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Park Jimin is sixteen years, three hundred and thirty-nine days, eleven hours, twenty-eight minutes, and five seconds old when his counter stops.

He’s sixteen years, two hundred and seventy-four days, three hours, fifty-four minutes, and thirty-one seconds old when he’s in the bathroom. The first set of black zeros are set into his skin when he’s washing his hands in the sink, eyes looking anywhere but the mirror in front of him. Jimin rolls up his sleeves and two very still numbers catch his eye. The water is still running as he runs his index finger over the zeros. He frowns as his fingers move past them to the last two digits, where he can feel the numbers changing every second. He’s never paid too much attention to his counter, unlike the his overenthusiastic classmates who could keep track of their counter daily, but last time he checked he was sure he had more time. He thinks back to all the pamphlets his parents have given him, their long lectures and talks, the discussions in school. Jimin’s heart begins to quicken and he can feel his blood pounding.

He makes it out of the bathroom in record time.





Back in class Jimin slips into his chair quietly as the teacher writes something on the board. He stares straight ahead at the scrawl of words and grips his pencil tightly. The blood is pounding even harder and his head is throbbing in rhythm to the numbers slowly ticking down on his wrist.

“Jimin,” a faint noise registers in one ear. “Jiminie, Park Jimin!” He finally turns when his hair is yanked to see Taehyung peering curiously at him. “You okay?”

Jimin thinks about the black numbers on his wrists and swallows, “Yeah.”

Taehyung peers at him curiously for a moment before shrugging his shoulders. “Well since you were spacing out do you want my notes then?”

“I’ll fail if I look at your notes,” he snorts.

His best friend only pouts at him, “Hey! My notes aren’t that bad. Besides, my doodles beat your drool-stained papers any day.”

Jimin only hits him in retaliation.





He goes back home that afternoon with Taehyung, his feet scraping against the sidewalk as he kicks the loose gravel and his eyes trained on the bland cement. Taehyung hangs off his shoulder, his mouth is spitting out words even faster than the seconds ticking away on his wrist and Jimin can’t bring himself to listen to Taehyung, not today.

“Jimin,” Taehyung cups his hands and shouts into his ear.

He pauses mid step and turns to his side. “What?” he asks, dumbly.

Taehyung crosses his arms and huffs, “Are you even paying attention to me, Park Jimin?” Taehyung narrows his eyes and bends forward, his face nearly touching Jimin’s.

Jimin instinctively leans backwards and shoves his best friend. “Why are you so weird?”

“Hey, don’t be like that I was just making sure aliens didn’t abduct you or something.” Taehyung puts an arm over Jimin’s shoulder again and Jimin can only hope that Taehyung doesn’t hear his blood pounding as he rests his head against his.

“I think the aliens gave you some weird injection when you were a kid,” he miffs.

Taehyung tilts his head to the side and looks at him for a minute. “I think you’re the weird one, Jimin-ah. You always were a snapback because you’re too lazy to brush your hair.”

He frowns as he takes off his hat and runs a hand over his hair, “Says you when you dyed your hair pink. Pink, Tae, neon pink. You dyed your hair pink.”

“The pink hair dye was really speaking to me,” Taehyung looks at Jimin like it was the most obvious reason in the world. He’s pushed forward and nearly lands into his mother’s new planted flowers. “Go get some rest okay?” Taehyung waves at him.

Jimin swallows, “Yeah.” The black numbers on his wrist have never burned so hotly before.





Nearly over a month has passed when the second set of numbers stop. Jimin is over at Taehyung’s house (he’s sixteen years, three hundred and thirty-eight days, three minutes, and fifty-eight seconds old and his counter isn’t slowing down one bit). The two of them are playing video games together instead of studying for upcoming exam. Jimin leans closer into the flashing screen and hoots when the text flashes across the screen.

“You’re so bad at this Taehyung-ah,” Jimin coos as he pats Taehyung’s face. He receives a kick to the stomach and Taehyung smiles at him cheekily. “You wound me, is this how you treat all your friends?”

Taehyung walks over and sits down on Jimin’s stomach and he lets out a gasp. “No, it’s just you. You’re special.”

Jimin snorts and prepares a retaliation but the other boy has picked up one of the fallen controllers. Jimin groans as he prepares himself to be Taehyung’s yoga mat for the next hour. He closes his eyes and lies there before something catches the corner of his eye.

His eyes are slowly drawn over and it would be comical, except for the steady uneasiness that’s been lying in his stomach for forty-one days. His eyes lock with the four motionless digits. The dread comes in and it’s building up. Jimin feels queasy and the world is spinning around him. The television screen is too bright and the speakers are too loud, he thinks as he turns his head over. He can feel his wrist beating steadily, with each beat another second is gone. His heart is pounding, his wrist is on fire, the blood is leaving his head, he can’t swallow and he wants to throw up, and the seconds are still counting down. His mind is racing and running and the counter it’s still-

“Ow,” Taehyung shrieks as he rubs the back of his head.

Jimin snaps his head up and he’s trying to catch his breath and calm down except the seconds keep on ticking by. “Sorry,” his voice comes out hoarse. He looks around and when was he standing? His head hurts and he rubs his temples for a minute before walking to the front door.

“Why are you leaving already?” Taehyung calls out petulantly as he walks over.

“I uh,” Jimin’s hand is on the doorknob and it feels slippery in his grip, “my stomach doesn’t feel well.”

Taehyung leans forward and grasps Jimin’s head in his hands. He puts his forehead against his for a good full minute and Jimin’s can feel his heartbeat speeding up. “Your forehead is hot,” Taehyung leans back for a minute and frowns. He bends down to grip Jimin’s waist and rests his head against his stomach.

“Uh,” Jimin flinches and tries to move backwards.

“I was listening to the fluids in your stomach,” Taehyung makes a shushing motion with his hand. Jimin just hopes he doesn’t hear the erratic beating of his heart which dropped into his stomach roughly five minutes ago. He stands up after another minute and pats Jimin’s cheek. “Feel better Jiminie.”

Jimin only nods because something is still firmly lodged in his throat. When he’s at the end of the street he takes a left instead of a right and runs.





“Where were you?” Taehyung asks the next day, while chewing on a pencil thoughtfully. The two of them are in the library and Jimin has a book open in front of him and a notebook on the side. He freezes and something, luckily not his heart this time, drops in his stomach again. “Well where were you?”

Taehyung is looking at him expectantly and Jimin squirms in his seat. “What do you mean?” he goes for instead.

“I went to your house and brought some rice cakes my mom made for you and you weren’t there,” Taehyung whines as he reaches into his backpack to throw a container of rice cakes at him.

“Ow,” Jimin rubs at his head and that ever-present sinking feeling in his stomach comes back again. “Sorry,” he says, eyes looking down. Last night he spent the entire time dancing until his blood was roaring in his ears and he couldn’t move anymore, just to get that feeling away.

“Don’t be sorry,” Taehyung scoffs as he takes the container and opens it, “just eat my mom’s rice cakes otherwise she’ll be upset.” Jimin nearly chokes as his mouth finds itself with four new acquaintances.
When he finally manages to swallow it all down he sends Taehyung the dirtiest possible glare in the world. Taehyung, of course, only kicks him under the table and force feeds him more rice cakes. The two of them continue on, oblivious to the judgemental looks of their classmates. He smiles for the first time since yesterday.

An hour later and the two of them are still confined to the library. Jimin taps his pencil against his notebook restlessly while Taehyung sticks out his tongue as he carefully outlines his doodles in sharpies. Jimin groans as he puts his head down to rest against the table.

His eyes snap open and he bolts up when he can feel part of him ablaze. His gaze is automatically attracted to his wrist, and when he puts his other hand against it he hisses because it stings. Taehyung’s eyes flit over to him momentarily and Jimin smiles painfully at his friend. His wrist is on fire and the fire is spreading, coursing through his veins. He can feel the fire traveling to his heart, which is thumping painfully and threatening to jump out of his chest at any moment and for all the wrong reasons. The fire is spreading quickly and the black numbers are turning white. Jimin clutches his wrist and grits his teeth as it shakes. He can’t do this he can’t and not now, not when he’s surrounded by all his classmates.

Jimin stands up, nearly knocking his chair over. “I need to go,” he barely manages to choke out before he’s up and out. His legs feel wobbly but he runs out of the library anyway before he can hear Taehyung yelling for him.

He’s outside now, at least a couple of blocks away from the high school. Jimin clutches his head and slumps down against the wall. He gasps for breath, needing the oxygen to fill his lungs. His chest is on fire and he can’t breathe (he’s sixteen years, three hundred and thirty-nine days, nine hours, twenty-eight minutes, and five seconds old and his counter has stopped).

Jimin pounds his fists against the gravel as he leans back, still panting for breath. The pain in his chest still hasn’t subsided and the fire is still travelling throughout his body. He glances at his wrist, the zeros glowing a painful bright white. He’s sixteen years, three hundred and thirty-nine days, nine hours, twenty-eight minutes, and twenty seconds old and his counter has stopped.

The pain is still there and his entire body is on fire. Sweat is pouring dripping down his face and he looks up at the sky, a pretty sort of blue that everyone can’t help but marvel at. He lets out a scream. He’s sixteen years old, three hundred and thirty-nine days, nine hours, thirty-one minutes, seventeen-

“Park Jimin what the hell?” Taehyung barely manages to pant out before he collapses next to him. “I looked all over for you.” He grabs his shoulders and shakes him.

Jimin lets out a small hiccup. “Tae, I,” his voice is strangely shaky and his lip is quivering and for some reason his eyes are prickling. He takes another deep breath, “My counter it,” his body is no longer on fire but he can’t manage to take a proper breath. He closes his eyes and blinks away the tears. He opens his mouth and tries to continue but all the oxygen is gone.

Taehyung lets out a hollow laugh. “You’re an idiot, you know that.” his hand brushes his cheek and he holds Jimin’s face in his own. Taehyung yanks him closer to put their foreheads against one another. Jimin can feel his breath against his own and the striking contrast in temperature helps him breathe a little.

He hiccups, “My parents, they’re-” The words seize up in his chest again. “What are people going to think?” Jimin eyes look anywhere but at Taehyung’s. They’re too intense, too dark, too focused. He hasn’t ever seen him with a gaze like that. He’s sixteen years old, three hundred and thirty-nine days, nine hours forty-three minutes, fifty-

“Shut the fuck up,” Taehyung says and his lip quivers too. Jimin finds himself embraced into a hug and tears are coming now his face. He can’t stop crying and he can’t stop shaking and the panic bubbles up from his stomach into a hiccup. “You’re an idiot.”

“You already said that,” Jimin laughs and more tears are coming down. He buries his face into Taehyung’s shoulder and clutches onto him.

Park Jimin is sixteen years old, three hundred and thirty-nine days, ten hours, two minutes, and twenty-one seconds old and his heart is racing for different two reasons.





It’s less than a month later (twenty-five days, six hours, nineteen minutes, and ten seconds) and Jimin has carefully stored away what he likes to call The Incident into a small dusty corner into his mind with plenty of bubble wrap and red stamp labelled: DON’T OPEN. This time he’s sitting in the park, an old thing that no one ever comes to anymore, with Taehyung and the two of them are swinging back and forth on the faded yellow seats.

Taehyung is staring into the depths of his soda as if it holds another universe before asking, “What do you want for your birthday?”

“What,” Jimin states as he continues to draw a picture in the dirt with his foot.

“Your. Birthday.” Taehyung is no longer looking at the soda can and why hasn’t Jimin ever noticed how nice his eyes were.

“I got that the first time,” He mumbles and ducks down. “Besides isn’t that ruining the whole point?”

Taehyung just rolls his eyes as he leans over to punch Jimin. “I’m being serious here.” He begins to pout and Jimin wants to know when his best friend got so cute.

“I don’t know,” Jimin says and he starts swinging back and forth again because he thinks if he looks at Taehyung for a second longer his face might turn red.

“You’re supposed to be helping me,” Taehyung grumbles and he reaches over to punch Jimin again. Except, this time his arms end up flailing wildly, the soda can smacking Jimin in the face. Jimin briefly wonders when he got so enraptured by chicken-like movements. “Sorry,” Taehyung offers with a cheeky smile.

Jimin shakes his head as he leaps off his swing to run over and tackle Taehyung to the ground. Taehyung shrieks as he falls backwards with Jimin landing on top of him. The two of them are involved in a full-out scuffle and his parents are going to yell at him for the mud stains but Jimin doesn’t care. Taehyung’s laughter fills his ears and Jimin’s heart feels lighter than it has in days.

He comes into class the next day and it’s not even five minutes later when he’s tackled from behind. “Hey,” Taehyung whispers as his arms snake up to circle Jimin, “happy birthday.”

Jimin is sixteen years, three hundred and sixty-four days, sixteen hours, twenty-one minutes, and thirty-one seconds and he can feel a blush slowly creeping up the back of his face and he’s glad that Taehyung is too busy burying his nose into his neck. “Where’s my birthday present?” He asks as he takes puts his hands over Taehyung’s.

“You’ll get it later,” Taehyung miffs and Jimin can hear the pout in his voice. The two of them stand like that for a minute, Jimin leaning back into Taehyung’s hold. He breathes in and he doesn’t understand why his heart is dancing wildly in his chest, not when his countdown has ended, not when he hasn’t met his soulmate yet. Taehyung is still burying his face into Jimin’s neck when he bites down.

“What the hell?” Jimin jumps up and out of Taehyung’s grasp a beat later. He spins around to see Taehyung laughing and rubs his neck.

“You taste weird.” Taehyung deadpans. Jimin is using all his willpower to not break out in scarlet and his heart is doing that strange thing where it skips a few beats, or maybe ten. “Besides it’s for good luck. Don’t you know?”

“Good luck,” Jimin repeats after him. And before he can think of something else to say, because his mind stops whenever Kim Taehyung is anywhere within five feet of him, class starts.

They’re walking back home and Jimin’s arm is draped around Taehyung’s (“because it’s cold”) and he’s listening to the new Big Bang song. Taehyung is singing along loudly, and Jimin can’t help the grin that’s slowly spreading along his face as he joins. They’re belting out lyrics, running down the street with arms thrown out. By the time they reach Jimin’s house he’s breathless and his forehead is damp with sweat and he can’t stop smiling.

“Open it,” Taehyung shoves a pink box too neatly wrapped at him.

“Did your mom wrap it for you?” Jimin asks as he takes the box in his arms. He’s sitting down on the carpet (seventeen years, five minutes, and eighteen seconds old) and he snorts as he sees the ballerinas on the package.

Taehyung gives him a kick and rolls over, resting his face on his hands. “Don’t be a hater.” Jimin tickles his chin and soon Taehyung is a complete mess on the floor. He’s shaking and rolling around, feet slamming against the carpet and his voice is loud. “Stop it,” Taehyung whines a second later when he’s out of breath. He sits up and shoves the box at Jimin. “You have to open it,” he whines.

“Fine,” he replies and begins to scratch at the tape with his nail. He struggles for a minute before finally peeling the piece of tape off.

“Urgh, you’re too slow Jiminie.” Taehyung snatches the box away from him and begins ripping at the pink paper. Jimin leans back against the couch as he watches Taehyung furrow his eyebrows and continues to tear at the paper. “There,” he says a beat later and the two of them are surrounded by the remnants of the wrapping paper.

Jimin takes the box and peers inside. “You didn’t,” he gives Taehyung a look as his breath catches in his throat. Taehyung grins cheekily and his cheeks match his outrageously pink hair. He takes out the snapback and reaches into the box again. There’s a Taeyang album lying in there as well.

“So you like it right?” Jimin looks over at Taehyung and he’s biting his nail.

“Yeah,” he replies breathless.

“Good, that means we can get cake.” Taehyung stuffs the new snapback on Jimin’s head before leaping up into the kitchen, hooting loudly.

He opens the refrigerator door to pull out the cake. When Taehyung begins opening drawers to find plates and forks and Jimin decides that he should probably get the knife. The two of them sit down at the table, with Taehyung insisting that he needs to put the candles in (“you can’t do it right,” he explains while concentrating on setting the candle into the cake).

“I’m done,” Taehyung beams at Jimin as he looks up from the cake. There’s a bit blue frosting smeared on his nose and in the ends of his hair but Jimin doesn’t tell him that.

Jimin begins to light the candles and he’s nearly finished when Taehyung sprints out of the room. “Taehyung the wax is going to drip onto the cake,” he calls.

“You can’t forget these,” Taehyung comes in with an orange birthday hat complete with glitter and lions. He walks over to Jimin and begins snapping the strap.

“Where those left over from your sister’s birthday?” He asks when he actually meant to say why do you look so cute this isn’t fair.

His friend rolls his eyes as he walks over to fit the cap on Jimin’s head. “Shut up,” Taehyung replies easily and snaps the strap for extra measure. “You can’t not have a birthday without the hats.”

“Did you really have to do that?” Jimin retorts as he rubs at his chin, “It hurts.”

“Don’t be a baby,” Taehyung replies and sticks out his tongue. He runs to close the blinds, even though isn’t anywhere near dark enough, before sitting directly across from Jimin.

Taehyung is belting happy birthday loud enough to that the entire street can hear. He’s grinning and it’s infectious and Jimin finds himself smiling so hard that it hurts (even though his counter has stopped, even though he hasn’t found his soulmate yet). The song ends and Jimin leans across the table. From here he can stare into Taehyung’s eyes, illuminated by the candlelight and the sunlight streaming in from the cracks of the blinds. Something clicks in his head. He takes a deep breath and blows and wishes (harder than he ever has before).

“What did you wish for?” Taehyung asks after they’ve finished half the cake, even with Jimin’s complaints.

“If I tell you it won’t come true,” Jimin responds easily before letting out a loud burp. Taehyung frowns as he punches him.

Park Jimin is seventeen years, two hours, forty-three minutes, and twelve seconds old and he’s falling hopelessly.





Winter has come and the first snow has already fallen. Break has already come so Jimin and Taehyung are sitting outside on the curb. Taehyung watches the snow drift and swirl while Jimin rests his head against Taehyung’s shoulder. His cheeks are pink from the cold and most definitely not because his heart is racing. There’s an awful sort of pitter patter when Jimin looks up to see snowflakes resting on Taehyung’s nose. He gets so lost that he doesn’t notice when Taehyung stands up abruptly, carefully brushing the snow off his pants.

He spits out a mouthful of snow, “A little warning next time.” Jimin gathers a bit of snow in his hands, it’s soft and not too wet so he makes a snowball.

“Don’t be such a baby,” Taehyung shakes his head as he walks ahead, carefully stepping in the snow. He turns around to see Jimin carefully packing the snow. “Oh no you don’t,” Taehyung says as he slows down, mid-step.

Jimin only grins as he throws the snowball, “Who’s the baby now?” Taehyung shrieks as he begins to run. Jimin chases him, scooping up snow in his hand as he laughs. He’s throws another snowball and this one hits Taehyung in the face.

“It’s a war,” Taehyung says a moment later after he’s wiped the snow off. He’s grinning wickedly and Jimin starts grinning as well.

The two of them are chasing each other down the street and Jimin’s heart feels like it’s flying. Taehyung is ruthlessly pelting snowballs, almost all of them missing. Jimin’s hands are nearly numb from the cold and he can’t feel his toes but he still runs anyway. His coat is soaking wet when Taehyung tackles him to the ground and stuffs a fistful of snow down the back of his shirt. Jimin screams out loudly with Taehyung smiling above him.

“My coat is all wet,” Jimin says when they’ve arrived back at Taehyung’s house. He frowns when he notices all the water dripping down his jacket before hanging it up. “My shirt is wet too,” Jimin lifts his shirt up uncomfortably, the thick cotton sticking to his skin. “Look,” he thrusts the bottom of his shirt into Taehyung’s face.

“Well, what do you want me to do about it?” Taehyung rolls his eyes as he hangs up his jacket as well. He flings his boots off, water splashing everywhere.

“My socks are wet too,” Jimin pouts as he holds up his socks as evidence.

“Are you like five?” Taehyung deadpans as he fixes Jimin with a look. “And you’re too old for that,” he pats Jimin’s cheeks with cold hands and Jimin scrunches up his nose.

“But it’s so uncomfortable,” Jimin follows Taehyung up the steps to his room. “They’re all sticking to me and I’m wet and if I get sick during break it’s all your fault, Kim Taehyung.”

Taehyung shoves Jimin to the floor, “Stop being such a kid, Park Jimin,” he imitates. Taehyung sits down on Jimin’s stomach and Jimin is being pressed into the floor. He makes a sort of choking noise.

“How much have you been eating?” He asks while panting. The blood circulation to his head is slowly being cut off and Jimin this is most definitely from his wet shirt, not because he can see Taehyung smiling at him.

“I was going to lend you clothes,” Taehyung pouts at him and Jimin blames the fact that Taehyung is sitting on him for the lack of breath, “but then you were mean to me. Say you’re sorry.”

“Are you kidding me?” Jimin raises and eyebrow while wondering if he can push Taehyung off him or not.

“Please?” Taehyung asks as he begins to poke at Jimin’s cheek. “You can do it, for me?” He begins to pat his eyelashes and Jimin thinks that Taehyung looks ridiculous.

“You look ridiculous,” He scowls and tries to avoid Taehyung’s index finger. Taehyung is still batting his eyelashes and smiling and Jimin thinks it’s the lack of better judgement that has him mumbling out a “sorry.”

“What was that?” Taehyung cups his ears as he giggles loudly.

“You’re annoying as hell,” Jimin says without hesitation and if he was cold a minute ago now he’s not because heat is rushing up and he hopes he isn’t turning red. Taehyung gets up and Jimin breathes, hoping the oxygen will help his heart rate come back down. Taehyung chucks a sweater and pair of jeans at him. “Hey,” Jimin frowns.

“Go change in the bathroom and come down later,” the other boy shoves him out of his room.

The two of them are both changed into a fresh pair of clothes (“you’re not wet now, so stop being a baby”) and Jimin’s heart has somehow learned how to do acrobatics. He’s tapping against the table absently and Taehyung is currently involved in tearing off the wrapping paper, not pink because Jimin isn’t weird. Jimin can feel his palms turning clammy and he subtly wipes his hands on Taehyung’s jeans.

“Did you actually get me all of this?” Taehyung turns back around after carefully inspecting his presents for a good solid ten minutes. His smile is bright but his eyes are brighter and Jimin thinks that maybe he should start looking for insurance companies.

He barely manages out a “Yes,” before his heart jumps in his throat and his voice cracks.

“Okay, it’s cake time,” Taehyung hoots excitedly and claps as he puts on his hat and holds his new, oversized plush lion underneath his arms. He comes over, precariously balancing utensils and candles on top of the cake. Taehyung lets them all drop with a loud thud. He places the lion to the side and begins putting the candles in.

Jimin takes the lion and begins playing with its mane. “Look it’s you, Tae,” He says several minutes later. Taehyung looks up briefly from his cake, there are eleven candles so far only eight more left, and raises an eyebrow. “You should take a picture with it.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung replies distractedly while placing another candle and Jimin frowns.

When he’s finally done Taehyung screams happy birthday, bouncing up and down so quickly Jimin is actually worried he’ll fall out of his seat. This time the glow of the candles do illuminate his face and Jimin hates the way his heart sort of flops around like a fish. Taehyung is smiling and Jimin’s heart does more flopping. He takes and exaggerated breath to blow out the candles and when the smoke has cleared Taehyung smiling and it’s so bright it hurts. Jimin is (seventeen years, seventy-eight days, four hours, thirty-five minutes, and eight seconds old), grinning and heart clenching.

Later Jimin smears frosting all over Taehyung’s face and the two of them are running around, tripping over their own feet and bumping into the doors, and Jimin is laughing just as hard as Taehyung.




One hundred and seventy-six days, twenty-one hours, ten minutes, and fifty-eight seconds later Jimin’s parents confront him. It’s at dinner and Jimin pauses in mid-bite, his blood freezing over and looking into his parents’ black eyes. Jimin glances down to his wrist and slowly realizes with horror that he’s no longer wearing the constricting wristband on his left hand. He swallows and puts down his chopsticks and he’s no longer hungry.

“Jimin,” his mom begins unsurely, she smiles as she begins, her eyes strangely cold, “when did your counter stop, dear?” Hearing the word dear Jimin shivers and he’s never felt so cold before.

He choses not to answer, and instead looks down towards his lap. Jimin fiddles with his fingers, and the black numbers catch his eye and it all comes crashing back.

His dad isn’t nearly so kind. “Where’s your soulmate?” he snaps, metal chopsticks clicking harshly against the silence. Jimin slinks down into his chair. “Don’t make me repeat myself,” he hisses.

“I,” Jimin begins and his blood circulation is being cut off again. It’s not pleasant in the slightest and so completely different from when he’s within ten feet of Kim Taehyung. His mom smiles encouragingly, and all he can see are the points of her teeth. “I don’t have one,” he finishes lamely.

“How do you not have a soulmate?” His father slams his chopsticks down onto the table. Jimin flinches.

“Are you sure?” his mother asks and her smile flickers for a minute. She regains her composure and sits up straighter. “I’m sure it’s some nice, pretty girl in your class.” There’s a hint of desperation to her voice as she leans forward. And Jimin remembers when she last used that smile.

“No,” he says firmly. “I didn’t find my soulmate.” Blood is roaring in his ears and Jimin sits up ramrod straight in his seat. “I don’t have a soulmate.”

“You do,” his father insists. “You do.”

Jimin looks at his younger brother who’s sunken into his seat, looking everywhere but him. His mom is no longer using her smile and strength surges through Jimin. “I don’t have a soulmate.”

His mother begins to laugh and it’s nervous, titterring and border-line hysterical. “Jimin don’t be ridiculous. You have a soulmate. Even if you haven’t found yours, we’ll get you one.”

“Mom,” Jimin breathes in for a moment, unclenching his fists, “I don’t have a soulmate.”

“There are agencies you know,” his mother drops her voice into a whisper. “They can help you. They can get you a soulmate. They know how to forge the papers, you don’t have to go on like this.”

“Go on like what?” Jimin snaps.

“You don’t have to go on the path you’re continuing on,” his father cuts in. “You don’t have to be unhappy. Jimin, we want to help you.”

Jimin stands up. “No,” he says and looks his father straight in the eye. His mother isn’t looking at him and staring at the wall. “No,” he repeats. Jimin’s entire body is shaking and he’s never felt rage so deeply before. He walks out of the kitchen, each step resounding in the house, and slams the door behind him.

Outside, Jimin can’t breathe. There’s a monsoon due next week yet the atmosphere is suffocating. He’s taking deep breaths as he’s running. His feet pound of the pavement and he glances down to see he’s still wearing slippers and socks. Jimin feels the tears prickling in the back of his eyes and he wipes them. The rage which was filling him up back in the kitchen is no longer there and the despair and disgust in coming back in huge waves.

He stops running and he surveys the houses around him. Jimin gasps for breath as his heart rate skyrockets. There are cars all around him, people talking, and dogs jumping. He sees a couple holding hands, with matching gazes and nearly trips as he tries to make it to the nearest garbage can. Jimin stands up, supporting himself with one hand. His stomach is gurgling uncomfortably and his legs turn into jelly.

Kneeling down, Jimin begins to rock back and forth on his feet while shutting his eyes. He can feel hysterical laughter bubbling from his chest and the tears building up. His heart pounds wildly against his chest like a madman and is threatening to escape. In front of him there’s a couple holding hands, the two of them kissing. Jimin’s heart thumps pitifully at the sight of that. He leans back against the trash can, bringing his knees into his chest.

Still in his slippers Jimin feels ridiculous as he looks up at the sky. It’s blue, the nice kind that everyone can’t help but spend five minutes getting lost in. His heart is slowing down, yet it still hurts. He buries his face and hugs his knees even more tightly. Jimin can’t breathe, his heart is whimpering painfully. His lungs sting when he draws in a breath, but they hurt even more when he exhales. His chest feels empty and Jimin closes his eyes as he begins to rest against the trashcan.

(He doesn’t come home until the sun has nearly risen and the moon is still up in the sky. He’s seventeen years, two hundred fifty-four days, forty-one minutes, and thirteen seconds old and exhausted).





“Why are you all sunburnt?” Taehyung asks when Jimin comes over to his house four days later. Jimin opens his eyes hazily. He hasn’t gotten much sleep since when his parents confronted him, and even less so when his parents left on an impromptu vacation (“How fast can you book a flight out of the country?” his mother asks his dad the very next day).

“Hm?” Jimin asks as he rubs at his eyes. He lets out a long yawn as he stretches his back.

“Your face,” Taehyung repeats as he flops down next to him. “It’s all sunburnt.” He starts poking Jimin’s cheek, right where it’s all red and sore.

Jimin rolls over onto his stomach, “Stop it,” he moans as he digs his face into the carpet. “That hurts.”

“How’d you get sunburnt?” Taehyung asks again, rolling Jimin back onto his back. Jimin can’t find the strength to roll back onto his stomach so he covers his eyes with his arm instead. “Your face is all red,” and Jimin can feel Taehyung breathing on his arm.

“Uh-huh,” he replies. His eyelids are already extremely heavy and Jimin takes deep breaths as his body begins to relax.

Five minutes later a blanket is thrown on top of him and a pillow is placed underneath his head. “Fine,” Taehyung says fondly as he settles next to Jimin with a blanket and pillow as well. “I guess it’s nap time.”

Jimin wakes up later to find his best friend’s face attached to his stomach and his arms locked against his chest (he’s seventeen years, two hundred fifty-eight days, three hours, twenty-one minutes, and thirteen seconds old). He finds himself breathless as he strokes the ends of Taehyung’s obnoxiously bright hair.





His parents arrive the day right before school starts. They come in unannounced and Jimin nearly falls off the chair in the kitchen when they come back. His younger brother has a huge grin on salmon face and his skin is ten shades darker. His mom comes back with three new suitcases that Jimin doesn’t ever remember seeing. He can no longer find the deep wrinkles that previously creased her forehead, the ones that would always come whenever she smiled after a hard day of work.

When his father comes in he barges through the door, jaw square and his gaze set forth. His eyes are near a sheen of black ice that covers all the roads during the wintertime. Jimin notices that his forearms are tanner and he’s wearing a new shirt, as well as sunglasses that are hanging from his pocket. What stands out even more than all his family’s new appearances is the chill he gets when his father walks right past him. He walks straight past Jimin into the living room to set down two suitcases.

Jimin’s eyes follow his father’s movements. His mother goes to sit down on the couch, fanning herself. His brother drags in another suitcase, chattering loudly with his parents. The wheels of the suitcase grates on Jimin’s ears, he’s spent the past two months with only Taehyung’s company every other day. There’s a cold chill crawling into the house and the ice begins to spread to Jimin’s heart.

The entire afternoon Jimin sits motionless on his seat, except to move his eyes and turn his head to follow the movements of his family. Watching them walk in and out of the kitchen the ice begins to burn his heart. They start cooking dinner, and Jimin is still sitting there, watching them. He finally leaves for his room when they’ve only made food for three.

It’s fitting that Jimin’s family has come back on the day of the last monsoon.





Jimin’s sitting in the hard wooden chair, looking at his open textbook but not bothering to actually read it. He rolls up his sleeve to look at his wrist, something he hasn’t bothered to do in quite awhile. The black zeros stare mockingly at him before they blur together like the words on his textbook. He groans as he rests his head on the book, frustration welling up inside.

“Are you okay?” Taehyung asks five minutes later, when Jimin still hasn’t lifted his head back up. Jimin makes a sort of non-committal noise in the back of his throat. “Hey, Jimin-ah,” Taehyung says softly. The way his voice catches and the breath he exhales afterwards makes him look up.

“Yeah?” He asks and just when did those bags get under Taehyung’s eyes? There’s a prep book for the CSAT right underneath his forearm and a lump forms in Jimin’s throat.

He reaches out with his hand to put it on top of Jimin’s. Taehyung’s hands dry and cold over his, fingers knobby but not crooked and fat like his. “You alright?” He thinks there’s a nice sort of way Taehyung’s hands don’t fit perfectly over his, but they fit and it feels nice.

There’s a bitter laugh rising out of Jimin’s throat and the familiar feeling of inadequacy boiling in the pit of his stomach again. “At this point does it really matter?”

“Yes, yes it does.” Taehyung’s grips tighten and his knuckles are turning a sickly white. “Jimin, you can’t be like this.”

“Be like what?” Jimin retorts as he ducks away. The words come out sharper than he meant them too and regret is piling up as well. “I’m sorry it’s just that my counter,” and he’s choked back by a sudden sob. The tears are forming at the corners of his eyes and Jimin hastily his hand away from Taehyung’s so he can dab them. “Sorry,” his voice cracks.

Taehyung gets up and sits down in the seat right next to Jimin’s. He grabs his shoulders to turn him so the two of them are face to face. There’s a scary intensity to his eyes and Jimin just wants to go back to his room, where no one bothers him and no one acknowledges him. “Don’t be sorry Jimin.” Jimin’s heart shatters into a million pieces when he hears Taehyung say his name, and he’s never heard anyone say it that way.

Shaking, Jimin asks, “What am I going to do, Tae?” His hands won’t stop moving and his entire body is quivering as well. “I can’t take the CSAT, I can’t go to college, I can’t find a good job like my parents wanted me too.” He remembers the cold looks of his parents that summer night, and Jimin’s heart begins to stutter all over the place. “I can’t do anything. You need to register your counter when you apply for college, for work, for an apartment. You need it for almost everything. What am I supposed to do?”

“College is stupid,” Taehyung retorts and his grip is tightening on Jimin’s shoulders. “Do something that you want to do. As long as you’re doing something that you love with who you love that’s all that should matter.”

“But Taehyung,” Jimin says and the panic is rising up as well. He can’t stand this, he can’t stand the fact that he doesn’t have a soulmate, that his counter has stopped, and that he just doesn’t know.

“Shut up, Park Jimin,” he cuts him off. “You’re good at dancing right?”

“I guess,” Jimin fidgets uncomfortably to wipe the tears that are still flowing down. He thinks this entire situation is ridiculous as he lets a hiccup.

“Do you love it?” One, two, his heart skips a beat.

“Yes. What does this have to do with anything?”

“You’re so stupid, Jimin,” Taehyung says his name in that way again and Jimin thinks back to last year. He lets go of one shoulder to wipe the tears off his face. “We’ll rent an apartment together okay, you and I. We’ll both find jobs together. You can be a dancer and I’ll go work find an animal shelter. You can do something that you love. You don’t have to please everyone, don’t do this to yourself Jimin. What matters is you, okay.” Taehyung’s eyes are glassy and he smiles as he pokes Jimin in the center of of his chest.

“My parents though,” he croaks and now he’s crying even harder. “My entire family pretends that I don’t even exist. I saw my mom throwing out all the old family photos with me in them.” Jimin can’t stop the tears flowing down his face and his eyes are all puffy, his bangs covered in sweat. “Sorry,” he whispers later when he manages when the crying has subsided a bit.

“I told you already, don’t apologize. Jimin, please stop doing this to yourself. Stop beating yourself up for something that you can’t control. Please, Jimin.” Taehyung moves his hands up to brush Jimin’s bangs out of his eyes and Jimin can’t stop his crying now. He hiccups as Taehyung gently, but firmly holds his face and leans in so there’s only a good few inches between them. “Don’t burden yourself. I’m always here for you whether or not you want to talk or not. That’s what best friends are for, remember?”

He chokes back a sob as he manages to let out a laugh and a small smile, “Yeah.”

“You’re an idiot you know?” Taehyung says as he smiles at him. His eyes are glassy and Jimin can see the water at the edges of his eyes. His smile is so bright that Jimin forgets that he needs to breathe for a moment.

“You already told me,” he croaks as Taehyung envelopes him in a hug. Jimin buries his face into his shoulder and slowly moves his hands up to wrap around Taehyung’s back as well. He still can’t stop hiccuping and the tears are still streaming down.

He draws back (twenty-eight minutes and thirteen seconds) later and Taehyung’s arms slowly leave as well. “I think,” Jimin begins as he raises his head to look up directly into Taehyung’s eyes. His head is spinning and his heart is hammering loudly in his ears. “I think,” he takes a deep breath before continuing, “that I’m not okay.”

Taehyung pulls him back in for another hug. “You’re so stupid Park Jimin,” he laughs and Jimin’s shoulder is turning slightly damp. “It doesn’t have to be okay. Jimin-ah,” he continues a bit more softly this time, “you’re the biggest idiot I know.”

Jimin is seventeen years, three hundred and twenty-nine, fourteen hours, twenty-seven minutes, and forty-five seconds old and he wants to laugh because he’s in love and so utterly stupid.





The two of them are walking to school, and Jimin’s hands are clammy as he holds onto Taehyung. (He’s eighteen years, twenty-nine days, seven hours, forty-two minutes, and fifteen seconds years old). Taehyung’s hand is cold in his and Jimin’s hands are coated in a disgusting layer of cold sweat. His cheeks are flushed (from the cold and the wind) and he presses his body against his.

“Why are you so nervous?” Taehyung asks him as he lets go of Jimin’s hand to wrap an arm around his waist. “You aren’t even taking the test.” He smiles as he pokes at his cheeks.

“Kim Taehyung, you have to try hard on this test,” Jimin scoffs as he bumps against Taehyung lightly. “It’s important you know.”

“But I don’t want to take it,” Taehyung pouts as he nuzzles into Jimin’s shoulder. “If you aren’t going to college then why do I have to go.” His grips tightens on Jimin’s waist.

“It’s important,” Jimin wriggles free of Taehyung’s grasp and he looks into his eyes. “You have to take it for me, okay?”

“What are you,” Taehyung begins as he flicks Jimin’s forehead, “my parents?” He drags Jimin forward by his hand. “Don’t be so worried Jimin, it’s just a silly test.” Jimin plants his feet on the ground and Taehyung stops when he can no longer move. “Fine, I’ll take it seriously,” he mumbles under his breath after Jimin gives him a pointed look. “But don’t get any wrong ideas, I’m not going to college without you.”

“Yeah,” Jimin’s breath hitches a little bit. “Okay, I can do that.”





Jimin paces nervously outside the entrance of the school. He goes up on his tiptoes yet he still can’t see that familiar outlandish pink hair standing out from the crowd. The first students have begun to filter out, their eyes drooping and foreheads damp with sweat. There’s loud hooting and some parents are crying as they run up to hug their children. Jimin gets a bitter feeling in his stomach because maybe in another universe, a kinder one, that could have been him.

He pushes through several hysterical parents and kids in his class (kids who will go to college and find their soulmate and settle down and get their happily ever after) to the school gate and there’s a splash of faded pink against the bland grey of the school uniforms. Taehyung makes his way to Jimin and jumps into his arms and Jimin is suffocating against Taehyung’s chest.

“The test was terrible,” Taehyung whines as he pulls Jimin in tighter. “It was so long and so boring and I nearly fell asleep. Please don’t ever make me go through that again.”

“I thought you said you’d try for me,” Jimin looks up at Taehyung and he squirms against the taller boy’s hold on him. “You did try didn’t you?” he panics because this test is important. He doesn’t want Taehyung to stay someplace where he’s held back just because Jimin can’t do anything.

“Don’t worry,” Taehyung sighs exasperatedly as he pats Jimin’s cheek with one of his hands. “I did try okay, for you.” He punctuates the you with a jab at his cheeks.

“Good,” Jimin lets out a breath he was holding since the morning. His heart is hammering loudly in his ears when Taehyung still hasn’t let him go. “Are you going to let me go?” he complains against Taehyung’s chest. “This is really uncomfortable.”

“This is your punishment,” Taehyung replies as he uses one of his hands to comb his fingers through Jimin’s hair. “You made me take the test so now you have to suffer.”

“Okay,” Jimin replies to one of the buttons on Taehyung’s blazer. He’s smiling like an idiot and his heart is doing stupid little flips inside his ribcage and dancing along to an imaginary song. (He’s eighteen years, twenty-nine days, eighteen-hours, five minutes, and fourteen seconds years old).





The two of them are sitting in the bibimbap restaurant two blocks away from Taehyung’s house after his CSAT scores came back. Taehyung is rocking back and forth on his chair with a pair of chopsticks in his hand. His eyes light up when the waiter sets the bibimbap right in front of them and almost knocks out his two front teeth as he scrambles to pull out the metal chopsticks. Jimin’s heart is racing quickly and he chooses to stuff the bibimbap into his mouth instead.

“I took the test,” Taehyung says around a mouthful of food with a huge grin on his face. “Now you have to promise me we’ll move into the same apartment together.”

“Only if you’re going to college,” Jimin argues as he thumps Taehyung’s forehead with the end of his chopsticks. “You didn’t take the test for nothing.”

“But Jiminie,” his best friend pouts as he puts on his best voice. Taehyung frames his cheeks with his hands as he tilts his head and widens his eyes. “I don’t want to go to college and leave you,” Taehyung looks at him and his face is ridiculous with those wide puppy eyes and dumb-looking pout. Jimin can feel his cheeks burning and he reaches for the glass of water.

“Um,” he says very articulately as his hand grasps at the empty air beside his left hand. He reaches again and ends up knocking the water all over the table. “Sorry,” he jumps up as he gets the napkins and quickly pats the spill dry.

Taehyung watches him with a smile on his lips and his smile only widens when Jimin’s knees begin to knock against his (it’s only by accident of course). “My Jimin is so cute,” Taehyung reaches out to tap his nose. Jimin’s heart is currently experiencing some sort of cardiac arrest at hearing the words “my” and “jimin” coming out of Taehyung’s mouth in the same sentence. He trips on the base of the table, not his own feet, and falls back against the chair.

“This doesn’t change anything,” Jimin huffs and crosses his arms. “You can at least take night classes right?”

“I don’t want to go,” Taehyung begins to pout again and looks at Jimin imploringly. “I’ll pay for the dinner today?” he offers cheekily.

“We both know that I’m still going to pay for tonight’s dinner either way,” Jimin is attempting to resist the urge in his heart that is currently shouting to give in to Kim Taehyung and his stupidly cute face.

Leaning back against the chair Taehyung crosses his arms. “But I need to help pay the rent too. Come on Jimin let me work full time too.”

“No,” Jimin says.

“No?” Taehyung asks as he looks at Jimin hopefully.

“You have to go take night classes if you aren’t going to college.”

“Urgh, fine.” Taehyung puts his head over the seat of his chair as he pinches the bridge of his nose very dramatically. “I was going to have such a fun time feeding the pigeons shrimp crackers all day too.” He jerks up in his seat to dig his heel into Jimin’s foot.

“Ow,” Jimin gives Taehyung a look but Taehyung only gives him a grin with his complete set of teeth. It’s been almost a year (and seventy-five days, nine hours, and fourteen seconds) and Jimin thinks his heart should have learned how to calm down by now.





“Hey, wake up Tae,” Jimin flicks Taehyung’s forehead. His head is resting against the window of the car and the disgusting saliva has made its way down the door and onto his shirt. “You’re spit is all over the window.” Taehyung jerks up and uses the end of his scarf to wipe the spit off of his mouth and the window. “That’s disgusting,” Jimin crinkles his nose at the mess that his best friend is.

“Not as disgusting as you are,” Taehyung shoots back. The car jerks to a halt at the side of the curb and Taehyung springs out of the door before Jimin can come up with a semi-witty reply.

Jimin shakes his head as he walks out to the trunk. The snow crunches beneath his boots as he rubs his hands together. Lifting the trunk of the car, Jimin begins to carry out the cardboard boxes one by one. He reaches for the one labeled KIM TAEHYUNG with lions leaping over the cracks in the box. “What did you put in this box?” Jimin asks when he’s out of breath (climbing the stairs, not because his very cute best friend) and the box is set down with a loud thud.

“Just a few things,” Taehyung dismisses with a wave of his hand as he shoves the box to an empty corner.

“A few?” Jimin asks incredulously as peers into the box. It’s stacked to the very brim with crumpled clothes and old photographs in their picture frames. Jimin lies down against the hardwood floor and his butt is so cold he swears it could be an icebox right now. “How many more boxes?” He whines as he spreads his hands and arms out.

“Well, we still got all the boxes in the car and the mattress and we need to wait until my mom comes with the other car,” Taehyung replies absently as he starts to set out some clothes on their floor. “Are these Winnie the Pooh?” He looks over at Jimin with a raised eyebrow as he waves his boxers. “They’re so cute, can I have them?” Jimin turns his head so his cheek is residing against the floor and kicks Taehyung.

Jimin is leaning against the wooden bed frame with hot chocolate in his hand, even though the ends of his hair are still damp and his sweater is sticking to his back. His wiggles his toes in the dumb socks that Taehyung once gave him in some mix-match set. He’s watching Music Core and Big Bang is on with their new comeback. Taeyang is hitting his high note when the mattress suddenly bounces up and Jimin very nearly spills hot chocolate all over himself.

“Hey watch it,” he miffs as he hugs his mug protectively. “That could have made a stain on the mattress.” Taehyung’s eyes are wide and open and peering at him curiously and Jimin is telling himself that the reason he warmth is flooding into his body is because of the hot chocolate.

“You could just use a bedsheet to cover it up,” Taehyung states as he bounces up again. This time Jimin chooses to lean over and set the mug onto the ground. “It’s not like anyone else is going to come over to our apartment.”

“Yeah,” Jimin turns around to look back at the small television and is interrupted when Taehyung decides to lay on top of his legs. Jimin glares at him and tries to move his legs to kick Taehyung off, but only succeeds in knocking over his cup of hot chocolate. “Are you for real?” he asks when Taehyung still doesn’t budge.

He turns over on his stomach so now his ribcage is digging into Jimin’s thighs. “It’s comfortable like this,” Taehyung remarks as he flips the page to his book. “You make an especially nice pillow.” Taehyung looks up at Jimin from the top of his book and Jimin finds the rising urge to either punch or cuddle him. “Besides you’re warm too.”

Jimin rolls his eyes in response as he tries once again to move. When he finally resigned to being Taehyung’s pillow rest Jimin reaches behind him for the laptop lying on top of the bed and puts it on Taehyung’s stomach. He opens the cover and begins to search for nearby dance studios.

An hour later (fifty-seven minutes and forty-four seconds) Jimin’s legs begin to go numb and he tries to shake Taehyung off again. He peers down to see that Taehyung is snoring lightly and his book is resting on top of his face. Putting the laptop on the floor, not anywhere remotely near the spill, Jimin gradually rolls Taehyung off his legs and removes the book from his face.

Making a face of disgust Jimin bookmarks the page filled with drool and chucks it to where he hopes is the drawer. He scoops Taehyung up in his arms and more of drops him onto the bed rather than putting him down gently. Covering Taehyung’s body with his old quilt that he stole from Jimin’s house at one point (“it has lions Jiminie, lions”) Jimin shuts down the laptop and cleans up the mess that luckily hasn’t seeped into his old mattress.

Turning off the lights Jimin flops into bed and pulls the blankets up to his chin. He finds himself staring at the darkness and he pulls the blankets around him a bit tighter. There’s something surreal about all of this, that he’s living in an apartment with his best friend. Jimin lets out a yawn and folds his legs up.

Later in the morning Jimin wakes up (when he’s eighteen years, ninety-seven days, fifteen hours, and six seconds old) with his back pressed into Taehyung’s stomach and Taehyung’s arms wrapped around his waist and he still wonders why exactly his heart is fluttering.





Jimin is sitting in the brightly lit dance studio in a small chair that’s actually a footstool and he’s currently watching his new boss frantically throwing the papers off his desk. (He’s eighteen years, one hundred and twelve days, four hours, and thirty-nine seconds old). “Sorry,” Hoseok yelps from somewhere behind a towering stack that looks strikingly similar to the recycle bin back in his shared apartment (whenever he thinks theirs his insides turn into mush).

“It’s okay,” Jimin replies, wiping his palms on his jeans. He can feel the perspiration forming underneath his armpits and the dance studio is freezing.

“Yoongi came over and decided it would be a good idea to mess up all my things,” Hoseok offers with a smile that’s still as wide as when Jimin walked in and tripped over his own feet. Hoseok is pulling the post-it notes off his monitor and Jimin turns his neck to watch the papers flutter to the ground. stop giggling in my ear at it’s a fucking disturbance to my music and you sound like a dying puppy.

“Yeah,” Jimin trails off as he angles his head to read another post-it. He jerks his head up when Hoseok walks right in front of him and bends down to pick up the post-it, cheeks flushed.

“Hoseok-hyung,” Hoseok hands him his work schedule. “I’ve never been called hyung before. I’m only older than Namjoon by half a year and he wouldn’t even do it when he was sick and I made him noodles.” Hoseok shakes his head but there’s something peculiar about the way his eyes light up and nearly glisten

“It’s ridiculous,” Jimin finds himself agreeing. “I’ve tried to get Taehyung to call me hyung since I was five. We got into a huge fight about it and ended up not talking for three weeks.”

Hoseok beams at Jimin as he sits down against his desk, facing him. He crosses his legs as he thumbs through the stack of post-it notes he’s collected, most of them green. “You should bring him over,” Hoseok laughs as he sets the stack of post-its onto his desk, “then I can finally prove to Yoongi I’m not the weirdest person he’s met.”

Jimin makes a garbled noise in his throat and chokes. “He’ll probably just invite himself over instead,” He replies, after coughing repeatedly. “Be careful of a pink-haired stranger that suddenly knocks on your door asking you to listen to his rap.” Jimin glances down to Hoseok’s wrists and he notices the two names scrawled onto Hoseok’s wrist (Namjoon and Yoongi) and his own wrist feels empty in comparison.

“Yeah I’ll definitely watch out for that,” Hoseok beams at him and his eyes crinkle up as well. He laughs loudly and moves to clap Jimin on the back. Jimin mumbles an agreement and stumbles on the way out of the office to his first class, Hoseok’s laughter still ringing in the air.





“How was your first day?” Taehyung asks as he flops down beside Jimin, neck craning up to look at him as he flutters his eyelashes and smiles at Jimin.

“It was nice,” He hums in response, trying to keep his eyes firmly glued to the screen instead of the curve of Taehyung’s cheeks and the sparkle in his eyes. “Apparently Hoseok-hyung used to be part of the underground scene.”

Taehyung stops playing with the hem of Jimin’s sweats and blinks, once. “Does he know any rappers, can he help me join?” He asks. Jimin rolls his eyes and leans over to hit Taehyung on the back of his head. “Okay, okay I’m sorry,” Taehyung huffs and offers his hands for surrender.

“You’re ridiculous,” Jimin shakes his head as he clicks on the youtube video Hoseok sent him. Taehyung makes a disagreeing noise, but Jimin ignores him as the bass comes on in the video. He leans Taehyung to grab his glasses off the nightstand and slips them on. Taehyung plops his head on Jimin’s thigh and Jimin can tell without looking at him that Taehyung is glaring.

Five minutes later (and forty-six seconds) Taehyung begins to hoot loudly. Jimin pulls out an earbud to give him a look. Taehyung averts his gaze to his phone but there’s a small smirk spreading across his face.

“Jiminie,” Taehyung whines not even a second later. He leans up to take off Jimin’s glasses, “Pay attention to me.” Jimin can hear the pout in his voice without looking at him. “Jiminie I’m bored,” Taehyung begins to claw at his chest and Jimin can’t help but roll his eyes.

“What do you want me to do about it?” He asks nonchalantly. “I’m busy.”

“Urgh,” Taehyung shifts around and his head is pressing uncomfortably into the Jimin’s stomach. “I thought I was number one in your heart, Park Jimin.” Jimin looks him down and raises an eyebrow, but his cheeks are flushed and his heart has decided to become an Olympic gymnast once again. Taehyung’s feet are pounding against the mattress and he reaches over with cold hands to yank out Jimin’s earbuds. “Pay. Attention. To. Me.” Taehyung kicks the blanket off the bed to sit up and grab Jimin’s face in his hands.

“Why?” Jimin asks he sticks out his tongue and blows, spit flying off onto Taehyung’s face.

Taehyung wipes his face off with one hand and stares at Jimin. There’s a wicked glint in his eye and before Jimin can do anything Taehyung lifts up his shirt to rest his hands against his stomach. Jimin giggles uncontrollably as Taehyung’s hands dance across his chest, hair rising on his arms. There’s a grin spreading on Taehyung’s face and Jimin snorts again and then the grin breaks out completely. “You see this is what happens when you don’t pay attention to me, Jiminie-ah.”

Jimin attempts to swat Taehyung’s hands out of the way, but his stomach is convulsing and he takes a deep breath. “Stop it,” he hisses as he kicks Taehyung in the stomach. Taehyung doubles back and Jimin takes that as an opportunity. He wrestles Taehyung off the bed and pushes him onto the mattress below. Jimin plops down on Taehyung’s stomach and begins to tickle him instead. “You see this is what happens when you distract me from work.”

“Work?” Taehyung wheezes in between breath as his face twitches. “You call watching youtube videos work?” Taehyung grabs one of Jimin’s wrists and tries to kick him off of his stomach.

“It’s research,” Jimin defends himself as he continues to tickle Taehyung with one hand. Taehyung opens his mouth for a reply but his words are lost by a choked laugh.

“Okay truce!” Taehyung shouts. He’s squirming underneath Jimin and the sides of his face keeps on twitching and his left eyebrow has decided to take a life of its own. It’s the most unattractive thing Jimin has ever seen but his heart decides to disagree nonetheless. “Please Jimin?” Taehyung wheezes.

“Fine,” Jimin rolls off of Taehyung and gathers the blankets around him. “I want to go to sleep anyway.”

“Can I go to the dance studio with you tomorrow?” Taehyung asks after he’s settled next to Jimin and stolen his blanket.

“It’s not bring your kid to work day,” Jimin snorts as he rolls his eyes, snuggling deeper into the mattress. Taehyung hasn’t bothered to sleep on the bed after the first week, since he fell off nearly every day.

“Why are you so mean Park Jimin?” Taehyung sighs dramatically as he spreads his arms out. Taehyung turns on his side, and props up an arm so they’re both face to face.

“Goodnight,” Jimin whispers but Taehyung is already snoring. Jimin brings the blankets up to his chin, but his body is warm and he can feel himself burning up and floating away.





It’s the awkward time of year when the weather is nearly spring, but still winter. The snow is a disgusting shade of brown and it slushes around their feet and splashes on the bottom of Jimin’s jeans. He’s walking hand in hand with Taehyung (his palm is just as clammy and disgusting as the air around them) and he’s eighteen years, one hundred and twenty-seven days, eighteen hours, and twenty-three seconds old.

High school students are running and giggling throughout and Jimin opens the door with his free hand, only for a tall boy to come barreling into Taehyung. Their hands are split apart and Taehyung looks down to see the boy’s hands wrapped around his waist.

“Sorry,” the boy ducks under Taehyung’s arms and waves at them, “I’m coming!” He shouts to his friends as there’s a grin that spreads across his face and he starts sprinting at full speed. “Sorry,” He apologizes once more once he’s out the door and Taehyung waves back to him.

“What?” He asks when Jimin gives him a look. Taehyung shrugs before he reaches for Jimin’s hand once more. “He’s a cute kid.” Taehyung offers as they walk up the stairs. Jimin snorts as he shakes his head. “Cuter than you that’s for sure,” Taehyung jibes.

“You wound me,” Jimin places his hands over his heart and mimics getting slapped in the face. Taehyung kicks his shin as he opens the door to the karaoke room and Jimin jumps up as he clutches his leg. “You’re so mean to me,” He whines as he stumbles into the room.

“Who, me?” Yoongi calls up lazily from his phone. He has both legs thrown on top of the table and a notebook on the seat next to him. Jimin can barely see the top of his head because Yoongi is slowly sinking down into his seat. “Because I’m doing my job correctly if that’s the case.”

Jimin plops down in the chair across from Namjoon, who’s mechanically eating chips as his eyes are glued to the tv screen. Taehyung sits down next to Namjoon and puts his feet up on the table as well. “Careful hyung otherwise you’ll shrink.” Taehyung’s stolen the only bag of shrimp chips and he stuffs a handful into his face. Jimin leans over the table for one but Taehyung moves the bag out of his grasp, pouting.

“I’d still be taller than you,” Yoongi shoots back and he sits up, feet nearly knocking the soda on the table as he swings them back around. Taehyung shakes his head vigorously in approval as he takes yet another handful of the shrimp chips. “Get your feet off the table, you’re dripping water onto it.” Yoongi hits Taehyung’s grabs the soda bottle and begins to violently beat Taehyung’s legs with them.

“This hyung is so mean and short,” Taehyung says around a mouthful of shrimp chips, and purposefully swing his legs around so that some of the water is flung into Yoongi’s face, who promptly makes a very disgusted face, only he ends up hitting Namjoon instead. “Whoops?” he offers sheepishly when Namjoon looks up to see a pair of extremely dirty and wet boots sitting on top of his head.

Hoseok looks at Jimin and begins jumping up and down, snorting wildly. He runs by to give Taehyung a high-five, the smack resonates in the room, and resumes laughing on the ground. Taehyung begins to giggle too as Yoongi’s face drops and he scowls.

“Great, not another one,” Yoongi gestures to Taehyung who’s suddenly joined on the floor with Hoseok. He sighs as he brings his hands up to rub his temples. Namjoon pats him sympathetically but not before snickering at him. “Jimin he’s your friend get him to shut up.”

Jimin shrugs in response and decides to use this opportunity to grab the shrimp chips that Taehyung had so graciously abandoned. “He’s unstoppable,” He starts eating the chips and Yoongi is shaking his head before resting it on the table. Jimin hears him murmur something along the lines of “troublesome kids” and a loud groan.





The sound of Yoongi’s high note is still resonating in Jimin’s left ear as he walks out with Taehyung. Hoseok had left in the middle of their karaoke session because he has to cover Seokjin’s early morning shift at the bakery tomorrow. Taehyung had managed to convince Jimin to leave so they wouldn’t have to clean up and pay while Namjoon was in the bathroom and Yoongi was passionately singing his high A.

They’re both outside now, huddled closely together and waddling down the streets like penguins. Jimin’s knee bumps against Taehyung as they’re running down the street and giggling like the high school students they saw in the afternoon. “I think my ear is still ringing,” Jimin complains as he rubs his left ear.

Taehyung draws Jimin in with one of his arms so his head is resting against Taehyung’s chest. The position is awkward yet Jimin maintains it as they both continue to walk underneath the streetlights. “That’s the price for not paying the check and cleaning up.” Taehyung shivers as he buries his nose into Jimin’s hat.

“But why does it have to be me?” Jimin whines as he struggles to keep his body upright. “It should be you, you’re younger than I am.”

“Don’t hate,” Taehyung punches Jimin with his free arm. “You’re shorter than I am so it only makes sense.” Something warm blossoms across Jimin’s chest and there’s a pleasantly warm feeling spreading across his chest. He thinks its from the shot that Yoongi had practically shoved down his throat (“I want to see what his reaction is.” “Hyung, he’s still underage, I need my dance instructor!”) and not because he can hear the beating of Taehyung’s heart.

Jimin’s heart is thumping erratically and threatening to jump out of his ribcage for Taehyung to see at any moment. “You’re so mean to me,” Jimin complains as he wraps his arms around Taehyung’s waist (to steady himself, not because it makes him feel fuzzy inside). “You should respect me more. I’m your hyung too.”

He looks down into Jimin’s eyes for a moment, considering his words before bursting out in laughter. “You’re so funny, Jimin-ah.” Taehyung leaves Jimin sputtering for air by cutting off his air supply. “This is nice,” Taehyung sighs as he looks up into the sky, most of the stars obscured by the city lights. Jimin brings his head up and he can see the puffs of air that leave his best friend’s mouth, even though it’s February. The orange glow of the streetlamps are reflected in Taehyung’s eyes and give his face a warm glow.

“Yeah, it is.” Jimin swallows the lump in his throat and inhales the sharp, cold air. He looks up to the sky and the stars are twinkling at him, in time to the beating of his heart.





Taehyung lets out a loud groan as he buries his head underneath his math textbook. “I hate math,” he complains to Hoseok’s stack of papers. “It’s so hard.”

“Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard if you actually paid attention in class,” Jimin retorts as he scrolls through Taehyung’s email. “There’s this one girl reminding you to text her about the project.” Jimin hums his the lines to Yoongi’s new song underneath his breath as he deletes some of the clutter in Taehyung’s inbox. “Someone else messaged you through a forum about the recent One Piece chapter?” Jimin squints at Taehyung who doesn’t look up from the table.

“Leave me alone so I can pretend I’m not an adult,” he whines as he stomps and kicks against the back of the desk. “I’m going to pretend that I don’t have any responsibilities.”

“If you leave any scuff marks Hoseok-hyung will make you clean the floor,” Jimin remarks dryly as he picks the book off of Taehyung’s head. He reaches over to smooth out the crumpled piece of loose leaf and places a pencil on top.

“Screw Hobi-hyung,” Taehyung mutters into the desk. “I’ll make you clean the floor for me.” Taehyung lifts his head up from the desk and there’s a long line of spit connected to the newly-formed puddle of drool. He pouts and widens his head and Jimin’s never seen anything so disgusting yet cute at the same time.

“You’re disgusting,” he says and pushes Taehyung’s head so he ends tripping over the leg of the desk and sprawled onto the floor. “Stop being so lazy and actually pay attention in class instead of texting me the entire time.”

“Class is so boring Jiminie,” Taehyung grumbles as he adjusts his hat. “It’s no fun when you aren’t in school with me.” He looks up at Jimin, and there’s spit smeared over his entire right cheek and his shirt is probably three days old at this point yet Jimin’s heart refuses to cooperate.

He plops down on the ground across from Taehyung and flicks his forehead. “Pay. Attention. In. Class.” He gets back up and into Hoseok’s cool spinny chair (that apparently Namjoon picked up in the streets one day, but it’s comfy and Jimin doesn’t exactly care).

“Jiminie is so mean to me,” Taehyung whines as he lays down against the floor. “Oh, what could I have ever done in my past life to deserve this?” Taehyung blows his bangs out of the way, they’ve been recently dyed orange and Jimin still expects to see bright neon pink every time he looks at him, and kicks his legs against the floor.

Jimin rolls over so he’s lying perpendicular to his friend. “You probably sold your soul to the devil because you were an occult dweeb.” Jimin replies as Taehyung’s stomach rises.

“Hey,” Taehyung whispers as he grabs Jimin’s hand. Taehyung peels his back off the floor and Jimin sits up, in his lap. “I really wish you were in college with me, it’s not the same without you.” Taehyung says while his eyes are drilling holes into Jimin’s.

“Yeah, so do I.” His voice cracks and Jimin squeezes his eyes shut when they start to prickle.

Jimin is lying in bed with Taehyung lying by his side and their legs are both intertwined and Jimin is running his finger down Taehyung’s inner arm. The seconds on his counter are ticking away as fast as his heart is beating and Jimin can’t help but frown.

“Hey,” he says and Taehyung opens his eyes to peer up at him. “You won’t forget me right?”

“What do you mean forget you?” Taehyung asks as he props himself with arm and interlaces their hands together.

“When this stops,” Jimin taps at Taehyung’s wrist and his heart feels heavy inside his chest but he continues on, “Promise you won’t forget about me, no matter how much you love them.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Taehyung smiles at Jimin and it’s so bright it hurts. “You’re always going to be the most important to me, I promise, Jimin.”





Yoongi is playing some obnoxiously loud music through the computer speakers as Jimin lies against the mirror and wipes the sweat forming on his forehead. He’s eighteen years, one hundred and seventy-eight days, sixteen hours, and thirty-six seconds old. Yoongi shuts off the music to which Namjoon groans from his lap. “So when are you going to tell him?” He asks.

“Tell who what hyung?” Jimin replies groggily as his eyelids threaten to drop. The muscles in his legs are still sore from the new choreography for the dance he and Hoseok had been preparing as well as his dance class earlier in the day.

"Your firstborn son,” Yoongi snaps and Jimin can hear his eye roll from here. “I mean Kim fucking Taehyung who else would I mean it’s not like you have any other friends besides us and Seokjin-hyung.”

“There’s Hyosang…” Jimin offers meekly as he trails off and Yoongi bores his eyes into Jimin’s. Jimin grins cheekily at the older boy. Yoongi closes his eyes and visibly counts to ten and he accidentally grips Namjoon’s hair a bit too tightly as he runs his fingers through them.

“What the hell?” Namjoon grumbles as he jerks upright from Yoongi’s lap. He smooths out his hair before lying back down. If Jimin tries hard enough he can see the vein forming on Yoongi’s left temple.

“I’m surrounded by idiots.” Yoongi’s eyes widen in horror as he stares at Jimin. “I live with Namjoon and Hoseok, I live with idiots.”

Hoseok snorts as he looks up from his phone. “Hyung, you’re so hurtful you’ve been living with us for three years.”

“Four,” Namjoon corrects lazily.

“I need to take a vacation.” Yoongi moans as he narrows his eyes, like he’s suddenly discovered that he did, indeed, share an apartment with Namjoon and Hoseok. “Oh my god, Jimin, stop avoiding the question.” Yoongi snaps after a second. Jimin shies away and Hoseok lets out a loud laugh, filling the room.

Namjoon gets up from Yoongi’s lap and squats down next to Jimin. “You know what he means,” He says as he looks Jimin into the eye. The atmosphere in the room is turning thick and heavy and Jimin is breathing but the oxygen refuses to go to his lungs. “How long do you think you can keep this a secret for?”

Forever, Jimin hopes as he folds up his legs and brings his knees into his chest. He feels small, small like the way he felt when his counter stopped and he didn’t have a soulmate. It’s the same way he felt like he was shrinking into nothingness as he stood in the kitchen as his parents spoke to him for the very last time.

“Jimin,” Yoongi sighs exasperatedly and Jimin curls up even more. Jimin thinks that if he turns small enough maybe he can avoid Yoongi’s disappointed gaze. Namjoon shifts from his feet onto the floor and Jimin is aware of every breath they take. “It can’t last forever,” Yoongi’s eyes are like black and lackluster as they meet his.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t pretend it won’t,” Jimin retorts as he jerks his head forcefully. He tilts his chin up and Yoongi just shakes his head while Namjoon makes a clicking sort of noise besides him. “I’ll deal with it when it happens.”

Hoseok gets up from his seat, he’s been unusually silent since the start of the conversation, and glares at Namjoon who hurriedly scoots away and then at Yoongi. Yoongi offers a shrug as he spins around in the chair. Hoseok settles down next to Jimin and wraps his arms around him. It’s warm and comforting and Jimin instinctively shifts into his embrace. “Jimin we just don’t want to see you get upset.”

“Who says it has to happen, hyung?” Jimin asks as he rests his head against Hoseok’s chest. His heartbeat is calm and steady and Jimin takes a deep breath. Hoseok smells like sweat and frankly he reeks to the point it nauseating, yet there’s an underlying scent of some drug store deodorant and tangerines. His arms are loose around Jimin’s chest whereas Taehyung’s would be squeezing the air out of his lungs.

“You know it’s inevitable.” Yoongi’s voice is sharp and harsh and it grates against Jimin’s ears in an eerily familiar way. “So why are you-” Yoongi’s voice is cut off by Namjoon’s kick to his shin. Hoseok is rubbing circles into the back of Jimin’s chest as he glares at Yoongi.

“Jimin-ah,” Hoseok says softly and he looks down at him. Jimin looks up and Hoseok uses his other hand to take off his snapback (the one Taehyung gave him for his birthday) and brushes his bangs out of the way. “If you ignore the problem now it doesn’t mean it’ll go away. It’s just going to hurt more when it comes.”

He clenches his fist at his waist and grits his teeth. “Don’t do this to me, hyung.” Jimin pleads as he tugs on Hoseok’s shirt. He looks up into his eyes and his heartbeat is stuttering all over the place, the same way he feels like doing whenever he’s with Taehyung. “I don’t want to do this.”

The elder bites his lip as he looks at Yoongi and Namjoon imploringly. “We want to help you, Jimin.” Namjoon speaks for Hoseok. “We’re just trying to lessen the pain before it comes.”

“If you wanted to help me you wouldn’t ask me to do that,” Jimin sits up and pushes Hoseok’s arms away. His blood is starting to boil and this time he clenches his fist until his nails are digging into the palm of his hands. “You guys aren’t helping me.”

“Please, Jimin." Hoseok reaches for his hand but Jimin swats it away. The dancer looks at him sadly before taking his hand again and Jimin lets him take it this time because there’s something about the urgency in his voice he forgets his anger for a moment. “Just promise us you’ll come to us when it does happen,” Hoseok nearly whispers.

Jimin is staring at his hand intertwined with Hoseok’s and he looks up to see his eyes glistening. He looks over to Yoongi and Namjoon, Yoongi with a sour expression on his face and Namjoon who’s twiddling with his thumbs. There’s shame rising up into Jimin’s chest, along with the subsided anger and the pain he had felt early. His throat is dry and parched when he opens up his mouth and his lips are quivering, “Yeah, I promise.”





When Jimin gets home the first thing he hears is a loud screech of “Park Jiminie!” and the first thing he sees is Taehyung rushing towards him at a hundred kilometers per hour. So naturally, he drops his bag in fright and braces himself against the apartment door before Taehyung does come to a screeching halt, not before nearly slipping on his socks, and wraps his arms around Jimin’s waist and promptly plants his face there as well.

“Uh, what are you doing?” Jimin asks hesitantly when it’s been three minutes later and Taehyung still hasn’t come back up for air. He can feel him vibrating with a ridiculous amount of energy and Jimin brings his hands to Taehyung’s head to hold him still.

“Guess what happened today?” Taehyung beams when he does come back up, a minute later. There’s a huge grin on his face that contrasts with the shirt Jimin is pretty sure hasn’t been washed in two weeks. Jimin bends down to pick his bag up and then walks into the kitchen and sets it on the table. “So guess.” Taehyung tells him once more when he’s seated in the chair opposite to him.

“I don’t know you got a pet fish?” Jimin says as he walks over to the kitchen counter to get a glass of water. He’s seated back at the table and Taehyung is still thrumming with happiness. “A rabbit?” Jimin asks and Taehyung shakes his head as he bounces up and down in his seat. “A cat? A dog?”

“Even better,” Taehyung squeals. He leans over the table and holds up his left wrist for Jimin to see. ‘Look!” He exclaims proudly. Jimin’s stomach is mimicking that familiar feeling when first going down on a rollercoaster, except this is not nearly as exciting or fun as it would be if he were actually on one.

He takes Taehyung’s wrist with his right hand and drags the fingers of his left hand down his forearms. The black numbers wink at him in the corner of his eye, much like they did when his own counter stop. Jimin doesn’t breath when his finger halts at the very first zero.

“Oh,” He falters. The zero is burning its way into his index finger and his own wrist gets that familiar itching feeling. Jimin runs his finger back and forth across the motionless numbers and the name Jeon Jungkook scrawled in handwriting that certainly doesn’t like like Taehyung’s below. When he reaches the ‘k’ he hisses and draws his finger away in pain. “That’s great,” He smiles hesitantly and he hopes Taehyung doesn’t see through his translucent act.

“It is, isn’t it?” Taehyung exclaims as he wraps both his arms around Jimin to bury him into another hug. “I met him outside of the dance studio, he was thinking about signing up for lessons,” Taehyung informs Jimin’s shoulder.

“Yeah, it’s wonderful.” Jimin brings his arms up slowly to Taehyung’s back. His wrist is itching and he scratches lightly at the black numbers. There’s a distinctive emptiness on his skin below the counter where a name would have been. “I’m happy for you,” He assures Taehyung and there’s the teensy tiny corner of his heart who whispers, no you’re not. Jimin shuts his eyes and stomps out that part of his heart so his words are completely genuine.

He’s eighteen years, one hundred and eighty-nine days, three hours, and thirty-four seconds old when the first splinter in his heart forms.





It’s the first day of summer break, for the small children like Jungkook, and the sun is too bright in Jimin’s eyes and he feels disgusting but Taehyung insists on holding his hand on the way to the amusement park.

“Let go of me,” Jimin grumbles as he attempts to shake Taehyung’s iron grip off his hand. His snapback is pulled down low over his eyes because he spent last night kaokaotalking to his hyungs to which Yoongi told him to shut up and stop being stupid and Seokjin cheerfully reminded him to put on sunscreen because the forecast said it was going to be sunny the next day.

In retort, Taehyung tightens his grip and Jimin groans as he can feel the sweat pooling between their fingers. “Don’t you like me?” Taehyung pouts as he looks up towards Jimin and his nose is beginning to turn a slight pink and it clashes with the fiery-orange hair. Maybe Seokjin should have came and brought Hyosang along to supervise this field trip.

“No,” Jimin shoves Taehyung with his hip into the nearby light pole. He makes an affronted face and kicks Jimin’s ankle. “You’re too ugly for me to like.” Jimin refutes as he struggles once more to release his hand. “Can you let go?” He stops in the middle of the street hands come to a halt.

Taehyung is absently rubbing at his hip with his free hand and blinks at Jimin. “Uh, no.” Using his other hand to give him a better grip, Taehyung begins to drag Jimin down the street and he smiles meekly and dips his head at the ahjussis. “Come on, we’re going to be late.” Taehyung whines like a petulant small child and Jimin shakes his head and ignores the fluttering in his chest.

Outside of the entrance to the zoo a tall, dark-haired boy stands by the ticket booth, with both his hands in his pockets, and he towers over the children with rainbow-colored clothes and brighter smiles. He’s standing there, looking around awkwardly, and Jimin can spot the baby fat that’s still in his cheeks. His eyes dart around and when they land on Taehyung and his back slackens and a smile spreads across his face.

Jimin’s hand is empty and devoid of another sweaty palm when Taehyung barrels into the other boy. He pauses in mid-step as Taehyung squeals, “Jungkookie!” and hugs the breath out of him. “This is the Jimin I was telling you about,” He waves wildly and nearly knocks off Jimin’s snapback.

“He’s shorter in real life,” Jungkook remarks and Jimin can feel his heart being squeezed by an invisible hand (is it Jungkook’s or Taehyung’s?). “Do I actually need to call him hyung?” He tilts up his chin defiantly and in that split second Jimin knows that he’s transparent as it can get. Jimin looks down to Jungkook’s wrist (counter stopped and the name Taehyung tattooed underneath) and he squeezes his eyes shut and forces the empty feeling on his wrist to go away.

“Of course you do,” Jimin laughs, it's awkward and grating on his ears, and leans over to mess up Jungkook’s hair and he immediately ducks out of Jimin’s grasp. A smile is spreading across Taehyung’s face, and if Jimin weren’t squinting he’d probably be blinded by the sheer brightness. He reaches for Jimin’s wrist and his heart is threatening to jump out of his ribcage, and pulls him along.

Halfway through the day, not date, Jimin ducks into the bathroom as Taehyung orders food and Jungkook is sitting at the table when his heart is about to burst. He kicks the door to the bathroom stall as and the frustration is welling inside of him and slaps his forehead repeatedly because he is so, so, so stupid.

Turning on the faucet, Jimin splashes water on his face and he’s reminded of the black zeros and the absence of a name on his left wrist. The blink mockingly at him and Jimin pulls at his hair. Someone’s arms are enveloping him in a hug and it takes a second for Jimin to realize that it’s Taehyung.

“Sorry,” He apologizes as his arms drop down at his side. Sorry for being so selfish, he wants to scream. In the mirror he can see Taehyung’s chin resting comfortably on his shoulder and his arms wrapped around his stomach and the picture it paints is too much for his stomach to handle.

“It’s okay,” Taehyung whispers back into his ear as they begin to sway back and forth. “I’m sorry I asked you to come.” Jimin feels like crying, or maybe running to Hoseok-hyung and Seokjin-hyung. Taehyung presses his nose into the side of Jimin’s neck and the selfish part of him wants this moment to last forever.

“Don’t be ridiculous Tae,” He snorts, and its fake just like the way he pretends to be completely happy for Taehyung and Jungkook. Jimin tries to stamp out that thought in his mind as he rests his arms over Taehyung’s. “Jungkook’s nice, I like him,” He insists and it’s not a complete lie, just almost true. (He just doesn’t like the way Jungkook’s wrist has Taehyung’s name inscribed into his wrist).

At this Taehyung beams and squeezes Jimin’s stomach a bit harder. “I was worried you two wouldn’t like each other.” He breathes out a sigh of relief and Jimin lets out a hollow laugh because what kind of friend wishes that their friend didn’t have a soulmate? “You’re too important for me to lose, I’m never going to give you up, Park Jimin, not for anyone.”

The rest of the day Jimin smiles brightly and laughs a bit too loudly (it’s only completely genuine when a monkey spits on Jungkook, and then Taehyung) but it’s worth to see his best friend’s face being lit up. However, Jimin’s heart betrays him when a shy, hesitant smile spreads until it’s a full blown one as Taehyung reaches for Junkook’s hand. It hurts even more when Taehyung waves absently at the air before grabbing his. Jimin is eighteen years, two hundred and twenty-one, thirteen minutes, and forty-seven seconds when he realizes this is only the start of a long heartbreak.





Seokjin ruffles the top of Jimin’s head as he places a bowl in front of him and Jimin can smell his favorite noodles placed in front of him. “Isn’t this a bakery, not a noodle shop?” He asks the patterns on the table. Jimin’s nose is beginning to feel sore from being squashed but the dots and dashes and swirls have been extremely interesting for the past half hour.

“Hyosang had leftovers when he came over,” Seokjin replies as he sits down in the chair opposite of Jimin and kicks his ankle until he looks up. Jimin glances outside to the window and he

“Am I your dog now?” Jimin deadpans as he resists the urge to faceplant into the table once more. “I see how much you truly value me now.” Jimin sighs as he stares out the window and watches the pedestrians walking down the street.

“Be grateful, that’s probably the freshest meal you’ve had in half a year,” Seokjin miffs as he takes Jimin’s chopsticks to take a bite.

Jimin pouts at Seokjin and he relents, giving him his noodles back. Jimin takes another bite, but not before sighing once more. “It’s not fair,” He laments to Seokjin as he lays his right temple against the table, watching the curls of steam rise from the bowl. “Why couldn’t I be like everyone else?”

“Not all soulmates are happy together,” Seokjin twists Jimin’s hair around his finger. “Just because you have each other’s names tattooed on each other’s wrists doesn’t mean that you’ll end up in a happy relationship.”

“I know,” Jimin whines petulantly. He sighs again, it’s the tenth time in a minute. “You and Hyosang are happy together,” He remarks darkly as he traces the patterns of the ceramic bowl. “I’m sorry,” He apologizes before Seokjin can say anything.

Seokjin’s hand moves over to the base of Jimin’s neck and begins to rub circles. “Hey,” he mutters, “I know you think you need his love to be happy.” Jimin feels guilty for being so greedy and selfish and stupid. “But just so you know, you don’t need someone’s love to be happy.”

“Yeah, sorry hyung,” Jimin rolls his head over and Seokjin’s eyebrows are narrowed as he looks down at him with a slight frown. “I know,” His mouth blabbers another excuse (why is he so needy?), “It’s so difficult when he’s around me all the time. I can’t stop thinking about him and about him and Jungkook and I know I should be happy because he’s happy but I’m here instead. This sucks.”

“Do you really dislike me that much?” Seokjin asks as he smiles hesitantly. Jimin affirms his statement with a nod. “I know you think that you need Taehyung’s love to be happy, but just remember he’s one person in seven billion. And if you think it’s really meant to be, Well,” Seokjin smiles at softly at him, “Then all you need to do is wait.”

Jimin turns his head and he blinks back his tears as Seokjin squeezes his shoulder tightly.





"Guess what?” Taehyung asks the moment Jimin arrives back in their apartment. Jungkook smiles hesitantly at him from the couch with a video game console in his hand and Jimin tosses his bag onto the kitchen table a bit too harshly.

“What?” He asks as he goes takes one last sip from his drink and offers the rest to Taehyung. Taehyung snatches it greedily with his free hand and rests his head against Jungkook as he sucks from the straw noisily.

“Guess,” Taehyung smiles at him and kicks Jimin’s butt so he stumbles onto the floor. His eyes are full of mirth as he continues to finish the fizzy drink and Jimin looks at him with an affronted expression.

“I signed up for the dance class,” Jungkook interrupts them and Taehyung punches the side of his stomach lightly. Jimin forgets that Jungkook is spends almost every other day at their apartment, ever since the Second Date as Taehyung likes to label it.

Taehyung beams at him as he hugs Jungkook even tighter. “Isn’t that great news?” He beams at Jimin as Jungkook makes a disgruntled sort of sound and shimmies his way out of Taehyung’s grasp. He looks exasperated and Jimin beratedly thinks that he wouldn’t worm out of Taehyung’s grasp. “Hoseok-hyung is going to be Jungkookie’s teacher and you two can get even closer.”

“Yeah,” Jimin manages to answer evenly. His fists are trembling by his side and he desperately prays that Taehyung won’t see his knuckles turn white. (When he unfurls his hands later they’re marred by crescent-shaped marks). “Maybe now Jungkook can call me hyung.”

Taehyung and Jimin are both sitting on his mattress and Taehyung’s head is resting against his shoulder and his arms are encircling his waist. Jimin’s heart is a soft pitter patter and he slowly brings his arm to wrap around Taehyung’s stomach and rests his chin on top of his head. (He’s eighteen years, two hundred sixty-seven, ten hours, fourteen minutes, and eight seconds old).

“Sometimes I wonder if soulmates are really meant to be,” Taehyung murmurs into Jimin’s shoulder and he nearly doesn’t catch it.

“I don’t know either,” Jimin mumbles as he averts his eyes to the coffee stain on Taehyung’s sweatpants. “Maybe sometimes your destined soulmate and your actual one don’t always match up, like Yoongi and Namjoon and Hoseok.”

“I used to think I would be happy if I just found my soulmate,” Taehyung remarks absently as his eyes follow patterns on the ceiling that Jimin can only hope to see. “What do you think about love, Jiminie?” Taehyung asks as he tilts his head up to look into his eyes.

He’s taken aback by the question, “What?” He asks and inside he berates himself for being so slow. “I,” He begins hesitantly, “I think loving someone and being in love are two different things.” He looks to Taehyung’s eyes for confirmation to continue and from this proximity he can see the specks of black. “I think being in love is when the smallest thing a person does makes you enraptured, but you’re also aware of all their flaws. It’s when the way they drool all over your shirt is cute and how you can’t breathe that split second when they wake up next to you. But you hate the way they never listen to you and insist on drinking the cup of hot chocolate right after its been made.”

Taehyung exhales and his mouth is pressed into a thin line. “I used to think I knew what love was. I was so sure of it too but,” He looks up and when Jimin meets Taehyung’s eyes they’re wet and glistening. “Do you think all soulmates fall in love? Or is it just something for fairytales,” Taehyung mumbles into the side of Jimin’s chest.

“Yeah,” Jimin’s throat is parched. “I wish I knew too,” He tightens his arms around Taehyung and some unseen pressure is digging into his sternum. He chooses not to comment on the wet spots forming on the side of his shirt.





They’re both lying in the dance studio (eighteen years, two hundred seventy-eight, fifteen hours, thirty-three minutes, and nine seconds) and Jimin bites back a giggle as Taehyung attempts to shove another marshmallow into his mouth. His eyes are wide and his cheeks are bloated and the other marshmallows threaten to spill out of his mouth. The “twelve chubby bunnies” are muffled by the sheer amount of spun sugar in his mouth.

Reaching for the bag, half empty by this point, Jimin picks another marshmallow and forces it into his mouth. He gags for a moment, but regains control and manages to mumble “twelve chubby bunnies” without throwing up.

“You two are disgusting,” Yoongi’s voice filters through as he opens the door and Namjoon is right behind him. He wrinkles his nose and steps into the room.

“Is this the life of a college student?” Namjoon asks as he grabs one of the marshmallows and stuffs it into his face. Taehyung says something but it’s obscured by the marshmallows. “I’ll take that as an invitation to play.” Namjoon takes another marshmallow and puts it into his cheeks. He looks like a bloated chipmunk and Jimin and Taehyung look at each other and burst out in laughter.

“Urgh,” Yoongi scowls as he sits down next to them, “Not you too Namjoon.” Namjoon only shrugs his shoulder as he reaches for his third marshmallow. “I’m telling Hoseok about this, just so you know.”

Namjoon spits out the marshmallows onto the dance floor in shock and Jimin attempts to imitate Yoongi’s expression behindn his back. Taehyung somehow snickers with twelve jumbo marshmallows in his mouth. “You’re too cruel,” Namjoon whines petulantly and he sends Jimin and Taehyung a glare. It only ends up making him looking ridiculous the spit continues to dribble down his chin.

“This is disgusting,” Yoongi shoves Namjoon away as he gestures vaguely to the mess on the floor as well as the almost empty marshmallow bag. “Make sure you clean up this mess and maybe your life while you’re at it.” Yoongi reprimands the three of them. Namjoon lets out a high-pitched noise and attempts to widen his eyes and pout. “Hoseok also told me to give you these.”

“What?” Jimin asks around the marshmallows as he picks up the papers which Yoongi had hesitantly put down next to him.

“He said you’d know,” Yoongi shrugs as he sits up and begins to walk over to the door. “Have fun cleaning up,” He waves absently and Namjoon scrambles up after him. “Don’t worry too much, Jiminie.” Yoongi shouts once the door slams shut.

Taehyung begins to swallow and his face is red for a total of five minutes before it turns back. “You aren’t going to leave me, are you?” Taehyung maneuvers around the puddle of Namjoon’s spit and jumbo jet marshmallows so he’s facing Jimin’s face as he sits in his lap.

Jimin begins to rapidly chew and swallow and he nearly gags by the time he’s finished. “What do you mean? I’m never leaving you.” He fiddles with the collar of Taehyung’s shirt. His heart is speeding up and maybe it’s just the sugar catching up with him.

“Then why do you have forms for a trip?” Taehyung raises an eyebrow as he reaches for the top paper and shakes it in front of his face. “I need you, you aren’t allowed to leave me.” He crosses his arms and looks away from Jimin. “You’re the most important to me, Park Jimin.”

His heart stammers and skips several beat before it manages to quell the surge of affection. “I only have you,” Jimin sets aside the rest of the paper as he takes Taehyung’s hands in his. “I’m not going to leave you,” He promises.






“Can you buy me McDonalds?” Jungkook asks from the side as he watches Jimin packing his bag. Jimin stops with his extra pair of pants in his hand and looks incredulously at him. Jungkook shrugs sheepishly, “I’m hungry.”

“Can’t you wait until we get back home?” Jimin eyes Jungkook as he stuffs his pants into the bag and zips it up. He slings it over his shoulder and walks out the door, holding it open for Jungkook.

Jungkook jogs over and whines in a voice mimicking Taehyung, “Please, Jiminie will you buy McDonalds for me?” He pouts for extra measure and rubs circles into his stomach. Jimin thinks darkly that Taehyung taught Jungkook these tricks in hopes that they’d work on him, and it’s only because Jungkook looks so ridiculous (and maybe just a little bit cute with his extra baby fat still stuck on his cheeks, but Jimin would never admit that Jungkook reminded him of his little brother) that he relents.

“Jiminie-hyung,” He admonishes Jungkook as he continues to walk ahead, pretending to ignore him.

Letting out an exasperated sigh Jungkook concedes, “Hyung, will you please buy me McDonalds?” There’s a smile on his face as he hugs Jimin, quick and he’s nearly startled out of step, before jumping down the street. “Thanks Jimin, I wanted to get Taehyung that new Iron Man toy with the Kid’s Meal.”

“That’s my job,” Jimin frowns as he increases his pace to catch up with Jungkook, “And it’s hyung for you.”





Jimin flops onto the mattress and buries his face into the pillow as he groans. Taehyung looks up briefly from his computer before pushing up his classes up his nose and Jimin thinks he looks ridiculous because Taehyung doesn’t even need glasses. Jimin grabs his phone and texts Hoseok, lamenting about his problems in life. He hears Taehyung’s computer snap shut as there’s a sudden dip in the mattress. Taehyung pushes his side and wraps his arm around Jimin.

His glasses are being pressed uncomfortably into his side and Jimin swings his arm around, the one Taehyung isn’t using as a pillow, to text back furiously at Namjoon who’s texting for Hoseok at the moment. His arm begins to feel sore and the position if ridiculous but Jimin continues anyway.

“Hey do you think I’m cute?” Taehyung inquires as he tugs at Jimin’s shirt. Jimin’s heart lurches in his chest (eighteen years, three hundred and two days, twenty hours, sixteen minutes, and fifty-seven seconds). He chooses to hum absently instead as he texts Hoseok in all caps lock. Taehyung yanks the collar of his shirt this time so Jimin is forced to look down at him, “Jiminie is mine, right?”

“What?” Jimin sputters as he nearly drops his phone. Taehyung’s grip on the collar of his shirt is unrelenting and Jimin feels the blood rushing to his cheeks. Taehyung’s gaze stare into his eyes and Jimin wonders why his heart still refuses to cooperate with him. “Of course I’m yours,” he murmurs as he ducks his head into the pillow, embarrassed.

“Then you should answer me,” Taehyung responds as he plucks Jimin’s phone and tosses it into the general vicinity of the bed. Jimin lets out an indignant squawk. “So do you think I’m cute?” He asks again as he pulls Jimin’s waist closer to his.

“No, I think you look stupid,” Jimin squirms as he cover his face with his hands and attempts to get out of Taehyung’s iron grip. “Don’t you have a lab report that’s due soon?” He asks when Taehyung’s disapproving gaze still hasn’t shifted.

“I wanted to cuddle with you,” Taehyung informs Jimin as he moves his arms so they’re wrapped around his shoulders. “It’s a lot more fun than working on my report. Besides, we never have quality cuddling time anymore.” Jimin bites his tongue before asking if the reason behind that is because Taehyung spends all his time cuddling with Jungkook, despite the fact that his smiles don’t fully reach his eyes when he’s with him now.

Taehyung puts his head against Jimin’s head and Jimin tries to breathe evenly so his heart isn’t racing. He’s not very successful in his endeavor. Taehyung moves his arm that’s draped over Jimin’s waist and tugs at his wrist. Jimin shifts his position so their hands are intertwined in a comfortable position.
“I’m the best cuddler, right?” He asks as he rests his chin on top of Taehyung’s head. It’s soft and tickles at his nose and he breathes in deeply.

“Yeah, the best.” Taehyung replies into Jimin’s shirt. Jimin looks at their interlaced hands and wonders they’re hands actually fit together perfectly or if he’s just imagining it.





Hoseok is stroking his hair as Jimin lies in his lap and he’s busy pulling at the stray threads on the couch in the office. “I’m so dumb,” He laments as Hoseok continues to run his hand through his hair.
“Yeah, I agree,” Yoongi agrees distractedly as he figures out the the beat for his new track. Namjoon is busily scrawling lyrics besides him and the two are deeply immersed in their work.

Jimin looks up to Hoseok who looks faintly amused at the situation. “I’m not dumb,” he whines and he feels faintly embarrassed when it comes out eerily similar to Taehyung. Spending almost his entire life as Taehyung’s probably wasn’t the best decision of his life. “My life sucks,” He exhales dejectedly into Hoseok’s thigh.

“Yeah, it does.” Yoongi responds as he plays the a short section of the track. Hoseok makes a disagreeing noise in the back of his throat and Namjoon slides over and takes the mouse from Yoongi.

“You worry too much, Jiminie,” Hoseok sighs absently as as he begins to play the strap of Jimin’s tanktop. “It’ll all work out in the end.” Jiminie makes a noncommittal grunt as he considers how stupid he and he mostly blames his heart for stumbling so easily. “Are you ever going to accept that dance offer, it’s a great opportunity you know?”

“I don’t know,” Jimin turns onto his side so he can see Yoongi and Namjoon both hunched over the desk. Maybe this is why Yoongi is so short, Jimin muses as Yoongi slouches further into the desk. “I promised Taehyung I wouldn’t leave him,” he drawls as he traces the wood patterns on the floor.

“I think you should do it,” Namjoon butts in as he looks up from his work. His face is stretched thin and taught and his eyes are threatening to close even though it’s only three in the afternoon. Dark rings circle his eyes and guilt twinges in Jimin’s chest. “I wish I could do something like that.”

“You see?” Hoseok beams at Jimin. “You’ll get to travel the world and dance at the same time.” Jimin blinks blankly at him and Hoseok continues, “And you get a discount because I teach some of the university’s students.”

Namjoon rubs his eyes and Jimin wonders how he can possibly go to one of the top universities in Seoul yet compose music with Yoongi and Hoseok for the underground scene. “Take it, Jimin, you never know what kind of people you can meet too. Seokjin won’t mind either.”

A flash of anger rises in Jimin’s chest and Hoseok is giving Namjoon the ‘you better shut up before I toss you outside into the dumpster’ look. He takes another look at the worry blatantly scrawled across Namjoon’s face and the way Yoongi pretends to be absorbed in his music but has stopped tapping on the table. “I don’t want to go, hyung.” He finally responds, “I don’t think I can go, not now.”

There’s resignation in Hoseok’s eyes. Namjoon spins back around in his chair and Yoongi continues to tap along to the beat, pretending as if nothing has happened. Hoseok sighs inaudibly as he resumes stroking Jimin’s hair, “Just tell me if you ever change your mind, okay?”





Jungkook and Taehyung are locked in an embrace on Jungkook’s doorstep like in some cliche movie. Taehyung leans in to say something, he can’t hear it even when he strains, and Jungkook begins to giggle. Jimin turns around, embarrassed, and he puts his hands underneath his armpits as he pretends that he ever saw their faces basked in the warm light of the lamp street. He kicks at the gravel on the pavement and pretends not to feel his heart withering away as the seconds extend into minutes.

The door closes and Jimin takes that as his cue to turn around. Taehyung stands there, with a smile on his face, and Jimin’s breath lodges in his throat. He offers his hand hesitantly to Taehyung as they walk down the street, and Jimin nearly doesn’t notice Jungkook pulling aside his curtains, waving from his room. He feels a small sense of victory when Taehyung grabs his hand and they continue down the street, but it fades quickly.

The light still hasn’t faded from the sky, and on the horizon. Jimin can see where the orange turns into faded green-yellow and mixes with cerulean, and lastly into a mixture of navy indigo and darkness. Their hands are swinging in tandem with Jimin’s heartbeat (nineteen years, twenty-six days, eleven hours, forty-nine minutes, and thirty-two seconds, thirty-three seconds, thirty four).

Taehyung looks up at Jimin and his shoulder feels cold from the lack of Taehyung. They’re still walking and Jimin’s hands are becoming grossly sweaty despite the weather and he resists the urge to wipe his palms against his pants. “Do you mind if Jungkook moves in with us?”

“What?” Jimin’s mind screeches to a halt along with his feet. His hand is still in Taehyung’s grasp and Taehyung is looking at him with his head tilted inquisitively. He blinks and in that split second (nineteen years, twenty six days,eleven hours, fifty-three minutes, six seconds) his heart shatters on the very pavement below them.

“Jungkook’s going to college next year, you know?” Taehyung rattles off as he pulls Jimin down the road once more. Jimin’s blood has turned tepid and his hands have turned and ice cold in contrast to what they were a few minutes ago. “And he’s planning to go to a college near us. Only if it’s okay with you.”

“That’s cool,” Jimin replies indifferently. He thinks Taehyung ought to be more careful with fragile things, maybe he should have known better considering how many mugs he unwittingly dropped. It was stupid of him to hand over something so fragile and so eagerly, when he should have kept his heart carefully guarded and wrapped in several layers of bubble wrap.

“Do you think it’s too early in our relationship for this? I thought it might help us.” Taehyung queries as he sneaks Jimin a doleful glance. “He doesn’t have to move in, not if it’s okay with you,” Taehyung adds after a moment of hesitation. Jimin feels himself being torn in two.

“No, it’s fine,” He insists as he thinks back to all the nights where Taehyung attempted to persuade Jimin that yes, it would be warmer if they slept together. He thinks back to early mornings, where he woke up groggily to discover that his entire shirt was soaked in Taehyung’s drool and the nights where his breathing was the only tie to reality. “I’m happy that Jungkook’s going to move in. Maybe I can finally get him to call me hyung.”

The happiness exploding on Taehyung’s face is nearly unbearable for Jimin. And somehow his chest still manages to squeeze and clench painfully. This time he’s almost certain it’s Taehyung’s hand doing the squeezing. “Thank you, Jiminie,” Taehyung releases his hand to engulf him in a hug. Jimin squirms for the first few seconds before finally going slack. He tentatively wraps his arms around Taehyung’s waist and Jimin’s nose is awkwardly stuck to the side of Taehyung’s armpit.

“It’s not a problem,” Jimin lies as his voice wavers. He hopes that Taehyung doesn’t feel the drops setting into his shirt and he turns his head so he can see the transformation of the red sun-streaked sky into darkness. The first thing he does when he gets back home (Taehyung is in the shower and he’s nineteen years, twenty six days, twelve hours, one minute, and forty-nine seconds) he picks up his phone and calls Hoseok.





Nineteen years, eighty-one days, five hours, twenty-six seconds Jimin slumps in the seat of the plane as he lays his head against the window pane. He rubs his temples and his phone vibrates against his thigh. Jimin takes a deep breath and thinks back to the tense car ride, where Seokjin had driven him with his jaw clenched and Hyosang had periodically looked back every minute. In the car Jimin gazed listlessly out of the window, watching the trees blend into splotches of green, with Hoseok’s hand on top of his.

Jimin picks it up and when the caller ID reads “Namjoon.” He presses decline and mutes his phone when his notification center is flooded with texts from Yoongi and Hoseok. Putting his headphones on, Jimin switches his phone to airplane mode and leans against the side of the plane. The closest he gets to sleep is when the plane finally lands, only to be jerked awake .

He’s sitting on his hotel bed, his roommate has left with the other university students, and his phone buzzes on the nightstand. Jimin is tempted to ignore it but then it buzzes again, and all the messages from the day previous are flooding in.

taehyung (9:32): jiminie where are you?
taehyung (9:50): jimin
taehyung (9:51): jimin
taehyung (9:51): jimin
taehyung (9:51): jimin
taehyung (9:51): jimin
taehyung (9:52): jimin
taehyung (9:52): jimin
taehyung (9:53): jimin
taehyung (9:54): jimin
hoseok (9:55): are you alright
hoseok (9:56): if you want to come back just message me
yoongi (10:09): you could at least message us to tell us that you made it
yoongi (10:14): okay then don’t
hoseok (10:21): please tell me if you’re alright
seokjin (10:47): wtf park jimin namjoon told me what happened i can’t believe you
seokjin (10:49): you have to face your problems not run away from them
seokjin (11:03): just please be okay
taehyung (1:32): jimin
taehyung (3:16): i miss you

Jimin drops his phone on the bed, his hands shaking and squeezes his eyes shut. His knees feel wobbly and he can no longer make an excuse for them. Taking a breath, Jimin shuts off his phone and places it next to the lamp. He turns off the light with a click and the room is so dark Jimin can hardly see anything except for the city lights. He settles into the bed and it’s too big and too wide and too cold, even though the blankets are thick. If Jimin wraps all the blankets around him and squints at the blinking light from the smoke detector he can pretend he’s back home, with Taehyung by his side.




Somewhere on North America, between Los Angelos and New York or maybe it’s even Chicago, Jimin doesn’t know anymore, every day becomes a routine. He wakes up to look at the ceiling, a different one every week. Sometimes it’s a plain gray one, other times its a speckled white one and Jimin gets lost in counting the bumps. He lies in bed, phone buzzing with messages on the nightstand that he can’t be bothered to check, his roommate who has his nose buried into the pillow.

The sunlight filters through the curtains and Jimin knows that should be his cue to get up, yet there’s something binding him to the bed. Each breath he takes is tiresome and he feels bone weary, at only nineteen years, ninety-three days, eighteen hours, twenty-six minutes, and forty-two seconds. He pulls the covers over his head, so he’s encompassed in the dark again and where his heart should be beating is only a hollow emptiness instead.

It’s only when his roommate is finally awake and stumbles noisily out of bed Jimin kicks off his blankets. The pressure on his chest is akin to the kind on takeoff, and Jimin struggles just to sit up. He puts on his clothes mechanically and when he eats he only does it out of necessity. It’s tasteless and bland and the loud laughter and roar has dulled filtered into white static in his mind. Jimin looks out past the lobby into the window. The motley of cars, the hotel walls, and the people all around him blend into the white emptiness of his mind.




Every time he dances, it becomes more and more difficult to summon emotion. He goes through his everyday motions and whenever he looks into the mirror all he can see are gaunt cheekbones and dark circles underneath his eyes. He feels weary and Jimin kicks in the mirror. He pulls his snapback over his eyes, the one that Taehyung bought him and it seems like even if he’s halfway across the world there’s no stop to the constant reminder.

The frustration bubbles up inside him and Jimin slides down to the floor. He looks up at the lights (they aren’t even that bright but why do they hurt so much?) and he feels absolutely disgusted with himself. He buries his face in his hands and he can feel warm tears dropping from his eyes. Jimin rubs his eyes and gets back up to go to his room, the emptiness in his heart growing more pronounced by the second.

“You alright?” his roommate asks him when Jimin is gazing blankly at the the phone. He’s startled out of his trance to look up at the unfamiliar face and Jimin realizes he still doesn’t know his name.

“Yeah,” Jimin replies as he stares at phone still, fingers frozen over his texts. It had been an accident when he clicked on it, he likes to think that at least, and Jimin would do anything to wipe it from his mind. “Don’t worry about me, I’m okay.”

“Soulmate?” His roommate inquires as his hand lingers on the doorknob.

“Something like that,” Jimin says and his roommate is fidgeting nervously and he can tell that he’s itching to leave. “Have fun,” He tells him and emphasizes the last word, in a flash his roommate is out the door. Jimin sighs as and his finger is still hovered over the texts and he thinks back to the initial flood of texts he first received when he left, the ones from Taehyung, confused, the ones from Hoseok and Seokjin, worried and concerned, and the ones from Namjoon and Yoongi, innate and trivial messages about their upcoming mixtape yet caring all the same.

jungkook (1:02): hyung you have to come back, he needs you





When Jimin arrives in Korea he takes the taxi to his former apartment, it was never really his to begin with anyway. He stands outside on the front steps and there’s a barrier preventing him from going inside. He takes a step forward and he can just imagine Taehyung sitting inside with Jungkook, giggling and eyes crinkling. Jimin’s walls start to crumble and before he can take another step he runs the opposite directions as fast as he can.

Taking the train, Jimin arrives on Seokjin’s front step an hour later. He shifts from foot to foot as he adjusts his shoulder strap and rings the doorbell. He hears it echo inside the apartment and Jimin stumbles backwards because the door opens so quickly. Seokjin is there with an apron on, an old worn out pink one that Yoongi gave him as a joke, with arms crossed and an extremely sour expression.

“Can I-” Jimin begins to ask as he voice suddenly trembles and he breaks off. He’s never felt so lost and hopeless without a place to go. Hyosang has his hands on Seokjin’s waist as he peers curiously from his side and stares at him, unblinking. They look picturesque together, with the simple domesticity and love in their postures, and it was everything he believed he would have when his counter stopped. Jimin’s resolve dissolves and tears begins to prickle at the edges of his eyes. He wipes them away furiously and sniffs before looking back up at Seokjin once more.

Seokjin lets out a big sigh and opens his arms and brings Jimin into an embrace. Hyosang quietly pads back into their apartment as Jimin chokes back a sob as his heart remembers that it was actually shattered into millions of tiny pieces. Seokjin runs his fingers through Jimin’s hair and rubs circles in his back and squeezes him tightly. “Hey, hey,” He whispers into Jimin’s ear as he nuzzles into his neck.

“I don’t think I’m okay,” Jimin admits as he bites his lip as he wipes his eyes. He draws in a quick breath and the oxygen stings his lungs. He buries his head into Seokjin shoulder, who only sighs in response. At nineteen years, one hundred and five days, twenty-three hours, and eleven seconds Jimin feels utterly hopeless.

Jimin lies face down into Seokjin and Hyosang’s sofa (nineteen years, one hundred nine days, eleven hours, twenty minutes, fifty-four seconds) feeling utterly stupid and lost as Seokjin strokes his hand rhythmically down his back. He shivers as he clutches the pillow and he can hear Hyosang padding quietly into the room and setting a mug down onto the table.

The sofa dips when Hyosang sits next to Jimin and he can hear him quietly murmuring something to Seokjin. He pauses momentarily and shifts Jimin off his lap. Jimin whines as he rolls over to look at the two of them, Hyosang’s hand in its familiar place on Seokjin’s hip and Seokjin’s on Hyosang’s back.

“Sorry,” Seokjin comes over to stroke Jimin’s hair out of his face and bends over. “We have to leave for Hyosang’s gig tonight.”

“Do you have to?” Jimin asks and he knows he’s being selfish but with Seokjin and Hyosang around he no longer needs to listen to himself and the swirling torment of his own thoughts. “Can’t you stay a bit longer?”

Hyosang hesitates as he steps forward, a frown marring his face and Jimin remembers their hushed whispers when he had lain on Seokjin’s lap earlier in the night, pretending to be asleep as he listened to them to escape his own thoughts. “It should be fine, I’ll just tell Namjoon to cover for me.” He says as he reaches for his phone on the table.

“No, it’s alright,” Jimin blurts out before Hyosang’s fingers can even begin to unlock his phone. He peers up and gives Jimin a disbelieving look and Seokjin is opening his mouth to say something, but Jimin cuts him off, “I think I want to spend the night alone today anyway.” It’s a shame he’s not as good as lying to himself as to other people.

“Just give us a call if you need us,” Seokjin frowns as he puts on his coat, hand automatically reaching from Hyosang’s. Jimin’s heart does a little ping and he draws the pillow closer to his chest. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” Jimin responds evenly, he thinks he’s gotten too good at this, as his heart begins to hammer and the old ache in his left wrist is coming back. “Have fun you guys.” Seokjin comes over to bring Jimin up for a hug before he walks out the door with Hyosang, leaving Jimin all alone in quiet emptiness.





The first thing Jimin does is turn on the television to full volume, some news channel playing in the background, and he begins to check all his messages meticulously. He scrolls through Hoseok’s recent ones, eyes skimming over the texts and he listens to his voicemail as well. Jimin plays the new song Namjoon and Yoongi had just finished composing, and he thinks that the lyrics are utterly ironic.

He finally brings himself to check Taehyung’s messages when he’s done listening to the new track seventeen times as well as playing the angry voicemails Yoongi had left (“Park fucking Jimin I know where you are why don’t you fucking answer us?”). He only gets through the first five messages before the doorbell rings.

Scampering to the front door, Jimin hopes that Hyosang and Seokjin came home early. He unlocks the door and a breeze flows through. His heart plummets when he sees Taehyung, who also looks taken aback, standing outside.

Jimin and Taehyung sit on the opposite sides of the coffee table and Taehyung is playing with the tablecloth as Jimin looks at the water stains peaking out from underneath the tablecloth. He fiddles with the hem of his shirt and he can feel his armpits turning sweaty as his heart begins to race.

“I missed you,” Taehyung murmurs quietly and Jimin sneaks a look at him. There are dark circles underneath his eyes that he doesn’t remember when he left Korea. “I missed you a lot, Jimin.”

He doesn’t say anything as his eyes run over his counter once more. “Did Seokjin tell you I was here?” He asks and his voice cracks at the very end. Jimin’s face feels hot and he feels light and dizzy and the thoughts which plagued him previously have left.

“No,” Taehyung leans forward as if to reach for him, before moving backwards once more. “He told me to come here because he wanted to give me some food for next week.”

“Not you and Jungkook?” Jimin’s mouth spits out the words with more malice than he thought he ever had. Jimin cringes as Taehyung becomes slinks down. Jimin feels himself becoming smaller and smaller and he wishes nothing more than down as to shrink into a tiny speck of dust.

“We broke up,” Taehyung mutters as his finger draws patterns into the carpet besides his sock. Jimin’s heart clammers up and maybe before when that traitorous small part of him might have felt happy he can barely process the fact and lets out a small “oh” instead. “It was a few weeks ago.”

Jimin is at a loss for words as his mind still attempts to catch up with the works “broke up.” “Oh,” he repeats once more as his heart pumps blood at a furious pace. He tilts his head to the side as the world around him unfocuses and his head feels extremely light.

“I thought you hated me,” Taehyung’s voice says distantly in the back of Jimin’s mind. He processes the words a minute later, as he continues to go on, “You didn’t respond to any of my messages and I thought I did something.”

“Sorry,” Jimin croaks as his throat turns parched and dry. (Nineteen years, one hundred and nine days, thirteen hours, twenty-six minutes, and forty-seven seconds). “I,” he struggles for the words as his heart refuses to calm down. “I just needed some time alone, I needed to get away.”

Taehyung’s face is crestfallen as he hears the words and Jimin feels guilty for inflicting this pain on him. He looks haggard and even though Seokjin and Hyosang didn’t tell him anything about Taehyung, Jimin doesn’t need to hear it to know that it was caused because of him. “I didn’t realize how important you were to me until you left,” Taehyung is looking at the ground this time, his voice faint in addition to the blood rushing in Jimin’s ears. “I didn’t realize how much I love you until you left too.”

“But what about Jungkook?” Jimin asks hollowly as he hears his own question echoing in his ears. His brain can’t form a single comprehensive thought, not since Taehyung stepped into Seokjin’s apartment a little over twenty minutes ago. “I thought you loved him.”

“I do love him,” Taehyung says and this time he’s not looking down at the floor, he’s staring straight into Jimin’s eyes, “but not the same way I love you.”

He swallows, adam’s apple bobbing up, and it’s hard to force the nothingness to go past his throat. “And what way is that?” And his mind is still a million miles away and his head is spinning, spinning, and spinning. (Nineteen years, one hundred nine days, thirteen hours, thirty-eight minutes, and fifty-six seconds). Jimin wipes his palms on his sweats and clenches his fist.

Taehyung gets up and begins to shuffle across the floor, so the two of them are face to face and their knees are touching. He can see the tremor as Taehyung puts his hands around his face and he can feel his breath as well. Jimin stares at him with open eyes before Taehyung leans in.

He feels dizzy (dizzy, dizzy, dizzy) and he can hardly remember to breathe when Taehyung presses his lips to his (one, two, three, fifty-eight seconds and counting) and they’re both staring straight at one another. Taehyung pulls back and he sits on his feet and Jimin’s heart is pounding harder than it ever has before.

“You, Taehyung, I,” Jimin shakes his head as he presses his palm against his temple. His head is throbbing and the thoughts have all flown back into this mind, scattered and confused and his chest is rising and falling too quickly. His eyes sting when he blinks. “You can’t just do something like that.”

Jimin’s lips feel numb from where Taehyung’s was resting not even a minute ago and he looks at Taehyung who’s back to drilling holes into the floor. “I’m sorry Jimin-ah,” Taehyung professes to the ugly carpet. “I love Jungkook, I love him a lot and he’s my soulmate but I didn’t realize I didn’t love him the same way I loved you until you left. I love you, Jimin.

“You can’t just pick someone me as your backup when it doesn’t work out,” Jimin laughs and it hurts his ears as his heart races at speeds he never knew were possible. “I’m not here as a second choice.”

“Jimin, I’m sorry,” Taehyung’s back goes rigid as he apologizes. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize this until it was too late, I’m sorry that I didn’t know that you were hurting all this time and I was the cause of it. I’m sorry Jimin, I’m sorry.” There’s an edge to desperation to his voice and Jimin wishes Namjoon were here, because his heart says one thing but his brain says another.

“I don’t know,” Jimin says and his heart is beating too loudly for him to think properly. “I don’t know, what if you decide that you love Jungkook again?” Jimin presses forward and he can hardly keep his eyes open, his vision is blurring too fast. “What am I supposed to do if I get hurt again?”

Taehyung leans over to interlace their hands and Jimin still can’t get used to the circles underneath his eyes. “Just because the stars said that we weren’t meant to be together doesn’t mean we can’t.” Taehyung places his other hand around Jimin’s, so Jimin’s sweaty palm is encompassed in both of his. “Can we at least try, please?”

“I don’t think I can handle a second time,” Jimin whispers as he moves so his head is leaning against Taehyung’s shoulder, a familiar position. His heart is beating faintly and by this point Taehyung can surely hear it in the otherwise silent apartment. “I’m sorry,” he whispers as the tears begin to flow and he buries his head into Taehyung’s shoulder.

“How many times have I told you, you have nothing to be sorry for Jiminie.” Taehyung’s grip on his hand tightens and he wraps his other arm around Jimin so he’s whispering into his hair. Jimin lets out a sob into Taehyung’s chest and he can feel wet drops falling onto his face that aren’t from him. “It won’t happen a second time, I promise.”

“You promise you won’t forget me this time?” Jimin asks as his heart thrums and he looks up at Taehyung nervously. His face feels disgusting like he hasn’t showered in days and his eyes are red and puffy but so are Taehyung’s. “Promise me?”

Taehyung cradles the back of his head and Jimin can feel his heart beating wildly against his. “I promise.” He says and the tears are still flowing out of their eyes. “I’ll never forget you, not ever.” And Jimin thinks that maybe, just maybe he can.

The two of them stay like that (nineteen years, one hundred and nine days, fourteen hours, six minutes, and twenty-four seconds) wrapped up in each other’s embrace. Taehyung squeezes his hand and Jimin’s heart squeezes back in response.