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The door closes softly behind Jimin, engulfing him in complete darkness.
It doesn’t matter, though. He knows the way. He slips off his shoes and hangs his long coat. Tip-toeing as to not make any noise, he crosses the long hallway that pours into the living room. Jimin rounds the couch carefully, wondering vaguely if there are more bite marks than the last time he was here. If he might stumble into a squeaky toy on the way and mess up all of his plans.
The bedroom door has been left ajar almost as some kind of invitation. He takes a deep breath before entering to calm his nerves, as if this isn’t the millionth time he’s done the very same thing.
With his fingers curled into an anxious fist, he walks up to the bed and kneels by its side. He can barely make out the silhouette curled up next to him, but his memory serves him well enough.
“Jeongguk-ah,” he calls softly, “are you awake?”
The covers shift. A low hum plays the strings of Jimin’s heart in a familiar tune, and a hand comes up searching for him. Jimin laces their fingers together, the marks of his nails still fresh against his palm.
“Hi, baby.” Jeongguk hums again, pulling Jimin towards him gently. A giggle escapes Jimin’s lips. “I need to shower first. Just wanted to let you know I’m home.”
This time, a disappointed grunt comes from his half-asleep boyfriend, equally endearing. He untangles himself from Jimin’s hold and pats his hand, ushering him to go away. It’s all in good fun; the quicker he leaves, the quicker he’ll return.
With another laugh, Jimin scurries into the bathroom. He doesn’t rush with his shower, relishing on the fact that this is the first night in months they don’t have to hurry and squeeze every second out of the time they have together. Sometimes, it isn’t even enough to linger at the door. To ask for one last kiss. To joke about canceling some of the most important interviews of their careers because they’d rather stay in bed together, unaffected by the world ending outside of the four walls that surround them.
They have a day off tomorrow. And the day after, they’re flying to Japan. It’s under the pretext of work— Jimin will still have to study script after script for his appearances in Japanese TV— but they’re also filming some traveling content together. A small gift for fans before they go. A small gift to each other, too.
Once his hair is almost dry and he’s applied all his skincare products, he slips back into the bedroom and finally, finally , crawls into bed with his lover. Jeongguk hasn’t moved from the spot where he was half an hour ago, but his face is now illuminated by the faint glow of his phone screen. He hates doing this at night, scrolling through social media. It messes with his (already messed-up) sleep, but he’s trying to keep himself awake. Jimin’s chest hurts at the thought.
When Jeongguk feels Jimin curl his arms around his waist, he drops his phone and turns around in his hold. He snuggles impossibly closer, bumping his nose against Jimin’s cheek and inhaling as if he could drink in the entirety of him.
“You smell good,” he mumbles, lips brushing against Jimin’s skin.
“I smell like you.”
“Yeah.” Jeongguk drops a kiss to Jimin’s jaw, and another, and one more, this time closer to his chin. He nibbles at the skin there, pulling a laugh from Jimin. “I could eat you.”
Jimin knows he means it literally. Searching blindly for his face, he takes a gentle hold of Jeongguk’s chin and pushes him away from his flesh. “No biting.”
Jeongguk tries to take a bite of Jimin’s finger, clinking his teeth together. “You’re no fun. How else will I show you I’ve missed you?”
“I can think of many ways that aren’t resorting to cannibalism, darling.”
“Make a list. We’ll do them all.”
Jimin giggles, laughter spilling out of him in bursts. Dating Jeongguk has felt like being in high school since it started, with him just barely graduated. Today, still, the joy remains, despite the numbers in their ages becoming progressively scarier. Despite the commitment to their country looming over their heads, something so far from the innocence of young love. Despite. Despite .
What a relief they have each other.
“Tomorrow,” Jimin says, running a hand down Jeongguk’s shockingly short hair. It used to be so long, a head full of beautiful locks that fell down like dominoes and curled at the edges. Perfect to braid, to caress, to pull on. “You need to sleep now.”
“But you just got here.” Jimin can’t see him anymore, but he knows that tone and the pouty lips often attached to. “You know how long it’s been since we last talked like this?”
He knows; of course he does. They haven’t done anything but have sex and fall asleep from exhaustion immediately after since September, when they spent a couple days in Busan for Chuseok. The other times they’ve seen each other since then felt like they were under a countdown, a challenge to make the most out of it. Jimin misses touring with the band the most during times like these, when rare was the day the two of them would be found separated. He remembers complaining to the staff that filmed their documentaries that he listened to Jeongguk sing at least eight hours a day.
Truly, one doesn’t know what he has until he loses it.
He also misses the group, but it’s not the right time to think about the seven of them. He should probably check up on Hoseok, but he’ll do it tomorrow. Everything can wait, at least for a couple hours.
“You’ll be seeing plenty of me tomorrow, baby. And the day after. And the day after that.”
“And every day for eighteen months,” Jeongguk whispers.
Jimin lets out a shaky exhale. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s not—”
“Of course,” Jeongguk rushes to say. He pulls Jimin a little closer, and they rearrange their position until Jimin can comfortably lay his head on top of Jeongguk’s chest. “We have Tokyo to look forward to before any of that. Have you thought about where you want to go after we land?”
Jimin waits a moment to reply, letting his body be pulled up and down to the rhythm of Jeongguk’s breaths. His heart beats against his ear, pulse steady and relaxed. He forces himself to match it.
“I know we said Harajuku for old times’ sake, but I was thinking Ginza would be nice. There’s a yakiniku restaurant I thought you might like.”
Jeongguk hums, tracing a line down Jimin’s back with his fingertip. “We could get a reservation. Or… we could sneak into one of those terrible fast food chains you like and eat 500 yen gyudon.”
Jimin perks up. “We could eat CoCo curry.”
Jeongguk chuckles, and Jimin moves his hand up to his face to check if he’s scrunching his nose. Jeongguk swats it away. “You don’t like Japanese curry?”
“It’s not my favorite.” He drops a kiss to the crown of Jimin’s head. “But we can go wherever hyung wants.”
“How come I’m just learning this now?”
“I’m full of surprises.”
Jimin slaps Jeongguk’s chest softly, pulling laughter out of him as if he’d press a red button. It brings a lovesick grin to his face. “You’re the opposite of mysterious, Jeon Jeongguk. I’m just shocked it didn’t come up earlier.”
“I think you might just know me too well, hyung.”
Jimin tangles their legs together, and lets the warmth that radiates from his lover’s body pull them both into slumber.
“I think so too, baby,” he mutters. Jeongguk hums in acknowledgement, squeezing Jimin a little closer for the last time. Warmth spreads through Jimin’s chest.
He does, doesn’t he?
This is why they’re here. Why he doesn’t stumble in the dark of Jeongguk’s apartment, and instead knows whether he’s asleep or awake by the beat of his breathing. Why it’s always him, waiting at the end of the line. There’s no one he’d rather do this with, bracing for the cold winter that awaits them.
What a relief they have each other.
No matter how painful the separation is, Jimin knows he’ll always be coming home to sweet humming in the kitchen, and a home amidst the apocalypse.