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No one was ever surprised whenever Jimin asked for little kisses from Jungkook. It was known to the fans and the world that he loved him the most, and showed it off on most of their broadcasts.
It wasn’t like he requested for any on the lips, even though secretly, he wouldn’t have minded.
But it was strange. Lately, the more he asked, the more hurtful Jungkook’s rejection became. It had been playful at first, part of the comical dynamic they portrayed for fan service. Maybe it was just him, but the smirks, the eye-rolling, and the shoving away started to feel much like daggers to his heart.
“Ah, my Jungkookie,” Jimin cooed as he sauntered into the hotel room the two of them were supposed to be sharing.
Jungkook was sitting on the edge of his bed, his thumbs moving furiously on a game playing on his phone.
“Hm?” he answered distractedly, and promptly lost whatever round he was on. “Damn it. Thanks a lot, hyung.”
“That’s all you,” Jimin chuckled, setting his bag down on the empty bed. He sank down next to him and slipped his arm around his shoulder. “Consolation kiss?”
A test, Jimin told himself, because maybe it really was just him; maybe there was nothing to feel about rejected kiss requests, and that Jimin wasn’t actually in love with the maknae.
But then Jungkook smiled in that nose-crinkling way that Jimin thought was the cutest thing he has ever seen.
“Gross. You’re too much,” he laughed, leaning away from Jimin before standing up.
Ah, Jimin thought in response, watching Jungkook’s back as he headed to the door, his body aching from his stomach to his throat. It still hurts.
“I’m getting something to eat with Jin-hyung and Taehyung-hyung,” his dongsaeng called behind him. “Want anything?”
Not anymore, Jimin answered silently. “I’m fine,” he replied, trying not to sound as sullen as he felt. “Have fun.”
He couldn’t look at Jungkook in the eye when the other turned back to smile in parting. Glancing at him hurt, too.
After the door shut, Jimin sat in lonesome silence for a few moments before getting his own phone out.
He wanted to find out what the drinking age in this country was.
Jimin woke up to aggressive nudging against his shoulder and bright, bright light blinding him even through closed eyelids.
“Hyung.”
Jimin groaned, the voice pounding into his head like a cannon. He buried his face into the mattress. He made to cover his head with the pillow, but it was snatched away.
“Hyung, get up. We have practice today.”
“No,” he grunted in response.
“I wish you had say in the matter,” the voice said with a humorless chuckle. “But we’ll be late if you stay in bed any longer.”
When Jimin refused to move, he felt himself being pulled into to a sitting position. Seeing that there was no way around this, he dared himself to open one eye, and then the other.
He had no contacts on, so everything around him was a little blurry, but he could clearly make out the concerned figure standing over him.
“Jungkook-ah?”
Jungkook, already dressed and ready to leave, sat down on the edge of the bed across from Jimin’s, thankfully blocking out the irritating sunlight pouring through the window.
Jimin then noticed that there was a bowl of fruit on the side table between the beds. Jungkook picked it up and plucked out a piece of honeydew with his fingers.
“You got drunk last night,” Jungkook told him. Jimin was sure he meant for it to be a question, but it was pretty obvious.
He tried to feed Jimin the fruit, but Jimin could feel all of the feelings rush back over him, as crushing as they had been the day before, as painful as every time before that.
I must be overreacting, he tried to convince himself. Kookie thought I was joking around.
Maybe Jungkook wasn’t that intuitive; that he couldn’t see the way Jimin lit up when he was around.
But I’ve pined for too long, he thought, a realization that came to him the night before, when he was intoxicated with soju and feelings–a bad mix, but he got through the night thanks to that numbing blur. Thinking about everything hadn’t seemed as bad.
Jimin turned his head away. “Yeah, I drank,” he answered curtly.
“Why?” Jungkook asked, exasperated. “You know we have practice all day today. The concert is tomorrow.”
“I know,” Jimin replied, avoiding his question. “I’m sorry.” He stood up from bed, ignoring Jungkook’s second attempt at giving him food.
Suddenly, there was a hard knock at the door.
“Hey, why are you guys taking so long?!” yelled Hoseok’s voice. “We have to be downstairs in fifteen minutes!”
Jimin went to open the door, revealing Hoseok and Yoongi.
“You look really bad,” Yoongi observed with a tsk, and looked past Jimin’s shoulder at Jungkook. “I thought you got him fruit.”
“I did, but he won’t–”
“Aish, give me that,” Hoseok sighed, pushing past Jimin into the room. Jimin and Yoongi watched as Hoseok swiped the bowl out of Jungkook’s hand and moved back to Jimin.
“Say ahh,” his hyung said merrily, the same piece of honeydew in his hand.
He was making such a goofy motherly expression that Jimin couldn’t help but laugh a little, earning Hoseok enough mouth room to shove the fruit into it.
Jimin chewed, savoring what sweet hydration felt like. He let out a small grunt of contentment. It really hit the spot.
Hoseok laughed at him and handed him the bowl. “Hurry up and get ready. The rest of us will be downstairs.”
Jimin nodded as Yoongi exited, with Hoseok following and dragging the maknae with him, who, interestingly, stared bitterly at the back of his head on the way out.
But Jimin did not leave himself room to wonder what it meant.
With the group’s schedules as hectic as ever, Jimin and the rest of Bangtan found themselves back in Seoul the morning after the concert, which went by without event from Jungkook, thankfully. Jimin made sure to stay out of the hotel room they shared their last night until he was sure Jungkook was asleep before sneaking in. He was also glad that he wasn’t the one sitting next to him on the plane.
Currently, there were only a few hours of rest before the boys had to get ready for a radio show interview. Jimin buried himself in his dorm roommates’ company and hoped neither of them let Jungkook penetrate the defenses.
I have to move on. I have to stay away. I have to flush out these feelings.
But it didn’t mean he didn’t notice Jungkook staring during the broadcast. He was awfully talented at boring his eyes into him; waiting and wondering. Jimin did his best to ignore him and concentrate on Hoseok and Taehyung seated on either side of him.
“Jimin-ssi, the maknae lover!” the radio show host announced cheerfully. “Do you still love Jungkook-sshi that much?”
Jimin couldn’t help glancing across from him, at Jungkook looking back with an expectant gaze. Pain resounded in his chest.
“Jimin-ssi?”
Next to him, Hoseok squeezed his knee reassuringly under the table. It was uncanny how intuitive his hyung was when it came to his feelings. Jimin wished there was something heart-stirring about the gesture, that he could feel for Hoseok the same way he felt for Jungkook, but deep in his soul, and quite regretfully, it was just not possible.
It wasn’t how love worked.
“He’s the maknae,” Jimin forced out, smiling wide enough for the host to believe him. “That’s all. There’s nothing else to it.”
“If Taehyungie was the maknae instead, would you be the same way with him?” Yoongi couldn’t help asking, raising a brow with a bit of disbelief.
“You bet I would,” Jimin declared, and shielded himself from a playfully disgusted Taehyung shoving him in the side.
And Jimin almost–almost–missed the hurt that fleeted across Jungkook’s large, soulful eyes.
Good, a vengeful part of him thought, but immediately regretted it. Because he was still hopelessly in love.
It was late afternoon in the dormitory. Jimin thought the maknae would be too busy doing errands at the company building to be around, but to his unpleasant surprise, he was home instead.
“Hyung.”
Jimin sank further in his seat on the couch. He pretended not to hear him through his earphones and continued to scroll listlessly through his phone even though he wasn’t paying attention to what was on the screen.
Suddenly, he felt Jungkook pull one of the earbuds out. Jimin jumped a little, having expected to be left alone, and looked up to see the maknae standing over him, wearing athletic shorts and a tank top.
Jimin tried not to let even that affect him, but not only was he swayed by Jungkook emotionally, but physically, too. Try as he might, he could not help drinking in the sight of smooth, bare skin, of well-defined arm muscles, or of the healthy, figure of strength. Jungkook was made to be held and held by.
But probably not with me.
“What’s up?” Jimin asked quietly, flickering his eyes back to this phone.
“Run with me,” Jungkook requested in a soft, cautious voice. “We… we haven’t spent time together.”
“Ask Jin-hyung.”
“But I want to run with you.”
The plea in his voice ached his heart. Jimin paused the music playing on his phone, for a moment, unable to breathe.
He opened his mouth, ready to tell him that Seokjin would be happy to join him, or that Taehyung would go since he was starting to work out regularly, but he came up empty.
“Please?”
The statement he announced as a joke in interviews in several times past haunted him now, still annoyingly true.
I can’t resist Jungkookie.
“This park is nice, right, Jiminnie-hyung?” Jungkook called out, as the two jogged together along a lush nature trail surrounded by trees, shrubs, and shade.
“Yeah,” Jimin said blandly, staring warily at his dongsaeng’s back.
“I don’t think we’ve run together like this since we trained for the Idol Olympics.”
“Probably.” Jimin huffed out a sigh. Why the hell did Jungkook keep making conversation? They were running. Many of their breaths were already spent on that. Why waste anymore energy?
“Hyung, there’s a cool little hideout nearby,” Jungkook said, turning around to look at Jimin. “Want to stop by and look?”
“Jungkook, don’t run backwards,” Jimin reprimanded him. “You could–”
Too late. The normally reflexive maknae tripped on an embedded stone on the dirt trail and stumbled over his heels, landing hard on his back with a loud oof.
It sounded like it hurt. Jimin wasted no time rushing to Jungkook’s side and leaning over him.
Jungkook groaned softly before locking eyes with Jimin. His eyes were bigger and more arresting than ever. Jimin could feel the painful pull of attraction the longer he stared.
But he reminded himself that it wasn’t important; his dongsaeng could be hurt.
“Are you okay?” Jimin asked, and gasped when Jungkook suddenly grabbed him by the straps of his tank top.
“Hyung?” His voice was small.
The elder panicked, thinking the fall was much harder than either anticipated. He laid a hand gently against Jungkook’s head, while the other cupped his face. “Jungkook-ah, are you in pain? Did you hit your head?”
“No,” Jungkook answered softly, still gazing at him. His teeth slid unsurely over his soft bottom lip.
Then, without warning, he pulled Jimin down and kissed him. It full of heat and the release of pent-up emotions that have frustrated Jimin to no end. They surged and swelled, sweeping them both in passionate waves.
And he just couldn’t stop, even though they were both slick with sweat, dirt and their clothing sticking to their bodies as Jimin flattened his form on top of him; even though they both tasted salt and earth on their lips and skin; even though they were outside, in the open for the entire world to see.
Jungkook snaked his arms tightly around Jimin’s waist before turning him over onto his back. Their lips broke apart in the midst of it, leaving Jimin enough room to speak up.
“Why?” he asked breathlessly, confused.
“I missed you,” was the only explanation Jungkook could tell him, even though he seemed equally puzzled and uncertain, like he just discovered an inkling of something; the edges of knowledge at his fingertips still waiting to be figured out.
But his eyes–Jimin knew them better than Jungkook did.
I’m afraid I’ll lose you, they told him, the dark pools clinging, pulling; begging for clarity. They seemed to get closer and closer, looking larger than the universe–or was Jimin just falling into them like he always did?
“I missed you a lot, hyung.” He seemed surer of himself this time, his voice smoother and a touch louder, but still crestfallen. “I don’t know what I did to make you hate me, but I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”
The words twisted sharp shame into Jimin’s heart.
He saw pain seep into Jungkook’s eyes in the form of brimming tears. One escaped, splattering against the corner of Jimin’s mouth. It burned his skin and everything inside of him.
And Jimin just let go.
Down with his barricade; down with the cool exterior he tried to surround himself with. He could not, for the life of him, fall out of love with Jeon Jungkook; not when the younger was actually trying to fix their relationship, even though he didn’t understand the cause of crack Jimin created.
“Jungkook, I’ve never hated you,” Jimin whispered, catching tears in his hands as they continued to slip from Jungkook’s eyes. “I fell in love with you. I thought it wasn’t going to lead anywhere, so I… tried to stay away.”
The words processed slowly; Jimin could see the way the knowledge unfolded in Jungkook’s eyes. Jimin saw everything through them, even when his dongsaeng was in his most reserved moods.
That kind of love, they seemed to decide. That’s what this is, isn’t it?
Jimin thought he should say more. Maybe Jungkook needed a whole explanation about how Jimin had been acting for the past month.
I lied on the radio broadcast, he was about to admit, but he was sure Jungkook tasted the words on his lips as he pressed them to his again, as he let them slide against Jimin’s, full of hope and apology. Forgiveness, too, because Jimin wasn’t perfect, either.
Jimin expected to feel the ache that came anytime he touched the boy he loved, but none came. He felt a reciprocating, unpracticed love from Jungkook that he never thought would be bigger than his own.
“Jiminnie-hyung,” he panted, finally lifting his head to catch his breath. He looked sheepish. “I–”
“We should go,” Jimin breathed, sitting up. Jungkook moved out of the way to give him room. It was only now he realized that they have been out too long. “We shouldn’t stay on the nature trail at night.”
He started to get up, but Jungkook pressed his hands to Jimin’s knees, stilling him.
“Hyung,” Jungkook said again. He was staring at him with an insecure furrow of his brows. “You have to know that I… I–”
His words faltered when Jimin brought his face closer. But this time, he didn’t push Jimin away or laugh. He stayed put, and maybe even swayed forward a little with anticipation. Like it was the natural thing to do.
A smile spread across Jimin’s face when he kissed Jungkook’s nose.
“I know,” he replied with feather-like ease. “I love you, too.”