Work Text:
Re: 12.05.15
Feeling the brush of something cold against my neck brought out an immediate startle reflex, and I turned to ward off the disturbance with blinking, unseeing eyes.
“Hm? What’s th—?”
“Ah. It’s me, hyung. Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
He was more than halfway in the bed already, and even though I could barely see him in the darkness, something deep within me settled at that voice, at the series of soft, feather-light kisses that were pressed into the skin behind my ear.
“Ggu-ah. What…What’re you doin’?”
“Wanted you,” he muttered, wrapping his arms around my chest from behind. “It’s too cold in my room.”
His legs were weaving their way between my own, his chest and upper torso curving around the shape of my spine, and I pulled at him, greedily, hungrily lifting both his hands up, up, up until I could kiss at his knuckles, rub my face along his palms.
“Mm…You smell like me again, brat…Always using hyung’s soap…”
“You love when I do,” he quipped, smiling through the words.
And he was right, so where was the issue really?
He stretched one arm free from my grasp and pulled at my shoulders until I was rolling with barely a groan of protest onto my other side. Face-to-face, he drew me in still further and closer, making it nearly impossible for much of anything to exist between us.
Just the way we liked.
I let my eyes slip closed again, giggled around the feeling of his hair against the nakedness of my chest, the flurry of open-mouth kisses and nibbles skipping across the breath of my pectorals. Having him like this still felt so new and precious, and I layered on a gentle caress of my own, grazing my lips several times across the warmth of his neck, delighting in the goosebumps that trickled up even as the will to sleep swept back into my consciousness.
His touch was ever soothing, always worshipful, and it lulled me for a while.
Then he paused for a long moment, burying his face and inhaling deeply, once, twice.
My brow pinched a little.
“Ggukie?”
He sniffled wordlessly into my sternum, and I pulled him ever nearer.
“Hey. Talk to me.”
“I…It’s nothing, Min, really.” But his voice was markedly moist. “I just…I had a weird dream is all…”
“A dream?”
He nodded, placed another round of kisses across my chest, and things finally began to click together in my sleep-addled brain.
“I…I don’t really want to talk about it. I don’t remember much anyway except that you were there, and then somehow you…I-I lost you somehow, in the dream, and I just…I woke up and I really just needed to make sure that you were…that you were still…”
“Hey, hey. I’m still here, bun,” I whispered, gentling my fingers through the jet-black of his hair. “I promise. I’m not going anywhere.”
His hair tickled again and again at my skin as he nuzzled his way further into my chest.
“I…I know, hyung…I’m alright now, really. Okay?”
“Okay, baby.”
The dark was a cocoon of sorts around us, a quiet broken only by our breathing and the faint snores slipping every now and then from Hobi-hyung in the next bed over. He wasn’t nearly as bad as Jungkook himself snoring wise, but our maknae hadn’t been sleeping much at all lately.
The nightmares were getting more frequent, with Jungkook seeming to need me so badly afterwards each time—not that I minded.
Sharing space with him had always felt natural, even before we had ventured into becoming us, and I took to my self-appointed role of shepherding his sleep with vigor. Tonight though, I had been too tired to stay up when Tae and Gguk were insisting on one more game, just one more, hyung all afternoon. I went off to bed when Hobi did for once, passing off into my own dreamlands mere seconds after my head hit the pillow.
“Jimin-ah?”
“Hm?” I was still running my fingers through his hair, guiltily dragging the knuckles of my other hand up and down his spine. “What is it?”
“I think…I think I wanna write a song,” he said.
Both my eyebrows shot up in surprise. We had talked about songwriting a few times, even years ago, before debut, and beyond assisting Namjoon or Yoongi-hyung with a line here and there, it had never been one of Jungkook’s stronger aspirations.
His passion was in his voice, in the very act of singing anything at all, not so much telling his own story.
“Really?” I asked. “A song like for an album or something?”
He nodded. “Yeah. I think so? Maybe even a solo…” And he pulled away just slightly so he could lay more on his back. In the faint light coming from the clock on my nightstand, I watched him blink dark, moon eyes up at the ceiling, nibble a bit at his lower lip. “You think the hyungs would be into that?”
Inching forward so my chin could rest on his chest, I gave an encouraging little nod. “Of course, Gguk, but what are you wanting to write about? I mean…What brought this on all of a sudden? I thought you didn’t like writing songs.”
“Well…It’s not my favorite, but…” Pausing, he shook his head. “I don’t know how to explain it, Minie. I just…I’ve never felt like this in my whole life, you know? The way I feel with you. And I want to record this feeling somehow…so that no matter what happens, I won’t forget.”
The sensation was mutual.
I stared at him that night as he drifted back into peaceful slumber and was overwhelmed by it.
This sense of awe and gratitude and delight that the universe had elected to bring us close, to call us into bloom at the same time.
~