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With the leaves beginning to brown, and the harsh temperature subsiding, summer bides its goodbyes to give way to autumn. Most people welcome the change, embracing the gentle autumn breeze over the scalding heat, but to Jungkook, it beckons the end of his vacation, as well as his freedom.
This particular summer vacation, though, has been a little different and more special than his previous ones.
The reason for it was none other than a second-hand camcorder his parents picked up for him at a thrift store. Sure, might have been slightly bruised with its smattering of scratches, but when they handed it over to him on the first day of his vacation, Jungkook saw beyond all those flaws. What he saw was a culmination of months of begging, the manifestation of his wildest dreams.
Tears were shed, promises were made to film every moment of his summer — and broken almost immediately as he spent the next few days lounging in his parents’ room with the air-conditioning at full blast.
Nevertheless, even if he didn’t manage to catch every moment, he did wind up with some footage.
That's what leads him to Jimin’s room, where he’s hunkered down on the floor, and carefully rewinding his VHS tape with a pencil stuck through a spool.
It’s the only place on earth where he feels safe enough to watch back whatever he managed to record — it isn’t like he has anything incriminating on it, but Jungkook thinks of filming as something akin to writing in a journal. There’s not many people he wants to share that with, not even his parents.
Besides, he credits Jimin as the only reason why he has anything at all, since he was the one to drag Jungkook out from his air-conditioned heaven. It seems right that he should be the first person to watch it.
“Are you finished yet?” Jimin grumbles from his spot on the bed, where he’s lounging with one of his fashion magazines. “I feel like I’ve been waiting since forever.”
A final turn of the pencil, then a flip to check the state of the spools. One is fully wrapped in Mylar tape, and the other is bare. “Done!”
“About time!” Discarding his magazine, Jimin straightens up while Jungkook slides the tape into the player under the television, then hits play. As the screen flickers to life, he joins Jimin on the bed. Jungkook leans on him with his full weight, heart lifting as Jimin slides an arm around his waist, like this is exactly where it belongs.
The television clears up to show Jimin sitting on a bed. Unlike his off-screen counterpart, this bed belongs to Jungkook’s room.
“Is it recording?” Television Jimin asks, squinting at the camera.
The answer from the opposite side of the lens is aggressively loud, and very embarrassing to hear. “It is! Oh my god, this is so cool, I can see you on this little screen and in front of me!”
“That’s a relief. See, you were just worrying over nothing this whole time.”
“Why would anyone sell off a perfectly good camera, though? Isn’t that suspicious?”
“Good point.” Jimin frowns, but his forehead clears up almost immediately. “But who cares, it works! Finally, less complaining, and more filming. Win-win for both of us.”
“I can’t believe it — this is gonna be the best summer ever. Wait, let me try and turn this off, I think you do something like this—” And the screen goes black.
It stays dark for a short moment, and Jimin leans over to hiss, “You said you were going to tape over that part!”
“Sorry!” Jungkook replies back. “Must’ve rewinded it the wrong way.” He absolutely intended to keep that. There was no way he would destroy any footage of Jimin without good reason— especially not one where he looked so cute.
Jungkook’s apology earns him a disapproving shake of Jimin’s head but he doesn’t care, because the next scene starts to play.
Jimin is once again sitting down, but the background has been replaced by a concrete floor. His skin and hair are illuminated by the glaring sunlight, while nibbling on a half-melted ice cream bar, eyes glassy as he zones out.
“Today,” Jungkook breaks the silence with his deadpan narration, “we are gathered here to witness the wild Jimin in his natural habitat.”
Upon hearing his name, the wild Jimin snaps his head up, and screws his eyes up against the sun. “Jungkook-ah, are you filming me?”
Unperturbed, he continues: “The peach ice cream isn’t the best for his diet according to several experts, the leading one being Jimin’s mother. He pays no heed to such criticism, and trudges along his brave path.”
“Jungkook-ah.” The tone and the roll of his eyes suggest annoyance, but the small smile quirking at the corner of his lips says otherwise. “You’re so infuriating sometimes, did you know that?”
“The wild Jimin is not known for being the most patient creature, and prefers to keep to himself.”
“Now, that is not true.” He finishes off the last of his ice cream, and wiggles the bare stick at the camera. “Don’t you know the wild Jimin loves having company, especially that of his sweet Jungkook?”
“Jimin-ah!” There’s a whiny screech to his tone that’s equal parts endearing and annoying. “Stop it!”
“Why? Does the adorable Jungkook not know how to take a compliment?”
Instead of answering, he sputters for a bit, and it only makes Jimin’s smile grow.
“Cute,” he scrunches up his nose. “But seriously, I don’t think your parents spent all this money on this camera for you to do this. What about all the movies you wanted to make?”
“Well,” The camera angle takes a sharp dive as Jungkook plops down. “Back then, they felt like such good ideas, but now that I have the camera in my hands, they all sound so stupid. I didn’t want it to just sit around and collect dust…”
“So you chose mock animal documentaries.”
“See, when you put it like that, you make me sound dumb.”
Jimin doesn’t dignify that with an answer, and Jungkook doesn’t blame him for it.
“Okay, fine, it’s dumb. ” He mutters. “Do you have any better ideas of what I could film?”
“I think. Watch this.” Jimin gets to his feet, and walks a few steps backwards, until his full body is in the frame.
Present-Jungkook has seen this happen, so he knows what to anticipate, but the same can’t be said for the one in the past filming this. Which is why when Jimin on television launches himself to the left into a cartwheel, the sound of past-Jungkook’s whooping and screeching fills up the room.
He does one, two, three, four of them, and the camera has to pan over to follow him. Jimin finishes his last cartwheel with a triumphant raise of hands. He has his back to the sun, and the video quality blurs the sunlight around his head like a halo.
Jimin looks stunning, which is nothing out of the ordinary, but Jungkook thinks that in this specific moment, he’s absolutely divine. His posture, the positioning of the sun brings an etherealness to him that elevates his natural beauty.
“How’s that?” Jimin asks.
“Perfect,” is the breathless reply he gets.
Jimin smiles brightly, brighter than the sun behind him, and that scene comes to an end. The next one starts to play immediately — Jungkook must’ve forgotten to wind ahead before recording this part.
Still, he gets whiplash seeing Jimin on the television sitting on the exact same bed they’re on now. His eyebrows are furrowed as he looks down at the magazine he’s gripping with one hand, and a pair of scissors in the other, meticulously cutting out a half-body image of someone from a glossy page.
“So,” Jungkook starts, his voice shaking with barely-concealed glee, “who do we have here today, hm? Let’s take a closer look.” The view zooms into the person in the magazine, and peals of laughter follow. “Oh, do I see Min Yoongi, Korea’s favourite heartthrob?”
“Aish, here you go again.”
“But that’s what the cover says!” Zooming back out, he continues. “You always get so weird whenever I compliment him. What’s your deal?”
“Look…” Jimin mumbles as the scissors curve around the outline of Yoongi’s shoulders, then follow in the straight line down his arm. “I’ll tell you, but swear you won’t judge or show this to anyone else.”
“I swear on us, I won’t.”
“The other day, I was talking to Namjoon about Yoongi and he pointed out something… interesting.” Jimin gulps before confessing. “He said that you kinda look like Yoongi, and I haven’t been able to unsee it. Every time you call him pretty, I make that connection, and I hate it! You’re my best friend, it’s such a weird way to think about you.”
“Is that all?”
He doesn’t answer at first, preferring to keep his head down.
“I don’t think it’s weird to see your friends as being attractive.” Jungkook assures him. “Personally, I find you very pretty.”
Jimin lifts his head up ever-so slightly, so that he’s looking at Jungkook through his bangs. “Yeah, you really cannot show this footage to anyone — especially not this part.”
“What’s wrong with what I said?”
“People might get the wrong idea about us if they see this… they might think we’re in love or something.”
“Oh my god, that’s so stupid! Me? In love with you? Please.” Jungkook snorts.
Jimin’s lips tug into an amused smile. “I know, right? But that’s what they say about us. Namjoon even admitted that he thinks I like Yoongi just because you look like him.”
“So weird.”
“Agreed. But honestly,” Jimin sits back with his knees up, and the magazine propped against his legs as he cuts it, “I didn’t mind it when you called me pretty. It was — nice. You could… do it more often. I wouldn’t hate it.”
“Hah, well, if you want it then I have no problem.” A brief pause before Jungkook adds, “Pretty boy.”
Jimin starts to giggle, and kicks his feet. “I didn’t expect you to do it right now! But — thank you. And please remember, this is between us.”
“Of course, of course.”
“Great! Now, would you mind putting your camera down? I’m almost done cutting out the pictures, and I need your help with my collage.”
“Yeah, sure.” And the scene ends.
Jungkook takes advantage of the short break before the next clip to break away from Jimin and beam at him. “Hey, pretty.”
“Here we go.” Jimin mutters under his breath, but his wane smile betrays his true feelings. He dives in to kiss Jungkook’s cheek, and mumbles, “What would I be with you?”
“Bored.”
Jimin gives a low chuckle, his lips still against Jungkook’s skin. “Yeah, definitely.”
There’s audio playing from the television again, so they pull away, and go back to watching.
Like all the times before, Jimin is in the foreground. This time, he’s sitting on the side of the road, tapping his nails on the concrete in the beat of some song Jungkook barely recognises.
While he tilts his head in the direction of the television to listen better, Jimin cuts in, “Why’re all the clips just me? Are you in love with me or something?”
It takes Jungkook a moment to realise that the Jimin next to him is saying this, not the one on television.
Jungkook whips his head to the side to look at him. “I— what?”
“Yeah, you only seem to film me. What about your family and friends?”
“Just didn’t spend a lot of time with them… that doesn’t mean I’m in love with you.”
“I know, I was just wondering.” He gives Jungkook a reassuring pat on the cheek, the same place where he kissed him not too long ago.
But when Jimin pulls his attention away from him, Jungkook feels… empty. His hands fly up to the spot on his cheek where Jimin had touched him twice, and presses his fingertips against them.
Jungkook has been accused of being in love with Jimin many times, and by multiple people— friends and family alike. Their sickly sweet way of talking, the way their fingers always seem to be touching the other’s skin or at least ghosting it… but they’ve always brushed their concerns off without a single thought.
In fact, the video playing on the television right now is proof of that: Jimin has his head propped up on Jungkook’s lap, while Jungkook’s hand skitters over the curve of his collarbones, their soft giggles melding together. They’re just two best friends who happen to be more affectionate than the average, nothing more.
And yet. If that’s really the case, why did it twist his heart to remind Jimin they’re nothing more than friends? Why does Jungkook’s throat feel dry, his skin craving Jimin’s touch once more? Even the framed collage of Yoongi that hangs on the wall behind the television is staring Jungkook down, as if he’s caught on to him.
Averting his gaze, Jungkook shifts to the side so that he’s no longer leaning on Jimin. The idea of being pressed up so close to him was beginning to raise goosebumps on his flesh.
Is it possible everyone else has been right all this while? Is he truly in lo—
No. No, he’s not. It’s just what his past self said: it’s stupid. All this love talk is muddling his mind.
He physically shakes the thoughts away, hard enough that it startles Jimin.
“Hey, is everything alright— oh, when did you move away from me? Come here.”
Jungkook is paralysed with fear as Jimin extends his arm out for him. It would be the perfect spot for Jungkook to rest against, if the sheer thought of it didn’t make his skin warm up, like he’s a shy kid too embarrassed to interact with his crush.
Oh god, he has an honest-to-god crush on Jimin.
“Jungkook-ah, are you okay? You look scared.”
He wants to correct Jimin and tell him that’s not terror on his face, it’s infatuation. But perhaps the difference isn’t obvious. “I’m okay.”
“You don’t wanna sit closer to me?”
“I do, but—” I just realised I’m deeply in love with you, and I might explode into tiny little pieces if I touch you. That’s what he wants to say, but if he does… that’s not something he wants to think about now. Jungkook doesn’t have enough time to make up another reason, so he silently crawls over, and tucks himself under Jimin’s arm, suppressing the shiver that accompanies it.
“See? This feels right.” Jimin nuzzles his nose into Jungkook’s hair, and laughs.
It does, and that’s the problem. Jungkook always took pride over the fact that Jimin never let anyone else be so close to him. Right now, this sense of pride has been overtaken by the sound of blood pumping in his ears.
But dwelling on these emotions does nothing but make him more flustered, so he yanks his full focus to the television. It takes a moment for him to recalibrate, to recognise the scene that’s currently playing.
It’s the one he filmed a couple of days ago on the rooftop of Jimin’s apartment, and the last one as well.
The star-filled sky above makes for a pretty backdrop, but isn’t the best lighting to see Jimin’s face. Him having his face lowered as he plucks the strings of his guitar also doesn’t help.
“Jungkook-ah,” Jimin starts, almost whispering, “do you want to listen to a song I’ve been learning to play?”
“Oh, sure, go ahead. Is it by Yoongi?”
“No, not a Yoongi song. Just one that I’ve been listening to a lot lately. The lyrics… ah, I feel like this was written for me, you know?”
“Really? Well, I’m even more intrigued now.”
His fingers begin to strum a sweet melody. It’s not the most perfect, and there are some awkward screeches when Jimin switches between chords. But the part that makes the Jungkook who’s filming draw a ragged gasp is the fact that Jimin is singing along to it.
Unlike the chords, his voice doesn’t falter for a second. It’s lilting, and spills all over. At the time, Jungkook hadn’t processed a single word, too enraptured by his vocals. But now that it’s his second listen and the initial shock has worn off, he tries to pay attention to the words. It only takes a few lines for the meaning to sink in.
It’s a song about yearning for love.
The melancholy tune screams a deeply personal longing, and curiosity tugs at Jungkook.
“Jimin-ah.” he begins, voice low and raspy. “Who is this song for?”
“What makes you think this was for someone?”
“Because—” it sounds as if every syllable was ripping your soul apart, like a love letter you pour your heart into and never send “—I don’t know, just a feeling.”
“Huh. No, it’s not for anyone in particular.”
That should be the end of it… except Jungkook has known Jimin his entire life. He knows Jimin inside out— Jungkook can trace every freckle on his skin with his eyes closed, has every little mannerism of his committed to memory.
This is a bold-faced lie.
Jungkook doesn’t say anything, just shoots him an accusatory side glance. Jimin sees it, though.
“I’m serious, there’s no one.”
“Definitely not.”
“Jungkook! You’re being so unreasonable right. How does this affect you?”
He chooses his words carefully, so much so that they almost sound rehearsed. “I’m your best friend. I think I have a right to know if you have a crush on someone. Especially if you’re having a hard time confessing to them.”
“Fine, it was Yoongi. That’s why I made that collage of him and hung it up. Does that answer your question?”
No, because he’s still clearly lying. But this is also a losing fight, so Jungkook drops it, and tunes back to the television, where Jimin’s song is tapering off. The singing has ceased, he just plays a couple of drawn-out notes, before coming to a stop.
Lifting his head up, he gives Jungkook a soft smile. “Was that good?”
“You were phenomenal! Quit studying and become an idol, music is clearly your thing.”
“Stop!” But the way he holds back his shy grin says otherwise.
“But, the world needs to know how talented you are!”
“T—thanks. It means a lot coming from you.”
“Of course.”
On the recording Jimin is smiling, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. In fact, the gaze is muddled with unspeakable sorrow. Jungkook can only imagine how deeply Jimin must love this person to look so haunted. Jealousy flares up inside him, ugly and roiling. Guilt immediately follows, but not enough.
He knows he’s being an ass about this, but he can’t help it. The very idea of Jimin sitting next to someone else, holding their hands and laughing at their jokes… that’s Jungkook’s role in his life. No one else is allowed that.
There’s no way he’s letting this go, so he makes one more attempt, “You look awfully sad in the clip, are you sure there’s no one?”
“Yes.” But the answer is feeble, and Jungkook might stand a chance at figuring this out.
“Jimin-ah, I know there’s someone, you can’t hide that from me. I don’t get why you’re hiding it.”
“Because I can never confess.”
Oh. Finally, a crack into his defences. Jungkook doesn’t know if he’s going to like what he hears, but he still pries into it. “Why not? Do you not know them well enough?”
“The opposite, we’re too close.”
“Too close? Please. You cannot be closer to them than you are with me.”
Jungkook means it as a joke, a mockery of his own stupid crush.
Then Jimin’s gaze drops to mirror the one he has on television, and the realisation hits him so hard, it’s like the sky’s just fallen on his head.
“Jimin-ah… was the song for me?”
“I—” He croaks on his words, averts his eyes and Jungkook has his answer.
“I didn’t expect this.” Jungkook muses. “Today’s just been full of plot twists.”
“W—what are you talking about? What plot twists.”
“Look at me and I’ll tell you.”
“No.”
“You really won’t look me in the eyes when I confess my love for you?”
That’s what gets Jimin to snap his gaze back to Jungkook. “I’m sorry, what?”
“You think you’re the only one with a crush on his best friend?”
Jimin gapes at him, sputtering as if he’s a fish out of water.
Eventually, he blurts out, “What?!”
“I know, I was surprised too. But I guess it makes sense why I never left your side the entire vacation… and why you didn’t leave mine either.”
Blush rises to Jimin’s cheeks. “Didn’t even realise I was doing it at first. It only hit me when I was listening to the song I played for you, and your face was the only one that popped up for me.”
“Mine was when you asked if I was in love with you.”
“It took us this long, we’re so dumb.”
“Agreed, but no more dwelling in the past, we’ve done enough of that already. How about we come back to the present, and you give me a kiss?”
“Sure.” As Jungkook lifts himself up to press his lips against Jimin’s, the television fizzles into static, and all he can think of is how this has been a perfect conclusion for a perfect summer.