Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jimin's boss won't get off his fucking back. 

It's the third time he's turned in this report. Third goddamn time. He’s never had this problem before. 

His previous supervisor never had this much feedback on Jimin’s reports. He always told him he did a good job, praised his writing.

But no. To the new boss, Jimin’s reports might as well be pulp science fiction novels. Anything other than a cold hard fact was overly flowery and emotional.

If only she knew the things that crossed Jimin’s mind on the daily. 

He drops himself down on his desk and pulls up the file that boss lady miracled back, corrected. Just eyeing the first couple paragraphs is a massacre, red marker slashed all over the page.

"Jungkook been greatly affected by his recent relocation from Seoul, South Korea to Paris, France. He doesn’t seem inclined to participate in activities of a social nature, instead spending his days going to work and then immediately returning to his apartment, where he lives alone.

This as well seems to be a significant emotional weight to carry-before his relocation he was living with his best friend, Min Yoongi and his cat, in a small but homely apartment in Seoul. It seems the absence of his dear friend as well as the animal he loves has been a difficult adjustment, and he hasn’t yet found the strength to move forward." 

Looking at what remains untouched by her corrections, it just leaves the words relocation, Seoul and Paris.

“Fucking brutal,” he mutters.

“Got your ass handed to you again?” 

Seokjin raises his eyes from his own file on the desk opposite Jimin’s, teasing smile on. He looks every bit an angel, but Jimin knows better. 

“You have no idea.” 

He shows Seokjin the red-marked pages and he whistles. “Man, she really hates you.”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “Just because you’re the favourite,” he mumbles. “I really don’t know how I can do what she’s asking. Really. I know what she’s like by now, and last time I truly tried to keep it neutral, but there’s neutral and then there’s simply not including important information!”

“Tough luck.” 

“I’ve taken out anything that might have an ounce of subjectivity to it, and all I’m left with is essentially His name is Jungkook. He works and then he comes home and goes to sleep, repeat every day except weekends. Is that what she wants?”   

“Well, there’s a minimum word limit, too.”

Jimin groans, banging his head on the desk dramatically. “Now is not the time for your little jokes, Jin.”

“There’s nothing little—” He stops when Jimin turns to him with the world’s most desperate glare. “Okay, okay.” He opens his hand and the file flies over, caught in mid-air. After a short inspection, he hums. “Okay. Brutal.” Jimin groans again, louder this time. “But! But. Still doable. Just read her comments and make an outline. That will help, guaranteed.” 

Jimin doubts it, but he’s out of patience and out of time, ad he’s in no position to be turning down any advice, no matter how obvious. 

A whole eternity and four rewrites later, it clicks. 

“It’s all the same.” 

Seokjin lifts his head from his own papers. Not a hair out of place. “Hm?” 

Jimin looks at him, stunned. “It’s all the same. This is why I’m having trouble. He never does anything.” 

“Harsh.” 

“It’s true! I didn’t notice before. This is why I was trying so hard to embellish, because if I were to leave it to the plain facts, there would be nothing to write!” 

“Okay.” Seokjin shrugs. “So?” 

“This isn’t Jungkook.” 

“Jimin-ah, some people just like their routine.” 

“This isn’t that. Jin, he used to be so much more social, before! Look, he moved recently. South Korea to France. First time he’s away from home, first real job. He’s sinking.” 

“Don’t you think that’s too much of a jump?” 

“He used to go out on average twice a week. He used to get excited about eating out, he used to watch movies with friends at home, he would go to the library all the time.” 

“To study?” 

“If you call plowing through the manga section at light speed studying, then yes.” 

“Maybe he just hasn’t found his feet yet.” 

“It’s been almost six months!” 

“Even so, that’s not your job. Your job is writing a decent report. And it’s an urgent one right now.” He purses his lips. “Water doesn’t get any hotter than where you are right now.”  

Jimin doesn’t need a reminder of that, thank you very much, so he promptly ignores it. “It’s hopeless,” he looks over the reports again, “there’s nothing to write. I have nothing. All he does is sleep and work.” 

“That can’t be all he does. I’m sure you just haven’t been there at the right time. Why don’t you pop down and shadow him properly for a day? That’s bound to get you something to fluff up your report, huh?” 

“You think?” 

Seokjin nods. “What’d she give you, a week?” 

“Two days.” 

Seokjin’s eyes widen. “Damn.”

Shit. “I’m doomed.” 

Seokjin shakes his head. “No, no, no, it’s okay. Observe for a day, take notes, and then day two’s for writing, and bam, report on her desk by morning of day three, nice and dry.”

Sounds so simple when the angel of the month says it. Ugh. 

Jimin really needs to get a move on either way, and starting by a visit sounds the closest to progress he can get. He starts looking inside the filing cabinets, increasingly frantic when he doesn’t see what he’s looking for. 

“I could swear I had some day passes left! Where the h—”

“You didn’t see the memo?” Jimin turns to him with wide eyes. “You need to re-file a special permit. All the previous ones got recalled. Regulation changed.” 

Jimin pales. "Fuck, I didn’t.” He swears again under his breath. “It takes forever to get that shit approved, there's no way—" 

Seokjin sighs, the very picture of a magnanimous saviour, pulling up the appropriate form and his favourite fountain pen. “Jeon, is it?”

Oh, thank fuck. 

Jimin reaches over to squeeze Seokjin's shoulders in thanks. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“Yeah, yeah. Hope this kid’s worth all this trouble.”

      ‧₊˚ ⋅

It’s a Monday when Jimin pops down to earth, just before dawn.

He can feel that Jungkook’s still asleep, so he idles around the apartment. He never had time to properly look around before. He’s only ever popped in for half an hour increments, as per regulation. This is the first time he’s going to stay this long. 

He wanders over to the kitchen, trailing a finger over the counter tops. There’s mugs in the sink, and several bowls stuck haphazardly on top of each other. Opened box of cereal sits next to the drying rack, the bottom of the carton all soggy from where water had trickled to it.

Jimin looks around for a towel, but there are none, and there’s a finished kitchen roll on the microwave but no paper to speak of.

He changes directions, walking to the couch and plopping down on it. “Oh, comfy.” 

He takes a look around. The kitchen’s in the same space and there’s no real dining room, just a table under the window, so this is pretty much the whole apartment.

It’s very…plain.

There’s nothing on the walls at all, which is strange, because Jimin knows Jungkook and Yoongi had various lengthy conversations about how to split their living room posters—the conversation was meticulously jotted down by the previous angel assigned to Jungkook, word by word. Jungkook ended up taking two of them. It was the first thing he unpacked when he arrived here, anxious about them having maybe gotten damaged during the long flights.

Did he put them up in his bedroom? Should Jimin take a note of any of this? 

Probably not. Boss lady will probably say it’s irrelevant again, like always.

He huffs, annoyed at the thought. “I hope you give me something today, Jungkook, because if not…”

As if he’d heard him, there’s a creaking sound and then Jungkook shuffles out of his bedroom, dragging his feet.

Even though he just woke up, he looks demolished with exhaustion. There’s bags under his eyes and he moves in a zombie-like way, lethargic. He heads straight to the couch and Jimin yelps, barely managing to fly out of the way before Jungkook collapses onto the cushions, head burrowing against the backrest.

“Good morning to you,” Jimin mumbles.

Jungkook takes a peek at the clock opposite him on the wall and groans, pressing his head against the couch miserably.

It’s going to be a long day for both of them, it seems.

Jungkook works in a big, luminous office, open plan, with people constantly milling about. Jimin thinks it’s pleasant—nothing like the empty white walls and tiny cubicles of heaven—but Jungkook spends most of his morning growing roots onto his desk chair, eyes resolutely on his own work.

When his colleagues get up to head to lunch at noon on the dot, he stays behind, and then passes the cafeteria altogether when he does decide to go down.

Jimin walks along next to him, curious. “Are you meeting someone for lunch?”

That would be amazing. That would be something factual he can put in his damn report that shows Jungkook's progress. 

Jungkook heads to a little bakery a couple streets away. He painstakingly reads through the sandwich and salad descriptions, and then he gives the man working behind the counter a smile and points to the one he wants, nervously waiting to hand over the money. 

“Always can count on you for exact change, kid,” the man says with a laugh.   Jungkook nods and grabs his receipt with a timid 'merci, au revoir!' and he’s out there before the man has even answered. 

Jimin lingers a little, and the man shakes his head with a small laugh. 

“What was it today?” the girl working the patisserie side of the bakery asks.

“Same as any other Monday,” he says, tucking the money away in the register. “Don’t know why he even bothers to read everything again.”

Jimin slips out and follows Jungkook. He shivers. “Man, this wind.” 

Jungkook gives a decisive turn with a frown and heads back to his office. 

“You don’t like the cafeteria food, is that it?” Jimin asks fruitlessly as he hovers next to him. “Is the food bad on Mondays?”

Jungkook, of course, doesn’t answer. He rushes past the cafeteria, not even looking inside, and heads to the elevator. Their offices are empty, not a single person left. He heads to his desk, sticks on his headphones, and starts to eat his sandwich. 

Jimin perches himself on the desk opposite him. He seems content enough, munching on his sandwich with a neutral expression. He clicks around his computer and puts something on, eyes sticking to it.

Jimin has his leg up on the desk and his head resting on his knee. 

"What, are they all assholes or something?

Exactly thirty seconds before people start coming back in, Jungkook’s cleaned up his desk of all lunch evidence and started on work again.

“You’ve got this all down to a science, haven’t you?”

He sees a couple people looking Jungkook’s way, trying to catch his eye, but he remains lazer focused on his computer screen, and barely moves a muscle until the end of the work day.

It passes torturously slow for Jimin. He shouldn’t stray too far, but Jungkook isn’t doing anything interesting. He’s jumping between emails, documents and presentations, headphones and scowl on. 

People seem to take breaks here and there in that lazy, dead-eyed office way he recognises from his own experience upstairs. They disappear into bathrooms or balconies or kitchens, huddling in little groups and miling the day away with some whispered gossip or exasperated complaining.

Not Jungkook though.

The only time he ever talks to anyone is when his superiors address him, and he responds respectfully and efficiently, ducking his head back to work with a speed that challenges the limits of politeness. 

“Come on,” Jimin mutters, stretching his arms over his head, “give me something.” 

When the day’s done, Jungkook doesn't head home. Instead, he takes the metro for a couple of stops. He walks slowly towards a hole-in-the-wall bar. The owner seems to vaguely recognise him, quickly getting him a pint of beer. Once again, Jungkook has exact change.

"You do this a lot, huh."

He finds a tiny booth in the corner and settles there. He doesn't even take his jacket off, just sits there with his hands around his beer, eyes closed for a long second. The bar is tiny and noisy, people all around Jungkook sitting in groups or pairs.

"I wish you could see me." Jimin pouts. "Then it wouldn't look like you're alone." He stares at Jungkook openly, in the privileged way of angels knowing no one is observing them back. The concealer he'd used has worn out a little at the end of a long day, so the little pimples on his chin are visible. 

Even so, even with the dark circles and the hood on and the hair gone just a bit too long without a proper wash, he looks good. His huge eyes peek out from under his bangs, observing the others silently.

"Pretty boy, aren't you." Jimin cocks his head to the side. "How come it's been so long since you dated someone, then?"

After a long sip of his beer, Jungkook takes his earbuds out along with a small notebook and a black pen. 

Oh," Jimin smiles, "so you haven't given it up completely."

Jungkook raises his eyes and stares directly up at Jimin.

A shiver goes through him, even though the logical part of himself knows Jungkook can't see him right now. He's looking beyond him, to the other patrons of the bar.

The first sketches are warm-up ones, the beer glass, the napkin, Jungkook's bag crumpled on the table. When he’s filled out a page with only that, he starts sketching the people. The pen strokes are slow but confident, like he's taking his time to get things right. Jimin stares, watches lines upon lines become people with life in their posture, gestures, eyes.

"So talented," he murmurs. "Has someone told you lately? I hope so."

He tries to remember the reports of the previous angels that had followed Jungkook. Dry things, in the style of boss lady's department. It seems Min Yoongi is a caring friend, but Jimin hasn't seen them interact since Jungkook became his charge, so he can't know if he does that kind of thing for Jungkook. Human friendships are strange to him sometimes. He recognises echoes of when he must have been one; sometimes things resonate, things he must have felt too, but no real memories linger. It's like it happened to someone else entirely, because it did.

This is why Jimin likes being down here in the flesh, so to speak. Observing from above isn't the same thing as touching the same sticky bar table Jungkook is, or tracing his work commute along with him. How can he truly understand his charge if he doesn't walk along with him for a while?

How can he help him? 

None of your business, come Seokjin's words into his mind again. Jimin huffs. He wishes he could take a sip of Jungkook's beer.

Jungkook closes his little notebook eventually, when his beer has almost been wholly drunk. His cheeks are a little rosy. 

He takes out his phone and starts speaking into it.

"Hey, hyung," he says gently in korean, voice low, eyes darting around like he's checking that he's not disturbing anyone. "Um, just checking in. I'm okay. Work was really, really long today. Still working on that one project I told you about before and I don't really understand why they'd put me in charge since I'm the new guy, but, yeah. I'm just stressing about it, I guess. I don't really want to get out of bed these days," he huffs, sounds like he's hollow all the way through, "um. But don't worry. I'm hanging in there.

Things haven't gotten there yet, just in case you ask. They won't. I'll talk to someone if I feel the urge to again. Um. God, this has been depressing. How's our girl? You haven't sent a picture in so long. You promised you'd send one every day, how am I meant to follow our daughter's life if you won't send me pictures? Is the new catsitter good? Has she gotten her fat? Tell me, tell me." He fidgets in his seat a little, drinks his last sip. "Anyway, that's all from me. Don't worry about listening to these, okay, I'm just kind of talking to myself, here. Guess you won't hear that unless you've already listened to the whole message, but really, for next time. Don't worry about answering immediately or anything. But send pictures! Don't forget. Okay. Bye."

As Jungkook gets up to leave, Jimin's mind is racing. 

What did Jungkook mean, things haven't gotten there yet? Is there something in the previous reports Jimin missed? He read everything from the past three years at least meticulously, what could it have been?

Jungkook's apartment is very close to this bar, turns out, because before Jimin knows it, they're back in the apartment. 

He should go up and dive back into the old reports. Maybe something fell back in the archives and he lost it? Damn heaven and its stupid paper filing system.

Jungkook lets out a sigh as soon as the apartment door closes behind him. He drops his backpack next to the door, along with his coat, and then he starts to fully strip.

"Oh!" Jimin exclaims, out of surprise more than self-consciousness. Humans are a bit prudish about nudity, aren’t they. Jungkook probably wouldn’t want him looking, so he turns around. "Sorry.” 

Jungkook doesn't hear him, so just clad in his boxers he heads on over to the kitchen. When he passes by Jimin, Jimin's eyes widen. 

Little harsh lines are cut through all over Jungkook's thighs and the top of his arms. They're white, scarred over, obviously from a while ago, but Jimin can't help but stare.

"Things haven't gotten there yet," he mumbles to himself.

Oh.

  ‧₊˚ ⋅

"My charge is hurting himself." 

Boss lady takes her eyes off the report he'd submitted, eyebrow raised in condescending expectation. "Where?" 

"Where? Didn't you read—" 

"I read mention of old scars. I read him assuring a friend he would not relapse. So, where?" 

"Well, right, but he's clearly struggling. Clearly. See, in my report I told you all about the dark circles and the sluggish energy." He is vibrating in his seat, holding himself back from leaning over the desk to point out the exact passage. "So the idea of a relapse isn't improbable.  He's always had anxiety, and he's been through something major, probably feeling isolated, lonely—" 

She raises her palm to stop him talking. "Words like 'probably feeling' are of no interest to me. You are supposed to note down facts, which you have admittedly done. Barely. After three reworks. Be happy you finally submitted passable work and focus on catching up on archiving and observation until the next one." 

How can she be talking about performance right now, like a typed statement in already yellowing paper is more important than Jungkook’s life? "Archiving is not the best use of my time, respectfully, especially not when my charge—" 

She twists her head in a way that Jimin would find creepy if there wasn't fire flowing through his veins.  "I'm sure I don't need to remind you why you're on archiving duty, Jimin-ah." 

He scowls. "I just don't think—"

She rolls her eyes. "Seems I do. Go on. Recite it." 

He grits his teeth. She gets off on humiliating him or what? There's urgent things to take care of but he has to sit here and indulge her? 

She looks at him expectantly, sharp. 

He grits his teeth. "Angel 1310, alias Jimin, will be placed on indefinite restricted duty. Angel's field work will be limited to one charge instead of the customary nine, and office duties will be expanded to cover the archiving and file re-organisation needs of the department." 

She tuts when he stops talking. "Go on. All of it." 

"This sentence can only be terminated by the department head when they have deemed Angel 1310 fit for action following strict supervision and ensuring he has severed all links with problematic elements previously belonging to his cohort." 

Jimin wants to wipe that smirk off her face so badly. 

"There you go. I think we all needed that reminder." 

"But—" 

She simply turns her eyes away and waves her hand at him like a dog to be shooed away. "Dismissed." 

He rushes out of the office fucking fuming.

Seokjin winces at him sympathetically. "What? Did she still have comments?" 

"Why do they call us guardian angels?" 

Seokjin blinks. "Technically, that is part of our extended job title, but—" 

"We don't guard, not for shit! We are explicitly forbidden from guarding, in fact!" He's pacing up and down the small office they share, unsettling papers on Seokjin's desk as he goes. "So why the fuck would that be anywhere in our job description?" 

"Jimin-ah, you know our role is more—" 

"Useless." 

"Observational." 

"My charge is going to hurt himself." 

Seokjin thankfully, reacts—just, reacts, which is way more than can be said for their boss. He gets quiet for a second, and then softly asks, “You really think so?”

“He's done it before. He's really low right now, Seokjin, he's alone, he's—" He stops his pacing, shoulders slumping. How can he explain? "I felt it when I was down there. His pain. It's here." He puts an open palm to his chest. "All day. Just a black vice all around him. His whole soul is stained with it. And he just...ignores it and goes on with his day. Imagine how long he's carried it for it to be so normal."

Seokjin looks sympathetic. "I'm sorry. That can't be easy." He shifts a little in his chair. "But Jimin-ah, I know he's your only charge right now, but that doesn't mean your job is any different. We are never to take action." 

"It's been done before." 

"For figures that altered the course of human history. The most exceptional of exceptional. We can't go interfering every time one of our humans is depressed."

Exceptional. What does exceptional even mean? Who gets to define it? Jungkook is Jimin’s only charge, the only person he looks after—isn’t that exceptional? 

"And what happens if he does the worst?" 

Seokjin sighs, a little regretful. Quietly, he repeats, "Interfering in human affairs is forbidden." 

"I can't let it get to that point, Jin.” He's sure of it now, he can't just stay here with his arms crossed. “I'm just asking for his life to be taken seriously." 

"Can't you just ask," he lowers his voice, practically mouthing the word, "Taehyung to do something instead?" 

Jimin shakes his head. "He doesn't even have his powers anymore, he wants nothing to do with angel business. I don’t even know where he is. Plus, I can't risk talking to him right now." There's no two ways about this. "It has to be me. Jungkook is my responsibility.” He's burning with purpose, suddenly. When's the last time they had a conversation this serious? “If I do nothing and he does something fucking irreversible I will march in there and give her a piece of my mind that no one up here will take kindly to, so I'm going to end up down there sooner or later," he says, raising his eyes to Seokjin's, searching for understanding. “I'd rather it be for something I did, instead of sitting around and waiting to say I told you so.”

Seokjin purses his lips, bounces his leg up and down. “I can't condone this.” 

Jimin can't help a small smile. “I'm not asking you to. Just don’t rat me out.”

Seokjin stares, clicking the pen in his hand as he thinks. "When I look away from you," click-click, click-click, "this entire conversation will be purged from my brain, got it?”

“Got it.”

With one last nod that Jimin wants to interpret as encouraging, Seokjin looks away. 

Okay, Jimin thinks, taking a long, deep breath. Time to get to actual fucking work. 

  ‧₊˚ ⋅

Five messages. A total of 9 minutes. A week without a sign of life, let alone a response. 

Jungkook sighs over his phone, uselessly refreshing the chat. He'd kind of hoped hyung might call today, or might take some time to answer at least the last message. 

Even if he doesn't have time to answer, he can text saying that. He can text with just pictures of Nacho. The last update Jungkook had of her was three whole weeks ago. He'd kill for a new video of her knocking something over or meowing in that weird possessed way. 

His actual brother only texts him over practical stuff, like call mom or what's the netflix password or do you know any good barbecue restaurants close to home. Of course Jungkook does. Jungkook knows all of them. He has gone to every single one, with Yoongi-hyung or alone, and tried everything he could try. He has sketchbooks filled with addresses and ideas and quick drawings of it, littered with hyung's comments or funny things he heard the people around say.

The dull pang in his chest is expected. It comes every time he remembers
that project, along with the 'maybe i should keep it going' thought, followed by the 'who are you fucking kidding, you can't even cook dinner for yourself' thought, and 'you left all those sketchbooks back home anyway', and 'do you even remember how to draw', and on and on. 

He sighs. He really hasn't called mom in a while. He should. He should, but the thought of it makes him want to cry. 

His phone alarm goes off, the 'fireworks' label flashing back at him. Oh, right. He groans. Should he even go? It's cold outside. What does it really matter if he does? 

But Camille said it's one of the prettiest things she's ever seen. What if she comes up to him on Monday and excitedly asks him about it and he has to say that actually, he didn't see it, because, what. He couldn't be bothered to put shoes and a jacket on again? 

He just has to go up to the roof, anyway. He can do that much. 

The rooftop door is a little creaky, rusty, and Jungkook worries for a second if it's even safe to be up here—but then the outside air hits his face and it feels good, actually. Wow, it must be stuffy down there in his flat. He should open the windows, let some air in. 

Check the time. Nothing's happening yet for another five minutes, if they're punctual, and it's highly likely they won't be. 

He doesn't want to sit. He's been sitting all day. God, he's so heavy and slow. He's never felt this sluggish in his life, like he’s moving through tar. 

He used to hit the gym multiple times a week! He'd go boxing. On runs. If he tried to run now, he wouldn't make it ten minutes without having to sit down. 

There's a gym not that far from here. He walks past it every time he goes to the supermarket. But the idea of setting it all up...asking, understanding their offers, making a choice—hard, but maybe doable. But then the hell of making an account. God. Stammering what he wants in uneasy french, the guy giving him that confused scowl and correcting him, spelling out his name letter by letter, or worse, his fucking phone number, fumbling his way through it the whole time until he has to ask for a post-it or something or show him on his phone, his ears getting warmer by the second, just why hasn't he just memorised it all yet, it's been half a year—

He shakes his head. Whatever. Whatever. It's fine. He's here to watch the fireworks, not worry about this. 

He approaches the edge slowly. The city of Paris twinkles below him, pretty in a wholly unfamiliar way. 
He looks over the ledge, and the view is dizzying ten floors up. There's a breeze ruffling his hair. It's nothing like home. 

The thought comes unbidden: what would falling feel like? He holds his feet firmly planted, but his mind wanders. Would it be exhilarating? Would it be terrifying?  

Would it be calming, to know there's blackout at the end of it? 

"Oh! I'm sorry!" 

Jungkook startles, turning around jerkily. It's a guy standing there, around Jungkook's age. Even though Jungkook doesn't say anything in acknowledgement, the guy just moves and comes to stand next to him. 

"I didn't realise there was someone up here," the guy says gently. "Am I bothering you if I stay here?" 

Jungkook shakes his head. "It's public." Is that even correct to say in french? Is that how they would say it? He zips himself up all the way to his mouth. Whatever. 

The guy is staring down at the view with a wide smile just as Jungkook had done seconds ago. "Wow. Gorgeous," he mumbles to himself in Korean.

It's like a jolt goes through Jungkook. "You're Korean?" 

The guy turns his smile onto Jungkook, and his eyes on him make Jungkook flush a little. He hadn’t even meant to speak. 

"Oh, you too? I wondered, seeing you, but I didn't know if you spoke the language. How cool! I'm Jimin." 

Instead of leaning in for the cheek kiss Jungkook has come to wholly despise, Jimin just gives Jungkook a little bow of the head, and something in Jungkook stirs.  He does it back. "Nice to meet you." 

No idea what to say after that. 

Jimin doesn't seem bothered by Jungkook's silence. He turns back to the pretty view and takes it in with a sigh. "I knew it would be beautiful."

Jungkook looks at him, trying to remember if he’s seen him before. No, right? He’d remember. He’d for sure remember if he saw another asian person in his building. So far it’s been distinctly french looking people and an american he’s heard talking on the phone in the hallways. 

When Jimin sees him staring, he tilts his head to the side curiously. "What?"

"Do you live in this building?" Truly the most awkward way he could have asked that. Way to go, Jungkook. 

"I do! Just moved in yesterday," Jimin says with a proud nod. "I've spent two full days unpacking. That's why I needed some air. I didn't really feel like going out out, so I came up here." He smiles. "How about you?"

"Me?"

"Also live here, I assume? What floor?" 

"Third.” He clears his throat and says it again, louder. “Third.” 

"I'm on the seventh," Jimin says, even though Jungkook didn't ask. This conversation is sweeping him up and away, and he's helpless not to go along. "View's nice, but nothing like this."

"Uh, yeah," Jungkook says, the height of eloquence. 

"I'm usually a bit scared of heights," Jimin continues. "Ten floors up is no joke. But something told me to try anyway, and now look!" He turns to Jungkook with a smile. "I've met you!"

Jungkook nods, biting his lip. There's something really strange about this guy, the way he came in and broke the bubble of silence Jungkook had been stewing in since he came home from work. 

He seems to be shining all over, brilliant and happy. Jungkook's never felt more plain in comparison to anyone. 

"Although, it won't really be like meeting you until I know your name.”  

"Oh." Right. He didn't tell him his name. "Jungkook."

"Nice to meet you, Jungkook," Jimin says. "Properly, anyway. What are you doing up here?"

“There’s meant to be—” 

An abrupt noise cuts him off, and they both turn to look at the lights all over the sky. “Fireworks tonight,” he finishes, whispering. 

They really look so beautiful. The night sky here is bright, still, what with all the lights always around, but still, the colours bursting to life make something clench inside Jungkook’s stomach.

“Wow,” the guy says again. “How did you know?” 

“A colleague told me,” Jungkook says, “but I can’t remember what she said they were for.”

Jungkook tilts his head back to watch the fireworks. He doesn’t turn to look at Jimin again, even though he feels an unexplainable urge to sneak another look. But it’s not right. It's creepy. They're standing a bit too close together, too, so he takes a little step to the right to maintain the appropriate distance. 

He just stays silent as fireworks explode over the night sky, almost shoulder to shoulder with this stranger. 

It doesn’t feel uncomfortable, at least. They’re co-existing quietly. Jungkook had kind of forgotten what that’s like, and for one loud second he misses Yoongi-hyung terribly. 

Eventually, they stop, and it’s only then that he’s realising he's starting to get cold. His hands are in his pockets but they're still numb, and his ears feel frozen.

He blinks and exhaustion washes all over him, like it had been put on pause for the pretty lights in the sky. His bed is starting to sound like a very good idea right about now, so he turns around and starts heading out already before he remembers politeness. 

"Um, bye," he throws back over his shoulder. He winces at his own awkwardness. 

"Bye!" Drawn in by the cheerful tone in Jimin's voice, Jungkook turns to look, and gets a wave and a goodbye smile. "See you around!" 

Wouldn’t that be something.

  ‧₊˚ ⋅

He knows that logically the elevator always takes the same amount of time to go down three floors, but this past week, it always feels longer. 

Always the same thing, stepping into it with one woman he often meets in the mornings. They come out of their apartments at the same time. Then they go in opposite directions without saying hello. Usually there's one more man with them, who joins on the second floor. He's not here today.

The person Jungkook is looking for is nowhere to be seen. 

The day after they met, he checked the mailboxes on his way down—no new signs added on the seventh floor apartments, no new names that don’t look decidedly, unavoidably french. Jungkook continues to be, for all intents and purposes, the sole Korean in this building.

Every time he's in the lobby for a whole week now,  every time he goes in or out, every time the elevator doors are about to open, he holds his breath a little, but he's always disappointed.

See you around. 

Maybe Jimin works from home. Maybe he never gets out much. Or maybe he works nights, and their schedules are all opposite.

There's no reason to see him again, anyway. Except...

It had felt nice, to speak Korean again. It hadn't even been for that long but it had felt good, how it rolled off his tongue without having to think. Speaking to friends and family wasn't the same; this was real life, not a tiny phone screen.

Plus, two full weeks of silence from Yoongi-hyung except one apologetic text and a single photo of Nacho. 

So yeah, a little sound of home might be nice.  

The way Jimin shined, all smiley and bright might have had something to do with it too, if Jungkook were someone else. If he were a different version of himself, who noticed those things. Who wanted...anything. Anything at all.

The elevator stops on the ground floor, and for a few long seconds before the doors open, Jungkook looks. They open to reveal the empty lobby, and he walks out like he does every morning.

  ‧₊˚ ⋅

Jimin is stressed.

Isn’t that amazing? 

Fucking finally, a sense of purpose. Ah, the delicious tension of having to slide in his tasteless, bland reports to bossy lady and look her in the eye, pretending to be the very picture of the perfect angel, knowing he's about to hurtle down to earth the second the door closes between them. 

He's been by Jungkook's side more than ever. He's got his own little notebook, a spiral thing that fits in his pocket to make notes of any significant change in Jungkook's behaviour since they met. 
What has lingered in him the most is Jungkook' s voice. All gravely and tired, like he hadn't used it all day. His eyes, big and round and sad, looking around like they were searching for something to latch on, something solid.

Jimin could feel that sadness before he took human form; it had called him all the way down, screamed at him…but what scared him the most was seeing Jungkook step so close to the ledge with nothing but curiosity and a strange sense of calm spreading over his heart. 

And maybe Jimin had overreacted, booking it outside the door and switching forms in a split second, but he has no regrets. Better safe than sorry. Better a weird, random fool made of him than Jungkook alone and thinking the unthinkable. 

Jungkook must have thought he was strange, the way he reacted. Probably Jimin had freaked him out with the way he insisted on making conversation. 

Ah, maybe one regret. He shouldn't have said he lives here. Shouldn't have given Jungkook such a concrete piece of information. But how else could he have justified being up on the roof of this random residential building at ten o'clock at night?

He should make sure an apartment does open up on floor seven. Just in case.

Nothing as heavy as that night when they met has come over Jungkook again, so that’s probably a good sign.

In the week since their meeting, Jungkook has followed his routine to a T. There's a little flutter in his chest every time he enters the lobby which wasn't there before, Jimin thinks, but then again he hasn't made the trip with Jungkook all that much. This is why observation is so important. 

Big work week, too. A project he'd been in charge of had its deadline today, and some guy on Jungkook's team—Adrien or something?—had fucked up his bit, so Jungkook had to stay late, late, late. 

It's almost midnight now and he's ping ponging all around his tiny apartment restlessly. The feelings Jimin normally gets are sluggish, trickling in slow, but this a frantic, constant buzz. He eyes the clock wearily, groaning when he notices the time. 

"Have to sleep," Jungkook tells himself, pinching his own cheek in reprimand. "Sleep, one more day of work and Saturday you can sleep in." 

He looks all ruffled and tired. Jimin watches as he heads decisively to the bedroom without closing the door, and clicks the lights off immediately. 

"Ah, Jungkook-ah," he mutters from the couch where he'd perched himself to watch the mad hyperactive dash, "I really hope sleep comes easily." 

But of course it doesn't. Jimin stays in the living room, but he can feel him twisting and turning in there to no end. He tries to focus on writing out his notes properly to distract from the building frustration that's filling up the room, and finally, somewhere around 4am, Jungkook goes to sleep. 

Jimin gets up to stretch, slipping the notebook into his pocket. The kitchen is a mess, cabinets open and dishes in the sink.He can't do much, but he closes the open cabinet doors and lets some water run over the dishes so they soak as Jungkook sleeps. 

Before he goes, he heads to the room, just to check.

Jungkook is lying down all curled into himself, back to wall and pillow in his arms, hugging it tightly. He's fidgeting, even in his sleep. Jimin can feel a restlessness from him; he must be having a difficult dream.

He’s really twitching a lot, looking sweaty too. 

Jimin puts a hand against Jungkook’s forehead to try and understand—and he almost doubles over. He jerks away at the sudden rush of putrid terror that slams into him all at once. What the fuck is Jungkook dreaming about?

Tentatively, he puts his hand against Jungkook's cheek this time. Even prepared for the onslaught of feelings, he gasps a little. “You’re warm...but is it a fever or is it just the dream?” 

Jungkook’s face contorts in what looks like pain and Jimin winces in sympathy. “I wish I could help,” he mutters, hand still on Jungkook’s cheek. 

He shouldn’t be touching him, really, but what’s another rule broken? 

He runs his thumb gently over Jungkook's cheekbone. The little gesture comes so instinctively he doesn't even notice he did it until he feels it: a slow trickle of feeling between him and Jungkook. "What..." He keeps very still, paying close attention. "Oh. Oh!" 

He accidentally..?

He lets out a breathy chuckle, disbelieving.

“I’m not supposed to be able to do that,” he whispers, even though there’s no sense in whispering since Jungkook can’t hear him anyway. "Not allowed. This one is really, really not allowed. If letting you see me was an 8 out of 10 on the unforgivable scale, this one is a clear 20." He kneels by Jungkook’s bed. "I didn't even mean to." 

He brings his other hand to Jungkook's hair and feels himself pulling the tangled thread of anxiety in Jungkook’s soul towards him, bit by bit. He’s weirdly hypnotised by it. He closes his eyes and focuses, notices the way it moves from Jungkook to him, slowly, painstakingly, but undeniably.

“You know angels do this? Take people’s pain away.” He murmurs it like it’s a bedtime story, like Jungkook’s listening and Jimin tries to soothe him. “Through history, we have. And I say fuck that exceptional rule. It makes no sense to me.” It keeps coming and coming, leaving Jungkook and settling all over Jimin instead, and he keeps pulling it steadily. “If I have this power, why should I pick and choose who gets to heal from it? Why should anyone else choose for me?” 

He sighs. “You know, I had a friend. He’a not around anymore, because of this very reason. He went against these stupid rules, and he was banished for it.” God, he misses him. “And you know what I think?” Leans down to whisper straight into Jungkook’s ear:”I think he was right.” 

Who cares if it's a 20. Who cares if it's a hundred. Lines crossed are lines crossed, and that tension comes back, pulling him taut. 

Moments turn into minutes. Eventually, a while later, Jungkook finally sighs softly. He loosens his hold on the pillow a little, burrowing a bit more into the blankets. He's less curled up now, his brow softer, less furrowed.

Jimin should be panicking at his transgression. Should be flooded in regret. 

Instead, there's just a quiet, wondrous sense of pride as he rises and leaves Jungkook to sleep, a little more peacefully than before. 

  ‧₊˚ ⋅

Jimin's notebook is filling up fast.

Jungkook in the mornings: grumpy and slow. Drinks his coffee like it tastes like tar but like it’s going to save his life.

At work: talks to exactly two people, two women who go out of their way to ask him if he’d like a coffee when they go on break. Jungkook doesn’t seem to get it’s their way of asking if he’d like to come with them for a smoke, but he carefully says yes once a day to not seem rude.

After work: goes to one big supermarket on his way back, buys the same things. Stalls and stares at a gym he passes before something in his chest sours and he walks away a little faster. Occasionally, he’ll go to that one bar, take that same pint of beer, sit and draw until he finishes it. 

At home: on his phone on the couch, on his phone on the bed. Kitchen is mostly untouched, save for the weekend where he cooks himself lunch with whatever produce hasn’t gone bad already.

That’s the factual side of things he keeps for his boss. There’s also an unofficial, quite long, non-comprehensive list of things Jimin feels privately or thinks or just finds cute.

Jungkook will talk to himself. He’ll wander around the apartment like he’s narrating his own life sometimes. “Okay, time to shower, here I go…ah, I should really get up now, I’ve been thinking about showering all day, come on…one, two…three! Okay, good, good, bathroom time, oh, do I have clean underwear? When was laundry day…yes, yes, I should. I should do laundry soon. Is the machine still broken? Have to check next time I’m down there. Okay—”

Oh, when he cooks. When he cuts vegetables. 

Jimin had to sit there and watch him apologise to a carrot when the chop sounded too harsh. “Aish, sorry, sorry, that was loud, wasn’t it. Must have hurt. Sorry, sorry, I’ll be gentle…”

“Who even are you,” Jimin mumbled with a smile. 

Jimin’s never witnessed it so far, but he thinks Jungkook is the kind of person who sings under his breath.

That’s him when that dark stain all over his soul is watered down, deep grey instead of void black. Some good things break through then.

But that’s not always. Not even often. 

Most days are like today, a palpable cloud of frustration all around him, even if it’s only 6:30 AM. It’s practically choking Jimin. How can Jungkook bear the full brunt of it?

It gets worse when the phone rings.

The vibration sounds like scraping. Jungkook winces immediately. 

He's on his computer on the other side of the apartment, half buried under a blanket on the couch. It’s his morning routine these days: drag himself out of bed about an hour and a half before he has to leave just to drink his coffee and mindlessly watch something.

Today, it’s videos of the same man, some youtuber, playing since the moment Jungkook woke up and shut off his alarm ten minutes ago.

Phone's still ringing. Jimin doesn’t have to check to know who it is. Jungkook’s mother has called 3 times in so many days. 

"Come on, answer her," Jimin says, perched on the armchair next to the couch. "I know you can hear it, answer her."

Jungkook is determinedly ignoring the sound, eyes focused on the screen, waiting it out. Eventually, the vibrating stops. 

Jimin sighs. "You'll feel even worse later, you know that." He lands softly on the floor and hovers over Jungkook’s lying form.

He usually doesn't get this close, but the anxious energy rolling off Jungkook in waves just got even worse. He's completely immobile, but there's a storm brewing in his chest, and so therefore, in Jimin's too.

Jimin puts one hand on the back of the couch and the other of the arm, leaning over him. "You're not even watching this." He crouches down, looking up at Jungkook. He's got his head on his palm and his eyes are glazed over, staring at a point on the screen but clearly not processing anything at all. "What are you thinking about?" Jimin frowns. "Whatever it is, it's not good, is it?"

The phone starts vibrating again. They both jerk their heads to look at it.

"Come on," Jimin mutters encouragingly. Get it this time. 

Jungkook gets up, takes the phone in hand. His finger hovers over the button, feelings flickering brightly for a second, and then he presses accept call.

"Hey mom," he says. He's trying to make his voice sound cheerful, but his shuffle as he walks around is tired. 

He puts some water in the kettle as he listens to his mom talk. "Yeah, sorry, I was sleeping. It’s not even 7am here right now. Well, yeah, work, but—mm. Yeah, no, work's good. I've done a bit of overtime lately, but—" He frowns. "I know. Yeah, I know, it wasn't a complaint, I was just saying. I'm not getting mad, you're the one who raised your voice first—no, it's—no, it's good. Yes, the food's fine."

He makes an anxious little cup of coffee as Jimin wrings his fingers together, watching.

"I miss you too, mom." This time his voice is soft and honest.

He sighs. "I don't know when. I don't exactly feel great about asking for time off already."

He stirs milk into his tea as she talks and talks. "I'll see. I'll see, okay?" A pause. "I know. Talk soon, yeah. Love you. Bye, yeah, bye." 

There's tears in his eyes before he even sets the phone down on the counter. Jimin wants to rush to him, the feeling in his chest growing and souring, turning an ugly, horrible colour.

He's angry. He's sad. He's missing his family, and he's going to—

"Shit," Jungkook mutters. 

Burn his tongue on the coffee. 

A sniff comes from Jungkook. A hiccup, his shoulders hunching. By the time Jimin flies next to him, his face is already red from crying. 

Even alone, he’s trying to hold it back. He’s got his hand against his mouth like he’s trying to choke his sobs back, catching all the hitched breaths.

The sadness in Jimin’s own chest mixed with Jungkook’s desperate grief, and tears slide down his own face quietly.

“Oh, Jungkook-ah.” 

It would be so much easier if he could read Jungkook’s thoughts. Relying on reading his emotions, his human, messy, loud emotions is really, really fucking difficult. And they are oh so loud and messy right now. It’s getting hard for Jimin to breathe.

“How do you do this? I wish I could just…”

And actually…why not?

It worked the other night. Jungkook was just as distressed then, and Jimin took some of it away. It had taken hours to work it off, irritability crawling all over him, but he'd done it, and no one had been the wiser. His boss seems to forget he exists entirely as soon as he deposits the reports on time, which suits him perfectly.

If it worked once, it can work again, right?

He tentatively reaches out and puts a palm on Jungkook's cheek. There’s just enough time for Jimin to feel the rush of emotions slam into him before Jungkook blinks, wet eyelashes fluttering quickly, like he's waking himself up.

“Fuck.” Jimin pulls away like he's been burned.

Shit. He shouldn't have done that while Jungkook is awake. Too obvious.

He flies up and away from Jungkook, watching as he wipes his tears on his sleeve, the big wave suppressed for the moment. He stares at him from his spot in the corner as he heads to the room to dress up, coming back to chug the now lukewarm coffee before leaving the house with a tired sigh.

Useless angel.

  ‧₊˚ ⋅

"Jungkook, why don't you come join us?" 

Camille smiles at him brightly, waiting for him as the others rush towards the corridors. Friday night is drinks night for anyone who wants to join. 

For Jungkook though, it's laundry night. Plus, he's been trying to outrun a headache all day, so. "Ah, no thank you." 

She tilts her head to the side. "You sure? It's been a long week, a drink might do you good!"

A drink might, but socialising with a bunch of people he barely knows at all in fucking French sounds like the least appealing thing in the world right now. 

His brain is fried. He thinks of drinks after work with Yoongi-hyung, back home. How he'd put his hand on Jungkook's shoulder, and Jungkook would know it for the invitation it was, every time. They'd get tipsy off two drinks, exhausted and running on an empty stomach, and then Jungkook would complain and Yoongi would buy dinner and in between all this they'd laugh and talk and feel the tension ebb away slowly, and Jungkook would go to bed easily that night.

He feels pressure in his chest, eyes stinging. Shit, god. 

"I'm very tired," he tells Camille with a smile, struggling to keep a hold of even basic french. It feels like the pronounciation's running away from him, words that would flow off his tongue effortlessly on a Tuesday morning getting eaten up at the end of a long fucking week, and god, what must he sound like to this person? "Please enjoy. Tell everyone a happy weekend from me, okay?" 

She shrugs and shoots off a see you monday! before running after the others. 

Jungkook doubts he's going to get another invitation. She lasted a while longer than the others. Jungkook will give her that. 

As if on autopilot, he makes his way to the metro station. He waits for it to come and slips his headphones on in preparation for the loud crowds, already on their way to getting drunk somewhere. His mom's voice from this morning lingers in his ears, so he turns the volume way up. 

He's home soon, and once again, there's no one in the lobby or in the elevator.

He drops his stuff, changes into his house clothes, stuff all his clothes from today in the washing bag and starts heading down. 

He didn't give himself time to dawdle; he knows how this goes. If he'd sat down for a second, he'd have sunk into his bed, and laundry would never get done.

He opens the door of the laundry room and startles.

It's—

"Oh," Jimin says, as he turns with a smile. "Jungkook."

"Yes," Jungkook says in english, then shakes himself. He switches to korean. "I mean, yes. That's well remembered." 

"Not every day I meet a Jungkook." 

It seems like he's always smiling, radiating this sense of calm that feels like warmth. Jungkook clears his throat. "I bet." He checks the machine behind Jimin, churning away loudly. "Did you just put that in?" 

"Yes. Sorry, is it an emergency?" 

A laundry emergency? How embarrassing. Jungkook flushes. "Not—not really." 

"I mean, if you're doing laundry on Friday night..." 

"There's usually no one here on Friday nights," he rushes to defend himself, "so I don't have to wait." He walks toward the only unoccupied machine and fiddles with it.  "Shit. Still broken." 

Jimin approaches, their shoulders brushing. "Has it been that way for long?" 

"Since I moved here. Four machines for ten floors isn't exactly efficient." 

Jimin winces. He nudges Jungkook lightly with his elbow. "Sorry I stole your spot." 

"No, it's..." He scowls. It's not fine. If he goes back up, there's no way he's coming back down here again later. And actually, it is a bit of an emergency. He's got two pairs of underwear left, and not the good ones. "It's fine. I'll just wait until it's done." 

"I'll wait with you, then," Jimin says with a bright smile. He jumps back onto the broken machine, legs swinging. "Good chance to get to know my neighbour." 

Jungkook drops his bag onto the floor. There's no chairs in this room, just the machines—and they're all being used right now. Jimin scoots over, pats the spot next to him. "We can squeeze." 

So they squeeze. Jungkook feels so fucking tense that if he were in Jimin's place he'd be offended, but Jimin seems happy enough. 

"So, what's the news from the third floor?" 

Jungkook shrugs. "Still between the first and second." 

Jimin laughs—it's a little burst of joy, like the joke—the subpar, lame-ass joke—was totally unexpected and the most delightful thing he's ever heard. He leans into Jungkook a little. "You're funny." 

Jungkook shifts. It's been a long time since someone found anything he's said funny. Been about six months since he's even cracked a joke, he's pretty sure. French makes a meek, unsure little boy out of him, muttering everything. Not even confident enough to make a little joke. 

But he used to be funny. In korean he was. 

He clears his throat. "Thanks." He wracks his brain for something to say back. "It's Friday night. Don't you have plans?" 

He hears himself say it and then wants to punch his own stupid mouth. Why is Jimin still here? "I meant—just, um, like you said, people don't normally do laundry on friday nights. They do...bars. And movies. And dates." 

Jimin chuckles again, leaning back onto his hands. The machine rocks a little. "Well, I didn't have any proposals to do any of that, but you know what I did have? A pile of dirty socks and no pants." He nudges Jungkook again. "So it seems I had a date with the washing machine." 

"And how's it going so far?" 

"Mm... Well, she really took things well in the beginning, but then I ended up pushing a few too many of her buttons, so now I'm not sure." He giggles at his own joke. "And then we were interrupted by this guy, talking about how I stole her from him...so. Maybe there's no second date." 

He looks at Jungkook like he's waiting for a reaction, and when all he gets back is a disbelieving huff, he explodes into giggles again. Jungkook can't help a little smile at the sound—it's cute. 

Aw, and so is Jimin swinging his legs like that. Jungkook huffs. 

"What?" 

"Nothing, sorry."

Jimin nudges him with his elbow again. "Something, though. Come on, Jungkook-ssi. Don't lie to me so early into our friendship."
 
"It's just...your feet aren't touching the floor." 

Jimin blinks. "Yours barely do!"

"Yeah, but I'm sitting all the way back, see?" He scoots forwards until his butt is at the edge, and his feet touch the ground, easy. "Can you do that?"

Jimin crosses his arms over his chest. "Should have never insisted."

Jungkook's got his hands gripping the side of the machine, brushing against Jimin's thigh. Is that okay? It doesn't seem to bother Jimin, but you never know. He tries to scoot a little further without falling to give him some space. 

The machines are loud. Jungkook can't think. He should talk, he should say something. It's weird to sit here like this in silence. If Jungkook can have one single person not thinking he's weird, just one... 

"Are you..." He clears his throat, awkward, awkward, "settling in well?"

"Finally finished all my unpacking. Took me almost two weeks, but I made it."

"My apartment was furnished," Jungkook mutters, biting at the inside of his cheek. "But it still took me weeks to put my suitcases away."

He'd get up in the mornings, rustle through until he found something acceptable to wear, chest filling with discomfort and annoyance. He'd look at them and he get back up to his feet, swear to himself that evening he'd put them away, and so it went, every day.

"It's not the most fun, is it?"

Jungkook shakes his head. 

"Have you gone back up to the roof?"

"No. Not since that night you saw me.”

Jimin seems about to say something else, but one of the machines gets there first. It beeps loudly and annoyingly, insufferable in the small space. Jungkook jumps up to get it.

He hesitates when he opens the little door. "What should I do with these? The person's not here yet."

"Throw them on the floor," Jimin suggests.

Jungkook looks at him, eyes wide but Jimin only laughs. "I'm joking, Jungkook-ssi. Just stick them in the broken one and leave a note. Should be clean, right?"

Jungkook does as Jimin suggests under Jimin's watchful eyes, his legs still swinging casually.

When he's done, Jungkook looks up at him.

Jimin smiles. "All done?" 

Jungkook nods. "I'll...um." Jimin doesn't move a muscle. "Are you...are you staying here?" 

"Well, I still have half an hour on mine, so—"

"Do you want a drink?" Jungkook blurts it out and flushes instantly, and Jimin looks at him in surprise.

Shit. Too much? Too soon? 

He just doesn't want this to be over so soon. It took weeks to see Jimin again, who knows when they will run into each other again? 

Is it that weird? That's how people make friends, right? Doing stuff together. Drinks. Whatever. It is. But Jimin looks so surprised—quick, he needs to—

"I have, uh. Rice wine. That my mom made, upstairs. She stuck it in my suitcase when I wasn't looking, but I haven't managed to drink it yet. You want some? While you wait?"

The surprise on Jimin's face melts into that joyful little smile again. "Lead the way."

The elevator ride is a bit awkward.

Jungkook trying to keep his fidgeting to a minimum. What the hell possesed him to do this?

Maybe the energy of all those crowds rushing headfirst into a saturday morning hungover that contaminated him on the metro like an airborne virus, or maybe how nice it felt to talk for once without having to try, just thought turning to speech-or maybe the way Jimin seems to quietly glow. 

He follows Jungkook quietly, hands knit together in front of him.  Jungkook doesn't stick around to see Jimin's reaction to the place, just books it to the kitchen to grab the wine to have something to do. 

Jimin's settled on the couch by the time he's back. He's taken a pillow onto his lap—the same one Jungkook likes to hug when he's watching something—and he's running his fingers over the soft fur of it. 

He smiles when they lock eyes, and Jungkook freezes for a second. He has such a pretty smile. He looks comfortable already. Jungkook doubts he'd be the same in some stranger's apartment after an impromptu invitation like this.

"Make yourself at home," Jimin says with a laugh, patting the spot next to him again just as he had downstairs.

"You said your mom made this?" 

"Mm." Jungkook pours them two glasses. "It's not my favourite, but I don't want it to go to waste. Figured it'd be lost on the french." 

Jimin's smile turns thoughtful. "You don't want to share it with friends? Colleagues?" 

Jungkook doesn't have any friends, and the idea of bringing his homemade, unlabeled rice wine to the office fills him with dread. He shakes his head. "Do you like rice wine?" 

"Maybe," Jimin says cryptically. "We'll see." 

Jungkook clears his throat and brings his glass forward for a clink. "To welcoming you to the building?"

"Oh, a toast!" Jimin reaches for his glass jerkily in his excitement and sits back into his crouch without spilling a single drop. " I know. How about to the broken washing machine?"

Jungkook blinks in confusion. "Why?" 

"Well, since it's broken, all it hears down there is people cursing at it for inconveniencing them. I bet it was doing its best until the moment it couldn't anymore, and it'd be good as new with some help, so someone needs to balance the scales."

"O...kay." 

Jimin smiles brighter too. "Oh, and it brought us together! We wouldn't have the chance to speak otherwise." 

Who is this person, getting emotional over a broken washing machine? Why did Jungkook bring him into his apartment? 

Why isn't he regretting it at all? 

"To the machine," Jungkook agrees with a nod, and Jimin beams, eyes on their glasses as they clink.

Jimin asks him question after question as he downs drink after drink, and much to Jungkook's delight, he gets all giggly. 

"There's no way there's three Benjamins in your office alone." 

Jimin's got his whole body turned towards him, one knee folded up on the couch and his arm resting over the back of it. Jungkook can feel his hand almost brushing his shoulder, but never quite touching.

It's just there, a possibility. He can't stop noticing it.

"I swear.”

Is he always like this or is it the wine? 

When he comes back up, Jimin brings a hand to his head. "Woah."

It's the wine. "Too much?"

Jimin blinks, staring at Jungkook. "I don't usually—I don't drink. Ever."

"Ever?"

Jimin shakes his head. "Mmhm. I...maybe I should stop." He looks at the remnants of the bottle with a pout. "But it's so good." 

Jungkook swirls what little's left. "Have this and I'll get you some water to chase it down." 

When he does, Jimin gulps it down gratefully. "Oh, that's so good." Satisfied, he folds his arm on the back of the couch and leans on it. He's all soft and ruffled. Jungkook can't stand to look at him too long, all up close and shining. 

"You have really pretty eyes, you know?" 

Jungkook freezes, looking back up.  Jimin smiles when they lock eyes. "Mm. Really pretty. It's different to really, really look at you." He looks lost in his thoughts. "Makes you all warm. Mm. Better keep that to myself, though," he mutters conspiratorially. "Won't like it." 

"Who won't like it?" Jungkook says, his own lips pulling into a smile at cute drunk Jimin. 

Jimin shakes his head. "Nothing. Never mind." He closes his eyes, brings up his legs and gets cosy. 

"Jimin-ssi...are you about to fall asleep?" 

Jimin pouts. "No, I don't do that." 

Jungkook's smile widens. "You're doing it now."

"Take that—" a yawn, "b-back." A random guest in his house, falling asleep on his Jungkook's couch after. A stranger. He should worry about this, right?

But looking at Jimin, breaths coming soft already, his fists clenched in his sleep, he can't find worry in him.

He's feeling warm too, maybe from the wine. 

When the timer he’d set for both their loads goes off, he hesitates, but quickly makes the decision. He goes down and brings both their loads up, and only then does he shake Jimin awake.

"Mm?" Jimin's eyes flutter open, latching onto Jungkook immediately. He straightens up. "Oh my god. I fell asleep."

"Told you so."

"I—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, I—really don't know how this happened." He seems so flustered, getting up and running a hand through his hair, looking around like he's trying to reorient himself in time and space. Way too flustered.

"It's alright, Jimin-ssi," Jungkook says with a small reassuring smile.

The smile must do its job, because he stops fidgeting and lets out a long breath. "It can't be very polite, though."

Jungkook shrugs. "I respect the commitment. It's a very original way to tell me I'm boring." 

Jimin's eyes widen and he shakes his head fervently. "No, no! Jungkook-ssi, that's not—" At Jungkook's growing smile, he stops and squints. "You're joking."

Jungkook nods with a little laugh.

Jimin sighs, collecting himself. "All right. Okay." He shakes his head in disbelief, pinching the bridge of his nose for a second. "I'll go, then."

You don't have to, Jungkook almost says. Almost.

"I left your clothes over there," he says instead, walking over and grabbing the bag. 

"You brought mine up too?"

He asks it like it's something extraordinary, and Jungkook reddens instantly. "It was nothing."

Jimin clutches the bag in his hands, with a thoughtful, delicate look on his face. "Well, thank you anyway."

"It's nothing."

"Thank you for the drink, too," Jimin says with a smile. He keeps looking at Jungkook like he's pleasantly surprised by him. "I liked it a lot. And for the nap, I guess. Quite the afternoon we've had, hm?"

"Yeah." Jungkook chuckles nervously. "Hey, um. See you around?" 

Jimin's glowing smile comes back. "I hope so," he says, low, like it's just for himself. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Jungkook mumbles back and watches until Jimin disappears up the staircase. 

His heart is pounding a little, even though his head is all mellow. He presses his palm to it and feels it thump, thump, thump. He feels exhausted, socialising on top of a full week of work but he can't find it in himself to regret a single second he spent on that couch with Jimin. 

A smile lingers on his lips as he locks the door and picks up their glasses to wash. Having another person in the flat feels different. More alive. It was nice. He wasn't being weird, right? 

The smile slowly slips away. He spoke. He did. He's pretty sure. He wasn't just the awkward silent corner guy? 

Yes, right? 

God, how embarrassing. There was a time he knew how to talk to people. When he didn't second-guess his every word, take care to pronounce it correctly, carefully. 

Things change though, don't they. One day you're in Seoul, the other in Paris. One day you're funny, the other you're the weird brooding guy who never speaks up at meetings. One day you have friends, the other you have apology texts instead of hello ones and outdated photos of your cat. 

Whatever, Jungkook thinks. Week is finally over, so time to go the fuck to sleep. 

  ‧₊˚ ⋅

The boss has been keeping an eye on him, so Jimin's been laying low. 

It's been the pre-approved, recommended half hour visits with perfectly filled out forms that he files the moment he steps foot back into the office. It's been looking over his shoulder for a chance, any chance to slip away, but she's been hovering close for no apparent reason. 

"You know what's up with her?" he asks Seokjin one day as he pouts over his paper. He's going to have to rewrite this report since it's covered in doodles everywhere, the black ink bleeding through where he'd let the tip stay and stay and stay just to see what happens. "She's been so here." 

Seokjin raises an eyebrow at him. "How is it you never know what's happening around here? I wish I could be like you. Is your brain connected to your ears or not?" 

"Yah. Just tell me!"

"What will it get me?" 

"What do you want?" 

Seokjin considers it, swaying from side to side in his chair. "Actually, you're right. There's nothing you have that I don't." Jimin throws him a whole ass file and he catches in mid-fucking air, the bastard. 

"You dropped this," he says with a smirk. "Anyway, it's control season."

"Didn't we just have that?" 

"It's different in every department, Jimin-ah. You know, it'd do you good to reread the heaven handbook once in a while." 

"It would do me good to share an office with someone who doesn't torture me for shits and giggles." 

"I like your colourful words, my darling. They make my whole day." 

Jimin rolls his eyes. "So what, she's going to be checked by her bosses and that's why she's being even more of a pain in the ass than usual?" 

"She is being just as meticulous as she should be to ensure the smooth running of our outstanding department." 

Jimin scowls at him. "What the fuck—oh." The door opens sharply, and here she is, staring at Jimin like she wants to burn a hole through him. 

"Archiving duty. Now." 

Jimin doesn't even try to argue. He murmurs his acquiescence and gets up, throwing a subtle finger behind his back to Seokjin who chuckles.

She leads him to the archiving room like he might have possibly forgotten where it is after spending half of eternity in it, her heels click-clacking the whole way, and proceeds to re-explain fucking everything.

It's a procedure that's been unchanged for millennia that Jimin knows inside and out, but she does not seem to care. She's got a wild look in her eyes, rattling off numbers and sections and rules like the world will end if Jimin lets a single piece of yellowed paper slip. 

Eventually, she has to stop for breath, so Jimin takes his chance to bow. "It's clear, ma'am." 

"It better be," she scoffs, "because you won't be leaving this room until it's all perfectly organised down to the last footnote."

He jumps when she slams the door behind her with enough force to make the hinges rattle. "It better fucking be," he mocks, matching her pitch. 

"See what it's like for the boss to be on your ass all the time? You wouldn't last a day in my shoes." He thinks of her heels. "And me in yours either." 

Archiving is mind-numbing to the point where it feels like he's fallen asleep standing up. His eyes read, his hands move but nothing registers. Instead, his thoughts fly to Jungkook. 

He hasn't had the chance to really stay. Half an hour is nothing compared to the days he spends trailing him, or the evening they spent together on his couch. 

How embarrassing to get drunk like that. Dangerous, too. 

But he thinks of the way Jungkook had smiled that night and he can't find himself feeling bad for any of it. Pride is the only thing he feels. Jimin did that. He put a smile on Jungkook's face—again and again. What a feeling. Direct impact, visible results. Action. God, it's addicting. 

Maybe that's how humans feel when they do those crazy extreme sports. Adrenaline. Thrill. One Jungkook smile is like bungee-jumping to Jimin. 

And when he laughed? That little chuckle? Staring right at Jimin? Magic. This warm rush all over Jimin's body. He still can't get used to Jungkook looking at him. Cause see, it's funny. Jimin spends so much of his time when he's down here looking at Jungkook. Watching over him, observing him.

But looking straight into his eyes and being watched back...something about that made his breath come a little faster. 

He has the prettiest eyes. Strange how Jimin never noticed that before.

And when their pinkies brushed when they were sitting on the machine together...that's a whole other feeling. Jimin rarely touches anyone, never mind his charge, whose feelings he can feel on the daily. 

Even if he can't when he's in human form, it's still a lot. Maybe there's some residue, some tiny link that can never be severed even when he's not in his angel body.  Maybe it was Jungkook's emotions he was feeling. It's all so hard to tell apart, anyway.

Whatever it is, Jimin can't stop thinking about it, which is good, because these shelves go for ages. Literal ages, more than the human brain can conceive. 

He's going to be here a while. 

He just hopes Jungkook is doing okay. 

  ‧₊˚ ⋅

He does his very best to finish it as quickly as possible, but it still takes him a while. It's weeks in earth time before he's able to go back down at all, and as soon as he steps foot in Jungkook's apartment, he feels the darkness creep in.

Jimin notes the state of the space with growing concern. The blinds are closed and so must the windows have been for a while, because the air feels stale and humid. There's enough mugs and dirty plates in the sink to fill the whole thing. 

Clothes are thrown around every inch of the bedroom floor, and in the bed, tangled up in the sheets with one pillow on the floor is Jungkook. 

He doesn't seem to be having very pleasant dreams, if the cold that spreads all through Jimin's limbs is to be trusted. 

"Ah, Jungkook-ah," he whispers, crouching down by the bed, his heart heavy. "I'm sorry." His instict is to reach out and touch, but he tightens his fists at his sides. Not again. He can't do that every time Jungkook feels a little down, no matter how much he wishes he could. Jimin fidgets over him. 

"I wish I knew what you were dreaming about." 

He shouldn't have done it at all, ever.
Jimin thinks the more he does it, the harder it will be to resist it. The more miracles, the likelier it is he'll be noticed. 

But it can do so much good like this. It can give Jungkook relief. 

Jungkook whimpers.

Jimin can't hold himself back from sitting next to him. His hands hover over him, and he clenches them into fist to keep from using his power. 

He just looks so miserable, and Jimin feels it all banging, scratching harshly inside his own chest, clawing at his ribcage. How cruel does he have to be, to have the power to ease this and withhold it?

He puts his hand on Jungkook's head. He loses a moment, just running his hands through it.

"I can't do it again. I'm sorry." He really can't, not so soon. He'll get found out, and then he'd get stripped of his grace, and then Jungkook will be alone again. 

A little sigh leaves Jungkook's mouth, and Jimin stares. Is he calming down? 

Has he accidentally used the power? No. No, he's just...

Oh. 

"Is it..?" He runs his fingers through Jungkook's hair again, petting him gently, and he notices the wild feelings settle, just a fraction. 

Maybe he doesn't have to use the power. 

He switches positions, one hand gently caressing Jungkook's hair and the other running up and down his back, soothing. 

It works wonders. Soon enough, Jungkook's stopped jittering. He's breathing softly against the pillow, hopefully sinking into sleep. Maybe it's not exactly restful, but it's dreamless.

Jimin makes a mental note: touch. Jungkook needs touch. 

Even now he's calmed down, Jimin still feels like his job isn't done, so he quickly makes the decision. 

That same afternoon, he’s back in Jungkook's hallway in his human form. He's fidgeting a little, trying to blindly fix his hair. The burnt orange colour is more common here than in Jungkook's native Korea, thankfully, so none of the neighbours that pass by on the way to the elevators throw him a second glance. 

Okay, what will be his excuse? 

Does he need one? He's pretty sure humans just show up uninvited to their friends' places just to hang out. He can do that, right? 

Humans also bring food when they visit their houses, don’t they? He miracles up some snacks he knows Jungkook loves and smooths down his hair one last time before he knocks on Jungkook’s door.

He opens it just a crack with a suspicious little look on his face. His eyes widen a little as he recognises Jimin. Jimin waves cheerily with the hand not holding the bag. “Hey!” 

Jungkook raises a hand back, a little lost. He doesn’t speak, just waits for Jimin to say his piece.

“I just wanted to—are you okay?" His eyes look panicked.

"I'm fine."

"Just wanted to ask if you had time to hang out for a while. I'm sorry if it's too abrupt. I just felt like it, so I figured I'd come ask."

Jungkook blinks, all slow. "You want to hang out with me?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"No, uh. Nothing! Nothing. Sure. Come in, you...actually." He stops the door from where he was about to open it.

“Sorry, but. Sorry, just—wait here. Two minutes." 

Jimin flinches when the door slams in his face. Two minutes later, Jungkook opens again with a frazzled look. 

"We could...watch a movie?" 

"A movie sounds great!" Jimin skips inside, joy renewed now his invitation has been secured. 

He surveys the much tidier space and smiles at the closed bedroom door and open window. He thrusts the bag in Jungkook's hands. “Snacks!”   

Jungkook hasn't stopped being wide-eyed this whole time, like he's scared he's being pranked. "Thanks—oh! Spicy flavoured chips! These are my favourite." 

Jimin's well aware, but he widens his eyes back. "Are they? Amazing!”

"I haven't been able to find them anywhere! Where did you get them?" 

Oops. Did he magic up an item that’s not available in this city? He should have checked.

He shrugs, hoping Jungkook won't pry too much. “I was uptown yesterday for work, and I found them in some tiny convenience store.” He plops down on the couch like he's right at home, cutting the snack conversation off. “So, you said something about a movie?”

He ends up staying for way longer than he should.

Not that he knows what a normal human visit should last, but he's pretty sure when PM turns to AM, it's a sign you've overstayed your welcome. 

But Jungkook doesn't seem bothered. In fact, it's him who suggests the second movie—"It's the sequel!"—and it's him who insisted on showing him all kinds of weird videos on his phone, swearing they're really very popular and funny.

They started out on opposite ends of the couch, but now they’re almost pressed together, leaning down over Jungkook’s phone. Jungkook’s barely holding on from bursting into giggles. “Wait, wait, ah, what was the name of this one, the one with the emu…hold on.”

He sticks his tongue out a little bit, bites at his lip, trying to concentrate to remember the title, and Jimin can’t help sneaking a glance from up close.  He’s got tears in the corners of his eyes, but for once, they’re happy; he was laughing so hard in anticipation for the previous video he wanted to show Jimin that he welled up.

Jimin has no idea what's so funny about these videos, but they make Jungkook laugh, so he chuckles too, washed away in Jungkook's easy joy. He’d watch a thousand of these weird things if it meant a relaxed, giggly Jungkook at his side.

His face changes when he laughs like this. His eyes shine something fierce, and it's already unfair because he's pretty sure Jungkook's eyes are already as pretty as it gets. 

There's little dimples in his cheeks when his smile grows big enough. Jimin fights the urge to press his finger into them, run the tip over the soft crease just to know what it feels like to touch Jungkook's smile. 

He feels his face grow a little hot, so he gets up to get some water. Jungkook doesn’t look up from his phone, too focused on the search for this mystery video.

As Jimin pours some into two glasses, he considers. He should leave soon; Jungkook needs to at least try to sleep, and it's late.

Jimin’s done what he came to do, provided a distraction, made him smile; made something of this day with him. He should go.

He doesn’t really want to, though. It’s cosy, sinking down on Jungkook’s couch and waiting for him to make a personalised selection of the ‘most popular korean memes he can't believe Jimin's missed' just for Jimin’s viewing pleasure.

Jimin should get a phone too. If Jungkook asks, he can’t say he doesn’t have one. Everyone has one.

He’s a step away from the couch when Jungkook exclaims, all excitement, “Hyung, I found it!” 

They both freeze. 

Jungkook looks up at Jimin with panicky little eyes, like he’s scared he’s going to be scolded. It’s so adorable, and it kicks Jimin out of his momentary paralysis. He sits down on the couch, putting Jungkook’s glass on the coffee table.

He smiles and takes a sip of his water. “You did?”

Jungkook watches him with tight anticipation like he's waiting for the other shoe to drop, one arm on the back of the couch and the other clutching at his phone.

So cute, getting all up in a twist over a word. “Come on, Jungkook-ah, show hyung. You hyped this one up so much I’m really expecting greatness, you know.”   

He watches with a twinkle in his eye as Jungkook’s shoulders relax at the word 'hyung'. He shakes his head a little, hair falling into his eyes, and he shuffles closer to Jimin to put the screen within view. “Right. Here, look. You really don't know this one?" 

"I'm not very online," Jimin says, thinking of the mountains of paper upstairs. Heaven will never not go analog. Thank god angels can't get paper cuts. 

"Yeah but this one, hyung, it's a classic!"

 The life in his voice makes Jimin's chest all warm. "Maybe I saw it once. It rings a bell." 

"Right? You must have. And then this one, it's the same guy, look, he's really funny—" 

He scoots closer still, landing in the crook of Jimin's arm as he lays it on the back of the couch.

Another video Jimin obviously doesn't know starts to play, and Jungkook's eyes keep flicking to Jimin for his reaction. He makes sure to keep his eyes on the screen instead of where he really wants to, which is Jungkook's own. It's magnetic, this eye contact. Jimin can't get enough. 

It's another hour later when he finally gets up to leave,  when Jungkook has started blinking slower and slower.

"It was fun," Jimin says, patting Jungkook's knee, "but I think it's time to go to bed." 

Jungkook turns to him with a little frown. "Oh." He locks his phone while the video still plays. “Sorry. I. I got a bit carried away. Sorry if you got bored. Um." He tucks a lock of hair behind his ear in a nervous gesture. "Sorry." 

Huh? "No, it's not that," Jimin says, turning to face him. His hand find his knee again, squeezing reassuringly, and he swears he can feel his fingers tingle in some leftover connection. "I just feel a bit tired. It's late." 

Jungkook and his frown check the clock on the phone, eyes widening again. "Shit, I've got work in five hours." 

"I'm the one that should say sorry, then." 

"Hyung, no!" He puts his hand over Jimin's and Jimin almost gasps from the warmth that spreads from the spot. Shit, can Jungkook feel it too? Is it going to give him away somehow? "Really, it was so fun. Come again whenever." 

Jimin smiles. "Oh. Whenever? Just unannounced like this?" 

Jungkook shrugs, a little smile dancing on the corners of his lips too. "It worked tonight, didn't it?" 

Jimin finally gets up and heads slowly to the door, stretching his arms above his head. "You're just happy you got to eat your favourite snacks." 

Jungkook lets his smile break out for real. "It was fun, and I'm happy about the snacks." 

"Good," Jimin laughs, "good to be honest with each other, hm?" 

Jungkook’s got his head leaning against the door, eyes blinking a little owlishly. Jimin really wants him to sleep through the night tonight. He can’t spend anymore time here, though.

He needs to be upstairs, with the rest of them. Spending this much time with Jungkook all at once is a risk. 

But look at the result. He laughed tonight. He laughed and talked and flourished with Jimin's company. Jungkook is funny—he's sweet, he's adorable, and Jimin has never been prouder.

“Can I give you a hug?” 

He blurts it out with hardly any control from his brain, and is as surprised at himself as Jungkook seems. 

He's straightened up a little, hands fidgeting at his side. “Uh, y—yeah. Sure, hyung.”  

Jungkook moves away from the door and waits for Jimin to make the first move. 

Now Jimin has to do it.  

Hugs, okay. How do you do hugs? 

He steps forward and wraps his arms around Jungkook's shoulders. He's ever so slightly taller, so loses his balance a little and stumbles half a step. "Oh, sorry."

"It's okay," Jungkook mumbles, soft as anything. 

He wants to hold him tightly, but it’s too much for a first hug. Jungkook seems tense, so Jimin forces himself to just rest his arms on Jungkook’s shoulders, loosely, and he counts the seconds. 

Right as he's about to pull away Jungkook slips his arms around Jimin's waist, trailing over his sides and circling him completely. 

Jimin's heart flutters happily. Jungkook's so strong and lovely against Jimin, and before he can think about it, instinctively, Jimin cups the back of his head, pulling him closer.

Jungkook lets out a shaky breath and melts a little against him, leaning more of his weight on Jimin, tightening his arms around him. Definitely too much for a first hug, but Jungkook doesn’t seem to be complaining, so Jimin stays. 

When Jungkook pulls away, his cheeks are red.

“See you around, hm?"

“See you, hyung,” he says, head resting on the door again as Jimin disappears down the corridor, knees a little weak and that tingling warmth spreading everywhere Jungkook's body touched. 

  ‧₊˚ ⋅

Jimin feels the call of earth every second he's not there. 

He tries to make his presence known upstairs just enough to fly under the radar. The boss still glares at him a lot, but she hasn't subjected him to more archiving or lectures for the moment. 

She still leaves bloody red scathing  comments all over his reports, but he takes them with a smile and thanks her for it. As long as she thinks he's obedient. 

He hangs out with Jungkook often. 

He's taken to coming in the evenings, just after dinner time. Jungkook goes from surprised to expectant to delighted in the span of a few times, and he opens the door immediately now, confident it's Jimin and some snacks. 

"You don't have to bring something every time," he tells him. He's on the floor now, the coffee table pushed away. Jimin joins him, shivering at the soft texture of the carpet under his fingers. "We can order something if we're hungry."

Jimin likes bringing a new snack every time, though. He's taken to actually going to the store to buy them himself instead of miracling them into his hands, trying to guess what Jungkook would like the most, and what looks more interesting to him too. 

"I'm curious about all these flavours," he says, showing Jungkook today's bag of chips. "What's this? Pastis flavour?"

Jungkook laughs, his face scrunching up in the cutest way. "Pastis," he corrects Jimin's prononciation gently, taking the bag from him. "It's a kind of alcohol. Really popular in the South, I think. I have a colleague from there and he keeps talking about it. Complaining about how it's robbery to charge more than two euros for it. Parisiens," he says with contempt, expression twisting in imitation of the guy. "That's how he says it. Parisiens." Jimin has broken down into giggles, clutching at Jungkook's forearm. Jungkook chuckles too before concentrating again to do it one more time. "Wait, it's more like—" 

He imitates the guy until there's tears in Jimin's eyes. He doesn't know what's so funny about it, but he can't quite stop. 

"You do it so well," he says between long calming breaths, "ah, really."

"Well, he talks a lot. I had a lot of time to learn from him." He smiles, looks back down at the chips. "I think he would hate these." He looks up at Jimin brightly. "Let's try?"

The chips are very strong in flavour, but Jimin doesn't mind them. Jungkook immediately grimaces, shoving the bag away. "Ugh, no. No, no, no. Water."

Jimin giggles some more at his exaggerated reaction, eyes following him. He seems looser today, no sign of they heavy fatigue that hangs around him most of the time. 

"Are you close with him?" he asks. "Pastis guy?"

Jungkook grimaces again. "No. Not at all." He drinks some more water to wash the taste away as he settles next to Jimin, knees knocking.

"I don't think he likes me. Which is fine, cause I don't like him either." 

"Why not?"

"He talks a lot. Super fast. I never quite understand him, and he never makes the effort to talk slower with me, even though I've asked. A lot. And he's way too familiar with me. Talks to me like I'm his little brother he can boss around."

"Mm." Jimin nibbles on more of the chips. "But I meant, why wouldn't he like you?"

"Oh." Jungkook blinks, recalibrates. "I don't know. He just looks at me weird. I think he doesn't like that I don't talk a lot. And he's asked me my age like three times. So maybe he doesn't think I deserve to be there."

Jimin hums. "You don't talk a lot? You're talking to me just fine."

Jungkook shakes his head. "Different. So different. We're speaking korean. God, you have no idea how nice it feels." He smiles all relieved, then looks up. "Or, wait, duh. You must. Or are you bilingual or something ? Is Korean your first language or were you born here?"

Shit. Why didn't Jimin think to work on this backstory? "I'm... yes, I'm bilingual. Spoke both since I was young."

Jungkook nods, big curious eyes on Jimin. "And you were raised here?"

"Not exactly," he's scrambling, "not Paris, anyway."

Another nod. "Do you like it here?" It's a tentative question, and Jimin senses the answer matters to him a lot. 

"I'm... finding it hard to adjust," which is true, "I don't feel like I understand people." No need for Jungkook to know he means humans and not Parisians. 

"Right? It's like a different species." He scoots closer, taps on Jimin's thigh as if he doesn't have his full attention already. "Oh my god, the kissing thing? To say hello? Like, who came up with that? I always forget it and then people are just coming at me and it's like," he puts his hands up, "my instinct is to dodge, like are you crazy? Why are you kissing my cheek? My mother doesn't kiss my cheek!"

Jimin smiles, holds his hand loosely on support.

"Right!"

"Shocked me," he says with his cute big wide eyes, "I swear." 

And then he's off. Jimin couldn't stop him if he wanted. He talks about so many things Jimin only vaguely understands, so he struggles to follow, but he doesn't need to. Jungkook just needs to get it off his chest.

He talks about work and culture shock and people and language and so many things that add minuscule bits of stress to his every day that when he gets home, he feels demolished. That's his word, demolished. 

"And I like spend my whole free time trying to build my energy back only to get up the next day to be demolished again." He falls back into the couch. His leg is still digging into Jimin's. "You know?" He looks at him, voice catching a little from some emotion or how much he talked or something else Jimin doesn't understand, but he understands the look in his eyes. It's naked, vulnerable need for connection, and it plucks a string in Jimin's heart. 

He tangles their fingers together, holding onto Jungkook's hand with both of his. 

"I know," he mumbles, wishing he could do more than just listen. 

But the smile Jungkook gives him is relieved, grateful. The squeeze of their hands sends another one of those shoots of warmth up Jimin's body. 

In the long run, it's dangerous for this to keep happening—the leftover charge between them manifesting like this, even in his human form—but tonight, he hopes Jungkook can feel it. 

  ‧₊˚ ⋅

Being in heaven right now is hell. 

Jimin doesn't have personal experience, but what else can you call it when the boss glares and snaps even at her most beloved angel for the tiniest mistake? 

"She's the one who told me to keep going like that," Seokjin mumbles with a frown. His pride is clearly bruised. "What does she want from me?" 

Jimin pats him on the shoulder comfortingly. "Absolute perfection." He shrugs. "That's your burden, handsome. It comes with being the absolute favourite." 

Seokjin huffs. "Call me handsome again." 

"Sit back down, handsome. You're way too tall and intimidating, it's stressing me out." 

Seokjin does, a little appeased. He crosses his arms over his chest in a slouch he doesn't give into often. "Why are you still here, even? Isn't it time to pop down by now?" 

"Had to stay for her customary freak-out. Didn't know it was about you today. I should have left earlier." He snaps his fingers, "Why don't you come too? Be good to take a breather from this place."

"And breathe in earth? No, thank you." He waves his hand dismissively to Jimin's direction. "I'll leave that up to you. Go already, you've been halfway out your chair for hours."

It's too true for Jimin to even try and deny, so he shoots up and flashes him a winning smile. "See you later, handsome." 

Anticipation builds and builds until he's touching solid ground again, landing on the roof of their building. It's a Jungkook day today—they haven't hang out in a week. Jimin's been around for a customary look in, prioritising his dry reports in the face of a nearly feral boss. He's missed Jungkook, is that okay to say? He missed his voice. He takes the stairs two by two, and he feels that little Jungkook stormcloud the closer he gets to the flat.

He can't quite parse all the feelings, but there's frustration there, blocking, exhaustion. Jimin touches his chest as it all floods in, lets it anchor him back down to earth. 

The first thing Jungkook says when he swings the door open is, "how do you always know?" 

"Mm?"

Not even a hello, just a confused little huff. "It's like you have a sixth sense for this. Every time I... um, feel like doing something, you just. Appear. How can that be?"

Jimin blinks. “Should I go, or..?” 

Jungkook seems to shake himself. “No, n—my god, that was so rude. I’m sorry. Come, come.”

He reaches out for Jimin’s wrist to pull him into the apartment. Jimin doesn't want to ask what's wrong yet. He probably won't get an answer. But he needs to help somehow, so...

"Hey," he makes his voice low and light, "can you give me a proper hello at least?"

Jungkook looks at him blankly, understanding dawning only when Jimin opens his arms to invite a hug. "To make it up to me for the rude welcoming." 

Jungkook falls into Jimin's arms. Really, just, falls. He lets his weight drop onto him, mumbling another little 'sorry' into Jimin's shoulder.

Jimin isn't in a hurry to get out of this hug, so he runs his hand up and down Jungkook's back gently, humming back that it's okay. They stay and stay, swaying a little from left to right. 

Gently, as to not break the softness of the moment, Jimin says, "I thought we could watch something, like the other time. If you want." 

Jungkook looks up at him, eyes a little clearer. He doesn’t ask why Jimin doesn’t have plans on a Saturday night. Jimin doesn’t ask him either. “My choice?” 

Jimin smiles. “Alright.”

And that was Jimin's biggest mistake.

He watches the horrible movie through his fingers, jumping at everything. "Why the hell would you choose something like this!" 

Jungkook smiles. "How was I supposed to know you'd be such a scaredy cat? You said it was okay!" 

Jimin didn't know what he was agreeing to. Never again.

“It’s not my fault you don’t seem to have any empathy or sympathy, or-or-compassion-” He really does hate it, but he kicks it up a notch, because Jungkook always laughs when he’s being dramatic.

Jungkook laughs even harder, turning his whole body towards Jimin. “Hyung, it’s just a movie.”

“I know that! But still, what does that say about you,” he pokes Jungkook’s forehead with his finger, “if you can watch such terrible things with joy? Honestly, Jungkook.”

He crosses his arms and falls back onto the couch with a huff. Jungkook’s looking at him sideways, a smile on his face.

With his face all lit up in a smile like this, he looks his age. He looks young and pretty and unburdened by the heavy feelings pressing him down daily.

“What’s scaring you? Is it the noise? Look, I’ll mute it.”

He does, and Jimin watches for a few seconds before he groans.

He turns to find Jungkook's eyes  already on him. “That’s worse, somehow. The music would let me know when something was coming.”   

Jungkook nods, unmuting. “How about,” he brings a hand to cover Jimin’s eyes, “now?”   

“Why are you experimenting on me.”    

“Just testing it out to see how we’re going to finish this.”

“What, if this works are you going to blindfold me?” 

“Maybe I’ll just stay like this for the rest of the movie.” 

“Your arm will get tired.”

“I’ll have to live with it.”

“How about,” Jimin says, and he turns himself around, back to the tv, head on Jungkook’s lap, “this? Isn’t this more comfortable?”

Jungkook’s hand still hovers in the air for a second as he looks down at Jimin in his lap. “Um, sure.” 

Jimin beams up at him. “This is better. Like this I can look at you and you can explain to me what’s going on.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and lowers his hand, settling it on Jimin’s shoulder. “That’s not watching the movie.”

Jimin pouts in thought. “No. It’s more like watching Jungkookie watching the movie.” 

Jungkook laughs, and Jimin laughs too.

He really does stay like that until the end. He feels Jungkook relax more and more as the minutes go by, and it just confirms what he already knows: touch, touch, touch. It works. 

It’s really nice for Jimin too. He’s very comfortable, and the noise of the movie isn’t too horrible, and that’s how he ends up falling asleep for the second time in his life.

Waking up is slow. 

Is sleep always so disorienting? How do humans do it every day?

Somehow, Jungkook’s horizontal now too. Jimin’s head is tucked under his chin, and he has his arm around Jimin’s waist. He’s squished between Jimin himself and the couch, breathing softly.

Jimin props his head up on his palm and looks at him. He looks deep in sleep, face relaxed and peaceful. How can it not make him smile? 

He reaches out his hand and pulls his hair away from his face, combing it back with his fingers. So pretty, his charge. Jimin’s had others before, always felt a deep fondness for them, but this...

He doesn’t know what this is. This need to touch that only ever grows the more he does it, this urge to just look and look and look. He runs his knuckles over Jungkook’s cheek, warm from sleep. 

His eyes flutter open.

“Hyung?”   

Shit.

He’s in his human form. Jungkook can see him!

He pulls his hand away swiftly, hoping Jungkook was too out of it to notice.

He’s stretching a little, making a cute little noise. “We fell asleep?” 

“Mmhm,” Jimin hums, cheeks aflame.

Jungkook’s unbothered by this information, just closes his eyes again and snuggles into the cushion. “Do you want to know what happened at the end?” 

He seems perfectly content to just lie here, pressed close to Jimin, while Jimin’s heart is pounding its way out of this flimsy human chest.

Calm down. If Jungkook thinks it’s okay, it’s okay. Like the hug. If it's not going over Jungkook's boundaries, it's okay. 

“They all died?” 

Jungkook smiles, eyes still closed. Jimin fights the urge to touch him again, run his thumb over his cheek, down his cute nose.

“I mean, yeah,” a sleepy little chuckle, "except for that one guy. The blond one.”   

“He survived?” 

“Mmhm. He looked like you a little, don’t you think?”

Jimin hadn’t noticed that at all. “Did he?” 

Jungkook nods. Either he’s half asleep or he has no filter, because he’s never spoken to Jimin this way before. “Mm. Pretty face. Small and lean and cute. Mmhm.” He frowns. “Except he was blond.” He squints his eyes open and looks over Jimin’s face, assessing. Jimin feels himself light up again. Really, what is wrong with him?

“Blond would suit you,” he murmurs, soft between them.

Then his eyes wander over Jimin’s face, slow and sleepy, lowering and lowering until—

“I should go.”   

Jimin springs up off the couch, running a hand through his hair and breathing, breathing now he’s not crowded up against Jungkook anymore.

Fuck, what is that?

“Oh,” Jungkook says, small. He’s sitting up slowly, rubbing one of his eyes. “Yeah. Okay.” 

Jimin’s feeling hyper, jumping over to his shoes in two big steps and slipping them halfway on. “I’ll see you!”

“Bye, hyung,” Jimin hears him say before he slips out the door, flattening his back to the wall of the corridor.  He brings his hand to his heart, and it’s still going at it, pounding hard, hard, relentless.   

“Won’t you stop,” he mutters to it, pressing down on his chest with his palm.

But really, he couldn't anymore control that than control the way he automatically smiles every time he makes Jungkook laugh. That sense of pride, of affection, it's always been there with his charges, but this is too personal. Too close. It matters to him viscerally if Jungkook is doing okay, if he's laughing, resting.

It's...

Not productive. 

It's not his job to micromanage Jungkook's smiles. Right? He's gone and over-corrected. He's gone and done too much, and what if now Jungkook relies on him way too much? What if it's codependent? It's not healthy, to just have one friend, right?

He needs to branch out.

Hopefully now Jimin's made the start, it'll be easier for him to speak to others. Maybe he can finally start building a life here. 

And Jimin...

Jimin flies right back up, marches into boss lady's room, and says, 

"I'm ready to take on more charges again."