Work Text:
I.
It all started one late afternoon.
Jeon Jungkook, a struggling second year college student, majoring in vocals and minoring dance in one of the most prestigious university in his town; stealing catnaps in between the paragraphs of his literature lecture in the morning after pulling an all-nighter, sprinting from across the campus with tired leg muscles in an attempt to catch his calculus lesson in time and staying until late night confined in the dance studio located at the fourth floor of his building.
And to say that Jeon Jungkook has been spent and lethargic that day is an understatement.
He was about to call it a day, limbs aching from the straight 6 hours of dance practice, nonstop as the dance showcase is just around the corner. He has been working on this same routine for the past two months and he has been waiting for this opportunity to show his hard works to everyone since the day he got the chance to enroll dancing. Not all students are lucky enough to be given the chance to show their talents off, and Jeon Jungkook is not about to waste this rare opportunity he has in his hands.
He tiredly dragged himself towards the elevator, muscles too tired to even walk only to find that the lift is under maintenance and he got no chance but to use the stairs for the mean time. Jungkook spat a long string of curses under his breath all the way to the other side of the hallway until he’s only a few more steps away from the said stairs.
And that’s when he first heard it.
The notes still sound like from a beginner; slow and hesitant with every tip of keys. But somehow, the longer he stands there and listens, in a weird and unknown way, it still gives the vibe of soft and light and almost calming. Jungkook found himself glued at the spot, on top of the stairs and it’s really dangerous if ever someone accidentally bumped into him that will surely send him tumbling down the steps and maybe if he got unlucky that day, might cracked his skull, too.
He stares at the light brown door in front of him, tucked in the corner of the hallway just beside the stair flights. And he listens, feeling his tense muscles slowly relaxing, sweat drying in a cold touch and hesitant piano notes kissing his skin so light it send goosebumps on his nape.
Jeon Jungkook stayed, standing silently, listening carefully and staring at the closed door until seven in the evening.
And maybe, he thinks, that’s the first time he fell not for that person, but for a melody.
II.
Like any other day, Jungkook is no doubt tired as fuck.
He felt drained and limbs aching from the long hours of his usual dance practice. The whole day, his body has consumed nothing other than that one cheap chicken sandwich with extra lettuce, tomato and mayonnaise (because mayonnaise maybe greasy but he’s secretly a sucker for that) he got from the cafeteria on the way to the dance studio, and also gallons and gallons of water to keep himself from dehydration.
He also barely got 2 hours of sleep last night (or dawn), busy shoving history and math books on his nose to study for finals, waking up at quarter to seven this morning and giving him 5 minutes to dress up for school, 10 minutes bus ride and a total of 5 minutes late for the first test after his effort of sprinting that early with all his might from the main gate to his building because goddamn, why is his classroom has to be located at the other side of the campus? Insane.
And so if his looks now kind of resembles to an old crusty zombie you see in apocalypse games by the way his almost purplish eye-bags hanging dangerously close to his cheeks and sweat-damp dark locks sticking on his forehead, no one has to be surprised at that.
Jungkook heavily drags himself out the dance studio door, cheering mentally at the early rest he’s going to have today to be ready for a dreadful routine again tomorrow. He promised himself to get Chinese take-outs and eat until he can’t breathe, maybe play some games, too, while lying on his worn out and messy couch, before tucking himself to bed. Good thing, he has no classes tomorrow.
He turned the cold knob grasp in his right hand, making sure it’s locked before walking down the hallways. Given that it’s still early, the building is still also littered with art students; closed rooms blasting music ranging from hip-hop to the calm notes of suspiciously sounding like lullabies.
And like the usual, he stopped in front of that one familiar door on the fourth floor, tucked in a corner right beside the stairs. He looked down on his wristwatch, seeing it’s the same time from the last two months and as if on cue, there’s a familiar soft and light tip of notes coming from a piano inside, starting the same melody he has been listening to from the last couple of months.
He remembers it all, when it all started. It’s around the same time from the last two months when he accidentally heard that same calming melody coming from the inside.
Jungkook thinks, having the lift under maintenance that time was a blessing in disguise. It may sound creepy to anyone but Jungkook can’t find it himself to stop doing what he’s doing now. It’s been two months, and he’s witnessed how the once tentative notes have slowly improved, worming its way to almost flawless and light like feather pressed of keys against soft fingers, hesitation no longer to be heard.
He found himself a sanctuary in the form of this familiar calming melody. And once upon a time, he made it his personal mission to find the person behind this. But every time he hears piano the keys had stopped, followed by a shuffle of feet against the floor board, his instincts to run the fuck away from there right the very second kicks in reflex. And before he knew it, he’s outside the building. It’s unknown to him, but if he stayed for at least a couple more second, he’d probably met the said person, face to face.
He should also now probably be asleep at night in peace, an angelic, beautiful face matching the pianist in his dreams.
III.
It’s one early Monday morning when Jungkook found himself being dragged out of his apartment.
He can’t quiet remember how he had his (favorite) red shirt (he remembers well he doesn’t wear anymore since that day because it’s from someone) and wash jeans on when he knows for a fact that he tossed himself on the bed last night with only a pair of ugly sweatpants and nothing on top.
And then, he’s stumbling on the side road with a nagging mom beside him, one hand clutched tightly around his right forearm as if he’d be gone sprinting away any moment now. His still sleepy system can’t catch all the coherency around him now, he can’t even understand the male’s word beside him except, ”Seriously, Jeon Jungkook. It’s been a long while, might as well learn to at least take proper care of yourself. Look at you, all bones and flesh.” And he has to resist himself from groaning at the exaggeration and settle for rolling his eyes to the back of his head.
The first thing he notices is the sudden warm that hits the cold skin of his cheeks, warmth spreading through his whole body, followed by a soft chime of bell from above them after Seokjin pushed the glass door in front of them.
They’re at the same coffee shop. The coffee shop they used to spend and waste their time every after school hours and until the dusk is starting to surround them. Jungkook felt the tense immediately creep up his shoulders, every muscle tensing as he grounded himself on the spot, eyes wide in realization and panic.
Seokjin must’ve noticed his dilemma because soon, he felt gentle hand pats his head and shoulder. He looks up, meeting concerned but reassuring brown orbs. A soft motherly smile was sent his way and he felt his body slowly and slightly relaxing.
“It’s okay, Jungkook-ah. It’s still not his shift, right?”
The question, must be unintended, but still shoots a pang in his chest. And as he nods, he just wanted to curl up on himself at the realization that maybe it’s been four months but it’s still not enough time to heal and closed up. He still remember everything. Even his duty schedule as a part-time barista. How fucked was he exactly?
They both settle away from the glass walls, too afraid he might accidentally see a familiar mop of dark brown hair from a distance coming. He has his chocolate muffins and a large cup of vanilla latte while Seokjin have a plate of large cookies and large cup of green tea himself.
They eat in silence. Jungkook roaming his eyes at the whole café without even knowing, not sure if he wants or not to actually see a mop of dark brown hair bouncing from somewhere near him. It’s been four months since the last time he saw him, and he shouldn’t be feeling and acting like this since he’s the one who pushed him away; who broke it off.
Instead, he hears the small soft chime from behind him as a customer came in. He’s half way on his muffin when he saw a mop of orange head standing in front of the counter in his peripheral view. Jungkook looks at Seokjin whose busy shoving large cookies in his mouth, chewing like a hamster while half his attention was in his phone in hand.
Then, he turns to look at the counter, the orange head was facing back at him. He’s small and tiny and almost looking soft in the oversized peach sweater he has on, suspiciously looking like Taehyung’s jumper – he’s ex-lover’s best friend. He shook his head at the thought, still staring at the mop of soft orange strand laughing in front of the green haired man behind the counter – he belatedly realizes was Min Yoongi, fourth year college student from music department and his co-worker.
Jungkook should really starts focusing on what’s in front than what he’s left.
IV.
Jungkook thinks he’ll really appreciate a 6 years sleep after this.
He huffs when he finally reached the dance studio, pushing the door open just enough to slip his body inside before shutting it behind him and sway his direction to one corner to toss his backpack on the floor. He walks towards the hi-fi set, arranging the song he’s choreographing for the past month with a solid goal of perfecting every move before the performance. It’s big, and he has been waiting for this for so long, working his ass off even before sunrise until midnight.
Jungkook stands on the middle, staring at his reflection on the floor-to-ceiling mirror. He has his black beanie on, a gift from someone, to prevent his locks from sticking to his forehead after the sweaty routine. He’s clad in a black oversized shirt and gray sweatpants, a practice outfit that is very similar to that someone from before when they used to go over a song together.
He swallows, ears buzzing as flash of memories from that day plays in front of his eyes like a slide show.
It’s not his fault, he tells himself, or at least tries to convince himself. It’s been over four months and they’ve been both busy. He’s been really busy. And he has plans. He has dreams to reach and goals set to achieve. He has to focus. It’s not his fault. And it’s for them both. It’s for them.
It’s almost the start of the first verse when Jungkook noticed that he’s lost in his thoughts that he forgot to pay attention to the instrumental intro of the song blasting through the four corners of the room, moving his feet slowly as soon as the notes start.
He cursed under his breath when he messed up one step and almost trip over his own feet, halting abruptly and squinting at no one to focus on the other tip of melody overlapping the song he’s dancing to.
It’s from a piano, soft and mild and light. And Jungkook doesn’t even noticed at what part he actually stopped listening to his song to actually zoomed in all his focus to the calming tip of melody gracing his ears now.
He slowly shut his eyes to focus more on listening on that melody, feeling his nerves relaxing like a fucking miracle.
There’s only one who can give this same immediate effect on him.
Jungkook quickly snapped his eyes open at the thought, sprinting to one corner to turn up the volume of his song, effectively blocking the soft piano melody from resounding in the room.
V.
Jungkook should’ve seen it coming.
Except, he didn’t.
He doesn’t know what he’s expecting but this wasn’t it for sure.
He should’ve known the moment he first saw the small frame of a man with orange hair bouncing his way to the counter of that same coffee shop that one morning. He should’ve realized why those soft, tiny frame looks scarily familiar to him even though the boy completely has his back on him. He should’ve known the moment those light, happy giggles slips past the guy’s lips, how it sends tingling sensation to his body. He should’ve seen it, the fond, loving smile the green haired man behind the counter sends to the orange head as an answer – the same way how he reacts to his ex-lover… Park Jimin.
It’s been four months and he shouldn’t be feeling like this. He has moved on. He has, for sure, he knows, a long time ago. And he really shouldn’t be feeling like this when it’s all his decision. His alone. Feeling bitter and sour and jaw clenching at the sight of someone he knows very well laughing with another man. And that other man has to be his senior, a short pale man with permanent scowl on his face and a shock of mint hair.
He should’ve seen that once he let go of Park Jimin, there’s always Min Yoongi who’s ready to catch the boy. And that’s what’s happening now.
The day he broke everything off with Jimin and leaving the boy behind closed door, he should’ve realized that he’s just going to regret everything. Breaking something almost established and domestic with someone kind and beautiful is the most pathetic and stupid thing to do.
He should’ve gone past those glass doors of the coffee shop the next day when he visited the place, seeing the heart wrenching sadness painted on Jimin’s face that he desperately masked with his usual grin towards the customers to survive his work duty. Those once sparkling bright eyes that were glassy and lifeless that day when Yoongi trudged his way from behind the counter, Jimin’s forearm gently grasped in his pale hand and leading them both in one secluded corner.
He saw how the senior stares at his ex-lover, the same way how he looks at Jimin when the boy was utterly frustrated with himself for messing up an exam or doesn’t get the dance steps right. How Yoongi patiently waits for Jimin to stop sobbing in front of him while tentatively rubbing his back because of another guy; a guy that is no doubt stupid for hurting an angel for lame, selfish reasons. How he gently pulled the boy and caged in his arms securely, tucking the small tired frame in his pale arms as if he wants to hide the boy from the cruel world, whispering comforts and sweet nothings on the soft brown locks as Jimin tries to calm his nerves. How he pulled just a tad bit away from Jimin after a minute too long, still too close for Jungkook’s own comfort but enough space to stare at the tear-stained flushed cheeks, pale long fingers brushing the wet out of the sun-kissed skin lightly, handling him like a porcelain doll and so soft and loving and Jungkook felt his heart breaks into an even smaller pieces as Jimin flutter his eyes shut, leaning into the touch as he exhales a sigh of contentment and nods at whatever Yoongi whispers into the air between them.
He can’t hear what they’re talking from where he’s standing outside the shop, but the way Jimin cracked a small smile – small but genuine – directly towards the senior, the smile that used to be sent to his way, only his and his alone is enough for him to wish to bring them back to that day where this all started.
But Jimin looks safe and calm on another man’s arm and so Jungkook chose to turn around, heels digging heavily to the dirty concrete beneath him as he tried his best to gulp much air for his tightening lungs, leaving broken pieces of his heart with every step away from the two and completely missing the way the smaller boy peered over the pale man’s shoulder a couple of second later, staring at his retreating back with even sadder and defeated eyes.
VI.
This is wrong, Jungkook tries to convinced himself.
He knows for a fact that he shouldn’t and it’s wrong and creepy but he’s remained still on his spot, standing like a pathetic kid at one dark corner as the wild party around him goes on. He can’t help but stare at a mop of orange and mint hair standing out proudly in the darkness of the room, absolutely stealing all his attention to focus on them and here he is, doing just that. Stupid, right?
The said pair has one couch all for themselves, sitting happily like they’re in a park bench instead of in a one wild college party, personal space obviously long forgotten and probably didn’t even matter in the first place by the way the pale senior wraps one of his arm clad in black leather jacket securely on the other’s shoulder, pulling the person beside him and pressing their body impossibly even closer to each other.
Jungkook stares at them darkly, tipping the cup of red liquor in his mouth and swallows angrily.
He shouldn’t be feeling like this. It is just fucking wrong.
“Jungkook-ah!” A voice from somewhere managed to steal his attention from the pair (fucking thankfully), eyes roaming in an attempt to find the owner through the mass of sweaty and grinding bodies. It’s Hoseok, one of his friends and his dance captain, emerging from his right with slightly wobbling feet, obviously already tipsy.
“Oh, hyung.” Was his short greeting in acknowledgement.
Hoseok’s lips break into a wide grin, mouth forming a heart shape as his perfect white teeth is on full show, one heavy arm winding around his shoulder. “Glad to know you made it!” the older boy shouts over the loud music. Jungkook just nods as an answer. “I honestly thought you won’t even consider our invitation because you know…” the older boy trailed off, words slurring before continuing with a softer and careful tone this time, “…he’s here also.” Hoseok added, slightly leaning on Jungkook’s ear to whisper the last words.
It’s been four months, but their friends still think it’s still a sensitive topic to talk about. Even going as far as to not mention the other’s name. Asking first for permission when they planned on inviting them both in one event. He doesn’t know why they think it’s still not okay. Of course, he is okay.
It’s been four months and he’s okay…
Jungkook unconsciously traveled his eyes back on that annoying couch, witnessing how the orange haired boy leans on the pale man’s side, body shaking in his giggles as he shoves his face further onto the skin of the pale neck to hide his laughs. He watched with heavy heart how the green haired man pulled the other even closer to his body, wrapping both arms this time on the giggling mess with a rare gummy smile on full display. Jungkook witnessed how the usual scowl on the senior’s face was nowhere to be found. Well, he has always observed this even when he and Jimin were still together. Yoongi obviously has a soft spot for his ex-boyfriend. But the senior had been decent and civil to back off because he knows Jimin was already taken. That Jimin is Jungkook’s. But sadly, not anymore. And like now, the pale man is grinning, unusual for everyone to see; eyes soft, almost sparkling as he stares lovingly at the body he is hugging.
…or so he thinks he is.
Jungkook thinks there’s something wrong with the drinks he had consumed earlier, feeling how his stomach dropped somewhere beneath his toes and leaving a sick feeling in his body. He thinks he’s going to throw up.
He looks down, hand crushing the plastic cup until his knuckles turned white.
It’s okay. He’s okay.
VII.
One week away from the showcase and Jungkook makes sure to invest every single second of his every day on working extra harder on his routine and getting more meticulous and strict with himself in perfecting everything. Because Jeon Jungkook is known the perfectionist and he doesn’t accept anything less than perfect.
Except.
Except he can’t figure out why he feels everything utterly less than and miles away from perfect. Like one move and he’s slipping on the floor under him with a loud thud and scraped knee in the process. Tripping over his shoe to cause a small delay in his step a millisecond and he’s body’s out of beat.
He’s been working his ass off with this routine for fucking almost half a year and he is here, messing everything like he always does.
Panting with exhaustion and mind drifting off somewhere he’s not allowed to until he’s frustrated with himself and he’s gripping both hands in his hair, hard and harsh until he felt like he’s going to detached his scalp off his skull any second.
Except, he can’t get rid the sight he saw last two nights at the party. Every time he closes his eyes, all he sees was a mop of orange hair splayed on a pale neck and giggling, too happy for Jungkook’s liking. He can’t swallow the fact that those bright big brown eyes and wide fond smiles aren’t directly for him anymore. That those special cute eye-smiles and airy whisper and breathless giggles aren’t for him anymore. That those small warm hands aren’t wrapping on his own anymore.
That Park Jimin isn’t his anymore.
It’s his choice so why the fuck is he like this? He doesn’t know. Jungkook doesn’t know. Or he just doesn’t want to accept the fact that he made the most stupid decision ever… leaving Park Jimin. Giving the freedom no one ever asked in the first place. Cutting the romantic relationship he once had with the lovely boy. Breaking up with Park Jimin because he wants to focus on his dreams and set goals and fuck! Fuck fuck fuck, why the fuck is he so stupid!
He wants Park Jimin. He wants him back in his life.
But it’s too fucking late because his Park Jimin is now Min Yoongi’s.
To say that Jeon Jungkook is currently frustrated with himself is fucking understatement. He was fucking devastated, he hated himself so much. He’s so stupid. Why did he ever think breaking up with the most beautiful and kindest person like Park Jimin was a great idea?
Jungkook is known as perfectionist. But without Park Jimin in his life, he doesn’t think he’d ever be felt whole and perfect again.
You’re the best, Kookie! You’re perfect, okay? I’m so proud of you.
No more reassurance from his insecurities.
You know that I love you, right? Always.
No more silent promises of forever.
Please… please, Kookie, don’t leave.
No more Park Jimin. Anymore.
Jungkook tiredly pulled himself up where he’s sprawled from the cold floor, skin damp with sweat and eyes watery. He shuffles through the door, palms wiping the stubborn tears that managed to slip down his cheeks before pressing the heel of his hand on his closed eye until he sees stars.
And then there’s the familiar melody of the piano; soft and light and calming. He quickly stops walking, staring at the slightly ajar door in his right. It’s where the song’s coming from, louder and clearer than the last time he heard it from the dance studio.
Jungkook slowly take a careful step towards the door, inching his body closer and closer until he can feel the cool of air conditioner from the inside fanning on his still sweat-slicked skin. He carefully pressed his ear on the door, closing his eyes as his whole attention focused solely at the smooth notes.
The sound of the piano stopped right before the bridge of the song starts, and Jungkook open his eyes in slight confusion. A long minute of silence passed and he has decided to just leave to go outside the building. And just as he’s about to pull himself away from the door, he heard the familiar voice from the inside; soft and light and sweet like the usual, like the last time he heard it without cracking and trembling at the very end of each plead for Jungkook not to leave him. He felt his heart stop beating for a fraction of second before slamming in miles a minute in his chest.
Then it dawned on him. Why he quickly fell for the sweet melody. Why it gives him the same calming effect.
Because all this time, it’s Park Jimin.
Because all this time, it’s Park Jimin that he still admires even from unknown and distance.
But Park Jimin is not alone.
“Hmm. How’s that sound, Yoongi hyung?” Jungkook heard Jimin asked sweetly, almost playful and teasing.
There’s a beat of silence followed by the sound of footsteps and Jungkook has a vague idea of what was going on inside. He wanted to know, to confirm but he doesn’t want to see at the same time. He can’t still get over from the last time he sees them both that night at the party, and he doesn’t know he will ever be ready to see them together this close again.
“Well, it’s not that bad.” Yoongi says, voice raspy but still strangely fond.
Jimin giggles happily at the answer.
Jungkook felt his heart dropped somewhere beneath his toes. Can practically hear the loud crash and shutters as it breaks into tiny pieces. It’s here again, that sick feeling settling in his stomach and he felt like suffocating.
“If that sounds bad, then you’re the only one to be blame because you’re my tutor.”
“When did I ever?”
“You know, I’ve always wanted to learn how to play piano so I can play it for someone special—“
Jungkook can feel his heart stops beating for real. And he held back a hiccup when a lump forms in his throat.
“Kookie, when are you free? You promised to teach me to play the piano.”
“Hyung, I’m busy. Showcase and exams are just around.”
“But you promised me—“
“Jimin! I said I’m busy. What part of busy you don’t understand?”
“K-Kookie—“
“I’m going to sleep. I’m tired.”
“—and I’m glad you’re the first one to hear me play it, Yoongi hyung.”
It’s so stupid of him. It’s so stupid of him. Jungkook wanted to cry, to scream, to storm inside and pull Jimin and begged for him to come back to him, to come back in his life, to ask for forgiveness and hug him and kiss him and just claim him his again. Like the old times. When he’s the only one Jimin could see. Like he’s the fucking world with the way Jimin looks and smiles at him. Like he’s the fucking air to whisper and breathe.
Those time Jimin insist on playing the piano, all this time, it’s all for him. Only him.
How fucking stupid, Jeon Jungkook, he bitterly chides to himself.
He wants Jimin back to his world, when it’s all him who can hold its axis. When it’s only him that can paint it colorful and monochrome. When he’s the only one who can pour rain and sprinkles it with rainbows.
But now he can’t. Not when Jimin obviously doesn’t want him anymore, doesn’t need him. Because Jimin is happy now, but sadly, not because of him anymore. Not anymore.
Jimin was his melody, once upon a time.
How he wished he wasn’t stupid enough to let other be Jimin’s happily ever after.
“I’m glad I was the first one to hear it, Jimin.”
“And you will be the only one, Yoongi hyung. Always.”
Once upon a time, Jeon Jungkook fell for a melody that wasn’t meant for him anymore.