Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jimin kicked open the door to his apartment, shutting out the sound of traffic and faint music from the street, and closed the door with a satisfying click as his gym bag hit the floor. He wiped his forehead, muttering to himself:

“Another workout down. Feeling good. Ready for a snack.”

He sighed dramatically as he threw his sweater onto the couch. He had just spent the last hour at the gym trying to shake off a particularly exhausting day, but his mind was still racing. He needed comfort, and comfort came in the form of instant ramyun and a drama he had rewatched at least three times.

As he boiled the water, he stood by the counter, staring absently at the kitchen window that overlooked the city. The lights from nearby apartments flickered in the distance, and for a moment, he felt oddly…alone. The familiar sound of water bubbling behind him didn’t make it any better.

Why am I still single?

It was a thought that bounced around in his head all too often, but tonight it felt louder. Most his friends had their significant others, or at least someone they were casually interested in. 

And then there‘s Jimin. The one who showed up at every event, pretending he was fine with his situation. The one who laughed off questions about his “love life” because, honestly, it was easier than admitting he didn’t even know where to begin.

Was it because he was too picky? Too afraid of getting hurt? Or maybe he was just too good at being friends with people that it always ended there.

He grabbed a fork, stirring the noodles absently, his thoughts continuing to spiral. Maybe he was just out of practice. Out of touch with that part of him that craved something more than the usual one-night flings or pointless flirting with people who weren’t really interested.

His phone buzzed on the counter, snapping him out of his spiral. He glanced down and saw the email notification pop up.

"Congratulations, Mr. Park! You’ve just booked the ‘Lovebirds Discount Package‘: A 7-Day Couples Retreat at the Busan Mountainview Resort!"

A spike of panic shot through his chest. The noodles were forgotten as he stared at the screen. His hand hovered over the phone, but he couldn’t bring himself to click open the email yet.

How did he end up here?

A scam maybe?

I’m such an idiot, he thought bitterly, suddenly too aware of the irony that he was alone making instant noodles in his apartment, while everyone else seemed to have someone to share it with.

He clicked open the email with trembling fingers, skimming through the details.

Check-in: Next Saturday.
Couples-only activities: Couples Yoga. Couples Cooking Classes. Couples Massage, Hot Springs for Two. Romantic Hike.

He could feel his pulse thumping in his ears.

Couples. Two. Romantic.

I didn’t mean this, he thought, staring at the screen in horror. 

Fuck.

The next seconds felt like a slow-motion disaster. His brain scrambled through the how-the-hell-did-this-happen-process, running over every detail. And it all came flooding back in a bright, cringeworthy flash.

~

It was a Sunday morning, and the café was bustling with the sound of chatter, clinking silverware, and the occasional burst of laughter. Jimin sat at the round table, nursing a cup of iced coffee, while Jin took his time explaining to the group how “romantic getaways” were the key to unlocking a deeper connection with someone.

“It’s simple,” he said dramatically, one hand gesturing in the air like he was giving a TED talk. “You have to go to a couples retreat. You know, to learn about each other—about love and connection. Connecting about making memories! Think of all the couples who really grow together! Look at Namjoon and his stacks of self-help books.”

Namjoon, sitting across from him, didn’t flinch. He, seemingly mostly absentminded today, just gave a small smile. 

Tae, who had been picking at his pancakes, suddenly brightened. “You mean, like Jimin and Jungkook, right?” The eldest of the maknaes froze, hand paused in mid-air as he raised his fork. He hadn't been ready for that. Backstabbing best friend. 

“Uh, what?” he asked, trying to sound casual, but somewhat failing.

“You two have been inseparable for years,” Taehyung said with a playful grin. “A weekend retreat, just the two of you—sounds like the perfect bonding experience. Right?”

Jimin chuckled nervously, glancing at Jungkook, who was distractedly scrolling through his phone on the other side of the table. He was no help. As usual.

Jin leaned in with a dramatic gasp. “You guys could be like… one of those cliché rom-com couples! The kind that hikes up a mountain, then has a heated argument, only to end up making out in the rain. I see it, Jimin. You two, on a love-retreat.”

Jimin tried to deflect with humor, but it wasn’t really working. “Yeah, sure. We could totally do that.” 

But Tae was having none of it. “Uh-huh. Sure. But you and Kookie have been through it all—picking up each other‘s pieces, laughing at the dumbest jokes, and holding hands in front of everyone at every party. So, yeah, I’d say it’s about time for some reflection time in the wilderness,” he concluded, wiggling his brows.

He was clearly joking, but Jimin could feel his cheeks flush. He tried to laugh it off, but it was getting harder and harder. His best friend had a way of throwing him off balance with his perceptive, teasing remarks, somewhat being right in the end.

“Yeah, well,” he tried to salvage some dignity. “We’ve been friends forever. Don’t know where the big deal is.”

But Namjoon, mostly the voice of reason, spoke up, his deep voice cutting through the rising awkwardness. “But why not go on the retreat?” he asked calmly, his eyes flicking between Jimin and the others. 

“I mean, what’s stopping you? I bet it’d be a nice experience, to get away from the usual routine, daily stress and all. The next few months are gonna be stressful.”

Jimin’s throat tightened. He could already imagine the scenes in his head—Jungkook, quiet but undeniably warm, sitting across from him by a candlelit dinner, their hands brushing casually as they both reached for the same dish. 

He giggled to himself. Silly!

“Ha, right, of course. I’ll just ask him to pretend he’s my boyfriend for a week,” Jimin said, mimicking a casual shrug, like it was no big deal. 

The table fell silent for a second, all eyes turning to Jimin as his stomach sank. He laughed again. “I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?”

The words left his mouth before he could even process them. 

“You two?!” Yoongi raised an eyebrow. “Pretty much anything.”

“Yeah, just for a week. Maybe there’s a discount if you're extra happy,” Jimin said, desperately adding a hint of forced laughter. “Nothing big.”

But Tae nodded sagely. “I think that’s a great idea, actually. Imagine JK with that fluffy sweater of yours on a mountain retreat, surrounded by hot springs and…soul searching!”

Namjoon chuckled, then paused. “Wait, you’re really doing this?” He’d said it lightly, but with a knowing look. Like he knew something Jimin didn’t.

~

And here I am, he thought, eyes locked on the email again, having booked for a retreat I didn’t even want to attend.

He had to stop doing this to himself. Thinking about it too much never helped.

But when he stared at the empty seat across from him at dinner, or when he saw happy couples laughing, feeding or leaning into each other, it just hurt in the quietest way.

He finished making the ramyun, took a deep breath, and picked up his phone again. Time to face reality. Just get through this, he told himself. Seven days. You can do it. Just fake it. 

He clicked open the email, the confirmation bouncing back at him like a slap to the face. That's when his phone buzzed again. Speaking of the devil: It was a message from Jungkook:

‘Hey, you okay? You seemed off earlier.’

He felt a small burst of hope. Maybe he would have some perfectly sensible solution. After all, he was the calm to Jimin’s chaos, the voice of reason when it all went sideways. Well, when he wasn’t the one causing any of it.

He hit the ‘call’ button.

“What’s up, shorty?”

Jimin took a deep breath, looking back at the email like it might have been an illusion.

“I’m in trouble,” he said dramatically, trying to sound serious but failing. He could already hear his chuckle from the other side of the phone. “Remember that retreat we talked about?”

“Blurry…” Jungkook said slowly, clearly not sensing the panic coming through his friend‘s voice. “What about it?”

“I signed us up for it. For real. I wanna say ‘accidentally’, but that‘d be a lie. So, a couples retreat. You and me. Next Saturday.”

There was a beat of silence. Then laughter echoed from the other side of the phone. “You did what now?”

“See it as a free vacation, you me and some other couples. I already paid."

There was a beat of silence on the other end. Then, Jungkook started laughing again.

“Wait, what?” He laughed harder. “You’re serious? You actually did it?…Bro!”

“Yup,” Jimin said, trying to sound nonchalant, though his voice betrayed him. “I panicked, okay? They were going on and on about how amazing it would be, and I… I just said we’d do it. And now we’re actually going.”

His friend paused, the line quiet for a second. “Okay, hold up. You and I—what, are we pretending to be a couple now? Is that what this is?”

Jimin winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just for a week. No big deal, right? We've been holding hands and cuddling for years, so what’s the difference really?”

Jungkook snorted. “Oh, that’s your defense? We’re already basically in a relationship, so it’s not a big deal? I think you’re trying to convince yourself more than me.”

Jimin rolled his eyes, leaning against the kitchen counter, staring at the retreat brochure on his phone screen. “I’m serious! We’ve done it all before. No one will even notice. It’s just for a week, a couple of days, and then it’s over.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” The maknae spoke up again, more serious now. “You’re being serious about that? For real?”

Jimin’s heart dropped into his stomach. “Well, uh… you know,” he stammered, “it’s not that big a deal. It’s just pretend, really.”

Jungkook seems not convinced. “Yeah, and it won’t be awkward at all. Right?”

He could practically hear the smirk on his face, and it only made his anxiety worse. “It’s not like we’re actually dating! It’s just pretend!”

His friend let out a dramatic sigh. “Okay, okay, if you say so. But I’m gonna need some ground rules. First: unlimited snacks. I’m talking all the chips, cookies, and junk food they have. I’m not faking a relationship without compensation.”

“Deal. What else?”

“And secondly,” Jungkook added, his voice dropping slightly, “I get full control over cuddling positions.”

“Sure, whatever you want. This is supposed to be fun. Fake it ‘til we make it.”

Jungkook was quiet for a beat. “You sure you’re okay with this? I mean, you’re the one who signed us up for that thing.”

Jimin sighed, feeling a little silly. “Yeah, it’ll be fine. Seven days. No one has to know.”

His friend hummed thoughtfully on the other end. “Mhm. Don’t let me get too comfortable, shorty.”

Jimin’s breath caught in his throat. He laughed quickly to cover the awkwardness. “Nah. No need for that. ”

“Mmh.”

There was a pause. A beat too long. Jimin cleared his throat. “Okay, so you’re in?”

“Guess I don’t have a choice, huh?” the other replied, sounding far too amused. “But, sure. I’ll be your boyfriend for a week. At least I get unlimited snacks and free massages.”

Jimin let out a relieved breath. “Thanks, Kookie. I owe you. Plus, I could really need some time off.”

“Of course. It’s gonna be fun.” he chuckled. “I can already picture you in one of those cheesy romance movie montages. Hiking up a mountain, dancing in the rain…” His voice trailed off.

Jimin rolled his eyes, feeling more at ease now. “As long as I don’t have to star in a musical number, I think I’ll survive.

“Oh, don’t act like it’d be a burden, sweet cheeks.” His friend laughed and hung up, leaving him staring at his phone. 

It was a stupid idea. Insane, really.

But those were often the most fun. The ones people would wanna hear about.

Right?

Jimin still sat cross-legged on the couch, the warm bowl of instant noodles resting in his lap. The RSVP email still glowed on his phone screen beside him, as if taunting him with its bright, overly cheerful font.

“Romantic couples retreat—7 days of reconnection, relaxation, and romance!”

He let out a long sigh, blowing at the steam rising from his food.

Was this really a good idea?

The question lingered in his mind as he absentmindedly stirred his dinner. On the surface, it felt like one of his most classic bad decisions—right up there with bleaching his hair at 2AM, or trying to do yoga with Jin after a few shots of soju.

But maybe it wasn’t entirely wrong. He was exhausted. Not just physically, but mentally, emotionally. Idol life would be go-go-go for months to come. Years probably. Late-night rehearsals, endless press, flights that blurred time zones. He could already feel it in his bones.

A break. They needed a break before falling back into idol life.

He scooped up a mouthful of noodles and chewed slowly, already thinking about the quiet that might exist at the retreat—trees instead of cameras, fresh air instead of dressing rooms, silence that wasn’t filled with expectations.

And if that break just so happened to come in the form of a couples retreat? Well. That was only awkward if he made it awkward, right?

What could go wrong?

He paused, and then immediately scoffed at himself.

“With us two? Pretty much anything,” he muttered, mouth full of noodles.

The following weekend, his living room looked like the aftermath of a variety show challenge—specifically, the “pack your bags while panicking and ignoring your feelings” episode.

Open suitcases lay scattered across the floor, half-filled with clothing that made no coherent sense. A bottle of SPF 50 lay beside a pair of fuzzy socks and a silk sleep mask. 

Somewhere in the chaos, his phone buzzed again, Jungkook’s contact lighting up the screen. Jimin answered on speaker and immediately regretted it.

“Jiminie!” his voice blasted through the room like he was announcing the start of a concert. “Okay, what’s the vibe? Are we packing for soft-boy mountain cottage core? Or lumberjack fantasy? Or like, sexy spa gays?”

Jimin blinked at the call. “You’ve given this a lot of thought.”

“I’ve made a Pinterest board.”

He paused. “…You made a Pinterest board?”

“Several, actually. But this is the main one. I’m going for ‘cozy but lowkey hot,’ like, you’d trust me to light the fireplace but also maybe take my shirt off while chopping wood.”

Jimin made a strangled sound, dropping a handful of sweaters into the suitcase. “We’re going to the mountains, not filming a drama, Kookoo."

“Same difference,” Jungkook shot back. “This is a bro-bonding retreat, okay? We’re ‘bronding’, redefining masculinity. With bathrobes and facemasks.”

Jimin flopped down onto the couch. “This is not a bro-bonding retreat.”

“Not with that attitude,” his friend said a little sulky. “You’re packing all your black turtlenecks, aren’t you? Bring one of those oversized cardigans that makes you look like someone’s delicate poet boyfriend.”

“I am a delicate poet boyfriend.”

“Exactly. So, lean into it.”

Jimin groaned. “I’m going to wear whatever’s clean and doesn’t emotionally compromise me.”

“That’s the opposite of what you should wear. This is a romantic mountainside getaway. With scenic walks. Fireside wine. Matching slippers. I, personally, am planning my whole lookbook.”

“You don’t have a lookbook.”

“I’m color-coding it as we speak.”

Jimin buried his face in a pillow. “You’re having way too much fun with this.”

“Of course I am. I get to pretend to be your boyfriend for a discount. That’s like fan service and I‘m the fan being served.”

“Don’t say ‘fan service’ like that.”

“What? You want me to tone it down? Fine.” Jungkook cleared his throat and dropped his voice an octave. “‘Jimin-ah… I drew us a bath. Come unwind with me and talk about our feelings.’”

Jimin nearly choked on his own breath. “Jungkook!”

“Let me hold you in the hot springs, baby. Like, emotionally."

“I swear to God, if you say one more boyfriend line I’m calling Tae and making him go with me.”

“You wouldn't survive one night in the mountains with Jin and his ten-step skincare monologue. You need me.”

Jimin rolled his eyes, trying not to laugh. “You’re exhausting.”

“And yet, here I am, being the best boyfriend you’ve ever had. Admit it—you’re lucky.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“You adore me.”

“I—” Jimin faltered, caught off guard by how easy it was. “Anyway. Pack practical stuff. Layers. It gets cold after sunset.”

“I’m bringing a face mask for every night.”

“That’s excessive.”

“I’m bringing a second one for you. You’re glowing lately, Jiminie, but we’re going for radiance.”

Jimin smiled in spite of himself. “Fine. But if you bring matching pajamas, I’m drawing the line.”

Jungkook gasped. “Excuse me? I already ordered them. They have tiny cartoon sheep on them and say ‘Snooze Bros’ in pastel font.”

There was a beat of stunned silence. “You didn’t.”

“Oh, but I did. We’re committed to this retreat aesthetic, shorty.”

Jimin groaned into the pillow again. “I should’ve just gone alone. Fuck the discount.”

"I‘d might change my name…"

"Sorry?"

“Never mind. You’d miss me before you even finished the welcome drink, Chim.”

Jimin opened his mouth to argue, then thought about it—and cursed because, yeah, probably.“...Just be ready by noon,” he mumbled.

“Yes, my sweet honey puff.”

Jimin hung up before he could hear the cackling on the other end. And yet the stupid, lingering smile stayed on his face like an annoying watermark

Friday night, Jimin sighed as he zipped up the last suitcase, flopping backwards onto his bed like he’d just completed an Olympic event. Clothes folded (kind of), toiletries packed, backup snacks tucked carefully between his hoodie collection. Mission mostly accomplished.

He glanced over at his plant shelf by the window, a lineup of slightly wilted green things valiantly clinging to life. Pulling his phone off the charger, he called the only person reckless enough to agree to plant-sitting, and yet weirdly trustworthy when it came to living things.

“Tae-Tae,” he said when the line picked up. “You remember how you said you wanted to be closer to nature?”

Taehyung didn’t miss a beat. “You’re giving me a succulent, aren’t you?”

“Worse. I’m trusting you with all of them. For a week. I even labeled them. Some are very sensitive, just like me.”

“Ah, your emotional support flora. Got it.”

“I’m serious,” Jimin said, already regretting it. “If the monstera dies, I die.”

Taehyung gasped theatrically. “You’re being so brave right now, love.”

“I’m also being very stupid,” he muttered. “But you’re the only one who won’t forget them for a week and then claim ‘an artistic drought’ as an excuse.” 

“I told you not to trust Hobi in his production era,” Tae said, then added: “Okay, fine. I’ll check on your green children. They will be sung to sleep and misted with love. You want me to emotionally nurture your foliage?”

“They’re delicate. They respond to tone,” Jimin pouted.

There was a long pause, then Taehyung asked, “How long are you abandoning your kids?”

“Just a week.”

“And what’s so important that you’re fleeing civilization and leaving me in charge of your tiny indoor jungle?”

Jimin hesitated. “…A retreat.”

“A what now?”

“The couples retreat we spoke about”

There was another long pause. “Are you two eloping?”

“NO! It’s not like that, it’s—long story. I may have RSVP’d to a romantic retreat while slightly tipsy at brunch.”

“Ah,” his friend said, in that wise, terrible tone of his. “The Champagne Betrayal, I remember.”

“Exactly.”

“And you’re going… with Jungkook.”

Jimin groaned. “Yes.”

“Oh, I cannot wait for this,” he cackled. “Are there scheduled activities? Cooking classes? Hot springs? Midnight gazing into each other’s eyes?”

“I hate you.”

“You’re gonna come back married, I can feel it.”

“I just need you to keep the plants alive, not manifest a wedding.”

Taehyung laughed again, softer this time. “I’ll take care of them, don’t worry. And Chim?”

“What?”

“I get to be best man. It was my idea after all.”

“I’m hanging up now!”

“I’m just kidding. You deserve a timeout. Even if it comes with heart-fluttering eye contact and fake-boyfriend nonsense.”

Jimin blinked. “…Thanks?!”

“And if you accidentally fall in love, I expect updates! Have fun with your mountain honeymoon, and give Kookie a smooch for me!”

“It’s not a—! Good night.” 

He hung up before Taehyung could spiral into another round of teasing, then flicked over to Jungkook’s chat and fired off a neat little checklist he’d drafted on the Notes app:

Packing List 🧳 — Layers: Sweaters. Jackets. Gloves.
— Comfy clothes for downtime
— That giant black hoodie you never wash
— Face masks, toothpaste, deodorant (DO NOT FORGET AGAIN)
— Hiking boots
— Pajamas. Bring normal ones. Please!
— Headphones
— Snacks for the car (you‘re always hungry)

A minute later, the typing bubble popped up.

JK 💪🏻🐰

Wow, this is so hot of you.
I love when you‘re micromanaging me 😌💗

Jimin

I will leave you behind!

JK 💪🏻🐰

you’d miss me before you hit the highway 🫶

Jimin rolled his eyes but didn’t reply. He plugged in his phone, double-checked his alarm, and slid under the covers. 

Outside, the city hummed softly. Inside, everything was ready. Because despite the teasing, and the fact that they were about to fake date in the woods—he was excited. Like, actually excited.

For the fresh air. For the silence. For the way Jungkook always looked in the morning sun, hair messy and eyes soft.

“Tomorrow’s gonna be fine,” he whispered to himself, tucking deeper under the blanket. “Totally normal bronding. Nothing weird. Just vibes.”

His phone buzzed once more.

JK 💪🏻🐰

Night, my sugar plum cookie. 

Can’t wait to be in love with you 💗😚

Jimin stared at the screen, let out a breathless laugh, and turned the phone off. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

Chapter Text

Jimin stood outside his apartment building, one suitcase at his feet and a tote bag over one arm, staring down at his phone like he could will it into ringing.  He checked the time, again, when from the end of the street, a sleek black car turned the corner like it was auditioning for an action drama. Windows tinted, headlights glowing for now particular, and music thumping.

Subtle was not a word in Jungkook’s vocabulary.

Jimin exhaled loudly, brushing imaginary lint off his sleeve like he hadn’t been pacing nervously for the last ten minutes. The car pulled up beside him and the window rolled down. “Hey, shorty,” Jungkook grinned, shades perched on his nose even though the sun was barely out. “Going my way?”

As Jimin was about to enter the car with a lopsided grin he double checked his wallet and, “Naaah, I forgot my ID!” he wailed.

Before his friend could make a remark, he hurried back to his apartment, frantically rummaging through his drawers and tossing items onto the bed. He had been on time for once, now he was running late. Again. "Where is it, for fuck's sake?" he muttered. He'd checked his jacket pockets, his bag, even the kitchen counter, but there was no sign of the ID.

"Bro! We’re gonna be late!" Jungkook’s voice floated from outside the door, probably laughing at his frantic state.

“I know, I know!” he snapped, his voice high-pitched. He was definitely not enjoying the idea of showing up late to the welcome barbecue. It was already bad enough that they had to pretend in front of all these couples.  Now he was about to add ‘disorganized disaster’ to his list of things to be embarrassed about.

Jimin flipped over yet another pile of clothes, his heart sinking. “Come on, just where is it?” A few more moments passed before he found it—tucked away in the back pocket of the jacket he never wore. Of course.  "Got it!" he called out in triumph, grabbing the ID and rushing to the door. "I’m coming! Don’t start without me!"

He swung the door open to find Jungkook leaning against the car door, arms crossed, the usual grin on his lip. The sight of him just standing there, completely at ease, made Jimin want to pull his hair out.

“You good?” his friend asked, voice a mixture of amusement and a hint of 'I expected no less'.

Jimin shot him a glare. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just... you know, losing my mind.”

"Clearly," Jungkook teased, throwing open the door for him. "If it helps, I’ve only been sitting here for twenty hours."

Jimin grumbled under his breath but got in, slamming the door shut a little harder than necessary. He could already feel the dread building up in his chest as they pulled away from the apartment building. He glanced out the window, trying not to think about how awkward this whole thing was going to be. “It feels like we’re gonna be really out of place there.”

Jungkook, ever the optimist, just shrugged. “We’re gonna be fine. It’s just a barbecue. We’ll eat some food, smile, and act like we’re in love.”

“I can’t even pretend to be on time. How am I supposed to pretend to be in love?”

“Just smile and nod,” his friend said, effortlessly shifting gears. “We’ve been buddies for how long now? And you’re worried about acting like you're in love for a weekend? Beside, we've done worse.”

“A week. And I’m not worried,” Jimin snapped, though his voice betrayed him. “I’m just... I’m not great with the whole PDA thing.”

Jungkook gave him a sideways glance. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ve got this covered. I’m a professional.”

Jimin shot him a deadpan look. “A professional? What, in being my boyfriend?”

His friend chuckled. “Exactly,” he said with a wink, bunny grin on full display. “You just need to follow my lead and relax, Chim. We’re gonna look like the most convincing couple there, trust me.”

Jimin sighed, sinking lower in his seat. “What if people can tell?”

“They won’t. No one knows us there... Hopefully. Just stick with me, and nobody will know.”

He caught Jungkook’s smirk out of the corner of his eye. “What?”

“Nothing,” he replied, like someone who had a lot of ‘something’ in his head. “Just wondering how long you’ve been spiraling.”

“I’m not spiraling.”

“Bro… You labeled my snacks.”

“I didn’t label them. I just organized them by flavor category.”

“Right. Very chill.”

Jimin crossed his arms, trying not to let the inside of this car—already smelling like vanilla air freshener and smugness—feel too comforting.

“You packed extra for a week?” he asked, eyeing the second tote bag Jimin had wedged between his legs.

“We’re going to the mountains. I need options.”

“You brought, like, four different sweaters.”

“Layers are important.”

“No one’s gonna care about your ‘vibe’ in the woods, Chim.”

“Well I care,” Jimin muttered. “There could be photos. And I refuse to look crusty while supposedly dating a hottie. Besides, you were the one yapping about Pinterest boards and vibes.”

Jungkook laughed, unbothered. “Don’t worry, you always look good.”

The city faded into hills and scattered trees, and for a while comfortable silence settled between them. Only the hum of the engine and the occasional shuffle of a snack bag broke the quiet. Jimin stared out the window, chin in hand, watching scenery blur by.

Okay. Think. This is fine. Totally manageable. You’ve done scarier things. Stadium tours. Live broadcasts. Airport fashion. You can survive that, too. Right?

He inhaled sharply. Jungkook glanced over. “You’re spiraling again.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re vibrating like a phone on silent.”

“I’m thinking.”

“Same thing.”

Jimin made a vague hand gesture that was probably supposed to mean ‘leave me alone’, but his friend just grinned and tossed a mini bag of honey butter chips into his lap.

“For your nerves,” he said sweetly.

“You think this is funny?”

“I think it’s adorable,” Jungkook said, eyes back on the road. “You’ve already imagined at least five fake scenarios in your head, haven’t you?”

“Seven,” he muttered before he could stop himself.

His friend cracked up. “Okay, okay. Let’s make this easier. Ground rules.”

Jimin sat up a little straighter. “Yes. Yes, okay. Rules are good.”

“Of course,” Jungkook said under his breath. He held up a hand. “Rule one: No kissing.”

Jimin exhaled, relieved. “Good. Yes. Agreed.”

“Unless the vibe calls for it.”

He whipped his head around. “What vibe?”

“I’m just saying. If we’re about to blow our cover in front of, like, a suspicious retreat organizer or some couple named Sunhee and Jaemin who have trust issues and need us to set an example—”

“Stop talking.”

Jungkook grinned. “Rule two: no weird touching.”

Jimin nodded quickly. “Yes. Also good. Rule three: No getting carried away,” he added firmly.

Jungkook blinked. “When have I ever gotten carried away?” But he already grinned. “Fine. No getting carried away. But what if I fall in love with you by accident?”

“Bro!”

He shrugged, teasing. “It happens. One minute you’re pretending, the next minute you’re gazing into your best friend’s eyes under fairy lights, and boom—gay!”

Jimin groaned and leaned back against the seat and whined, “You’re enjoying this far too much, Kookoo.”

“I really am.”

But underneath the jokes, there was something comforting about his ease. Like maybe this wasn’t going to be a total disaster. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, glancing sideways with a grin that could only be described as trouble.

“So... no sexy spa gays, no cuddling on the couch?” he asked, his voice faux-innocent. “We can hold hands though, right?”

Jimin groaned. “Please stop helping.”

But his friend wasn’t done. “What about a trust fall?” he asked. “Or tandem kayaking? Or couples yoga?”

“Couples yoga…” his hyung muttered, instantly picturing Jungkook’s stupidly strong arms holding him mid-stretch and deleting the image just as fast. He slouched in his seat and crossed his arms tighter, cheeks heating. “Look. No PDA. No weirdly romantic stuff. This isn’t a drama.”

Jungkook, eyes on the road but smirking, replied too smoothly, “What drama would that be? Maybe something like ‘Let’s Pretend for a Week and Try Not to Fall In Love’? Perhaps the ‘fake boyfriend’ trope?” He giggled.

Jimin choked on air, coughing hard enough to grab for the water bottle in the cup holder. “Shut up. You’re making me think about it.”

Jungkook was already laughing. “Who knows, maybe I'm manifesting,” he grinned inappropriately. 

The other took a long, dramatic sip of water to hide his face. “This is going to kill me.”

“Nah. You’ll survive. I’ll protect you from the spa gays.”

Jimin groaned again, but this time there was the tiniest smile tugging at the corner of his lips. The road wound deeper into the hills, trees rising on either side. He leaned his head against the window, watching them blur by like watercolors.

As they turned onto the long, winding driveway leading into the retreat, Jimin sat bolt upright in his seat, anxiety kicking back into high gear.

He could already see a few other cars parked neatly near the lodge, a mix of sporty weekend-getaway types and suspiciously bougie Italian and German cars. Clusters of couples milled about in front of the main building, wheeling their designer luggage across the gravel path, giggling, holding hands, or kissing cheeks.

Jimin’s stomach dropped. The retreat was picturesque. Too picturesque. The kind of place where people propose with rings hidden in forest-themed scavenger hunts and Instagram photos. Wooden cottages peeked out from the trees, each one framed by soft lights and smoke curling from chimneys. The smell of pine lingered in the air. It looked like a drama set designed to crush him.

“Oh no,” he said softly.

Jungkook, on the other hand, looked positively delighted as he parked. “This is adorable. Ten out of ten cottagecore.”

Jimin swallowed. “They’re gonna know…”

“They’re not gonna know. Besides,” his companion added, climbing out of the car with a stretch, “we’re pretty darn cute together. Ask ARMY.”

“Oh my God.” Jimin dragged both hands down his face as he got out of the car. 

As Jungkook swung his bag over his shoulder and offered him his suitcase like a gentleman, there was something maddeningly warm in the way he smiled, completely unaffected and totally at ease.

This was going to be fine.  Probably.

As they walked toward the main lodge, he felt the weight of his suitcase like it was filled with bricks. His heart rate quickened, and suddenly, the air seemed thicker. Maybe it was the scent of fresh pine, maybe it was the romantic getaway vibe of the place, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of impending doom. What if someone recognized them? What if—

“What if ARMY's here?” he suddenly blurted out, turning to his companion with wide eyes.

Jungkook, who was already strolling ahead with a confident swagger, glanced back. “What?”

“ARMY!” Jimin repeated, voice higher than it needed to be. “What if one is staying here? What if they see us? What if they think we’re actually a couple?”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow and gave him that signature half-grin, as though this was the funniest thing he’d heard all day. “Oh God, don’t panic. I’m pretty sure ARMY isn’t going to be staying at a couples retreat in the middle of nowhere to get some love bird-discount outside of Valentine's season.”

“I don’t know,” Jimin said, wringing his hands. “What if they just… show up? What if one of them is like, ‘Oh my God, Jimin and Jungkook?!’ And then they’re all, like, ‘are you two really together?’” 

He winced. “And then we have to be like, ‘yes, we’re definitely, 100% in love and this is not just a cover-up.’”

Jungkook stopped in his tracks and gave him a look that was so full of amusement, he could’ve sworn he was hiding some deeper, devilish plan. “And then what?”

Jimin blinked. “What?”

“Then we say, ‘Yes, of course. Would you like to take a picture of us? We’re very much in love and definitely not just two idiots pretending to be to save some won despite being incredibly rich.’”

“Jungkook, seriously!”

He just chuckled, his voice carefree. “Bro, you’re being dramatic. No one’s gonna notice. And if they do, we do what we were taught and lie.”

Jimin’s heart did a little flip at that. "And what if we don’t act like we're in love and someone catches us and—"

“You are in love,” Jungkook said casually, slinging an arm around his shoulder and pulling him closer in that way that was just familiar enough to make his brain short-circuit. “I mean, who could resist me?” He pointed at himself, smugly

Jimin flushed but quickly shrugged him off, though the tension in his chest didn’t ease. “Shut up. This is a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Relax,” he grinned. “We’re basically experts at this whole boyfriend thing. Just think of it like one long, awkward variety show. Nothing’s gonna happen.”

Jimin’s phone buzzed in his pocket, cutting the tension between them. He pulled it out and glanced at the notification. It was from Tae:

'Have fun at the retreat! Just remember, no weird PDA, no making out in front of strangers, and no doing anything weird that will end up on Twitter.'

He stared at the message for a beat, then looked at Jungkook. “Are you sure you’re not in on some cosmic prank where everyone knows about this but me?”

“Wait, wait. Let me guess…” his voice dropped to imitate Tae‘s tone, “Don’t make out with that idiot in public. Alright, shorty,” he said, casually slipping his arm around his shoulders as they began walking down the gravel path toward the reception. The touch was effortless, almost too natural, like it had been practiced a hundred times. 

“Time to show them how in love we are.”

Jimin tensed slightly at the touch, but quickly recovered, forcing a relaxed smile onto his face. “Right,” he said with a little too much enthusiasm. “We‘ve got this. Totally natural.”

Jungkook scoffed. “Just walk with confidence. The trick is to make it look effortless.”

“Effortless,” Jimin repeated under his breath, doubting every word.

As they approached the reception area, the first of the other “couples” came into view, and his stomach dropped. A group of three couples were standing near the check-in desk, chatting with the retreat staff.  They all seemed so in love, and Jimin couldn’t help but feel like an outsider again. He and Jungkook, standing there with their awkward half smiles, clearly didn’t fit the mold.

His eyes flicked to his companion, who was still acting like this was the easiest thing. His posture was relaxed, hislaid-back confidence shining through.

Jimin cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure. “Okay, we just need to look... normal. Like we’ve been in a relationship for years.”

“Years, huh?” Jungkook raised an eyebrow at him. “Where did we meet? When did we meet?”

Jimin shot him a quick, nervous glance. “At a club in Hongdae, three years ago. You lived alone and I was open minded. Now, just act natural.”

Jungkook’s lips curled into a smile as he gave his shoulders a quick squeeze. “I’m just saying, we could totally pull off the ‘long-term relationship’ look.”

Jimin stiffened at the sudden touch, but he tried to mask it with a deep breath.  As they approached the reception desk, the staff greeted them with warm smiles. Jimin forced himself to smile back. Jungkook, on the other hand, was already flirting with the receptionist with his usual relaxed charm, acting like he owned the place. 

“Welcome to the retreat!” the woman said, her smile wide as she handed them their check-in materials. “Here’s your itinerary for your stay, and your key to your cottage. We’ve already assigned you to the romantic cottage Nr. 7. It’s perfect for young couples who need some… privacy.” She winked.

Jimin winced at the word “romantic” but said nothing. He just gave a tight smile and took the materials. “Thanks,” he mumbled. 

Jungkook, clearly loving this, leaned closer to the receptionist and asked, “So, do we get points for being extra in love?”

The receptionist laughed softly, her eyes darting between them, clearly amused by their antics. “You can just enjoy the week. We’ll take care of the rest.”

Jimin could feel the heat rising in his face. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to laugh at this casual attitude or bury his head in his hands.

Jungkook gave a dramatic bow, “Thank you, we’ll be perfect little lovebirds,” he said in a voice so exaggerated it almost sounded like a joke. “Come on, honey bear.”

As they turned away, heading toward their cottage, Jimin huffed in frustration. “You’re making this worse.”

THe maknae just grinned, completely unfazed. “It’s not hard to pretend we’re in love. You’re just taking it way too seriously, Jiminie. Relax. I mean it. You need to stop stressing about it.”

He shot him a side-eye. “I’m not taking anything seriously. I’m just trying not to die from embarrassment.”

His friend shrugged, nudging him playfully with his elbow. “You’re doing great, sweetie. Just keep walking.”

Jimin sighed. But as they reached their cottage, the door swinging open to reveal their romantic little hideaway, he couldn’t help but feel a little overwhelmed. Maybe he was taking this too seriously. Or maybe Jungkook was making it way too easy to pretend. Either way, his friend was right. He really just needed to take a deep breath and relax.

The space was indeed charming. Nice with warm wood paneling, big windows framing the lush greenery outside, and a cozy fireplace. But the thing that really sent a wave of panic through him was the king-sized bed.

“The ‘only one-bed’ trope, here we go,” Jimin sighed. It was huge, fluffy, with a soft quilt draped over it and a mountain of pillows piled on top. The kind of bed that said: ‘We’re going to spend the whole week cuddled up talking about our feelings... Or doing other things beds were meant for.' He blushed immediately, trying to stop his mind from going there. 

“I’m sleeping on the floor,” he said, turning away from the bed and scanning the room for any alternative. The couch was tiny and clearly not an option, the floor looked uncomfortably hard—but he wasn’t about to back down.

Jungkook, who had entered the cottage behind him, was already casually tossing his bag onto the bed like he owned it. He flopped down dramatically, arms sprawled out, as if he’d been waiting for this moment all day. “What, you don’t want to share a bed?” he said, grinning up at him like it was the most natural thing. “But we’re basically already in love.”

Jimin’s eyes widened. “There is no way in hell I’m sharing a bed with you.”

Jungkook pouted, but it was half-hearted, the corners of his lips twitching like he was barely holding in his laughter.  “But it’s a couple’s retreat! I’m your sweet, caring boyfriend, remember?" He gestured dramatically to the bed. “I’m being an excellent boyfriend already. Sharing a bed is just part of the package deal, Chim.”

Jimin’s stomach twisted. “I’ll sleep on the floor,” he repeated, his voice firm, though the hesitation in his steps gave away his uncertainty. “I’ll make it work.”

Jungkook’s teasing tone softened slightly, but it only made him more nervous. “Don’t you trust me? It’s not like we’ve never slept half naked in the same bed. Don’t act all chaste all of a sudden.”

Jimin froze. His heart skipped a beat, and he could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. He quickly turned away, looking anywhere but at his friend's face, praying the dim lighting would hide the red flush creeping up his neck. 

“Stop joking around. I’m serious. You take the bed, I’ll figure something out.”

Jungkook, now more relaxed, leaned back into the pillows, arms behind his head. “I guess we’ll see if you survive the night on the floor. Keep the fire burning, so you don’t freeze to death,” he said, his voice light and teasing but with just enough softness that it almost felt comforting.

Jimin clenched his fists at his sides, trying not to show how flustered he was.
“I’ll be fine. Super fine!”

The other shrugged like he didn’t care, but there was an almost mischievous spark in his eyes. “Suit yourself. I’ll just be over here… cozy in this comfy bed.”

Jimin could hear his smug tone, but he refused to look back. There was no way he was letting this retreat break him. No way was he going to let this man's jokes get under his skin. He’d just have to power through.

But as he turned to gather his things, Jimin could feel the pull of the bed—the way it looked too soft, and the fact that it was just one bed.

He wasn’t that desperate for sleep, was he? “Fine,” he muttered, glancing sideways at Jungkook, who was now so comfortably sprawled out on the bed, looking like he had every right to be there. “But if I end up freezing to death on this floor, you’ll be the first to know.”

THe maknae's grin widened, his eyes turning warmer. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

After dropping their bags in the cottage and getting settled, they headed to the first scheduled event of the retreat: a Korean welcome barbecue.

The scent of roated meats filled the air as they approached the outdoor area, where large tables were set up beneath a canopy of trees. Excited chatter from other couples drifted over, and Jimin could already feel his nerves kicking in again. "Okay," he muttered, adjusting his shirt as he glanced around. "This is just a barbecue."

"Relax, shorty. It'll be fun. Free food, good vibes, and nobody’s going to think twice about us. Think: nobody knows us here."

"Yeah, sure," Jimin replied. "No biggie."

Jungkook patted him on the back, a little too enthusiastically. “You’re doing great, sweetie. Besides I‘m good at everything, remember?”

Jimin chuckled as they made their way to the tables, where couples were already gathered, laughing and chatting. He immediately feels out of place. He quickly looked away, adjusting his posture in an effort to look natural. They found a spot near the back of the seating area, sitting at an empty table. He tucked his hands into his lap, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone.

"Relax," his friend whispered, clearly noticing his discomfort. "We’re just here for the food."

Just as Jimin was about to say something, a voice interrupted them. "Well, well, well. If it isn’t my favorite couple trying to sneak under the radar."

Jimin’s head whipped around to see part of the PD-line, casually strolling up to the table. But what caught him off guard is the way they’re standing—closely enough to look like they’re not just friends. 

Namjoon’s arm was draped casually around Yoongi’s shoulders, while his hand tucked into his 'boyfriend's' back pocket, not even a little bit shy about the display of affection.

Jimin stared, wide-eyed. “Hyungs?”

"Hey, Jiminie," Namjoon said, raising an eyebrow with a sly grin. "How’s the retreat going so far? Enjoying the romance?"

His mind was spiraling again. "You guys are—what are you doing here?"

Yoongi shrugged, his expression a little less amused but still smug. "The same thing, I suppose. We call it: dating for discount. We thought we’d keep an eye on you two while we’re at it. Couldn’t let you mess up our little couples retreat, now could we?"

Jungkook, who had been watching this interaction with a mixture of confusion and amusement, leaned toward Jimin and whispered, “Are they really... pretending too?”

Jimin could only stare, speechless. They’re just as chill as ever, acting like being ‘together’ is the most natural thing to them.

“I thought we were the only ones pulling this off,” he said, half to himself, trying to process the situation.

Yoongi smirked. "Nah, we’re just here for the perks. And, you know, to make sure you don’t embarrass yourselves too much."

Namjoon leaned in and lowered his voice. “Look, don’t stress. We needed the time off. But we’re professionals, okay? We’ve got the acting part down.”

Their hyung rolled his eyes but gave them a smirk. “I’m just here for the booze and the food. If anything goes wrong, you’ll see how quickly I’ll bail.”

Jimin looked at his partner in crime, whose eyes were wide with amusement. He was clearly loving this turn of events.

“So, you guys are just... keeping an eye on us? Making sure we don’t go too far off script?” he asks, a little suspiciously.

Namjoon shrugged, his hand still around Yoongi. "Basically. It’s in our best interest that things go smoothly. That way, we all win." He flashed a knowing smile. "And don’t worry, we’ll help you two keep up the act. We’ve been doing it for years."

“Yeah,” Yoongi grinned. “Watch and learn, amateurs.”

Jimin couldn’t help but stare. “I feel like we’re being watched by the world’s most experienced date-for-discount veterans.”

Meanwhile, their hyungs settled down next to them, continuing the casual charade as if this was just another Friday night. Namjoon even started picking at the side dishes like this was dinner with friends.

Still in a daze, Jimin  quietly muttered to his neighbor. “What the hell did we sign up for?”

He, now thoroughly entertained by the situation, leaned back and flashed a grin. “The most normal couple retreat ever. What could go wrong with the four of us in the same place?”

Oh God!

Chapter Text

The next morning, Jimin regretted everything.

He groaned as he tried to stretch, his back cracking like bubble wrap. Sleeping on the cottage floor—no matter how many blankets he’d stacked—was not a good life choice. His body ached in places he didn’t know could ache. And somehow, his hip felt like he’d attempted a triple spin and failed.

Meanwhile, Jungkook emerged from the bathroom fresh-faced, towel around his shoulders, hair still damp and glowy like a drama lead.

“Morning,” he chirped, far too cheerful for someone who had hogged the bed like a smug little bear.

Jimin scowled from his cocoon of blankets on the floor. “I hate you.”

Jungkook blinked. “What’d I do?”

“Exist.”

Laughing, his friend tossed him a clean towel. “Breakfast buffet’s open. Come on, cranky boy. Maybe coffee will fix your tragic attitude.”

The retreat’s dining lodge was warm and rustic, the smell of coffee and freshly made breakfast floating in the air. Jimin, still sore and shuffling like an old man, carried his tray with a sigh. 

Jungkook was already piling food onto his plate like he was preparing for hibernation.

And that’s when they spotted them.

Namjoon was at a table near the fireplace, feeding strawberries to a very unimpressed Yoongi, who looked like he might actually perish from secondhand embarrassment.

Jimin stared. “What... am I looking at right now?”

Jungkook grinned. “Oh no. They weren’t kidding.”

“Morning, lovebirds!” Namjoon waved them over.

Yoongi gave them a pained look. “Please help me.”

They sat down, and Jimin immediately went for coffee like it was life support. “I can’t believe you’re going through with this.”

Namjoon gave him an innocent smile. “Like I said, only to observe and assist. If needed. By the way, our names are officially Hyuk and Mingyu. What do you go by?”

Jimin awkwardly cleared his throat. He hadn’t thought about that in the daze of panic.

“Honestly, you being here is kind of comforting." Jungkook shook his head and giggled. "If we crash and burn, at least you’ll be here to help scoop up the ashes.”

“Or light the match,” Yoongi deadpanned.

Namjoon clapped his hands. “Anyway! Couple-hiking is next on the schedule.”

Jimin cleared his throat. “Hiking?”

“Yes!” his hyung beamed. “One of my favorites. Nature, bonding, challenge courses along the trail—it’s the perfect combination of fun and trust-building.”

Jimin visibly relaxed for the first time in 24 hours. “Okay. That’s doable. No massage oils. No eye gazing. Just trees.”

Yoongi blinked at him, slowly. Then he grinned. “You think the trees will save you?” 

The couple-hike was supposed to be low stress.

That’s what Jimin told himself as he stared up at the scenic woodland trail carved into the forest behind the retreat. The morning sun streamed through the trees, birds chirped obnoxiously cheerfully, and their group of couples gathered at the trailhead like it was a field trip. 

Everyone looked disgustingly loved-up.

And Jimin? He looked like he was about to be sacrificed to the god of awkward intimacy.

Their hike instructor—a way-too-peppy woman in her 30s—clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention. “Welcome, everyone! Today’s hike is all about connection and communication. This is a couples exercise, so for the first half of the trail, we’ll be doing a hand-holding challenge!”

Jimin immediately rolled his eyes. He normally would’ve enjoyed this. But not under those circumstances.

“Each couple will walk the trail holding hands, no letting go until the midway rest stop! It’s about learning to move at your partner’s pace—physically and emotionally.”

Yoongi, who had clearly done this before, automatically reached for Namjoon’s hand and muttered, “Let’s get this over with, MiNgYu.”

Namjoon squeezed his fingers and whispered something that made Yoongi snort. They were already halfway up the trail before Jimin could blink. He glanced sideways at Jungkook.

His partner in crime, smiling like it wasn’t a problem at all, held out his hand.

“You heard the lady,” he said. “Time to bond, honey baby.”

Jimin blinked at the offered hand like it was made of lava. “Do we have to?”

Jungkook leaned in, voice low and teasing. “Come on, hyung. We’ve held hands before. Don’t act all bashful.”

“That was different,” Jimin hissed. “That was backstage comfort-holding. Not... relationship cosplay in the middle of a forest with strangers.”

“Right,” his friend said, still grinning. “Because holding my hand on a mountain is way more intimate than back-hugs and cuddling on camera.”

Jungkook wiggled his fingers. And with a defeated sigh, he reached out and took his hand.

It was warm. Familiar. Maybe a little too nice.

Jimin stared straight ahead, very aware of every step, every brush of their arms. “No jokes.”

“I’m not joking,” Jungkook said, squeezing his hand gently. “You’re the one turning red.”

“I’m not!”

“You are. It’s cute.”

Jimin groaned like the forest might just open up and swallow him.

The hike began, couples filing into a loose line along the narrow trail. Leaves crunched beneath their feet, birds chirped above, and Jimin tried not to overthink the way Jungkook’s thumb kept brushing across his knuckles like it meant something.

Behind them, Namjoon and Yoongi were already in full mock-therapy mode.

“See, Hyuk, if you let me lead, we wouldn’t have almost walked into that branch,” Namjoon scolded.

“If you’d let go of my hand for one second, I would’ve ducked, genius.”

Jungkook chuckled. “At least we’re not the most dysfunctional couple on this trail.”

“We’re not a couple.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” His friend looked down at their still-linked hands.

The trail narrowed as they climbed deeper into the woods, trees arching overhead in a canopy of filtered sunlight. It would’ve been scenic, peaceful even..

Every ten seconds, he considered letting go of the hand, but every time he did, Jungkook would gently squeeze it. Not tightly. Just a soft reminder that he was there.

“You okay?” he asked, voice light, teasing but not unkind.

“I’m fine,” Jimin replied, eyes fixed ahead. “Just enjoying being tethered like a golden retriever.”

“You say that like you wouldn’t make an adorable golden retriever.”

Jimin didn’t answer, mostly because his brain had short-circuited and he couldn’t remember how words worked.

About twenty minutes in, the trail got steeper, the footing a little trickier. Couples around them navigated carefully, and Namjoon’s voice drifted back from a few meters ahead.

“If one of us slips, we go down together,” he was saying helpfully.

Yoongi grunted. “I despise your ass.”

“You adore me, suga puff.”

Jungkook snorted. “We could take them in a three-legged race.”

“Focus,” Jimin hissed, stepping over a root—right before catching his toe on a second root hiding in the dirt. Rude.

His foot slipped.

It happened fast: a lurch forward, a startled yelp, and then strong arms grabbing his waist, steadying him. His hands landed on Jungkook’s chest, and for just a second they froze.

Jungkook’s voice, low and close: “You good?”

Jimin gave an embarrassed nod. “Fine. Normal. Just almost faceplanted in front of the fake gays.”

His companion’s mouth twitched. “Could’ve been romantic.”

“Shut up.”

Still, he didn’t move back right away. And neither did his parter in crime.

Then, mercifully, Yoongi’s voice cut through the trees. “HEY. Are you guys making out or what? You’re holding up the line.”

Jimin scrambled backward like he’d been set on fire. “We’re coming! Nothing happened!”

Jungkook, unbothered as ever, reached for his hand again. “You know, if we did kiss, it’d really sell the act. Like in a drama.”

Jimin smacked his shoulder with the back of his free hand. “You’re the worst.”

And yet—he didn’t let go.

They were supposed to be following the trail markers.

Jimin swore they had been.

One minute, they were just a few steps behind Namjoon and Yoongi, and the next—they were very much not.

"Is this the right way?" Jimin asked, eyes darting between trees. Everything looked aggressively pine-flavored and identical.

Jungkook tilted his head. “I mean… it was a trail. A trail is a trail, right?”

“That sounds like something someone says right before they get eaten by a bear.”

“You think there are bears here?”

“Don’t say that!”

Jungkook chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. “Relax. We’re not that lost. Besides, I’ve got signal. I could call Namjoon.”

Jimin narrowed his eyes. “Why haven’t you done that already?”

“Because we’re alone in the woods and I’m enjoying the ambiance.”

“Jungkook.”

“JiMiN!?”

They stared at each other in mutual annoyance that was rapidly spiraling into something softer. The quiet between them this time felt different. Less awkward, more warm.

The kind of silence that settles when there’s no pressure to fill it.

A breeze rustled the leaves around them, and the sound of laughter from another group floated through the trees. Not that far. They weren’t that lost.

Jungkook looked over, eyes twinkling. “Admit it. This is kind of nice.”

Jimin grumbled but didn’t disagree.

After a few more minutes of—Jimin-initiated—mild panic and backtracking, they finally spotted the group up ahead at the rest stop: a clearing with benches, water, and a perfect view of the mountain ridge. Namjoon was waving lazily, like he hadn’t even noticed they’d vanished.

Yoongi, however, gave them both a look. “You two get distracted making out behind a tree? I told they would sooner or later,” he said, grinning toward Namjoon, who was standing aside a few feet.

Jimin, for what felt like the fiftieth time that day, rolled his eyes a little too enthusiastically. “No! We just took a wrong turn.”

Namjoon sipped from his water bottle. “Must’ve been a scenic route.”

Jungkook tossed himself dramatically onto one of the benches, patting the space next to him. “Well. We’re here now. And look at that view.”

Jimin sat down cautiously, arms crossed. The mountains stretched out in front of them, sun casting golden light over the tree line. “Put the mirror away, Kookie, you’re being silly!”

Jungkook chuckled and nudged his elbow. “See? Not so bad.”

“Getting lost wasn’t on the itinerary,” Jimin muttered, but he was smiling peacefully.

Then, without warning, his friend reached over and gently brushed a leaf out of his hair.

“Got something,” he said casually and Jimin froze.

Jungkook didn’t even mean anything by it—probably—but Jimin was suddenly hyper-aware of how gentle the touch was, how natural it felt.

He cleared his throat, suddenly needing a distraction. “How long until we’re done with this hike?”

His neighbor just smiled. “Not long enough.”

After a short break and way too many annoying knowing looks from Namjoon, the retreat guide clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention.

“Alright, lovebirds! Next up—we’re doing trust exercises.”

Jimin raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t this whole relationship a trust exercise?”

“Facts,” Yoongi muttered while already dragging himself up.

The group moved to a flatter part of the summit, overlooking a jaw-dropping vista of forest and sky. A gentle wind picked up, rustling through jackets and making the entire moment feel suspiciously cinematic.

“Alright, pair up,” the instructor called. “Classic trust fall. One partner stands behind the other and catches them. Simple. You fall, they catch. Switch after.”

Jimin let out a quiet sigh and looked at Jungkook.

“You dropping me would be so on-brand,” he muttered as he turned his back.

“I would never drop my boyfriend,” he replied with a wink. “C’mon. Fall for me, baby girl.”

Jimin groaned audibly. “You’ve been waiting all day to say that.”

“Hours.”

Falling backwards, even knowing someone’s there, always made him tense—but the second he let go, Jungkook’s arms caught him like a safety net.

Steady. Familiar.

It wasn’t a big moment. There was no dramatic gasp, no stumble.

Just the warmth of his chest at his back and his voice, soft by his ear: “See? Gotcha."

And something in Jimin’s chest eased, just a little. He stood there a moment longer than he needed to.

When it was time to take turns, the younger didn’t even hesitate. He fell back without hesitation, like he knew his friend would never let him fall.

And he didn’t.

As the group finished and the sun started to dip toward afternoon gold, Jimin walked next to him down the trail with his hands tucked in his pockets, trying not to think about how comfortable it had felt.

It was probably just the setting.

The post-hike picnic was cute, if you asked literally anyone who wasn’t trying very hard not to hyper-analyze the way Jungkook had offered him water and quietly rearranged the blanket so he didn’t sit directly on a rock.

Normal behavior. Boyfriends being boyfriend-y.

The hike back down, though—that’s when things got complicated.

They were halfway down the slope when Jimin stepped wrong on a patch of uneven ground. It wasn’t dramatic—just a sudden twist and a hiss of pain through clenched teeth.

Jungkook noticed right away. “You okay, baby?”

Jimin waved him off. “Just—ugh. I think I rolled my ankle.”

Namjoon turned back, brow furrowed. “Want us to wait?”

“No, no,” Jimin waved off quickly. “You guys go ahead. I’ll walk it off.”

Yoongi raised a skeptical brow, but Jungkook cut in before anyone else could argue. “I’ll stay with him. Go on—we’ll catch up.”

The others hesitated, but eventually moved on, the sound of their voices fading into the trees. Once they were alone, Jungkook turned to him with a lopsided smile. “So. Plan?”

Jimin took a careful step and winced. “New plan: regret.”

Without another word, Jungkook crouched in front of him, glancing back over his shoulder. “C’mon.”

Jimin blinked. “What?”

“Piggyback. It’s either this or I actually princess-carry you down the mountain, Cinderella.”

“That’s not necessary—”

“You want to limp dramatically into dinner with the entire retreat watching?”

Jimin groaned but relented, muttering a very weak, “Alright, but don’t drop me,” as he wrapped his arms around Jungkook’s shoulders and let himself be lifted.

He was warm. And far too comfortable.

“Wow,” Jungkook said after a beat. “You smell like bamboo and citrus.”

“It’s my hair treatment,” Jimin mumbled into his neck. “Shut up.”

“Alright, hold on, little panda, 

They walked in silence for a bit, broken only by birds and the distant rustle of leaves. The forest had started to shift—sunlight slipping away, shadows stretching longer.

After a while, Jimin frowned. “This… isn’t the way we came.”

Jungkook stopped. “...It’s not?”

Jimin slowly lifted his head. “You got us lost again?!”

“Hey! I was focusing on not dropping you. That takes skill, okay?”

“Oh my god—we’re gonna have to camp out in the woods and eat moss.”

Jungkook laughed, clearly unbothered. “Could be romantic. You, me, sharing an emergency granola bar.”

Jimin groaned. “We’re gonna die and it’ll be your fault.”

“I’ll take full responsibility. Want me to start a fire with two sticks?”

“You wouldn’t even know which sticks.”

“But I’d try. For you.”

Jimin was silent, clutching Jungkook’s shoulders, and very determined not to think about how safe he felt. Not now. Not while they were actually lost in the woods at sunset.

Though… if they were going to get lost with anyone—Jungkook didn’t seem like the worst option.

It was getting darker. The soft, amber light of the late afternoon was slipping away, leaving the trees around them bathed in shadows. They’d wandered for what felt like hours, but the winding paths and dense woods all looked the same.

Jimin, who had been trying his best to keep it together, finally admitted defeat. “Okay, we’re definitely lost.”

“No, we’re not,” Jungkook insisted, his voice a little higher than usual. He was scanning the trees, checking his phone every few seconds. “We’ll find the trail. It’s just around here. Hold on.”

Jimin stayed quiet, watching him for any sign that he was losing it, but Jungkook was being annoyingly optimistic. The fact that he was checking his phone with such intensity, knowing there was no signal, didn’t escape him.

Jungkook let out a low sigh, visibly frustrated now. “Damnit, why is there no signal?”

“Probably because we’re in the middle of nowhere,” Jimin said, trying to keep his voice light. He could feel his heart rate starting to pick up, his own fear settling into his chest like an unwanted guest. “I told you we should’ve paid more attention when we were on the way up.”

“We’ll be fine,” his friend said, but the cracks in his voice were noticeable now. “It’s not that bad. We’ll just... we’ll just retrace our steps.”

Jimin swallowed hard, looking around at the now unfamiliar woods. It was getting colder, the chill in the air sinking into his skin. The sound of the forest had changed too—quieter now, like it was holding its breath.

“I don’t think retracing our steps is gonna work. We’ve gone too far.” Jimin was trying to sound casual. But his words felt like they were shattering in the air. He could feel the tension in Jungkook’s shoulders. His breathing was a little quicker now, and Jimin knew that his friend was struggling.

He caught his eyes and tried to smile. “It’s okay, we’ll figure it out, Kookie. We always do, right? We’ll get back to the cottage before dark. No big deal.”

Jungkook managed a tight smile. “Yeah. Yeah, we will.”

The silence hung between them for a few moments before his voice broke the quiet again, low and hesitant. “You know... I’m not a huge fan of the dark.”

Jimin’s heart lurched. He’d known about it, but hearing him admit it out loud made it feel real.

“Me neither,” Jimin admitted, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice. “But... we’re together, that’s gotta count for something.”

Jungkook looked at him, something in his eyes that he couldn’t quite place, and for a second, it felt like the world was holding still. His companion opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but then he looked away quickly, focusing on their surroundings.

“We’ll be okay,” Jungkook said, but the words came out more to reassure himself.

Jimin cleared his throat, trying to distract himself—and Jungkook—from the rising panic that was beginning to settle in his chest. He forced a smile, though it felt weak. “What do normal couples do when they’re lost in the woods? Hold hands and cuddle under the stars? Start a fire with two sticks?”

His friend snorted, though his laugh didn’t quite reach his eyes. “No one actually knows how to start a fire with two sticks.”

“Don’t ruin my survival fantasy,” Jimin teased, though the humor felt thin. “Okay, how about we pretend we’re just on a very exclusive date—one that’s conveniently located off the grid.”

“I’m really starting to regret not paying for a map,” Jungkook mumbled, his voice a little shaky now. “This is your fault, you know.”

“My fault? Excuse me?”

“Yeah. You and your dumb idea of a ‘perfectly normal’ retreat.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault we’re lost in the woods now, huh?”

They both fell silent, the joke hanging weakly between them. It was starting to feel a lot less funny. They weren’t laughing anymore. The woods were darker now, the shadows more oppressive.

Jimin took a deep breath, turning to face him again. “Okay, look. Let’s stay calm. What’s the worst that could happen? We get lost? We sleep under the stars? We—”

“We die from exposure?” Jungkook finished, his voice quieter than it had been.

Jimin’s breath caught in his throat, but he forced himself to stay calm. “No. We don’t die. We’re fine, it's still summer… for a bit.”

Jungkook’s gaze softened as he looked at him. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Jimin’s heart skipped a beat. He wanted to say something reassuring, something to make this all feel normal again, but all that came out was, “I’m not going anywhere without you.”

Jungkook’s eyes lingered on him a moment longer before he gave a small nod. “Okay. We’ll just... keep going. We’ll find our way back.”

As the sun finally slipped below the horizon, the darkness settled around them like a heavy blanket. They were lost. But at least they weren’t completely alone.

Jimin finally collapsed onto the bench, his foot throbbing with every pulse. It wasn’t a sprain or anything too serious, but it was enough to keep him from walking. Making him feel like a complete burden. He had to stop, had to rest. But now, the quiet woods and the growing darkness felt like they were closing in around them.

“Okay, no more walking for me,” Jimin said with a grimace, wincing as he shifted to get comfortable on the bench.

Jungkook didn’t respond, instead pulling off his backpack and rummaging through it. “You need anything? Water? More snacks?”

“No, just... no more hiking for today,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes, feeling the weight of everything piling up on him.

“Fair enough,” his friend said, sitting beside him on the bench, but not too close. There was a quiet pause between them before Jungkook spoke again, his voice soft, almost hesitant. "You okay?"

Jimin’s gaze flicked up, but he didn’t quite meet his eyes. He could tell Jungkook was trying to keep it together, though there was that faint tremor in his voice. 

He felt the same way. “I don’t know,” Jimin admitted, feeling the weight of the situation press in around them. The warmth of the day had faded, replaced by the cold bite of night. "This is... not how I thought our ‘bro-bonding’ weekend would go."

Jungkook snorted quietly. “Yeah, this definitely wasn’t on the brochure.”

Jimin laughed softly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. The trees around them loomed taller and darker now, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch toward them like grasping fingers. He could hear the night animals rustling, the wind whistling through the branches.

“What if there are wolves?” he said out of nowhere, his voice a little higher than he intended.

Jungkook shot him a side-eye. "Wolves? Really? You think there are wolves out here?" He tried to hide the slight anxiety in his voice. “Well, wolves are just... big dogs, right?”

“I don’t think that’s how wolves work.”

“Okay, okay, no wolves. No bears,” Jungkook said, visibly trying to reassure them both. But his voice wavered at the end. “I’m sure the others will find us, Chimchim. They know we’re out here.”

Were they already looking for them? Did they even notice they were missing?

“I just... really don’t want to sleep out here,” Jimin confessed, looking around at the trees, the endless dark stretching in every direction. He felt exposed in a way that made his chest tighten. “What if it gets worse?”

There was a long silence before he spoke, his voice lower, a bit more serious than Jimin was used to. “We’ll be fine. I’m here.”

Jimin turned toward him, feeling the warmth of his words sinking in. It was strange—comforting, even. Now here he was, being the calm in the storm.

“I know,” he said softly, looking at his foot again. “I just... hope they’re looking for us by now. Namjoon and Yoongi should have noticed by now, right?”

“Yeah...” Jungkook’s eyes flickered with anxiety. He was trying hard not to show it, but he could see the edge creeping into his movements. 

The night was really starting to close in now. He glanced at Jungkook, who was pulling his jacket tighter, his hands clutching his sleeves a little too tightly. His mind was racing, just like Jimin’s, but they both knew it was better to keep calm, keep talking, and distract each other.

The night stretched on, the shadows of the forest growing darker as the hours passed. Jimin could feel the weight of the cold creeping into his bones, the discomfort of sitting on the bench while his foot throbbed, and the uncertainty of their situation pressing on his chest. 

Every time he tried to speak, his voice faltered, worn thin by the exhaustion of both mind and body.

His friend sat beside him, never straying too far, his eyes darting around the dark, always alert. His posture was tense, but every time Jimin would glance over at him, he would give a small, reassuring smile.

“You okay?” he asked quietly for what felt like the hundredth time.

Jimin nodded, even though he wasn’t sure if he was. “I’m fine. Just... tired.” He didn’t want to worry him more than he already was. But the weight of the night, the silence, the cold—it all started to become too much.

Jungkook let out a long breath. “Me too.”

Jimin’s eyes grew heavy, exhaustion taking its toll. He leaned back against the bench, trying to keep his foot elevated but too tired to care about much else. Jungkook shifted beside him, turning slightly so that their sides brushed together.

There was a moment where the anxiety, the fear, and the exhaustion collided. He had been strong all night, but Jimin could see the edge of his own worry slipping through his calm facade.

The woods, the looming danger of being lost in the dark, everything outside of this moment faded away as Jimin felt Jungkook shift closer. He wasn’t sure how it happened, but somehow, he ended up with his arm around him.

It wasn’t anything more than a simple gesture, yet it felt like the most intimate thing he could have asked for in that moment.

His head gently rested on Jungkook’s shoulder, the warmth of his body a small comfort against the chill night air. Jimin’s eyelids fluttered closed, the exhaustion of the day finally winning.

His friend didn’t say anything more, but he could feel the steadiness of his presence, his heartbeat against his own. It wasn’t a romantic gesture, not really. It was just... comfort. 

“Get some sleep, I‘ll stay awake,” Jungkook murmured after a long silence, his voice soft in his ear. Jimin’s lips parted in a small smile.

The night stretched on, but his breath slowed, and his body finally relaxed, the stress of the last few hours ebbing away. Jungkook stayed close, his warmth anchoring him through the long hours, making the dark woods feel a little less isolating.

The first light of dawn peeked through the trees, a soft pinkish glow that painted the sky and turned the forest from dark and menacing to calm and almost serene. Jimin shifted in his sleep, the reality of his situation still not fully hitting him.

It wasn’t until he heard the sound of voices in the distance, faint but unmistakable, that he finally stirred.

“Jimin? Jungkook?”

Namjoon’s voice rang out, unmistakable and loud, filled with worry and relief.

He blinked his eyes open, slowly lifting his head from Jungkook’s shoulder. His face was still turned toward him, and he was still holding him close, though he hadn’t realized it himself.

“Hyung?” he mumbled, still half-asleep.

“We found them!” Namjoon’s voice grew louder as he came closer, and Jimin could hear the clinking of boots against the ground as he and Yoongi approached.

He felt a weight lift off his chest at the sound of their voices. He wanted to jump up, but his foot throbbed, and his body still felt like it was made of lead. Jungkook noticed it immediately and slowly pulled away, looking up.

“Over here!” he called out, his voice surprisingly calm for someone who had just spent the night in the woods with no clear way out.

It wasn’t long before they burst into view, their faces etched with worry and fatigue. Namjoon’s eyes were wide, and Yoongi was scowling, but he could see the relief in both their expressions.

“Jimin!” Namjoon exclaimed, rushing over to him. “We’ve been looking for you two all night! Are you okay? We were hella worried!”

Yoongi didn’t say anything at first, but his gaze softened when he saw Jimin’s foot. “You okay, Dooly?”

“I’m fine, hyung,” he replied with a tired smile as a quiet sob fled his throat. “Just... a little beat up.”

Jungkook helped him sit up and supported him as he stood, still a little shaky on his feet. “We’re okay,” he reassured them, though his own tiredness was evident in his voice.

Namjoon and Yoongi exchanged a look, clearly relieved but still visibly shaken. “You two are lucky,” latter said, his usual gruff tone softened by concern. “But that was too close for comfort.”

Jimin managed a weak chuckle. “I guess we were that one couple who got lost.”

Namjoon sighed, shaking his head but smiling. “Just don’t do it again, alright?”

Jungkook gave Jimin a sidelong glance, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“No promises.”

“Alright, morons,” Namjoon sighed, relief still evident in his voice, “Let’s get you back and get some rest.”

Together they began their descent and for the first time in hours, Jimin allowed himself to relax—they were finally safe.

Chapter Text

Jimin woke up feeling… weirdly warm.

It took him all of three seconds to realize he wasn’t on the floor like he’d planned (and failed at). No. He was on the bed. The same bed Jungkook had flopped into the night before, smug and dramatic, claiming he was “being an excellent boyfriend.”

Jimin groaned, rolled over, and clutched his pillow in mild shame. He must’ve crawled up there sometime in the night. Maybe when the fire died down. Maybe when his back started threatening to sue. Maybe when he thought Jungkook wouldn’t notice.

He probably already had. 

He sat outside on the porch, legs kicked up on the railing, sipping tea and staring at the trees like he belonged in a lifestyle magazine. Hair fluffy, sweatshirt oversized, the picture of peace.

Jimin dragged himself out of bed with a sigh that could rival any horror soundtrack, threw on a hoodie, and opened the sliding door.

His friend turned, smiled like the human embodiment of “good morning, sunshine,” and said, “Well, well. Look who chose spinal health over pride.”

“Shut up,” Jimin muttered, flopping into the chair beside him. “It was the cold. I didn’t want to get hypothermia and ruin the boyfriend-fantasy.”

“You’re so thoughtful,” Jungkook grinned, handing him a mug of coffee he clearly prepared in advance. “Truly the perfect partner.”

“Don’t push it.”

A phone buzzed. It was the schedule for the day. Jimin squinted at the screen and choked. “Couples yoga?”

“Oh, yeah.” Jungkook sipped calmly. “You better stretch, shorty. We‘re about to get real close.”

They arrived at the breakfast hall, where the buffet was suspiciously heart-shaped and the table centerpieces included rose petals. It was 9 a.m. Jimin was not emotionally equipped for this.

And then he saw it.

Namjoon. Gracefully holding a grape above Yoongi’s face. Yoongi, visibly dead inside, reluctantly let him feed it to him — eyes daring anyone to say something.

“Is this... happening?” Jimin mumbled, wide-eyed.

“Good morning, lovebirds!” the leader waved.

Yoongi just sighed and said, “Get out while you still can,” though he clearly enjoyed himself.

Jungkook snorted. “You’re the one getting hand-fed like a Victorian nobleman.”

Namjoon shrugged, popping another grape toward Yoongi’s mouth. “It’s about the performance. We are deeply committed to the bit.”

The eldest, under his breath: “I’m here for the food. Did you guys even sleep after last night? You looked exhausted.“

“We‘re idols,” Jungkook said flatly. “We‘re thriving on low energy.”

Yoongi nodded. He understood.

Jimin sank into his seat. “This place is going to kill me.”

Namjoon beamed. “You’ll thank us by the end of the week. Speaking of— you’re going to love this morning’s class.”

“My chakras are already in pain,” Yoongi groaned.

Jimin stared at his coffee like it might swallow him whole. Jungkook, of course, was already reaching for the grapes.

Jimin sank deeper into his seat, cradling his coffee like it was the only thing tethering him to this reality.

Yoongi eyed him over the rim of his mug. “Ankle still alive?”

He nodded, cautiously flexing it under the table. “Better. I iced it overnight. The paramedic said it was just a mild sprain. Nothing serious.”

“Mild sprain after getting lost in the woods for hours?” Namjoon raised a brow. 

Jungkook, chewing on a fish cake, offered a shrug. “We had a bonding moment. He fell asleep on me. Very couple-core.”

“I was injured,” Jimin shot back, narrowing his eyes. “And cold. And trying not to die.”

Yoongi didn’t even blink. “Sounds like a date.”

Namjoon grinned. “It was very romantic. You should’ve seen how worried that dude looked when we found you.”

Jungkook just grinned and bumped Jimin’s shoulder lightly. “You’re welcome for saving your life, by the way.”

“I will throw this coffee at you,” Jimin said sweetly, sipping instead.

“Ah, young love.” Namjoon clasped his hands together dramatically. 

Half an hour after breakfast, they arrived at the Outdoor Pavilion — soft yoga mats laid out, calming spa music playing, birds chirping too cheerfully.

Jimin was not emotionally ready for this.

The yoga instructor was glowing. Voice like a lullaby, posture like she had ascended past all mortal worries. “Welcome, beautiful couples,” she sang, hands pressed together in prayer pose. “Today’s session is about trust, connection, and moving as one.”

Jimin glanced at Jungkook like help me, but he just smiled lazily and started toeing off his shoes like this was a Sunday picnic.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Jimin muttered, sitting gingerly on the mat.

“You survived a night in the woods. You can survive me holding your hips,” his partner replied with zero shame.

Jimin choked. “Why would you say it like that?”

On one side of the mat, Jungkook started stretching with the lazy grace of someone who definitely knew he looked good doing it. His t-shirt slipped just a little as he reached over his head, revealing a sliver of abs that glinted in the light like a personal attack.

Jimin stared for a beat too long.

The hyungs, a few mats down, were mid-bicker. “I’m more flexible,” Yoongi muttered, not bothering to hide his smugness.

“You just refuse to do anything involving hamstrings,” Namjoon huffed.

“You lift with your neck, Joon.”

“That was one time.”

The instructor clapped gently. “Let’s begin with a breathing exercise,” she said, clasping her hands. “Face each other. Sit cross-legged. Knees touching. Eyes locked. Breathe in…”

Jimin sat stiffly, crossing his legs and locking eyes with Jungkook like a hostage.

He, of course, was annoyingly calm. Hands resting on his knees like he was meditating, not staring into the soul of his very flustered friend.

“Your hands are warm,” Jimin blurted, almost whispering.

Jungkook raised a brow, lips twitching. “Why are you breathing so hard?”

“I’m not,” he lied.

The instructor drifted by like a peaceful ghost. “Let your energy synchronize,” she said. “Let love flow between you.”

Jimin nearly combusted.

Later, they were guided into paired poses — ones that required trust, balance, and a lot more contact than he was emotionally prepared for.

They sat back-to-back for the breathing sync, and his entire spine lit up at the contact. 

Jungkook was warm. Solid. His exhales matched Jimin’s in a way that felt uncomfortably intimate. Too smooth. Too natural, all calm focus and steady presence, like a zen statue made of mischief and biceps.

Jungkook’s arms circled his waist as they shifted into a back to chest pose. He could feel the strength behind him, steady and warm, and despite himself... he relaxed just a little.

“You’re actually good at this,” he mumbled.

“I carry you through life on a regular basis,” Jungkook replied. “This is just more literal.”

Jimin snorted.

Then: Mirror stretches.

He tried not to look at Jungkook’s face too much. His focused expression, the slight furrow of his brow, the way his hands mirrored Jimin’s perfectly — it was a lot.

He was suddenly aware of every inch of space between them.

They shifted into an Assisted Forward Fold, Jungkook holding his hands, gently guiding him.

“Relax,” he said under his breath. “I’ve got you.”

Jimin’s brain promptly shut off. He mumbled something that might have been “thanks” or “kill me now,” unclear.

Then the Seated Heart Opener.

He sat between Jungkook’s legs, arms lifted, stretched outward in tandem. The instructor walked past and murmured, “Now, hold each other’s gaze. Feel the connection. Let it ground you.”

Jimin turned his head. His partner was already looking at him. Of course he was.

His eyes were calm, centered, and completely unreadable. His gaze didn’t waver — not even a twitch — while Jimin’s entire soul tried to flee his body via embarrassment.

He choked on air and nearly toppled out of the pose.

“Hyung,” Jungkook added, utterly composed, “you said to act like we’re in love. You’re cheating.”

Their final pose involved standing, palm to palm, leaning into each other in balance.

“Eye contact is key,” the instructor reminded them gently. “You should feel like the only two people in the world.” 

Jungkook looked like he was doing a magazine shoot. Calm, sweet, and focused entirely on him.

“Hyung,” he murmured, “you can stop looking like you’re being interrogated.”

“I’m not used to this,” Jimin muttered back.

“What, touching me? Liar!”

“Touching you in front of everyone while a flute plays in the background,” he said through his teeth.

Jungkook laughed, soft and genuine, and something in Jimin’s chest went all floaty and weird.

As they walked off their mats after the session, Jimin felt flushed and suspiciously breathless — and not just from the stretches.

“You did great, Chim,” his friend said, nudging him with his elbow. “Very believable romance vibes.”

He just glared. “Don’t get cocky.”

“I’m just saying. If this were a drama, this would be the moment the audience starts shipping us.”

Jimin froze for a second, then kept walking. “You’ve been thinking about this far too much.”

“Mh…Maybe.”

By a way-too-cozy bench outside the yoga pavilion, tucked under a canopy of trees, Jimin was gulping water like he had just run a marathon. Jungkook was far too relaxed, stretching like a smug cat.

Jimin flopped onto the bench, still red faced. “I can’t believe that was real. Why did her hands smell like bamboo?”

“She was healing your spirit… like your hair,” Jungkook said serenely, tossing a grape into his mouth.

“She’s exposing my spirit,” he hissed. “And also making us do a whole drama episode in public.”

Jungkook shrugged, clearly enjoying himself. “Come on. You liked it a little. You smiled.”

“I smiled because you nearly dropped me, twice.”

“I was testing your trust.”

“I don’t trust anyone whose arms feel that comfortable around me,” Jimin muttered.

His friend leaned back, arms draped along the back of the bench. “So you do think I’m comfortable. Progress.”

Jimin side-eyed him. “You’re impossible.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

Jimin groaned into his hands. 

Just as they were heading back toward the cottage, Namjoon and Yoongi emerged from behind some trees.

Namjoon was all bright smiles. “Ah, the lovebirds!”

Yoongi raised an eyebrow at them. “You two looked very connected back there.”

“Please stop saying things like that. My blood pressure can’t take it, hyung,” Jimin sighed.

Jungkook saluted them lazily. “Did we pass the boyfriend test?”

Namjoon pretended to think. “You’re doing better than expected. The hand-on-heart pose was pretty convincing.”

Jimin crossed his arms. “I was trying not to fall over and die.”

Yoongi chuckled. “That’s the spirit.”

Namjoon, holding back laughter, said, “Anyway, heads up — next activity is in two hours. Something less... entangled. A compatibility quiz. Couple-style. In front of everyone. So, better get your story straight.”

Jimin’s mouth fell open. “Like... questions?”

He nodded. “To see how well you know each other and stuff.”

Yoongi added, unimpressed, “It’s really not that deep. Unless you get all the answers wrong and look like frauds.”

Jungkook grinned. “We’ve basically lived together for a decade. We got this.”

Jimin, horrified, looked between them. “Why is this retreat suddenly a game show?”

Yoongi patted him on the shoulder. “Just don’t forget your lover’s favorite midnight snack and what side of the bed he sleeps on.”

Namjoon, already walking away, called over his shoulder, “We’ll save you seats. Try not to implode before then!”

In between activities, the couples were free to explore or relax. The friends wandered down a quieter path and ended up by the water, the sun glinting off the surface.

They found a spot on a flat boulder near the edge of the lake. It was calm here. Birds chirped lazily overhead, and the breeze carried the fresh scent of pine and wildflowers.

Jimin dipped his fingers into the cool water, rolling his ankle a little and wincing. “Still sore, but better,” he mumbled. “Maybe I’ll survive the rest of the week.”

Jungkook, sitting beside him with his arms propped behind him, glanced over. “I could carry you everywhere. That’s what boyfriends do, right?”

“Not everything is a boyfriend bit,” Jimin muttered, trying not to smile.

There was a moment of quiet — not awkward this time. Just peaceful. The kind that let things settle between them.

“I like it here,” his partner in crime said, quieter than before. “It’s... slower.”

Jimin nodded. “We needed this, didn’t we?”

Jungkook looked at him then and Jimin felt him, like a pulse under the skin. Something unspoken. Something maybe neither of them dared to say out loud.

But Jungkook just replied, “Yeah,” and leaned back again, letting the sun hit his face.

However, the moment shifted as a couple passed nearby. They waved, beaming at them.

“You two are so cute together!” the young woman said, clasping her hands.

Jimin blinked. “Oh—um, thank you…”

The couple walked off before he could stammer anything else, and he slowly turned to Jungkook, who was already smirking.

“See?” he said, clearly enjoying himself. “Believable. I told you.”

Jimin groaned, face in his hands. “Why does everyone think we’re dating?”

His friend blinked at him. “That’s the whole point, duh.”

Jimin lowered his hands just enough to glare at him. “That’s the problem.”

Jungkook just stretched, catlike again. “Relax, shorty. We’re killing it.”

He huffed, but it was half-hearted. The warmth of the sun, the lake, the compliment — it all made things feel dangerously easy. Comfortable.

And maybe that was the scariest part.

The garden glowed under a canopy of fairy lights, warm and golden as the late afternoon settled in. The retreat organizers had really gone all out — wicker lanterns lined the paths, soft instrumental music hummed through hidden speakers, and everything smelled faintly of citrus candles.

Jimin adjusted the hem of his cardigan for the third time, trying to pretend he wasn’t thinking about how his ankle still ached or how weirdly close they had been all day. He swirled his cocktail absently, pretending to be chill. 

Across from them, Namjoon and Yoongi were already halfway through their Compatibility Quiz. They lounged on a cushioned bench like it was just another Tuesday.

“Who usually says ‘I love you’ first?” and “What’s their favorite comfort food?” — both answered with deadpan confidence and the smugness of faux-dating veterans.

“Mint chocolate,” Yoongi answered without pause.

Namjoon grinned. “Wrong. It’s your favorite. Mine is anything I don’t have to cook.”

Yoongi sipped his drink. “Same thing.”

The group laughed. Jimin clenched his glass.

Jungkook, beside him, was relaxed — legs stretched out, drink in hand, watching the exchange like it was a variety show. He nudged him with his knee under the table.

“You okay?” he murmured. “Your drink hasn’t even moved.”

Jimin forced a smile and took a sip. Sweet with a kick. Just like his life right now.

“Who usually apologizes first after a fight?” the retreat staffer asked.

Namjoon raised a brow at Yoongi. “Well—”

“Me,” Yoongi said flatly, then lifted his drink. “Next.”

The table laughed again. Namjoon smiled like a man who knew better than to argue.

Jimin exhaled. “They’re really good at this.”

“They’ve had practice,” Jungkook grinned lightly. “Fake dating is basically a team sport for them.”

Jimin eyed him. “That’s comforting.”

Then it was their turn.

The staffer gestured grandly. “Alright, next couple! Let’s see how well you know each other.”

Jimin straightened slightly. Jungkook leaned back in his seat, still way too comfortable. Like it was a game. Like he didn’t realize Jimin’s heart was already pounding.

First question: What’s his favorite season?

“Autumn,” Jungkook said immediately.

Jimin blinked at him.

“You always say it’s ‘sweater weather with a mood.’ It’s all about the layering.”

Jimin flushed. “I’ve said that once.”

“And you post fall selfies every year like it’s a sponsored campaign,” he added, grinning.

Next: What’s his biggest fear?

Jimin hesitated, about to deflect, but Jungkook glanced at him with a quiet kind of softness. Jimin swallowed.

“Being alone,” he mumbled.

His neighbor, still looking at him, said, “Same.”

There was a pause.

Yoongi shifted awkwardly in his seat. “Wow. Okay.”

Next: Go-to karaoke song?

They answered in unison: “I Need U.”

Jimin snorted. “It’s because we both scream the bridge like we’re being exorcised.”

Jungkook laughed. “It’s cathartic.” It was.

Next: Dream vacation? 

Somewhere in the mountains, preferably snowed in.

Morning or night person? 

Jungkook answered, “He wakes up early but acts like he hates mornings so no one bothers him.”

Jimin replied, “He goes to bed at 3 a.m. watching videos of dogs rescuing other dogs… He’s that kind of person.”

More laughter. 

The other couples were listening now, a few of them leaning in like they were genuinely impressed. Jimin’s pulse fluttered.

He glanced at his friend, who wasn’t even trying to look charming. He just was. Relaxed, confident, like he wasn’t even aware that everything he said was chipping away at Jimin’s carefully built walls.

What’s one thing you admire most about him?

The air shifted.

Jimin opened his mouth, scrambling for a safe answer — something funny, something easy.

But Jungkook got there first.

“His heart,” he said, voice low but sure. “He’s generous, sweet. Like, to a fault. He gives everything — time, energy, love — even when he doesn’t think he’s doing anything special.”

The quiet that followed wasn’t awkward. It was stunned.

For a moment Jimin forgot how to breathe. His hands felt cold even though his face was on fire. He opened his mouth to reply, but nothing smart or safe came out.

“…I was gonna say your biceps,” he croaked.

Jungkook laughed, and the tension broke like sunlight through clouds.

The staff clapped. “Well, if that wasn’t the softest answer we’ve heard today.”

“Gross,” Yoongi muttered, but he was smirking.

Jimin stayed quiet as they wrapped up, still holding onto that one sentence. It echoed in his head — He’s generous. Even when he doesn’t think he’s doing anything special.

And when Jungkook glanced over and smiled at him — small, private, almost shy — Jimin forgot why he’d need to say anything at all.

He took a deep breath, his mind racing with the things he couldn’t quite put into words. He watched as Namjoon took a sip from his drink, looking as relaxed as ever. After a pause, Jimin couldn’t help but ask.

“So… you and Yoongi. You two, uh, act like this all the time?” His words came out a little unsure, but the curiosity behind them was undeniable.

Namjoon raised an eyebrow, clearly catching on. He set his drink down and leaned back in his chair, casually crossing his arms. “What do you mean by ‘act like this’?”

Jimin shifted, fumbling slightly with his words. “You know, like... how you two are always comfortable with each other. You held hands, joked around, all that. How did you—how did you do that? I mean, wasn’t it weird?”

Namjoon chuckled softly, but there was no trace of judgment in his expression.

“Oh, I see what you mean.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “It isn’t weird to us because it’s always just been that way. We’ve been close, like brothers, for years. Yoongi and I… we’ve been through a lot together. We’re comfortable with each other in ways others may not.”

Jimin listened intently, but the question still lingered in his mind. “But how do you… not overthink it? How do you keep it so chill?”

Namjoon shrugged casually, his voice full of easy confidence. “I think it’s about not being afraid of the bond we have. Masculinity doesn’t have to be rigid, and neither does sexuality. It’s not about what other people think. It’s about knowing who you are and being comfortable with it. Yoongi and I don’t think twice about it. We’ve always been this way behind the scenes, and there’s no shame in it.”

Jimin nodded slowly, trying to process the words. He felt the weight of his casual comfort with everything, and it made him wonder if maybe he had been overthinking his own connection with Jungkook. Maybe it didn’t have to be this confusing.

Namjoon stood up, brushing off his pants. “Anyway, we should join the others, they’re probably already waiting on us.” He patted Jimin on the back, a warm, reassuring gesture. 

“Don’t worry. You don’t have to have it all figured out. Just let things be what they are. You’re doing fine.”

He watched Namjoon walk over toward the bar where Yoongi was already waiting with a drink in hand. They made their way over to the rest of the group, leaving Jimin sitting on the bench, his thoughts still swirling.

As he watched them, he couldn’t help but feel a little bit lighter. The idea of just letting things be was comforting. Maybe he had been trying too hard to define everything, to make it all fit into a box. Maybe it was okay to just be in the moment.

He took another sip of his drink, listening to the laughter coming from the bar, and for the first time he’s been here, he started to relax.

The night air was cool, and the group had gathered around a cozy karaoke lounge in the retreat’s communal area. The flickering neon lights created a warm, inviting glow as the buzz of laughter filled the room. 

The tables were scattered with cocktails and snacks, and the music played softly in the background. Everyone seemed to be in a good mood, and even Jimin, who had been initially unsure, was starting to feel the excitement in the air.

“Alright, alright!” Jungkook announced dramatically, standing up with a microphone in hand. “Who’s gonna start before I humiliate each and everyone of you?”

Yoongi, already settled comfortably into his chair, raised an eyebrow. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” he muttered, but the faint smirk on his face betrayed his amusement.

“Hey, hyung, just go easy on the high notes this time,” Jungkook teased, adjusting his hair as he looked over at him.

Yoongi narrowed his eyes. “I’m a professional, kid. You worry about your own performance.”

Namjoon laughed from the side, his eyes twinkling. “This is gonna be good.”

Jimin stood off to the side, watching the interaction between the two with a faint smile. He had been a little hesitant about participating, still not fully comfortable with the whole "couple retreat" dynamic, but the lively atmosphere was slowly pulling him in.

“I’m not singing,” Jimin said to Namjoon, who stood beside him. “I’ll just watch you guys murdering each other.”

His hyung grinned mischievously. “Come on. You have to sing at least one song. It’s the retreat rule—bonding activities and all.”

Jimin raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know about that. I‘ll be busy dying from secondhand embarrassment.”

At that moment, Jungkook turned to him, his eyes bright with challenge. “You’re not getting away that easy, baby. You’ll have to sing eventually.”

Jimin rolled his eyes. “Maybe, but not tonight. I’m just here to witness your performance, pretty boy.”

Jungkook chuckled, already warmed up to the idea. “Alright, alright. I’ll let you off the hook for now.”

Yoongi, already scrolling through the song options on the screen, looked up. “If Jimin’s not singing, then it’s up to you, kid.” He gestured to the maknae with a dramatic flair. “Show us what you’ve got.”

And with that, Jungkook stepped forward and took center stage, effortlessly commanding the room. His confident grin was enough to make everyone turn their attention to him. The music started, and the first notes of a popular ballad filled the room.

Jimin wasn’t surprised. But there was something about the way Jungkook owned the stage that made his heart flutter a little. The way he played the crowd—it was all just too effortless.

The room erupted in cheers as he ended.

“That wasn’t half bad,” Jimin admitted, smiling to himself as he grabbed a drink from the bar.

“Half bad?” Jungkook teased, returning to his seat. “That’s your best compliment?”

Jimin grinned, his tone playful. “I mean, I didn’t expect you to be that good.”

Jungkook laughed and leaned back, nudging him lightly with his shoulder. “You’re just jealous I have talent and you don’t.”

“Excuse me?” Jimin replied, feigning offense. “I’m practically a vocal legend. Just wait for my next solo album.”

“Oh, I’ll be front-row center for that,” his friend teased. “Let me know when you’re ready to take on my level.”

Namjoon joined in on the fun, both of them egging Jimin on, making him feel a little more at ease. When it was his turn to pick a song, he hesitated at first but then sighed dramatically. 

"Fine, fine. But don't say I didn't warn you."

As the night went on, the group continued to sing, laugh, and bond over cheesy pop songs and nostalgic ballads. Even Jimin, who had been hesitant at the start, found himself enjoying the moment.

The karaoke session, while silly, was a perfect ending to their first full day at the retreat. Everyone was chatting, clinking glasses, and, for a little while, there was no pressure. No pretending. Just fun.

And as Jimin watched his friends, he realized that maybe this whole pretending thing wasn’t as difficult as he thought. And Maybe this week wouldn’t be such a disaster after all.

Chapter Text

Jimin blinked awake to the filtered light pouring in through the sheer cottage curtains. For a moment, he felt disoriented—this wasn’t his room, and his mattress definitely wasn’t this soft. 

Then he remembered the cabin, the retreat, the trust falls, and... oh. The piggyback ride. The forest. The entire being-lost-in-the-woods debacle.

He groaned softly and sat up, immediately feeling the dull ache in his ankle. Still sore, but not as bad. There was a neatly wrapped cold pack beside the bed and a folded note in Jungkook’s annoyingly neat handwriting: 

"Put this on if it hurts. Making eggs for my little chick."

Jimin squinted suspiciously at the cheerful handwriting. Making eggs?

He shuffled into the cozy kitchen area of the cottage, where Jungkook stood by the stove, in an hoodie and sweats, humming along to some upbeat lo-fi playlist playing softly in the background. His hair was messy, like he hadn’t bothered brushing it, and somehow that made him look even more boyfriend-y.

“You moved me,” Jimin accused, leaning against the doorframe.

His friend looked over his shoulder, flashing that annoyingly bright bunny smile. “Good morning to you too. You were mumbling in your sleep. It was sad.”

“What was I saying?”

“Something about strawberries. And betrayal. Very mysterious.”

Jimin rolled his eyes but smiled, limping over to sit at the small breakfast table. “You didn’t have to carry me to the bed, you know.”

“I didn’t carry you. I just... gently relocated your dramatic ass. Also, the floor is hard and cold. It’s called being a good boyfriend.”

“You are not my boyfriend.”

Jungkook served him a plate of kimchi-rice with fried eggs on top and a dramatic flair, like he was delivering a five-star dish. “Chapter three: Comfort and Care. Page seven: Keep the boyfriend off the floor.”

Before Jimin could come up with a retort, his phone buzzed on the table. He picked it up and an email notification from the retreat screamed at him:

PRIVATE HOT SPRING SESSION RESERVED FOR 

YOU AND YOUR PARTNER AT 1PM.

Please arrive in your provided spa robes and towels. 

Enjoy your romantic soak! 

Jimin stared. Blinked. Looked again. Jungkook leaned over to read the message, then gasped in excitement. “Ooooh. Steamy!”

“Don’t you dare.”

“We’re going to the hot spring together. This is huge. Our relationship is moving so fast, honey puff,” Jungkook said, clutching his chest with faux sincerity. “What if I see you shirtless? Will I swoon, will I faint? We will see.”

Jimin shoved a piece of fried egg into his mouth. “You’re not funny.”

“You love it.”

He did. Unfortunately.

He stared down at his plate, poking at the egg with a chopstick, trying to ignore the way his cheeks felt too warm. “I’m not going in if there are other people.”

“It’s private, it says so right there,” Jungkook grinned. “Just you, me, and some strategically placed steam.”

“Oh my god.”

After breakfast and a minor debate over which robe looked “less like cult attire,” they wandered down the curved stone path winding through the retreat grounds. The air was cool and fresh, mingled with the scent of pine and wet earth. Dew still clung to the grass like glitter, and birds chirped with suspicious cheer — as if they were paid actors. 

The path opened up into a small garden clearing surrounded by manicured hedges and blooming lavender bushes. A cluster of low cushions had been arranged in a circle beneath a pergola woven with flowering vines. A long table off to the side held pitchers of herbal tea, trays of fruit, and tiny ceramic bowls filled with probably peace or whatever.

A pair of facilitators — one with an impossibly soothing voice and the other wearing an outrageous scarf — welcomed them with serene smiles.

“Please find a seat wherever feels most aligned with your energy this morning,” said Scarf Person.

Jimin barely suppressed a snort. They settled into two cushions, and Jimin immediately started scanning the circle with casual disinterest that quickly turned into very interested horror.

Yoongi was already present, doing what could only be described as lounging against Namjoon like he’d paid rent on that man. Namjoon didn’t seem to notice — or if he did, he’d decided to lean into it — sipping tea with one hand while balancing a tiny porcelain plate with raspberries in the other.

Jimin blinked. 

Just in time to witness Yoongi pick up a berry and —with the same level of emotion he used to read the IKEA instructions during that one BTS Run episode— gently place it against Namjoon’s lips. 

He, like this was normal, took the raspberry with a casual hum and nodded his thanks. He reached up and absentmindedly brushed his thumb along the curve of Yoongi’s neck, a soft, slow stroke like it was second nature.

Jimin’s jaw nearly dislocated.

“I—what—are they for real?” he whispered, leaning in toward Jungkook like he needed someone else to confirm the alternate reality he’d stumbled into.

His neighbor didn’t look up. He was sipping lavender tea with an infuriatingly peaceful expression, like he’d already seen this film and found it charming.

“They’re either really committed to the bit…” he said, tilting his head slightly in their direction just as Yoongi reached for Namjoon’s journal, muttered something, and began writing in it himself while Namjoon laughed softly.

“…or actually in love.”

Jimin stared. “Maybe both.”

Jungkook shrugged, grinning now. “Exactly.”

Jimin turned back to his own journal, blinking down at the page and the delicate prompts printed in soft, peaceful font:

What intention do you want to set for today?
What do you hope to let go of?
What do you want to nourish in your relationship?

He blinked at the word ‘relationship’. It was so hypothetical and the hypothetical was getting harder by the hour.

He wrote:
Intention for today: survive fake dating retreat without spontaneously combusting. Or getting jealous of my hyungs. Or dying of sudden gay panic in a hot spring.

He paused. Added a tiny smiley face. Then scratched it out violently.

Across the circle, Yoongi was now whispering something to Namjoon, who chuckled and reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind Yoongi’s ear. Like a damn BL drama.

Jimin picked up his tea and whispered to Jungkook without looking at him, “Do we look like that?”

His friend tilted his head, lips quirking. “Nope.”

“Too stiff?”

“Way too stiff.”

Jimin furrowed his brows, defensive. “But we cuddle."

“We cuddled. Past tense.” Jungkook took another sip. “So did I with Bam last week.”

Jimin glared. “Rude.”

“You asked.”

He let out a slow sigh and stared back at their hyungs. They looked so comfortable. Like they'd either been doing this their whole lives or stopped caring what anyone thought.

Jimin squirmed on his cushion and mumbled under his breath, “Should I feed you a raspberry or something?”

Jungkook nearly choked on his tea. “Hyung—!”

Jimin covered his face. “Sorry. Stupid.”

His neighbor laughed softly, yet a little disappointed. “Not stupid. Just... surprisingly committed.”

Jimin glanced sideways at him, heart doing things he didn’t ask for. Jungkook was smiling now, relaxed and warm, journal abandoned entirely in favor of watching the clouds drift across the morning sky.

It should’ve felt fake. All of this should’ve felt like an act. So why didn’t it?

He returned his gaze to the prompt and scribbled something else under the crossed-out mess. Something smaller. Simpler.

Be honest with myself.

He closed the journal gently, as the instructor announced, “Thank you for setting your intentions, couples. May they guide your connection today — and always.”

Jimin stared across the circle at his older members again.

If they were faking it, they deserved an Oscar.

If they weren’t... well, maybe pretending didn’t always stay pretend.

“…Do we look like a couple?” he asked the mirror a few minutes later as they were preparing for the hot spring. “Do we act like a couple?”

From behind him, Jungkook—already lounging in a fluffy white retreat robe, feet kicked up on the coffee table like a smug Vogue spread for “boyfriend of the year”—called out, “What?”

Jimin peeked around the corner. “Do you think we’re convincing? Like, to the others?”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow. “We fooled the front desk.”

“That’s literally their job, Jungkook. They smiled at us like we’re paying customers, not like we’re in love.”

“Okay, well, do you want them to cry and hand us a marriage license or…?”

Jimin ignored him and paced barefoot toward his suitcase. “The hyungs are killing it. Did you see them this morning? Yoongi was practically napping on Joon‘s shoulder. They’re so natural. And they’ve never even dated—”

“—That we know of,” Jungkook deadpanned.

“—and we’re just… stiff. Awkward. What if people think we’re, like, boring?”

Jungkook tapped his chin, then sat up straighter, eyes suddenly mischievous. “Soooo—what you’re saying is…” He stood, took a slow step forward. “Should I start feeding you too? Kissing your squishy cheekies?”

Jimin’s eyes widened. And before Jungkook could reach out for his cheeks, he ducked away. 

“Strawberry? Grape? I’ve got options, baby,” his friend said instead.

“Do not make a charcuterie board of chaos, Jeon Jungkook,” he warned, pointing a finger, though the corners of his mouth betrayed him.

The other just laughed. “Relax. We’re plenty convincing. I mean, we’ve been doing this ‘not-dating’ thing for nearly a decade now.”

Time flies.

Jimin muttered, “And it’s finally coming in handy. Yay us!”

They arrived at their reserved time slot — a secluded, open-air hot spring hidden behind a curved stone path and framed by high bamboo and ivy-covered walls. The space smelled faintly of mineral water and cedarwood, with mist rising lazily from the surface of the spring. 

Everything about it screamed private, romantic escape — which is exactly the problem.

Jimin halted at the threshold like someone had walked him onto a drama set. The water glistened in the dappled light. A pair of wooden stools sat off to the side, along with a basket of bath salts and flower petals that someone had definitely spent way too much time arranging.

“It’s quiet,” Jungkook said, stepping forward. “Perfect.”

“Quite intimate,” Jimin muttered under his breath, clutching the ends of his spa robe like armor.

Both of them were dressed in the resort’s signature robes, towels around their necks, the soft cotton clinging slightly from the steam already thick in the air. Jungkook moved ahead, letting the robe slip off his shoulders as he walked toward the edge of the spring, unbothered, skin golden in the light. 

Jimin studiously looked away, which of course only made his gaze snap back like a rubber band when Jungkook leaned forward, dipped his hand into the water, and pushed his damp hair back.

Water dripped down his neck like in a freaking commercial. Jimin swallowed air like it would save him.

Jungkook glanced over his shoulder. “You’re just standing there. You okay?”

His friend cleared his throat and stepped closer, trying not to shuffle like a teen on his first date. This was totally normal. “Fine. I’m fine. Just... appreciating the craftsmanship of the tilework.”

“The what?”

“The—forget it.”

Jungkook laughed and climbed into the water with a quiet hiss, then sighed in contentment like the steam alone had cured all of his problems. “Oh man. This is heaven.”

Jimin finally let his robe slip off and followed, toeing his way into the spring. The water was hot, almost too hot, but his body quickly adapted. His ankle throbbed once, then relaxed. He tried to do the same.

They settled side by side, backs against the smooth stone, shoulders just barely brushing. The only sounds were the soft lap of water, a wind chime tinkling from somewhere nearby, and the occasional call of a distant bird.

Jungkook tilted his head, glancing at Jimin’s profile. “You look tense, shorty.”

“I’m not tense.”

“You’re sitting like someone’s about to quiz you.”

“I’m just… thinking.”

“About what?”

He didn’t answer. Mostly because the answer was ‘You. Your collarbones, how easy this all feels, and how terrifying it is’. 

Instead, he shrugged it off. “Just stuff.”

He watched him for a beat, unreadable. Then, quietly: “You know, we’re allowed to relax. We’re doing great. No one’s figured anything out. Namjoon said we’re convincing enough.”

“Convincing,” Jimin repeated, the word sticking in his throat like a cherry pit.

“Yeah.” His tone softened. “I mean, you even survived a piggyback rescue and a compatibility quiz without combusting.”

“Barely.”

They fell into a silence that should have been awkward, but wasn’t. It was warm. Safe. A little too easy.

Jungkook rested his head back against the edge, closed his eyes, and exhaled slowly. “This isn’t so bad, right?”

Jimin watched a droplet of water slide from his jaw down the column of his throat. His chest rose and fell steadily, shoulders relaxed, like he was made of sunlight and steam and things Jimin had no business craving.

He murmured, mostly to himself, “Yeah. Not bad at all.”

Their bodies acclimated to the water, and time felt slower now—stretched out between the gentle ripple of the spring and the soft rustling of bamboo leaves above them. The heat had turned the air hazy, and the steam clung to their skin like the last threads of a dream.

Jimin shifted, just slightly, but it didn’t help. Their shoulders were still touching beneath the water—not quite accidental anymore, not quite intentional either. It was just… close. Too close. His skin felt hypersensitive to it, like every brush was leaving a fingerprint behind.

Jungkook leaned back, arms spread casually along the edge of the spring behind them, tilting his face toward the sky. Droplets glinted on his collarbone like constellations. 

He looked peaceful, like he belonged here.

Jimin didn’t. He was too aware—of the closeness, the quiet, the way his heartbeat seemed to echo louder in the silence.

He risked another glance, then immediately regretted it. His brain short-circuited for the hundredth time that day.

Maybe the heat was messing with him.

“Don’t you get sick of pretending?” be blurted, the question slipping out before he could stop it.

Jungkook didn’t turn right away. His head stayed tilted up toward the clouds, like he was considering the question carefully. Then, a soft grin curved across his lips—not teasing this time, but warm, thoughtful.

“We’re basically just being us,” he said. “There’s not much to pretend, when we’re being honest.”

Jimin stared at him, stunned into stillness. His mouth opened like it wanted to respond, but nothing quite made it past the lump in his throat. Something in him stuttered. 

We are us. Like it was simple.

Maybe it was for him.
Maybe it never was for Jimin.

He shifted again, not away, just enough to breathe. “You say that like it’s easy.”

Jungkook finally turned to him. “It is. I don’t ever feel like I’m pretending when I’m with you. I guess.”

Jimin didn’t have a response for that—not a real one. His heart was doing something weird and fluttery, and he was suddenly grateful when his friend gently pivoted the conversation.

“Remember when we thought enlistment would be the worst thing we ever had to survive?” Jungkook said with a little smirk

Jimin huffed, the tension dissolving slightly. “Yeah. And now we’re doing... yoga heart-openers in matching robes.”

“You say that like it’s worse.”

Jimin snorted. “At least in the army I didn’t have to stare longingly into your eyes.”

“You stared?”

Occasionally. That uniform had just fit in all the right places.

“No comment.”

They both laughed, and the air lightened. 

Jimin adjusted his collar for the third time, looking himself over in the mirror before leaving their cottage. The buffet was waiting, and he was determined to look effortlessly stylish—well, as effortlessly as possible. He had spent an inordinate amount of time deciding on his outfit.

When Jungkook stepped into the room, wearing his usual casual attire, he raised an eyebrow at Jimin’s ensemble.

“You sure you’re not prepping for a magazine cover?” he teased, arms crossed as he leaned against the doorframe, looking like James Dean while eyeing his friend with a sly smile.

Jimin straightened up, adjusting his shirt one last time, but he couldn’t help smirking. “What? I can’t dress nice once in a while?”

Jungkook scoffed but didn’t stop glancing at him, taking in the sharpness of his look. “You look like you’re about to be featured in GQ. I swear, you’re so vain.” He said the words with an exaggerated air of judgment, though the playful tone in his voice betrayed him. “You can’t even go to dinner without making a whole fashion statement.”

“Boohoo, cry me a shot glass of tears.”

Jungkook chuckled as he buttoned his leather jacket.

“I’m just trying to look presentable,” Jimin added casually. “Not everyone has your natural ability to throw on whatever and look hot— good. I mean good.”

His friend shrugged nonchalantly, though there was a glint of something—appreciation?—in his eyes as he stepped closer. “I don’t know. You do look good. Just don’t let it go to your head, alright?”

Jimin smirked at his slightly awkward compliment, adjusting his shirt once more. “Thanks, I’ll try not to. But you know, it’s not easy being this stylish.”

Jungkook laughed, but his eyes lingered just a moment longer than necessary. “Yeah, I bet. Can’t say I’m not jealous. You probably spend hours looking in the mirror… And who wouldn’t, with a face like that?”

Jimin raised an eyebrow. “I’m not vain. I just know what looks good on me.” 

Jungkook snorted. “I’ve got my style down. Minimal effort, maximum cool. You can’t compete with that.”

“Sure, whatever you say,” Jimin teased, walking past him and heading out the door. “But we both know I’m the one really nailing it tonight.”

His companion watched him go, a small smile tugging at his lips as he followed him down the path to the buffet.

“Don’t get too cocky. You’ve still got a long way to go before you’re as effortlessly cool as me,” Jungkook called.

Jimin threw a playful glance back over his shoulder, a grin spreading across his face. “Keep dreaming, Kookie.”

The dining hall was softly lit, all amber glow and rustic charm. A buffet stretched across one side of the room, trays steaming with fragrant rice, glazed meats, fresh vegetables, and an absurdly curated dessert station that Jungkook made a beeline for.

Jimin trailed after him with a plate, half-focused—until he spotted them.

Namjoon and Yoongi were already seated at one of the corner tables, plates full, drinks poured, mid-bicker.

“I told you it was gochujang, not ssamjang,” Yoongi said flatly, pushing a sauce ramekin toward Namjoon like it was Exhibit A.

Namjoon leaned forward, peering into the dish. “It looks the same!”

“It doesn’t taste the same.”

“But I liked it.”

Yoongi stabbed his rice with unnecessary force. “That’s not the point.”

Namjoon sighed. “Then what is the point?”

His friend paused, then shrugged. “I forgot.”

Jungkook snorted behind Jimin, clearly eavesdropping. “Wow. True love is real.”

Jimin elbowed him lightly, then instantly regretted it when he nearly dropped his plate. His friend caught it effortlessly.

“You good?” he asked, grin lopsided.

“I’m fine,” Jimin muttered. “Just emotionally overwhelmed by fermented soybean paste discourse.”

They approached the hyungs’ table, and Namjoon waved them over, gesturing at the empty seats across from them.

“Come on, lovebirds. Plenty of room.”

“We are no lovebirds,” Jimin muttered under his breath, which only made Jungkook chuckle.

They sat. Plates clattered. Someone refilled the water. For a moment, it was peaceful—until Yoongi quietly stole a piece of radish from Namjoon’s plate. He didn’t even flinch, just cut a bite of galbi and set it on Yoongi’s dish.

Jimin stared. Jungkook raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you want my radish too? For the bit?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Yoongi muttered.

Namjoon was watching them now, fond but amused. “How was the hot spring?”

Jungkook, mouth full of japchae, gave a thumbs-up. “Very romantic,” he said, voice muffled. “10/10, would soak again.”

Jimin shoved a bite of food into his mouth to avoid speaking, cheeks slightly pink.

Yoongi smirked. “You two looked cozy on the way back.”

Jimin choked slightly. His fake boyfriend handed him his water without blinking.

Namjoon took pity, steering the conversation toward retreat gossip—apparently one of the couples had gotten caught sneaking in extra wine and were sent to “quiet reflection time,” whatever that meant.

Yoongi called it ‘emotional detention.’ Jungkook thought it sounded awesome.

And through it all, Jimin listened—warm food in his stomach, the sound of laughter in the air, the soft buzz of comfort around people who knew him too well.

When he glanced sideways at Jungkook, who was very seriously comparing two kinds of fruit cakes with Yoongi, something quiet settled in his chest.

They did look like a couple.
Even if no one was saying it out loud.

Jimin watched them walk off toward the dessert station, both of them sharing a smug grin, clearly way too invested in comparing mochi to cake now. He turned back to Namjoon, who was still casually picking at his plate, his posture as relaxed as ever.

“So,” Jimin began, trying to sound casual, though his curiosity was obvious. “How committed are you guys really, hyung? To the whole ‘fake couple’ bit, I mean.”

Namjoon’s eyebrows lifted slightly, a small smile playing at his lips. He set down his fork and leaned back in his chair, studying Jimin with a quiet, knowing look. “What do you mean, ‘committed’?”

“I mean, do you two actually play the part, or are you just... incredibly talented actors who somehow don’t even need to try?” 

He leaned in a little, lowering his voice. “Seriously, because I watched hyung feed you that raspberry earlier, and I’m starting to wonder if you’re both just putting on a show for us.” He chuckled lightly, though there was a hint of sincerity underneath.

Namjoon’s gaze softened, and he leaned forward slightly, as though sharing a secret. “You know, for as long as we have known each other, it’s not really acting. It’s just... us. The line between friendship and whatever this is can blur easily nowadays.”

Jimin stared at him, processing. He hadn’t expected that answer. “But… are you two really together, or are you just saying that because you’re getting discounts at a retreat?”

Namjoon laughed softly, a rumbling, comfortable sound. “It doesn’t have to be anything more than what it is. We’ve never really put a label on it. We just... fit.” He shrugged lightly, clearly satisfied with his vague answer.

Namjoon’s words were simple, but they made a lot of sense in their own way. It wasn’t about pretending — it was just being themselves, whatever form that took.

Namjoon held his hands up, pretending to be innocent. “You know, it’s all about the company you keep. Everything’s more comfortable when you’re around someone who doesn’t judge you.”

Jimin blinked, confused for a second, before his brain caught up with him. He narrowed his eyes. “Are you implying...?” He gestured subtly in the direction of his fake boyfriend.

He shrugged casually, not missing a beat. “I’m just saying, when you’re comfortable with someone, things fall into place. Just like the two of you,” he added, eyeing Jimin with a knowing look.

His face heated up, and he couldn’t decide whether to laugh or panic. He glanced over at Jungkook, who remained oblivious to the conversation unfolding at the table. “I—What? No. We’re just... pretending.”

Namjoon’s grin widened, and he raised his drink in a silent toast. “If you say so. But just remember — it’s all about the vibe. And I’d be surprised if anyone didn’t think you’re a couple.”

Jimin squirmed, trying to keep his cool. “Oh god, you’re not seriously trying to convince me that we’re convincing, are you?”

Namjoon laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that filled the space between them. “I’m just saying. You’ve got more going for you than you think. And maybe, just maybe, you are good at pretending.”

Jimin raised an eyebrow, already regretting asking. “I’m not pretending anything—except—you know.”

His neighbor just gave him a knowing look, his smile soft and easy. “You can tell yourself that, but the truth’s out there. You’ll figure it out when you’re ready.” He simply smiled knowingly and took a sip of his drink. 

Jimin, still a little flustered, tried to get back on track. “I’m just saying, I feel like we’re not really fooling anyone here. Like, Yoongi hyung and you—” He gestured vaguely toward Namjoon, “—you’re so casual. It’s like you’ve been in a rom-com for years.”

Namjoon looked over at his friend and chuckled, shaking his head with a slow, knowing grin. “Well, the thing about him... he’s a bit of a tease when he wants to be.” He leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice dramatically. 

“You ever seen him in a hot spring?”

Jimin blinked in confusion. “What?”

His friend smirked, glancing over his shoulder. “Let me tell you, it’s like watching a mysterious character in a film noir — quiet, but oh so compelling. And then—BAM—he takes off his robe, and suddenly it’s all ‘whoa.’ He’s got that whole ‘I could ruin your life but I’ll keep it lowkey’ vibe going on. Makes you wonder why no one’s written a song about it yet.”

Jimin nearly choked on his drink. “What are you even—?”

“You know what, maybe I'll do that for my next solo project,” Namjoon grinned and sipped his drink — probably not his first one.

He leaned back in his chair with a satisfied grin, sipping his drink with that same, annoyingly charming confidence. 

“Oh, I’m serious. If you ever get the chance, just observe the way he sits in those hot springs, arms crossed, brooding. And the best part? He’ll be so subtle about it, you won’t even know when you’re already swooning.”

Jimin couldn’t decide whether to laugh or hide under the table. “You’re such a dork, hyung.”

Namjoon shrugged casually. “What can I say? I know my hot spring heroes. And you? I think you’ve got yourself one too.” He shot Jungkook at the buffet a telling look before sitting back, clearly satisfied with the chaos he had just caused.

"What can I say? It’s all about the presentation. And trust me, hyung got it down." He leaned forward, looking just a little more serious. “And you’re doing just fine.”

Jimin didn’t know what to say to that, so he just shook his head, trying to move past the embarrassment. But deep down, he was left wondering if there was some truth to Namjoon’s teasing. 

Could it be that he and Jungkook had that kind of easy going chemistry too, even if they were just pretending?

Chapter Text

The morning sun filtered through gauzy curtains when Jimin woke up to the scent of citrus and warm earth wafting from the retreat gardens. He stretched lazily and threw on a light hoodie, brushing out his hair just enough to make it look like he hadn’t tried. 

After breakfast they headed to the open-air cooking area — a long wooden deck came into view, framed by trailing vines and soft instrumental music in the background — a small flutter of nerves hit Jimin’s stomach.

They were greeted by the retreat staff with cheerful smiles and matching aprons.

“Today’s activity is all about teamwork,” the facilitator said brightly. “Every couple will cook the same dish — a twist on a traditional bibimbap. You’ll have access to different ingredients to personalize it. You’ll be judged on taste, presentation, and, of course, cooperation.”

Jungkook gave Jimin a look like we’ve got this, already tying his apron and eyeing the ingredients like he was about to win Master Chef: Couple Edition. Jimin grinned nervously. He enjoyed cooking well enough — when no one was watching.

They stepped up to their station. Jungkook took charge without hesitation, reading over the recipe and immediately reaching for the wok. “You prep the veggies, hyung?”

“On it,” Jimin replied, already grabbing a cutting board and a carrot.

“Careful, that knife’s—”

“I know how to use a knife, Kookoo.”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow. “Sure. You just... hold it like it’s a scared baby bird.”

“Shut up.”

He laughed under his breath as he flipped some rice in the pan. It already smelled amazing. “You’re cute when you’re concentrating,” he teased.

Jimin nearly sliced the zucchini wrong. “Focus on the food, Casanova.”

Their dynamic was effortless — teasing, and somehow intimate. At one point, Jungkook reached behind him for a seasoning jar, his chest brushing Jimin’s back. He froze. The contact was brief but grounding. His heart stumbled for just a second before he exhaled and kept chopping.

Strange.

The sizzling of garlic and sesame oil filled the air, mingling with soft laughter and the occasional clatter of utensils. They moved around their small cooking station in practiced synchronicity — without even needing to speak sometimes, just passing ingredients or switching places like they had done it a hundred times before.

The lightness in the air was familiar. It was the kind of teasing that had been with them since their debut days — easy, rhythmic, fun. But today… there was something else woven into it. Something warmer, closer.

“You’re chopping that like it personally offended you,” Jungkook commented, leaning over his shoulder just a little too closely to reach for a pinch of gochugaru. His breath fanned the side of Jimin’s cheek.

He flinched but covered it with a scoff. “Maybe it did.”

Jungkook snorted, turning back to the stove with an easy grin. Jimin watched the muscles in his forearm flex as he tossed the pan expertly. The rice crackled golden at the edges. He swallowed, momentarily distracted by how annoyingly competent Jungkook looked like this — t-shirt tucked in, headband keeping his hair back, steam rising around him like a damn drama lead.

It was ridiculous. And stupidly attractive.

Jimin turned back to his station, trying to get a grip. 

You are here to win not to swoon.

“You’re smiling,” Jungkook said suddenly, not looking at him but clearly noticing.

“What?” Jimin blinked.

“You’ve been smiling at me like a fangirl for five minutes.”

“I certainly have not,” he huffed, heat rushing to his cheeks. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

His neighbor finally glanced his way, and for a second, the soft curve of his smile was too genuine. “It’s okay. I like it.”

Jimin choked on his own breath and turned his focus aggressively to slicing cucumber.

Across the garden kitchen, their hyungs were cooking like an ad for domestic bliss. Yoongi chopped with casual ease while Namjoon hummed and plated their creation, nodding along with his partner’s mumbling. 

Yoongi flicked water at him at one point. Namjoon just grinned, took a raspberry from a prep bowl, and popped it into his mouth.

Those damn raspberries.

Jimin stared. “They’re not even trying to downplay it today… And they call us lovebirds.”

“Let’s say I wouldn’t be surprised if I caught them making out… for the discount, of course.”

“Of course,” Jimin grinned.

His friend chuckled, taste-testing their sauce with the tip of a finger before offering it to him without thinking. Jimin leaned forward, licked the sauce off, then froze.

They both blinked.

“Um,” Jimin said, clearing his throat. “It’s good.”

“Cool,” Jungkook replied, way too casual. But he turned back to the stove with the faintest hint of red rising to his ears.

The tension simmered just under the surface, like the gentle bubble of broth in their pan — quiet but steady, impossible to ignore.

And somehow, despite the nervous flutter in Jimin’s chest, he didn’t want to ignore it at all.

“You’re weirdly good at this,” he muttered, watching Jungkook plate the vegetables with artistic flair.

“I cook when I’m stressed,” he replied, arranging a fried egg like a finishing crown on top of their bowl. “Maybe I should be stressed more often.”

“You are a little annoying when you’re perfect at everything.”

His friend grinned at him, soft and proud. “You make a pretty good sous-chef.”

“Gee, thanks.”

After carefully plating their dish and setting it down with a quiet sense of pride, the cooks stepped back, side by side, as the retreat staff began circulating among the stations, evaluating presentation, flavor, and creativity.

They stood in the morning sun, the light casting warm shadows across the garden kitchen, pretending not to watch too closely as the staff murmured and tasted and scribbled on little notepads.

Jungkook leaned in slightly. “We crushed it, right?”

Jimin nodded, his smile soft. “I think so. It was fun.”

But then, the head facilitator clapped his hands for attention. “Alright! Thank you to all our talented couples — we are seriously impressed. But today’s winning dish, for its perfect seasoning and charming presentation… goes to—”

A pause for effect.

“—Mingyu-ssi and Hyuk-ssi!”

A triumphant “YES!” erupted from their station, where Yoongi raised his arms in a dramatic display of victory. Namjoon bowed with exaggerated gratitude, grinning wide as the two accepted a pair of embroidered aprons and a voucher for a complimentary massage treatment.

“Better luck next time, junior,” Yoongi called out, cradling his prize like it was a trophy. “Stick to your vocals — I hear you’re pretty good at that.”

Namjoon laughed, giving Jungkook a sympathetic pat on the back. “It’s okay, some of us are just naturally gifted at flavor.”

Jungkook, to no one’s surprise, began sulking instantly. He folded his arms over his chest, staring at the ground like it had personally offended him. “We had the better sauce,” he mumbled.

Jimin, caught between amusement and sympathy, bumped his shoulder lightly. 

“Hey, we did great. It’s not about the prize.”

His friend pouted. “I guess my cooking skills aren’t as good as I thought.”

Jimin watched him for a beat, eyes lingering on the tiny wrinkle between his brows, the slight downturn of his mouth. It was kind of ridiculous. And stupidly adorable.

“You’re being dramatic,” he said, nudging him again. “You did your best.”

Jungkook sighed, still not smiling. “That’s the problem.”

And something in Jimin softened.

Because it wasn’t just about the cooking, was it? Jungkook had always been like this — throwing himself into everything with his whole heart, his whole ego. And when it didn’t go perfectly, he took it personally.

He moved a little closer, bumping their shoulders again. “Well… for what it’s worth, I’d still eat your food over Namjoon’s any day.”

The hyungs didn’t let the defeat go easily. They took turns mimicking Jungkook’s sulking expression, their voices exaggerated as they mocked.

Jungkook’s pout deepened, if possible. His arms stayed crossed over his chest, and his eyes remained fixed on the ground, as if he was trying to avoid looking like the sore loser he felt like.

Jimin, watching the scene unfold, felt a pull of sympathy. The playful teasing didn’t seem to be helping, and he could tell his friend was taking it all to heart more than he was letting on. 

The teasing might have been lighthearted, but there was a sincerity in the way Jungkook’s posture sagged, how his shoulders slumped a little lower with each jab.

Without thinking too much about it, Jimin stepped closer. The instinct was there — to make it better, to offer comfort in a way that felt familiar between them. He reached out, a simple motion, and pulled him into a hug.

It was just enough to make Jungkook feel the warmth of his presence, just enough to let him know it was okay. They had hugged countless times before, but this time, Jimin could feel the weight of it. The softness in his posture as he relaxed into the hug. Jimin’s heart gave an almost imperceptible flutter, but he brushed it off.

His friend’s body was tense for just a moment, but then, slowly loosened. He leaned into the embrace just a little, his sulk melting away under the steady rhythm of Jimin’s hold. 

And when he turned his head slightly to look up at him, there was a flicker of something in his eyes — a soft, private kind of smile that Jimin hadn’t seen before. It was that smile. That smile that made his heart skip in a way he wished he could ignore.

Then, with a deep breath, Jimin pulled back, clearing his throat as he tried to find his words. He looked away quickly, suddenly feeling awkward, even though the moment had felt so natural.

“I—uh—don’t let them get to you,” he said, his voice even softer than usual. 

Jungkook laughed under his breath, the tension finally easing from his shoulders. He glanced sideways at Jimin. “Thanks, baby.”

Jimin looked away quickly, cheeks warming. 

Not this again.

The air between them was still thick with something neither of them wanted to acknowledge, but Jimin didn’t know how to shift it back to something casual. So, he glanced at Yoongi and Namjoon, trying to break the tension.

“Alright, enough of the teasing,” he scolded. “Let’s go grab some dessert before he’ll never touch a spatula again.”

They made their way toward the lounging area where some of the other couples had gathered. The soft murmurs of conversation mixed with laughter, and the general mood was relaxed—after all, it had been a day full of activities.

Jimin’s eyes scanned the scene, then landed on their hyungs sitting together in the corner of the room, heads close, laughing softly to each other. Namjoon was playing with Yoongi’s hair, running his fingers through the strands absentmindedly, his thumb brushing against the back of his neck.

Something in Jimin’s chest tightened at the sight. It was an easy, intimate moment between them—something so natural. And yet there was a flicker of something he couldn’t quite place. It stung, almost like jealousy, and he hadn’t been expecting to feel it.

And suddenly, Jimin became acutely aware of how not like that he and Jungkook were. Of the distance between them, the way everything between them was still pretend.

But it was more than that. He felt a strange pang in his chest—almost like something was missing. He couldn’t put his finger on it. His thoughts began to spiral, his mind circling back to that little moment of intimacy he’d shared with Jungkook during the cooking challenge. That fleeting hug. The way his smile had been softer than usual. 

He didn’t understand why he was suddenly so worked up about it. Why did it bother him that Namjoon and Yoongi could be this natural with each other? Shouldn’t he have been used to this kind of thing by now? 

The closeness, the affection, the subtle touches they all shared. But this felt different somehow.

He blinked, trying to shake the feeling, but it didn’t go away.

“Hyung?” Jungkook’s voice broke through his thoughts, and Jimin looked up to find his friend watching him with an unreadable expression. His brow furrowed slightly, concern flickering in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Jimin froze for a moment, caught off guard. He hadn’t meant for his thoughts to be so obvious, trying to mask them with a smile. “Nothing,” he said quickly, brushing it off as casually as possible. “Just... thinking.”

Jungkook tilted his head slightly, still watching him closely, but didn’t push it. Instead, he reached out, nudging Jimin with his elbow. “Well, whatever it is, we should focus on the good stuff. There’s dessert waiting for us.”

Jimin offered a small smile, grateful for the lighthearted distraction. But as they walked toward the dessert table, his thoughts continued to race. Had Jungkook noticed the shift in his mood? Had he felt it too? Or was he just overthinking things, as usual?

And then, just like that, a different question nagged at him. What would it be like if this wasn’t pretend? 

His chest tightened at the thought, but he quickly brushed it aside, focusing on the desserts in front of them. The last thing he needed was to let his mind wander down that road.

The following evening was clear and crisp, the air filled with the scent of pine as the group gathered around a crackling campfire. The warm glow of the flames flickered in their faces, casting playful shadows on the surrounding trees. The friends sat close, surrounded by several other couples who were laughing and chatting, some wrapped in blankets, others sipping hot drinks. 

It was one of the last activities of the night—a storytelling session meant to help everyone connect. Everyone seemed a little more at ease as they leaned in to listen to the fire’s crackling pops.

Jimin felt more relaxed now. The tension from earlier had faded over the day, and the soothing ambiance of the campfire, the quiet murmur of conversation, and the soft teasing between their group made him feel more grounded. He glanced at Jungkook, who was lounging back in his seat, his eyes reflecting the flames as he listened intently to a story from another couple.

When it was Jungkook’s turn, he smirked a little, clearly ready to tease. “Well, this one goes a while back. Back when I moved into my first apartment—my own place. Jimin came over to help me settle in, and it ended up being a sleepover.”

Jimin froze for a second, catching his playful glint, but before he could react, Jungkook continued. “I was super excited to finally have my own space, right? But, like… I had no idea how to set up anything. I thought I could handle it myself, but turns out, it was a lot. So we ended up just lounging around. Watching TV, talking, you know, like two people do when they just… spend time together.”

Jimin couldn’t help but smile, a little embarrassed by how innocent he made it sound. He leaned back, remembering that night—a mix of chaos and comfort. He had helped Jungkook unpack, set things up, and made sure he had a couch to crash on, all while they joked around about the little things. It had been fun, casual… until it wasn’t.

Jungkook’s voice grew softer, a fond smile spreading across his face. “Then, it got late. And I remember we were both just too tired to do anything else, so we decided to lie down, right? Jimin, you were always so stubborn about it—you didn’t want to sleep on the couch, so you just hopped into bed next to me. Just… to sleep.”

Jimin blinked. He hadn’t thought about it in years. He remembered that night vividly: the two of them, lying side by side in that room. At the time, it had felt normal. Comfortable. He hadn’t questioned it.

“I think we were both in denial,” Jungkook continued with a laugh. “But, like, once you’re in my bed, and there’s no space between you… you end up just falling asleep, right? I remember… waking up in the middle of the night. And we were cuddling, completely tangled up in the blankets.”

Jimin’s heart skipped a beat. He suddenly realized what he was describing. It had been so casual at the time—just a comfort thing, just two friends behaving like they always had. But now, hearing it through Jungkook’s lens, it felt so much more intimate. 

His mind reeled, the memory taking on a new light. They had been so close, so familiar. Too close. They had fallen asleep wrapped around each other, and Jimin had never once questioned just how intimate it had felt until now.

Jungkook grinned, looking directly at him with an unreadable expression. “And the best part? Neither of us said anything about it the next morning. We just went about the day like it was totally normal.”

Jimin didn’t know how to respond. He felt a heat creeping up his neck. He hadn’t realized how much of that night had stayed with him. He’d told himself it was just a moment of laziness, of comfort between two people who knew each other so well. 

But hearing him talk about it like that—seeing how casually he described it—Jimin wondered if maybe it had been more than that. Had it always been this intimate for Jungkook? Had it been for him, too?

His friend’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “But looking back now… I think that was when I started to realize how easy it was to be with you, hyung. How comfortable, you know?” His tone had softened again, becoming less playful and more sincere.

Jimin blinked, suddenly hyper-aware of their physical closeness. The warmth of his body, the way his eyes seemed to be speaking more than his words ever could. He realized then—this wasn’t just some sweet, harmless anecdote. 

Jungkook had just opened up a little window into their shared past. A past that felt almost too intimate, now that everything between them seemed to shift.

Jimin let out a soft, breathy laugh, trying to play it off. “Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly know what I was getting myself into,” he said, but there was a slight tremor in his voice, something that wasn’t quite playful, but vulnerable.

Jungkook shot him a teasing smile, but Jimin could see something deeper in his eyes. “I think you’ve known all along, shorty,” he said softly.

For a moment, Jimin didn’t know what to say. The air between them felt charged, the once casual intimacy of their relationship now wrapped in layers of something neither of them had explored before.

As the others around the campfire chuckled or shifted, unaware of the weight of what Jungkook had just said, Jimin found himself lost in the quiet between them. What had once felt so easy and comfortable was now something both terrifying and thrilling at the same time.

He cleared his throat, trying to focus. "I guess... we did get pretty cozy that night, huh?" he said, offering him a small smile, hoping to ease the tightness building in his chest.

Jungkook grinned, the teasing back in full force. "Only because you couldn’t resist me." He smirked, tongue playing casually with his piercing. Jimin’s heart skipped again. The line was casual, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t just talking about that night anymore.

Jimin couldn’t help but wonder if he was ready to face what was happening—or if, like that first sleepover, it was something he would keep pretending not to notice for a little while longer.

He shifted uncomfortably for a moment as the group laughed. There was a part of him that felt embarrassed, but also oddly touched. He couldn’t deny that it had felt good to laugh with Jungkook like that. It had felt too real.

Namjoon’s voice cut through the air with ease. “Well, if we’re talking about defining moments, I’ll tell you about mine with…Hyuk,” he began. His tone was casual, but there was something else in it—something quieter and more reflective. He looked at Yoongi with a glance that Jimin couldn’t quite read, and for a moment, his eldest hyung shifted uncomfortably, his posture stiffening.

Namjoon paused, as if choosing his words carefully. The group fell into a kind of hushed silence, sensing that he was about to share something a little more intimate than the usual playful anecdotes.

“We didn’t always get along. We were friends, sure, but it wasn’t always easy,” Namjoon said, his voice low but steady. “You know, we came from different places. I was always a bit of a perfectionist, always thinking ahead, trying to do things the right way. He was more impulsive. He had a way of doing things that didn’t make sense to anyone else, except to him. And I didn’t always get it.”

Namjoon smiled softly, though it held a bittersweet edge. “But when we were just starting out, we didn’t have much. There was one night... I don’t even remember what we were fighting about—something silly, I’m sure. But I remember it got so bad that I just couldn’t take it anymore. I went to leave, and he stopped me. He said something like, ‘You don’t get to leave. Not when I’m here.’ And it wasn’t like a dramatic thing. He just stood there, looking at me like I was the only person in the world. And I just broke down.”

Namjoon stopped, glancing down at the fire, lost in the memory. Yoongi’s gaze softened as he listened, his arms crossed loosely as he watched Namjoon with an unreadable expression.

“It’s funny,” he continued, his voice quieter now, “how someone can be such a contrast to you, but still be exactly what you need. Hyuk and I spent a lot of time learning how to be comfortable with each other, to let go of all the things we thought we needed to be.” 

Namjoon looked over at Yoongi, his expression gentle. “That’s when I knew—I would never let him go. Ever.”

There was a pause after he finished, and the air around them seemed to hold its breath. The campfire flickered in the silence, the sound of crackling wood filling the space. For a moment, no one spoke. It felt like they had just heard something personal—something that wasn’t meant to be shared with outsiders.

Jimin’s mind tangled in what he had just heard. Namjoon’s vulnerability had pulled him in, made him feel things he wasn’t entirely ready to process. He had to admit—there was something magnetic about the way Namjoon had shared his feelings. 

As the fire crackled softly, a sudden quiet fell over the group. The playful energy from earlier now felt paused. Namjoon looked at Yoongi again, his gaze softer than Jimin had seen it in a while. 

He wasn’t sure if anyone else noticed, but the weight of the moment wasn’t lost on him. Then, as if on impulse, Namjoon leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.

It was brief. A simple peck, but in the silence that followed, it felt like an eternity. The quiet around them grew so thick that Jimin swore he could hear his own heartbeat. 

For a brief second, Yoongi froze, eyes wide with surprise. He looked almost embarrassed, his cheeks flushing. But before anyone could process it further, he recovered, offering Namjoon a teasing smirk. 

"What was that for?" he asked, confused.

Namjoon simply shrugged, his expression unbothered, though his lips curled into a small, content smile. "You’re the one who’s always taking care of me, always looking out for me. I thought I’d return the favor."

The way Namjoon spoke—casual, but sincere—made Jimin’s chest tighten. There was a softness in his tone, something that couldn’t be faked. Yoongi looked away briefly, the smallest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He said nothing more.

The other couples had seen the exchange, but no one commented. Instead, the group slowly picked the conversation back up, the teasing and laughter returning to fill the space.

Jimin felt a lump form in his throat as he listened. There had been vulnerability in Namjoon’s words that made him think about his own bond with Jungkook. And yet, something in that story left him uneasy. 

The way he had spoken about Yoongi made him question whether he could ever openly  speak about Jungkook the same way. 

He turned to his friend, his mind suddenly full. Jungkook caught his gaze, and for a split second, their eyes locked. His face was unreadable, but there was a softness in his look, a quiet understanding that made something flutter in his chest.

The moment broke when Yoongi cleared his throat, looking mildly uncomfortable. "Well, that was a lot more emotional than I was expecting," he said, cutting the tension with dry humor.

Namjoon chuckled, though there was a faint edge to it now. "Yeah," he said with a smile, his eyes lingering on him. "I guess sometimes, you just need to let things out."

Yoongi raised an eyebrow but didn’t say more. He turned back to the fire, his usual easy smile fading just slightly. The air had changed again. Less playful. The intimacy of Namjoon’s story had somehow shifted the group’s energy a bit.

As the conversation around him continued, Jimin couldn’t stop the swirl of thoughts in his mind. What really happened behind the closed doors of this retreat? What was real, and what wasn’t? And how long could he keep pretending when the line between fake and real was beginning to blur in his head?

Most importantly, what exactly was happening between Jungkook and him?

Chapter Text

They arrived at the cabin in silence, the only sounds being their footsteps on the wooden floor and the soft rustling of the trees outside. The evening light had already faded into dusk, casting a soft glow through the windows.

Jimin was used to the quiet between them; they had shared a lot of space without words over the years, but tonight felt different. There was something fragile about the silence—something that felt like it was just on the brink of breaking.

"Chim," Jungkook said softly as he slipped out of his robe, "sleep in the bed with me tonight."

Jimin froze for a second, glancing up at him. The words caught him off guard, and his heart skipped a beat. 

“I—” he started, his mind racing. He wasn’t sure why he hesitated. Maybe it was the unspoken tension from earlier, or maybe he just wasn’t ready to confront whatever this was between them. But there was something about Jungkook’s expression, the quiet vulnerability in his eyes, that made Jimin feel like it wasn’t a request he could easily deny.

"You can’t sleep on the floor forever. It’s getting silly, don’t you think?" his friend added, his voice a little more insistent this time, but still gentle. 

Jimin swallowed, nodding slowly. "Alright," he whispered, the quiet sound of his voice making the weight of his decision feel heavier than it should have.

They both changed in the small bathroom, the silence between them still hanging in the air. Jimin’s thoughts were a jumble, his mind racing with the echoes of Jungkook’s story from earlier, the intimacy of their shared past—how easily it had all slipped into something more.

Jimin hesitated again, but only for a moment. He’d spent so many nights like this before, just friends sharing space, not thinking too much about it. But tonight there was an unfamiliar weight to it.

With a quiet breath, he climbed into the bed, the space between them surprisingly wide for just a moment. The cool sheets brushed against his skin as he shifted to lie on his side, facing away from his neighbor, hoping that the quiet darkness would make it easier to ignore the growing tension in the room.

But Jungkook, as always, was unable to leave a distance between them for too long. He shifted closer, his presence a steady warmth against his back.

His arm wrapped around Jimin‘s waist, pulling him closer. It was casual, but intimate—a gesture that felt so natural, yet too heavy with meaning tonight.

"Goodnight, shorty," he whispered, his breath warm against the back of his neck.

Jimin swallowed, trying to steady his racing heart. "‘Night, Kookie," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

The bed creaked softly as Jungkook adjusted again, his body molding against his. The warmth of his touch spread across his chest, making him feel a flutter in his stomach. He was hyper-aware of every inch of their bodies touching now, the way their limbs tangled beneath the covers.

Before he knew it, Jimin’s body had relaxed into his, head resting just beneath Jungkook‘s chin. There was no hesitation this time—no awkwardness, no pulling away. It just felt right.

They fell asleep like that, wrapped up in each other’s arms, their bodies pressed so close that it felt impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.

As they drifted off to sleep, Jimin's heart raced in time with the gentle rhythm of their shared breathing. He didn’t know how to untangle the mess of emotions building inside him, but for now, he let himself enjoy the warmth of the familiar body pressed so close.

Tomorrow would bring more questions. But for now, Jimin let himself fall asleep, tangled in his friend’s arms, the world outside forgotten.

Jimin woke up in the middle of the night, haunted by a strange feeling that something was off. As he lifted his head, Jungkook blinked at him, like he’d just been caught in the middle of a dream.

“Sorry,” he said quietly. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

Jimin pushed himself up just a little, still groggy, caught in the strange intimacy of being looked at like that. “You didn’t. I just… felt it, I guess.”

Jungkook let out a breath, not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh. “Of course you did.”

They fell into a brief silence again, not tense—just heavy with whatever it was Jungkook was holding.

“Did you ever feel like… no matter how much you give, it‘s never the right thing?” he asked. “Like you‘re either too much or not enough? Not soft enough. Not serious enough. Not... easy to love.”

Jimin’s heart tugged. He was quiet for a beat, taking in the curve of his mouth, the tired set of his eyes.

“Where’s this coming from?” he asked gently.

His friend shrugged, eyes still on him. “Just… stuff resurfacing. Old stuff. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“It matters if it’s still keeping you up,” Jimin said. “Talk to me.”

“I was thinking about…” He hesitated, licked his lips, then continued, “That last relationship I had. Before the enlistment. I don’t think I ever told you much about how it ended.”

“You didn’t.” 

“Kind of badly,” Jungkook admitted, voice hushed, like saying it too loud might make it real again. “Not dramatic, just… disappointing. I kept trying to be what she needed, and I thought I was doing okay, but it never felt quite right… Like I was never the right amount of something.”

Jimin listened, struck by the rawness of it, by the fact that he had never said anything about this before—not to him. And they had shared so much. Music. Laughter. Sleep. Years. His chest tightened.

“You’re not—”

Jungkook glanced at him, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I know. I’m not fishing for comfort. I just— I guess I’d been wondering if I was even good at this. Being close to someone. Being enough for someone.”

There was a fragile silence that settled between them, broken only by the wind brushing against the cabin.

“You’re not too much,” Jimin said, firm and sincere. “Or too little. You’re exactly who you should be.”

Jungkook huffed a soft, ironic sound. “You’re biased.”

“So what,” Jimin retorted. “You care deeply. You remember the things that matter. You show up for people, always. You’re…” He swallowed. “You’re one of the easiest people to love that I’ve ever known.”

It was too dark to see Jungkook’s eyes, but the way he swallowed spoke volumes. He breathed in like he wanted to believe that. Like maybe, coming from him, it could be true.

“I always felt safe with you,” he said after a beat, barely above a whisper. “Being like this. Feeling loved in all the right ways.”

Jimin’s throat felt tight. He didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything.

The room was quiet but full — not with noise, but with presence. The kind of silence that wasn’t empty at all.

Jimin shifted slightly closer, the edge of his fingers brushing over Jungkook’s cheek in a slow, tentative sweep. It wasn't calculated, not even fully conscious — just instinct, soft and soothing. A thumb traced along his temple once, barely there.

Jungkook closed his eyes at the touch, breath easing, like something inside him unclenched. Jimin watched him. Watched the way his lashes rested against his cheek. The way his lips parted on an exhale. And something in his chest twisted, gently, achingly.

Had he always been like this with me?

He wasn’t sure why the question hit so hard — maybe because the answer crept in so easily.

Yes.

All the little things started replaying like highlights in his mind:

The way he always noticed when Jimin was overwhelmed and wordlessly handed him water.

The way he’d nudged his shoulder when he was sad, just enough to say ‘I’m here.’

The endless late-night chats during enlistment — small talk stretched into hours.

The dumb inside jokes no one else got.

The quiet glances from across practice rooms.

The way Jungkook always laughed hardest at his worst jokes.

Jimin’s heart beat loud in the stillness. Maybe it had always been there, waiting in the spaces between. Waiting for them to stop pretending they didn’t feel it.

He didn’t say anything. He just kept his hand there a moment longer before pulling back slightly — not far. Just enough to let them breathe in the closeness. His hand slipped back under the blanket, fingers brushing again.

And eventually, they drifted off again — not tangled this time, but gently threaded together in the dark, with something new, something honest between them.

The silence now was warm and they fell asleep like that — hands joined between them, breathing the same quiet air, and carrying each other’s weight just a little lighter.

The morning light was gentle — the kind that filtered through soft curtains and painted everything in warm gold. It crept slowly into the cabin, brushed over the wooden floors, across the bed, and finally, over Jimin’s face.

He blinked his eyes open, barely. Just enough to orient himself.

Jungkook’s hand was still in his. Their fingers were loosely laced together beneath the blanket, palms warm where they’d been pressed all night. Jimin could feel the steady rhythm of his breathing. He was still asleep— his brows relaxed, lips parted just slightly, hair a tousled halo.

Jimin didn’t move. Didn’t dare.

Instead, he stayed there, half curled toward him, letting the moment stretch. There was a quiet weight in his chest, not heavy, just full with everything he wasn’t ready to say out loud.

Their faces were so close that if he‘d lifted his chin just a little their lips would meet. Softly. Easily. It wouldn’t take anything at all.

The thought made his pulse skip. He felt the rise and fall of Jungkook’s chest underneath his palm, the way one of his hands twitched in his sleep, like even in rest he was still reaching for something.

Or someone. He immediately felt the heat rise in his cheeks.

He didn’t move. Just stayed there in that sliver of peace, hoping the outside world wouldn’t call them back just yet.

After a breezy breakfast on the terrace — fruit platters, fresh rice, and a suspicious amount of coffee for how early it was — the retreat group was herded toward an open clearing surrounded by trees. A large table had been set up with craft materials, small wooden boards, tools, and printed instructions.

A cheerful facilitator clapped their hands.

“Today’s challenge is all about communication and collaboration. You and your partner will follow these instructions”—they held up a thin manual—“to build a functional birdhouse, plant box, or… whatever this ends up being.”

Laughter circled the group.

Jimin groaned quietly. “This is going to end in bloodshed.”

Jungkook smirked, already rolling up his sleeves. “Only if you stab me with a mini screwdriver again.”

They chose a moderately complicated birdhouse design, confident at first… until the instructions turned out to be translated a little too loosely.

Jimin squinted at the guide. “Why are the steps in this weird order? Step four says ‘Apply wing’? What wing??”

Jungkook, smug: “That's why you read ahead. We skipped step two.”

“You skipped step two.”

“We’re a team, remember?”

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re dramatic, Chim. Pass the glue.”

But despite the back-and-forth, they settled into a rhythm. Jimin carefully painted little blue accents while Jungkook assembled the pieces, tongue poking out slightly in concentration. 

There was brushing shoulders, hands passing tools back and forth without needing to ask. A few glances lingered longer than they should have.

At one point, Jimin muttered, “You’re really good at this…”

Jungkook didn’t look up. “Told you. I’m good with my hands.”

Jimin froze mid-brushstroke, blushing furiously.

Yoongi and Namjoon were at the table beside them, quiet — too quiet. Where the day before had held flirtatious teasing and shared touches, today there was an odd tension.

Yoongi kept his eyes focused on their project. Namjoon laughed politely at something, but his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Their birdhouse was turning out fine, but the usual harmony was missing.

Jimin noticed. He nudged Jungkook. “Are they okay?”

His partner shrugged, distracted by getting the roof to sit just right. “Maybe they’re tired.”

But Jimin wasn’t convinced.

As the staff walked around inspecting, they paused at their table.

“This is beautifully done. A few creative liberties, but impressive teamwork.”

Jimin and Jungkook exchanged a knowing glance. When the facilitator walked away, Jungkook bumped his shoulder against his. “Not bad for dramatic and impossible.”

Jimin scoffed. “Shut up.” But he was smiling.

After the birdhouse challenge, the group was given free time to explore the grounds, sip herbal tea under the shaded pergolas, or journal about their “experience in teamwork and communication.” Most couples scattered, some holding hands, others just wandering off.

Jimin leaned against a wooden beam near the garden path, sipping from a chilled water bottle. Jungkook had gone to grab them some snacks — something with fruit and way too much granola, probably.

From his shady spot, Jimin caught sight of Yoongi and Namjoon sitting on a bench a little ways off — and the image immediately felt off. They weren’t close like usual.

Namjoon sat forward, elbows on knees, fingers steepled like he was deep in thought. Yoongi leaned back, legs crossed, arms folded across his chest. His sunglasses were on, but Jimin didn’t need to see his eyes to know he was guarded.

His body language usually spoke volumes.

They were talking but not smiling. No teasing. Namjoon gestured with one hand — like he was trying to explain something. The other barely moved.

Jimin’s brows furrowed. He wasn’t eavesdropping exactly, but the air between them hummed with something heavy.

Just then, Jungkook returned, balancing a plate of snacks. “Why are you frowning at the bushes?” he asked, popping a dried mango into his mouth.

Jimin nodded toward the bench. “They’re off.”

His friend followed his gaze. “Yeah. I felt it earlier too.” They both watched for a second longer.

Then Namjoon stood abruptly, rubbing a hand over his face. He said something — voice low but intense — before walking off in the opposite direction. Yoongi didn’t follow. He just sat there, jaw tight, gaze unmoving behind the sunglasses.

Jimin’s chest tightened with something unfamiliar — concern, maybe. Or fear that what they were doing — this whole fake dating thing — could lead somewhere equally tangled and confusing, if even they could start to crumble.

Jungkook’s voice was soft beside him. “Wanna give them some space?”

“Yeah.”

After a slow lunch the group regathered at the edge of a forest clearing. The air was warm, dappled sunlight slipping through the canopy above, and retreat staff were already setting up what looked like a low-key obstacle course: stepping stones, balance beams.

Each couple was handed a silky blindfold.

Jungkook immediately smirked. “You trust me?”

Jimin narrowed his eyes. “Do I have a choice?”

“Not if you want to win,” he replied, already motioning for Jimin to turn around.

He sighed but let him tie the blindfold over his eyes. His other senses heightened instantly — the feel of soft ground beneath his feet, the distant hum of cicadas, the subtle shift in the air whenever Jungkook moved nearby.

“Okay,” his friend said, voice low. “Take one small step forward.”

Jimin obeyed. “If I fall and hurt my other ankle—”

“I’ll carry you through the next challenge and win by default.”

They navigated slowly at first. Jungkook’s voice was steady, guiding him step by step.

“Left foot forward… good. Now a bit to the right. Okay, now trust me—just one hop over that little log.”

Jimin grumbled. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Maybe I like bossing you around.”

“Rude.”

About halfway through, Jimin misjudged a step. His foot slipped on a patch of moss, and he stumbled forward with a startled yelp —

— only for Jungkook to catch him with a grunt and a laugh, arms wrapping securely around his waist as they crashed gently into one another.

“Whoa, hyung,” he laughed, holding him tight. “I said one hop, not your whole body.”

Jimin’s laugh bubbled out, unguarded. His fingers curled instinctively around his arms as he breathed out a shaky chuckle.

“You caught me,” he murmured.

“Always.”

The silence that followed was soft, not awkward. Just the sound of Jimin’s breathing and the closeness between them.

Eventually, Jungkook helped him straighten, brushing off imaginary dust. “Still wanna win?” he asked.

Jimin smiled, cheeks slightly flushed under the blindfold. “Let’s go.” They finished the course together, tripping once more from laughing too hard.

When he finally pulled the blindfold off at the end, the sun hit Jungkook’s grin just right — and he had to look away for a second, his heart suddenly beating a little too fast.

They had just wrapped up their turn — Jimin still laughing from where he’d nearly toppled into a flower bush. They’d been smug about their chemistry, brushing invisible dust off each other’s shoulders and exchanging grins.

Then it was Namjoon and Yoongi’s turn.

At first, it looked normal. Namjoon adjusted the blindfold, voice calm, confident. “I’ve got you,” he said, like he always did.

Yoongi smirked faintly. “You better.” He gave a skeptical glance. “You’re sure about this?” he muttered, voice low but tense.

Namjoon looked over at him, a soft chuckle escaping. “What, after twelve years you don’t trust me to lead?”

Yoongi scoffed. “It’s not about trust. It’s about focus. Which you seemed to be lacking lately.”

Namjoon stiffened at the comment but shrugged it off, stepping into the starting position. “Ready?” he asked, clearly trying to keep it light.

The first few steps went smoothly — Namjoon called the instructions clearly, and Yoongi followed without issue. But the longer they went, the more tense it got. 

Namjoon’s voice grew more strained, and Yoongi’s responses became clipped. At one point, the younger instructed to take a sharp turn.

Yoongi hesitated. “Was that left or right?”

“Right,” Namjoon said again— too late.

Yoongi fumbled. “Damnit, Joon!”

“Hyung, you didn’t listen,” Namjoon said, his tone a little sharper now. “You missed the turn.”

Yoongi snapped back, his voice rising. “No, you fucked up the instruction. I was listening just fine.”

The staff exchanged uncomfortable looks, and even the other couples had started to murmur. The playful challenge between the hyungs had shifted into something sharper.

“I said right,” Namjoon repeated, frustration clear in his voice. “I can’t guide you if you’re not willing to listen.”

Yoongi clenched his fists, visibly upset now. “I heard you the first time,” he gritted out, words thick with tension. “I’m not an idiot.” The atmosphere thickened, the air between them heavy with irritation.

The instructor, sensing the tension, stepped in. “Maybe we should take a step back,” they suggested, trying to de-escalate. “Let’s reset and—”

But Namjoon’s voice rose again. “Just listen.”

“You said it after I’d already moved!” Yoongi snapped, pausing mid-course. “You’re not even focused. You keep hesitating.”

Namjoon exhaled sharply. “Because I’m trying not to trip you—sorry if I don’t want to drag you face-first into a tree.”

Yoongi turned slightly, despite the blindfold. “Don’t condescend to me. You’ve been distracted all day.”

“I’m distracted?” Namjoon barked a laugh, bitter. “You’ve been moody since we got here. Cold one second, clingy the next — what am I even supposed to do with that?”

Jimin and Jungkook both looked alert now.

Yoongi’s jaw clenched. “Don’t make this about me being moody. You’re the one performing for everyone. Like this is some fun adventure for you. Like it’s all fine when we’re the cute couple, but the second I don’t play along, you check out.”

Namjoon looked like he’d been slapped. “That’s not fair!” he snapped back

“No?” Yoongi pulled off the blindfold, voice rising. “Then why do you keep treating this like some fucking game we can win?”

“It’s not a game!” Namjoon shouted, startling everyone. His voice cracked with the edge of something real. “It’s you. You won’t talk to me unless it’s through a joke or a damn fruit metaphor!”

Silence fell like a dropped plate. This wasn’t pretend. This was purely them, being more upset with each other than Jimin had ever seen them.

Yoongi’s eyes widened slightly. “Wow,” he said, voice tight. “Okay. You know what? If you’re so tired of my moods, maybe you should’ve come here alone.”

“Maybe I should’ve...HyUk”

Yoongi stared at him for a breathless second. Then turned around and walked off without another word, shoulders tense. Namjoon stood there, looking wrecked. His face was pale, his chest rising and falling in anger and something else.

The instructor made an awkward attempt at damage control, but no one really heard it.

Jimin’s heart was racing in his chest. “They’ve never fought like that,” he whispered.

Jungkook, unusually quiet beside him, just nodded. “Something’s not right.” And for the first time since arriving, the easy comfort of the retreat felt more like a performance they were all struggling to hold together.

The instructor hesitated, then began to speak again. “Okay, let’s give them a moment, everyone. Take a breather, and we’ll reconvene in a few.”

The others looked uneasy, but they took a step back, giving them space. Namjoon’s usually composed face was taut with uncertainty as he watched Yoongi leave, his shoulders heavy.

The group had scattered after the tension-filled obstacle course. A few couples murmured awkwardly by the tea station. Others took the hint and disappeared to their cabins. 

Jungkook had offered to check in on Yoongi, his face drawn with concern. That left Jimin standing near the garden’s edge, watching Namjoon stare off at the woods like the trees held answers.

He walked over slowly, his heart still rattling from the outburst. “Hyung?”

Namjoon blinked, as if surprised he wasn’t alone, then offered a tired smile. 

“Hey, Chim.”

Jimin nudged his shoulder lightly. “Come walk with me?”

They wandered down one of the quiet side paths lined with stone lanterns and moss-covered benches. The silence was soft, but not heavy.

After a minute, Jimin spoke. “That was intense.”

Namjoon exhaled a breath through his nose. “Yeah. Sorry you had to see that.”

“I don’t care about that. I care about you two. Are you okay?”

Namjoon stopped beside a bench, sitting down and resting his elbows on his knees. He stared at the gravel for a long moment before answering.

“It’s not really about the retreat. Or even us, together,” he said finally. “It’s... everything outside of here. The comeback. The pressure. The way everything just picked up like we’d never left.” 

He dragged a hand through his hair. “Yoongi’s always needed quiet to breathe. And I—I haven’t really been giving him that. I was too focused on a smooth transition, to keep things running the way it used to be.”

Jimin sat beside him, quiet.

“As soon as I noticed something was off, I kept pushing,” Namjoon admitted. “Trying to connect. To keep us talking. Keep us close. But it’s like every time I reach out, I end up crossing a line.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I kept thinking if I could just get him to open up, it would fix things. That we’d go back to what we were before enlistment.”

“But that version of you is gone now,” Jimin murmured.

Namjoon looked at him, surprised—but nodded. “We’ve changed over the past few years. All of us. And maybe I didn’t want to admit that. Maybe I thought if we just pretended things were fine, they’d become fine again.”

“You always try to fix stuff,” Jimin said softly.

Namjoon chuckled dryly. “Yeah. Even people. Even when they don’t need fixing—just space.” They sat in silence for a moment, the wind rustling the trees around them.

“Do you think you two will be okay?” Jimin asked, worried.

His friend leaned back against the bench, eyes toward the sky. “We always are. Eventually. He just needs time. And I need to stop trying to manage his healing like it’s my job.”

Jimin reached out, covering his hand briefly with his own. “You’re a good friend, hyung. Just maybe let yourself be one, instead of trying so hard to earn it. You’re already doing enough. You are enough. ”

Namjoon smiled, this time a little warmer. “You’re getting wise, little Jiminie.” They shared a quiet laugh—and in that moment, the world didn’t feel so cracked.

His friend leaned forward again, hands clasped loosely. “He’s always been the one person I don’t want to mess up with. I’d rather fight the whole world than fight him.”

Jimin nodded slowly. “I get that.”

Namjoon turned to look at him, brows lifting a little. “You do?”

Jimin hesitated, eyes dropping to his lap. His voice came out softer. “Yeah. There’s someone I feel like that about too.”

A pause. Just long enough for meaning to sink in. He watched him with a new kind of understanding. “You’re scared to mess it up?”

Jimin nodded once. “Every damn day.”

Namjoon exhaled through his nose, this time not with frustration—but with something gentler. “Funny how we can tour the world, serve in the military and still get terrified of one person.”

Jimin gave him a crooked little smile. “Terrified is the perfect word.”

Namjoon leaned back again, watching the shifting light through the trees. “You don’t have to have all the answers yet, Chim. Neither do we. But if it’s real it’ll survive the awkward parts too.”

Jimin tilted his head, narrowing his eyes just slightly. “Maybe we’re not just scared of messing it up,” he said slowly, “we’re scared of rejection.”

“That’s not—”

“Hyung,” he cut in gently, “you just said you’d rather fight the whole world than fight Yoongi. That sounds a lot like fear.”

Namjoon opened his mouth. Closed it again. His jaw worked as if chewing the thought, wrestling with it. “It’s not rejection in general,” he said eventually, voice lower now. “It’s his rejection. I don’t care what anyone else thinks of me — never really have.” He let out a dry laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. 

Jimin softened, the earlier bite fading into quiet understanding. “So you push. Even when he needs space.”

Namjoon sighed. “Because I can’t stand the thought of him pulling away.”

“He’s not pulling away, he just needs a second to breathe.”

Namjoon nodded, eyes distant. “Yeah. But what if in the space he takes... he realizes he doesn’t want this anymore?”

Jimin was quiet for a moment, then said simply, “You love him.” Namjoon exhaled, a quiet admission in itself. “Yeah,” he said finally. “He’s like the weird big brother I never had.”

The breeze rustled through the trees again. The distant hum of voices and nature returned to the silence they shared — a little heavier, but also a little clearer. They let that settle between them. 

Chapter Text

The morning air was crisp, and the sun still low in the sky, casting a soft glow over the retreat grounds. Jimin was standing beside Jungkook, both of them dressed in comfortable clothes. 

But it was a retreat. Everything had to feel special, right?

They had just finished a light breakfast and gathered with the group in the outdoor gazebo, where the staff were setting up for the day’s activity. The air smelled faintly of pine and fresh grass as they took their places, waiting for the instructions to begin.

Jimin blinked, still a little dazed from the strange moment they had shared. His mind was caught in a whirlwind of thoughts, most of which kept circling back to the odd feeling that had settled between him and Jungkook. 

He tried to shake it off, but as his eyes drifted toward the space around them, a thought suddenly began to nag at him.

Where are the hyungs?

It felt strange not having them around. He and Jungkook had been immersed in the activities all morning, but he hadn’t seen Yoongi or Namjoon since the previous night. It had been a while since the older pair had actually been in the same place as them, which was unusual given how much they had been sticking together throughout the retreat.

“Hey,” Jimin asked, his voice a little quieter, “Have you seen the others this morning?”

Jungkook looked up, slightly distracted. “Nope,” he said with a shrug. “Haven’t seen them all morning. They are probably doing their own thing after last night.”

Jimin chewed on his bottom lip, trying not to overthink it. After last night... He glanced around the room and then back at Jungkook. It had only been a day since their group’s trust obstacle course incident, and the hyungs’ fight had felt heavier than anything they had seen before. 

He wondered if maybe it was still weighing on them. He could have asked Jungkook about it, but something told him that this was one of those things best left alone for now.

“You think they’re okay?” Jimin asked, his voice quiet, almost uncertain.

Jungkook’s expression softened, and he leaned back. “Yeah,” he said, his voice laced with reassurance. “They’ll figure it out. They always do.”

Jimin nodded, though a tiny knot in his stomach didn’t quite loosen. Maybe it was just the tension of the retreat making him overthink. He was probably just projecting his own discomfort about everything with Jungkook. 

The thought sent a slight blush to his cheeks. He quickly tried to distract himself by thinking about something else.

His friend, noticing the shift in his mood, placed a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, you’re okay, right?” His tone was more serious now, concern flickering in his eyes. “You’ve been kinda off this morning. You can talk to me, you know?”

Jimin looked up at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. It was more than just playful teasing. It was the kind of care he hadn’t realized he had been craving.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Jimin replied, smiling reassuringly. “Just been a lot to take in. Between the cooking challenge, the trust course, and—well—everything else.”

Jungkook nodded, understanding. “Yeah, I get that. It’s a lot for anyone. But hey, we‘re doing fine, right? We're handling it.”

Jimin gave him a small, genuine smile, feeling the warmth of his friend’s support seep into him. “Yeah. We‘re good.”

But even as the words left his mouth, Jimin’s mind drifted back to their friends. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t quite right. He hoped they were just taking some space to cool down, but deep down, he wondered if something more was going on with them. 

"Good morning, couples. Today, we’re going to test your connection," one of the staff members finally announced, a smile playing on her lips as she spoke. "One of you will be blindfolded, and your partner will guide you through a series of scents. Your goal is to identify them. It’s all about trust."

Jimin raised an eyebrow. Trust?

Jungkook, ever the eager participant, was the first to volunteer. “I’ve got this,” he said, his usual mischievous grin curling at the corners of his lips.

"Of course you do," Jimin muttered with a smile, shaking his head. Jungkook handed him a blindfold, his eyes twinkling. “Ready to see just how much you actually trust me?”

Jimin rolled his eyes, his heart skipping slightly in his chest at the playful challenge in his voice. "Let’s just get this over with."

Jungkook tied the blindfold around his eyes with a quick flick of his wrist, settling it securely as the retreat staff moved around, readying their assortment of oils, herbs, and spices. Jimin stood by, waiting for the first scent to be presented.

It was sweet—something floral. “Lavender,” he guessed, his voice confident, as though he had never doubted it for a second.

Jimin laughed, relieved by the ease of the moment. “You’re on fire.”

The second scent was more earthy, as Jimin handed him a small jar of crushed herbs. Jungkook inhaled deeply, his expression focused.

"Basil,” he said immediately.

“You’re just showing off now.”

They moved quickly through a few more scents—lemongrass, citrus, cardamom—and every time, Jungkook guessed correctly without missing a beat. Jimin felt a sense of pride that he had chosen things his friend knew so well. 

Later, it was Jimin’s turn to be blindfolded. Jungkook’s voice filled his ears, playful yet calm, as he adjusted the blindfold carefully over his eyes. The fabric felt cool against his skin, the darkness absolute.

“Don’t worry, my sweet lemon pie,” Jungkook teased, his tone laced with amusement. “I won’t go too hard on you.”

Jimin blushed immediately and chuckled softly, though his heart skipped a beat as he settled into the unfamiliarity of being completely blind, relying solely on his senses. He couldn’t see Jungkook’s face, but he could feel his presence, feel the space between them shrink as he stepped closer.

The first scent came, and Jimin breathed it in deeply. Jasmine. He smiled, relaxing a little. This was simple. He guessed immediately.

“Correct,” Jungkook replied, his voice light and teasing. “That was too easy for you, wasn’t it?”

Jimin snorted, rolling his shoulders to loosen up. “I’ve known Jin for about fifteen years now. He’s basically always wearing the same cologne.”

The second scent arrived—something citrusy. Orange, maybe. It felt fresh, sharp against his nose. Jimin inhaled again, more confident this time.

“Tangerine,” he said with a grin. “Yoongi would’ve loved this.”

“Got it. You’re on fire, baby,” Jungkook praised, his voice filled with genuine admiration.

Jimin felt himself puff up a little with pride. “Obviously. Keep ’em coming, Kookoo.”

Jungkook chuckled, then handed him another scent. A familiar spiciness filled the air, and Jimin let it linger, closing his eyes and breathing it in. His mind clicked into focus, and he announced the answer with a smirk, “Cardamom. Easy.”

“Okay, okay,” Jungkook huffed, moving around him, footsteps light. “Next one.”

He brought up the next scent to Jimin’s face. It was subtle, but familiar, the comforting scent of his cologne. It was the scent that had been there for as long as Jimin had known him, mixed with something uniquely him. And suddenly, it was all he could focus on.

He froze. He could feel the heat from his skin, could hear the shift in his breathing, and his own pulse began to race. His fingers itched to reach out, to grasp something, but he didn’t. He just breathed, heavily, trying to ignore the strange tension thickening the air between them.

“Bro, it’s just you,” Jimin said, his voice unsteady, though he tried to keep it light.

Jungkook’s grin was audible in his voice as he replied, “You do know me well.”

Jimin’s breath caught in his throat. His heart pounded as his mind raced, trying to make sense of the jolt of recognition that cut through him. The scent. The familiarity. The warmth. The way his body instinctively reacted to being this close.

Jimin stuttered, “I—uh—yeah. Obviously, duh.”

His ears burned. He could feel his face turning red, and he was sure that Jungkook must have noticed. His hands were a little too stiff at his sides, his breath a little too shallow.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, Jungkook laughed. It was a little too loud, a little too forced. “You’re, uh, really good at this,” he said, trying to brush it off, though his voice faltered ever so slightly.

Jimin laughed too, but it was just as unnatural, a bit too high-pitched as he scrambled to compose himself. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, and it was a wonder no one could hear it. He tried to focus on something else, anything else.

“Okay, okay,” Jungkook said after a beat, his voice a little quieter now. He reached out and removed the blindfold from his face, but he didn’t immediately open his eyes. He stayed there for a moment longer, letting his breathing slow, trying to regain his composure.

When he finally opened his eyes, his friend was looking at him, his gaze soft, like he was trying to gauge whether Jimin was okay. The playful smirk was still there, but it was muted now, replaced by something else.

“Are you okay, shorty?” he asked, his voice quieter, a bit more serious.

Jimin blinked, catching his breath. “Yeah… just, uh…” He took a moment, then grinned awkwardly. “Just, you know, a little caught off guard. That’s all.”

“Right,” Jungkook replied with a chuckle, though the edge in his voice suggested there was something more unspoken between them. Something both of them were trying to ignore.

They stood there for a moment, the silence hanging heavy again, but this time it wasn’t as uncomfortable. It was just there, like it was waiting for something.

The lunch table was unusually quiet. Jimin glanced around, trying not to stare too hard at the empty seat where Yoongi usually sat. Jungkook, sitting beside him, seemed to notice his quietness but didn’t say anything.

“Still no hyung?” Jimin murmured, more to himself than anyone else, though his voice carried across the table.

Namjoon, who had been quietly picking at his food, glanced up at him, then back down at his plate. He didn’t seem particularly surprised by the question, but there was a heaviness in his eyes.

“No,” he replied, his voice uncharacteristically low. “He’s still... not here.”

The others around the table continued to eat and chat, but Jimin’s attention stayed fixed on Namjoon, noticing the subtle shift in his demeanor. Something was different today—like he was carrying more weight than usual.

“Are you two okay?” Jimin asked hesitantly, not wanting to pry too deeply but feeling compelled to check in.

Namjoon looked up, his expression a mixture of frustration and resignation. He exhaled softly and pushed his food aside. “The staff stepped in this morning. They gave us an ultimatum.”

Jimin raised an eyebrow. “An ultimatum?”

His friend nodded, leaning back in his chair slightly, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Either we attended a couple’s therapy session, or leave. It was... a lot. But we agreed.”

Jimin’s stomach sank slightly, his mind racing. The tension between them had been palpable. He had known something was off but hadn’t realized it had reached this level.

“They made you go to therapy?” Jungkook chimed in from beside him, genuinely curious.

Namjoon shrugged, his smile faint but understanding. “It was more of a reality check. Yoongi’s been under a lot of stress lately with the comeback and all. And I’ve been pushing him. I honestly don’t know what was wrong with me.”

Jimin leaned forward a little, intrigued by the sudden honesty. “What do you mean?”

Namjoon’s gaze softened, and he sighed. “I talk too much and listen too little. Especially when it mattered most. The comeback after almost two years of absence was a lot for all of us. I should’ve known better.”

Jimin felt a sharp pang of sympathy. He was used to seeing his hyung as the calm, collected leader, the one who always had everything under control. But now, Namjoon looked kind of vulnerable. It was rare, and it struck him in a way he hadn’t expected.

Jimin was quiet for a long moment, processing his words. He had always admired the way he led, how he stayed composed even in the most difficult situations. But this was different. 

He was right, they‘d all changed. Their lives but also themself.

“You’ve always been so intense,” Jimin said quietly, choosing his words carefully. “Sometimes you care too much. I mean, it’s clear you do. But... it’s a lot to handle sometimes, right?”

Namjoon nodded, his eyes meeting Jimin’s in a rare moment of understanding. “It’s easy to think you’re doing the right thing, pushing for connection. But it doesn’t work if the other person isn’t ready for it.”

Jimin’s heart felt heavier as he listened to his confession. The vulnerability in his voice was almost palpable, and it left Jimin with a sense of admiration for him.

Namjoon gave him a small, tired smile. “We’ll be fine. It’s just going to take time. Yoongi hyung and I... we always got through things like this. We’ve been through worse, you know?”

Jimin nodded, trying to process it all. He could feel how much Namjoon valued their relationship. It was humbling to see someone so strong admit their mistakes, and it made him think about how he had been with his own feelings lately.

He didn’t realize how long he’d been quiet until Jungkook nudged him. “You okay?” he asked, his voice gentle.

He managed a small smile. “Yeah… Just thinking.”

The group fell into a somewhat uncomfortable silence again.

The afternoon faded into evening, and after the conversation with Namjoon, Jimin felt the need for some space. He quietly excused himself, taking a moment to reflect. He found a quiet spot outside, breathing in the cool air, his mind swirling.

Jungkook, sensing his need for some alone time, stepped away as well. He walked off to a quiet area, his phone in hand. Jimin could see him talking to someone in the distance but didn’t think much of it. A few minutes later, he returned, his expression unreadable.

Jimin raised an eyebrow. “Who was that?”

“Tae,” he replied casually, his voice lighter now. “Just catching up with him. Getting some stuff off my chest.”

Some stuff.

Something he couldn’t have shared with him?

Jimin smiled softly, a bit unsure. “That’s sweet of you.” He tried to focus on his own thoughts, but his words stuck with him.

“Yeah,” his friend chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll tell him all about the retreat when we get back, but he’ll probably just laugh at me.”

As the evening deepened, the retreat staff led everyone into a candlelit hall, dimly lit with warm, flickering light. The atmosphere was calm and intimate, and a hush fell over the group as everyone gathered in a circle. 

The ritual was simple: each partner was tasked with sharing something they had never said aloud before—a fear, a regret, or a hope. It was supposed to help deepen their connection and push past surface-level conversations.

The silence was almost tangible as they settled into the circle, the air heavy with anticipation. The candlelight reflected in everyone’s eyes, softening the sharp edges of the world outside.

Namjoon and Yoongi were quiet as they sat across from each other. Yoongi leaned his head lightly on his friend’s shoulder, a small gesture of peace. Simply the comfort of being together. 

Their shared silence spoke volumes and Jimin felt a strange sense of warmth as Jungkook reached over to gently squeeze his hand.

As the first couple shared their thoughts—something light and humorous to break the tension—Jimin’s mind started to drift, wondering what he would say. There was so much he hadn’t told him, so much they hadn’t talked about yet.

Jimin felt the weight of the moment as it was his turn to speak. Jungkook sat beside him, his eyes soft but unreadable. He swallowed and started.

“I…” he began, hesitating, his voice cracking just slightly. It was rare for him to feel uncertain like that, but the ritual made everything feel real, and his heart beat a little faster in his chest. 

“I’m scared... that if love ever found me, I wouldn’t recognize it for what it truly was. I had been so focused on fitting into this, whatever this was—” He gestured vaguely at the space between them, “—didn’t know if I’d even know what it felt like to be loved for who I was. Like, truly loved.”

His voice faltered at the end, and he glanced quickly at his friend, unsure if he had said too much.

Jungkook was silent for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was low, almost hesitant. “Sometimes I think I already did,” he said, his words quiet but filled with something that made Jimin’s heart skip. “I think I’ve already found it. I just... hadn’t said it out loud yet.”

The world around them went still for a moment. His heart raced as his mind raced even faster. What had he just said? 

His breath caught in his throat, and he felt suddenly self-conscious, as though everyone could see how much his thoughts were unraveling.

The silence between them stretched, and Jimin looked at him, searching his eyes for something—anything—to confirm whether it had been a slip of the tongue. But Jungkook only looked back, his gaze soft, maybe even a little apprehensive, waiting for his response.

The air felt too thick to breathe. Jimin wanted to say something, but the words were stuck in his throat. Did he mean what he had said? Or was it still just pretend?

His mind spun in a thousand directions, but the sound of the staff guiding the group to move on helped pull him back to the present. He took a slow breath and turned his focus to the others in the room, the quiet weight of Jungkook’s words still lingering between them.

The ritual continued, and Yoongi and Namjoon were next, but they didn’t say much. Like there was nothing left unsaid. They didn’t share a verbal confession, but there was something in the way they sat together—no need for words when simply existing with each other was already enough.

As the night came to a close, the candles flickered softly in the background, casting dancing shadows on the walls. Jimin felt a strange sense of calm settle over him, a feeling that they had all grown just a little bit closer in that space.

The couples began to mingle, but Jimin couldn’t help but steal glances at Yoongi and Namjoon. Jungkook, standing beside him, leaned down toward his ear, his voice low and teasing. “So, how did I do?”

Jimin laughed softly, still feeling the quiet weight of his own confession. “You did great. I never expected you to be so vulnerable with all of us.” Jungkook smirked, but his eyes were warm, and he could feel how genuine the moment was between them.

“Yeah, well,” his friend shrugged, “I’m learning to let go. And you know, I’ve got you to practice with.”

Jimin’s heart skipped a beat. It was a casual comment, but it hit differently after this. He felt his pulse quicken slightly, but he didn’t say anything, just smiled, trying to savor the moment.

The group lingered in the garden after the Reconnection Ritual, the air cool and tinged with the soft twilight. The retreat grounds were quiet, save for the faint sounds of wind rustling through the trees and the occasional soft murmur of the others. The mood was peaceful, almost serene. 

Jimin, still slightly lost in thought, stood off to the side, his mind still spinning. He barely registered the soft footsteps approaching him until a voice broke through his thoughts.

"Excuse me, Jimin," came a smooth voice. He blinked and turned, looking up at one of the retreat instructors. Her smile was wide and friendly. She was one of those effortlessly stunning people, with a calm energy that was only amplified by the soft lighting of the garden.

She looked at him with an almost knowing expression. “I just wanted to say, you have such a sensitive aura, very gentle,” she continued, her tone a mix of admiration and something else he couldn’t quite place.

He felt his cheeks warm a little, and he offered a polite smile, trying to keep his composure. "Thank you," he said, his voice slightly flustered.

She continued to talk, asking him about his experiences and how he was feeling after the session. Jimin, still trying to remain polite, found himself laughing lightly, but there was a part of him that was distracted by how different this conversation felt from the one he had just shared with Jungkook. 

His heart was still a little unsettled from their exchange, and now, this new attention was making him feel both flustered and strangely aware of the space between them as friends or… something else?

At the corner of his eye, he saw Jungkook standing a few steps away, watching them. His posture was rigid, and his jaw clenched, the tension in his body almost palpable. Jimin felt a slight pang of confusion at the way he was reacting. 

Why was he looking like that?

Jungkook quickly averted his eyes, but the momentary flash of tension in his gaze didn’t escape him. Something was off, and the realization made the air between him and the instructor suddenly feel much heavier. 

Was he jealous? If so, why was it so hard to ignore?

 But before he could dwell on it for too long, Jungkook’s voice cut through the tension.

“Time to go, babe?” he asked, his tone a little too casual, though the subtle tightness around his mouth betrayed the irritation simmering just under the surface. “You promised me a sexy massage.”

Did he? Jimin got a little flustered.

He blinked, his eyebrow lifting slightly at the phrasing. He suppressed a grin, both amused and intrigued by the sudden attempt at possessiveness — though it was clear he was trying (and failing) to mask it behind an overly cheerful attitude.

The instructor, sensing the shift in energy, offered a polite nod and stepped away. “Of course, I won’t keep you,” she said, still smiling. “It was lovely chatting with you, Jimin.”

He smiled, nodding politely. “Thanks for your kind words.”

As they began walking away, he couldn’t help but glance at Jungkook, who was now staring straight ahead, hands shoved into his pockets. His mood was still a little off, but Jimin wasn’t sure how to address it.

“You were a little extra possessive back there, Kookoo,” he teased lightly, nudging him with his shoulder. “You jealous?” 

It was meant as a lighthearted joke and Jungkook’s response was a nonchalant shrug, but the slight reddening of his ears betrayed him. “I was just trying to save our wholesome retreat image.” He added a chuckle, but it wasn’t quite as convincing as he may have hoped.

Jimin couldn’t help but laugh, feeling the playful tension between them ease, but there was still that quiet curiosity about what was really going on in Jungkook’s mind.

Chapter Text

The room was dim and golden with candlelight, soft instrumental music playing in the background — gentle strings, the occasional wind chime. Mats were arranged neatly across the hardwood floor, each paired with a small basket of oils and a folded towel.

Jimin swallowed as he and Jungkook entered and took their place. The scent of sandalwood and lavender wrapped around them, warm and grounding. It was supposed to be relaxing. 

It didn’t feel that way.

They sat cross-legged for a moment, glancing around. Other couples were already stretching, chatting quietly. The instructor, a calm-voiced woman in flowy linen, spoke from the front of the room.

“Today’s focus is on touch — grounding, mindful connection. Use your hands to listen, not just to soothe.”

Jimin tried not to look too hard at his partner when they were told to decide who would go first. Jungkook raised an eyebrow. “Want me to be your guinea pig?”

Jimin laughed under his breath. “Sure. Try not to moan too loud.”

His friend just grinned and lay down on his stomach, pulling his robe down off his shoulders to expose the smooth skin of his back.

Jimin hesitated only a moment before kneeling beside him. He poured a little oil into his hands, warmed it between his palms, and placed his fingers gently at the base of his neck.

The first touch was cautious — testing. The skin was warm and soft, the tension in his shoulders immediate beneath Jimin’s hands.

“You’re so tense,” he murmured.

Jungkook hummed in response. “Hard not to be, with you touching me like that.”

His breath caught. He didn’t respond — just pressed in a little deeper, working the knots along the spine.

It was quiet, aside from Jungkook’s soft, involuntary sighs. The sound made his stomach flutter.

“You’re good at this,” he said after a while, voice muffled against the mat. “You’ve got, like…really gentle hands.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“You know it is.”

Jimin worked his way down, kneading the muscles along the shoulder blades, down the ridge of his back. It felt too intimate. The way Jungkook’s breathing slowed. The way his body relaxed completely under his care.

“This okay?” Jimin asked softly.

“Yeah,” his friend breathed. “It’s… nice. I feel like I‘m melting.”

The sounds he made — low, grateful, unguarded — rattled something deep in. He shouldn’t have been reacting like this. This was supposed to be pretend. 

He noticed how Jungkook’s hair fell over his cheek, how his lashes fluttered when his touch grazed a sensitive spot. He wanted to memorize the way he looked right then — soft and vulnerable in his hands.

Then it was time to switch.

Jungkook rose slowly, his eyes hazy with relaxation, and they traded places. Jimin‘s face turned to the side, cheek resting against the mat. He closed his eyes, trying to steady his pulse.

Jungkook’s hands were firmer. Confident and warm.

The moment his fingers grazed his back, Jimin forgot how to breathe.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” his partner said, quieter now.

“It’s fine. Feels good,” Jimin murmured, eyes still shut.

Jungkook moved in slow, deliberate strokes, working into his shoulders, down his arms. Jimin’s skin tingled where he touched him. It wasn’t just pressure.

He flinched slightly when Jungkook’s thumb brushed just beneath his shoulder blade — a spot no one had really touched before. He shivered.

The other leaned closer, his voice suddenly close to his ear.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Jimin said, but his voice was thinner than before.

There was a pause. And then the hands stilled.

Jimin opened his eyes. Turned his head. His friend was crouched next to him, face barely a breath away.

And for a moment — he leaned in.

Jimin could feel the heat of his breath, see every fleck of gold in his eyes. But just before contact, he pulled back like he’d been burned.

“We said no real feelings,” he whispered.

A beat passed. Jungkook swallowed, nodded once, expression unreadable.

“Right.” He laughed it off softly.

They returned to the massage, but his touch was more distant now. Lighter, more carefully and the rest of the session passed in a haze.

The retreat grounds were quiet that night, blanketed in a velvety dark. The trees swayed gently in the breeze, casting restless shadows along the pathways. Jimin lay in bed for a while, staring up at the ceiling, the memory of soft hands on his skin still burned into his body. 

The tension of the day hadn’t faded — if anything, it had settled into something thicker.

Jungkook never came to bed.

At first, he had assumed he just needed some air — that maybe they both did — but as the clock ticked past midnight and the bed beside him remained cold, unease tugged at his chest.

He slipped on his jacket and stepped outside.

The air was cool, and the soft crunch of his footsteps on gravel echoed too loudly in the quiet. Most of the cabins were dark. The campfire pit was just embers. But then — there.

On the wooden veranda of the main building Jimin saw a slouched figure against the railing, legs stretched out and head tilted back. For a breathless second, he thought Jungkook was just stargazing — until he saw the phone still in his hand, the screen glowing faintly.

Jimin approached slowly.

His friend had passed out. Peacefully, but clearly exhausted. The gentle rise and fall of his chest was steady. He bent down carefully, not wanting to startle him, but curiosity flickered when he noticed the name still lingering on the screen:

“Tae 🐻”

The call had lasted over an hour. Something sharp and unexpected twisted in Jimin’s chest. He didn’t know why — or maybe he did, but didn’t want to name it.

Jealousy.

It burned quietly under his skin. A dull ache of being left out. Of realizing that his friend had needed to talk tonight — just not to him.

He crouched next to him, fingers brushing lightly against Jungkook’s to check if he was cold. He wasn’t. Just deeply asleep. Drained, maybe.

He sighed, leaning his back against the railing beside him, staring out into the darkness.

“You could’ve told me, you know,” he murmured, not expecting an answer.
“You always used to tell me everything.”

The night didn’t respond. Just the wind.

Jimin closed his eyes for a moment, the weight of the last few days catching up to him in waves — the touches that didn’t feel fake anymore, the accidental intimacy, the confusion, the closeness that had started to feel like a need.

He didn’t know what they were anymore. And worse — he was starting to realize he didn’t want it to be pretend at all.

At breakfast the next day, the mood was unmistakably off. They sat side by side at their table with the others, plates full but mostly untouched. The hum of chatter from other couples filled the room, but between them, it was silent.

No teasing. No inside jokes. No nudging knees under the table. Just the occasional clink of a coffee cup being set down too hard.

Jimin stirred his coffee absentmindedly, not drinking it. He stole a glance at his friend — only to find Jungkook already looking at him. Their eyes met for a split second, and both looked away immediately.

His chest tightened. It had never felt like this before. Even in the moments of pretending, there had always been a certain ease to it. Now, it felt like they were trying not to fall off the edge of something they had never meant to climb.

Jungkook pushed his fried eggs around his plate and finally murmured something, voice barely above the hum of conversation. “Did you sleep okay?”

He hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. You?”

“Not really,” Jungkook admitted, his tone clipped but honest. They lapsed back into silence.

Neither of them could say out loud what was hanging between them — that the line between real and pretend had blurred sometime in the night, and now they didn’t know how to walk it back.

Not without changing everything. Not without the risk of hurting.

The lake was smooth as glass, mirroring the overcast sky and the soft green canopy around it. A handful of wooden rowboats bobbed at the dock, each painted in faded pastels. It was meant to be a serene bonding activity — “intentional stillness,” one facilitator had called it.

Jimin and Jungkook stepped into their assigned boat wordlessly, the silence from breakfast still trailing behind them like mist.

Jungkook took the oars without asking. Jimin settled opposite him, legs tucked, arms crossed loosely. The only sound for a while was the soft splash of water and creak of wood as Jungkook rowed them toward the center of the lake.

A few boats away, Namjoon and Yoongi drifted quietly, their conversation low and calm, a far cry from the tension of the day before. Yoongi’s head was tipped back, sunglasses on, mouth twitching faintly at something Namjoon said. The peace between them had returned, tentative but real.

Jungkook finally broke the silence. “We’re being weird.”

Jimin looked at him. “We are weird.”

His friend exhaled a humorless laugh, glancing down at the oars. “Yeah, but… not like this.”

The water lapped gently against the sides of the boat. The distance between them felt too big for the tiny space. “I keep thinking about last night,” he added, voice softer now.

Jimin’s breath caught. He looked down at his hands. “Me too.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t,” Jimin interrupted gently. “Don’t explain it away.”

Jungkook’s hands tightened on the oars. The boat drifted for a moment, directionless.
“Then what do we do with it?” he asked.

Jimin didn’t answer. His heart pounded like it was trying to break out of his ribs. His eyes flicked back to the shore, the wind stirring the trees.

“I don’t know,” he finally said. “But we don’t lie to each other. Not about this.”

Jungkook swallowed hard, nodding slowly.

The tension eased, just a little — enough for the silence between them to feel less punishing. From a boat nearby, Namjoon called out, “Hey—lovebirds—don’t row too far off or we’ll have to send a search party...again.”

Jimin snorted, the sound unexpected, almost sharp in the stillness. Jungkook grinned faintly across the boat. “I missed that sound.”

Their boat drifted closer again. No paddling. Just a kind of quiet gravity pulling them back into orbit.

They reached the little island at noon, the sun peeking through clouds, casting soft dapples over the clearing where blankets had already been set up by the retreat staff. A few rustic picnic baskets and pitchers of infused water waited under a shady tree. It was peaceful, picturesque — the kind of place that felt like it belonged in a memory before it was even over.

As everyone disembarked, Yoongi lingered back slightly, his eyes sharp despite his usual sleepy expression. He watched them with an intensity Jimin instantly recognized — the kind that saw too much.

Once the boats were tied and everyone started to settle on the grass, Yoongi pulled up beside Jimin with a casual air that fooled no one. “Something happened.”

Jimin blinked. “What? No.”

His hyung raised a brow. “You’ve barely looked at each other. And when you do, it’s like Kookie is playing one of his heartbreak ballads.”

Jimin let out a weak laugh. “You’re imagining things.”

“I don’t imagine. I observe.”

Before Jimin could craft a decent lie, Jungkook appeared at his side, handing him a bottle of water but pointedly not looking at him. Yoongi clocked the tension instantly.
“Okay…” he drawled, glancing between them. “So something definitely happened.”

Jungkook sighed through his nose and said nothing, retreating to unpack the basket with Namjoon, who was watching the whole interaction with restrained curiosity.

“It’s fine,” Jimin muttered quickly, voice low. “It’s nothing.”

Yoongi looked at him like he wanted to say more — like he could press, like he knew there was something fragile and half-broken hanging between his friends — but then he just nodded.

“If you say so.” He dropped it, for now.

When they reached the grassy clearing at the center of the island, everyone began to sprawl on blankets, passing around snacks and light jokes. The mood lifted slightly with the smell of sun-warmed fruit and herby cheeses. 

Jimin tried to pretend nothing was wrong, smiling when he needed to, laughing when it was easy. Jungkook stayed near, but not close. He felt the space between them in inches — and miles.

The heat of the afternoon drew most of the group to the shoreline, where the water glittered like scattered glass. Laughter rose as a few brave souls jumped in, splashing and chasing each other in the shallows. 

Someone suggested cliff diving from a modest outcrop nearby — Namjoon was already tugging his shirt over his head before the sentence finished.

Yoongi followed and together they climbed the rocks while the rest cheered them on from the beach. Namjoon cannonballed with flair, while Yoongi, ever precise, executed a surprisingly elegant dive that drew applause and laughter. 

For a second, everything felt light again between them — like they had remembered how to move in sync.

Jimin hung back on a beach towel under partial shade and too much sunscreen on his face, chatting with a couple from another retreat group — sweet, a little older, clearly very much in love. 

They asked innocent questions about “how long he and Jungkook had been together,” and Jimin gave practiced answers with a too-easy smile, brushing off the complicated knot in his chest.

He laughed at their jokes. He listened with genuine warmth. But his eyes kept flicking over the waterline to where Jungkook was sitting alone a little down the beach, knees hugged to his chest, watching the waves without really seeing them.

He hadn’t spoken much since breakfast.

His usual light — the bold charm, the playfulness — was dimmed, like someone had turned the volume down on him. He hadn’t touched the water. He was just… quiet.

Somehow withdrawn.

Jimin’s laughter faltered mid-sentence as he watched him. The couple beside him noticed. The woman nudged him gently and smiled.

“Sometimes the ones we care about the most are the hardest to talk to, hm?”

Jimin blinked. “Yeah,” he said, barely above a whisper. He didn’t know if he was more afraid to walk over there — or to leave Jungkook alone. Either way, something had to give soon.

The sun dipped lazily toward the horizon as the boat glided across the water, soft waves lapping gently at its sides. The group was quieter now — lulled into an easy, tired silence after a long afternoon on the island. Some were napping under towels, others chatting quietly.

Jimin did the rowing this time. The breeze played with his hair as he watched the water churn behind them, a trail leading back to everything he hadn’t been ready to face.

Jungkook was a few feet away, slouched in his seat with earbuds in, head leaned back, eyes closed. Peacefully beautiful like always.

And Jimin felt it crash into him all at once — heavy, quiet, inevitable.

There was just no other explanation anymore. He was in love.

Hopelessly. Ridiculously… Inconveniently.

He let the thought sit in his chest like a stone dropped in still water, watching the ripples move through every memory, every shared look, every lingering touch over the past days — the ones they had played off as pretending, as part of the game.

But it never really had been, had it? Not the way Jungkook had looked at him under candlelight.

Not the way he had touched him during the massage, like he already knew every inch of him.

And certainly not the way Jimin’s heart beat right now — tight, full and overwhelmed.

He swallowed hard, blinking into the breeze, eyes burning a little. There was no taking this back. No unthinking it. No pretending now. He didn’t know what Jungkook felt — not for real — but he knew what he felt. And it was terrifying.

The boat continued toward shore, the retreat still waiting for them with more games, more challenges, more pretending.

Jimin let out a slow breath and glanced at Jungkook again, just in time to catch him peeking from beneath his lashes. Their eyes met — soft, silent, knowing.

And he thought, God, I’m so screwed.

As the boat began to slow, the shore coming into view, Jimin felt the shift — not in the engine, but in the air around him.

He glanced up and found Namjoon watching him from across the water, sunglasses lowered just enough to show the arch of one eyebrow. A small, knowing smirk tugged at his lips. Not mocking — just gentle. Like he had been waiting for Jimin to catch up.

Yoongi was beside him, seemingly uninterested as he stretched his arms above his head — but he didn’t miss the way he side-eyed him through his hair. There was the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Jimin looked away quickly, heart thudding. Of course they knew. They always knew. They probably had known before he did. Maybe even before Jungkook did.

He tried to school his expression, but he could feel the warmth creeping up his neck, and he hated how transparent he must have looked. Like someone who had just had a life-altering realization and thought no one could tell — when in reality, it was written all over him.

Namjoon caught his eye again and raised his drink in a mock-toast, while Yoongi was working the paddles. Jimin tried to suppress the nervous laugh bubbling in his chest. He looked down at his hands instead, still a little shaky from the weight of what he had admitted to himself.

As the boat finally touched land, everyone started gathering their things, the peaceful lull giving way to motion and chatter.

Jimin lingered a second longer before standing, casting one more glance back at Jungkook — who was now stretching, earbuds out, eyes bright from a nap, completely unaware that the person standing a few feet away from him was barely holding himself together.

The rest of the evening they were free to spend by themselves, so the four sat together around a campfire, lazily exchanging anecdotes about their day.

The fire crackled softly as the sun disappeared beyond the trees, casting golden streaks across the sky. The scent of charred marshmallows and melting chocolate lingered in the warm night air. The four of them sat on logs around the firepit, comfortable quietness settling around them like a blanket.

Yoongi lazily poked at the fire with a stick, brows furrowed like he was trying to remember how he had gotten roped into making s’mores in the first place.

Namjoon chuckled at him, passing a slightly lopsided s’more across to Jimin. “I think this is my best one yet,” he said proudly, despite the marshmallow barely clinging to the cracker.

Jimin laughed, accepting it. “Your standards are low, hyung,” he said, but the smile reached his eyes.

Jungkook sat beside him, knees touching. It was casual. His laughter came easy that night, pitched just a little louder than usual, like he was trying to convince them all — and maybe himself — that he was fine. 

But Jimin noticed. He noticed everything.

The way Jungkook didn’t quite meet his eyes when he spoke. The pause — barely there — before answering any question that dipped below surface level. The way his hand lingered on Jimin’s lower back when he leaned past him for another skewer. The way he didn’t pull away.

And Jimin — he felt it like a pressure under his skin. Every almost-touch. Every word half-swallowed. It was too much and at the same time it wasn’t enough.

“Did you guys see the board this morning?” Namjoon said after a moment, leaning toward the fire, warming his palms. “Tomorrow’s another partner activity.”

Jungkook groaned lightly. “If it’s another ‘couples in sync’ thing, I’m done. My soul can’t take more blindfolds.”

“You loved the blindfolds,” Yoongi muttered dryly, still watching the fire. “Don’t be dramatic.”

Namjoon chuckled. “It’s probably some trust-fall variation. Or tantric breathing.”

Jimin nearly choked on his s’more. “I swear if one more instructor tells me to feel ‘the energy exchange’ through my elbow, I’m leaving.”

“Your elbow holds a lot of emotional tension,” Jungkook deadpanned, mock-serious. “It’s where I store all my repressed longing.”

Jimin’s snort turned into a laugh, but it didn’t last long — because even in joking, the word ‘longing’ landed too close to home.

Yoongi stretched, cracking his back. And then, with perfect timing and brutal subtlety, said into the warm silence: “You two look more miserable now that you’re in love, than you did when you were pretending.”

Namjoon snorted into his cup, lips twitching. Jungkook choked on his marshmallow, coughing into his fist. Jimin blinked. “What — no, that’s —”

But the words fell apart halfway through. They felt flimsy even coming out of his mouth. Like wet paper trying to hold weight.

Yoongi didn’t even look at him when he added, “You used to laugh more when you were faking it. I liked it better that way.”

The silence after that felt heavier. The fire popped softly, casting dancing shadows over their faces. No one said anything right away.

Jimin felt Jungkook beside him — warm, solid, unmoving. He stared straight ahead, eyes fixed on the fire, but his fingers were tangled together tightly in his lap. He wasn’t smiling anymore.

Jimin swallowed. The air felt too thick. His chest was tight — not with panic, but with something else. Something softer. More dangerous. Like something blooming behind his ribs and he was only just now noticing it pushing through the cracks.

He glanced sideways at Jungkook, and he, finally, met his eyes.

And in that second, Jimin knew. Knew he wasn’t imagining it. Knew he wasn’t alone in this. Knew he wasn’t pretending anymore. Hadn’t been, for a while now.

And somehow, that realization was the scariest part.

He dropped his gaze quickly, staring at the fire like it could explain any of it.

A new silence bloomed — heavier than before. The hyungs said nothing. They didn’t have to. And Jimin— he didn’t say anything either. Instead, he stood.

“I’m heading in,” he then said, his voice thinner this time. “I’m tired.” It wasn’t even a lie. He was tired. Bone-deep. But it wasn’t the kind of tired sleep could fix.

He brushed crumbs off his palms as if he needed something to do with his hands. The warm glow of the flames danced on everyone’s faces, casting soft shadows across skin— but it was all too loud, too much.

He didn’t look at anyone as he turned. Didn’t see the way Namjoon sighed softly. Didn’t catch the flash of something in Jungkook’s eyes as he watched him leave.

Jimin walked away, not rushing, but every step felt like retreat. Like he was pulling himself out of something that had wrapped too tightly around him.

By the time he got inside, the cool air hit his skin like a shock. It was quiet, still smelling faintly of bamboo and sunblock and the lingering trace of Jungkook’s cologne — like he had never really left the space.

And that was the problem. He was everywhere.

In the echo of laughter still ringing in his ears. In the warmth that still hadn’t left his lower back where Jungkook’s hand had lingered. In the way his name hung, unspoken, on Jimin’s tongue like a prayer or a warning.

He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, his forehead hitting the wood with a quiet thud. He couldn’t be around him right now. Couldn’t pretend it was fine.

He couldn’t handle the way his presence burned like fire under his skin — like he was being melted down into something raw and vulnerable.

He wrapped his arms around himself, trying to breathe evenly. But the quiet didn’t calm him — it caged him. He felt like a prisoner in his own skin.

Like his emotions were pressing up against the inside of his chest, fists against ribs, demanding to be let out. Everything was too much — the firelight on Jungkook’s face, Yoongi’s unfiltered truth, the way he hadn’t even denied it.

The way he hadn’t wanted to.

He stared at the floorboards. His hands shook just a little. Then his phone buzzed. A message from Yoongi.

‘Jk’s staying with us tonight. 

you get a break. 

don’t overthink it.’

There was no emoji. Just his care, showing up like it always did — unannounced but perfectly timed. Jimin exhaled, tension unfurling slightly in his chest. It felt like relief.

A break. 

A night without Jungkook’s presence brushing up against all the things he’d been trying not to feel. A night where he could sit with it — or avoid it — without anyone looking at him like they already knew.

He flopped onto the bed, curling up on one side, staring at the empty space beside him. Empty, but less suffocating somehow.

Still, his thoughts spiraled. And when he finally closed his eyes, it wasn’t peace that lulled him to sleep — it was exhaustion.

Physically and emotionally. 

Chapter Text

Breakfast was quiet, the kind of quiet that was filled with things no one wanted to say.

Jimin and Jungkook sat side by side at their wooden table, the clink of cutlery and distant hum of chatter from the other couples filling in the silence between them. 

They were talking again — technically — but it was all surface level. Commenting on the food, the weather, the schedule. Not the massage. Not the almost-kiss. Not the aching silence that had come after.

Jimin sipped his coffee a little too fast, hoping the heat masked the unease in his chest.

Across from them, Namjoon was explaining something about dream analysis to a very sleepy Yoongi, who wasn't even pretending to listen. Jimin was grateful for the distraction, even if it felt like watching another universe — one where things were strained, but understood.

Then, just as he was working up the nerve to ask Jungkook if he had slept alright, a cheerful voice cut through the morning buzz.

“All right, everyone!” one of the retreat leaders called, clapping her hands. “Time for something new.”

Groans echoed gently through the room. They had learned by now that “something new” usually meant emotional excavation disguised as play.

“This morning, we’re going to be doing our ‘Partner Swap Empathy Challenge’,” she continued with a too-bright smile. “Each of you will be randomly paired with someone else's partner for a few hours of exercises. The goal is to gain a little outside perspective — and maybe learn something surprising about your own dynamic in the process.”

There was a shuffle of surprise, a ripple of laughter, some wide eyes and side glances.

Jimin froze, spoon halfway to his mouth. He wasn't ready. Not for whatever this was.

But when names started getting called out, he already knew the universe wasn't on his side that day.

“Park Jimin and Min Hyuk,” the leader announced.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow at him, then shrugged, like he was already resigned to a long morning. Jimin exhaled. There was a flicker of relief.

Yoongi was safe. He wouldn't ask him things he didn’t want to answer.

Then he heard: “Jeon Jungkook and Kim Yujin.”

Jimin looked up, instinctively, just in time to see her — Yujin, from the couple in cottage 5. She was pretty, with long dark hair and a warm, flirty energy. She smiled brightly at Jungkook as they were directed to stand together.

And Jungkook didn’t hesitate. He gave her a polite nod, a soft smile, and walked over without looking back. Jimin swallowed hard.

It was fine. It was what they had signed up for. This was fake. This was still fake. It had to be. Except when he risked a glance across the group, Jungkook was already watching him.

Their eyes locked for the briefest moment, and something flickered there — something unreadable. Frustration? Regret? Maybe Hurt?

Whatever it was, it twisted in his chest like a pulled thread. He quickly looked away.

Yoongi nudged him with his elbow and muttered, “This should be fun.”

Jimin smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. Nothing did anymore. Not really.

The next activity was deceptively simple: a quiet forest walk. Each pair was instructed to maintain side-by-side steps—no rushing, no lagging—and answer a list of open-ended questions provided in a small envelope sealed with wax. 

“To deepen emotional understanding,” the facilitator had said with a serene smile.

Jimin and Yoongi set off down the mossy trail, tall trees arching overhead like a cathedral of green. The canopy filtered sunlight into dappled gold and shadow. A hush blanketed everything except the occasional crunch of their boots on fallen leaves.

At first, it was easy. The questions were warm-ups.

“What’s something you liked about today so far? … Namjoon’s ass,” he deadpanned.

He managed to make Jimin smile. Just for a second. “Of course.”

“I was joking.”

“Sure.”

“What’s a memory that made you feel safe?”

“Your ass,” Jimin grinned.

Yoongi slapped him with the envelope. Then he relaxed and, a little wry, answered in his usual fashion, tossing in just enough sincerity to keep Jimin from calling him out. 

Jimin played along, smiled at his quick wit, and gave his own half-thoughtful answers.

But as the walk stretched on, so did the silence between questions. 

The deeper into the woods they went, the more Jimin’s thoughts began to stray. It started with a flash of sound — a laugh. Distant, but unmistakable. 

Jungkook’s laugh. Bright, charming, a little cocky. 

Jimin paused just enough to glance through the trees and spot him on a parallel trail, paired with the pretty woman from that morning.

Jungkook’s head was thrown back in laughter. He said something animated, his hands moving as he talked. The woman laughed too, bumping his arm playfully.

Jimin looked away quickly, something sharp catching in his throat.

“Jealousy’s a weird feeling, huh?” Yoongi murmured beside him.

The younger didn’t answer. Just stared at the path ahead like it might distract him from the hollow ache in his chest.

They kept walking.

Yoongi pulled the next card from the envelope, read aloud, “What do you think people misunderstand about you?”

Jimin swallowed, took longer than necessary to respond. “That I‘m not serious. About things. About… people.”

Yoongi glanced over. “Yeah. You are quieter when you care. It‘s weird.”

Jimin almost laughed. “You too.”

They walked some more. The woods were beautiful, the silence deeper here. But Jimin’s mind refused to quiet.

He checked the time. Caught himself doing it again five minutes later. It wasn't about boredom. It wasn't even about Jungkook being with someone else.

It was about not being with him. That was the part he couldn't shake.

His body missed his closeness— their unspoken rhythm, the accidental touches, even the tension that had become a language of its own. But more than that, it was the emotional presence. The way Jungkook saw him, listening without needing to respond, existed beside him like a safe space.

It wasn't just about comfort anymore. It was an emotional need. A craving that sank deeper with every step away. Jimin didn’t say any of this aloud, of course.

But Yoongi glanced at him again, something knowing in his gaze. 

“You‘re not pretending anymore.”

And this time, he didn’t deny it.

“Called it,” his hyung said flatly and grinned. But it quickly turned into a knowing sigh.

They sat under the cool shade of a wide sycamore tree, the sun filtering through the leaves in lazy flickers. The afternoon had grown quieter—most of the structured activities were over, the forest humming with that gentle lull that followed a day of effort and silence. 

They had been given an “empathy deck” to go through questions meant to spark insight, connection and vulnerability or something. They went through a few of the lighter ones, joking between answers, sharing low laughter and long pauses.

But then Jimin shifted. The forest was quiet enough that his own heartbeat felt loud in his ears. He drew a card. Didn’t even read it. Instead, he set it aside and glanced at Yoongi, cautious. “Can I ask something else, hyung?”

He raised an eyebrow but nodded.

“How did it start with you and Namjoon?” he asked, his voice low but clear. “The pretending, I mean.”

Yoongi didn’t answer right away. He leaned back against the tree, eyes flicking up through the canopy like he was trying to find something in the leaves. Then he shrugged, casual as ever.

“He needed a plus one. I needed some time away. Figured we could kill two birds with one lie.”

Jimin huffed a soft laugh, but he wasn’t fooled. “And it just kept going?”

“Kept being easier than explaining things,” Yoongi said. “Besides, people stopped asking questions.”

Jimin watched him for a beat, then said quietly, “Did it ever stop feeling like a game?”

That earned a pause. Yoongi’s eyes lowered again, settling on a patch of moss between his boots. He didn’t answer the question directly.

“He talks too much,” Yoongi said instead, tone bordering on fond. “But sometimes, I like the noise.”

Jimin’s breath caught—not from surprise, but from recognition. That careful edge between affection and restraint.

Jimin turned his gaze away from the trees and back to Yoongi, a smile tugging at his lips like he was trying to make light of something already too heavy to lift.

“But how are you sure?” he asked quietly, tone gentler than before. “That you’re not falling for Namjoon?”

Yoongi didn’t answer right away. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, looking ahead like the forest might give him a better reply than he was ready to say himself.

Finally, with a small snort and the faintest shake of his head, he said, “Not everyone falls for their best friend just because they’re pretending to be in love.”

He tossed a twig at Jimin’s knee like a deflection, but his eyes flicked toward him—sharp, perceptive, maybe even a little too knowing.

Jimin didn’t respond. Couldn’t, really. The words stuck like honey at the back of his throat. Because that was exactly what he was doing, wasn’t it? 

Falling. Or already fallen.

Yoongi saw it. Of course he did. Jimin swallowed and tried to smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. 

“Right,” he said. “Of course.”

His friend let him sit with it. Didn’t press. He just leaned back again, folding his arms behind his head and closing his eyes like none of it really mattered. But there was tension in his jaw, in the way his fingers flexed against the dirt.

After a long pause, Yoongi muttered, lazily, “If I were, though… I wouldn’t be the only idiot in this place.”

The comment hung between them like fog. Jimin didn’t answer.

“You two have always been a little in love, you know.”

Jimin whipped his toward Yoongi, who was still watching the trees like he’d just commented on the weather.

“Excuse me?”

His hyung shrugged. “You and Kookie. This isn’t exactly news. You just finally noticed.”

Jimin’s mouth opened. Closed. There was a burn behind his eyes that he didn’t quite understand. “Why didn’t anyone say anything if it was that obvious?”

His friend finally looked at him then, eyes soft but matter-of-fact. “Because it‘s none of our business. Simple as that.”

Jimin blinked. Yoongi went on. “Everyone sees it. But it‘s your friendship. Your thing. And we all respected that.”

He pauses.

“Love doesn’t always come with flashing signs. Sometimes it looks like shared headphones and late-night ramyun. Sometimes it looks like a quiet kind of gravity.”

Jimin swallowed hard. 

Yoongi glanced ahead toward the trail. “And anyway,” he added with a faint smile, “you’re not the kind of person you can tell this kind of thing to. You had to see it for yourself, Dooly.” He patted his friend’s knee.

Jimin huffed out a half-laugh. He pushed a hand through his hair. “I’m so screwed.”

His neighbor just hummed. “Yup.”

They fell silent again, the kind that only existed between people who had known each other long enough not to fill it.

Then Yoongi said, without looking over: “You don’t have to rush. But don’t run from it either.”

Maybe he wouldn’t. Not this time. 

But it was easier said than done.

As the sun slipped below the trees, a bell chimed gently from the main lodge — the cue for the couples to return to one another.

They stayed like that for a while—quiet, the afternoon soft around them—before the call to regroup echoed faintly through the trees.

Time to return. To the game. To the one he wasn’t supposed to love. To the truths they still weren’t ready to name.

Jimin's pulse skipped. He hadn’t realized how much he’d been waiting for it, for him.
He scanned the gathering crowd, and there—just ahead, by the path leading down from the trails—stood Jungkook, eyes sweeping anxiously over the faces.

And the second their gazes caught, his gaze softened. He was already walking toward him before the instructors even finished their speech. Jimin took a step too, slow at first, then quicker, like it was muscle memory. Like the hours apart had made gravity stronger.

But when they met, there was a moment—just one beat too long—where neither of them said anything. 

The smile on Jungkook’s face was careful, Jimin’s was almost shy. Their usual ease was gone, replaced by something heavier. Something raw.

Then Jungkook opened his arms. And Jimin walked into them like it was the only place he was meant to be.

It wasn't dramatic. It was quiet, intentional. His friend’s arms wrapped gently but firmly around his waist, and Jimin folded his hands at the back of his neck. Their bodies slotted together like they’d done it a thousand times—and maybe they had—but this time felt different.

This time, Jimin felt everything.

The warmth of Jungkook’s chest rising with each breath. The steadiness of his hands. The quiet pressure of his fingers, not possessive, but anchoring. A silent ‘I missed you’ in the way his chin brushed briefly over Jimin’s temple.

He squeezed his eyes shut. It was overwhelming. It was grounding. It was the truth he’d been pushing down all day coming back like a flood. He realized, right there in Jungkook’s arms, just how much he had missed him.

Not for the company. Not for the act. But for him.

It was terrifying how easy it was. How natural it felt to be this close and still want more. The answer, so long avoided, slipped into place like it had always been waiting:

He loved him. He loved him like he should have. Like he wanted to.

And maybe he had for a while.

But now it felt different. Now he knew.

And knowing was the scariest part.

What if this—whatever this was between them—was already burning too fast, too close? Still, Jimin didn’t let go. Neither did Jungkook.

And for now, that had to be enough.

The stars were out, scattered like freckles across the night sky, and the retreat grounds were finally quiet. Jimin couldn’t sleep. His thoughts were too loud — looping, restless. The room felt too small with Jungkook’s presence and too hollow without him close.

He stepped out onto the porch, barefoot, arms folded against the cool air. And there he was. Already there, sitting on the wooden step with two mugs of tea steaming beside him.

“I figured you’d follow,” Jungkook said softly, not turning around.

Jimin smiled, surprised and not. “How’d you know?”

“You always do.” He handed him a mug without looking.

They sat in silence for a while. Crickets hummed. The tea was warm, floral, calming — something with lavender, probably. Their shoulders almost touched, and the space between them pulsed like a question left unanswered.

Jimin swatted at a mosquito near Jungkook’s neck and his fingers brushed warm skin. They both froze. His friend turned to look at him, and for a split second Jimin thought he was going to say something.

But he just murmured, “Thanks.”

He was lazily scrolling on his phone, his hair falling into his eyes. The light from the screen flickered across his face, catching the small crease in his brow — the one that appeared when he was thinking too hard or trying not to.

Then, without looking, he reached over and offered Jimin a headphone.
“Wanna listen?” His voice was low, almost casual, but something in the way he said it made his heart stutter.

Jimin hesitated — just for a second — then nodded. He took the earbud, their fingers brushing briefly in the dim light, and slid it in. Jungkook put the other in and set the phone down between them.

They sat side by side in the hush of the night, their arms just barely touching.
The music started. It was familiar, achingly so — the playlist they once made together on some hotel bed years ago, when everything felt simpler. 

Before any of this.

It started with a lo-fi instrumental they always used to fall asleep to. Then a soft, husky voice filtered in — a song Jimin hadn’t heard in forever. Acoustic guitar. 

The lyrics were simple, raw. Jimin swallowed hard.

He stared at the sky, eyes tracing the faint glow of the stars. He didn’t dare look at him. Not when his chest felt like it was trying to climb up his throat. Not when every word in the song felt like it was written from somewhere inside him.

But he didn’t have to look.

He felt him. Felt the stillness in his body. The way he hadn’t shifted in minutes, like he was scared to break the moment. Jimin could hear him breathing — soft, uneven. Not asleep.

The playlist continued. Another song began — one with piano, melancholic and spacious. There was something about the quiet that made everything louder.

Jungkook shifted, just slightly, and their arms touched again. This time, he didn’t move away. 

The next song faded in, low and longing. Jimin felt every word press against his chest like a confession no one was ready to say aloud.

He thought: Don’t say anything. Don’t ruin it.

So he stayed quiet, sitting beside the man he was no longer pretending with, listening to music they both forgot they needed. And when the song ended, neither of them reached for the phone. Their shoulders brushed. Neither pulled away.

Jungkook strummed a soft, familiar progression, and Jimin hummed the melody before he even realized he remembered it. One of their old songs — something unreleased, something written in the middle of a stormy tour night.

They started singing quietly, their voices already raspy from sleep, harmonies finding each other like they always used to. There was a tremble of nostalgia in it, but also peace.

Jungkook’s foot tapped against Jimin’s lightly in rhythm. Their knees knocked. Neither of them said anything, but both knew exactly what they were doing.

By the second chorus, Jimin was smiling — genuinely, uncontrollably. It wasn’t big or dramatic. It was just him. Open and warm.

And for a moment, it felt like the good old days. Before the blurred lines. Before the what-ifs and the maybes.

Just them. Their song. Their voices.

And the quiet knowledge that some things never really left. When the last note faded, Jungkook exhaled, like he had been holding his breath the whole time.

“That felt good,” he said.

“Yeah,” Jimin replied. “It really did.”

He didn’t say he needed it. That it stitched something in him back together.

He didn’t have to.

After brushing his teeth, Jimin padded barefoot back into the room, the floorboards cool under his feet. He was rubbing a towel through his damp hair when something caught his eye on the nightstand — a little notebook, small and scuffed from years of being tossed in backpacks and left in studio corners.

The cover was worn soft, a few peeling stickers clinging stubbornly to the surface. One of them — a cracked, faded whale — made him smile faintly. He remembered when Jungkook had bought it in Osaka, in a little souvenir shop near the harbor.

Curiosity nudged at him. He reached for it, fingers hesitating at the edge of the cover. It felt like a line he shouldn’t cross. But then he flipped it open anyway.

The first few pages were messy — scribbles, lyrics, stray thoughts in Jungkook’s uneven handwriting. A quick sketch of a mountain range. A list of songs. Half a grocery list. Then, tucked a few pages in, he found it.

A drawing — simple, but tender in its detail. A small figure curled up under a blanket, hair tousled, one bare foot sticking out. The face wasn’t defined, but Jimin somehow knew.

Beneath the sketch was a line of handwriting so light it was barely there:

“He always smells like rain.”

His breath caught.

He didn’t hear the bathroom door open until it was too late — he was already closing the notebook, guilt prickling like heat across his skin.

Jungkook stopped in the doorway, towel slung around his shoulders. His hair was clinging to his forehead, and his eyes flicked to the notebook in Jimin’s hands.

Jimin opened his mouth to apologize, but his friend just said softly, “It’s alright.”

His voice was low, unbothered. But something flickered behind his eyes — a shadow of vulnerability, quickly tucked away.

Jimin hesitated, then opened the notebook again and turned it back to the page.

“You drew this?” Jungkook nodded once, barely.

He ran a thumb lightly along the edge of the paper, afraid to look up. “It’s… me, isn’t it?”

There was a pause, then Jungkook shrugged. “I wrote that ages ago. Wasn’t supposed to mean anything.”

Jimin finally looked up. But it did. 

He didn’t say it out loud, but they both felt the space between them — the kind of truth you didn’t name because naming it would make it impossible to ignore.

He heard Yoongi’s voice in his head again. 

'You two have always been a little in love, you know.'

Jungkook crossed the room, not too close, but close enough for Jimin to hear the quiet catch of his breath. He didn’t take the notebook back. Didn’t look at it again. He just stood there, like he was waiting for Jimin to either break the silence or step into it.

But he couldn’t. So he gently closed the book, set it back on the nightstand, and said, quietly: “You should draw more… It’s really good.”

Jungkook didn’t answer. Just nodded, and turned off the light.

But Jimin lay awake long after, staring into the dark, still feeling the echo of those faint words: 

‘He always smells like rain.’

And for the first time in a while, he wondered if maybe someone had loved him all along — quietly, patiently, like that scent that lingered in the air after a storm.

That night, the cabin was unusually quiet.

No teasing. No shared laughter echoing off the walls. Just the soft rustle of blankets, the occasional creak of wooden beams, and the whisper of wind outside.

Jimin lay on the bed, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling as the moonlight spilled in silver streaks across the room. His thoughts spun in endless loops. The day played back in flashes — the quiet ache of separation, the jealousy, the reunion, the way Jungkook had held him like it had meant everything.

Had it always been like this? 

Had he always wanted him like this?

He remembered moments, so many moments — the sleepovers, the late-night talks, the casual touches that used to mean nothing but now felt like they had meant everything all along. 

How had he not seen it? 

Or maybe he had. Maybe he’d just been too afraid to name it.

He wondered if Jungkook had missed him too. If he had felt that same emptiness without him, the way Jimin’s chest had felt strangely hollow all day, like a part of him had wandered off and he was too proud to go chasing after it.

Across the room, Jungkook shifted on the couch. The blankets rustled. There was a long pause.

Then, in a low voice, barely louder than a breath, Jungkook said, “I didn’t like today.”

The words hung in the dark like a thread waiting to be pulled. 

Jimin didn’t answer.

Not because he didn’t want to — he ached to — but because his throat closed up around all the things he didn’t know how to say.

Because if he spoke, it might all come rushing out. And he wasn’t ready for that. 

The quiet stretched. Long enough that he thought maybe Jungkook had drifted off. But then he heard the slight shuffle again, the way he exhaled like he was still holding on to something too.

Jimin closed his eyes. He wanted to get up. Wanted to cross the floor and curl beside him like he used to. Wanted to ask what he meant. Why it had hurt so much to be apart.

But instead, he just listened.

Eventually, Jungkook’s breathing evened out — soft and steady.

Jimin rolled onto his side, facing the couch, his hand curled under his cheek, body tense and aching with unsaid things.

He didn’t sleep for a long time. He just lay there, skin prickling with wanting, with missing and knowing.

He listened to Jungkook’s breathing slow and deepened — the rhythm steady, soft, like waves pulling back from the shore. 

But Jimin lay there, unmoving, eyes open to the ceiling where shadows shifted like ghosts.

His heart was loud in his chest, thudding between the tight ache of wanting and the paralyzing weight of not knowing what to do with it. Caught between longing and fear. 

He thought of the drawing. Of the way Jungkook hadn’t tried to explain it away. He thought of the way his name had been written without being written.

The quiet kind of love that didn’t ask to be seen — only hoped for.

Sometime between night and dawn — that fragile in-between — Jungkook shifted in his sleep. His breath caught slightly. He mumbled something into the darkness, voice hazy and soft.

Jimin turned his head, barely breathing.

And then he heard it.

His name.

Murmured like a secret. 

His name, from Jungkook’s mouth, spoken without hesitation — not as pretend. Not for anyone else to hear.

Just him.

His chest tightened. Not because he was scared. But because, somehow, this might have been the most honest thing either of them had said all week.

And he couldn’t stop hearing it, over and over: His name, whispered in sleep.

Like he was what Jungkook dreamed of.

And when he finally drifted off, it was with one thought tangled stubbornly in his mind:

I love him. And I think he knows.

Chapter Text

The light spilled slowly through the trees that morning. There was a softness to the air, like even the world knew it was the beginning of an end. Breakfast was quieter than usual. People spoke in low voices, as if saving their energy for something that mattered.

Then, the retreat leaders called everyone to the main hall. They smiled like always, but there was a note of gravity in their tone that day. A kind of reverence.

“As we near the end of your time here, we invited you to participate in one final exercise before tomorrow’s closing ceremony.”

A murmur of curiosity.

“You’d each write a letter to your partner. About what this experience meant to you. About what you’d learned. You’d read them aloud to each other. Not as performance, but as symbolic expression. Be sincere but careful, words are powerful. Now, happy writing!”

As the staff finished, there was a beat of silence before the participants broke into scattered nods and subtle expressions. A few people smiled. Some already looked panicked. 

Jimin didn’t look at Jungkook right away. He couldn’t.

Later, he sat alone at a small table under a canvas canopy, the late-morning sun dappling through the leaves. The page in front of him was still blank, and his pen hovered like it was waiting for permission to touch paper.

Across the clearing, Jungkook was bent over his own notebook, brows drawn, hair a mess from the breeze. Jimin watched him — not meaning to, but helpless to stop.

He studied the curve of his shoulders, the slow way his lips moved as he chewed his bottom one in thought. The way his fingers tapped the table when he was stuck, the exact rhythm he always used when he was thinking hard. 

God, even that was familiar.

He tried not to be obvious. Tried not to feel it. But he did.

He felt everything.

The pen touched down.

I didn’t know how to begin, so I started with this: I’m scared.

The words came slow, but steady.

I’d always been scared of needing someone too much. Of letting them see too much. Of being left with the truth of it, and no way to go back.

His handwriting wavered slightly, but he kept going.

But you— you’d always made the world feel softer. Easier to hold. Every time you laughed, it was like I remembered how to breathe again.

He glanced back at Jungkook. The younger was leaning back now, pen pressed to his lips, staring off into the trees like he was dreaming with his eyes open.

And Jimin ached. It wasn’t a little thing. Not just a flutter. It was deep, like roots in his ribcage.

Even when we pretend you were always real to me. Even when I didn’t let myself say it. Especially then.

He exhaled shakily.

If I had a little more courage, I’d tell you all of it. But for now, I’ll just leave this here: I love the way you see the world and I wish someday I‘ll see it the same way.

From across the way, Jungkook glanced up — like he had felt something shift. His eyes met Jimin’s. Neither of them looked away. There was nothing fake about it anymore.

Around noon, everyone gathered again, this time on a wooden deck that overlooked the lake, floor cushions arranged in a wide circle. The energy felt different that day. Not solemn, but weighted. Like they could sense the end creeping in.

Some couples read their letters right away, openly emotional or playfully sincere. There were tears and laughs. It was quiet and intimate, with enough room for nerves and awkwardness.

Jimin’s hands were clammy against the envelope, his name written on it in Jungkook’s handwriting. Casual. Slightly rushed. He hated how even that looked familiar. He had caught himself staring earlier — at his profile in the sunlight, how he kept tapping his pencil as if being lost in thought. 

He had looked away quickly, overwhelmed by the rush of want that came with it.

They sat with that deliberate space between them now, but their knees angled ever so slightly in, like they had forgotten how to be completely apart. Their hyungs were across from them — Yoongi with his usual unreadable gaze, Namjoon calm but clearly observing. 

When it was their turn, Jimin cleared his throat, but his voice was barely above a whisper as he mumbled, “Just for the assignment.”

Jungkook’s gaze flickered. He nodded, playing the part. But Jimin saw the tightness in his jaw. The way his fingers curled a little too hard around the envelope.

Jimin opened his first. He read it silently, and with every passing line, something wilted in his chest. The tone was light, a little goofy. Classic him in public mode — charming, evasive. But Jimin knew him too well to miss the mask.

“Hyung,
You’re annoying, loud. Always in my space. Always leaving your socks where I trip on them. And I wouldn't change any of it. This retreat has been a weird ride, huh? Thanks for being my partner in crime. Let’s just agree we make a good team."

A little chuckle escaped him — not amused. Just enough to cover the way his throat tightened. He folded it back up with painstaking care and stared down at it like maybe the real letter was somewhere underneath.

He smiled after, like that was it. Like that was all it ever was.

There was a beat of silence. Not long, but not short either.

A few people exchanged glances. The retreat instructor looked politely confused. Even Namjoon frowned, like he was waiting for something more. 

Jimin didn’t breathe and Yoongi made a “Mm,” like he was filing it away under ‘bullshit, but okay.’

But no one pressed, and the moment passed.

When it was Junkook‘s turn, he read it in silence, his eyes scanning quickly at first… and then slowing. Something flickered in his expression. A frown. A twitch at the corner of his mouth, like he might have been holding back something. 

A smile or a sob, maybe. Regret.

Jimin’s expression was guarded, but his eyes were soft. Hurt. 

His friend opened his mouth like he was about to say something — but Yoongi beat him to it.

With all the grace of a cat tossing a glass off the counter, he leaned back on his hands, “Why the hell are you still confused?”

Jungkook choked slightly. Jimin sat bolt upright. “We’re not— It’s not like—”

But the protest rang hollow. Their hyungs didn’t buy it. Not even he did.

Yoongi just shrugged. “If you say so...”

The final night of the retreat arrived soft and slow, like a breath held too long and finally exhaled.

Golden lanterns swayed from the trees, casting a flickering light over the deck where long tables were dressed in linen and low vases of wildflowers. 

The scent of fresh herbs and warm bread lingered in the evening air, mixing with the sweetness of fruits and aged cheese. A gentle jazz trio played in the background.

Couples gathered under string lights, seated close on benches or leaning together against railings. There was laughter in the air, mellow and tinged with a kind of wistfulness.

Retreat hosts passed around a tray of glasses. The wine was deep red and earthy. There was a plate of soft cheeses, figs, and crusty bread passed hand to hand. Someone popped open a bottle of something bubbly and a cheer went up. 

Jimin lingered near the edge of the group at first, a glass of wine in hand, trying not to look like he was scanning the crowd. Jungkook was across the deck, animated in conversation with Yujin and he husband — all easy grins and nods, but his eyes flicked over to Jimin evep now and then. 

And he noticed every time.

Eventually, the group gathered in loose circles to share final anecdotes — “funniest moment,” “what you’ll miss most.“ 

Phone numbers and Instagram handles were exchanged. Polaroids were signed. A guy from another cabin slipped Namjoon a playlist of the jazz songs they’d bonded over. 

Jimin ended up beside Jungkook eventually, like gravity working inevitably. Their arms brushed. Neither of them pulled away.

A participant, half-tipsy from wine grinned at them and said, “Honestly, I still can’t tell if you two are actually dating or doing a very elaborate performance art piece. That letter, Jungkook — I mean, it sounded more like a confused cat stuck in a window.”

The group chuckled.

Jungkook's brows furrowed just slightly, not quite in offense — more like he was processing it. He let out a soft scoff and said, “All good relationships are based on friendship.”

Someone laughed and raised a glass. “Sure, but there’s friendship, and then there’s you two.”

Jungkook’s eyes shifted to Jimin. The noise around them faded just a little. His gaze was steady now, grounded.

And then —with an undertone of defiance — he said, “Do friends do this?”

He leaned in. The laughter faltered. And then he kissed him.

It was supposed to be a show. Yet it was steady and unhurried, his hand brushing lightly against the side of Jimin’s neck like he was afraid to startle him.

His breath caught — the air around them stretching out thin and taut like string. He didn’t pull back. He wanted to but he couldn’t.

There was no dramatic gasp or applause, just acknowledging quiet. Yoongi blinked over the rim of his glass. Namjoon exhaled like he saw this coming ten years ago.

Jungkook pulled back, lips still parted, eyes never leaving Jimin’s.

The firelight flickered. The music kept playing. And for a second, it was just them.

Jimin was frozen. The kiss still on his lips, warm and overwhelming. His heart was hammering like he’d just run through the woods barefoot. Every nerve ending buzzed, alert and confused. 

Jungkook’s gaze was still fixed on him — calm, certain, maybe a little scared.

And Jimin— he did what he’d always done.

He forced a shaky smile, ducking his head with a breathy laugh that sounded a touch too high.

“Well,” he said, voice casual, “looks like we’re winning the ‘most committed roleplay’  award then.” The group chuckled again, a few cheers picking back up, the spell half-broken.

Jungkook’s smile didn’t quite match the others. It was quiet. 

Jimin swallowed, blinking fast. The wine tasted too sweet now. His cheeks burned with too many things — embarrassment, adrenaline, something dangerously close to joy. Or regret?

He felt Jungkook’s hand drift away from his waist like it never belonged there in the first place.

And for the rest of the night, Jimin smiled when people looked, but inside, he was falling into the echo of that kiss over and over again.

He slipped away when the group was mid-laugh — just after another toast, just before someone could ask him about that kiss again. The wine, the jazz, the warmth of soft lights and friendly faces — it was suddenly all too much.

He walked down the winding path away from the main lodge, his footsteps crunching against the pine needles. The cool air bit at his flushed skin. He hadn’t realized how fast he was breathing until he heard another set of footsteps behind him.

“Jimin—”

He didn’t stop walking.

“Jimin,” Jungkook called again, closer this time, his voice low, urgent. “Why are you leaving?”

He finally turned. His eyes were wide, full of a thousand things he hadn’t let himself say. His voice came out thin, fraying at the edges.

“You weren’t supposed to mean it.”

Jungkook blinked, like the words knocked the wind out of him. “What?”

“That kiss,” Jimin said, barely above a whisper. “You weren’t supposed to mean it.”

The silence that followed was deafening. The trees seemed to hold their breath.

Jungkook’s face dropped, his expression slowly closing in on itself. His voice was rough when he spoke, a low rasp.

“Then stop making me feel like I do.”

Jimin looked like he’d been slapped. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

And then it happened — words they’d been avoiding for days came tumbling out, hot and clumsy.

Jungkook stepped closer. “You kept saying it was pretend, but you acted like it wasn’t. You look at me like you‘re scared of what you already know.”

“I’m not—” Jimin’s voice cracked. “I’m not scared of knowing, I’m scared of it being real. Because what happens if we try and it doesn’t work? What if we ruin everything?”

“And what if we don’t?” Jungkook shot back, fire catching in his eyes. “What if this — whatever this is — was the realest thing either of us had felt in a long time?”

Jimin took a shaky step back. “You don’t know that.”

“I do,” Jungkook said. “I knew it when you looked at me like you did earlier. I knew it when you touched me like it hurt not to. I knew it when—” he cut himself off, jaw flexing.

Jimin’s breathing was ragged. “You don’t get to just say things like that—”

“And you don’t get to kiss me with your whole heart and pretend it was just for show,” his friend muttered.

The words hung there between them, exposed and heavy.

And then Jungkook — chest heaving, face tight with frustration — turned and walked off, disappearing into the trees without another word.

Jimin stood in the silence he left behind, stunned. The silence wrapped around him like a second skin — tight and cold. He didn’t move for a long time. The echo of Jungkook’s footsteps faded into the forest, and still he stood there.

His chest ached. Not the way it used to when this was a game. This ache felt like something tearing. Like something he had let grow too quietly and now couldn’t contain.

He sank down onto the edge of the wooden trail, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. The night buzzed faintly with insects and distant music. None of it reached him.

Why did Jungkook say that? 

'Then stop making me feel like I do.'

It kept replaying. Over and over like a broken record. Like his brain wanted to tattoo it into his skull, so he’d never forget what it sounded like when someone handed you their heart without asking permission.

And he—he hadn’t even caught it. He let it drop.

Jimin exhaled sharply, wiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his sweatshirt, surprised to find them damp. He wasn’t crying, not really. It wasn’t even sadness exactly. It was everything else. The weight of things unsaid. The sharp clarity of his own cowardice.

He had known for days now. Weeks. Maybe longer. Every touch, every glance, every moment of quiet between them had been begging him to admit it. But he had been too scared of what would happen after.

And now here they were. On opposite ends of the same truth.

He thought about the letter he had written. Folded neatly, still tucked into Jungkook’s jacket pocket. He had meant every word — and said none of them out loud.

Jimin tipped his head back toward the stars and let out a breath that sounded too much like surrender.

“God, I’m such an idiot.”

Somewhere behind the trees, a screen door creaked. Someone’s laughter drifted through the dark. And for a brief moment, he let himself imagine walking back into the lodge, finding Jungkook still there, apologizing.

But he didn’t move.

The tears came quietly, almost imperceptible at first. Jimin’s breath hitched as he curled his hands into fists, fighting back the sobs that threatened to break him apart. His body trembled with the force of it, each exhale coming ragged and uneven. 

He pressed his palms to his eyes, wishing, desperately, that he could wipe away this whole mess. But he couldn’t.

His mind kept replaying the argument, over and over. Jungkook’s face — the hurt. The same hurt Jimin had been carrying, pretending it wasn’t there. Pretending he could just walk away from it.

Why did I do that?

He felt like a child — foolish and broken. His chest ached, raw and exposed. His emotions twisted in on themselves, a knot that wouldn’t loosen no matter how hard he pulled.

The sound of footsteps approaching reached him through his haze. Jimin didn’t bother to look up, too lost in the weight of his own regret. But then there was a voice — cutting through the fog in his mind.

“Jimin.”

He blinked, wiping his face with the back of his hand before slowly lifting his head. His friends were standing there, close enough now that he could see the concern in their eyes. Yoongi’s usual nonchalance was gone, replaced with something softer, that made him want to look away.

Namjoon crouched down next to him, steady and composed, but there was an edge to his voice when he spoke. “What happened, Chim?”

Jimin shook his head, still not trusting his voice enough to answer. He was ashamed of himself. Ashamed that he had let things get this far. Ashamed of the way he was falling apart when Jungkook was probably out there somewhere — angry and hurt, just like him.

He bit his lip, a tear slipping down his cheek. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel. I’m scared.”

Namjoon reached over, gently placing a hand on his shoulder, offering the silent comfort he always did. His voice was quieter, but the weight of it pressed on Jimin’s chest in a way that made him want to break open. 

“You’re scared of losing him. But you can’t keep running away from it. Especially not from yourself.”

Yoongi’s words came next, blunt, but with an undeniable tenderness behind them. “Either be brave or let him go. But stop lying. It’s not fair to both of you.”

Jimin’s heart shattered. He looked up at them and the tears fell freely now. It was all too much. The fear, the love he had tried to bury.

“I don’t want to lose him,” he admitted, his voice small now. 

Namjoon sighed deeply, leaning forward a little more. “You already know the answer to that.”

It was the silence that followed that made the weight of his emotions finally break free. He exhaled shakily, collapsing against Namjoon’s side.

“You’ve been doing this dance long enough that it’s impossible to ignore.” Yoongi’s voice was still steady, but the softness was there, just underneath the surface. “You can’t keep running from this forever or you both will end up miserable.”

Jimin closed his eyes, feeling the last of his defenses crumble. His heart was exposed now and trembling.

“But what if we mess it up?” Jimin whispered, his voice hoarse.

Yoongi glanced at Namjoon. “Then you’ll deal with it, right? But first, you have to give him the chance to tell you what he really feels. Stop assuming all the time. It gets you nowhere.”

Jimin’s hands trembled, but when he nodded, it felt like the weight had shifted. The storm inside him was still raging, but now there was clarity, too. He knew what he needed to do.

But the fear lingered. The fear of rejection. The fear of pushing Jungkook away even more by saying something wrong.

Namjoon gave him a quick, encouraging squeeze on the shoulder. “We’re here if you need anything.”

Jimin didn’t say anything. He stood, feeling the pressure in his chest loosen just a little. He wiped his face with the sleeve and breathed in the cold air. It felt different now. Less suffocating.

Namjoon grabbed Yoongi‘s arm. “Let’s give him some space, kitty.” With that, they moved away to rejoin the gathering, leaving him there in silence.

Jimin stepped onto the porch, phone in hand and his heart still buzzing. The stars were scattered across the sky like tiny reminders of how vast everything was, how small his world felt right then — reduced to one person, one fight, one kiss he couldn’t stop replaying.

He scrolled until he found the contact he always turned to in moments of uncertainty and pressed call.

Taehyung answered on the third ring, his voice low and scratchy. “Great, it just took half a day for one of you morons to call me again… You better be dying to call me at this hour.”

Jimin exhaled sharply. “I’m not dying.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“I’m just—” He let out a sigh, dragging a hand through his hair. “Everything’s a mess, Tae. I think I ruined it.”

His best friend groaned dramatically. “Oh my god. Again?”

Jimin frowned. “What do you mean, again?”

“I mean,” he said, already sounding exasperated, “you’d been calling me for weeks about Jungkook. Weeks, Jimin. And before that? Months of ‘he doesn’t see me like that’ and ‘it’s just pretend.’ And now it’s ‘I think I ruined it.’ You two are like some slow-burn drama with no payoff.”

“It’s not that simple,” Jimin muttered.

“Yes, it is.” His voice sharpened. “You‘re in love with him. He is obviously crazy about you. Everyone sees it. The only people acting like it‘s rocket science are you two dickheads.”

Jimin stayed silent for a beat, caught between being embarrassed and defensive. “He kissed me and I panicked.”

“Shocking…”

“I told him it was supposed to be fake and he walked off,” Jimin added, voice softer now. “I think I really hurt him.”

His friend sighed again, but that time it was gentler. “Duh! But do you want to keep hurting him by pretending this thing between you two isn’t real?”

Jimin didn’t answer.

“You want my advice?” Tae asked, not waiting for confirmation. “Get the fuck over yourself, Juliet. Talk to him. Tell him Romeo the truth. Because if you don’t, one day you’ll look back and realize you lost him because you were too fucking scared to be honest.”

Jimin’s throat tightened. “You really think he—”

“Jimin,” he cut in, exasperated but affectionate. “He kissed you, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then maybe stop whining at me and go deal with the one you actually wanna talk to.”

There was a pause.

“…Okay.”

“You two owe me a barrel of wine and snacks for the emotional labor you’ve put me through. And stop calling me until you guys figure your shit out.”

Jimin actually laughed, a broken sound, but it was real. “Deal.”

Jimin moved with new resolve, steps brisk across the retreat grounds, heart knocking against his ribs like a fist on a door that needed to be opened now. Taehyung’s words still rang in his ears — sharp, unwavering, and maddeningly right.

He was ready. For once, finally ready. To be honest. To stop running. To tell Jungkook everything — all the things he’d been too afraid to say out loud.

But when he reached the main hall where everyone was mingling, the firepit was empty. The wine glasses were half-abandoned. Jungkook wasn’t there.

His stomach twisted.

He checked the porch.

The trails. 

Looped past the garden, then doubled back. 

Nothing. 

Not a trace of that oversized hoodie or the way Jungkook chewed on his lip when he was overthinking again. Jimin even checked the lake path — the one they had walked on during the early days of the retreat. Just in case.

Still nothing.

He asked people in passing if they’d seen him, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. They all shook their heads.

And so he went back to the cabin.

The moment he stepped inside, it was dim and quiet. Too quiet. The bed was still made. The air felt untouched. A ghost of them lingered in the space — the laughs, the brushes of skin, the quiet nights filled with tension.

Jimin sat on the edge of his bed. Waiting.

He didn’t turn the lights on. Just sat in the hush, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. The adrenaline faded, leaving behind a strange hollowness in its place. What if he was too late? What if Jungkook had left for real this time?

He wouldn’t believe that.

So he stayed and waited.

And waited.

Every creak of the floorboards outside made his heart leap. Every gust of wind felt like it could be the door opening. He had made his decision. He was just hoping he still had the chance to say it in time.

He stared at his phone, thumb hovering for a second too long before he finally typed:

'Where are you?'

The message sent with a quiet whoosh, the screen glowing faintly in the dark.

He waited. Watching the read receipt like it might twitch.

Nothing.

He typed again.

'I need to talk to you. Please.'

Still nothing.

His heart sank deeper with each passing second. There was a surreal stillness around him — like even the night was holding its breath. The kind of silence that felt personal.

He scrolled through their messages. Old photos. Dumb gifs. The way Jungkook used to send voice notes instead of typing, his voice soft and close in Jimin‘s ears even then.

It hadn’t been supposed to get like that.

He tossed the phone onto the bed, but it bounced and landed facedown on the floor. He didn’t pick it up.

Instead, he sat there. Breathing through the burn behind his eyes.

Because now that he was finally ready to talk Jungkook wasn’t answering.

And that was what terrified him most.

Chapter Text

The night stretched on, a slow drag of time that refused to let Jimin settle. The cabin felt too small, too quiet. Jimin tossed and turned in his bed, his phone lying untouched on the nightstand, his fingers itching to text Jungkook once more. To reach out, to make sure he was okay, to know where he was, why he was gone. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. What was the point? 

Stop thinking about it. He’ll be back, he told himself.

But every time he closed his eyes, every time he pulled the blanket tighter around him, the thought crept back in. Why hadn’t Jungkook responded to his texts? Why had he walked away from him like that, leaving Jimin to stand there in front of everyone, his heart racing, his chest tight? He

He could still feel the pressure of his words — 'Then stop making me feel like I do.'

It was like a knife twisting deeper the more he thought about it.

Jimin couldn’t sleep. It was impossible. The thoughts chased each other around in his mind like wild animals, clawing at him, keeping him awake, keeping him restless. The feeling of emptiness in the pit of his stomach grew heavier the longer he lay there in the dark. The weight of it was suffocating.

He stared at the ceiling, trying to distract himself by counting the little imperfections in the wood, but it didn’t help. His mind kept going back to Jungkook. To that kiss. To the way his lips had felt, soft yet insistent, like there was something more than just the game they’d been playing. 

But now? Now he couldn’t shake it. The kiss had been real. It had made it real. And that was what terrified him. The possibility that Jungkook might actually feel the same way.

A sound at the door — a slight shift of the knob — made his heart leap. But when he looked over, it was only the wind, pushing the door slightly open. The cabin creaked with the breeze, the sound unsettling and lonely.

He sat up, wiping a hand across his face, but the dampness of his skin remained. His thoughts were tangled, his chest tight with anxiety. Why hadn’t Jungkook come back yet? 

He glanced at the clock on the nightstand, watching the minutes slip by, each one like a hammer hitting his chest.

Jimin tossed the covers off and slid out of bed. The cold air in the cabin sent a chill down his spine as he walked to the door, glancing out into the dark night. He wanted to call out to him. He wanted to run after him and pull him back, to fix things, to make sure they were okay. 

The thoughts cut through him like a blade. What if he’d been pretending for too long? What if this thing between them had never been meant to be anything more? What if the only reason they’d been so close was because it was safe, easy to mask as something casual?

He could feel himself spiraling again, the overwhelming wave of doubt pulling him under.

Maybe tomorrow, things will be different. Maybe tomorrow, Jungkook will be ready to talk. Maybe tomorrow, everything will make sense.

Around 2 am in the morning, the silence of the resort felt suffocating, heavy with uncertainty. Jimin couldn’t stay in the cabin any longer. Anxiety had taken root, growing deeper with every second that Jungkook didn’t return. His heart pounded in his chest, a rapid beat that echoed in his ears. 

What if I messed everything up already?

He tried to shake off the thought, but it clung to him, tightening with every passing moment.

Jimin pulled on his jacket, grabbed his phone, and headed out into the night. The cool air bit at his skin as he walked through the empty resort, calling Jungkook’s name under his breath. 

Where are you?

He checked the main areas again. No sign of him. His phone was still quiet. No texts. No missed calls. The dread settled into his bones, cold and unrelenting.

Jimin checked the cabin again. He had missed nothing. He called out Jungkook’s name again, his voice breaking on the last syllable. Nothing. It was just the wind, stirring the trees in the distance. Everything felt far away, even the sounds of the world.

He’s avoiding me. 

He’s mad at me.

The thought made his stomach drop, but he couldn’t stop himself from imagining it. What if the kiss had been too much? What if Jungkook had taken it all wrong? What if everything had been for nothing? 

What if he had felt trapped, like Jimin had forced him into something he wasn’t ready for? After all, the retreat had been his idea.

I didn’t mean to hurt him, Jimin told himself, but the words felt hollow.

Frantic, he pulled his phone from his pocket again, dialing Tae’s number. His thumb shook as he pressed the call button. The ring echoed in his ears. One, two, three… the line clicked.

“What now?” Tae’s voice was groggy, laced with sleep but tinged with concern.

“Tae,” he said, his voice tight. “Have you heard from Jungkook? He’s— he’s gone. He’s not answering my texts.”

Tae paused for a moment, then sighed, the sound coming through the phone like a release of built-up frustration.

“I haven’t heard from him either. Sorry. He’s probably just... processing everything. You know how he is.”

“I’ve been looking for him for hours, Tae. It’s not just him processing,” Jimin said, his voice cracking with frustration. His chest tightened again. “I think something’s wrong. What if he’s mad at me? It’s so dark out there. He—he might be scared.”

The line was silent for a moment, and when Tae spoke again, his voice had dropped in pitch.

“Listen to me, Jimin, just find him. Talk to him. And stop wasting time worrying about all this ‘what if’ shit. Don’t make it harder than it already is. You both know what’s been building.”

The words hit him like a brick, knocking the wind out of him. Jimin closed his eyes, breathing out slowly, trying to steady himself.

“Thanks,” he murmured quietly before hanging up.

His phone slipped from his hand for a moment. He couldn’t think. He had to find him. Had to know if he was okay. What if he’d been overthinking everything? What if it had just been a moment of vulnerability, something he shouldn’t have attached so much meaning to? 

Jimin pushed forward, the cold night air biting at his skin as he made his way to the lake. It was where they always went, where things between them had shifted. Where they’d shared some of the most honest moments. Maybe Jungkook was there, hidden away in the quiet, unsure of how to face him.

His steps were faster now, heart pounding with each stride, every minute that passed adding to his unease. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing him, not when he’d only just begun to realize how much he meant to him.

When he reached the edge of the lake, he stopped. The water was still, reflecting the stars above, an image of peace that didn’t align with the chaos in his chest. There was no sign of Jungkook. No footsteps by the shore. The familiar warmth of his presence was absent, and his stomach turned with the emptiness. 

The sound of rustling behind him made him spin around. His heart stopped for a second. It was just a rabbit. He huffed silently. 

His heart sank deeper with every empty room, every silent space. The longer he searched, the more desperate he became. His breath quickened, his chest tight, the cold air of the night doing little to calm the storm inside him.

Where are you, Kookie?

Jimin turned back, almost defeated, ready to retreat to his cabin when he spotted Yoongi and Namjoon coming around the corner. What had they been up to until now?

Yoongi’s eyes immediately caught his, narrowing when he saw the frantic look on him. Without a word, Jimin looked at them, his face a mask of panic. He didn’t have to say anything — they knew something was wrong.

“What happened?” Namjoon’s voice was gentle, though his worry was evident.

“I can’t find him,” Jimin said, his voice cracking. “Jungkook—he’s gone. I’ve been looking for him all night, and he won’t answer his phone. I don’t know where he is, and I’m—” His breath hitched. “I’m scared.”

Yoongi glanced at Namjoon, then back to Jimin, his expression tense. “We need to get the staff involved. Now.” His voice was firm, commanding, and Jimin felt a small flicker of reassurance, knowing that he wasn’t just going to let this go.

Namjoon pulled out his phone, already dialing the resort manager. “We’ll organize a search team. Don’t worry, Chim. We’ll find him.”

They quickly gathered, forming small search teams. Even some guests joined in. They split up, equipped with flashlights, their voices muffled in the night as they scattered into the surrounding forest, calling out for Jungkook.

Jimin’s legs moved on their own as he followed the searchers, his steps too fast to keep up. He was shaking now, his body a storm of nerves. What if he’s hurt? The thought clawed at him, making him push harder through the darkened forest. The cold air stung his skin, but he barely noticed.

“Jimin!” Namjoon’s voice called out behind him, pulling him from his thoughts. 

“Wait up!”

He slowed, turning to face them. Yoongi’s face was drawn with concern, but there was a calm determination in his eyes. Namjoon’s brow was furrowed, his usual optimism tempered with a rare seriousness.

“He’s out there,” he said, his voice steady but with an underlying edge of urgency. “We’ll find him. Just stay with us.”

Jimin’s chest tightened again, but he nodded, trying to breathe deeply. He had been overthinking, spiraling through every possible worst-case scenario. The truth was, he didn’t know what he would do if they didn’t find Jungkook. 

He didn’t know how to fix things between them, but he needed to try. Needed to see him, talk to him, apologize. He just needed to know that Jungkook was okay.

The group continued into the forest, the searchlights cutting through the dark. The minutes stretched long, and Jimin’s heart raced faster. 

Come on, Kookie. Please be okay.

Then one of the search teams announced that a boat was missing. Jimin‘s stomach dropped. His heart seized, and for a moment, everything went silent except for the rapid, panicked beat of his own pulse. “It’s a small rowboat, one of the ones we use for the lake activities. We haven’t seen it come back.”

The world tilted on its axis. The image of Jungkook disappearing into the water — alone, lost and without anyone there to help — flooded his mind. 

No. No, no, no.

The fear was suffocating. His thoughts spun in a whirlwind of what ifs. What if he had gone out on the boat alone? What if he had gotten caught in the current? What if he had fallen in and couldn't get out? What if he was...

“Jimin,” Yoongi’s voice broke through the storm, sharp but gentle, “calm down. We don’t know anything yet.”

He shook his head, his breath coming in shallow gasps. “But what if—what if…What if something… and I— It‘s all my fault!”

“Jimin.” Namjoon stepped forward, his hand gripping his shoulder, grounding him with the simple pressure. “There’s no need to jump to conclusions.”

But Jimin couldn’t stop himself. His heart was pounding so fast now that it felt like his chest might burst open. His vision blurred with tears, and he could barely breathe through the tight knot in his throat. He took a step forward, looking at the empty lake and back to the staff, his mind racing. “We need to look for him. Now.”

Namjoon pulled him into a brief but firm hug, his hand rubbing circles on Jimin’s back. “We’ll look for him. The staff are doing their job, and so are we. We’re not going to just stand here and wait, okay? But you can’t fall apart on us right now.”

Jimin pulled away, his eyes wide with fear, but there was something in his hyung’s gaze — something steady, something unwavering — that finally cracked through the panic.

“Breathe, Jiminie. Please,” he said quietly. “We’re going to find him. Just take a second to breathe.”

He took in a shaky breath, his hands trembling, trying to steady himself. It felt impossible to breathe at all, but Namjoon’s hands on his arms helped ground him, helped pull him out of the chaos in his head.

Every fiber of his being wanted to run, to search every inch of the lake for any sign. He was trying to clear away the tears that blurred his vision. “I just... I can’t lose him. I can’t.”

“We’re not losing him,” Yoongi said quietly, his voice soft. “But you need to hold it together now.”

Jimin let out a breath, but it felt too shallow to be enough. His chest still tightened with each passing second, each unanswered question about where his friend could be.

And so, the search continued, but the anxiety wouldn’t leave him. Every minute felt like an eternit. But then it hit him. He suddenly straightened, eyes widening as his breath caught. “Wait,” he whispered, almost to himself. Then louder, urgent: “I think I know where he is.”

Namjoon looked up from the map the staff had brought out. “What? Where?”

But Jimin was already stepping back, eyes darting toward the tree line. “The bench,” he said. “The night we got lost.”

He didn’t wait for a reaction. Didn’t wait for anyone to follow. He just turned and ran — legs burning, lungs tightening, heart slamming so hard against his ribs it hurt.

He heard someone shout after him — but their voices were distant now, muffled by the sound of his pounding footsteps and the adrenaline screaming through his blood.

Branches slapped at his arms. His shoes caught on roots and rocks, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.

Please be there. Please be there!

The thought looped in his head like a prayer.

It was dark now, but he knew the way. His body remembered it even if his mind was a mess. He could almost see Jungkook’s silhouette ahead, sitting curled on that bench like he had before, like nothing had ever changed.

He rounded the final bend, breath hitching—And there he was.

Curled in his hoodie, head bowed, hands tucked into his sleeves like he was trying to disappear into himself.

Jungkook.

Jimin stumbled to a halt, his chest heaving with exhaustion and emotion, his throat too tight to speak just yet.

The bench was half-hidden under a canopy of trees, shrouded in shadow, almost forgotten by the rest of the world — just like that night they had gotten lost, way back when things had felt simpler. When pretending had still been easy.

Jimin stumbled toward it on instinct more than logic. Relief surged through him like lightning, dizzying and sharp. His steps slowed, suddenly unsure, suddenly aware of everything he wanted to say and afraid none of it would be enough.

The leaves crunched softly beneath his shoes as he approached, and Jungkook turned — startled at first, then just tired. His eyes caught the moonlight, and Jimin couldn’t tell if they were red from fatigue or something deeper. He looked... wrecked. Not physically, not in the way a long day showed, but the quiet, fraying kind of wrecked that Jimin recognized too well.

He swallowed hard. “You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured, the words slipping out before he could talk himself out of it.

Jungkook didn’t speak. He just looked at him. And it wasn’t guarded this time. There was nothing left of the mask between them. Just a hundred things unsaid.

Jimin stood there, chest rising and falling, heart still racing, trying to catch his breath—not just from the sprint, but from the sight of Jungkook right in front of him. Safe.

He swallowed hard. “You scared the hell out of me.”

His friend didn’t answer right away. His hands twisted in the sleeves of his hoodie, knuckles pale. Then he finally said, quiet and rough and barely noticeable:

“This is the place where I realized I‘m in love with you.”

The words landed like thunder in Jimin’s chest. He stared, stunned, unsure he had heard right. But Jungkook didn’t take it back. Didn’t laugh. Didn’t soften it with a joke.

He just continued, voice low:

“That night… when we got lost. You kept joking to keep me calm even though I knew you were freezing and scared. You fell asleep on my shoulder and I remember thinking, ‘I could stay here forever if it meant I’d always have this.’” He gave a small, broken smile. “I didn’t realize it then. But now I do.”

Jimin’s eyes burned. His fingers curled at his sides. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Jungkook laughed, bitter and small. “Because this was supposed to be fake, right? Because I didn’t want to lose you.”

Jimin didn’t answer right away. He just walked the last few steps forward and sank down beside Jungkook on the bench, shoulders brushing. Silence stretched between them again.

“You are never going to lose me.” His hand carefully reached for Jungkook’s.

Eventually, his friend spoke, voice hoarse, barely audible. “I wasn’t sure what I was doing anymore,” he said. “This — us, these feelings — it’s like you pulled me underwater and now I can’t find my way back to the surface… I‘m drowning—” His voice finally broke.

Jimin’s throat tightened. His shoulders rose and fell with a shaky breath. 

His friend continued, “I thought we could fake it. That we’d laugh and make it a joke, like we always do. But then you’d smile at me like that and I’d feel like I was dying a slow death. Every day, I’d unconsciously wait for you to touch me, and I’d try to act like it didn’t mean the world to me.”

He glanced at Jimin again, and this time there was fire behind his exhaustion. “But I couldn’t stop thinking about you. About us. About what it would be like if none of this was pretend.”

Jimin’s chest ached. Not with panic, not even fear anymore. It was the soft, aching warmth of everything he had been trying to ignore since the night he leaned his head on Jungkook's shoulder like it had meant nothing and everything at the same time.

“I know,” Jimin whispered. “I’ve been scared out of my mind. I thought if I kept pretending it would go away. That I wouldn’t need you this much.”

Jungkook’s mouth twitched into something unreadable — not quite a smile, not quite pain. “You always needed me,” he said. “You just didn’t want to.”

Jimin leaned his head gently against his shoulder. “Maybe we stop pretending now,” he said softly.

His friend breathed out, slow and shaky, and leaned into him. “Maybe we should.”

Jimin pulled him into a hug—tight, grounding, desperate in a quiet way. Their arms wrapped around each other like they had done a hundred times, but it had never felt quite like this. Like breathing after nearly drowning.

Jungkook’s chin rested on his shoulder, and Jimin closed his eyes, soaking in the feel of him—warm and alive and finally there.

They pulled back just slightly, foreheads brushing. Jimin’s hand stayed curled in the fabric of his sleeve, reluctant to let go. Their eyes met. It was soft, charged. Jungkook leaned in just a little—

Then flashlights flooded the trees.

“THERE!”

The beams cut through the night, voices echoing, crashing through the fragile stillness like waves. They both flinched at the sudden light, blinking into the brightness as footsteps approached fast.

Namjoon’s voice was the first to reach them: “Are you kidding me?!”

Yoongi was right behind, looking like he was ready to kill. “Jungkook—” He rushed forward, jaw tight, and for one terrifying second Jimin thought he really might slap him.

But instead, he grabbed him by the hoodie, pulled him in and held him tight. Just for a breath, before letting go.

“Don’t ever do that again, you little shit!” he muttered, voice tight with relief.

“Sorry.”

Namjoon sighed and ran a hand down his face, turning away like he needed a second to cool off. 

Jimin still hadn’t let go of Jungkook’s hand. And through all the chaos, his eyes were still on him—like none of the noise mattered. 

They barely made it back to the cabin before the weight of everything caught up with them.

The door shut with a soft click behind them, and for a moment they just stood there, wordless. The adrenaline faded, leaving only exhaustion in its wake. Their limbs felt heavy, eyes burning from lack of sleep and too many emotions left unsaid.

Jimin moved first—kicking off his shoes and peeling off his hoodie in slow, dragging movements. Jungkook followed, quieter now, his gaze still flickering over him every few seconds like he was afraid he might disappear again.

They both gravitated toward the bed like magnets. Neither said a word as they collapsed onto the mattress, shifting instinctively into each other’s space as they had done a thousand times, but never like this. 

Jimin’s head ended up tucked beneath Jungkook’s chin, their legs tangled, a hand resting lightly on his chest where he could feel the steady thump of his heartbeat. Jungkook’s fingers curled into the fabric of Jimin’s shirt at his waist, holding him there.

It wasn’t planned, just them, worn out, curled into each other like shelter. Within minutes, their breathing evened out—synchronized in the hush of the late night. Their bodies relaxed, finally safe. 

And as sleep came, there was no doubt that they had found their way back to each other. Even if the words still hadn’t come. They still had to talk it out. 

But not tonight.

Chapter Text

The morning sun was low, casting long lines across the porch as they sat in the quiet. And for the first time in what felt like forever, the silence between them was soft.

Two mugs sat between them—half-full, lukewarm. Breakfast mostly untouched.
Jungkook was the one who spoke first, voice rough from sleep, eyes on the horizon.

“I don’t wanna pretend anymore.”

Jimin turned to look at him slowly, like he was making sure it was real. “Me neither.”

The words hung there for a beat.

Then Jungkook exhaled, like he had been holding it in for months. Maybe years.

“I think I’ve been in love with you since before this whole thing even started,” he said, barely above a whisper. “I just didn’t… I couldn’t say it. Because saying it meant everything would change. And I didn’t know if I could handle that.”

His breath stuttered. He looked down at his hands, then over at Jimin, eyes wide. “You too?”

He nodded, unravelling something tight in them.
“I was so sure,” Jungkook continued, “—that if I said anything, I’d lose you. That you’d look at me different. That it’d ruin everything we have.”

Jimin let out a short, shaky laugh. “Funny I thought the same thing.”

Their eyes met, and this time it wasn’t tense, just honest. Stripped bare with everything finally out in the open.

“I’m scared,” his friend confessed quietly. “Of what happens next. After the retreat. After this bubble pops.”

Jimin bit his lip. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the wooden slats beneath their feet. “I was scared too,” he said. “Terrified, actually. Of breaking something that means everything to me.”

There was a pause. The wind rustled the trees gently, like the world was listening in.
“But,” he added, softer now, “I think not trying might have been worse. I think pretending nothing is there when it clearly is… that’s what would ruined us.”

Jungkook nodded slowly, and then, without hesitation this time, reached over and took his hand. “Then let’s stop that charade,” he said.

Jimin’s smile was small but real. He squeezed his hand. “Sounds good.” 

They sat in that warm hush, birds chirped somewhere in the distance, and the lake glittered under the soft morning light. But neither of them was looking at it. They were somewhere else entirely.

Jimin leaned in slowly, rested his head against Jungkook’s shoulder, their hands still entwined. The simple contact made him breathe in deeper, like it anchored him.

The tension from the night before still lingered in the air — but it had changed. No longer tight with fear or confusion. It hummed like a wire pulled taut with longing.

“Can I kiss you?” Jimin‘s voice was barely a whisper. Too afraid to speak any louder.

“Please! I‘m starving!”

And this time, when Jimin lifted his head and turned toward him, there was no hesitation. Their lips met, almost tentative. Then again, deeper, filled with all the things they had held back for so long. 

And when they finally pulled away, breath shaky between them, he stayed close, his forehead touching the other.

“I think…” he started, voice low. “I think I’ve loved you longer than I ever let myself acknowledge.”

It didn’t feel like a confession so much as a truth finally let loose. Jungkook’s smile was soft. He closed his eyes for just a second, as if memorizing the moment. Then he leaned in, his lips brushing Jimin’s again — and again.

And this time, he spoke the words against his mouth, voice low. “I love you.”
It was like a prayer. And it felt like home like no place ever did.

Finally.

Then Jungkook lifted his head, nose gently brushing his ear as he whispered, “I have an idea.”

“Oh no—”

“Do you trust me?”

“Hell no.”

“Good.“

He jumped up and excitedly pulled him along, leading the way down the gravel path, sneakers crunching in the quiet. The boathouse loomed at the edge of the lake, half-shrouded in mist and completely off-limits.

"Remind me why this is a good idea again?" Jimin whispered, glancing back toward the cabins.

"Because," Jungkook whispered back, "we’ll remember this day."

They reached the creaky wooden dock. He paused, scanning the row of canoes and small rowboats neatly tied up. He spotted a faded green one that looked like it hadn’t moved in years and pointed. "That one."

"You realize we are fully stealing a boat."

"Borrowing," Jungkook corrected. He jumped down, quickly untying the rope. “Besides, it’s our last day. What are they supposed to do? Kick us out?”

Once they were both seated, paddling out onto the glassy surface. Only the sound of oars dipping into the water, and a few distant bird calls, filled the space. The lake was silver in the morning light, calm and stretching wide.

Jimin leaned back, letting his hand trail in the water. “This feels illegal in the most romantic way.”

“It is,” Jungkook winked. “That’s what makes it perfect.”

They drifted in silence, letting the boat rock gently. Jimin looked over at him, eyes soft. “You really wanted this, huh? One last adventure before we go back to everything?”

His friend nodded. “I don’t want this to end and just be a thing that happened at a retreat.”

“It’s not,” Jimin said. He reached over and laced their fingers together. “You know that, right?”

Jungkook’s nodded again. “Yeah. I just… wanted this moment. Just us. No staff, no rules, no expectations. Just you and me. Out here. Starting something real.”

The boat glided gently ahead the small island up ahead cloaked in early morning gold. Jimin was watching a ripple cut through the water when he heard it—soft, hesitant at first.

Jungkook cleared his throat.

“🎶 When you smile it’s like a sunrise in my SOUL… 🎶”

Jimin’s head whipped around, eyes wide.

“Jungkook…”

But he wasn’t fazed. His face was turned toward the water like he was performing for the forest. With dramatic flair, he clutched his imaginary mic closer.

“🎶 And when you breathe you give my lonely heart a goOoOoal 🎶”

“Oh god.” Jimin slapped a hand over his mouth, half to muffle his laughter, half to hide the way his cheeks were turning crimson.

“Shhh,” Jungkook waved him off solemnly, as though Jimin had interrupted a Grammy-worthy performance. “It’s gonna be my new hit single. I’ll call it ‘Sitting next to you’.”

“How original.”

“Shush! There’s a second verse.”

“Please, no—”

“🎶 I’d swim the sea of heartbreak just to float inside your gaze. 🎶”

Jimin groaned into his hands, legs curling up to his chest like he could hide from this cheesiness. 

Jungkook grinned but kept singing, his voice unnecessarily breathy now, as if he was in a wind machine.

“🎶 And if love was illegal—I’d still do time for your face… Sitting next to you. 🎶”

Jimin barked out a laugh, nearly tipping the boat. 

His opposite finally looked at him, bunny eyes bright. “I’m workshopping it. Maybe it’s more of a spoken word ballad.”

“You’re absolutely insane.” Jimin shook his head, but the corners of his mouth betrayed him. “You drag me out here to commit a misdemeanor and then serenade me with what sounds like a rejected EXO demo?”

“You love it,” Jungkook said, lowering his voice like a sultry radio DJ. “You’re swooning.”

“I am dying,” Jimin corrected. “There’s a difference.”

But when his friend leaned forward just slightly, still humming the tune, Jimin softened. The ridiculousness melted into something sweeter. He reached out and gently cupped Jungkook’s jaw.

“I’m serious, though,” he said, thumb brushing against the skin just below his ear. “You’re the weirdest person I’ve ever loved.”

The grin quieted, eyes searching Jimin’s. “I’m glad I get to be,” he whispered.

The island was just a few strokes away now, mist curling at its edges like the veil of a dream. Jimin was distracted, watching a heron glide low across the water, when the boat shifted suddenly beneath him.

Jungkook was standing up, balancing precariously, and pulled Jimin to his feet in one swift motion.

“Sir?!” he said, clutching at his shoulders. “What are you—this is not the time—”

“Welcome,” Jungkook announced in a lousy posh accent, “to the final dance of our lakeside gala.” He bowed dramatically, nearly tipping them both. “Shall we waltz, Milord?”

“Oh god, we’re going to die,” Jimin gasped, digging his fingers into Jungkook’s hoodie. 

“🎶I just wanna slow dance, baby you can take my hand 🎶”

Jungkook was already swaying, one hand on his lower back, holding an invisible rose between his teeth.

The boat rocked.

“Okay, wait, wait, we’re actually gonna—”

“Trust the rhythm, Jimin!”

“We’re in a boat, Kookie!” His feet stumbled over the narrow base of the canoe as they turned. “We’re gonna capsite— Ah, fuck it.”

He finally leaned into the dance. If they were going down they’d do it in style.

“🎶Like cheek to cheek, I feel your heartbeat on mine—🎶”

Jungkook twirled him around, a bright laugh lighting up his face—And then everything tipped.

Jimin saw it before he did—the slow, inevitable lean of the world sideways.

The boat gave a mournful creak, tilted fully left, and in one spectacular splash the water swallowed them like a punchline. Cold, shocking and loud.

Jimin came up first, sputtering. “I told you! I warned you, you lunatic!”

Jungkook surfaced with a roar of laughter, hair plastered to his face, flailing for breath between chuckles. “Did you see your face? You looked like we were going down with the Titanic— I never let go, Jack!”

“Because we were, Rose!” Jimin splashed a wave of water at him, half laughing despite himself. “This was supposed to be a romantic memory, not a comedy skit gone wrong.”

“I disagree,” Jungkook said through another cackle. “This is iconic. Future us will be so grateful.”

They drifted together, clinging to the overturned canoe and each other, giggling like idiots in love.

Jimin pressed his forehead to Jungkook’s shoulder. “You’re the worst romantic lead I’ve ever seen.”

“And yet you’re still here,” he replied softly.

Jimin tilted his head up, water trailing from his jaw. “Yeah,” he whispered, eyes crinkling. “Looks like it.”

His friend pulled him in without warning, kissing him, messy and wet.

The canoe floated beside them like a failed prop, and the island waited just a few paddles away. But for now, they just held each other—drenched and completely gone for one another.

Jimin leaned in just too much and they toppled over with a splash. The water was cold, but not enough to matter. Not when they were breathless from laughter, tangled in the aftermath of their doomed canoe-waltz.

Jimin’s hand drifted to Jungkook‘s chest, fingers dragging slowly down his soaked hoodie. “You're actually ridiculous,” he murmured.

“Mm,” the other hummed, sliding his own hand under Jimin’s shirt, palm warm even through the chill of the lake. “You didn’t seem to mind when we were waltzing.”

“I minded,” he replied, his grin returning. “I just liked it anyway.”

Their mouths met again, deeper now. The laughter didn’t fade—it just folded into the heat. Their kisses were broken by small gasps between smiles, lips brushing with the kind of reverence that only comes from realizing that this is really happening.

Jungkook’s hands explored like he was memorizing—tracing the slope of Jimin’s back, the curve of his waist beneath the wet fabric. And he leaned into it, fingers slipping under Jungkook’s shirt, cool skin against his palms.

They rolled gently in the water, half submerged, weightless and tangled, bodies pressing against each other.

“This is so not what they meant by ‘reflection time,’” Jimin whispered against his jaw.

“I’m reflecting,” Jungkook said, voice low. “On how damn good you look in a lake.”

Jimin snorted and kissed him again just to shut him up.

For a moment, it felt like the rest of the world had melted away, just cold water, warm hands, and the fire building slowly between them, undeniable now.

And still, they laughed into each kiss. Because love, apparently, looked a lot like two idiots in a lake, completely smitten.

The lake moved around them, quiet except for their breathing—interspersed with soft sighs and the occasional shifting limb. There was urgency beneath the surface, fingers tugged at soaked clothing, lips brushed along necks, teeth grazed heated skin.

Jungkook’s hands wandered—first to Jimin’s waist, then up beneath his shirt, tracing the lines of his ribs with reverence. And he arched into the touch, soft gasps escaping his throat as his legs tangled more firmly around Jungkook’s.

Then—a hand slid lower, fingers drifting between his thighs.

The spell broke in an instant. Jimin froze. His breath caught.

“Wait—” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

Jungkook immediately stilled, hands lifting in instinctive surrender, eyes searching his. “Too fast?”

He nodded slowly, one hand gently pressing to Jungkook’s chest. “Yeah. I—I want this. You. Just… not yet. Not like this.”

His cheeks flushed—not from embarrassment, but from the intensity. Of being so close. Of wanting and holding back at the same time.

“I’m still catching up to all this,” Jimin said softly, eyes flicking up to meet Jungkook’s. “I’ve never felt anything like it before, and it’s amazing… but I need to breathe.”

Jungkook’s expression softened instantly. Not a flicker of frustration, not a trace of disappointment. Just a gentle nod, and that stupidly tender smile he had already come to crave.

“Okay,” he murmured. “We’ll go as slow as you need.”

Jimin exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing. He let his forehead fall against Jungkook’s, their noses brushing, breaths mingling.

“Thanks,” he whispered.

“For what?”

“For not making it weird.”

Jungkook chuckled. “Jimin. We’re making out in a lake after capsizing a stolen canoe. It’s already weird.”

Jimin laughed against his lips, the mood lightening, warm again. He kissed him once more—soft this time, like a promise. Then pulled back just far enough to look at him.

“Come on,” he said, nodding toward the island. “Let’s get out of the water before we turn into seaweed.”

“Only if I get to share your towel,” Jungkook grinned.

“What towel,” Jimin shot back, already wading toward shore.

“Oh… right.”

They emerged dripping and breathless, hearts still pounding. They pulled the canoe back to shore together, still dripping but laughing, leaving a trail of water and footprints across the sand. 

Jimin's hair clung to his forehead, his hoodie soaked and clinging to his frame, but he couldn’t remember the last time he felt so light.

Jungkook peeled off his wet hoodie and laid it out like a makeshift blanket, then flopped down with his arms open, eyes closed to the sky. “Five-star resort,” he declared. “Rooftop seating. Lake views. Complimentary fake-to-real-boyfriend.”

Jimin snorted but curled up next to him, resting his cheek on his bare shoulder. “No spa, though. You should complain.”

Jungkook’s arm came around him instantly, pulling him close. “This is better.”

And for a while, they just lay there, tangled together on the sun-warmed rock, their skin drying slowly in the morning light.

Jimin sighed contentedly, fingers tracing idle patterns across Jungkook’s stomach. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything."

“Were you scared coming here?”

Jungkook blinked, then turned to look at him. “Terrified.”

Jimin smiled, comforted by the honesty. “Same.”

“But it all worked out in the end.” Jungkook reached up and brushed damp hair out of his face, “As it always does.”

Jimin stared at him, heart clenching in that same wonderful, terrifying way it always did when he said things like that. “You’re such a sap.”

“I am,” the other said proudly. “You bring it out.”

They kissed again—this one slow, sun-drenched, unhurried. When it broke, they simply lay there in silence, letting time slip past.

Eventually, too soon, a soft chime echoed from across the lake—the retreat’s bell, calling everyone to the closing ceremony.

Jungkook groaned. “Reality.”

“Clothes,” Jimin added mournfully. “Effort.”

They helped each other up, gathering their still-damp hoodies and shoes, stealing one last long look at their tiny island sanctuary before paddling back toward the retreat’s dock.

The midday sun filtered softly through the tall trees as everyone gathered one last time in the common hall. Cushions were scattered around in a loose circle. There was laughter— fond memories and jokes traded easily.

Jimin sat with his leg pressed against Jungkook’s, their pinkies hooked. Everything about the day felt delicate, like glass held between careful hands — shimmering, precious, and impossibly easy to drop.

The retreat leader stepped into the middle, voice calm. “As our final activity together, we’d like each of you to share one thing you’re taking with you. Something this retreat has given you.”

One by one, the couples spoke. There were smiles, inside jokes, tearful thank-yous. When it was their turn, Jimin hesitated — but Jungkook squeezed his hand lightly, as if to say: I’m here.

He spoke first. “A huge revelation.” He glanced sideways at Jimin, his voice filled with mischief. A quiet ripple of laughter moved through the group — some amused, some confused. But Jimin knew. His face blushed, but there was no hiding it now. Not when the words landed like a dare and a promise all at once.

Jimin leaned in and kissed him. Just a soft, sure kiss. But it was enough. A confirmation. 

Yoongi just muttered under his breath, “Fucking finally.”

When the activity ended, and the group began to slowly dissolve — hugs exchanged, numbers swapped, promises to keep in touch.

There was something bittersweet in the air now, like the last page of a book they hadn’t wanted to end. But for Jimin and Jungkook, it didn’t feel like an ending at all.

It felt more like the first real chapter.

The circle began to dissolve around them, one farewell at a time — gentle hugs. The soft murmur of people saying goodbye hummed under the golden stretch of sunlight. It bathed everything in warmth, but to Jimin, it all felt like he was underwater, every sound slightly muted except for Jungkook's presence.

It looped in his head, over and over. He glanced at him, who was still smiling, sheepishly — like he couldn’t believe he had said it aloud, but didn’t regret it for a second.

Namjoon let out a soft, pleased hum. “So… that’s happening now with you two?”

Yoongi put down his half-finished cup of coffee. “And I was starting to think you two would need a fake honeymoon to figure it out.”

“Shut up, hyung,” Jimin muttered, but he was grinning, thumb still brushing Jungkook’s knuckles where their hands were linked.

The retreat leader gave them a look of amused approval. “Well. I guess that was as real an answer as any.”

They drifted away from the group eventually, wordlessly deciding to return to the porch where it had all begun. The wooden planks creaked beneath their steps as they settled on the bench, shoulders touching, legs swinging idly in sync. The sun was lower now, casting long shadows across the clearing.

“They’re probably talking about us,” Jungkook said, voice low, slightly teasing.

Jimin leaned his head on his shoulder. “I bet they’ve been talking about us for days.”

His friend laughed under his breath, the sound rumbling through both of them. “Guess we just gave them a better ending.”

Jimin tilted his face up, eyes searching his. “It’s not an ending.”

“No,” Jungkook agreed, his gaze softening, “it’s not.”

He turned and kissed him again — slower this time. Not for show, just them. Because they could.

He smiled — the kind that started slow and took over his whole face. He kissed Jimin’s lips, then his cheek, then pressed his forehead to his.

And for a while, they just sat there. The world around them quiet, the retreat fading behind them like the final pages of a story. But between them — a whole new one beginning, word by word, breath by breath.

No pretending that time.

Suitcases thumped against pavement, wheels wobbling across gravel. Vans lined up near the edge of the retreat grounds, open doors yawning like reminders that it was time to go. 

Still people lingered — some holding hands a little too long, some exchanging Instagrams they’d never use, some just quiet, unsure of how to say goodbye to something that had cracked something open inside them.

Yoongi and Namjoon were hugging someone near the steps, laughing like they hadn’t spent half the retreat watching other people fall apart and stitch themselves back together.

The sun casting everything in soft nostalgia as the group gathered one last time near the big tree by the parking lot, cars waiting. Someone had brought out an Polaroid camera, and it clicked and whirred with that familiar, grainy charm, printing out memories in real time.

There was laughter — loud, messy, overlapping — the kind that stuck in your throat when you tried to remember it later. Someone joked about capturing "the trauma and the romance," and everyone laughed like they hadn’t been crying on and off for days.

Namjoon and Yoongi posed with lazy peace signs, arms slung over each other as they’d done it a thousand times. Someone threw leaves in the air. Someone kissed a cheek. The camera snapped it all.

Then someone called out, "You two next!" and Jimin turned, startled, only to find his friend already beside him, a wide grin tugging at his mouth like he was nervous and excited all at once.

They stepped into the frame.

It wasn’t posed, not really — Jungkook’s arm slipped easily around his waist, Jimin leaned a little too naturally into the curve of his side. For a split second, they looked at each other.

Not the camera.

Click.

The photo printed with a mechanical whirr.

It was a bit blurry. Their smiles weren’t perfect, but they were real — eyes soft, cheeks flushed, pressed close like the world had faded out for a second and only they remained.

It was the kind of photo that said more than they had ever dared out loud.

The kind someone pinned on a fridge. Or kept in a wallet. Or stared at years later and remembered everything.

When Jimin looked down at the photo slowly developing in his hand, he swallowed hard. It looked like love. And this time, he didn’t flinch.

Jimin stood near one of the vans, the straps of his backpack hanging loose from his hand. He wasn’t really watching anything, just existing in the stillness of the moment, trying to memorize the way the air felt. Light and nervous. 

The car was already waiting — the engine low, windows down to let in the breeze. Jungkook appeared at his side, the way he always did — quiet but magnetic, like gravity knew where it belonged. He was holding his own bag slung over one shoulder, his other hand brushing against Jimin’s before catching it gently.

“Ready for the real world?” he asked, tone light but laced with something more.

Jimin exhaled a slow laugh, barely a breath. “Not even a little.”

Chapter Text

The car rolled to a slow stop in front of Jimin’s building. Neither of them moved right away.

He exhaled, then glanced over. Jungkook was already looking at him. Their eyes met — and there was that look. The one that said, I know. Me too.

Jimin gave him a small smile, hand on the door handle. “Guess we’re back.”

Jungkook nodded, mouth tugging into something close to a smile. “Yeah.” He looked down for a second, then back at him. “Text me when you’re in?”

“Of course,” Jimin said, even though they both knew he’d text before he was even through the front door.

A quick kiss goodbye and he was out of the car, luggage in hand, the weight of the city settling onto his shoulders. He paused on the sidewalk, turned to wave. Jungkook waved back, still sitting behind the wheel.

And then the car pulled away.

Jimin stood there for a second too long, watching the red of the taillights disappear into the thick Seoul traffic. The moment stretched. Suddenly, the quiet of the retreat felt oceans away.

He looked up at his building, sighed softly, and whispered, “...I already miss you.” Then he headed inside.

He slipped his suitcase just inside the door, kicking it closed behind him. The apartment smelled faintly like citrus — his diffuser must’ve timed out mid-week — and when he flicked on the light, he was greeted by the surprisingly healthy sight of his plants.

“Still alive,” he muttered with a half-laugh, crouching to check on the Monstera in the corner. “Tae, you miraculous little freak.” He tossed his keys into the dish by the door and started moving around, reorienting. 

Shoes off. Jacket hung. Phone charging. But there was a soft quiet over everything — not the peaceful quiet of the retreat, but a domestic sort of hush. 

Familiar, but empty.

Dinner was a lazy snack. A banana, some yogurt. He was too tired to cook, too full of something else — thoughts, feelings, longing — to feel truly hungry anyway.

Eventually, he found his way to bed. The sheets were cool against his skin, the ceiling fan hummed faintly overhead. He lay on his side, scrolling through his camera roll — the grainy Polaroid of him and Jungkook, the candid one Yoongi snapped of them mid-laugh, the awkward couple selfies they pretended to take ironically but secretly cherished.

Jimin sighed, phone still in hand, mind buzzing with all the ‘what now’ questions. Schedules. Fans. Secrets. Shadows.

It wouldn’t be easy.

But as he stared up at the darkened ceiling, he whispered aloud to the stillness,
“It’ll be worth it… right?”

Just as his eyes began to flutter shut, his phone buzzed softly on the nightstand.

jk 🐰: 

‘I’m home. Sweet dreams, baby.’

The message glowed in the dark, and Jimin stared at it for a long, quiet second.
His cheeks warmed. His lips tugged up in the dark. He tucked the phone close to his chest and pulled the blanket tighter.

Yeah.

Totally worth it.

The days blurred almost immediately.

Mornings came too early and nights stretched too long. Between music show tapings, rehearsals, dance practices, and fittings, Jimin and Jungkook found themselves back in the whirlwind — the industry didn’t wait, and it certainly didn’t care about fragile new beginnings.

They passed like ghosts sometimes. Ships in the same building, orbiting each other but barely colliding. A glimpse in a mirror. A touch on the shoulder. Eyes locking across a crowded room for just a second too long.

In the cramped greenroom between soundcheck and performance, Jimin slipped in unnoticed, hoodie pulled up, cap low. Jungkook was already seated, scrolling through his phone. Their eyes met.

“Two minutes,” Jimin whispered, crouching next to him, back to the door.
Jungkook grinned sleepily. “One and a half, tops.”

They pressed their foreheads together — no kiss, no scandal — just breath shared in silence. Jimin exhaled.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Tired.”

“Same.”

They didn’t say I miss you, because it hung in the air between them anyway. Jimin brushed his pinky against Jungkook’s.

“You eat today?”

“Half a sandwich. You?”

“Coffee counts?”

Jungkook chuckled, soft. “We suck.”

“We’re trying.”

A knock on the door made them jump. Jimin slipped out as quietly as he came, pulse racing. Jungkook watched the space where he had stood just seconds ago, still hearing his voice.

That night, sometime past 2AM, Jimin’s phone lit up.
Voice Call: jk🐰.

He answered without a word. Just the low rustle of sheets, a tired breath, and Jungkook’s sleepy murmur: “Didn’t get to say goodnight.”

Jimin closed his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips as he curled deeper into his blanket.

“Say it now, then.”

“Sweet dreams, baby.”

Jimin’s voice was soft, almost slurred with exhaustion. “What time’s your call tomorrow?”

“Too early,” Jungkook mumbled, followed by a yawn that Jimin could practically feel through the phone. “You?”

“Same. But I just… didn’t want to go to sleep without hearing you.” 

A beat of silence. Then a quiet little hum from Jungkook. “Me neither.”

They talked about nothing, really — about how someone messed up their choreography earlier, about the weird snack a staff member brought, about how Taehyung accidentally texted nonsense to the group chat instead of his girlfriend again. 

Jimin giggled, half-asleep already, voice getting thinner with every word.
Jungkook caught it, voice lowering instinctively.

“You’re falling asleep.”

“No, I’m not,” Jimin whispered.

“You are. I can hear it.” 

A soft rustle of sheets from Jimin’s end, a little sigh as he burrowed further into his pillow. “I just like hearing you talk.”

Jungkook smiled, voice barely audible now. “Then I’ll talk you to sleep.”

And he did. 

Nonsense at first — a half-story about a dream he had, something about a puppy and a mountain. Then just soft hums, little reassurances. He didn’t know when Jimin actually fell asleep, but he heard the moment his breath evened out, soft and steady on the other end of the line.

Jungkook stayed for a while longer. Just listening. “Goodnight,” he whispered one last time, knowing Jimin couldn’t hear him anymore. “I love you.” 

It happened on a quiet Tuesday night. 

Jimin was already curled up at home, fresh out of the shower, wearing one of Jungkook’s hoodies because—why not. The sleeves were long enough to hide his fingers, and the scent clung to the fabric: sandalwood and detergent and something distinctly him. 

He was flipping through a drama he wasn’t watching when his phone buzzed. Tae sent a link with no context.

‘Bro.’

Jimin clicked.

A tab opened, and his stomach flipped.

There it was: a blurry paparazzi photo, but sharp enough to spark a storm. Jungkook stepping out of the dim-lit side entrance of the restaurant they’d just left hours earlier. 

His head was slightly ducked, hoodie drawn up over his messy hair, mask tugged down as he was holding a small hand of someone out of frame. And around his neck, catching the low light just right—

Jimin’s necklace.

The small silver chain with the delicate black pendant he’d left at Jungkook’s place weeks ago. The one he used to wear almost daily, until Jungkook absently started keeping it on his nightstand. The one Jimin had playfully told him, “You better wear it if you’re gonna steal it.”

And he had. Without saying a word. 

The photo went viral in hours. Fans were zooming in, cropping, analyzing every pixel. It didn’t take long.

Twitter caught fire. 

“IS THAT JIMIN’S NECKLACE?”

“Why does he look so dreamy?? WHO is he smiling at like that??? Clearly not me!”

“Those guys are getting real clingy these days 👀 I’m just saying...”

“Not to be dramatic but if #jikook is real I’m going to pass away 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️”

Jimin covered his face with both hands and groaned into the hoodie. He was both mortified and secretly, ridiculously giddy.

That smile on Jungkook’s face—gentle and genuine, like the world had quieted just for a second—was one he’d seen before. And now, so had everyone else.

Later that week, Jungkook hopped on a Live, casual and cozy in a beanie, sipping on banana milk, pretending nothing had changed — but the chat was unhinged.

He tried to read the comments. Tried to dodge the flood of:

“Who took that pic, huh?”
“Your necklace... looks familiar 😏”
“You look happy lately. Spill.”
“Very sus, Jeon. Very sus.”

Jungkook smiled but didn’t say a word. Just hid his mouth behind his hand, like he always did when he was flustered. The excitement was electric. The fear simmered beneath it.

And Jimin, watching silently from his couch, heart thudding, typed nothing at all — just smiled at the screen like it was his own secret, too. Because it was.

Jungkook glanced at the screen, mouth twitching. For a second, he was quiet. Then he laughed — a soft, sheepish sound.

“Y’all are crazy,” he mumbled. “Delusional.”

But he didn’t deny it. Didn’t explain the necklace. Didn’t name who he had been smiling at. Just sipped his drink again, humming under his breath like he was holding in a secret.

Jimin watched, half-hidden under a blanket, biting his lip to keep from screaming, They know.

A text pinged through a second later. It was a photo — Jungkook holding the necklace in his hand, the pendant resting against his palm.

Then one last message: “Still yours.”

Jimin stared at the screen, heart thudding. He didn’t even realize he was blushing until he caught his reflection in the screen.

God, he was so screwed. So in love.

And it was terrifying. And kind of perfect.

And absolutely, totally — worth it.

Later that night the mood was mellow. Cozy. Familiar.

Jungkook leaned closer to the camera, reading the chat.
“No, I didn’t dye my hair again. It’s just the lighting—”

And then —
just for a second —
a figure crossed the back of the room.
Small, soft steps. A flash of bare legs.

And unmistakably Jimin.

Wearing his hoodie. Jungkook’s hoodie — the worn one with the faded logo, sleeves too long.

Jimin — returning from the kitchen with a snack — not even looking at the camera. Just walked by with a lazy wave, tousled hair and a sleepy smirk on his lips — like he knew what he was doing.

“WAS THAT JIMIN??”

“the hoodie???”

“THEY’RE SO nOt SuBtLe”

“IS THAT JIMIN’S PLACE OR JUNGKOOK’S??”

“STOP TEASING US PLEASE WE’RE SUFFERING”

“THE SMIRK?? goodbye i‘m deceased”

“I KNEW IT I KNEW IT I KNEW IT”

Jungkook bit back a smile and tried to keep his cool. He cleared his throat. Paused. Laughed softly, biting the inside of his cheek. But the grin said everything.

He leaned back again — the blush creeping up his neck impossible to miss.

The rest of the VLive was basically a lost cause after that. Everyone was already busy zooming in, screen-recording, analyzing the hoodie. 

And somewhere offscreen, there was faint laughter like someone was very pleased with himself.

Staying relevant. The industry’s credo. Game, set, match. Internet on fire.

A few days passed. The photo buzz simmered but didn’t explode. No statements. No denials. Jimin and Jungkook had said nothing — and it wasn’t because they were caught off guard. It was deliberate. Calculated in that quiet, unspoken way they came to master over the years.

They didn’t panic. They hadn’t confirmed. They just let it sit.

The fandom spiraled for a day or two — theories, edits, “timeline” breakdowns. But soon enough, the storm began to lose steam. Because it always did.

And when the next Live happened, it hadn’t even been them who drew the focus.

It was Namjoon.

He showed up, rambling about a book he’d just finished, sipping tea, wearing what could only be described as a fashion crime: a neon green hoodie with a massive embroidered duck. It was loud. Confusing. Instant meme material.

But the internet ran with it.

Suddenly, Namjoon’s hoodie was trending: fan art, parody edits. Someone had even made a fake merch drop page. The photo of Jungkook’s smile? Buried in the chaos.

Jimin texted the group chat mid-stream:

Bangtangerines🍊

Yoongi has changed the group name to “Bangtangerines🍊”

“Hyung. That hoodie is a hate crime.”

Joon 🐨
“Shut up. It’s ART.”

Yoongi 🐱
“I’m filing a formal complaint for emotional abuse.”

Joon 🐨

“Just wait, I‘ll give you a reason to.” 😆

Tae 🐻
“It’s giving Grinch during summer.”

Mr. 🌏💁🏻

“I just threw up in my mouth… but I kinda like it?!” 🦆

Joon 🐨
“thanks, I guess?”

Who’ll be going home for Liberation Day? 

Can we carpool? I Hate driving alone 🥹

Mine💪🏻❤️‍🔥

One ride to Busan? I‘ll drop you off,

at your mama‘s house. 😎😘

Yoongi 🐱
Keep it child-friendly boys. My 

amygdala can’t take it no more…

Get over it, hyung 😆😆😆😘

@Mine💪🏻❤️‍🔥pick me up at 10 a.m.

And when Jungkook pulled up outside Jimin’s apartment that morning, leaning over to open the passenger-side door, Jimin’s stomach still fluttered like they’d only just gotten together.

“You’re late,” Jimin said, sliding into the car with a dramatic sigh.

“You’re lucky I came at all,” Jungkook grinned, wearing a white t-shirt and faded jeans, hair pushed back lazily. “I had to skip a nap for this.”

“I should be grateful,” Jimin said, rolling his eyes. But he was already smiling. “Where’s Bam?” he suddenly asked with a hint of reproach when he noticed the empty backseat.

“HA! I knew you just wanted to get to my dog through me.” His boyfriend put on a faux pout. “I left him at Jin‘s. Apparently my cousin is allergic to dogs. And the suggestion to leave her at home instead just earned me a death glare.”

“Stupid cousin,” Jimin muttered. He had been looking forward to five hours of cuddling.

Jungkook reached over, brushing something from his cheek with a thumb. “I see you packed light?”

“I’m just going for the weekend,” Jimin said, motioning to the small bag in his lap. “My mom says if I don't come home for Liberation Day she’s going to put me in the family group chat doghouse."

Jungkook laughed as he pulled away from the curb. “The most dangerous place of all.”

They fell into easy conversation as they drove—updates about the members, minor company dramas, what tv show they were binging. It felt natural. But still new enough that every accidental brush of hands, every shared glance at a red light, still buzzed with that undercurrent of I can’t believe this is us now.

The plan was simple: one quick stop for iced coffee and maybe a bag of chips. They were barely two hours into the drive, the sky already bright with summer heat, Liberation Day flags fluttering from the gas station awning like it was a holiday movie set.

But Jungkook disappeared into the convenience store like a man on a mission. Jimin leaned against the hood of the car, sipping his coffee and watching the glass doors with quiet dread.

Ten minutes later, the door burst open and out came Jungkook, arms full—full—of snacks.

“Jungkook-ah…” Jimin said as he pushed off the car, already shaking his head.

“Don’t worry,” Jungkook called, using his foot to shut the car door behind him as he somehow juggled two plastic bags, a cold water bottle in his teeth, and a hot dog balanced on a banana milk carton. “I got us options.”

“Options? We’re driving three hours, not moving to the wilderness.”

Jungkook dumped everything on the back seat and turned, grinning proudly. “Okay, but listen. You said you didn’t know if you wanted sweet or salty—so I got both. I also got hot, cold, chewy, crunchy, spicy, and nostalgic.”

Jimin blinked. “You got nostalgic? You’re not even thirty.”

Jungkook reached back into the bag and held up a packet of turtle chips. “But you are. Elementary school vibes. You’re welcome.”

Jimin tried to look annoyed, but his lips twitched. “This is so overkill.”

“I also got us matching peach drinks because we’re disgusting now,” his boyfriend added, handing one to him with a wink. “From cottage-core to couple-core.”

Jimin took it wordlessly. Sighed. Then smiled.

“You’re such a menace,” he muttered, sliding into the passenger seat again as Jungkook circled to the driver’s side. “You’re going to give me a stomach ache before my mom even starts in on me for not visiting more often.”

Jungkook started the car, eyes gleaming. “Worth it.”

As they pulled back onto the highway, he reached for one of the bags and shoved it between them, offering Jimin a selection of chips, cookies, and a crushed rice snack.

Jimin laughed under his breath, shaking his head as he grabbed a chip. “You’re the only person I know who can turn a ten-minute pit stop into a buffet.”

Jungkook glanced at him, that easy smile spreading across his face again. “What can I say? You’re worth spoiling.”

And just like that, the road stretched ahead—music playing low, the windows cracked to let in warm air, a pile of ridiculous snacks between them. Jimin leaned his head against the seat, peach drink in hand, eyes on the —way too handsome— driver in —way too expensive— sunglasses.

And in that moment, he wouldn’t have traded this silly road trip for anything.

As they neared the edge of Jimin’s old neighborhood, Jungkook glanced over. “So. Am I allowed to come in? You know… After our relationship upgrade and all that.”

Jimin blinked. “You want to come in?”

Jungkook shrugged, eyes back on the road. “Maybe just for a second. Say hi. I mean—I’m not trying to steal your mom’s son away or anything…Yet.”

Jimin looked at him, half-surprised, half-melting. “You’re serious?”

“I’m not gonna like, show up with flowers and call her mommy yet,” Jungkook said, stealing a grin, “but I thought… maybe I could start showing up a little. Where it matters.”

Jimin didn’t answer right away. His heart was doing that thing again—tight and soft and unbearably full. He looked out the window for a second, swallowed, then turned back with a smile.

“You can come in.”

“For real?”

“Yeah. Just… don’t say anything too charming. She already loves you more than me.”

Jungkook laughed, a little breathless. “No promises.”

They pulled up in front of the house. His mom was already waiting in the doorway, arms crossed like she didn’t trust him not to disappear again.

He grabbed his bag and hesitated—then leaned across the center console and kissed Jungkook on the cheek. “Thanks for the ride.”

And with that, he stepped out into the sun. “One thing. I haven’t told them yet.”

Jungkook just flipped his sunglasses back as he stepped out as well. “I’m basically part of the family by now. What should go wrong?“

“Can’t argue with that,” Jimin grins as his boyfriend slings one arm around his shoulders. 

“Ah, is that Jeon Jungkook?” his mother’s voice rang out, bright and unmistakably pleased.

Jimin rolled his eyes with a helpless little smile. “Hi, Mom.”

But she was already beaming past him, both arms open like she’d been waiting specifically for Jungkook. “You’re too handsome these days. Look at this jawline! Are you eating well? You still working out?”

“Hello, mother,” he said with a perfect bow and a sheepish grin, suddenly all dimples and charm. “Yes, I’m eating well. Mostly snacks today, though.”

“I can tell,” she laughed, reaching up to pinch his cheek affectionately. “You boys must’ve stopped at one of those nasty truck stops. My son always comes back full of sugar.”

Said son muttered, “I didn’t buy seven different types of chips,” but his mother was already waving them inside.

“You must be hot. Come, I made iced tea—your favorite, Jiminie,” she said, already heading for the kitchen. “Go sit in the garden. I’ll bring everything.”

The two of them stepped out into the backyard—a small, carefully tended space full of blooming hibiscus, trimmed hedges, and a pair of shaded chairs set beneath a pergola.

“I told you, she likes you more than me,” Jimin muttered as they sat down.

“She should,” Jungkook said smugly. “I remembered her birthday. You forgot to text her last year.”

“That was one time,” Jimin huffed, nudging him with his knee. “I was sick.”

“Excuses.” Jungkook leaned back in his chair, gaze flicking around the garden with a soft, thoughtful look. “She really did a nice job out here.”

A moment later, his mom emerged with a tray—two glasses of iced tea, a small dish of rice crackers, and a fan she handed straight to Jungkook. “You poor thing, it’s so hot today.”

“Thank you, mother,” Jungkook said, gratefully accepting both the tea and the fan. “You always take such good care of me.”

Jimin gave her a look. “He’s not royalty, Mom.”

“No,” she said, smiling sweetly, “but he remembers my birthday.”

“I was sick!”

She waved him off as Jungkook took a sip of his tea, hiding a laugh behind the glass.

“I just wish you didn’t have to drive back tonight, Kookie,” she sighed as she placed a small plate of sliced fruit in front of them. “It’s already late afternoon, and you know how the traffic gets.”

Jimin, lounging on the garden bench with one leg tucked under him, narrowed his eyes suspiciously. 

“It’s just a short drive to his house,” she went on breezily, clearly already plotting. “He can go home after breakfast. We have a spare mattress. I can put it in Jimin‘s room.”

Jungkook blinked at her, a little surprised but not at all unwilling. “I mean if it’s really no trouble?”

“Of course not!” she said, beaming. “You’re practically family.”

“Mom—”

“Jimin-ah, don’t be rude,” she chided, waving him off before he could object. “If you’re not bringing a girl home at least let me have this."

Jimin’s face went pink. “I just didn’t think you’d adopt him.”

“Don’t be dramatic.” She was already halfway back to the house. “You boys relax. I’m making barbecue—don’t touch anything! Just sit there and look handsome!”

The screen door slammed behind her.

“Easy,” Jungkook grinned smugly.

Jimin groaned and slumped forward. He peeked out from between his fingers. “You’re really staying?”

“If she lets me help grill.” He raised a brow. “I’ve got pride in my samgyeopsal game.”

“God,” Jimin mumbled, flopping back against the bench. “You’re just making it worse.”

But Jungkook smiled, eyes soft as he looked at him. “Feels kind of nice, though. Doesn’t it?”

Jimin blinked at him. Then, slowly, he let himself nod. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “It really does.”

Now he just had to figure out how to keep that whole ‘by the way I‘m dating a guy’ thing under wraps. 

In the distance, the sizzle of something hitting the grill floated through the air, followed by his mom’s voice calling for “someone strong to carry the lettuce basket.”

Jungkook was already standing. “That’s my cue.”

Jimin watched him go—barefoot in the grass, sleeves rolled up, grin easy—and didn’t even bother pretending he wasn’t completely gone for him.

The scent of sizzling meat had barely settled over the garden when the back gate clicked open.

“Oh!” His mom called from the grill. “There’s your father.”

Jimin barely had time to brace himself before his dad stepped into the yard, still in his work slacks and rolled-up sleeves, carrying a six-pack of beer and a smile. The moment he spotted Jungkook standing at the grill tongs in hand, his eyebrows shot up.

“Finally,” he said, striding over. “Someone who actually knows how to grill!”

“Appa,” Jimin groaned from his seat at the low table. “I grill.”

“You burn,” his dad corrected, already clapping a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. “Look at this form. Look at this posture. He’s not scared of the flames. This is real technique.”

Jungkook bowed quickly, laughing. “Thank you, father. I’ve had a lot of practice.”

They gathered at low table, cicadas humming in the bushes, a soft breeze rustling the lanterns. Jungkook handed over the tongs reluctantly, his sleeves smelling faintly of smoke, and took the seat beside Jimin—who was doing a poor job of pretending he wasn’t both mortified and glowing.

His dad poured him a beer, already mid-story about the time Jimin dropped half a tray of galbi into the charcoal during a Chuseok cookout. Jungkook laughed too hard, and Jimin kicked him under the table.

Despite the teasing, the meal was light and easy. They passed dishes around and built messy, overflowing ssam wraps, before feeding each other like they‘ve been doing it forever. 

Jungkook fit in so effortlessly, cracking jokes, even coaxing a laugh from Jimin’s dad when he admitted he once mistook wasabi for avocado and cried in front of his entire boxing gym.

Later, after the food was cleared and the sun had fully dipped below the horizon, they sat in the garden with citron tea and the low hum of night insects around them. 

Jimin, watching Jungkook laugh with his mom over a too-big bite of watermelon, realized he wanted a lot more nights exactly like this.

The tea was mostly gone, the watermelon down to rinds, and the hum of the cicadas had faded to a low, steady backdrop. They were all lounging in folding chairs in the garden still, the lanterns casting golden pools of light. 

“So,” his mom said, casually swirling her tea. “Jungkook-ah, you must have a lot of girls chasing you at that gym of yours. Especially looking this buff as of late. My Jiminie could never.”

“Thanks mom.”

Before his boyfriend could say anything, his dad chuckled. “Or maybe it’s the studio girls, huh? Those backup dancers, they’re always pretty.”

Jimin glanced at Jungkook—who looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or politely dodge.

Jimin let out a quiet breath and sat up a little straighter. There was no reason to hide it any longer. And if his parents weren’t completely blind they must’ve caught on by now. 

“Actually,” he said, voice careful but calm, “there’s no girl. I mean,” he continued, looking between the two of them, “it’s not a girl.”

A pause.

He felt Jungkook shift beside him, not away—just closer, almost imperceptibly.

“We’ve been seeing each other for some weeks now,” Jimin continued. “Jungkook and I.”

He glanced down, then back up, forcing himself to hold their eyes.

Silence.

Like his parents were suddenly suspended mid-thought, caught between expectations and a truth they hadn’t seen coming.

Jimin’s heart beat painfully loud in his chest. He hated the quiet more than he ever feared a reaction.

Chapter Text

Jimin swallowed. “I didn’t mean to drop it like this. I just… I didn’t want to keep lying by omission.”

The silence stretched just long enough to make Jimin’s stomach twist. He could feel his breath catch at the top of his chest, unsure whether to keep explaining.

Then his mother let out a laugh. Not sharp—just warm. Full of something he hadn’t expected: amusement.

Jimin blinked. “...Mom?”

She pressed a hand to her mouth, trying (and failing) to stifle more laughter. His father looked up, finally smiling—small and sheepish. “I told her not to bring it up.”

“What—what do you mean? You knew?”

His mom reached for her tea again, eyes sparkling. “You remember that video call a few weeks ago? The one where you said you were just ‘waking up from a nap’ after practice?”

Jimin froze.

“You had the camera pointed way too close to your face. I could see the pillow. And a muscular, very inked arm.” She shot Jungkook a pointed look. “Which I suspected was yours.”

He turned bright red.

“And then,” she added,“Jungkook’s voice, plain as day, saying something about a shared shower.”

Jimin groaned, dropping his face into his hands. “Oh god.”

“We figured it out then,” his dad said, more gently. “We were just waiting for you two to be ready.”

“We didn’t want to pressure you,” his mom added, softer now. “It’s your story to tell. We just hoped you’d trust us enough to tell it eventually.”

Jimin slowly peeked out from between his fingers. “So you’re… okay with it?”

His mom reached out and patted his knee. “Jimin-ah, I love you. And I love anyone who makes you this happy. Even if he eats all the good lettuce.”

Jungkook let out a relieved laugh.

“You know,” his dad said, “we kinda already knew when you were little.”

Jimin blinked again. “Knew what exactly?”

His dad gave a one-shouldered shrug. “That you were different. Not in a bad way. Just not like the other boys in the neighborhood.”

He smiled a bit then, small and almost embarrassed. “You used to play with your mother‘s makeup. You picked ballet over sports and cried over a dead bird in the yard. And then you worked so hard to become an idol.”

“Appa,” Jimin muttered, rubbing at his face again.

“And that’s fine,” his mom added quickly. “It was never about labels. We don’t care what name you put to it. We just knew who you were. The rest was just a matter of time.”

There was a long pause.

Then: “I did keep hoping you’d marry that girl from church for a while,” she added. “But your father told her you might as well bring home a boy someday. Figured if we were lucky, he’d be a good one.”

She turned slightly toward Jungkook and raised her wine glass. “Looks like we got lucky.”

Jungkook, clearly caught off guard, managed a small bow. “Thank you, mother.”

The next morning sunlight filtering through Jimin‘s childhood curtains was way too bright for this early in the day, and the bed beneath him—narrow, creaky, was barely managing to support both their bodies. 

Jungkook’s leg was slung over his waist, arm curled under Jimin’s neck like a very clingy, overheated octopus. Jimin didn’t have the heart to move. Not yet.

But then came the slam of a pan downstairs.

And his mother’s voice: “Jimin-ah!”

SLAM.

“You and Jungkook get down here! I am not burning the spam just because you’re in love!”

Jimin groaned into the pillow. Jungkook stirred behind him with a low grunt. “Did she just say ‘in love’?” His voice was raspy, low, somehow unfairly sexy for 9:00 a.m.

Jimin sighed. “Yes. She also just declared war on breakfast.”

Another clang followed. Possibly a ladle being thrown into a sink. Jungkook blinked blearily at the door, then collapsed back onto Jimin with a grin. 

“I want to marry into this family.”

Jimin shoved at him half-heartedly. “Don’t joke. She’ll have the guest list drafted before lunch.” But he was smiling.

They eventually dragged themselves up, stole quick kisses between brushing teeth and fighting over whose shirt was whose. Jungkook's hair was a mess, and Jimin’s face was flushed, but neither of them really cared.

By the time they reached the kitchen, his mother already had the table full—steaming rice, fried eggs, kimchi, grilled spam, iced barley tea. 

🎶“Good morning boys. Happy Liberation Day!” 🎶

His dad looked up from the grill in the garden and raised his tongs. “Hey! You gonna help me or are you still recovering from all that steam?”

Clearly an allusion to yet another shared shower they had enjoyed last night.

Jimin choked on his tea. Jungkook, of course, beamed. “It was a very cleansing experience, father.”

“So.” His mom gave Jungkook a meaningful glance, then fixed her gaze on her son. “Was it worth it? You sure looked like you were up late last night.”

Jungkook tried to smother his laugh behind a cough. He failed miserably. “Mother—”

“Oh, don’t mother me. If you’re old enough to fog up my bathroom, you’re old enough to sit through a little teasing.”

Jimin looked like he wanted to evaporate into the rice cooker.

“I mean, I’d rather it be Jungkook in there with you than tissues and some handsome posterboy, right? My poor water bill.”

At that, her husband called through the screen door, “Are you harassing them again, sweetheart?”

“Just encouraging honesty!” she retorted, then turned back to the table. “Now come eat, before the lettuce wilts. I’m not spending Liberation Day watching you two make heart eyes instead of chewing.”

Still blushing furiously, Jimin dragged Jungkook outside by the wrist, past the grill and the ridiculous number of side dishes now occupying the garden table.

Jungkook leaned in close. “You know, if you ever wanted to die of secondhand embarrassment, we could’ve just stayed at the retreat.”

Jimin hissed back, “You’re never allowed to tell my mom anything ever again.”

“I didn’t! I think she has sonar.”

They sat down, Jimin‘s mom already stacking meat onto their plates like nothing happened. “Eat up,” she said cheerfully, “you’ll need energy if you plan on keeping each other up at night.”

“Mom!”

She just waved him off. “We have lots to discuss. Marriage. Babies. Matching tattoos.”

Jimin choked again. “We’ve been dating for some weeks!”

She poured Jungkook a tall glass of iced tea with a wink. “And some people wait too long and end up alone with cats. I’m just keeping the momentum going.”

Jungkook accepted the plate like a hostage accepting his last meal. “I’m both terrified and honored,”he mumbled. But he was clearly enjoying it.

Jimin glared at his boyfriend. “Stop encouraging her.”

Jungkook only reached under the table, pinching his thigh, a smile tugging at his lips. 

After breakfast, the air was thick with that peculiar quiet that settles just before goodbyes. Jungkook stood by the front door, his bag slung casually over one shoulder, but his eyes never left Jimin’s. The moment stretched—too long, maybe—but neither of them wanted to be the first to look away.

Then Jungkook pulled him close, hands framing his face, and kissed him—hard, a little desperate, electric. Lips pressed firmly, fingers threading through hair. It was the kind of kiss that said ‘stay’ and ‘come back soon’ all at once.

Jimin clung to him, breath hitching, before they finally broke apart—both a little breathless, cheeks flushed.

From the kitchen, his mom‘s voice rang out. “Jungkook-Ah! Don’t forget—call me regularly! Jimin is too damn busy these days. I expect daily updates on my son’s happiness.”

Jungkook turned, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “You have my word, mother.”

She narrowed her eyes playfully. “Good. Because if you don’t, I’m coming after you myself.”

Jimin laughed softly, resting his head against his boyfriend’s shoulder, still smiling.

“Alright,” Jungkook said, “I’ll text you, baby. See you tomorrow.”

He hoisted his bag and headed for the car. Jimin watched him go, already counting down the hours until he’d see him again.

He was so screwed.

After the holiday haze faded, schedules kicked back in with full force. Their first comeback after enlistment had made quite the impression, hitting Nr. 3 on the Top 100.

And shortly after then the invitation came:
The Asian Music Awards.
Best Comeback — Nomination.

The group chat exploded.

Namjoon had typed a full three paragraphs about artistic validation before Taehyung derailed it with a barrage of star emojis and a selfie of his “award face.” Hobi threatened to show up in a rhinestone suit, whereas Jin sent a picture of himself winking under the caption: “You’re welcome, Korea.”

Jimin read the message twice, heart pounding—not just from the nomination, but from the fact that they’d be walking into that venue together. Onstage again. In front of the cameras, the fans… the world.

He glanced at his phone.

Jungkook had already sent a private message.

Mine💪🏻❤️‍🔥

You ready to stun in another cropped 

blazer or should I wear one too and 

outdo you 😏

Please, babe. As if… 😘

Oh, I’m gonna try. Also—save me 

a seat. Window. Your shoulder. 🍑

The awards felt like some kind of reunion with the industry they had grown into over the past decade. 

The red carpet was a blur of shouts—names being called, instructions barked out, flashes popping from every angle. Jimin had done this a hundred times, maybe more. But this time, his palm was sweaty for a different reason.

Because Jungkook was right beside him. 

They stepped forward as a group, styled to perfection—Jimin in sleek black with silver accents on his collarbone, Jungkook in a double-breasted navy suit that clung to him unfairly well. 

The press shouted. Their fans screamed louder.

They paused for the usual poses—smiling, turning slightly, waving.

Jimin’s hand was so close to Jungkook’s. Just the faintest brush of fingers.

He wanted to reach for him. Even tried, a little—his pinky twitching just enough to touch his for a heartbeat.

And then the moment passed, swallowed by the next flash of a camera, the next shout from the press line.

Inside the arena, everything was dimmer, cooler—like anticipation was echoing in the walls. Staff led them to their table near the front, right by the stage, their names glittering on the black place cards.

Jimin barely noticed. Because the second they sat down, Jungkook’s hand found his under the tablecloth. Warm and familiar.

Their table was a small island of glam and nerves, each of them reacting to the anticipation in their own way—Taehyung bouncing his leg under the table, Hobi mouthing lyrics to every upcoming song, Jin shamelessly posing for every camera sweep that passed. Yoongi, meanwhile, looked deeply unimpressed.

When the announcer finally returned to the stage, the music cut, and the screen behind them flashed:

“Nominees for Best Comeback”

Their album cover appeared on screen. The table tensed.

Yoongi muttered, deadpan, “I really didn’t see this coming, guys. So honored.” Namjoon stifled a laugh, elbowing him lightly.

“I mean,” he continued, voice low, “it’s not like we had two number ones this year and an emotional comeback arc that made half the industry cry.”

Jungkook snorted into his hand. “Hyung, you wrote two of the songs.”

“And I remain mystified by our success,” his hyung retorted, staring straight ahead, sipping from his water like it was wine. “Truly humbled.”

Then the envelope was opened. “And the award for Best Comeback goes to…”

Anticipated silence followed. Even after over a decade in the industry Jimin still got nervous in moments like these.

Their name rang out through the speakers and the crowd exploded.

Jimin barely registered the cameras zooming in, or the faces around them—just the press of Jungkook’s hand against the small of his back as they made their way to the stage, a wide grin on his face.

Namjoon stood at the mic, the golden award heavy in his hand, his voice steady but full of his usual emotion.

“This comeback was more than just music for us,” he said, eyes scanning the massive crowd. “It was healing. Reconnection. And a reminder that no matter how far we go, BTS always finds its way back to each other. We’re incredibly grateful to be standing here again tonight. This comeback meant more to us than anyone knows. We took risks, we told the truth. Thank you for letting us do that—for walking with us.”

Beside him, Jimin nodded, doing his best to look poised, emotional and award-show-appropriate.

And then he felt it. A quick, unmistakable pinch on his butt.

His eyes went wide, just for a second.

His head snapped to the side—Jungkook was standing a little behind him, smiling at the crowd, clapping for Namjoon like he hadn’t just committed an atrocious crime.

He met his eyes and had the absolute nerve to wink. Jimin cleared his throat, straightened his shoulders, and bit back a laugh that almost derailed the entire broadcast. His ears were glowing now. 

Namjoon, oblivious, kept going. “And of course, our ARMY. You’re the reason this comeback exists. We hope you felt seen. Heard. Loved. Thank you, truly.”

As the crowd erupted again, Jimin leaned sideways just enough to hiss under his breath, “You’re insane.”

Jungkook grinned. “You like it.”

Jimin didn’t answer—but the flush creeping down his neck said enough.

Backstage the energy was buzzing—stylists darting in and out, cords tangled with headsets, staff shouting over the thrum of bass echoing from the stage. In the dressing room, the group had mere minutes to change into their performance outfits.

Jimin stood in front of the long mirror, shirt half-buttoned, makeup being touched up for the third time. His stage look was sleek and soft. He caught a glimpse of Jungkook behind him in the mirror and nearly lost his balance.

He was already dressed—tight black tank that showed off his arms way too well, microphone wire curling down the back of his neck. He looked unfair. Illegal, even.

Their eyes met in the mirror. Jimin’s makeup artist paused, confused by the way he suddenly stopped breathing.

Jungkook raised one brow, sauntered closer without breaking eye contact, and plucked a piece of lint off Jimin’s shoulder.

“Wanna spend the night at my place?” he whispered, low enough for no one else to hear.

Jimin tilted his head, biting back a smirk. “Sure,” he said nonchalantly. But his heart raced.

Jimin's stylist made a disapproving noise. “Stop moving.”

Taehyung breezed into the room, flipping his coat dramatically. “Can we please pretend we’re not in a soap opera for five minutes? I’m trying to manifest no sweat stains before this live performance.”

The final call came over the intercom. “BTS to side stage. Two minutes.”

Everyone moved in sync—mics checked, in-ears secured, staff hustling them down the corridor past crew and flashing lights.

As they lined up in the wings, waiting for the cue to go on, Jungkook reached out, quick and subtle, and brushed his fingers along the inside of Jimin’s wrist—barely a touch, but enough to ground him.

Jimin exhaled. One last breath before the stage.

Then the limelights switched on. The beat dropped, lights slicing through the darkness in red and white. The crowd went wild, voices rising in a single, tidal wave.

The group emerged through the smoke.

Jimin’s body moved from instinct—precise, controlled—but inside, everything was sparking. His blood buzzed with adrenaline, every sense tuned to the presence at his back.

Jungkook.

He was magnetic. Every movement felt deliberate. 

The choreography brought them close—closer than usual. And while they’d rehearsed this a dozen times, tonight, it felt differently. Every glance timed, lips parted, sweat glinting at his temple. Their eyes locked.

And held too long.

During the chorus, Jungkook spun into place behind him, breath brushing the back of his neck. Jimin tilted his chin just slightly, not enough to break formation—but enough to feel it. The heat. 

The crowd screamed louder, but it was all static in his ears. Because Jungkook’s gaze was smoldering, his voice low and gravelly, and when they passed each other in a twirl, their fingers brushed again. Not by accident this time. A deliberate stroke of knuckles against palm.

It was chaos in his brain and perfection in his body—every move landed, sharp and fluid, like they were dancing inside their own little world. By the bridge, when they stood back-to-back, Jimin could feel Jungkook’s exhale against his shoulder blade.

He could feel everything.

And when the final note hit, lights exploding in gold, the crowd screaming their name—Jimin didn’t even need to look at Jungkook to know he was smirking.

Jungkook winked at him. Then the lights dropped.

The audience roared and Jimin couldn’t breathe

The walk to Jungkook’s place was quiet. The city hummed around them, a blur of passing headlights and muffled street sounds. It was late, and their steps were slow — neither of them was in a rush to reach the door.

They didn’t talk much, but their hands stayed intertwined. Jimin swung their arms a little, just to feel the weight of his palm against his own.

At the apartment, Jungkook opened the door with his usual sleepy grin. “Home sweet mess,” he said. Jimin laughed softly, toeing off his shoes and slipping inside. 

Jungkook tossed his jacket over the back of the couch and disappeared into the kitchen to grab them some water. Jimin stood in the middle of the living room for a second, feeling weirdly out of place in a space that had always been welcoming. 

His heart was fluttery and unsure, like it hadn’t caught up with the fact that they were allowed to be like this now.

“Nice performance,” Jungkook yawned and tossed him the bottle.

"Likewise."

After their night routine they settled into bed like they always did, quiet jokes and laughter under the soft hum of the air purifier. 

Jungkook wrapped an arm around his waist like it was second nature. Jimin lay still for a long time, listening to the breath calming down beside him. 

He could feel the warmth of Jungkook’s chest against his back, the steady rhythm of his breathing. He wanted to turn around. He wanted to kiss him. He wanted to touch him, to—

Jimin knew what he wanted, it just scared him too much to admit it. His fingers twitched at his side, aching to reach for something more. But instead, he exhaled slowly and let his eyes close.

He could feel him shift behind him, subtly. Neither of them said anything. The quiet felt different now — it was somewhat charged and heavy.

Without saying a word, Jimin turned around and leaned in. The kiss started slow as if testing the waters. It didn’t take long before it deepened, each kiss soft and patient, having all the time in the world. 

His hand found Jungkook’s chest, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat beneath his fingers. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice a low whisper.

Jimin nodded, his heart racing. “I think I‘m ready.”

“You think?”

“I‘m sure.”

“Good. Lie down, baby, and just relax.”

Jimin lay back against the pillows, breath shallow, eyes fixed on Jungkook above him. There was something in his expression — a quiet vulnerability paired with want. 

He leaned down slowly, brushing his lips over Jimin’s. The kiss deepened quickly, mouths parting, breath catching. 

His hands roamed — across Jimin’s waist, up his ribs, along the curve of his back — learning every inch of skin like it was the first and last time he’d ever be allowed to touch it.

Jimin arched into him with a soft gasp, fingers slipping into his dark hair, tugging just enough to make him groan. “You drive me insane,” he whispered against his mouth, but his voice was thick, needy, like he didn’t mind losing his mind over this.

Their clothes scattered the floors as Jimin shifted beneath him, legs parting in invitation. His hands slided down Jungkook’s back, gently guiding him in. His body arched to meet him, breath catching when their hips aligned and the heat between them grew unbearable.

Their bodies moved together slowly at first. Each press of hips drew a breathless moan from Jimin lips, each roll deeper and more desperate than the last. There was nothing rushed, but urgency in the way they clung to each other — skin slick, nails dragging down spines and across shoulders.

Jimin’s head tipped back, exposing the line of his throat, and Jungkook kissed his way down, teeth grazing lightly before soothing with his tongue. He shivered under him, legs tightening around his waist, urging him closer —deeper.

“Jungkook,” he breathed, voice breaking around the syllables. “Don’t stop.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered, forehead pressed to his, their breath mingling in the space between. “I’ve got you, baby.”

Each thrust, each kiss, each whispered name built toward something all consuming, heat, want and finally… relief. When Jimin came, it was with a choked gasp in the back of his throat, head turned into the pillow, body trembling as he fell apart with Jungkook still moving.

He followed moments later, hand clutching him tightly, grounding himself in the one thing that felt real. His release hit hard, a guttural moan against his neck, a full-body shudder as everything unraveled.

They stayed like that for a while — sweat cooling on bare skin, chests rising and falling in sync, fingers loosely laced together.

Eventually, Jungkook shifted just enough to kiss his shoulder, lazy and sweet. 

“Still with me, shorty?”

Jimin hummed, eyes half-lidded but warm. “Barely...”

He listened to the steady thrum of Jungkook‘s heartbeat, his fingers tracing lazy patterns over the skin of his side. “I’ve wanted this for too long,” he murmured, while his heart refused to calm down.

Jungkook kissed his forehead, his arms pulling him closer. There was no more pretending as they drifted into a peaceful slumber, hoping that this would last far beyond this night.

Jimin woke to the soft morning glow slipping in through the curtains, gold against the walls. It was quiet — the kind of quiet that only existed between people who knew each other for too long.

The hum of the city was distant, the early light cut through the curtains in slanted lines. Jimin shifted, blinking slowly, and their eyes met — half-lidded, still caught in the haze of sleep. His boyfriend was already awake, propped on one elbow, gazing at him.

“Morning,” he mumbled, voice rough and low, and god — it did something to him. Jimin rubbed at his eyes, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. “You’re staring.”

“You’re pretty… All puffy and sleepy. So cute.” The words were too soft to be teasing, but Jungkook smiled anyway. That shy, post-sleep smile that always looked like it barely made it out before he could take it back.

Jimin hummed. His heart stuttered a little as he turned in the warm cocoon. They were close. Too close, yet not close enough.

He leaned forward, their lips met again. Not hungry — just slow and lazy. A kiss that felt like the continuation of a dream, memories of last night, they weren’t ready to wake from.

The kisses grew a little deeper, a little longer. Still gentle, but charged. Jungkook exhaled against his mouth, and it stirred something — that same want from the night before, now undeniable in the morning light. Jimin shifted closer, legs tangled.

“So, did we make it weird?” Jungkook asked, hesitant.

But Jimin softly shook his head. “Not in the slightest.”

“You good?” 

“Never better.” He leaned in and gave him a peck on the nose. “Just a little sore...” He frowned. “You went for it like rent was due.”

His boyfriend threw his head back and laughed wholeheartedly. “You‘re welcome.”

“Welcome? You better think of a believable excuse why I won’t partake in the tour rehearsal today.”

“Can I make it up to you with a nice breakfast?”

“In bed?” Jimin pouted. “Walking is not on the table today.”

Jungkook chuckled and buried his face in Jimin's hair, gently kissing his head.

He got up and disappeared, presumably to the kitchen. After a while Jimin heard the door creak open. Then came the clatter of a tray. And finally—

“Room service,” Jungkook announced, voice smug with pride and far too cheerful for 8 a.m.

Jimin groaned, rolling onto his back with a wince. “About time.”

Jungkook nudged the tray onto the mattress and leaned down, kissing the corner of his mouth. “You look like a beautiful, thoroughly wrecked prince. I did good.”

“You’re so annoying,” Jimin muttered, cheeks flushed, but he was already pulling the tray toward him.

It was messy but sweet—scrambled eggs, rice, a few sausage slices cut into little octopus shapes, and a mug of iced coffee. 

Jimin had never loved anything more. “You cooked with your shirt off, didn’t you?”

“I’m not confirming or denying,” Jungkook said, plopping onto the bed beside him, stealing a bite off his plate. “But I will say the kitchen is now missing one dish towel and a very cute moment of me dancing with it.”

Jimin smiled, soft and slow, chewing carefully before replying with his mouth full. “You’re a menace.”

“Forever your menace.”

A pause.

Forever.

The weight of those words, light as they were, settled somewhere deep in his chest. Jimin glanced at him, finding those big, dark eyes watching him like he was something out of the ordinary.

Without thinking, he leaned in, pressed a kiss to his mouth, then another, softer, on the curve of his jaw.

“You’re disgustingly sweet in the mornings,” he whispered.

“And yet you’re blushing.”

“I’m not—shut up.”

Jungkook grinned, leaning his forehead against Jimin’s. “Don’t worry. I’ll make breakfast every morning if it means you look at me like that.”

“I can’t walk. You owe me this.”

“Fair,” his boyfriend said, nuzzling closer. “But don’t act like you didn’t enjoy every second of it.”

Jimin rolled his eyes, still smiling. “This confidence is going to be the death of me.”

They sat like that for a while, breakfast cooling between kisses and quiet laughter, wrapped in warm sheets.

Jimin didn’t need to say it. He already knew that everything was going to be just fine.