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It was their first time seeing each other in almost three months—a record separation since they’d become friends. Summer break had pulled them in opposite directions for once: Jimin to a dance camp in Seoul, and Jungkook to his sister’s place by the coast.
A movie night had been declared as a welcome-back get-together for Jungkook, and they had taken it upon themselves to secure the snacks. By which Jimin meant: Jungkook was tossing random junk into the basket while he tried to prevent a nutritional collapse.
"Do you really need three different flavors of chips?"
"Yes. Each for a different emotional arc of the movie," Jungkook answered with no hesitation, dropping a bag of sour cream and onion into their growing pile.
Jimin caught sight of his favorite chocolate bars perched teasingly on the top shelf. He reached up, rising onto the balls of his feet, stretching his fingers as far as they would go. Just when he was about to graze the edge of the box, his foot slipped slightly on the polished tile.
He wobbled.
Before he could fall or even yelp, a warm hand wrapped around his wrist and steadied him.
"Careful," Jungkook said, effortlessly pulling him back down to balance.
Jimin blinked up at him, momentarily frozen in surprise.
"Okay, that was suspiciously easy for you," he muttered.
Then, curiosity got the better of him. Jimin squinted, stepped back a little, and tilted his head. "Turn around. Twice."
Jungkook raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"Come on, give me a spin."
With a dramatic sigh, Jungkook did a slow, lazy spin. Twice.
Jimin narrowed his eyes. Then, without thinking much of it, he stepped closer and gave Jungkook’s upper arms a light, investigative squeeze—once, then again, like he was checking if they were real.
"What the hell," he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else. "How did I not notice you grew, like... a whole person under those hoodies? What the hell?"
Jungkook laughed, clearly enjoying himself. "I’m a late bloomer."
"You bloomed into a fridge."
"Yyyy.. thanks?"
"That wasn’t a compliment. I’m scared of you now."
Jungkook shrugged. "There was a gym right next to my sister’s apartment, and I was bored out of my mind. Figured I’d try it. Then I just… kept going."
"You were bored?" Jimin scoffed, grabbing the chocolate and tossing it into the cart with unnecessary force. "You barely texted me the entire time! I got, like, one blurry photo of a dog and a 'lol' in response to my paragraph. That’s criminal behavior."
"Two dogs," Jungkook corrected. "And they were very cute."
"Not the point. Spill. What did you do all this time?"
Jungkook hummed, pretending to consider, before grabbing a bag of strawberry Pocky. "Slept a lot. Helped with Sooyeon's café. Almost got in a fight with a seagull, the ones on the coast are surprisingly aggressive."
"There must’ve been a lot of aggressive seagulls if you came back looking like that."
"They started it. One of them dive-bombed me while I was holding a tuna sandwich, and I swear it had murder in its eyes. I had to lunge behind a bench like I was in an action movie."
As he spoke, Jungkook lifted his arms, dramatically mimicking wings flapping and the arc of the dive. He even made a screeching noise under his breath and twisted his body like he was dodging an incoming missile.
Jimin doubled over laughing, nearly dropping the pack of mochi he'd just picked up. "Oh my god. You’re not serious."
"You didn’t see the glint in its eye, Jimin. It wanted blood."
Jimin wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, still laughing. "You really did go through it, huh."
"Trauma changes people."
"Apparently it gives them biceps."
Jimin gave Jungkook another once-over, eyes flicking from shoulder to arm to waist and back again before he could stop himself. He tugged at his collar, suddenly feeling unreasonably warm in the brightly lit aisle.
________________________________________
On the walk back to school, the sun filtered through the leaves in flickering patches, warm and golden. Their sneakers thudded softly against the pavement, punctuated by the rustle of snack bags and the occasional car driving past.
"Why are you running?" Jimin asked, half-jogging to keep up, lungs mildly offended by Jungkook’s unexpected Olympic speedwalk energy.
Jungkook replied, not slowing. "I just have a naturally urgent vibe."
Jimin rolled his eyes. "You have a naturally chaotic vibe. There’s a difference."
"Excuse you," Jungkook gasped. "I’m incredibly composed. Mature. Graceful, even."
"You tripped on a gum wrapper five minutes ago."
"It was camouflaged."
Jimin snorted. He glanced at Jungkook, who was walking with that easy, confident rhythm he’d somehow acquired over the summer, and felt his stomach do something it really shouldn’t be doing during a casual sidewalk roast session.
"So..." Jimin said, tossing a chip bag from one hand to the other. "Did you miss me, or did the gym fill the void in your heart?"
Jungkook didn’t look at him, but the smile was unmistakable. "Depends. Did you miss me, or were you too busy being a dance prodigy in Seoul?"
"A compliment before noon?" Jimin raised an eyebrow. "Wow. The bird trauma really did change you. You’re soft now."
"Says the guy who's still emotionally stunned," Jungkook teased, then softened. "But don’t worry, hyung—I missed you too."
Jimin pretended to choke on air. "Gross. Don't get all sentimental on me now."
"Too late," Jungkook grinned. "I’m full of feelings and protein."
Jimin groaned, but he was smiling too.
They reached the school gates just as a group of juniors rushed past them toward the side entrance. The building buzzed with familiar weekday energy — clatter from the cafeteria, muffled announcements over the PA, someone sprinting down the hall like a menace.
"So," Jungkook said as they walked through the corridor, "how was dance camp?"
Jimin perked up. "Pretty fun. Intense. I learned a ton, but my knees still haven’t forgiven me."
"Worth it?"
"Mostly," Jimin said with a shrug. "There was this one instructor who kept yelling 'more hips!' at me every ten seconds. I was like, Sir, I have limited to one pair of hips. What more do you want?"
Jungkook laughed, shoulders shaking, eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked at Jimin with an expression that could only be described as unfairly cute.
"Don't worry, I think your hips are more than fine," he said, wiggling his eyebrows.
"Oh, you think?" Jimin said with a sly smile. "You should've come with me to camp then. It would've been so fun together."
"Nah, I’m not that good. You know I love dancing, just not as much as you do."
He wasn’t wrong. Years ago, Jungkook had joined the dance classes only because Jimin had been too shy to do it alone. And then he’d decided to stay, even though he never planned to major in it.
They slowed near the arts wing, stopping at the door to Jimin’s classroom.
"What class do you have now?" Jimin asked, shifting his snack bag to the other hand.
" Software Fundamentals," Jungkook sighed.
Jimin blinked. "That's across campus. So that's why you were walking so fast? So you’d walk me all the way here and then sprint to get to your own class?"
"Obviously," Jungkook said, holding Jimin’s gaze with mock intensity—like he was making a point out of being over-the-top about it, but there was something warm beneath it too.
Jimin looked away for a second, suddenly very interested in the scuff marks on the floor. "Oh. Cool. Uh... see you at swimming?"
Jungkook smiled. "Yeah. Locker room?"
"Yeah," Jimin echoed, cheeks warm. "Locker room."
As Jungkook turned to head off, Jimin lingered for a second, still facing the classroom door. The hallway was unusually warm for September, the kind of clingy heat that made your shirt stick to your back and your thoughts get fuzzy.
He squinted up at the window and sighed. "Fucking global warming."
________________________________________
The locker room was already humid when Jimin stepped inside, clutching his gym bag and trying not to let his hair puff out from the heat. He found an empty bench near the back, dropped his stuff, and started changing at a leisurely pace, half-lost in thought.
He’d just pulled his shirt over his head when the door swung open with a bang.
Jungkook burst in, slightly breathless, a towel slung over his shoulder and goggles hanging from his fingers.
"I swear this campus is a maze," he huffed, wiping his forehead. "Why is the pool always the farthest possible location from literally everything else? I signed up for swimming as cardio, not for the cross-campus sprint just to get to the locker room," Jungkook complained, already crouching to tug off his boots.
"Well, I just think no one expected engineering majors to be into swimming. You’re literally the only one here from your class," Jimin said, swatching as Jungkook tugged off his hoodie.
"Don’t even get me started on classes," Jungkook muttered, voice muffled somewhere under the fabric as it got briefly stuck over his head. "First class of the semester and Mr. Kim already wants us to prep a full project."
But Jimin wasn’t listening.
His eyes had locked onto Jungkook’s torso — all sun-kissed skin and defined abs, faintly glistening with sweat under the fluorescent lights. It was the kind of sight that felt illegal before 3 p.m.
Jimin tore his gaze away and pretended to be deeply invested in folding his shirt. He cleared his throat once, then again, as if it would shake the image from his mind.
"You good?" Jungkook asked, now fully de-hoodied and digging in his bag for swim goggles.
"Yep. Totally. Why wouldn’t I be?" Jimin answered too quickly.
Jungkook looked up at him for a second, eyebrows slightly raised. "You sure? You look a little... flustered."
Jimin scoffed. "Flustered? Please. I'm unflusterable."
"That’s not a word," Jungkook said, grinning.
"It is now. I just invented it. You’re welcome."
Jungkook chuckled and finally pulled out his goggles with a victorious noise. "Let’s go before Coach kills us for being late."
Jimin nodded and grabbed his towel, mentally willing his brain to reboot before they got to the pool deck.
Okay, so the pool was a bad idea. Could he still switch classes this early in the semester? Maybe to running? He hated running, but right now, sprinting away didn’t sound like the worst alternative.
Jimin was already in the water, slowly adjusting to the temperature, trying to act like everything was fine and normal and not at all wildly overstimulating. Jungkook was still on the pool deck, chatting with their coach. In his swim shorts.
Which—yes, obviously, of course, swim shorts at the swimming pool, how revolutionary. But somehow, the outfit seemed more confronting than ever.
They were the same shorts he’d worn last year. Jimin remembered because he’d seen them a million times. But back then, they hadn’t clung quite like that. How were they so tight now? Did Jungkook change his laundry detergent and it accidentally tightened the fabric? That has to be it.
Then his gaze shifted to the shoulders—broad, sculpted, and absolutely not the kind of thing you could ignore in polite company. Damn, they were huge. He could probably pick up something heavy. Like, say... a whole person. Jimin, for example.
Unfortunately, his brain took that thought and sprinted with it. One second he was staring, the next he was mentally picturing Jungkook lifting him—hands under his thighs, legs wrapped around his waist.
"Your nose is bleeding," came Taehyung's voice from behind, dragging him violently out of his imagination.
Jimin slapped a hand to his face in panic, only to find—nope, no blood.
"Oh, fuck you, Tae," he groaned, and dunked his head under the water.
This class was going to be the end of him.
After forty minutes of swimming nonstop, Jimin heard Jungkook call out to him from the other end of the pool—voice playful, hair dripping, all wet and sexy.
"Let’s race," Jungkook said, flicking water from his bangs. "Loser buys lunch."
"You know you have no chance," Jimin replied, smirking as he floated closer.
"Shut up, I’m better now. I’ll definitely win."
"You sure you don’t need a head start?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"We start in three," Jungkook said. "Three, two, one—go!""
Jimin launched forward, arms cutting through the water as fast as his body would allow. He knew how competitive Jungkook was—this would be close—but Jimin had it. He so had it.
He was just a few strokes away from the wall when he felt a sudden tug at his ankle, followed by a firm pull downward. He sputtered, twisted, and found himself face-to-face with Jungkook—laughing underwater, hands gripping his thighs as they both flailed in a chaotic tangle.
They surfaced a moment later, splashing and gasping for air, still tangled up and giggling.
"This is an outrage!" Jimin shouted, pushing water at him. "Unfair treatment of the small and speedy!"
"It's called strategy," Jungkook grinned, breathless. "You wouldn’t get it."
They grabbed the edge of the pool, panting and dripping. Jungkook was still close, one hand resting lightly on Jimin's waist. Water dripped from his hair, trailing down his jaw and neck as he looked at Jimin with wide, unreadable eyes.
Jimin blinked, trying not to look at Jungkook's mouth. Failing.
"You cheated," he mumbled, voice low.
Jungkook grinned, not moving back. "And yet here you are, still clinging to the edge like a sore loser. Lunch is on me, by the way—peace offering."
Jimin scoffed, but his heart was thudding way too fast for that comeback to land properly. Jungkook’s hand on his waist tightened, pulling him even closer until their limbs brushed underwater, warm skin on skin.
Jimin felt his swim shorts tighten uncomfortably and mentally screamed into the void.
"We’re done! Out of the pool!" Coach barked from the deck.
Bless the coach. A true hero. Rescuer of lives and shreds of dignity.
Jungkook released him, still smiling, then hopped up onto the edge of the pool and held out a hand to Jimin.
A little rattled, Jimin shook his head. "I’ll do one more round. You can go ahead."
"Okay, Mr. Unflusterable," Jungkook said with a knowing smirk. "As you wish."
He grabbed his towel and walked off without looking back, leaving Jimin alone with his raging boner and rapidly crumbling mental stability.
He was, in every sense of the word, fucked.
________________________________________
The thing was, Jimin had known Jungkook for basically his entire life.
They’d met in preschool, of all places—Jimin vividly remembered it. Someone had snatched his favorite plushie right out of his hands during playtime. He was too shy to fight back, on the verge of tears, when a chubby-cheeked boy in a Super Mario T-shirt jumped in like a tiny whirlwind of justice.
A bit of shoving, a dramatic scolding, and one triumphant return of the plushie later, Jungkook had plopped down next to him with a toothy grin and said, "Hi, I’m Jungkook. Wanna build blocks together?"
From that day on, they’d been inseparable. Dance classes, sleepovers, exams, heartbreaks, arguments over which ramen brand was superior—Jungkook had always just been there.
Which made this current mental breakdown even more infuriating.
Sure, Jungkook was handsome and great and objectively a walking crush, but Jimin had never really looked at him that way. They’d been so close for so long—practically fused at the hip—that he never questioned how close was too close.
Until now.
Sitting in the far corner of the cafeteria, staring blankly at his juice box and waiting for Jungkook, Jimin was having what could only be described as a full-body realization.
They’d tested the waters of friendship so thoroughly, so completely, that Jimin had somehow ended up drowning in it.
Which, honestly, was a great metaphor considering the whole pool incident. He gave his own back a small, sarcastic pat in congratulations for the literary synergy.
He wondered if Jungkook was also underwater just like him. If he’d ever looked back at their entire friendship from a new angle and realized how close they'd really been.
Jungkook had never had a serious relationship. Just like Jimin. And somehow, it had always been them together. Whenever they went to parties and someone tried to flirt with Jungkook, he’d always brush it off with, "I need to get back to Jimin."
When someone suggested going to the movies, Jungkook would say, "Sure, but I’m bringing Jimin."
He always picked him. Every time. And maybe, just maybe, that had meant something all along.
Speak of the devil—Jimin heard Jungkook’s voice somewhere nearby, low and familiar. He looked up and spotted him across the cafeteria, standing near the vending machines, talking to a girl Jimin didn’t recognize.
She was laughing at something Jungkook said, one hand brushing his arm casually.
Jimin blinked. And then blinked again.
Oh no. No no no. Not now. Not when he’d just had his grand revelation and was still internally screaming about it.
He took a long, unnecessary sip from his juice box, like it could cool the ridiculous heat blooming in his chest.
He stared at Jungkook, mentally willing him to look over—and he did, locking eyes with Jimin across the room.
Jimin offered a small, knowing smile and tilted his head slightly, gesturing with his eyes to the empty seat beside him.
Jungkook immediately lit up, smiled back like he’d been looking for an excuse, and said goodbye to the girl with an easy wave.
Jimin: 1. Random girl: 0.
Take that, little shit.
And now Jungkook was walking toward him, bright-eyed and easy, like nothing at all was unraveling inside Jimin’s chest.
He plopped down across from him and grinned. "How hungry are you? I'm famished. I feel like I could eat a whole bear. I was thinking burgers. They look huge."
Jimin blinked, slow and mechanical, like his brain was still rebooting.
"Uh. Yeah. Burgers sound good," he said, entirely too normal for the sheer panic rippling through his body.
They ate in surprising peace, chatting about classes and movies to pick for the night.
It felt like nothing had really changed. And maybe it hadn’t. Maybe Jimin had always been in love—he’d just never realized it until now.
________________________________________
Dance class was their last one for the day. Jimin had arrived a bit earlier to warm up and go over a few sections of choreography he still wasn’t happy with. The studio was slowly filling up with people, sunlight spilling in through the high windows, casting long lines on the floor as he moved through familiar steps.
He didn’t hear Jungkook come in at first—just the soft squeak of sneakers on polished wood, followed by a lazy, "Don’t wear yourself out, hyung. You still have to keep up with me."
Jimin glanced at the mirror, catching Jungkook’s reflection. "Don’t worry, I still have plenty of energy," he said, tossing a smirk over his shoulder.
He didn’t stop dancing, the music still echoing through the studio.
He spun into pirouette after pirouette, graceful and focused—until he caught sight of Jungkook in the mirror. Stretching. Doing a split, to be exact. In perfectly fitting yoga pants.
Immediately, Jimin lost his balance. His foot slid out from under him, catching awkwardly on the polished floor. There was a loud bang, a flail, and then—nothing.
Everything went black.
When he opened his eyes, someone was already holding him and saying something, but Jimin didn’t really care—he was too busy staring into big, pretty doe eyes.
"Are you an angel?" he mumbled.
Jungkook, crouched over him, burst out laughing. "Okay, yeah—he’s fine."
Jimin, still dazed but smiling, added, "With those eyes of yours, you do look a little like an angel."
Jungkook grinned, shaking his head. "Don’t flirt while concussed. It’s dangerous."
"Flirting's not such a bad idea. I had a lot of realizations today, you know. Huge ones."
Jungkook raised an eyebrow, amused. "What kind of realizations are we talking about?"
Jimin blinked up at him, still a bit breathless, still tangled in Jungkook’s arms.
"You. Mostly."
Jungkook’s grin faltered for just a second, replaced by something softer. "You sure you’re not concussed?"
"I’m not sure about that," Jimin replied, voice quiet but steady, "but what I do know—exactly—is that I’m in love with you."
"Well, that would be nice, considering unrequited love sucks. And I’ve loved you since I met you."
"You do?" Jimin asked, eyes wide.
Jungkook smiled, soft and a little embarrassed. "Of course. And I win in the angel competition. When I first saw you in preschool, I thought you looked like the cutest cupid. No bow, no wings, but you definitely stole my heart—just took a few years for me to catch up to it. Still way earlier than you, apparently."
Jimin blinked again, lips parting like he was about to say something clever, something flirtatious, maybe even something profound.
What came out instead was: "I can’t believe I hit my head once and now I’m suddenly in a relationship."
"Pfft... If I knew all it took to wake up your feelings was putting on a bit of muscle, I would've done it years ago."
"A bit?! You look like a muscle pig."
"Yup. And it seems like you’re very into it."
"Obviously I have no complaints," Jimin said, grinning—and then kissed him.
________________________________________
That evening, they sat on the edge of the pier behind the dorms, feet dangling just above the dark, rippling water. The night was warm, and the campus had finally quieted down.
Jimin was sitting on Jungkook’s lap, sideways, with half a sandwich in one hand and the other curled lightly around Jungkook’s shoulder.
"You think the guys will be mad we bailed on movie night?" Jimin asked.
"Yoongi might. He lost 50,000₩ betting it would take you at least a week to confess after I got back."
"Oh my god. Is there anyone who didn’t know?"
"Besides you? Not really," Jungkook said, pressing a kiss to Jimin’s cheek.
Jimin paused for a minute, sitting up straighter.
"Jungkook-ah, there’s a seagull eyeing my sandwich," he said, a bit wary, eyes on a suspiciously looking bird next to them.
"Well, hide then, baby. Your boyfriend will fight for you now," Jungkook said, flexing his arms.
Jimin patted his biceps with theatrical flair. "Darling, just show it the bazoongas. It’ll fly away in fear."