Chapter Text
Jeon Jeongguk has never been good with emotions.
He’s mature enough to admit that. Or, at least, mature enough to accept it, once it becomes painfully clear, way too late in his life. Recognizing his feelings, examining them critically, acting upon them rationally; it’s all kind of a foreign concept to him. Something about being raised as the youngest boy in the family, probably, coddled all his life.
And it wouldn’t be too much of a problem, really– who needs emotional intelligence, anyways?– if not for one simple blunder.
Jeongguk realizes what love feels like for the first time not thanks to his boyfriend.
But thanks to his boyfriend’s best friend.
Hindsight is 20/20, but most people would have probably seen the red flags of Jeongguk and Taehyung’s relationship all the way back from the start.
They were the two most popular boys in school, and they became friends out of convenience, rather than any real connection. When everyone wanted to be with them or be them, Taehyung and Jeongguk united, bringing each other’s statuses even higher, and raking in the rewards. The rewards being admiration and fame in their high school district. But that’s fine. Everyone starts somewhere.
The only downfall to being messiahs of the local social hierarchy was what it always is: Rumors.
Specifically, the kind that turn jealous whispers from enamoured fantasies of dating either one of them, into fantasies of them dating each other.
And in their senior year– they fall for the propaganda.
“Should we… actually be dating?” A half-hearted question.
“Yeah, kinda feels like we should.” A half-hearted shrug.
They’d already made plans to attend the same college, out of convenience more than anything else, just like they did everything else since they met. Went to the same parties. Played the same sports. Just gliding through life as if on a lazy river, picking the path of least resistance.
Hell, Jeongguk hadn’t even wanted to be the ‘popular kid’. He’d been completely content to stay the nerd he was in middle school, but other people had different plans for him.
And sure, maybe he assumed his first real relationship would be with someone who truly understands him, and with whom he could discuss more than just sex, parties and alcohol. But Taehyung asks, and there’s no good reason to say no, so Jeongguk says yes.
Two sentences. It doesn’t take longer than that. With a kiss to seal the deal, it’s confirmed. They’re boyfriends. And the first domino has been pushed.
Jeongguk doesn’t know if he ever expected it to last long. Or if he’d thought that Taehyung would fall for the first pretty guy or girl he saw on campus and they’d go back to being just friends. But a full two years later, and they’re still going strong.
Steady. ‘Strong’ is not the right word. They’re going steady.
And Jeongguk doesn’t overthink it. He doesn’t think in general, really, especially not about the grand questions such as his future. His life is fine as it is right now. There are no problems.
Well, except the normal college student kind. And the fact that sometimes, it all piles up to create one very, very shitty day.
His alarm fails to work, making him late to class. His phone isn’t fully charged, meaning he can’t listen to music during his commute. A classmate acts unnecessarily rude, flaring up nervous anxiety under Jeongguk’s ribcage, unshakeable for the rest of the day.
And to top it all off: Taehyung texts him.
He shouldn’t, he knows he shouldn’t, but Jeongguk groans out loud seeing the notification pop up on his phone. It’s a reminder that he’s supposed to come over later today, a complete blow to Jeongguk’s hope of face planting into his own bed and passing out until tomorrow noon at the least.
Instead, he has to go to Taehyung’s place.
Someone more observant than him would have considered that a red flag, too. The fact that they live separately. But it’s not that bad, really. They both like their freedom and value their privacy, and besides, distance makes the heart grow fonder, does it not? A change of scenery every once in a while is good for the soul. Brings enrichment.
They have twice the real estate between them, if you do the math. Although it’s mostly Taehyung’s apartment that they spend time in.
Jeongguk turns on his heel and switches directions. At least he will be able to release his pent up frustrations and tire them both out before sleep, if everything goes to plan.
It doesn't. Of course. He should really stop expecting good things to happen to him.
He enters with his own spare key, very casually, and starts making himself at home. He’s about to call out, make himself known, when Taehyung beats him to it.
“Kookie!” is the exclamation that accompanies the arm swinging around Jeongguk’s shoulders, knocking the air out of him. “Come, come.”
Jeongguk frowns. Taehyung is leading him to the living room. He doesn’t usually do that. Does he have a new TV he wants to show off or something?
It turns out to be a little more than a TV.
“Jeongguk,” Taehyung gestures to the room at large, and specifically the person standing in the middle of it. A boy. “This is Jimin. I told you about Jimin, right?”
Another groan threatens to overtake Jeongguk. He has to shut his eyes for a few seconds, staving off the moment where he has to face reality for a little while longer. He was not at all prepared to be sociable with a stranger today.
Yes, he does vaguely remember Taehyung mentioning something like this. His friend who would be moving up to Seoul and enrolling in their college soon. But they’d either been drunk at the time, or otherwise distracted, so you can’t blame him for letting the knowledge go in one ear and out the other.
His manners are usually better than this, though. He can usually adequately fake having a full social battery, especially when it comes to Taehyung’s friends. But he really, really doesn’t have the willpower to do so now.
He’s too annoyed with life in general, and a novelty in the form of a whole new person is too much for Jeongguk, who loves his routines and order and doesn’t like any change, ever. He’s irritable and exhausted and preoccupied with the fact that his hopes of getting a simple blowjob and dinner are ruined– and something about Jimin’s presence sets him off immediately.
When he finally opens his eyes, scanning Jimin up and down suspiciously, he’s taken aback by the force with which something uncomfortable pierces his chest.
He wants to be standoffish, borderline annoyed. Scare the new guy off a little bit.
But it’s like looking into the sun.
Bright. Way too fucking bright for Jeongguk’s liking. It’s not anything physical, like sweat or makeup would shine under the fluorescent lights of a nightclub. But it's like everything around him dims, fading away into a blur, commanding attention. It’s unsettling.
His hair is a golden blond, fitting him like it might as well be natural, and he bows in greeting with all the posture of a prince. Not in a conceited way, but in a way that looks unfairly dignified and royal for the simple baggy pants and shirt he’s wearing. For some reason, he appears a shade more vibrant than everything around him.
The smile on his face is too much– too amicable, too toothy, too sweet, and it makes the apples of his cheeks bunch up and his eyes squint into little crescent moons that seem too something– and Jeongguk has to look away.
He would like Jimin to leave. Now.
Of course, he is of no such luck. He barely manages to force out a nod and a weak “Hello,” before Taehyung drops the bomb.
“Actually, Kookie, Jimin needed a place to stay, so I offered him the spare room. He’ll be here for a few months, how great is that?”
Oh.
Huh.
“It’ll work out perfect. There’ll be enough time to catch up, and we’ll have so much fun. I’m talking endless slumber parties, movie nights, braiding each other’s hair– oh, I can’t wait.”
The speech seems to not have been directed at Jeongguk at all, seeing as Taehyung abandons him and rushes straight to Jimin’s side, cuddling up to him and mumbling something about never separating ever ever again now that they finally have each other.
Jeongguk stands there, in complete stupefaction.
It’s not the weird closeness they have going on: he doesn’t really care if Taehyung is excited to be with his long-distance best friend in real life for the first time. No, it’s the fact that Taehyung let his boyfriend rot away in the shitty dorms, never even offering the completely functional spare room he had laying empty. A whole spare room, for a single college student, currently taking up space as a gamer’s heaven with two computer setups.
He gets that it’s Taehyung’s place, and Taehyung’s decision, and Jeongguk isn’t so spoiled that he thinks he is entitled to reside there– hell, would have said no, if offered– but it wouldn't have killed Taehyung to be polite and ask.
They discussed living together, when they were applying. But then a rich aunt of Taehyung’s popped up and offered him an apartment to stay in, and what was Taehyung supposed to do, say no?
Jeongguk always thought the aunt in question was the reason the invitation was never extended to him. Maybe she didn’t want her teenage nephew shacking up with another boy. He was willing to accept that explanation.
But apparently not. Apparently, the spare room was up for grabs and more than ready to accommodate someone Taehyung has only ever known through text messages and phone calls. Albeit, for the majority of their lives, but still.
Jeongguk is pissed.
Not because of Jimin. But because he doesn’t like change. And Taehyung knows that. At the very least, he could have given Jeongguk a heads up. Because this will change everything. Their dynamic, their schedules, their dates, their every interaction. No longer will they have the freedom of this apartment. Will Taehyung want to spend the night cramped in Jeongguk’s tiny bed, just because Jeongguk doesn’t want to be here while Jimin is? Probably not.
It’s all too much, too quick. Jeongguk doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like it.
Jimin seems to notice his bad mood, because he smartly chooses to stay silent. He hasn’t spoken a word since Jeongguk got here, actually. He just pets Taehyung’s hair, eyes piercing Jeongguk, contemplative. Jeongguk can see his bags stacked against the far wall. Fucking great. So he’s really here to stay, then.
Memories surface, as Jeongguk stands there stewing– all the times Taehyung has talked about Jimin. His “childhood best friend” from Busan, his platonic soulmate, whom he missed terribly and couldn't wait to see once in college. The concept of him has always existed, as an abstraction. Now that he’s here, Jeongguk isn’t sure how to cope.
To start off, it’s weird that Jimin transferred school in the middle of the semester. Taehyung spoke about it, surely, but Jeongguk wasn’t listening. As per usual.
He realizes his mistake now. He should have given himself time to prepare for Jimin’s presence. It’s too much to deal with, all at once.
Jeongguk doesn’t like him, he decides. He doesn’t like the look of him. Jimin’s features are almost inhuman, like they belong on a high-fashion runway, or a fantasy movie, not their decrepit old college campus. Does he use make-up? It’s distractingly eye-catching. There’s no way he looks like that naturally.
There’s a feeling bubbling up inside Jeongguk. A feeling that he does not like, and that he cannot put a name to, seeing as he has never felt it before. But it’s negative. It’s definitely negative. Jimin spells bad news.
Jeongguk’s not looking forward to finding out just how right he is.
He makes his excuses to leave the apartment shortly after that, a dark cloud over his head and blue balls shamefully persistent. He ends up going to sleep unsatisfied.
At least, he thinks, he won't have to see Jimin again anytime soon.
Until he's getting coffee the next morning and an unfamiliar laugh chimes its way into his ear. He turns sharply, the sound so out of place in his daily routine that it throws him completely off-tact.
He should have known it was too good to be true.
Jimin is there in the flesh, at a table with a bunch of people who seem like his friends. Jeongguk would wonder when he had the time to meet so many people, but he's too busy angling his face out of view. He doesn't want to be noticed. God forbid.
It's his favorite coffee shop. Their drinks are good, but more importantly, they’re always quick.
Not quick enough. Not today.
Jeongguk is standing in line when he feels a tap on the shoulder. He freezes, stomach sinking as he gets a feeling for the worst. A feeling which, unfortunately, turns out to be true.
“Hi!” Jimin practically shouts in his face. Way too cheery for the ass crack of dawn (9am). Way too cheery for Jeongguk’s grumpy disposition.
His teeth are all pearly white and blinding Jeongguk. One of them is crooked.
“We didn’t get to talk much yesterday– I’m Jimin, Taehyung’s friend?”
Jeongguk finds it hard to say anything in response. In any other situation, it would be practically on autopilot. He perfected small talk a long time ago. Hi, yes, of course. Nice weather we’re having.
But in this case, his whole nervous system shuts down. It’s not that he purposefully refuses to say anything– he doesn’t know how. His tongue feels all twisted up. Inert. Moving his jaw feels like it would be a Herculean effort right now. Not to mention actually forming a full sentence.
Instead, he just grunts. Like a caveman. Like he was raised in a barn.
“Um,” Jimin blinks, obviously unsure how to deal. But he tries again. “Look, I’m just catching up with some friends from Busan– turns out we went to the same middle school together, long story– but you can join us, if you need a place to sit?”
It’s an olive branch if Jeongguk ever saw one. It’s a perfectly nice thing for Jimin to offer. But Jeongguk feels put off by it. Ulterior motive?
It’s hard to look at Jimin head-on. Jeongguk’s body is reacting as it would to a bad allergy. And who’s he to question his sixth sense?
“Class,” he mutters, picking up his (finally completed) order and moving past Jimin swiftly. He almost shoulders him on the way. But he’s not that rude.
He is rude enough to ignore Jimin’s wave goodbye. He’ll claim poor hearing, if ever questioned. But he needed to get out of there, stat. For the sake of his health.
He might have to find a new place to get his coffee now.
Jeongguk hopes to have some peace in class. Which might be the first time a college student has ever expressed that sentiment. There's no way Jimin and him would have shared courses, right?
Well, wrong again, because who does Jeongguk see a few rows ahead in math, if not Jimin. He's not even sure how he manages to recognize the boy by only the back of his hair, but he does. It's awfully obvious.
Jimin doesn't seem to have any trouble at all following along, despite being a latecomer. A normal human would fumble on their first day, searching for the right page in the textbook, asking someone for a pen, but Jimin blends in like a polar bear in snow. A girl even asks him for help with an equation. Him!?
How the hell does he already seem to have a well-established social and academic life despite only moving here a few days ago, when Jeongguk pretty much stops existing in people's minds when he's not next to Taehyung? It's excruciating.
And to top off Jeongguk’s very bad, no good, nightmare hellscape of a day, Jimin encroaches on the one place Jeongguk thought he could keep as a sanctuary.
When he walks into dance practice, ready to sweat out his frustration, who should he see but Jimin, looking way too relaxed, laughing with the teacher like they're old friends.
Every single cell in Jeongguk’s body bristles, and it takes all the self-control he has not to start cursing out loud.
He can't say the same about his facial expressions, though. When Jimin sees him he visibly flinches back– Jeongguk’s not sure, but it might be the frown creasing his eyebrows. Or the death glare. Seriously, he'll blame any and all premature wrinkles he gets on Jimin. For ruining his life.
He’s never been called a drama queen before. But it’s never too late to incorporate new personality traits. Desperate times call for desperate measures, or however the saying goes.
Once the room fills up, the teacher (finally) peels off of Jimin, and claps to get everyone's attention.
“My dears. I am thrilled to announce the arrival of a new member to our class. None other than Park Jimin,” she gestures to an uncomfortably smiling Jimin, “who transferred here after a year of studying dance in London. On a scholarship.”
Okay, well, Jeongguk wasn't aware of that particular fact. Not that it matters– when gasps fill the room, Jeongguk’s is not one of them. He just scoffs bitterly, watching as his classmates descend onto Jimin like flies. Wanting to know more, demanding to see his skills, wondering what it’s like abroad. Pathetic.
As if Jimin is so special. Jeongguk can dance too! It’s not that hard! He’s good at it. He’s probably better than Jimin, even. He had scholarship offers too, back in high school, but his parents were too scared to send him off alone. In the end, everyone in this room will graduate with the same degree. So who cares?
Jimin blushes while answering all the questions, shy under the attention, and cowers down until the professor swoops in and saves him.
“Alright, alright. Let's show Jimin what we've got, alright? Jimin, dear, you can watch for now, and I'll expect you to join in starting next week.”
Jimin nods. He observes from the sidelines run-throughs of their most recent routine, and it’s obvious he’s drinking up everything they’re doing with rapt attention.
Jeongguk hates it. Even if Jimin weren't watching, he's so pent up from this whole day that he doesn't even manage to dance properly. He goes through the motions bleakly, out of spite, but his heart is not in it. His focus is all over the place.
By the time they're dismissed, all he wants to do is go home and sleep everything off. Maybe tomorrow he'll wake up as a new person and be completely ready to accept a new person following him everywhere he goes. His boyfriend’s best friend.
He slinks away to the changing room, muttering under his breath. Stupid Jimin. Acting like he’s so special.
Jimin likes the attention. Jeongguk can tell. Even if he downplays his achievements like a goody-two-shoes– Annoying. Jimin is annoying.
Jeongguk repeats it like a mantra in his head. Annoying. Sitting in the locker room and stewing in his irritation, he thinks about how annoying Jimin’s mere presence is. Everything he does. The way his cheeks reddened, plump and supple as he flailed around in embarrassment at his video being played. Cute. No, wait. Annoying. Irritating.
In his angry musings, Jeongguk doesn’t even notice the locker room emptying out around him. He just notices when all of a sudden he’s alone, the silence in the building eerie.
This might as well happen, he supposes. Just another day in the life of Jeon Jeongguk. No point in getting upset about it.
He gets up with a heavy sigh, hauling his backpack over his shoulder like he’s carrying rocks. Jimin’s been in his life for less than a day, and for the entirety of that day Jeongguk has felt like a character in Greek mythology, suffering some cosmic punishment. Hence, Jimin must be evil.
Except.
Jeongguk sees him, on his way out.
As he passes the practice rooms, all quiet with the lights turned off, one stands out, at the end of the hallway. Through the glass pane on the door, movement catches Jeongguk’s eye in the dead stillness of the almost-night.
At first he thinks it’s just Hoseok, the most notorious over-achiever in the department. But Hoseok doesn’t have that golden blond hair, nor does he move with so much elegance, like a leaf blowing on a gust of wind. Jeongguk averts his eyes with shame, before snapping them back up.
Jimin is dancing to their choreography. The one he saw only a handful of times today, before the professor sent them all home. Including him. He should have been long gone. He’s probably exhausted, too, first day back in school after a cross-continent move.
And yet, Jeongguk sees him running through the dance, filling in whatever parts he doesn’t remember with freestyle that, honestly, isn't half-bad. Might even be better than what they have currently. Even though he doesn’t have all the steps down quite yet, and stutters occasionally, trying out different moves until he finds one that fits, his dancing is just…
No. No, Jeon Jeongguk, you will not fall into this man’s trap. He is not that good. Just a quick learner. That's not unique! Jimin is not special at all. Not captivating at all.
Jeongguk doesn’t stand there and watch him for so long it becomes creepy.
Not at all.
The rest of the week is spent in a constant state of tension for Jeongguk. From the very next day, like a particularly insistent mirage, he can't stop seeing Jimin. Anywhere and everywhere he goes. And it never stops being traumatizing.
He feels as if all his muscles are seized up, walking on needles around campus, saying a little prayer before entering each room, just hoping Jimin won't be in there. He only relaxes once he’s back home at the end of the day, with absolutely no chance of running into the menace.
Even meeting Taehyung, something that at least used to bring him comfort and familiarity in the hectic grind of college life, is now tainted with the knowledge that Jimin is nearby. If not physically, then verbally, as it seems that every other sentence out of Taehyung’s mouth has to involve him somehow.
But he doesn't need to be seen, nor heard, for Jeongguk to feel his presence. It's already all over Taehyung’s apartment, bits and pieces showing up one by one, slowly taking over the place. Like mold.
Even Jeongguk’s toothbrush, the one thing he needed to keep there that he couldn’t just borrow from Taehyung, was thrown out for the sake of ‘space’. Because Jimin’s purple shampoo and cases of eye contacts had to be stored somewhere. Apparently.
Even his scent permeates the apartment. As if attacking the rest of Jeongguk's senses wasn't enough. The apartment is soaked in it, something sweet and summery, clinging to every surface. Taehyung claims not to smell anything, but it makes Jeongguk sick.
And the worst part: Jeongguk is about to lose the last bit of peace he was clinging to. The fact that, so far, he has managed to avoid ever interacting with Jimin directly.
It's all brought down in one fell swoop by Taehyung, who suggests they all ‘hang out’.
“It’ll be fun!” he says. “My two best friends, finally together. I just know you will get along.”
Jeongguk doubts it.
He doesn’t even have the strength to complain, or argue, or try and think of an excuse to get out of it, because more than annoyance, he feels pain. It pains him to think he will have to spend time with Jimin. Pretending to be civil.
So, Taehyung gets his way. A week or two later, they go out to the arcade together.
It’s a nice, neutral option. Jeongguk rejects everything else Taehyung suggests– No, they cannot ‘just chill’. Jeongguk is too awkward for that, and conversation would die down within 15 minutes. He needs the buffer of bright lights and flashing screens and music that makes it borderline impossible to hear human speech if he's going to survive this. That’s the perfect solution.
When Jeongguk shows up, Taehyung and Jimin are already there, already two rounds deep into air hockey. They’re both too distracted to greet him with anything more than perfunctory ‘Hello’s, which suits Jeongguk just fine. He’s more than happy to observe.
Jimin is wearing a green puffer jacket, sleeves pulled up around his forearms for ease of access. A pair of long earrings dangles from his ears, hitting his jawline as he moves to hit the puck. The light from the table casts a glow on his face that Jeongguk, for some reason, can't look away from.
“Oh my God, you suck,” Taehyung says as he scores his fifth point in a row, a cheshire cat grin on his face.
Jimin’s responding smile is much more subdued.
Taehyung’s right, though. It’s easy to tell Jimin is outmatched by the scoreboard alone, but after a few minutes of spectating, Jeongguk can confirm. Jimin… isn't the greatest talent. He only scores a couple of times through skill. The rest of the time, he gets lucky, each time breathing a sigh of relief.
“I was just warming up so far, you hear me?” He points at Taehyung, in what might be an attempt to be threatening. “Watch out, I’m winning this round. That’s a promise.”
But each round, he continues failing. Spectacularly.
When they move on to the rest of the machines, that continues to be a theme. The three of them walk around, chatting, but no matter which game it is, no matter who he plays against, absolutely none of them seem to be suited for Jimin.
He has trouble figuring out the shooting games. His character always dies first, without getting a single hit in, and he resigns to watching Taehyung and Jeongguk play while he complains about ‘violence’ and ‘impossible hitboxes’.
The racing games give him trouble too. He protests, saying that he got his driving license most recently, hence he has less experience, hence they should go easy on him, but they don't. They leave him behind in the dust.
Even Dance Dance Revolution, a dancing game, something he should be good at, proves difficult. To be fair, Taehyung isn't a prodigy at it either, but Jeongguk, oh, Jeongguk dominates.
He shows off, putting to use all experience from when he used to play as a kid, and he revels in crushing Jimin. They play a few rounds side-by-side, and the difference in their scores at the end is straight-up laughable.
Jimin is pathetic, really. How can one man be so bad at everything? Every single thing? Jeongguk gets a sick sense of satisfaction from it, from watching him fail, taking it as payback for all the annoyance he has felt due to him.
Except… Except that gloating quickly turns into something else.
Jimin remains disgustingly optimistic, throughout most of the afternoon. He never stops smiling, never complains– not seriously, at least, and he never loses hope that the next machine they stop at will be the one he will finally win. His perseverance is, in an annoying way, admirable.
But as the hours pass, Jeongguk watches it slowly fizzle out. Jimin’s smile fades, his voice loses its spark, and by the time they decide to wrap it up for the day, all he can offer is a self-deprecating ‘joke’:
“Ah, lucky you. Guess I won't have enough tickets to buy that toy, after all.”
God Damn it.
Taehyung doesn’t react, besides gloating some more, flaunting his armful of tickets. But Jeongguk… Jeongguk looks at Jimin, and the stack in his own hands, and he can’t not forcefully shove all of them at Jimin, claiming indifference.
“Whatever. It’s all stupid overpriced plastic, anyways. Who’d want children’s toys?”
Disregarding the fact that he would, and that rainbow Hello Kitty was looking mighty cute when they passed by it earlier. But who cares. None of it really matters.
“I’m going to the food court to spend real money. Meet me there.”
He doesn’t stick around for long enough to see the grateful, borderline teary look Jimin gives him. This outing was such a bust. Not only did he and Jimin not grow any closer, but he's now even more annoyed with the other man's existence. And his ineptness. God, how is he walking around like that all on his own? Just ditzing around all over the place, with no one to protect him? It’s crazy. It drives Jeongguk nuts.
Especially when Jimin turns up with Taehyung and their prizes, and it turns out he did not buy a plushie at all. No. He spent everything he had on two packs of gummy bears. One for him, and one for Jeongguk, given wordlessly as a sign of thanks.
Stupid. Economically unwise. Overly sentimental. Annoying.
Jeongguk grits his teeth, and then grips the bag in his pocket all the way home, crushing everything to mush. Fucking fuck Park Jimin to hell. Fuck him.
He's never had an arch nemesis before.
It’s a weird experience, knowing there’s a guy out there who, for no concrete reason, will ruin your whole day if you so much as cross paths.
Not that Jeongguk needs a reason, or a way to justify himself to anyone. Jimin’s vibe simply raises his shackles. That first impression did a number on him, and it only grew worse over time. He doubts there’s anything either of them could do to fix it now.
Jimin might have tried. In fact, in the beginning, he’s friendly, cordial as a normal person might be to their best friend’s boyfriend. There was no animosity from his side, the way there was from Jeongguk’s.
But a couple of ignored greetings, a couple dirty looks, and it seems to click that Jeongguk wants absolutely nothing to do with him. So he gives up. Permanently.
It feels good, actually, when they run into each other on campus, seeing his eyes light up in recognition, and then watching that light die out as he remembers: Jeongguk isn’t interested.
He looks like a little kicked puppy. Wondering if there was something he did wrong, to make Jeongguk mad at him. But why should Jeongguk care? He doesn't have to explain himself. It's of no importance to him what Jimin feels or doesn't feel. He hates him.
… No.
No, he doesn’t, actually.
‘Hate’ is too strong of a word. Jeongguk is a lot of things, but evil he is not, and he firmly holds the belief that ‘hatred’ should be reserved for, like, the actual villains of the world, oil moguls and billionaires and hannams. And his photography professor. He’s bad with feelings, sure, but he knows that much.
He dislikes Park Jimin. That’s a good word. Dislike.
It's not because Jimin is a bad person, certainly. Far from it, in fact.
At times, Jeongguk finds himself thinking that Jimin is too good. There’s simply no way someone could be that kind without any ulterior motives. No one just does good deeds out of the goodness of their own heart like they’re Mother Theresa. This is real life, not a movie.
Maybe that’s why Jeongguk’s subconscious raises alarm bells. A person without flaws is simply suspicious. It’s not natural.
So, he observes. And he finds cracks in that persona.
When a student asks Jimin for help on the same piece of choreography for the twentieth time, Jeongguk notices the deep, frustrated inhale he takes before walking over with a benevolent smile, as patient and understanding as the first time.
When the barista at the coffee shop they both, unfortunately, frequent every morning, spills Jimin’s order on him, Jeongguk watches the anger flash over Jimin’s face before he composes himself and tells the barista not to worry about it. He walks around in the stained sweater all day, until one of his friends notices and brings him a new shirt. Only then does Jeongguk relax.
When a professor too old and too limited to be working at their liberal arts college makes an uncouth comment about a girl with short-cropped hair in one of their classes, Jeongguk sees Jimin’s fist shaking with the grip it has on his pencil, before he decides ‘fuck it’ and speaks up to defend her in front of everyone. It will get him a write-up, and probably a grade knocked down, which he can’t be happy about, but still Jimin doesn’t back down. Jeongguk sees the girl give him a grateful look, and he understands, somehow.
Jimin isn’t the way he is because he’s some supernatural being too holy for negative emotions.
Jimin is kind because he wants to be. Because he actively makes an effort to be.
Jimin tries. He’s not perfect, he’s not flawless, but he tries to be a force of good in the world.
It’s as admirable as it is infuriating.
But… Unfortunately, it is not a legitimate reason for Jeongguk to dislike him. So when he catches Jimin one night, standing in the doorway of their university’s dance wing, the first dribbles of rain just starting to pour, he pauses.
“Are you going back to Taehyung’s place?”
Jimin looks at him, surprise on his face, like he wasn’t expecting anyone to still be here. Or for anyone to talk to him. Or for Jeongguk to talk to him. This might be the first time that's happened.
He looks otherworldly, Jeongguk acknowledges in the back of his mind. Night lights dancing off the highest point of his rosy cheekbones, sweaty hair pushed back and falling like he’d spent hours styling it, crooked front tooth worrying his bottom lip as he looks Jeongguk up and down.
“… Yeah?” he answers, glancing outside like it’s a stupid question. It probably is. “Where else would I be going?”
“No– I mean–” Jeongguk shakes his head. Fuck. He’s trying, but it’s hard when they’ve barely spoken two words to each other, mostly thanks to his own efforts. It's excruciatingly awkward. He doesn't know what compels him to keep speaking. “I can walk you there. Taehyung wasn't expecting me, but who cares.”
“It’s not that far,” Jimin offers with some hesitation. And he’s right. It’s not. It’s a brisk fifteen minute walk that Jeongguk knows from experience does wonders for a cooldown after a dance session. Under normal conditions.
“It is when you’re barefoot,” he fires back. They both look down at where Jimin’s toes are wiggling against the hardwood floor. They stop at the attention.
In the locker room, earlier, Jeongguk overheard the whole thing.
A freshman claimed he forgot his shoes. But the more likely story, some bullies stole them right out of his bag. They practice without shoes, so he didn't have a spare pair, and Jimin, ever the angel, offered up his own pair with little to no hesitation.
It seems he came to the same conclusion Jeongguk did. About the reason the shoes were missing. He can practically see it in Jimin’s eyes, the resolve to take action and change things. Those bullies won't know what hit them.
It was a selfless thing to do. The freshman looked at Jimin like he was an actual saint descended from the heavens, promising to bring the shoes back and repay him first thing tomorrow. Jimin just grumbled, sending him on his way.
Jeongguk kind of thinks the kid took advantage of Jimin. The polite thing to do would’ve been to say No. But who’s he to comment? He is just a silent observer.
And now, a good samaritan.
Jimin sighs. “You walking me home isn’t going to change me being barefoot.”
“I can carry you,” is out of Jeongguk’s mouth before he can think better of it.
Shit. Fuck. What in the goddamn hell made him say that? So far he has successfully avoided touching Jimin even for a handshake, and now he’s offering to carry him? For fifteen minutes?
Sure, the thought of Jimin suffering, barefoot, on the cold wet pavement, possibly getting injured along the way, is extremely uncomfortable for Jeongguk, but he could have suggested something else. A taxi? Running home to get him another pair of shoes? Hell, even two plastic bags as a makeshift solution would’ve been acceptable.
Jimin eyes him, like he can tell Jeongguk doesn’t really mean his offer, and like he's about to do what that freshman should have done and refuse.
That’s when Jeongguk’s oppositional defiance kicks in. He will not lose to Jimin in this ‘random acts of kindness’ war. He stands on his words.
“I, I mean– you weigh, what, 50kg? I bench press double that.” He rubs the back of his neck. “And I had to skip the gym today anyway because I woke up late, and I know the path there, and you know I’m not some creep or an axe murderer and–’’
“Okay, okay, alright,” Jimin stops him with a puff of laughter. “Don’t have to work so hard to convince me. If you’re sure, sure. But we take breaks. And I’ll owe you.”
“Please,” Jeongguk scoffs, turning around and bending his knees slightly, trying to brush it off as not a big deal. “I think Taehyung would actually break up with me if I let his soulmate get drenched in the rain.”
He tries not to shudder at the feeling of Jimin’s slender arms around his neck; the lithe body pressing its full length against his back. A warm puff of air hits his neck– Jimin’s soft, fluttery giggle, which most definitely does not raise goosebumps on his skin.
Right.
“I'll be sure to tell him to reward you plenty.”
Jeongguk’s hands find firm, thick thighs, wrapped around his waist. And he was right. Jimin weighs practically nothing. The hardest part of this trip will be suffering through conversation with him.
Because Jeongguk dislikes Jimin.
And he’s only helping him because of Taehyung.
Nothing more.
It might be the way Jimin laughs.
The reason for Jeongguk’s dislike, that is. Because the first time he hears the sound, he feels an indescribable, overwhelming urge to punch something.
It’s not quite Seokjin’s windshield wiper laugh, but it’s still extremely irritating. High pitched, squeaky, like windchimes, or a rubber duck being squeezed. Grating down to his very soul.
Not only that. He flings his whole body into it, whenever he laughs. He flails around, drawing attention to himself, falling head-first into the closest lap he can find, and it’s impossible to ignore.
Whether they’re watching a movie, thanks to Taehyung’s incessant insistence, or in the coffee shop Jeongguk is coming to resent, or even in class, sometimes– Inevitably, the faint ringing of Jimin’s laughter will make its way into Jeongguk’s ears, and it’s… annoying. It annoys him so much. He gets second-hand embarrassment, even if he is not directly involved in the antics.
Except. This one time.
Taehyung forces them, once again, to spend time together. This time it's for a local band he wants to see, and he threatens them both into going with him. Well, he threatens Jeongguk, because Jimin agrees immediately, and Jeongguk starts throwing around excuses, but Taehyung thwarts each and every single one of them.
It's not… terrible. The venue is tiny and damp, the acoustics are shit, the band can't play, and the crowd is filled with a bunch of posers, but somehow, still, Jeongguk finds himself… enjoying it.
The drinks probably have something to do with it.
Jeongguk and Jimin dance around a weird dual-sided conversation with Taehyung as the meditator, never really addressing each other directly. But it's not uncomfortable. The music and the vibe provide a good buffer, so he's not actively considering suicide.
They decide to call it a night when Taehyung, the light-weight, starts looking like he will topple over any second.
The walk home is weird. It's like one of those liminal moments, suspended in time, where you feel something shifting but you're not quite sure what yet. They shuffle, pressed together, on the empty street, hoping the fresh air will sober them up a little bit.
Words spill out of Taehyung’s mouth like it's a broken faucet. Jeongguk is half tuning him out– the stars in the sky are more interesting.
“I wish I was a bird,” he laments. “I would have super cool wings and have that thing on my neck to attract all the lady birds and I would be free as a… bird. Bird. That’s a weird word. Word. That rhymes.”
“Is the thing on their necks even a sex thing?” Jimin giggles breathily.
“It’s probably a sex thing,” Taehyung nods smartly.
“Let’s Google it.”
So, they do. And that turns out to be a mistake. Because Taehyung is the one who pulls out his phone and, squinting against the brightness and certainly fighting off the beer-goggles blurriness, reads off the first sentence of the search result for ‘bird neck thing’.
“A wattle. A wattle is a fleshy caruncle. Caruncles in birds include wattles, dewlaps, snoods–”
It's not funny. Really, it’s just a fact of science. It would be inappropriate to laugh. Uncouth. Jeongguk is much too dignified to laugh at such low-brow non-humor.
Jimin, however, doesn't have the same qualms.
He bursts out in a guffaw at the mere hilarity of that sentence, loud and striking in the middle of the empty street. A wattle is a fleshy caruncle.
And Jeongguk, for the life of him he doesn’t know what overtakes him. Whether it’s the pleasant buzz of alcohol coursing through his veins, or the atmosphere of the warm night enveloping them, but–
He joins in.
He hears that laugh, the exact same one that made him roll his eyes and shudder in horror so many times before, and he follows with his own like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Jimin stops in his tracks– a little hiccup, wondrous– it’s probably the first time he’s seen Jeongguk even smile in his presence. But then they’re laughing together, louder than before, a discordant harmony, loud and breathless and carefree, to the point where Taehyung complains about them leaving him out. He’s too drunk to realize what they’re even laughing about.
Jeongguk can't bring himself to care. Jimin looks at him with these wonderful, teary, moon-shaped eyes, and the column of his neck bared where his head is thrown back, and Jungkook, for some nebulous reason, finds himself actually enjoying it. Enjoying Park Jimin’s presence. Just for that one moment. For that one joke.
So, no. Turns out Jeongguk doesn’t dislike Jimin because of his laugh either.
Jeongguk thinks he dislikes the way Jimin seems too confident at times.
He's nothing but bashful when accepting compliments. And he refuses to overtly brag about his achievements, even with the medals and trophies there for everyone to see. And he’s not loud and proud about it the way that would have been much easier for Jeongguk to hate.
But he walks with a self-assuredness Jeongguk’s never seen before. And it catches him off guard.
Jimin doesn’t let anyone bring him down. He doesn’t take shit from anyone, knows his worth and stands his ground. In a way that's honestly refreshing.
At that gig– when Taehyung got too drunk, told that joke, so on and so forth– some guys had started messing with them. Sleazy, old geezers who wanted Jimin’s attention.
“Hey, pretty boy. Looking for company?”
Jeongguk freezes. The men enter their space, obviously unconcerned with the presence of him and Taehyung. They slam their hands down on the table, effectively cornering Jimin, and Jeongguk feels his anxiety flaring up.
Jimin doesn't even look up from his drink.
“I'm good, thanks.”
The sleazebags laugh.
“No, I don't think you heard us. You want to come get a drink.”
“I really don't.”
They get flustered. Jeongguk can tell. The bigger guy’s fist curls up, like he's about to start throwing punches.
“Think you're too good for us? Huh, you little–”
“Jimin–”
“No.”
Jimin stands up, very gracefully, still not looking up to meet the eyes of his aggressors.
“I said ‘no’ once, and I will not say it again. You have three seconds to get lost. Don't make me start counting.”
At that moment, he hits them with a glare.
From his vantage point, Jeongguk’s not really sure what they find there. But he knows that they say nothing.
They get lost.
Jimin sits back down, completely nonchalantly.
“Um–” Jeongguk starts, but Jimin waves him off.
“It's whatever. Don't worry about it. I know how to deal with guys like them.”
Yeah, Jeongguk thinks. He clearly does.
That same cold indifference is delivered in a much softer way, a week or so later, when Jeongguk walks in on Jimin getting confessed to by a classmate.
He doesn't mean to. He forgot his jacket in the classroom, and went back to get it, not expecting anyone to be there, but his steps halt when he notices the two figures. They don't notice him.
“Jimin-sunbaenim,” he hears the girl say, pink envelope and a box of chocolates gripped tightly in her hands. “Please say something.”
Jeongguk holds his breath. It brings back trauma from high school, when he'd had to turn down at least one of these a day. Thankfully, dating Taehyung brought that number down considerably.
“Nayoung-ah,” Jimin’s voice echoes through the room. Soft, but firm. “I'm sorry.”
Behind the door he's using as a cover, Jeongguk cringes. That's a refusal if he ever heard one. Thank god.
Well– no, not ‘thank god’. It's not like it matters to him whether Jimin starts dating someone or not. Maybe he already is and Jeongguk just hasn't been made aware. It makes no sense that he would be hoping for Jimin to turn down this confession right now.
But he does.
“Don't hate oppa, okay? I'm not interested in a relationship with anyone. But you were very brave for having the courage to do this, and I commend you.”
“Oh… O-okay,” Nayoung (?) says, taking a little step back, as if the force of the rejection hit her unexpectedly.
She grips the letter in her hands, crinkling it beyond repair.
Jeongguk always used to feel bad for the girls. He'd always second-guess and question himself– should he be giving them a chance? Is he missing out? Is it the custom to accept at least one date? No one ever taught him the politics of dating. It'd always eat him up inside, for the rest of the day.
Jimin seems unconcerned with that. No stuttering, no padding, no hesitation. Just a soft, firm refusal. Jeongguk almost envies it.
No. No, he dislikes it. Jimin should show some compassion. He was cold, and mean, and those are traits that Jeongguk finds truly annoying. Yes.
Nayoung almost hits him on her way out. Jeongguk barely moves out of the way in time.
Then he leaves, too. He doesn't want to face Jimin. The jacket can wait.
Jeongguk gets invited to a study session with some classmates. He says yes, because he should really be making more of an effort to make friends– and also, this unit in biology has kind of been beating his ass.
What he doesn't expect, when he shows up to the library, is to find Jimin there.
He gulps. Too late to run?
Jimin, however, doesn't say anything. Just offers him a smile– quick, barely-there quirk of the lips– and continues arranging his supplies on the table.
Well then. Jeongguk will just have to survive this. He can mostly ignore Jimin.
Except he can't .
The second they all settle down in the study room, Jimin silently takes the lead, triaging the situation like an emergency first responder.
He makes them go over the material first, to gauge everyone's current understanding level, and quickly decides on the best course of action. He establishes what they will be covering today and what goals they should each achieve, with an extended solo review plan for afterwards, and he even prepares a mock test for them all to do at the end of the hour.
It's the first time Jeongguk has seen something like this, and it's weird to experience first-hand. Everyone in the group naturally falls into deferring to Jimin as a leader. Even the older students– they look at him with such respect, you'd think Jimin was the TA.
He has this pull to him. When he speaks, people listen intently. They respect his ideas. They respect him. Jeongguk doesn't say anything, but he follows what Jimin says, too. And it works.
Pretty much all of them pass the mock test with flying colors. Even Jeongguk, who'd made peace with flunking bio this year. Something about the atmosphere in the room. It put his brain in exactly the right mode to absorb information.
A shower of praises and compliments rains down upon Jimin. Especially when they regroup after the actual exam. To celebrate.
They meet up outside of the humanities building, and two of the freshmen who were with them descend upon Jimin like baby lion cubs, jumping on him and ruffling his hair, ecstatic.
“No, seriously bro, thank you. I don't know what we would have done without you,” one of them says.
The older students nod along. Comparing their scores has never felt like such a sigh of relief before. A team effort, but facilitated by one person and one person only.
Jimin huffs a little, but Jeongguk can see the pride glowing in the apples of his cheeks, a self-satisfied smile in the progress he'd helped them achieve. He agrees. They wouldn't have done this without him.
“You're welcome,” he says, no pretense of humility, and why should there be? He's good at what he does. And he owns it.
So, Jeongguk is left under a little bit of an impression that Jimin is the icon of self-confidence.
And it’s a bit sucky. Because they're the same age, and yet Jimin is so much more established and mature. Jeongguk feels inadequate on every level.
It’s like Jimin intrinsically knows who he is and what he wants, as a completely self-actualized person and adult, while Jeongguk feels like an imposter in his own life, despite his life not being worthy of ‘impostering’ into at all.
He feels like a child. Parading around in a 20 year old’s body, faking his way through every conversation interaction with other humans, while Jimin does so effortlessly. He is leaps and bounds ahead in life while Jeongguk is stuck in the mud, despite them being in the same grade.
Jimin towers over him in every way but height-wise. So it’s not a surprise that Jeongguk would find him unlikeable.
At least, until something changes his mind.
Once again, Jeongguk is passing through the dance studios, long past midnight. And once again, he sees Jimin in one of the practice rooms, all alone.
He's slumped down, back against the mirror, and something about his posture makes Jeongguk freeze. He looks… Dejected. Depressed. Like Jeongguk’s never seen him before.
He's turning the door knob and walking in before he realizes what he's doing.
Jimin’s head snaps up, then relaxes with an “Oh.”
“Hey,” Jeongguk nods. “‘Sup?”
“Just…” Jimin gestures with a heavy sigh. The bags under his eyes are particularly prominent under the shitty fluorescent lighting. “Trying to get this choreography down.”
“For school?”
“No.”
“Ah.”
As if majoring in dance wasn’t enough, Jimin is also part of a competitive dance crew outside of school. Jeongguk learned this through no effort of his own, of course. He just happened to catch Taehyung talking about it one time. And he found it excessive, on Jimin’s part.
Lately, however, he’s been leaning more and more towards ‘impressive’. What with everything else he’s been learning about Jimin. Though he’d never admit it out loud.
Taking a risk, he crouches down, then plops down so they can sit shoulder to shoulder.
“When is the competition?”
“Next week. I'm just–” he looks like he wants to say something, but seems to think better of it, remembering it's Jeongguk he's talking to. And Jeongguk wouldn't care. He pinches the bridge of his nose, as if staving off a migraine. “Nevermind.”
Jeongguk bites his lip. His first instinct is to protest, to ask for more information, but– is that something Jimin would expect him to do? Would he find it weird? Weirder than his presence already is?
Maybe it would do him some good to do it anyway. Take a page out of Jimin’s book and stand his ground, uncaring of how it makes him look. Maybe he can survive the embarrassment for the sake of doing something selfless for once.
“Is there something wrong?”
The way Jimin’s head snaps up to look at him is nothing short of comical.
“Um. Well, no, not really ‘wrong’. I just have barely had any time to practice and I can't get this stupid choreography down and I– I really want to keep doing this after graduating, but it's all piling up and at this rate– at this rate they're going to kick me off the team and I can't– I can't deal with that possibility right now.”
He’s sort of running out of air by the end of that. Jeongguk thinks for no more than a second.
“Show me.”
“What?” Jimin looks up at him, somehow even more surprised than earlier. And Jeongguk doesn’t blame him.
“Show me the choreography,” he shrugs. “Maybe it’s not as bad as you think. You have a video?”
Jimin nods. Of course he does. He's as serious about monitoring himself as he is about improving.
Just like the day after they first met, when Jimin stayed behind to practice on his own. Not wanting to hold them back, impressing the teacher and everyone else when he came prepped and ready the following class.
Now, he hesitates before letting Jeongguk have his phone to watch the video. It's not about the phone itself, Jeongguk realizes, and he doesn’t take offense.
Letting Jeongguk see him at his most vulnerable– doing a choreography he isn't even confident about, the video evidently filmed just a few minutes ago, judging by his outfit in the thumbnail– it all requires trust. Trust that might not be there between him and Jimin. Hell, for all Jimin knows, Jeongguk will be extremely rude and mean. He hasn’t exactly set a precedent otherwise.
“I’ll be nice,” he promises, half-poking fun at himself. He flexes his hand once more. Jimin, resolve seemingly reached, lets him press play.
The dance is… beautiful. Jeongguk can't say that it's flawless– as a fellow dancer, he can see the tiredness in Jimin’s body, the drag of his muscles. He can pinpoint the areas where he most likely wants to improve. And there’s not much. Only tweaks here and there, the sort of thing only a perfectionist like Jimin would focus on.
But overall? Jimin is far above anyone else Jeongguk has ever watched dance. Far, far above. In a league of his own.
“Right?” Jimin says, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. He doesn’t elaborate, trusting that Jeongguk knows what he meant. He takes the phone back and rewinds the video back a few seconds. “Ah, this one part, it's just–”
“Jimin.”
“I feel so stiff in my own body. I know dancers usually retire young, but I tried to prevent that. I stretch and do warmups and cooldowns and– I was a thousand times better only a few years ago and now I look old and decrepit and–”
“Jimin. Please.”
Jimin stops, teeth clicking shut. He grinds his jaw, muscles flexing in a very visible way. Jeongguk continues.
“When did you say the competition was?”
“Next week.”
“Then I am 100% positive that you will have it down pat by then. I'm willing to bet a lot of money on it, too.”
Jimin rolls his eyes. “I'm not.”
“No, really. Even if you went tomorrow, they'd be impressed. But if you want to perfect it– well, there's really just one part that I thought would look better if– oh whatever, let me show you.”
He jumps up. Jimin looks at him like Jeongguk just announced he would solve world cancer. When he realizes Jeongguk is serious, he stands up, too.
Somehow, they end up working through the choreography together.
Jeongguk doesn't know what he thought Jimin would be like as a student. Perhaps he expected him to be indignant, or prideful, or refuse to take any advice.
But Jimin is like a sponge. He listens attentively, adapts to feedback, and at the end of the day just seems really, really grateful that someone is taking the time to work through this with him.
That's when Jeongguk realizes– He was putting Jimin on too much of a pedestal.
Jimin is human too. He has the same insecurities Jeongguk does, about his dancing and his future. He’s not perfect, and that’s exactly why he tries so hard, whether it be socially or academically. He’s plagued with uncertainty, just like the rest of them, putting one foot in front of the other, doing his best with the resources he was given.
And he knows it. He doesn't have ulterior motives, or an inflated ego. He just is. Taking up his portion of the world and shaping it the only way he knows how. Just like Jeongguk.
They're both just exhausted college kids, on the cusp of adulthood, trying to find their place. Jimin is just a little bit better at putting on the front of maturity. But that’s no cause for jealousy.
It’s the first time Jeongguk not only questions his reasoning behind disliking Jimin, but more importantly… It’s the first time he wonders if there is anything he could do to change it.
Emotions aren't as easy as deciding, though. He knows he will still feel the way he does around Jimin. But even though he can't suddenly stop disliking him, he can vow to try and make it a little less obvious in the future.
If Jimin can suck it up and ignore the tension between them, so can Jeongguk. He's not a child. He can act mature. Sometimes.
Usually, when he picks Taehyung up from the apartment for a date, he ignores Jimin. He goes so far as to stand in another room, if needed.
The day after he helps Jimin with his choreo, however, he makes the first step. He stands behind Jimin on the couch, asks him what he's watching, and it's funny to watch the way Jimin almost jumps out of his skin in shock. Like those cat videos online. Adorable.
Taehyung is ready all too soon, so they're off. But Jeongguk says ‘Bye’ to Jimin, for the first time ever, and gets a little surprised wave back– and it feels monumental.
After that first step, he takes another. And another.
He nods in acknowledgement when their eyes meet in class. He doesn’t brood about Jimin encroaching on the same public space he is. Instead, he embraces it. Takes advantage of it, even, if the coffee shop is full and there isn't a free seat anywhere else.
He deprograms himself from the Pavlovian response he has to Jimin’s laughter. Instead of maliciously rolling his eyes every time, he tries to accept it as part of everyday life. Because Jimin laughs a lot, and constantly. At his own jokes. Even though they majorly suck. And that’s not Jeongguk’s annoyance speaking. That’s the objective truth.
He, begrudgingly, even makes small talk for the very first time in his life. It’s painful, and he’s never been this familiar with the weather forecast before, but it smooths something over between them that Jeongguk tried very hard to keep in disrepair.
After a while, even though he wouldn't call it ‘friendship,’ Jimin and him are, at the very least, acquaintances.
Jeongguk’s mother would be proud. She always told him to be the bigger person, to not hold grudges. He never listened.
But he sees now that she was right. He did not make a terrible mistake by being cordial to Jimin. The world didn't end. His pride was not shattered.
All that happened was a portion of his life got considerably easier. The portion where he has to spend time near Jimin. It's much less taxing when he doesn't waste all of his energy and focus on negative emotions.
It makes the house party Taehyung throws much more pleasant.
He does that, sometimes. Taking advantage of the private living space he has. They’re not the worst of the worst ragers college students have a reputation for– he still has neighbors– but he definitely makes use of his experience from high school. When his parties were the talk of the town. And often ended with the police showing up.
This time, there’s no more than a few handfuls of people. The music is at a bearable level, and no one is disruptively drunk yet. Which means that Jeongguk, famed introvert, actually somehow manages to relax and enjoy the vibes. The red cup in his hand helps.
He’s not even thinking about Jimin. Usually he would be trying to keep an eye on the other man, making sure he doesn't accidentally come off as friendly. But now he's not. He's listening to one of Taehyung’s friends tell a story that might or might not involve confessions of multiple felonies. Some other people are in the kitchen, trying to make pizzas for everybody. Jeongguk’s pretty sure a movie was on at one point, but it’s probably over by now.
So, there. Point proven. He could care less about what Jimin is up to.
And then his eyes do a sweep of the room, completely involuntarily, and immediately lock onto Jimin as a target in less than 0.1 seconds. As if they already knew where he would be before they started looking. And Jeongguk refers to his eyes as ‘they’ because he certainly wasn't trying to locate Jimin. No thank you.
But now that he's found him…
It's like he can't look away.
Jimin and Taehyung are slowdancing together, in the middle of the living room. Not with any real purpose, no. In fact, Jeongguk’s pretty sure everyone else is too high and/or drunk to pay them any real attention. The music isn't appropriate either– the end credits of that movie still rolling, no one caring enough to turn them off.
And they're doing these– these little twirls, a crude approximation of a waltz, which Jimin should be offended at, really, as a dance major, but he’s giggling instead, looking at Taehyung with these eyes, like he hung the stars in the sky, and Taehyung has him by the waist, and it's like they're in their own little world, and, fuck, that’s when Jeongguk realizes:
He’s jealous.
Yes, that’s it. He’s jealous! Of course he is, he should be! His boyfriend shouldn’t be doing that with someone else. Fuck, Jimin shouldnt be doing that with Jungkook’s boyfriend. Jungkook should be there instead, smiling and dancing and happy and in their own world, and it’s not fair that Taehyung– that Jimin–
And it clicks.
Finally, now with his perception is no longer clouded by hate, he realizes. The big why of it all.
It’s not Park Jimin himself that he dislikes. Jimin, on his own, is actually a perfectly tolerable human being. They might have even been friends, in another world.
But he is Jeongguk's boyfriend’s best friend. Soulmate. And the second he showed up, Taehyung put him first. Ever since he came into their lives, months ago, Jeongguk has barely had any time alone with Taehyung. Jimin changed everything.
And now, Jeongguk can’t tear his eyes away from them dancing. It’s like a trainwreck. And it causes memories to flash through Jeongguk’s mind, of all the previous times he didn't recognize his jealousy.
When they were picnicking outside, and Jimin was resting his head on Taehyung’s lap, and Taehyung was petting gently through Jimin’s hair, making him look up, all wide-eyed and puppy-like. And Jeongguk was sitting off to the side, watching.
Or when Taehyung just had to give Jimin a bite of the mochi he was eating, fingers holding out the sticky dough as Jimin’s teeth sank into it, powdery sugar residue staining his lips, his tongue slips out to clean them in these tiny, kittenish licks.
Consequently, when Jeongguk asked Taehyung for a bite, he was handed the bag. Which is– whatever. Not Jimin’s fault.
Jeongguk had just gotten too used to having Taehyung all to himself. And now he will have to share him with a friend. Which is fine.
That's the first time he’s framed it like that. Not Jimin’s fault. None of it. It’s just the situation. The hand they’ve been dealt. The hand Jeongguk was dealt.
Being a bystander to Taehyung and Jimin reading each other’s minds, sharing inside jokes, reenacting dramas only the two of them have watched. Watching as Taehyung squeezes Jimin’s cheeks together, making his lips puff out like a little beakie, and being jealous of–
Of Jimin, obviously. For hogging Taehyung. Who else?
That's the reason Jeongguk disliked him from the start. And now, having figured that out, he can feel guilt-free about it.
Thank god.