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The lock beeps twice before the door opens.
Their apartment smells faintly of garlic and soy sauce. Music low— Jimin's already home.
Jeongguk locks the door behind. Drops his bag on the floor. Doesn’t bother with shoes. Just walks in, slow. Shoulders squared but heavy, like something he’s carrying refuses to relent its grip on his back.
Jimin's grey suit jacket drapes over the couch back. His laptop glows faint blue on the table — unread emails, half a spreadsheet open beside a mug of cold coffee.
They do live in a better place now, compared to four months ago. But it's not that big— yet. They don't have a separate kitchen. It's right in front of the drawing room, separated by the kitchen island only.
Jimin's already there. Still in his grey ironed pants and satin white shirt— neatly tucked in, sleeves rolled and collar wide open with his favourite red apron on. His hair pushed back in loose strands.
His phone is wedged between his shoulder and ear. His left hand holds the frying pan and the right hand stirs whatever there is, with the spatula. “Yes, the report’s updated—no, don’t wait for me, I’ll send the draft before ten. Yeah, that's right. I’m hanging up now, ok?”
That's when something rattles and there's a barking.
Bhaw!
A doberman comes running straight out of the bedroom, with his tongue hanging. He rubs himself against Jeongguk’s leg but halts immediately when Jeongguk doesn't crouch on the floor and embraces him in his arms like he does everyday.
“Bambam… Dad’s tired, baby...” While cracking two eggs into the frying pan, Jimin speaks, without even looking back once. “Papa promised na? Papa will play with you later. Leave Dad for now. He needs to freshen up.” Jimin goes to the fridge, takes out something, and goes back to his frying pan.
Bam is a very well-disciplined child— but he is weak for his dad. So despite Jimin's promise, Bam looks up at Jeongguk with hopeful eyes, and turned down ears. When Jeongguk doesn't budge, Bam accepts his defeat. Wiggling his tail, he rather goes to his papa and rubs against his leg. Jimin giggles and crouches down, kissing Bam on his forehead and shushing him to go back inside.
He stands up and starts wrapping up.
“Hey,” he calls without looking back. “You’re late.”
Jeongguk walks up to the fridge with no response.
Jimin continues while cleaning the counter top with a piece of cloth.“By the way honey… I talked with Miss Lee. She’s gonna introduce us to the new Real Estate broker. She was asking for a date to fix the meeting. Said I'll confirm after talking to you.”
Jeongguk opens the fridge. Inside, stacked containers. A neat post-it: don’t forget lunch <3
He stares at it. As if trying to remember why he opened.
Jimin owns a chain of two small sushi and kimchi restaurants in Gangnam-gu. He had started with very little capital and business books read in library for free. Despite not having any kind of business family background, Jimin has built two successful businesses— by the age of 26— with just his minimal soccer scholarship in highschool and a little common sense. Although he hasn't achieved his financial goals yet— by the next 8 years, he has vowed to become one of the wealthiest men of Korea, along with his husband right above him in the list.
Jeongguk was bred in his Grandma's house— as both of his parents refused to take his custody after their divorce. His maternal uncle owned a big garage back in Busan— one-fourth of which he had turned into his office as he started working on his AI project. Now he owns a small but fast-growing IT company in Hongdae which sells AI agents to larger industries for automation.
Jimin finally turns off the oven. And turns to his right, towards his husband. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing.” Jeongguk mutters. “Why’s it so bright in here?”
Jimin looks around, confused. “What?”
“The lights,” Jeongguk says quietly, rubbing his temples. “Every bulb’s on.”
“Oh.” He laughs a little. “Yeah, I forgot. Sorry, I was running around looking through the financial statements —”
Jeongguk’s hand goes through his hair. He mutters only to himself, “You’re always ‘looking through the financial statements.’”
Jimin hums absentmindedly, going to the switch board. They're not exactly tight on budget. Not anymore. But every penny goes to reinvestment in their business. They can't have stupid expenses.
Jeongguk exhales through his nose, hard. His tie’s still on. His shoes too. He takes out a water bottle and closes the door. Walks to the kitchen island, leans against it and chugs down. By the time he’s done, Jimin has switched off most of the bulbs except for the kitchen. And he slowly walks up to the younger. He walks till he’s closing the gap between them.
Jeongguk tightens the cap of the bottle and blankly stares. Jimin licks his lip-balmed lip and plants both his hands on the wood on either side of Jeongguk’s hips, caging him in and slightly leaning in. They have a height difference, yes, but it's very little. They're nose to nose. Jeongguk can breathe the familiar air of Jimin's exhale. The elder looks straight into Jeongguk's eye and smiles gently.
“Rough day?” His eyes fall on Jeongguk's lips. Stays there just for a second and then back up to his eyes.
Jimin’s white shirt’s first four buttons are wide open. His collarbone, the ridiculous mole on the juncture and down the road, the smooth expanse of his chest is full out on display. Against the red apron. And he smells awesome. Jimin deserves better.
“I’m fine.”
Those two words. Too short, too flat.
Jimin's eyebrow frowns a little. He knows every muscle on Jeongguk's face. Has every tone memorised in his brain cells. “Are you sure?”
“Can you just—” Jeongguk stops himself, jaw tight. “Never mind.”
He tries to walk away. Getting the hint, Jimin steps back. Jeongguk goes back to the fridge to put the bottle inside.
“You’re not fine if it’s eating you alive, Jeon Jeongguk. Come on, talk to me before you explode.”
Jeongguk freezes. Something in that line hits wrong.
“I’m not going to explode,” he says, quiet.
“Okay.” Jimin laughs. “Good. Because last time you did, the blender didn’t survive.”
That did it.
He turns sharply, eyes burning. “You think this is funny?”
Jimin stills. “I was—”
“It's fine.” Jeongguk cuts off. He walks out of the kitchen, probably to the bedroom to change. But he halts midway and his shoulders droop. He exhales and leans against the dinner table. Hands holding the edge. Head hung low. “I had it handled. And maybe—maybe we— our team— could’ve fixed it. But the investors already pulled out. Said our system is too amature for this shit.”
Jimin’s eyes widen. “They pulled out?”
Jeongguk's eyes dart beside his hands. He grips the takeout bag on the table. “What’s this?”
“Your lunch. For tomorrow,” Jimin says quietly, lingering near the kitchen island, taking his apron off.
Jeongguk stares at the bag. Something strings inside his chest. Jeongguk for some reason, somehow never missed his lunch. But he has no idea if his husband has goddamn eaten anything else besides dinner with him, for the past month.
Jeongguk holds the bag tighter. He breathes through his nose. Then the bag slams down hard on the floor with a guttural shout. Sauce explodes across the tile.
Jimin jumps back. Eyes widening.
“God—” Jeongguk shoves his hair back, voice loud now, trembling. “Fucking stop it Jimin! Just. Fucking. Stop it!”
Jimin looks up, lips parted. Eyes widened. “What-”
“You can manage your business and play the perfect wife all at once. But I’m not like you ok? I have flaws! Do you know how hard I try to make things work? To fix every stupid mistake before someone else calls it failure?!”
Jeongguk’s breathing spikes; he swipes his hand on the table with a shout, the plates clatter. “I work fourteen hours trying to fix things that shouldn’t even break! One breakdown, one delay, one stupid error—”
His hand finds the remote.
“—and suddenly it’s all on me!”
The remote flies before he finishes. It hits the TV with a sharp crack.
The TV flashes white, one line splitting the screen.
Jimin flinches. The shrill sound jolting his shoulders.
He steps back till he hits the counter top. Eyes glistening. Lips trembling.
Jeongguk loosens his tie. His breathing roughens.
“I’M DOING EVERYTHING I CAN AND IT'S NEVER ENOUGH! It’s always— data imbalance this, legal issues that—always something! Do you know how many people depend on me to keep that place running? How many hours I’m killing myself for? And I come home to—And you think I come home every night to play a perfect husband like you, while everything I built is crumbling?!”
His voice thundered across the room. Jeongguk’s chest heaves up and down.
Jimin just stands there. Shocked. Frozen.
Hurt.
His mouth opens, then closes again. He looks at Jeongguk like he’s trying to recognize him.
Jimin bites his lips, a drop of tear falling down his cheeks. But then, his body, on its own, takes a step forward. Instinct. “But… But I still believe in you, love..”
“Oh please. Believe in me?” Jeongguk laughs, both hands on his hips. “Believe… DO YOU KNOW THAT'S THE REASON I CAN'T SLEEP AT NIGHT?” Jimin flinches again, taking a few steps back on his own. “BECAUSE YOU BELIEVE IN ME! THE PERFECT PARK JIMIN WHO'S GOT EVERYTHING FIGURED. YOU SAY I DON'T HAVE TO DO EVERYTHING RIGHT. BUT I ALWAYS HAVE TO DO EVERYTHING RIGHT BECAUSE THERE'S SOMEONE WHO BELIEVES IN ME! YOU SAY I’M ALLOWED TO SCREW UP! BUT I CAN'T SCREW IT UP BECAUSE THERE'S SOMEONE WHO BELIEVES IN ME! Why Park Jimin?” Jeongguk breathes heavily, his eyes red. “Why give me the pressure? You could've joined the others and laughed at me and my idea and my team and the bullshit I’ve been trying to build. At least I WOULD STOP HOPING THAT I’M WORTH SOMEONE'S BELIEF!!!”
The room goes radio silent. Bam runs out of the bedroom. But pauses right after the threshold. He looks around. At Jeongguk then at Jimin. Then turns around and goes back in.
Jeongguk, grabbing his hips, hangs his head low and breathes heavily.
Jimin— he gulps. Bites his lips and hangs his head low too, squeezing his eyes shut. Tears drop down on the kitchen floor.
The air is thick. There's absolute silence— except the fridge motor and Jeongguk’s breath.
Moments pass with the weight of eras.
Jimin lifts his head. Silent. Runs one hand through his hair. The other sits loosely on his hip. He looks up. Blinks back the burn in his eyes multiple times. Exhales the breath he was choking on, through his mouth. Wipes his cheeks with his knuckles. And then— takes one step forward. Then another. He keeps taking, until he's right in front of the smoking lava.
A wet streak still trails down Jimin's cheeks.
His hands shake as they reach out. He cups Jeongguk’s face. Lifts it up. And looks him in the eye. Red.
Jeongguk's eyes are red.
Jimin stares before he closes his own, tilts his head and leans forward, pressing his lips softly against the younger’s plump ones— easy, familiar. Their lips always fitting against each other.
Jeongguk freezes. Hands still on his hips. Eyes wide. Breathes heavy while the elder sucks those lips.
Breaking the kiss, Jimin pecks on his lips before pulling back, “You hungry?” Jimin whispers, looking into Jeongguk's red eyes. “Go freshen up. Dinner’s ready.”
Jimin steps back and turns around. Brings a broom and cleans the broken dishes.
Jeongguk stands frozen. Silent.
He turns towards Jimin when Jimin walks past him with the garbage and dumps it into the dustbin under the basin. When Jimin's drying his washed hands with the towel, Jeongguk marches towards him, grabs his hands and drags him to the dining table.
Jimin's eyes widen. “Wh-”
Jeongguk grabs the elder's ass. Lifts him up effortlessly in one scoop. Jimin immediately grabs Jeongguk's shoulder for balance. Jeongguk seats Jimin on the table. Slams his hands down on either side of the elder's hip. And cages him this time.
Jimin doesn't move his hands from the younger's shoulder. Eyes a little wide for the suddenness of it all.
Jeongguk breathes through his nose, “How…how the fuck do you do that? Every goddamn time.” He hisses.
“What?” Jimin wipes his cheeks with his knuckles again.
“Tolerate me. And not shout back. For a single time.”
Jimin chuckles. And then this time he does it faster. He grabs Jeongguk’s collar and smashes his lips against the younger's.
Jeongguk kisses back this time. Immediately.
They suck each other's mouths off for a fair few moments before pulling back. Both of their shoulders heaving up and down. Both of them inhaling the other's exhale.
Jimin retreats one hand from Jeongguk’s collar and cups Jeongguk's cheek with it. There's hunger. In both their eyes. The air is thickly hot. Dynamic. The hunger simmering through both of their bodies. And seeping into the atmosphere. Jimin's eyes searches Jeongguk’s then falls on his lips with anticipation. Jeongguk does the same. The same anticipation.
Jeongguk snakes his hands around Jimin's waist and drags him closer, smashing their body together. Jimin wraps his legs and locks his socked feet around Jeongguk's waist.
Their shoulders are still heaving. The room is impossibly hot.
Jimin says breathless. “It’s not like I am not angry with you. Of course I am.” He shamelessly stares at Jeongguk’s lips, “God… sometimes I hate you so much that I feel like I might stab you to death.”
“Is it?” Jeongguk stares at Jimin's swollen lips, hungrily parting his own.
“I write awful things about you in my diary. I dream about cutting your dick and chopping it away.”
Jeongguk chuckles and looks back up at Jimin's eyes with his unbelieving ones. “You what—?”
Jimin laughs too. “But…” Jimin whispers, touching their foreheads with closed eyes.
Suddenly the filthy thickness dissipates from the air. And it's just lukewarm. Jimin smiles softly with closed eyes. “I can still breathe it. 2 years ago. 28th September. I vowed it.” Jimin's breath trembles as he feels Jeongguk's thumb caressing the apple of his cheeks. “Staying by your side is my ultimate karma and dharma. For the rest of my life. And Jeon Jeongguk. You’ve married a man of his words.” Jimin chuckles.
Jeongguk chuckles too. Two different drops of tears falling on Jimin's lap at the same time.
“Fuck you… Park Jimin” Jeongguk whispers in between a half laugh and half sob. They stay like that. Eyes closed. Foreheads touched.
Jimin tries to laugh too. “Shut up. You're the one who hasn't fucked me for three and a half days. I’m the one who’s tired of waiting with my thighs wide open.”
“Then—” Jeongguk throws Jimin back on the table— “Let’s put a stop to the wait.”— and tears off the elder's shirt with the rest of his buttons.
6 years later
The mountain sky is absolutely clear with cotton white clouds.
Jimin's mother pours more meat on Jeongguk's plate. Jimin gives his mother a betrayed look. Jeongguk’s mother laughs heartily while pouring meat on Jimin's plate. Jeongguk’s father laughs as well, grilling the meat beside the mat. Jimin's father comes back from the deeper forest with some kind of spices. He shows it to Jeongguk's grandmother and Jimin groans when Grandma nods yes in confirmation. Jimin's father laughs out, proud of himself. Jimin puffs his cheeks— losing three bets in a row, and grumpily agrees to clean the mess at the end. Jimin's father washes the spices thoroughly and pours it into the earthen pot in which the soup was bubbling with steam. Earlier they made rice in the same earthen pot— the one Jeongguk’s grandmother got from her own mother-in-law.
The beautiful Spring day passes by with bursts of laughter from people of three different generations, meat and Jeongguk's grandmother’s better-than-20th-Century-Fox story. They all agreed with it.
“Yah Jeon Jeongguk! Nature isn't your goddamn dustbin!!!” Jimin shouts and then sighs exasperatedly. The whole family is enjoying the sunset on the other end because the view is great from there, while his poor ass is cleaning the mess before the sunlight vanishes!
He can see Jeongguk laughing at him from the far end. Of course he’s laughing.
Jimin's heart melts. He plops on his ass beside the picnic mat, on the green grass, leaning back with his two hands supporting his weight.
Jeongguk. His mom, dad and grandma. Jimin. And his own mom, dad. Jimin smiles looking up at the sky. Bam must be looking at them from up there.
The golden hue reflects off of the cotton clouds and lands right on his face painting him gold. Jimin closes his eyes and feels the warmth.
His little family. They're healthy. And they're happy. Jimin couldn't ask for more.
He finally sighs and picks up the magazine from under the tree and drops it in his small makeshift dustbin of a cardboard box. It was a magazine that Jeongguk had thrown away earlier, snatching it from grandma because she was too obsessed with it.
Jimin calls it borderline obsession.
Grandma had laughed at Jeongguk saying he needs to grow up and she had the whole magazine memorised anyway.
Cleaning the place and rolling the picnic mat, Jimin runs off to the other end of the mountain. “Heyy I’m coming tooooo!!!”
The magazine lays at the top of the heap of garbage in the cardboard box.
Forbes Billionaire Couple of the Year: Jeon Jeongguk & Park Jimin