Work Text:
Jungkook didn’t know what to expect when he arrived home, but it wasn’t the bedroom he shared with Namjoon being locked.
He jiggled the knob a second time, thinking maybe it was just stuck—nope, locked.
He frowned but decided it wasn’t a big deal. He had other options.
Jimin’s door was always wide open; he, Taehyung, and Hoseok never minded the other members’ company.
No one was inside when he entered when dropped his backpack on the ground, so he made himself comfortable by climbing up to Jimin’s bunk bed and flopping onto the mattress. Instantly, he relaxed.
Lying in Jimin’s bed became a habit, stemmed from one late night when Jungkook had a nightmare about never getting to return home to Busan. One night turned into a few more—“just to make sure”; it was something Jimin didn’t usually believe, but he never took any real effort to keep Jungkook away.
It used to be a little awkward and clumsy. At the time, Jimin wasn’t used to having a bedfellow, particularly one he often equated to a space heater; and Jungkook was still a tad shy when it came to physical contact.
But comfort came with time. They soon fell into the routine of Jungkook climbing up into his bed. Jungkook’s muscle memory always led him there instead of his own room. He found Jimin to be the most comfortable member, soft and languid and just always there when he needed him; the only person he could fall asleep to if he kept tossing and turning.
It was their habit. Their normal.
Come home soon, he thought absently, eyes fluttering closed.
He woke up to Jimin beside him, shaking him awake. It was darker now, and Jungkook could hear the laughter of the other members in the living room. It must be later in the night if everyone was already home.
“Sorry,” his hyung told him, though Jungkook couldn’t imagine why he was apologizing. “Your room is unlocked now.”
“Oh,” Jungkook responded groggily, turning onto his back to face him in the darkness. Why was he apologizing? “Namjoon-hyung opened it?”
“Yeah.” Jimin said no more. He averted his gaze. “I’m going to sleep now, Kookie-ah.”
Jungkook knew he was supposed to take it as a hint to leave, but he didn’t feel like moving.
“Can I sleep here?” Jungkook asked, unabashed.
“You have your own bed,” he replied, his words slow and wary, as if he thought about saying no. “You’re not a kid anymore, Jungkook.”
He never hesitated before. Jungkook couldn’t help his disappointment, but persevered. “But you’re comfortable.”
“Jungkook…”
“Hyung, please?” Jungkook grabbed his wrist and pulled.
Jimin looked even more uncertain than before, but it was hard for him to resist him. With a sigh, he relented, sliding into a lying position next to him, facing the wall.
Jungkook smiled to himself and curled himself around his hyung’s form, his chest pressed against Jimin’s back. He buried his face into his neck.
But the scent he was so used to wasn’t there. Jungkook’s smile instantly disappeared. He was motionless and wide awake. He knew this smell better than anyone. It always wafted around his own room; sprayed heavily like it was no one’s business. It was strong, distinctive, and commanding, fitting for a leader.
Namjoon-hyung’s cologne.
Jungkook tried to put it out of his mind. He spent a lot of the next morning reasoning why he smelled Namjoon on Jimin—reminding himself that Jimin cuddled with all his members, that Namjoon probably sprayed his cologne around him.
He thought maybe Jimin simply borrowed it, but then recalled him complaining once how much he hated the smell of it; it wouldn’t make sense.
Jungkook trudged up the stairwell of the work building to the second floor. As he made his way quietly down the hallway, he heard a thump against the wall next to him, followed by a distinct voice.
“Aren’t you a soft little thing?”
Namjoon-hyung’s voice.
Jungkook would normally speed past if he heard anything like this through the door of one of the recording rooms in the company building, especially if he recognized the voice.
But the subsequent giggle that followed froze him in place, making his chest grow cold.
Jiminnie-hyung.
It was Jimin’s laugh. Definitely. Jungkook recognized it in an instant, because he had memorized every lilt and note. It always vibrated his bones with warmth and familiarity, no matter how long or short, soft or loud.
Jimin-hyung is in there with Namjoon-hyung.
“Ah, h-hyung…”
“Hm? You like me touching you like that, don’t you?”
Jimin and Namjoon.
Jimin.
And Namjoon.
Jungkook didn’t recognize heartbreak at first. He expected a sudden hit, a blunt force that collapsed him to his knees and shattered everything inside of him.
No—heartbreak sneaked up on him, a budding mar in his chest that expanded and blistered and burned into something bigger until it took over his whole body. It was slow and gradual; it was painful. It left him trembling as he staggered away from the door.
His heart shriveled in his chest, charred to bits and ashes, falling to his feet. It hurt. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt.
He wished he could bolt out of there, but only had the energy to stagger to the end of the hall and into the stairwell, leaving a trail of breaking heart along the way.
Jungkook shut himself into one of the work rooms on the floor above and started up the computer in there.
He could get his mind off of it; he could drown in work and productivity. He could forget. Jimin could do whatever he wanted.
He just didn’t know Namjoon could touch Jimin like that, in ways he couldn’t penetrate. He didn’t know someone other than Jungkook could make him laugh so happily.
He didn’t know someone could have the sole right to have Jimin completely. Someone not Jungkook, who willingly lost himself in Jimin’s eyes for comfort, who tried, so, so hard, to cheer Jimin up when he was sad or lonely. Jungkook thought Jimin would be open and there for him forever. Now he felt like Jimin was walking too far ahead, Jungkook reaching for his hand in desperation, only for him to slip away more and more.
He just didn’t know.
After he set the software and the other equipment up, he opened his mouth to sing.
But instead of his voice, his throat thickened.
A tear slid down his cheek. Then another. Soon he found himself slumping to the ground, crying hard. The reality settled sharper and sharper in his mind.
Jungkook waited for him that night again, lying in Jimin’s bed instead of his own. He wondered if Namjoon cared that he did this; or if Jimin would eventually kick him out.
But Jungkook refused to let any rift between them grow. Sometimes he was stubborn like that, taking every measure to keep Jimin close.
Taehyung and Hoseok had looked at him curiously at first, but didn’t say anything about it before they turned in for the night—they were used to it now.
Did you guys know, too?
Jungkook could no longer be in his own room and pretend Namjoon didn’t have Jimin. He would go crazy. He would have to fight the urge to yell and scream at his hyung and group leader for—
For what? he accused himself. For taking someone who was never yours to begin with?
Jungkook didn’t bother swallowing the aching lump in his throat.
No. Maybe he was assuming things. He had to be.
Jimin came back an hour or so later. He was quick to discover his bedfellow.
“Jungkook-ah?”
“Hyung, can I sleep here?” He really hoped he didn’t sound as desperate as he felt.
Jimin laughed a little, breathy and with a bit of disbelief. “Why not in your own bed? Your room should be empty.”
He would know, wouldn’t he?
He swallowed the aching lump in his throat.. “Namjoon-hyung’s not there?”
Jimin climbed the rest of the way onto the bunk laid himself down, turning over, once again, to face the wall, like he did not want to look at him directly; not with those secrets. “He’s at the company building with Yoongi-hyung.”
Jungkook stayed silent. He scooted closer, wrapping an arm over Jimin like he usually did.
He was quick to smell Namjoon.
It hurt, it hurt, it hurt, but he held Jimin tighter.
He could be selfish and just pretend, couldn’t he?
“Jungkook,” Jimin whispered out of the blue no more than a few seconds later. Jungkook felt his hyung’s hand cover his, concerned. “What’s wrong?”
But Jungkook couldn’t respond. He was so used to coming to Jimin when he felt bad, but who should he go to now, when Jimin was the one who hurt him?
“Jungkook-ah?” Jimin sounded gentler than ever, full of love that burned and blistered Jungkook because he just wanted more. “Jungkook-ah, you’re crying.”
Jimin had always been his home away from home. With him, Jungkook could speak naturally in his accent, pretend that he and Jimin were in a room near the sea and not in a dorm on the other side of the country. Jimin’s embraces once felt like being enveloped in a soft, security blanket, and his shushes and soft reassurances sounded like lullabies. He could relax.
He thought he found someone brotherly in Jimin. Jungkook valued him above every other member of his group. He looked at him first and always followed after him. The two of them were the closest behind cameras and closed doors.
And for some reason, as Jungkook laid with him, eyes squeezed shut, chin quivering, and cheeks soaked wet, he felt further away than ever.
“I miss home,” he whispered.
The magic words. Jimin was quick to roll over and face Jungkook, his face full of immediate concern and gentle love. But it hurt to look into eyes Jungkook had known for years now appear guarded.
This was the home he missed—the ones behind the gate of secrets he built around him.
“I’m sorry,” Jimin murmured, and pulled him closer. “We haven’t had a break in a while, have we?”
Namjoon’s scent was strong, stinging his nostrils and his eyes. Jungkook couldn’t tell if his tears were from its pungency or just knowing that Namjoon got to touch Jimin so intimately.
Jungkook wanted to say something else. If he talked, would that bring Jimin closer to him again? How was he supposed to hold on to him?
“Is there something you want me to do, Jungkook-ah?”
Jimin stroked his head now, soothing him with only marginal success.
Love me, Jungkook suddenly thought, his lips itching to blurt it out. But he bit them down; any harder and he would draw blood. Love me like I’m everything you ever wanted.
“Just… don’t go,” he whispered.
“I’m always here, Jungkook-ah,” Jimin replied softly, just before he yawned. “Don’t cry. I’m here.”
Jungkook couldn’t help but yawn as well, and he closed his eyes when Jimin did. He relished the feel of his hyung’s smaller, softer hand stroke from the top of his head down to his neck.
Jungkook opened his eyes halfway to gaze at the tired face in front of him, soft and—
Not mine.
He scoffed softly at the painful reminder, and he ignored its persistence into his skull. He let greed and selfishness scoot his face forward until their noses touched.
Satisfied by their proximity—at least for the night—Jungkook closed his eyes.
Jungkook became watchful of Jimin’s and Namjoon’s interactions. He hated himself for growing repulsed by the sight of their leader, the smell of his cologne, the secret grins he shot at Jimin when the latter wasn’t looking.
But Jimin…
It was a practice day in the dance studio, so everyone was accounted for. Even though Jungkook tried to concentrate on his conversation with Seokjin, he kept one eye on Namjoon and Jimin.
They did not talk much. Far too less for them to find anything special with each other. Namjoon was always on his phone when he wasn’t concentrated on work.
I’m overreacting, Jungkook thought to himself.
But then Jimin passed by Namjoon’s chair in order to reach Jungkook. He spotted the way Namjoon naturally seemed to turned and look up at Jimin like he was a god. His whole body seemed to face him like an old habit.
Their group leader, the most charismatic member who could drop Bangtan and still be popular and successful without any need for backup—infatuated by cute, caring Jimin.
Don’t you look at him the same way? Jungkook asked himself bitterly.
Jungkook pressed his back into the coolness of the mirrored wall, drawing his knees tighter against his chest, the incoming surge of pain too unbearable to shrug off.
“Jungkook-ah? Are you okay?”
Jimin slumped down next to him. Jungkook knew Namjoon wasn’t looking, but he was still vigilant. His Jimin—not Jungkook’s.
His voice cracked when he replied. “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.” Jimin ran his hand gently over the back of his head, down his neck, between the shoulder blades. He has done this before, but now it made Jungkook shiver, just barely, with need for more affection.
“Are you still homesick?”
Jungkook swallowed. “It’s… it’s worse.”
“Do you want me to talk to staff about a break?”
“No. I just—” I just want you.
“Just what?”
Jungkook didn’t want to talk anymore, so he sucked in a cheek and looked away.
Jimin heaved a sigh and stood up again.
“Fine,” he muttered sourly.
Jungkook felt terrible, but what was he supposed to do when Jimin was the problem?
He slept in his own bed that night.
It was the better choice—Jimin wasn’t his; he had no right seeking such close, personal comfort every night. What would Namjoon say?
I can deal with this, he thought with confidence, pulling the covers around him. He faced the wall, away from the space of the room and its scented, traitorous air.
I can get over it.
He lied. He was terrible at coping.
On a night he told himself to be productive, he sat dazed in front of the computer in the closet room instead, post-soju. Rather than staring at music like he should be, he stared at Twitter, gaze soft on Jimin’s latest selca. His laughter echoed in his mind—it starting airy and sweet, then quick to transform into something coy and seductive. Namjoon’s laugh now; not Jungkook’s.
Feeling too wired to sit still and concentrate, Jungkook shot to his feet. The combination of his feelings and the alcohol made him restless; so much that he felt like he could run all over the dorm, dance for hours and hours until the sun came up. Something. He wished there was an easy way to get rid of his problems.
But it was Jimin. He couldn’t just get rid of Jimin. No one could get rid of Jimin.
Before he knew it, his feet moved. He drunkenly swayed with each consequent step, more so than the previous.
This was a bad idea. His mind screamed for him to return to the closet room before he did something he regretted, but his heart cut off those warnings with delusional, wishful coaxes—Jimin was home and would take care of him; Jimin was there to talk to him; Jiminloved him.
Jungkook found him in the kitchen. The sink was running and he could hear the clinks and clangs of dishes and pots.
“Jimin, Jimin, Jiminnie,” Jungkook slurred.
It only took one glance out of the corner of his eye for Jimin to understand his current state. He pursed his lips together and went back to his chore.
“How much?” Jimin asked plainly.
Pay attention to me. Jungkook draped himself over Jimin from behind, chin tucked over his shoulder, arms wrapping around his middle. Me, me, me.
“I’m not for sale,” Jungkook answered, voice thick, flowing swiftly in his Busan accent.
He nosed into Jimin’s neck. He still smelled like Namjoon, but it was faint; Jungkook couldn’t tell if it was because he was too drunk or if it was safe to assume that Jimin had been spending less time with him.
“That’s not what I mean,” Jimin said. “You know that.”
“So grumpy,” Jungkook whined.
“Well, you can thank Jin-hyung for making me wash all the damn dishes tonight. I can’t really help it.”
Without thinking, Jungkook pressed his lips lightly against Jimin’s neck. A gesture of encouragement, surely, but no less surprising, especially coming from Jungkook. He normally shied from anything intimate, but the fuzziness in his brain told him it didn’t matter.
Jungkook felt Jimin’s body tense up.
“What’s with you?” he asked.
“What’s with me?” Jungkook asked, losing more of his reservation with each word. “What’s with you?”
“Jung—”
“By the way,” Jungkook interrupted. “It’s four. Four shots of soju.”
Jimin let out an amused scoff in spite of himself. “Only four?”
Jungkook scowled as he nuzzled some more into Jimin. He clung and squeezed like his life depended on it. “Shut up…”
“Don’t lean on me like that. You’re heavy.”
“Hyung…” Jungkook groaned in a muffled voice, doing the opposite of what he asked and putting all his weight on Jimin. God, he was so warm. And soft beyond belief, better than the best of beds. Jungkook could honestly fall asleep standing here.
Jimin had no choice but to stop what he was doing in order to tend to Jungkook.
“Jungkook—move.” Jimin was pushing back, unsuccessfully, against his weight.
“You wanna get out—”
“Of course I want to get out,” Jimin huffed. “You’re squishing me against the sink. I can’t breathe.”
Jungkook laughed at him and eased up, though he still had Jimin caged in with his hands at either side of the sink counter, their bodies close.
He didn’t know what exactly happened, but as soon as Jimin turned, Jungkook’s heart just… stopped. Jimin was gorgeous; sharply so, even in his soju-laden haze.
“Jungkook-ah,” Jimin uttered in no more than a gasp, looking up as Jungkook leaned closer and closer. He appeared curious, maybe even dauntless. “What are you doing?”
Without warning, Jungkook slid his lips against Jimin’s. Ah, so plush. So warm and moist. It made his head swim; lethargically like spiked molasses, so sweet it became tart.
For a moment, Jimin kissed back, his hands hot and wet from the sink, soaking the front of Jungkook’s shirt where he clutched him.
There was a thunderous spark, vibrating between them. Jungkook was so sure Jimin felt it. He was sure he wanted it.
Jungkook sighed, lips parting to sweep his tongue into Jimin’s mouth.
His hyung responded instinctively, pressing closer as he returned the kiss with languid passion.
The venture into heaven was all-too brief. This angel of a human being gripped Jungkook by the chin to separate their swollen, kiss-reddened lips, his eyes guarded and remorseful.
“You don’t want to do this,” Jimin murmured. “You’re drunk.”
“But I love you.” Jungkook was only vaguely aware of the desperation in his tone. He knew he shouldn’t have said anything, but it was hard stopping himself now.
“Jungkook,” Jimin said more firmly. Jungkook swore he saw glassiness in his eyes, but he wasn’t sure. “Please. Please don’t.”
Jungkook felt tears prickle his own, his emotions crashing over him worse than ever. He was drowning.
“Is it…” he asked in a hesitant voice. “Is it because of Namjoon-hyung?”
Jimin flinched, just a tad, like his secret had been figured out.
Of course. The sharpness of that reality stabbed him, like a sword fresh from the whetstone. It sobered him.
“What do you know about Joonie-hyung?” Jimin asked after several silent seconds.
Joonie-hyung. It was so cute and affectionate and he abhorred it. He wanted to rip the words from Jimin’s mind. He wanted it violent, like the feelings churning inside of him. He wanted to burn the words until they were nothing.
“Are you…” Jungkook wished he could stop himself from asking, from wondering, but his need for painful truth couldn’t be helped. “… together?”
Jimin tensed. “What makes you think that?”
“You can’t hide things like that from me. I know you.”
At least, he thought he did.
“Jungkook…” His tone was slow and wary. “Why are you asking me this?”
Jungkook was too hesitant to answer.
“Well…” Jimin started in a soft voice, sensing he won’t be getting a response, “we’re seeing each other.”
Jungkook tensed under the soft hand trying to comb through his hair. Nothing about this comforted him. “You’re—”
“Not dating, but… we both have needs. We both get lonely…”
You have me, Jungkook wanted to tell him, his heart sinking heavily from his chest to his stomach. You. Have. Me.
What was there to be lonely over?
“Only he can give you that,” Jungkook said, not sure why he even thought that he wanted to hear any confirmation.
“I guess.”
The ache in Jungkook’s throat only thickened when he tried to swallow. “How long?”
Jimin sighed and faced away. “A couple weeks now? We were drunk when it first happened. And things just kind of kept happening. I don’t know what else to tell you, Jungkook.”
A couple weeks was how long Jungkook had been clueless—so stupid. A couple weeks too late.
“You’re really not…”
“Not what? Jungkook—” Jimin was clearly frustrated. “Just talk to me.”
Jungkook averted his eyes to Jimin’s feet. He wanted to look at anything but his face. “His boyfriend.”
“No.” Jimin’s answer was firm. Reassuring, too, maybe, in Jungkook’s delusion. “Are you relieved?”
Jungkook’s eyes rose to meet his again. He spotted acute awareness in his eyes, like Jimin knew the answers Jungkook was still trying to seek.
Could he tell? And if he did, then what? Was Jimin going to run out of Namjoon’s embrace and right into his?
Red string of fate, he thought—what he had hoped tied him and Jimin together.
But little by little, the string stretched and thinned. Its color began to fade from its vibrance, its liveliness. It was such an emptying, crippling feeling.
“Does it matter?” Jungkook asked quietly.
Jungkook didn’t quite understand the emotion in Jimin’s stare, but it implored him; it demanded something.
But Jungkook said nothing. Again.
“I guess it doesn’t,” Jimin muttered. “Is that what you want to hear?”
He looked at Jungkook—really looked at him. His penetrating stare sent hopeful tingles down Jungkook’s spine.
“Jungkook… are you really homesick?”
Jungkook’s chest tightened, his intention to speak coming out a thick exhale of breath instead. He missed his family, sure, but Jimin was wrong. And he had to correct him. He had to stop waiting and wallowing.
“Home,” he sighed, gazing at him straight in the eye. “The home I miss is right in front of me.”
It only took seconds for Jimin to figure it out. He didn’t move away once he did, but he didn’t move any closer, either.
“Jungkook,” he finally whispered, uncertain. He leaned in closer, and Jungkook thought that maybe he was a little closer to obtaining his heart, too. “Don’t let me think I could have you.”
Jungkook’s mouth parted in surprise. He didn’t expect this, either—did Jimin want him this entire time? His abundance of his affection… had that been real?
How could Jungkook have missed this?
“You do have me, hyung,” he said. “You’ve had me for a long time. And I—”
Before he could finish, they heard the front door swing open. They both glanced up as Namjoon’s and Taehyung’s voices filled the air in light chatter.
Jungkook turned back to Jimin, whose head was bowed, hair covering his eyes, teeth biting into his lip. The conversation and whatever it could have led to was ruined; he was sure of it.
“Hyung,” Jungkook started in a low voice.
“Jimin-ah? Are you here?”
No, Jungkook wanted to answer for him, veins afire with jealousy as he watched Jimin quickly, instinctively reacted to Namjoon’s voice, back straightening and head craning to look outside the kitchen.
Seconds later, Jungkook stood broken, staring at the pile of unfinished dishes as Jimin slipped from his grasp as he always did.
The next day, Jungkook stumbled upon an argument between Namjoon and Jimin, behind the closed door of one of the company work rooms—the same one he had heard them messing around in before. A harsh sigh from the group leader had stopped him in his tracks, and Jungkook couldn’t resist the urge to put an ear to the door to listen.
“I’m normally cool about you being affectionate with everyone, Jimin,” Namjoon said, his voice collected but edging on anger. Of course Namjoon would figure it out—he was incredibly intuitive about all of the members; especially Jimin. “But you’re leading him on. You’ve been giving him more special treatment than before we hooked up. You and I—”
“You and I?” Jimin repeated with exasperation. “There is no you and— Namjoon-hyung, we discussed this.”
“… I know.”
“So, there’s no point in arguing.”
“Why the hell are you so protective of him? He’s an adult now, Jimin-ah. You can’t keep indulging him.”
“It’s Jungkookie,” Jimin said, his voice softer, fonder; the kind that drove gentle but insistent emotion into Jungkook’s heart, enough for him to physically clutch his chest through his shirt as he continued listening.
“Is he why you’re never in the mood?”
Jimin was silent, like Jungkook had been when confronted. Apparently, that was enough of an answer for Namjoon.
“Be direct with me, Jimin-ah. Do you have feelings for him?”
“I… I always have.”
The answer was soft. Jungkook almost didn’t hear him. But if Jimin sounded that quiet, that vulnerable, then it must be true.
His heart, his entire body, inside and out, felt warm.
Another long silence, this time on Namjoon’s end; maybe to gather thoughts, to reel himself back in by an answer he may or may not have expected.
“I see.”
“It’s just… Jungkookie—it has to be Jungkookie. I’m sorry.”
Jungkook’s heart skipped with a hopeful beat. It has to be me.
“… No, I should’ve kept in mind what our boundaries were. I mean, it hasn’t even been that long, right? and still…”
He got attached, Jungkook concluded. And it wasn’t his fault. No one can ever help falling for others; not even their fearless leader was immune to it.
“I really wish there was room in my heart for you,” Jimin muttered apologetically. “I look up to you, you know. I just… I just don’t love you like that. We can’t keep going with this.”
“… Why did we even start it, Jimin?”
Jungkook imagined Jimin drawing in a breath, eyes low and guilty, but finally sure of what he wanted. He wanted Jungkook. It almost felt like a dream, knowing that this was true—Jimin wanted Jungkook; he loved him.
“Does that need saying now?”
Jungkook heard a sharp huff of breath from Namjoon. “You’re right.”
“Hyung, I really am sor—”
“Jimin, it’s okay.”
“But—”
“Just leave me alone for a while.”
Jungkook heard footsteps, then looked down to see the doorknob turn.
Jimin’s eyes automatically caught his when he stepped out. He didn’t seem entirely surprised to find Jungkook standing there. But he didn’t move.
Jungkook hated seeing him disappointed over himself. He wanted no more than to kiss that frown away, to press his worried face against his shoulder and soothe him with soft songs in his ear.
“Jiminnie-hyung.”
Jimin winced at the sound of his name. “Not now,” he muttered. “I just broke someone’s heart.”
It was only a few weeks, Jungkook wanted to remind him, but he realized that Namjoon wasn’t too different from himself; he had pined for Jimin longer than those few weeks.
But he chose Jungkook in the end.
And yet Jimin still slid past him, just like in the kitchen, taking pieces of Jungkook’s heart with him.
Not now, Jungkook repeated to himself, but the words, no matter how much he read into them, didn’t reassure him.
If not now, when?
The dorm was empty when Jungkook came back home a few hours later. He ran a mental list of where each of them went—Yoongi and Namjoon both still at the company building, Seokjin at his family home to check up on their plants and the dog, Hoseok and Taehyung at karaoke with other friends, and Jimin—
Well, he didn’t know where Jimin went and it worried him. His mind filled with Jimin; pondering where he was, why he didn’t answer any of his calls or texts. Being distracted by that proved his presence at his workplace fruitless, so he left.
Restless, he sank down on the couch in the living room to wait for the hyung he fell head-over-heels in love with.
He was dozing off when he heard the door open, followed by bumps and crashes and thetap-tap-tap of the shoes near the door being pushed and kicked around by the new arrival.
His eyes popping back open, he turned, and there was Jimin, swaying as he made his way into the living room.
“Are you drunk?” Jungkook uttered in disbelief, pulling to his feet.
Jimin laughed upon seeing the panicked worry on his face, so hard he toppled forward into him. Jungkook scrambled clumsily to catch him.
“Ah?” Jimin slurred. “Jungkook-ah?”
“Hyung, what did you do? Who took you—”
His lips stretched into a lazy, beautiful smile. “I drank allll by myself.”
“You don’t need to do that,” Jungkook scolded him gently, ignoring the hurtful twist in his heart. “You should’ve just come back here. I could’ve—”
Jimin cupped either side of his face and brought his face close, until their noses touched. Longing seared Jungkook’s veins. God, he missed him. He missed everything about him even though they talked and saw each other every day. He was sure Jimin did, too, even if he didn’t want to admit it.
“Jungkook-ah,” he whimpered. “You never sleep properly.”
Because I’m not with you, Jungkook thought. He swallowed. “Uh, hold on a bit,” he said, trying not to stutter at the needy way Jimin pressed into him. “I’ll get you water and crackers.”
He moved him into a sitting position on the edge of the couch and did just that. When he returned, Jimin was no longer falling over drunk, but curled against one end of the couch, head against the throw pillow, face tucked against his forearms.
“Hyung?”
Jimin shifted, just enough to glance at him from the corner of his eye. “Hm?”
“Have some water.” He handed the glass to him and opened the packet of saltine crackers in his hand. “These, too.”
Jimin sat up straight and took a long, thoughtful sip.
“Thanks,” he murmured, voice muffled by the glass.
He munched on one or two crackers and took another mouthful of water before sitting still again, not quite knowing what to do with Jungkook next to him. It sort of hurt to see; Jungkook was used to a nurturing, affectionate Jimin who always put his arm around him, who always found a reason to smile at him.
“Are you all right?” Jungkook finally asked.
After a few seconds, Jimin lifted his head and gazed at him—deep into him, as if Jungkook could provide him answers to questions he was too afraid to ask. But why would he need to, when Jungkook had been clear in everything he felt for him?
Jungkook moved his hand across his back and around his waist, caressing him before pulling him closer. He meant for the gesture to be calming, but Jimin gulped apprehensively and turned away.
Jungkook couldn’t help uttering his name to catch his gaze again; he always wanted Jimin’s attention, even when he looked away for just a second. He grew addicted to it.
“What?” Jimin whispered. Their faces were close, and Jimin let the tips of their noses touch. But no more.
“You already know,” Jungkook huffed softly.
“Jungkook-ah.” There was a teasing lilt in the utterance. “I’m drunk.”
It always seemed to turn out that way—one sober, one drunk, neither moving forward because of it.
“I…” Jungkook started. He didn’t know what to say, but he knew he needed to getsomething out.
As if catching himself, Jimin pulled away. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, suddenly sounding much more tired.
Jungkook didn’t know what else to do other than to brush his hand against Jimin’s side, urging him to stretch out onto his lap. He thought he saw a small smile on his hyung’s face when his form curled around him.
Jungkook sighed long and deep, letting his heart slow to normalcy. He was only partially successful. Jimin had a way of eliciting feverish attraction in Jungkook, even inebriated.
He stared at the lip balm imprint on his glass, at its perfect curvature. He reached for it to inspect the clear marks up close, imagining the thick imprint on his skin instead.
Absently, longingly, he pressed his own lips over it. He drank none of the water left in the glass.
When will you let me love you?
Just then, he heard the door open. He jumped, quickly setting the glass back down before craning his neck to find Namjoon and Yoongi stepping into the living room. The latter wandered off with no more than a lethargic goodnight, but Namjoon remained. His eyes fell on Jimin first, then on Jungkook. His jaw tensed.
“Here, let me take him back to bed,” he said to Jungkook, one arm extended.
Jungkook didn’t know how the possessiveness came over him. He just knew he wasn’t having anything tonight; he didn’t want Jimin near Namjoon—none of the group leader’s commanding looks and clinging grasps.
“No, I—,” Jungkook began, soft but firm, clutching Jimin tighter. Mine. He’s mine. What you had with him is over. “I’ll take him to bed.”
He dared himself a glance at Namjoon and was met with a challenging, knowing look.
“I think I know how to take care of him,” Namjoon told him.
“Are you saying I can’t?”
“Of course not, but…” Namjoon trailed off, not knowing what else to say without addressing the elephant in the room.
Just then, they both heard a tiny groan from Jungkook’s lap.
Jungkook’s heart skipped a beat, eyes shooting down as Jimin curled into him, face burying in his stomach.
“Jungkookie,” came a mumble, whining for peace and quiet.
The maknae’s heart melted instantly, and suddenly, he forgot all about Namjoon; all he thought of was the soft pine in Jimin’s voice and the warmth of his body pressing against him.
He heard a scoff from above him.
“Fine, Jungkook-ah.” Namjoon lost the bite in his tone; perhaps there was a bit of defeat in it instead. He looked to the ground, an unreadable expression on his face. “Take him to bed.”
Jungkook’s fiery clinginess faded, replaced by warm guilt for his selfishness. He averted his eyes.
He didn’t look up when Namjoon silently trudged off to bed, his eyes boring into Jimin instead.
Jimin made a lot of things complicated, but he was worth all of it.
Jungkook tucked his arms under him and stood up. Instantly, Jimin whimpered and wound his arms around his shoulders, pulling himself closer. Safer.
Jungkook lost his breath for a second; several, even. Maybe. He didn’t exactly know, but time seemed to stop, his heartbeats shaking his ribs to an aching sore.
He nuzzled Jimin’s neck with a gentle inhale.
Jiminnie-hyung. This was the scent he loved and missed—the one he surrounded himself with when homesick, full of the familiarity that kept him protected.
No trace of Namjoon.
“Jungkook-ah?”
“You’re going to bed, hyung,” Jungkook murmured.
He felt Jimin nod slowly. He clung tighter as Jungkook carried Jimin to his room. Jungkook’s heart continued to cling, too; it needed Jimin more than ever, and here he was, right here in his arms, in his most honest, unguarded state.
Taehyung and Hoseok were still out, and Jungkook didn’t think he could carry Jimin up to his bunk safely, so he laid his hyung on to Hoseok’s bed situated across from the bunk beds.
Jungkook took a step back. He was set on leaving, but it didn’t take long for Jimin to feel the loss of warmth.
“Jungkook-ah…” he whimpered, eyes blinking, barely open as they tiredly searched for him.
And just like that, Jungkook was back at his side.
His leaned over, heart racing as he touched Jimin’s chin. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s cold.”
“Here, use the blan—” He stopped when Jimin fisted the hem of his shirt.
“Stay.”
“You’re drunk.”
“We’re just sleeping.” Jimin crept closer until his lips hovered just centimeters away. Jungkook’s entire body tingled. “Like we always do.”
Their habit. Their normal.
Jungkook realized why being drunk or not mattered–Jimin didn’t want another him and Namjoon. He wanted their love to develop as sharp as the finest needle.
Jungkook never did well in resisting Jimin, and it wasn’t going to be any different now. He loved him, in a mad, greedy way that pushed Namjoon out of the picture without a second thought.
“Okay,” he whispered. “Just sleep.”
Jungkook was roused awake by someone’s heel digging into his ass around an hour or two later.
He cried out in pain, rolling into Jimin, who woke up, too.
“That’s my bed,” Hoseok muttered, annoyed.
“I know, hyung,” Jungkook said in a strained voice, rubbing his buttocks and blinking rapidly up at him and Taehyung, who stood just behind Hoseok.
“Then what are you doing in it?”
“Couldn’t carry Jiminnie-hyung up to his.”
“Why would—” Hoseok frowned a bit. “He drank, didn’t he? With whom?”
“By myself,” Jimin piped up groggily. “Leave Jungkookie alone.”
“No,” Hoseok said with a snort. “Both of you are getting off my bed.”
With more scolding and a whack or two against their shoulders, Jungkook and Jimin finally dragged themselves off Hoseok’s bed.
Jungkook was watching Jimin climb into his bunk when he stopped, brows furrowed as he stared at the top rung of the ladder.
“Jungkook…” he breathed, but said nothing else. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to; maybe it was meant to be an unfinished utterance, filled with what-ifs and shouldn’ts.
But how long would it take for Jimin to let this be something, whatever it was? Jungkook didn’t want to wait. Sure, he was selfish, but he was so sure of what laid between them that he couldn’t help speaking up.
“Do you need me up there with you, hyung?” he asked softly.
Jimin regarded him with a thoughtful bite of his bottom lip. “Well, I mean—I haven’t… been sleeping well lately.”
Ah.
Jungkook managed a tiny smirk. “Because I’m not there.”
Jimin closed his eyes with a relenting sigh.
“Because you’re not there,” he agreed.
Once Jungkook joined him in bed, Jimin allowed himself to cuddle against Jungkook’s figure, smelling faintly of sweet-scented shampoo from this morning and nothing—no one—else.
Being in his own room felt strange after spending most his days doing group activities and most his nights either at work or in Jimin’s bed. The layout felt backwards compared to Jimin’s room; smaller, more suffocating. Cold without his warmth.
"Oh,” said Namjoon as he entered, interrupting Jungkook’s thoughts. He sounded surprised.
“Um—” Jungkook whirled around, wringing his hands with nerves. He didn’t expect him to be home so early in the evening, but he supposed they were due for interaction.
Jungkook had known Namjoon for years and was once comfortable with laying out most of his problems to him as a friend, but he still feared his judgment. Jimin wasn’t an easy topic for either of him, but he had to just deal with it.
“Jungkook, don’t stare at me like that,” Namjoon sighed, giving him a long look of his own. “It’s fine. It’s okay to be with him.”
All Jungkook could manage was a puzzled, “Oh.”
“I think you two love each other more than I could ever fathom loving Jimin,” Namjoon said thoughtfully. “I mean… I’m not sure if love is the right word to define how I feel, but you both have something.”
“Do we?” Jungkook found himself looking off, eyes to the wall, to where Jimin’s room was.
“It’s… beyond anything. Like your souls are connected. And…”
He never finished, but Jungkook knew how it ended.
And how can I compete with that?
“It’s okay to be a bit selfish. You love him, Jungkook-ah. You can’t help it.”
“I—”
“Be with him.”
But Jungkook thought of group cohesiveness. He thought of future tension, imminent grudges. Things that could change the group dynamic simply because he and Jimin loved each other; because Namjoon loved Jimin.
“Jungkook,” Namjoon said firmly; maturely. He set a reluctant but reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I’ll be fine. Bangtan will be fine. Be with him.”
A soft giggle and a pretty smile came to mind, and the way he uttered his name weaved itself warmly and sweetly through his soul.
Even iin his world of insescurities, his demands for perfection, there was only one thing he knew for certain; one thing that was the constant he would always tether himself to that could never change.
Be with him.
And how could he ever say no to that? After all the days spent collapsing in soul-shattering tears and letting his heart burn and blister with its scorching need—how? He loved Jimin with every fiber of his being, and by the grace of all that is great and wonderful, Jimin loved him, too.
And here Namjoon was, giving him his blessing.
His smiles are mine. His laughter, too.
Jimin was genuinely, wholly his, and he will be with him.
Namjoon kept busy with solo variety show appearances, allowing him less time around Jimin, and more time for himself. Namjoon’s feelings for Jimin ebbed with time, and as he had insisted before, he will be fine. So far, he seemed that way. He still had kind, genuine words and dimpled smiles for both Jungkook and Jimin, so hopefully, it was true.
Meanwhile, the new couple shared more than bed space; through tightly entangled limbs, softly brushing lips gliding over each other’s skins, they learned to read each other without needing to say anything, like they were one soul inhabiting two bodies.
And over the days and weeks of being together, utterly in love, Jimin’s new scent became a permanent feature.
“You were always my softest spot,” Jimin randomly said one night as he looked up at Jungkook during a simple but peaceful date by the river. "For the longest time.”
Jungkook let out an acknowledging hum as he picked a falling leaf out of Jimin’s hair.
“I mean, I strung you along, didn’t I?”
He sounded guilty and Jungkook frowned. “Why are you thinking about that?”
Jimin shrugged.
“Hyung, I sprung my feelings on you when I was drunk, remember? I wanted you so bad that I just—” He didn’t really want to go through the details of those sordid moments. “I was just plain selfish when it came to you.”
Jimin shook his head, hands idly playing with the loops of Jungkook’s jeans. “You don’t have to make it sound so bad, Jungkook. I think love is just like that sometimes. For us, anyway.”
Jungkook nosed his way into his neck. “Maybe you’re right.”
Then he breathed in.
“Why do you keep sniffing me?” Jimin giggled, trying to pull away. “It tickles.”
Jungkook clutched him to still his squirming form. “Mm. Armani.”
“What, your cologne?” Jimin retorted, laughing again. “Do you really enjoy your own scent that much?”
Jungkook grinned contentedly and planted a kiss on his neck.
“Yeah,” he replied in a tender, thoughtful voice. “I do.”