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You weren't my drug, you were my meditation.
Homesickness.
It was an unfamiliar feeling — rare, despondent, unwelcome. But whenever it flooded Jungkook's system, it never failed to render him vulnerable and melancholic, no matter how much time had hardened him. Today was one of those days, unfortunately. The waves of Busan wouldn't stop playing in the back of his eyelids like an excruciating montage.
The buzz of the neon lights outside INKREDIBLE was the only sound Jungkook heard when he locked up for the night. The city had quieted down to that peculiar Seoul lull — still alive, just muffled, like a sleeping beast that never truly stopped breathing.
His stomach gave a loud, painful growl.
He sighed, stuffing his hands into his pockets and tilting his face to the sky, where low clouds had started to gather. Shit. Rain?
He quickened his steps down the familiar block, the glowing GS25 sign promising cheap ramen and maybe a packet of honey-butter chips if he was feeling indulgent. Which he was. He hadn’t eaten all day — tattoo appointments had run back-to-back, and he didn’t even realize it until he nearly fainted standing up after finishing his last design.
But just before he turned the corner, footsteps slowing near the alley that cut behind the old pharmacy, he heard it.
A sound.
A whimper.
Faint. Fragile.
Puppy?
Jungkook stopped in his tracks. The drizzle had begun, soft and cold against the back of his neck.
He turned.
There it was again — a low, wet whine, followed by a shaky, almost pained yip.
His pulse picked up. The alley was dark, but he stepped toward it anyway, phone flashlight on.
Then he saw it.
Curled up in a corner between two dumpsters, barely visible against the wet concrete, was a small dog — no more than a few months old, maybe less. It was trembling violently, matted with filth, fur stuck to its frail body in uneven patches. One eye looked swollen. Its ribs pressed sharply against its damp skin.
Jungkook’s chest squeezed.
Fuck.
He crouched slowly, making himself small, holding one palm up like a peace offering.
“Hey, buddy,” he murmured. His voice was softer than he thought it would be. “It’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you.”
The pup whimpered again but didn’t move.
Jungkook stayed there for a moment, kneeling in the rain, letting it soak through the back of his hoodie, as he looked up emergency shelters nearby.
One place popped up: Dalbit Shelter.
Open 24/7. 1.8 km away.
He tapped the number, barely noticing the cold anymore.
It rang once.
Twice.
Click.
“Dalbit Shelter, this is Park Jimin speaking. How may I help you?”
Jungkook’s heart did something stupid.
The voice — it was so… kind. Clear. Mellifluous.
Like warmth made audible.
And Jungkook hadn’t heard a kind voice all day. Maybe all week. The voice alone had managed to make Jungkook's heart race pretty intensely, as if he had just run a marathon.
Park Jimin.
What a sweet name. Perfect for that ethereal voice. Jungkook placed his palm over his chest, feeling his heart thud against it. He was clearly caught off guard by this man on the other end, whom Jungkook was sure was just as visually stunning as his honeyed voice.
“Uh, hi,” he said, a little breathlessly. “I— Sorry. I just found this puppy. In an alley near Bongcheon-dong. It’s—it’s really not in good shape. I don’t know what to do. I can’t leave it here.”
There was a pause on the other end. Then the voice softened further, like velvet laced with quiet urgency.
“You did the right thing by calling, sir. Kindly stay with the puppy, don’t try to move him yet. I’ll be there in 15.”
🐾
Jimin arrived exactly in 13.
A small white van with the DALBIT logo pulled up gently beside the alley entrance. The driver side door opened before the engine even stopped.
And then—
Jungkook saw him.
Pale yellow raincoat. Soft, chestnut hair flattened slightly by the hood. A pair of silver earrings, one dangling from his left ear, catching the light from the street lamp. He was holding a pet carrier in one hand, and a compact medical kit in the other.
Even under the harsh streetlight, he looked like he didn’t belong to this world. He looked like—
An angel.
Jungkook had no other word for it. Despite racking his brain, Jungkook quickly realised that he had never seen a person this beautiful in twenty-three years of his life. He was simply gorgeous. Jungkook's hunch had turned out to be painfully accurate. The man in front of him had surpassed every expectation — somehow even more stunning than his voice had implied.
A gorgeous man with a powerful name and the most tender voice? What a lethal combination.
“You must be the caller. I'm Park Jimin, sir.” Jimin said gently, smiling politely. “Is the pup still there?”
Jungkook nodded, guiding him wordlessly to the alley, watching in a daze how carefully Jimin approached the pup — how he murmured gentle reassurances, not unlike Jungkook had earlier, except his tone was practiced and soothing in a way that felt like home.
The puppy didn’t resist.
Didn’t even cry when Jimin touched him.
Within minutes, the pup was swaddled in a soft towel and placed securely inside the carrier. Jimin looked up, brushing a soaked strand of hair away from his face.
“You probably saved his life tonight.”
Jungkook blinked, trying hard to appear composed even though he was anything but. “I didn’t… I mean, I just found him.”
“Still,” Jimin said, smiling again. “You stopped. A lot of people don’t.”
The rain had let up slightly by then. The world around them was quiet again. Only the hum of the shelter van, the distant honk of a cab, the smell of wet pavement in the air.
Jimin’s words lingered in the air like mist.
“You stopped. A lot of people don’t.”
Jungkook looked at him — really looked — and felt something unfurl slowly in his chest, warm and unfamiliar.
He glanced down at the closed pet carrier, at the soft towel containing a fragile bundle of fur, then back up again, hesitating.
“Would it… would it be alright if I came with you?” he asked, voice barely above the sound of the rain against the van. “Just to the shelter. I—I want to make sure he’s okay," then, he added with a touch of desperation, "I wouldn't be able to sleep tonight otherwise."
That part was true.
But it wasn’t the whole truth.
He didn’t know how to say that the quiet steadiness in Jimin’s presence was doing something to him. That the night felt too soft to break away from just yet. That the way Jimin had smiled — so gently, like he meant it — had curled somewhere behind Jungkook’s ribs and stayed there.
Jimin turned toward him with a look that made Jungkook’s chest ache.
“Of course,” he said, his voice as kind as it had been on the phone. “He’d probably feel safer with the person who found him, anyway. And I wouldn't mind the company.”
Jungkook’s breath caught a little. He tried not to show how much that last part affected him.
Jimin didn’t say it like a favor. He said it like it mattered that Jungkook came along.
They walked to the van side by side, their steps quiet, not rushed. Jungkook tried not to stare, but failed miserably.
There was something in the way Jimin moved — quietly competent, but unassuming. Like he didn't know he was beautiful. Like he didn't know that his voice had lodged itself into Jungkook's brain like a song he couldn't stop humming.
Jimin opened the passenger door for him, like it was the most natural thing to do.
That small act — so simple, so instinctive — made Jungkook's throat go dry. It had been so long since anyone had done something like that for him without expecting anything in return.
Jungkook ducked in, careful not to drip too much rainwater on the seats, and settled into the warmth of the small cabin. The space smelled faintly of fresh linen and something herbal, faintly citrus and something floral — maybe Jimin’s hand cream or cologne, maybe something more uniquely him.
Jimin placed the carrier on a cushioned mat in the back, checked the pup with practiced hands, checked the lach twice, then got into the driver’s seat.
Seatbelt clicked.
Soft engine hum.
No urgency. Just comfort.
Jungkook snuck a glance as Jimin pulled away from the curb — the slope of his nose, the curve of his mouth, the way his hair clung damply to his forehead. His expression was calm. Focused. Gentle.
Everything about him was gentle. And God, was he exceptionally beautiful.
Jungkook tried not to stare at his profile.
Tried not to notice the way the tip of Jimin's nose was still a little pink from the cold. Or how his fingers curved gently around the steering wheel like they were used to holding fragile things.
He failed.
“You do this often?” Jungkook asked, almost in a whisper. There was something uncharacteristic swirling in his eyes as they shyly gazed at Jimin, something akin to fondness. “Midnight rescues?”
Jimin smiled faintly, his eyes still on the road. “Not often. But… enough to know I should always keep a towel and a kettle in the back.”
Jungkook blinked, amused. “A kettle?”
“For tea,” Jimin said, like it was obvious. “Sometimes they come in shivering. People too.”
Jungkook let out a quiet breath of laughter — the kind that’s more enthralled than casual interest. His fingers rested on his knee, tapping unconsciously to the rhythm of the wipers.
“You’re… good at this, Jimin-ssi,” he said, after a moment. Loving the way that precious name tasted so sweet on his tongue. “Helping.”
Jimin glanced over, just for a heartbeat. And smiled again — smaller this time, like it meant more.
“Thank you." Then he added softly, "And thank you for stopping. You did a good job. Very well done.”
Jungkook looked down at his hands, heart skittering again. It was starting to feel like everything Jimin said landed right in the centre of his chest.
"Of course." He replied softly, hoping his own voice and words could caress Jimin's heart tenderly, slightly biting his tongue to stop the 'anything for you, Jimin-ssi' from escaping.
The van turned left, the streetlamps casting gentle gold patterns across the dashboard.
Outside, the city exhaled.
Inside, something like peace settled between them.
Jungkook wasn’t sure what time it was. He wasn’t even sure what tomorrow would look like.
But right now — in this moment, in this van, beside this pretty stranger with a voice like a lullaby —
he didn’t feel homesick at all.
🐾
The shelter wasn’t far — maybe a five-minute drive — but Jungkook wouldn’t have minded if it took all night. The van was warm, Jimin’s voice still lingering in the air between them, and outside, the city blurred into puddles of light.
When they pulled into the small gravel lot in front of the Dalbit Shelter, Jungkook felt a surprising twist of nerves in his stomach — like he was walking into a stranger’s home rather than a public place. But maybe that was it: Jimin made it feel like something personal. Something close.
The shelter lights were soft, golden, welcoming. Jimin unlocked the door with a gentle beep, flipping the switch inside. A low, comforting glow lit up the space — clean white tiles, gentle pastel walls, small dog beds and blankets neatly arranged, and shelves lined with medicines, treats, and folded towels. A small calendar hung near the desk, covered in doodles and tiny heart stickers.
It was quiet — peaceful. The kind of place that made you want to take a deep breath and stay a while.
Jungkook followed Jimin wordlessly as he carried the tiny Doberman pup — now wrapped more securely in a fleece towel — into the medical bay at the back.
“You can sit, if you’d like,” Jimin said gently, nodding toward the cushioned bench in the corner.
Jungkook nodded, slowly sinking onto it. But he didn’t look away.
He watched.
Jimin moved with a kind of practiced tenderness — precise, but soft. He washed his hands, warmed a heating pad, adjusted the towel gently. He whispered soothing words to the puppy like it was second nature. Checked his eyes. Cleaned the swollen one. Applied ointment. Measured vitals. Listened to his tiny heartbeat.
“Doberman,” Jimin said softly at one point, glancing over his shoulder. “Still a baby, probably just two months old. Malnourished, but no fractures. We’ll get him stable tonight. I’ll monitor for internal trauma.”
Jungkook said nothing.
He couldn’t. He could only offer a gentle nod in return.
His throat felt tight again.
There was something achingly beautiful about watching Jimin work — like he was made for this. Every touch was gentle. Every motion full of purpose. His brow furrowed with focus, his lips set with concern. He didn’t even seem aware of how magnetic he was.
Jungkook’s heart, which had already been misbehaving, had fully stopped pretending to behave.
He didn’t realize he was staring until Jimin looked up again, peeling off his gloves, voice softer now.
“He’ll be okay,” Jimin said assuringly. “Thank you once again for finding him.”
And just like that — Jungkook’s heart fluttered like it was the one Jimin had just checked for rhythm.
"My pleasure, Jimin-ssi." His voice had never sounded that affectionate before.
There was a pause.
A quiet, gentle one — the kind that asked to be filled, but not rushed.
“You're still drenched,” Jimin said softly, his gaze settling with concern over the raven haired boy who had yet to give his name. “Wait right here.”
He disappeared inside for a few seconds before emerging again, holding a small folded towel and a plastic-wrapped black hoodie — the DALBIT logo printed in soft white across the front.
Jungkook blinked up at him, startled but utterly enchanted. “Oh—”
“Here,” Jimin offered the towel first, his voice as light as the falling rain outside. “Dry off a bit. You’ll catch a cold like this.”
Jungkook took the towel slowly, their fingers brushing for a heartbeat — enough to make him forget how wet or cold he actually was. He pressed the towel to his face and hair, his eyes never leaving Jimin’s.
“I also have a clean hoodie,” Jimin added, holding it out gently. “It’s new. Size M, I think. You can change inside if you want. Or layer it.”
Jungkook stared at him, towel paused midway on his temple. “You're offering me your shelter's hoodie.”
Jimin laughed under his breath, a small curve of his lips. “Technically, it's mine. I paid for it during our last fundraiser. But yes.”
There was a quiet moment where Jungkook simply looked at him — the soft slope of his shoulders, the rain-cooled pink of his lips, the warmth he carried even in the damp air.
“Thank you,” Jungkook said eventually, his voice low, grateful and sincere. “You're… very kind, Jimin-ssi.”
Jimin shrugged, a little shy. “It’s just a hoodie.”
“No,” Jungkook said, gaze dipping to the hoodie, then back up to Jimin, his eyes shining with a whirlwind of emotions. “It's not.”
A heartbeat. Then another.
And before he could stop himself — before he could think better of it — Jungkook asked softly,
“Have you had dinner?”
Jimin blinked.
Then smiled.
“Not yet,” he said, almost sheepishly, like it was a small confession. “Got the call before I could heat anything up.”
Jungkook’s lips tugged upward — involuntarily.
A strange sense of… delight spread through him, warm and almost boyish. Maybe it was the fact that Jimin hadn’t eaten either. Maybe it was the fact that he could fix that.
Maybe it was just the excuse he needed.
He sat up a little straighter. Let the boldness slip in gently, like an offering.
“Would you… like to come with me?” he asked. “To the convenience store. For some dinner.”
He tried to sound casual, easy, but his fingers curled slightly into the fabric of his jeans.
Jimin tilted his head, eyes searching Jungkook’s for a moment — not suspicious, just curious. Then the corners of his mouth curved.
“…Sure,” he said. “That sounds nice.”
Jungkook exhaled, just a little. The sheer joy he felt at Jimin's affirmation was astronomical.
And finally — after everything, after being struck silent by a voice, then a face, then a quiet kindness so rare it nearly undid him — he found his voice again.
“I’m Jeon Jungkook, by the way,” he said softly, standing beside him now.
A genuine, heartfelt smile.
A hand nervously shoved into a pocket.
“I think you’ve introduced yourself twice already.”
Jimin laughed, light and soft. “I was starting to wonder if you were going to keep that a mystery.”
“I was trying,” Jungkook admitted, cheeks flushed pink. Goodness gracious, he was wholly besotted by this angelic man in front of him, and instead of feeling terrified of the overwhelming feeling, all Jungkook felt was exquisite elation. Jimin was euphoria personified. “But you made it hard.”
Jimin smiled — wide now, brighter than before — and something about it lit up the shelter more than the lights ever could.
“Nice to meet you, Jungkook-ssi.”
"Nice to meet you too, Jimin-ssi." The adoration that laced Jungkook's voice and demeanor in general was poorly veiled.
And with that, they stepped back out into the Seoul night — two strangers, warm from a quiet rescue and something even gentler beginning to stir between them.
The rain had almost stopped.
But Jungkook had a feeling he wouldn’t be sleeping much tonight anyway.
🐾
The air was cool and a little damp as they stepped out of the shelter, side by side. Jimin had shrugged on a slightly oversized navy hoodie — not his own, Jungkook realized belatedly, but one from the staff rack near the door. It made him look even smaller, somehow. Softer.
Jungkook held the umbrella above them, careful to tilt it slightly more toward Jimin without making it obvious. Every now and then, he’d glance sideways to check if Jimin’s hair was dry. Just to be sure. Just because.
They walked in easy silence down the quiet street, heading toward the glowing GS25 Jungkook had meant to visit earlier, before the night had upended itself in the best way possible.
The city had gone quiet again — that peculiar Seoul lull returning, where everything felt like it was holding its breath.
Inside the convenience store, the fluorescent lights buzzed low and steady. Jimin let out a soft hum, more of a content exhale, and Jungkook tried not to stare as he watched Jimin wander gently through the aisles — fingers grazing ramen cups, eyes scanning the kimbap selections with quiet delight.
“Do you like spicy foods?” Jungkook asked, hovering near the instant noodles.
Jimin smiled. “Only if there’s cheese to balance it out.”
“Got it,” Jungkook said, immediately reaching for two hot chicken ramens and a packet of sliced mozzarella. “We’re getting these.”
Jimin laughed. “You sound very sure of your choices.”
“I’m a professional,” Jungkook said solemnly, then added with a grin, “in the culinary art of late-night suffering.”
That made Jimin laugh again, head tilted back slightly, the sound delicate and open. Jungkook turned away quickly under the pretense of grabbing drinks, biting back a smile. God, he was gorgeous when he laughed like that. Jungkook had to physically tell himself to focus.
They paid, grabbed two pairs of disposable chopsticks, and took their steaming trays to the tiny table outside — one of those plastic setups meant for cigarette breaks and quick meals. It wasn’t glamorous. But it felt perfect. The rain had ceased by now.
Before sitting, Jungkook instinctively reached over and brushed a napkin over Jimin’s chair, wiping off the leftover raindrops. He didn’t even think about it. Jimin noticed, though, his expression softening immensely.
“Thank you, Jungkook-ssi,” he murmured, settling in.
Jungkook just gave him a crooked little smile. “Can’t have you catching a cold. Not on my watch.”
They sat across from each other, knees almost touching, steam rising between them as the night wrapped around the edges like a blanket.
Jungkook slurped his noodles, then motioned toward Jimin with his chopsticks. “So. Jimin-ssi. Literature, huh?”
Jimin dabbed at his lips with a napkin and smiled. “Final year of my master’s. SNU.”
Jungkook blinked, erupting with pride for Jimin. “Damn. That’s impressive.”
“It’s stressful at times,” Jimin admitted, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “But I love it. Words feel like home, like... transcendence.”
Jungkook nodded slowly, watching him like he was something written in cursive. “You talk like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like poetry,” Jungkook said simply. “Even when you’re just telling me about ramen preferences.”
Jimin flushed, gaze dropping to his kimbap. “That’s… a first.”
Jungkook chuckled. “Well. You’re full of firsts tonight.”
Jimin glanced up at him — that same curious softness in his gaze. “What about you?”
“Hmm?”
“You own a tattoo studio?”
Jungkook grinned, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of the borrowed DALBIT hoodie. “Yeah. INKREDIBLE. Just opened six months ago.”
“In Bongcheon-dong?”
“Right below my studio apartment,” Jungkook said, reaching for a can of grape soda. “You should come by sometime.”
Jimin raised an eyebrow, lips curving. “Is that an invitation?”
Jungkook didn’t even hesitate. “Definitely.”
Jimin looked down, smiling into his kimbap. “You’re very…”
“Forward?” Jungkook offered, laughing. “Sorry. I swear I’m not usually like this.”
“No,” Jimin said, eyes crinkling. “I was going to say charming.”
Jungkook nearly choked on his soda.
Their eyes lingered, the moment stretching — something delicate forming between them, tentative but warm.
Jungkook cleared his throat, looking for safe ground. “So you moved to Seoul for college?”
Jimin nodded. “When I was eighteen. Nakseongdae’s been home since then. Small studio. Nothing fancy.”
“I moved here just six months ago,” Jungkook said. “Busan was home before.”
Jimin blinked. “Me too.”
“What?”
“Busan. Born and raised.”
Jungkook stared. “You’re kidding.”
Jimin shook his head, a soft laugh spilling out. “Small world.”
“No wonder,” Jungkook murmured, almost to himself.
Jimin tilted his head. “No wonder?”
“No wonder I felt… weirdly safe the moment I heard your voice.” Jungkook’s eyes held his now, not flinching. “Like it already knew the shape of home.”
Jimin blinked once. Then again.
Something flickered in his expression — not surprise, not discomfort. Just something deeply felt.
“You talk like poetry, too,” he said quietly.
They sat like that for a beat, hearts in their throats, steaming noodles forgotten.
Then, with a small smile, Jimin leaned back and picked up his grape soda. “So, Jeon Jungkook, midnight poet and tattoo artist — what are we naming the pup?”
Jungkook blinked, caught off guard. “Me?”
“You found him,” Jimin said gently. “You saved him. He’s yours to name.”
Jungkook stared down at his hands. The image of the trembling pup curled between dumpsters flashed in his mind — followed by the way Jimin had held him, so delicately.
“Bam,” he said softly. “Let’s call him Bam.”
Jimin looked at him.
Jungkook offered a small, shy smile. “Means ‘night’ in Korean. And it’s what I’ll remember every time I think of this one.”
Jimin’s lips parted, eyes softening impossibly. “Bam,” he echoed, as if trying it out. “That’s perfect.”
The warmth in his voice made Jungkook’s chest ache.
They returned to their food then, not saying much — but everything was already said in the quiet glances, the easy laughter, the shared warmth between them.
At some point, Jungkook took off the hoodie entirely and draped it over the back of Jimin’s chair. “Just in case you get cold.”
“I’m already wearing a hoodie,” Jimin laughed.
“Yeah, but it’s not mine,” Jungkook said easily, flashing a grin. “Let me at least pretend I’m a proper gentleman.”
Jimin raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Are you always like this?”
“Not always,” Jungkook said, leaning his chin on his palm, eyes warm. “But something about you makes me want to be.”
Jimin didn’t look away.
Then, with a soft smile, “How old are you, Jungkook-ssi?”
“Twenty-three,” he said. “You?”
“Twenty-four.”
Jungkook made a dramatic face of mock horror. “Hyung?!”
Jimin burst out laughing. “You don’t have to call me that.”
“But I feel betrayed,” Jungkook said, clutching his heart. “You were giving me same-age vibes.”
Jimin reached over and gently caressed his wrist. “You’re impossible.”
“You’re indulgent,” Jungkook murmured, so quietly Jimin almost missed it.
Jimin just smiled and went back to his food.
The night unfolded slowly, like a secret being shared for the first time.
And though they didn’t know it yet, this would be the start.
Of rescues and ramen.
Of soft smiles and shared silences.
Of two hearts — once familiar with longing — now quietly finding their way home.
Together.
🐾
They tossed their empty wrappers into the nearby trash bin, the warmth of processed convenience food still lingering in their chests — but nothing as warm as the way they looked at each other.
The night was gentler now, like it was watching over them. The air had cooled, but Jungkook hardly noticed the chill when Jimin was standing so close beside him, his soft smile illuminated under the muted streetlights.
"I'll walk you home," Jungkook said — almost like it wasn’t a question.
Jimin blinked, caught off guard by the offer, before a polite chuckle left him. "You really don’t have to. I’d hate to trouble you—"
"It wouldn’t be trouble," Jungkook interrupted, his tone low but firm, gentle. “Honestly, I’d just... feel better knowing you got home safe.”
Jimin paused, eyes searching Jungkook’s face. There was no overstepping, no performance in his voice. Just sincerity — soft and disarming. A pause passed, filled with the sound of far-off traffic and their quiet breaths.
“Okay,” Jimin said softly. “I’d like that.”
The walk to Jimin’s apartment wasn’t long, but time seemed to slow around them anyway. They didn’t talk much — didn’t need to. They simply existed side by side, like their bodies had known this rhythm for years, like they were walking home together for the hundredth time.
Now and then, their arms brushed. Once, Jungkook gently placed his palm on Jimin’s lower back when they crossed a narrow alley, steadying him with a touch so careful it made Jimin’s stomach flutter.
Jungkook didn’t even realize it, but his body leaned subtly toward Jimin’s with every step — gravitating, orbiting, like he couldn’t help it. And Jimin… Jimin let him.
When they finally reached the small studio building nestled quietly in Nakseongdae, neither of them moved.
Jimin turned toward him, hands tucked into his coat pockets. “Thank you, Jungkook. For tonight. It was...” He trailed off, eyes glinting with something unspoken.
Jungkook met his gaze, breathing slow. “I don’t want to go.”
The words fell out before he could filter them. Not desperate — just honest. Jimin’s heart tugged a little.
Jungkook dropped his gaze for a second and then looked up again, more earnestly this time. “I know this probably sounds crazy, but... I feel like I’ve known you for a long time, Jimin hyung. Like I’m supposed to be here. With you.”
Jimin’s breath hitched, almost imperceptibly.
There was a long silence, only the quiet hum of the city around them. Then, as if to soothe that yearning in Jungkook’s voice, Jimin said comfortingly, “It won’t be a one-time thing.”
Jungkook’s eyes widened just slightly, his heart catching in his throat.
“You can have me again,” Jimin continued softly, “whenever you want. You just have to ask.”
He pulled out his phone, unlocked it, and held it toward Jungkook. Jungkook took it wordlessly, fingers brushing Jimin’s in a featherlight touch that sent shivers down both their spines. After entering his number, Jungkook hesitated.
“Wait—can I get yours too?” he asked, voice low, almost shy. “In case I want to bother you first.”
Jimin smiled, small and warm. “You can bother me anytime.”
He took Jungkook’s phone and tapped his number in, then handed it back. Their fingers brushed again — this time, more deliberately. Neither of them let go right away.
“I’d really like to see you again,” Jungkook said. His voice cracked slightly with restraint. “I mean it. Every day, if I could.”
Jimin smiled, eyes crinkling with tenderness. “Then do.”
Jungkook hesitated, then stepped just half an inch closer, voice hushed like a secret. “You’re beautiful, Jimin hyung. Not just your face — though that’s... unreal. But your energy. I don’t know how to describe it. It’s like...” He struggled, then exhaled. “You feel invincible, somehow. But soft, too. Like moonlight.”
Jimin’s breath left him in a shaky laugh, and he lowered his gaze for just a second before meeting Jungkook’s again. But this time, he didn’t deflect. His voice was low, steady, and full of quiet emotion. “You're too sweet to me, Jungkook-ah,” he said. Jimin looked like he didn't know what to do with such sincerity. Like it scared him in the best way.
They stood like that for a few more beats. A flicker of longing passed between them — a question neither of them dared to act on yet.
Jungkook finally stepped back with reluctance, hands buried in his pockets. “Good night, Jimin hyung.”
Jimin nodded, lips curved into something heartbreakingly tender. “Good night, Jungkook-ah.”
But then — before he turned — Jimin stepped forward. His fingers brushed Jungkook’s raven hair, soft and curious, until they threaded briefly through it.
Jungkook’s eyes fluttered shut at the contact, a quiet gasp leaving his throat, butterflies erupting low in his stomach. His whole body stilled.
Jimin’s hand drifted lower, then up again — delicate fingers tracing the edge of Jungkook’s jaw, then coming to rest lightly against his cheek. Jungkook leaned into it, like he’d been waiting for that touch all night. His lips brushed against Jimin’s palm — barely there, like a whisper, like prayer.
A jolt of something electric passed through both of them. It killed Jungkook to restrain himself. To not kiss that hand, and then every part of him.
Jimin pulled back slowly, his touch lingering even as it left. He didn’t say anything more. He didn’t need to.
Jungkook turned to leave, then stopped halfway down the path. He looked back.
Jimin was still there. Watching him like he wanted to call him back but knew he didn’t need to. The air between them was still humming, still holding them together.
Their eyes met for one last moment, full of something unnamed but undeniable. Then Jungkook smiled — soft, wide-eyed, reverent — and finally walked away.
Jimin stood outside a little longer than he needed to, hand pressed lightly to his chest.
Like maybe, just maybe, something sacred had begun.
As he made his way to his abode, Jungkook felt something reverberate underneath — a kick from his gut, a roar from his instincts. Something analogous to an epiphany.
Jungkook didn’t feel like he was going to fall in love with Jimin just for how Jimin made him feel — he was going to fall for who Jimin was: his gentle competence, his kindness when no one was watching, the way he looked after creatures smaller than himself, the quiet strength that anchored him, the graceful, dignified aura he radiated. All of him — every single part — had bewitched Jungkook: heart, mind, and soul.
And Jungkook was sure he would never find another human being in this lifetime whose heart seemed as beautiful as their face.
Park Jimin was the only one capable of that.
the end.