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The Era of 35 Cups (2011–2013)
It started in 2011 in a basement that smelled exclusively of damp concrete, laundry detergent, and the broken dreams of teenage boys who couldn't hit a high note. I was fifteen, wide-eyed, and basically a human sponge for muscle memory and social anxiety.
Then I met Kim Seokjin.
He was older, he was ridiculously handsome, and he walked like he owned the air he was breathing. But within ten minutes of meeting him, I realized he was also the most chaotic human being on the planet. He laughed like a windshield wiper and had a confidence that was either inspiring or clinically insane. We clicked instantly. While the other trainees were practicing their "cool guy" glares in the mirror, Jin and I were in the back trying to see who could make the loudest noise with their armpits.
The "incident" happened in 2012, about a year before we debuted as BTS.
We were on a strict trainee diet. I was hungry. Not just "I could eat a snack" hungry, but "I might actually eat the practice room floorboards" hungry. Bang PD had stocked the communal fridge with these tiny, sugar-free, zero-calorie "diet pudding cups." They tasted like sweetened air and sadness.
"Jungkook-ah," Jin said, leaning against the fridge. "Don't do it. Your eyes have that shark look again."
"I'm growing, Jin-hyung. I need sustenance."
"It’s sweetened air, Kook. If you eat too many, you’ll just inflate and float away."
I didn't listen. I sat on the floor of the kitchen and started peeling lids. One. Five. Ten. Jin watched in a mix of horror and genuine scientific curiosity. By cup twenty, he started filming. By cup thirty, he was narrating like a National Geographic presenter.
"And here we see the golden maknae in his natural habitat," Jin whispered to the camera. "He has consumed more gelatinous matter than any mammal in recorded history. His blood is now 40% aspartame."
I finished thirty-five cups. I felt like a water balloon filled with regret.
"You're a monster," Jin said, poking my stomach. It made a squelching sound. "From this day forward, you are the Diet Pudding Cup Boy. That is your legacy. That is your brand."
I groaned, rolling over on the linoleum. "Worth it."
The Evolution of "Puddin" (2013–2019)
We debuted in 2013, and the world got to see the "troublemaker duo" in full effect. On camera, we were professional idols. Off camera, and frequently on camera when the editors gave up, we were a two-man circus.
Jin was my anchor. When the pressure of being the "Golden Maknae" felt like it was crushing my ribs, Jin would show up with a dad joke so bad it actually reset my brain. He’d pull my ears, I’d tackle him into a couch, and for a second, we weren't global superstars; we were just two idiots from 2011.
The nickname, however, would not die.
"Diet Pudding Cup Boy" was a mouthful, even for Jin. Over the years, as we toured the world and played stadiums, the name underwent a linguistic evolution.
2014: "Diet Pudding Boy."
2015: "Pudding Boy."
2017: "Puddin'."
It happened at a fan sign in 2018. A fan asked Jin what he had saved me as in his phone.
"Puddin," Jin said into the microphone, his ears turning that specific shade of strawberry red they get when he’s being mischievous. He looked at me and winked. "He’s my Puddin."
The crowd erupted. The internet, as it is wont to do, lost its collective mind.
"Why do you call him that?" the host asked, laughing.
Jin leaned back, looking smug. "Because he’s soft, sweet, and once consumed thirty-five of them in a single sitting until he almost threw up on my shoes."
The "Puddin" era had begun.
By 2019, it was out of control. The other members, Namjoon, Yoongi, Hobi, Jimin, and Tae had started using it to mock us. If I walked into a room, Yoongi would look up from his laptop and mutter, "Oh look, Puddin's here. Where's his owner?"
"We're just best friends!" I’d yell, throwing a pillow at him.
But then I’d catch myself looking for Jin in every room. I’d notice the way his hand felt on the back of my neck during interviews. I’d realize that when I was tired, my body instinctively gravitated toward his space. We were inseparable. We shared meals, clothes, games, and secrets. But "Puddin"? That felt... different.
The "Brolationship" Crisis (2020)
Then came the year the world stopped. The pandemic hit, the tour was cancelled, and we were stuck in our own heads.
Jin and I spent most of our time in the "In the SOOP" era, which basically meant we were outdoors, being chaotic, and domestic as hell. One night, we were sitting by a fire. I was nursing a drink, and Jin was staring at the flames, looking unusually pensive.
"Kook," he said.
"Yeah, Jin-hyung?"
"The fans. The staff. Even my mom."
"What about them?"
"They all think we're dating," he said. He turned to look at me. The firelight was doing things to his face that should have been illegal. "I mean, I call you Puddin. You follow me around like I have a magnet in my pocket. We spent four hours yesterday debating whether a straw has one hole or two."
"It has one hole, Jin. It’s a topology thing."
"See! This is what couples do!" He waved his hands frantically. "We're in a weird spot, Jungkook-ah. I've been thinking about the terminology."
I felt my heart do a weird, caffeinated thud against my ribs. "The terminology?"
"Yeah," he said, leaning in. He looked me dead in the eye, his expression a mix of 100% sincerity and 200% Jin-brand absurdity. "Are we in a relationship? Or are we in a brolationship?"
I stared at him. The silence stretched. A cricket chirped somewhere.
"A brolationship," I repeated slowly.
"Yeah. Like, are we just bros who are suspiciously close and call each other dessert names? Or are we... you know. Doing the thing."
I looked at him, really looked at him. I thought about the last years. I thought about the pudding cups. I thought about how the thought of him dating anyone else made me feel like I’d swallowed a bag of hot coals.
I shrugged, trying to keep my voice steady. "I mean... if you wanna date, that’s cool with me."
I expected him to laugh. I expected him to tell a joke about how his standards were too high or how he was "World Wide Handsome" and therefore out of my league.
Instead, Kim Seokjin, the man who usually takes ten minutes to decide what to eat for lunch, acted with the speed of a professional gamer.
He grabbed the front of my hoodie, pulled me forward, and straight up kissed me.
It wasn't a "bro" kiss. It wasn't a "we're joking for the camera" kiss. It was a "I’ve been waiting since the thirty-fifth pudding cup" kiss.
When he pulled back, his ears were practically glowing. He looked at me, breathless, and said, "Okay. Relationship it is. But I'm still calling you Puddin."
"LMAO," I said. (I actually said the letters out loud because I didn't know how to process my emotions). "Okay, Jin. Relationship it is."
The Pudding Anniversary (2021–2025)
The transition from "best friends who are inseparable" to "boyfriends who are inseparable" was surprisingly seamless, mostly because we were already doing 90% of the work.
However, being who we are, global idols with a massive, mostly female fanbase, we knew we couldn't exactly walk onto a stage and drop a formal "we're dating" press release. The industry, the expectations, the sheer scale of the world’s attention... it was a lot. So, we decided to do what we’ve always done best: be the absolute troublemakers of BTS.
Instead of a bold announcement that would have set the internet on fire in a way even we couldn't control, we leaned into the chaos. We upped the bickering, the "Puddin" jokes, and the clinginess to a level where the fans just accepted it as "Jin and Kook being weird again." By being loud and mischievous, we actually found a strange kind of privacy. We could hang out, stay together, and be closer than ever without the world freaking out, because they just saw us as the inseparable duo they’d always known.
The hardest part was telling the members. We sat them down in the dance studio. Namjoon looked like he was expecting a lecture on financial investments. Yoongi looked like he wanted to be asleep.
"So," Jin started, clearing his throat. "Jungkook and I have an announcement."
"If you're pregnant, I'm leaving the group," Yoongi muttered.
"We're dating," I said, blurting it out.
There was a long silence. Jimin sighed and handed Hobi twenty dollars.
"Wait," I said. "You guys had a bet?"
"Since 2015, Kook," Tae said, shaking his head. "Honestly, we thought the 'Puddin' thing was the official launch. We’ve been acting like you were a couple for years. We were just waiting for you two to figure it out."
"I told you the brolationship talk would work," Jin whispered to me, looking immensely proud of himself.
Those years were a blur of happiness. Even through military service, our "troublemaker" bond held us together. We sent each other letters that were mostly just drawings of pudding cups and inside jokes. We came back, we reunited, and through it all, "Puddin" remained. It became our secret language. In a crowded room, if Jin was feeling overwhelmed, he’d just catch my eye and mouth 'Puddin'. It meant I’m here, you’re here, we’re okay.
Still Together, Still Chaotic (2026)
So, here we are. It’s 2026.
The world is different. We’re older, maybe a little wiser, though if you saw us yesterday trying to see how many grapes we could fit in our mouths at once, you’d disagree with the "wiser" part.
We’re still together. In case anyone asks (and they always do), I love Jin more than I love winning at Overwatch, more than I love banana milk, and yes, even more than I loved those thirty-five diet pudding cups.
Jin is currently in the kitchen. I can hear him singing at the top of his lungs, belt-shouting "Hooligan" from our new album Arirang, one of the tracks I co-wrote. He always sings it louder when he knows I'm listening. He’s making dinner, which usually means he’s making a mess that I’ll have to clean up later while he tells me a joke about a cow with no legs.
"Puddin!" he yells from the other room. "Do we have any garlic?"
"Check the second drawer, Jin-hyung!"
"I checked! It's not there! It's vanished! Like my youth!"
I walk into the kitchen. The garlic is sitting right on the counter. I pick it up and hand it to him. He grins, that wide, handsome, ridiculous grin that still makes my stomach do backflips.
"Thanks, Puddin," he says, leaning in to peck me on the nose.
I look at him, my best friend, my roommate, my bandmate, my boyfriend, my "brolationship" partner. I think about that 15-year-old kid in the basement with the 35 cups of pudding and the 20-year-old guy.
People always say our "getting together" story is the best. They say we "won" at life. And honestly? Looking at him trying to juggle three cloves of garlic while humming our debut song?
I think they’re right.
I took the leap, he caught me (after calling me a dork), and we never looked back.
Life is sweet. Just like pudding.
The End.