Chapter Text
March 2, 2006. Thursday.
Jimin doesn’t like kimchi.
He had it everyday for the past few weeks, and until his dad stops being lazy and gets off his b-u-t-t to get something else from the supermarket, it was gonna stay like that. What was so appetizing about kimchi, anyways? Even the name sounded short and boring. Kim-chi. Hello, Mr. Kim Chi, how are you today? Jimin imagined himself shaking hands with a Korean man almost twice the size of him, in a black business suit and a tie with cute little chibi kimchis on it. He was sure this Kim Chi would be the most boring person on earth. Who even likes kimchi?
Taehyung is across the room, talking with one of his other friends. Taehyung is such a twerp. Jimin wonders why he even hangs out with him in the first place. He’s a weirdo. And, he’s always surrounded by his other friends. Jimin barely gets to hang out with him anymore, he’s so popular. Jimin doesn’t like popular kids. But Taehyung is different. He doesn’t want to be popular.
Where are his other friends?
Jimin couldn’t find them.
His kimchi was getting cold in his hands. His mom always yelled at him when he came back with it untouched. So he had to eat it soon. Taehyung once told him to just throw it away without telling her, but Jimin’s not a bad boy. He would rather choke and die on pickled cabbage than become a bad boy. And that’s that.
Jimin noticed a boy sitting alone in the corner. He seemed lonely. Too lonely. Jimin didn’t want anyone to be lonely. He wanted everyone to smile. He absolutely loved it when people smiled. All his teachers had commented on his smile. His parent’s friends’ friends’ parents said they liked his smile (but Jimin didn’t really believe them too much, because one time his dad had told him that they absolutely hated their friends’ parents, and so Jimin knew that they must be bad). But even though he liked all the attention, he especially liked it when they smiled at him. So he had made it a game. How many people could he make smile?
“Hey! Mind if I sit here?”
The boy didn’t reply, which made Jimin a little nervous.
“I’m going to take that as a yes.” And Jimin, true to his words, slipped himself right beside the other kid, who seemed younger than him, but really serious. Jimin wasn’t sure why he was so serious. What was there to be serious about, anyways? The alphabet? Jimin took that back as soon as the thought it. He did always mix up his V’s and W’s, so the ABC’s weren’t as easy as they looked.
“I hate kimchi,” Jimin quipped, stabbing his chopstick through it and wrinkling his nose as the pungent smell wafted over him. “Do you like kimchi? I don’t.”
He didn’t reply. Jimin pretended he had.
“What grade are you in?”
Jimin though that he wouldn’t respond again, but he did, and Jimin was surprised. “Third,” he said, and Jimin found his voice to be cute. Very cute. “Your voice is so cute!”
“Er….” The boy’s cheeks reddened. Maybe Jimin shouldn’t have said that. Oh well.
“I’m in fifth grade. I’m Park Jimin! And I hate kimchi!”
“I know.” He carefully snapped his chopsticks together and picked up a piece of kimbap. Jimin watched his mouth chew slowly, and then he swallowed, looking out the window the whole time. After he had taken his fill, he muttered, his voice surprisingly low for an 8 year old, “I just don’t understand why you’re talking to me. Aren’t you supposed to be with your other fifth grade friends?”
Jimin looked at him, and shoved a piece of kimchi into his mouth, grimacing and swallowing it so that the taste didn’t spread through his mouth. “You see, I can’t find my friends at the moment, so I decided to hang out with you!”
Silence. Jimin found it really awkward. Who could even handle all this quietness? He blinked owlishly at the boy, finding him all not that bad in the long run. Sure, he didn’t talk as much. And yes, he hadn’t even offered Jimin at least one piece of his kimbap, which Jimin would definitely rather eat that what he had right now. And, he was cute! Jimin really wanted to see him smile.
“You’re really cute!”
“What?” the boy stammered, his chopsticks halted midway to his mouth.
“You’re adorable. You really are!” Jimin grinned. But, seeing as the boy wasn’t going to respond, let alone smile at him, he chirped, “Do you have any friends?”
Jimin knew that was rude. But he was just curious, that’s all. He wondered whether the boy ever smiled. What was his smile like? Was it wide and blinding like his? Or small and cute? This boy was special somehow, Jimin could just sense it.
Luckily, the young boy didn’t seem affected by his rude statement. He probably got asked stuff like this a lot because he just replied with a curt, “No.”
“Well, then I can be your friend!”
“Okay.” And then, finally, the boy offered Jimin some of his kimbap.
March 13, 2006. Monday.
Jimin and Jungkook met up at lunch. Jimin didn’t have kimchi this time.
“Do you know what day it is?”
“Monday.”
“I know that, Jungkook… I mean what day day it is.”
“No….” Jungkook raises his eyebrow. Was there something special going on today that he missed? Maybe it was Jimin’s birthday or something? Oh, he definitely didn’t want to forget Jimin’s birthday, darn it. That would be bad. He knew how sensitive he got over all this stuff.
But Jimin just laughs, throwing his head back, tears in his eyes. “It’s White Day, you idiot!”
“White day? What’s that?” Jungkook cocks his head in confusion.
“Oh wait, you really don’t know? It’s when girls give boys chocolate!” Jungkook wasn’t sure what the point of wasting your money for other people’s happiness was, but he stayed silent, watching as Jimin’s cheeks puffed out as he gave him a dazzling smile.
The older boy fiddled with his backpack strings. “Do you like anyone, Kookie?”
Jungkook grimaces at the nickname that he knew Jimin would never let him grow out of. “Uh… you?”
“NO, silly! I mean like like. As in a girl.”
Jungkook wipes his nose on his sleeves, watching Jimin out of the corner of his eyes. “Well, then, I guess, no? Do you like anyone?”
Jimin snorts, bending his head down to dig into his sandwich. “No. Girls are weird.”
June 22, 2006. Thursday.
Thursdays are Jimin’s favorite days, because school ended early and he was free the rest of the time. And plus, the year was almost over, too! Every Thursday was one week closer to leaving. Yeah, he liked school, but everyone gets sick of it once in awhile. Just ask Jungkook. He hated it so much that he once threatened to punch one of the teachers if they ever gave him a hard time with his long division again. Jimin grew a little wary of the boy after that.
“You know, we should have a playdate!”
Jimin watched as Jungkook clutched his books against his chest. He looked so cute. Jimin just wanted to take a hold of his cheeks and just squish them, but Jungkook said he could only do that once every week, and he already used up his free pass today before class.
“What’s a playdate?”
“Yah, Jungkookie, you loser,” Jimin drawled, grinning. Jungkook said nothing in response. “It’s when someone comes to your house to play! It’s a lot of fun, I promise!”
“Okay… your house or mine?” he muttered.
Jimin thinks about it for a moment, his lips stretched into a line, tapping on his chin thoughtfully, like his dad often did when he worked on his dad stuff in his office. “Since you don’t know much about playdates…. How about mine?”
Jungkook nods. Jimin just watches him, a smile on his face, as he waves bye waddles off towards his house, his white t-shirt flapping out from behind him with the wind.
It’s Saturday (finally).
Jungkook is excited. Actually, he’s much more than excited. If there was a word for feeling like he wanted to jump up and down in excitement and throw up at the same time, he would be that word right now. He wasn’t really sure why he felt nervous, but he found himself chewing on his nails at one point of the day (a habit he hadn’t done for like, three years), like his life depended on it. His first playdate. His very first! At Jimin hyung’s, too! Jungkook couldn’t believe his luck.
It's Saturday, and Jungkook’s going to his first play date with the coolest person in the world (though he would never, ever admit that in front of Jimin himself).
And by that, he means ever. Unless he's being held captive or something. Then, maybe he would confess it, just to see Jimin’s stupid little smile right before he dies. Jungkook tries not to think too much about it; to him, he wants to die when he's old and frail, like forty or so. That's really old; Jungkook still has a while to go, he assures himself.
He's scared (Not about the whole death fiasco. About the next best thing, though. Having a freaking sleepover with the coolest person in the world).
But when the door to the big, brown house had swung open, and he was met with Jimin’s beautiful smile, wearing a red Power Rangers t-shirt and black shorts, Jungkook didn't feel as scared anymore. Instead, he tried to wiggle his hand out of his mom’s grasp, which didn't really work because his mom had a grip of steel and shot him a reprimanding look. They had gone over this in the car. He was to first greet Mrs. Park politely, ask her how she is, and then he could do whatever people at sleepovers did.
He didn't want to wait, but he waited anyways.
Park Jimin’s mother appeared from behind the boy, smiling widely, an apron draped over her front and her hands covered with flour. “Hello! You must be Jeon Jungkook!” She grinned sweetly at Jungkook, who was bouncing back and forth on the balls of his feet. “Jimin’s been so excited to see you, he hasn't gotten off my case all morning!”
Jungkook was glad he wasn't the only one happy to see the other. He opened his mouth in a polite smile, and said, just like his mother had told him to: Hello, Mrs. Park, so very nice to meet you! Your hair looks nice today. Even though her hair didn't look nice today.
She looked flustered, which made Jungkook happy. Maybe Mrs. Park would like him. And that would mean he would get to hang out with Jimin more. That would be nice.
Jimin immediately grasped Jungkook’s wrist, and before the other could react, they had ducked under his mother’s arm and were traipsing up the carpeted stairs, all talking and laughter, and Jungkook felt like the happiest boy in the whole world.
“So, tell me about America,” Jimin muttered, moving closer to Jungkook and shifting the position of his head on the younger’s chest.
“What do you mean?” Jungkook looked down at the mop of brown hair that bounced up and down as Jungkook breathed. He usually didn't like physical contact, but with Jimin, it seemed normal. “I only spent like a day there….”
Jimin blinked his eyes owlishly. “Yeah, but like… what are the people like? Do they wear suits everyday? Do they speak gibberish? Are all the kids filthy rich and kinda bratty?”
“Jimin Hyung, they're just like us.”
“Really?” Jimin breathed, his eyes blanking out for a bit, staring up at the ceiling. “Woah….” and then he turned on his side, until he was directly facing Jungkook, his face almost touching Jungkook’s. “When we get older, will you take me to America with you?”
“What?” Jungkook quipped, eyes wide. Go to America with Jimin by his side? He had never really thought of what they would be like when they grew up. Would they still be friends? Well duh. Of course they would be. They would be friends forever and ever, until they turned forty and one of them died. Quietly, Jungkook wondered which one of them would go first. “Like, to see the Statue of Liberty or somethin’?”
Jimin’s mouth was open, at the sudden English that spewed out Jungkook’s mouth. “The what?”
“The Statue of Liberty. It's in New York,” Jungkook said matter-of-factly, playing with the light blue bed sheet that was tugged over the corners of Jimin’s mattress. “It's like….” he stretched out his arms for effect. “That big. Like huuuuge. And it's green.” Apparently, his description worked, because Jimin just seemed to be more interested than ever, and had lifted his head up from Jungkook’s torso to hear more.
“I wanna go there when I grow up.” Jimin was defiant, his face set. “I wanna.”
Jungkook watched him slowly set his head back down, crossing his arms across his chest, lower lip jutting out in a pout. “Er, I-I can take you there, if ya want.”
It's like someone had suddenly flicked on a light over Jimin’s head, because his mouth had opened up wide, threatening to spread out off of his face, his cheeks bunching up and stars dancing in his eyes. His voice was high and a little too emotional, considering all Jungkook had done was offer to come with him. “Really?!” He chirped. “You would do that for me!”
“Well yeah, I mean--” he was cut off by Jimin’s face buried in his neck, a pair of small arms encircling around his body. Jimin felt warm. Jungkook felt happy.
Jimin rested his chin on the boy’s shoulder. “I love you, Jeon Jungkook,” he muttered, smiling into his skin.
Jungkook’s throat went immediately dry at the display of affection. “As-as friends, right?” No chocolate giving on Valentine’s Day, right?
“Yah, you idiot,” Jimin exclaimed, pulling away and slapping Jungkook’s arm lightly. “Duh.”
Jungkook was an idiot. A grinning, blubbering idiot.
It was the first time Jimin had seen him smile.