Work Text:
The Grammy rehearsals had been turning every day into something endless for weeks.
Choreography.
Meetings.
Wardrobe fittings.
Impossible schedules.
Jungkook was tired; they all were. So when Jimin started looking exhausted, nobody thought much of it at first. Not even him.
-You’re falling asleep sitting up -Jungkook commented one night, nudging Jimin’s leg lightly with his foot from the practice room couch.
Jimin barely bothered opening one eye.
-Five minutes.
-You said that half an hour ago.
-Then clearly I’m still in my five minutes.
Normally Jungkook would’ve laughed, but this time he just watched him. Jimin looked bad. Not just tired. Something else was bothering him.
He was too still, too quiet.
Jungkook tossed him a bottle of water. Jimin caught it late, clumsy, and Jungkook immediately hated that. But when he asked if he was okay, Jimin did what he always did: smiled faintly, shrugged, and answered with a short, “I’m just tired.”
The Grammys were less than two months away.
Las Vegas after that.
Press.
Rehearsals.
And fucking COVID still making everything harder.
During practice, Jimin pressed a hand against his abdomen several times, thinking nobody noticed. Jungkook noticed every single one. He also saw the way Jimin smiled immediately afterwards whenever a staff member asked if he was alright.
“I’m just tired”
“I didn’t sleep well”
“I think I ate too fast”
Small lies. Softer versions of something more serious.
Very Park Jimin.
When they got back to Jungkook's apartment that night, Jimin dropped his bag on the floor and leaned against the wall for a few seconds longer than normal.
Jungkook frowned immediately.
-Jimin-ah.
-Mm.
-You’re hurting.
-Not that much.
-We should go to the hospital.
Jimin tried to smile.
-It’s stress.
-We’ve been stressed for ten years. You’ve never looked like this because of stress.
That got a brief laugh out of him, but less than two seconds later Jimin was leaning heavily against the kitchen counter with his eyes closed and barely breathing through the pain.
Something shifted inside Jungkook. Because the pain didn’t look like exhaustion anymore. It looked real.
The managers arrived less than thirty minutes later because Jungkook practically forced everyone to move faster.
Jimin complained the entire drive.
-I’m seriously fine. This isn’t necessary.
-Sure.
-Kook-ah.
-If you say ‘I’m fine’ one more time, I’m gonna...
Jimin looked at him from the backseat, far too pale under the city lights.
-Don’t threaten me in my vulnerable state -he joked.
-Your vulnerable state is exactly the problem -Jungkook shot back through the rearview mirror.
Because yes, Jungkook had decided to drive himself despite their manager showing up with the company car.
Twenty minutes later they were entering the hospital through a side entrance.
Everything still felt strange in 2022.
Masks.
Medical staff almost completely covered.
Temperature checks.
Questions.
Mandatory PCR tests for everyone walking through the hospital doors...
Jungkook barely registered what he answered because all his attention was fixed on Jimin, hunched slightly forward in the wheelchair he’d finally agreed to use after arguing about it for five straight minutes.
-I can walk on my own.
-If we could get to the doctor before New Year’s, that’d be great.
Jimin tried to laugh and immediately doubled over slightly in pain. Jungkook felt his blood run cold because laughing should never cause that kind of reaction.
As soon as they reached the examination room, Jungkook stayed standing in front of Jimin with his arms crossed, unable to sit down.
-Jungkookie…
-Yes?
-You’re scaring people.
-Good.
Jimin smiled tiredly. Even like this, even sick, he still looked at Jungkook like he was the softest thing in the world.
The rest of the staff arrived less than half an hour later.
Managers.
Security.
A silent, efficient coordination that felt painfully HYBE.
Jungkook heard words like “privacy,” “protocols,” “restricted entrance,” but honestly they could’ve been speaking another language. He didn’t care about anything except knowing Jimin was finally being treated.
His manager touched his shoulder gently.
-Jungkook-ssi, you can rest in the temporary room for a bit. We’ll stay here.
Jungkook didn’t even look away from the door.
-No.
-Just while they run some tests...
-No.
Sharp.
Immediate.
He wasn’t moving.
Not when Jimin was behind that door saying he was fine in a voice that clearly said otherwise.
Waiting for the COVID test results was exasperating. When the doctor finally came back, Jungkook stood up so quickly he nearly knocked over the chair.
Positive.
Jimin tested positive.
Negative for Jungkook.
Negative for everyone else, probably.
He should’ve felt relieved about that, but he didn’t. Because the worst part was still coming. The doctor’s eyes looked concerned, and the second he said “acute appendicitis,” Jungkook stopped hearing anything else.
-He needs surgery as soon as possible.
No.
No, no, no.
That didn’t fit with reality.
They’d been rehearsing a few hours ago. Jimin had been laughing a few hours ago. He’d stolen a sip of Jungkook’s coffee that same morning. This couldn’t be serious.
Jungkook realized someone was talking to him and took several seconds to react.
-Mr. Jeon, your test came back negative -a nurse explained, pointing toward him-, but due to protocol, you won’t be allowed to stay after the surgery.
Everyone spoke quietly, as if silence itself could keep the situation from getting worse. Once again, his manager tried convincing Jungkook to leave for a while while they prepared everything for surgery.
-You can come back before he goes into the operating room.
Jungkook didn’t even look at him.
-No.
-Jungkook-ssi…
-I’m not moving from here.
The answer came out so firm that the manager fell silent.
Because there it was —that thing that only appeared a handful of times: Jeon Jungkook’s absolute stubbornness.
The same stubbornness that made him impossible to change once he’d made a decision.
So he stayed.
Sitting.
Waiting.
His leg wouldn’t stop bouncing, and just as he was about to ask for the fourth time how much longer it would take, the door opened. The doctor and two nurses stepped out.
Jungkook knew immediately he didn’t have much time.
Jimin, lying on a hospital bed with an IV hanging above him, looked exhausted. Pale. Probably scared too, even if he’d never admit it.
And still, even like that, the first thing he did when he saw Jungkook was try to comfort him.
-Hey…
Jungkook moved closer immediately.
-Don’t make that face -Jimin murmured weakly.
-What face?
-The one that looks like you’re imagining my funeral.
-Don’t joke about that.
The answer came out so fast even Jimin blinked.
Silence.
Jungkook clenched his jaw behind his mask. He was terrified. And he hated it.
Because Jungkook always fixed things:
he danced better,
trained harder,
practiced longer,
pushed until he succeeded.
But he couldn’t fix this. There was nothing he could do except wait.
Jimin touched his wrist softly.
-Jungkookie, I’m gonna be okay.
-I know.
No. He didn't know.
He didn’t know anything.
A knock on the door let them know their time was up. Jungkook ignored every protocol in existence and pulled both his mask and Jimin’s down. Before Jimin could react, warm lips pressed against his.
-Kook-ah, I tested positive. You shouldn’t...
-Jimin-ah, I kissed you this morning. I kissed you during rehearsals. We practically live together, we share everything… If you haven’t infected me by now, another kiss won’t make a difference.
Jimin couldn’t stop the smile spreading across his face.
-Besides -Jungkook joked softly-, when you come out of that operating room, I’ll have lost a tiny piece of you. Let me say goodbye properly.
And once again their lips met just as the door opened and several doctors and nurses stepped inside.
Jimin noticed immediately and quickly pulled his mask back up.
-Everything’s gonna be okay. I’ll be waiting for you -Jungkook whispered, pressing one last kiss to his forehead.
-Kook, they’re looking…
-Shhh. Don’t worry about that right now. That’s what the staff is for.
Jungkook winked at him. On his lips, Jimin could read one final "I love you" before they wheeled him away toward the operating room.
********************************************************************************
Jungkook never left the hospital.
Everyone else had to leave as soon as the surgery started, but he hid out in his car instead, staring at the lit windows of the building for what felt like an eternity.
The staff tried convincing him. The managers —both his and Jimin’s— tried convincing him. Even Hobi, who had been informed along with the rest of the members by the company itself, called him and told him he should try to rest for a while.
-Hyung, what if he wakes up and I’m not here?
Silence on the other side. Then Hobi sighed softly.
-Then call me if you need anything. Or if Jimin needs anything, I’ll bring it to you.
After hanging up, Jungkook suddenly felt suffocated inside the car, like the walls were closing in around him. The waiting stretched endlessly.
It shouldn’t have been a complicated surgery, but with the fever caused by COVID… Jungkook’s mind wouldn’t stop spiraling through every possible "what if..." while he lit a cigarette with trembling fingers. He’d promised himself a hundred times he’d quit. Tonight definitely wasn’t going to be the night.
The waiting dragged on for another half hour, but when his phone finally rang —the volume turned much louder than usual— Jungkook felt his legs give out beneath him.
Successful surgery.
No complications.
Stable recovery.
The words should’ve comforted him more than they did. Because he still couldn’t see him and it would be days before he could. He wouldn’t be allowed to stay in Jimin’s room. Jungkook had never hated a health regulation more in his life.
-He needs to rest, but he’s stable and recovering well -someone explained kindly through the phone.
Jungkook looked back up at the illuminated windows again. Jimin had to be behind one of them.
Rest. Right. He understood that. But… what exactly was he supposed to do in the meantime?
***********************************************************************************
The next few days turned into an endless mix of video calls, anxiety, questionable meals, and lack of sleep.
Jungkook answered Jimin’s messages within three seconds every single time.
Every.
Single.
Time.
And Jimin noticed quickly.
-Are you staring at your phone all day?
-No.
-Jungkook-ah.
-Maybe...
Jimin laughed and immediately winced, hand flying to his abdomen.
-Don’t do that -Jungkook said instantly.
-What?
-Laugh.
-That sounds incredibly depressing.
-I don’t care.
And he didn’t. Nothing mattered except Jimin stopping looking so exhausted. He always appeared on screen messy-haired, half asleep from the medication, looking like he’d been run over by a truck. And somehow, somehow, he was still the one worrying about Jungkook.
-Did you sleep?
-Yes.
-Liar. Did you eat?
-Yes.
-You’re still lying -Jimin complained.
For the first time in days, Jungkook finally smiled. Small. Tired. Cracked around the edges. But real. The first real smile after the fear.
Jimin was discharged a few days later, and Jungkook arrived way too early. The company had insisted on sending a car for both of them, something Jungkook had refused immediately. He showed up wearing a cap, a mask, a black hoodie, and enough anxiety to keep a dozen therapists employed for years.
Jimin walked out slowly. He looked thinner, still exhausted and moving carefully. Something inside Jungkook’s chest cracked painfully at the sight.
Jimin looked up the moment the weak January sunlight touched his skin.
There he was. Him.
Alive.
Smiling.
Finally close enough to touch.
Jungkook crossed the distance before even thinking about it. His hands shook when he hugged him. Careful around his abdomen. Careful with everything. Holding him gently like something fragile and precious. Jimin buried his face against Jungkook’s neck.
-Hi.
Jungkook closed his eyes.
God.
He was here.
-I hate you so much -he muttered against Jimin’s hair.
Jimin laughed and instantly regretted it, face twisting in pain.
-Don’t make me laugh.
And Jungkook nearly cried from relief right there.
******************************************************************************
The second they were settled into the car, Jungkook drove directly to Jimin's apartment, where he’d already decided they’d both be staying.
Jimin had more blankets.
More medicine.
More easy-to-make food.
More room to recover.
What Jimin didn’t realize was that less than an hour later, Jungkook was going to become absolutely impossible about all of this.
-Kook-ah…
-Mm.
-I’m just going to the bathroom.
-I’ll come with you.
-I do not need bodyguard assistance to pee.
-You never know.
Jimin burst into laughter so hard he immediately grabbed his abdomen.
-Aish, stop! Don’t make me laugh!
Jungkook abandoned his Michelin-star-chef duties and appeared in front of him in less than two seconds, genuinely alarmed.
-Does it hurt? Do you want ice? Should I call the hospital?
Jimin stared at him for a few seconds and then smiled soft and hopelessly in love. Because Jungkook had spent days acting as if keeping him alive had suddenly become the only purpose of his existence.
And honestly? Jimin loved it a little bit too much.
It was ridiculous. Anyone looking at them from the outside would probably die from secondhand embarrassment.
Jungkook adjusted his pillows.
Brought him water.
Reminded him when to take his medication.
Helped him sit down, stand up, lie down.
Helped him change clothes —although in this case Jimin was beginning to miss the reasons Jungkook used to undress him less than two weeks ago…
And he absolutely forbade him from lifting anything heavy.
Unfortunately, “heavy” quickly started meaning literally everything.
-Kookie, -Jimin laughed while Jungkook stole a mug from his hands- it’s literally tea.
-It's heavy, you could hurt yourself.
-With a mug?
-Better not risk it.
Jimin stared at him for several long seconds. Then slowly smiled completely gone for him.
-You’re overdoing this so much.
-Nope.
-I’m not gonna convince you otherwise, am I?
-No.
Hm.
Jimin let himself sink back into the pillows looking entirely too pleased with himself. Because yes, Jungkook was being absurdly overprotective but secretly, Jimin absolutely adored it.
*******************************************************************************
The members called constantly.
Tae made ridiculous video calls trying to cheer him up.
Yoongi kept asking if he was taking his medication properly, apparently forgetting Jungkook existed.
Namjoon tried sounding calm while clearly worrying himself sick.
Jin threatened to personally come over and make soup —another person forgetting Jungkook wouldn’t allow anyone else near the kitchen right now.
And Hobi seemed to be the only one worrying about Jungkook almost as much as Jimin.
Because even if nobody said it out loud, they all noticed the same thing: Jungkook looked exhausted.
And on top of that, he’d casually informed the company that he wouldn’t be returning to rehearsal until Jimin could go back too.
-Jungkook, -Namjoon said during one call- you don’t need to stay with him twenty-four hours a day.
-Yes, I do.
-The Grammys are still getting closer, and Jimin’s recovering well.
-There’s still a month and a half left. If Jimin can rehearse enough to have the choreography ready by then, so can I.
-Jungkook-ah...
-I’ll go back when he does, hyung. Not before.
Silence.
Not because they were surprised by his answer, but because they all knew that tone. Once Jungkook sounded like that, there was no arguing with him anymore. And besides, they all knew exactly why he was doing it. Jimin lowered his gaze to hide his smile.
That night, already in bed, Jungkook helped him settle carefully beneath the blankets like he was made of delicate glass.
-Comfy?
-Yes.
-Are you sure?
-Yes.
-Does it hurt?
-Just a little.
Jungkook frowned immediately. Jimin watched him quietly for a moment before slowly opening his arms.
-Come here.
Jungkook climbed into bed carefully, avoiding his abdomen completely. Jimin ended up practically glued against his chest.
And there—for the first time since the hospital—Jungkook breathed deeply. Really deeply.
Jimin lifted his head just enough to kiss him. Slowly, softly and sleepy.
Then another kiss.
And another one because Jungkook obviously needed to reassure himself every thirty seconds that Jimin was still here and still okay.
-Kookie…
-Mm.
-I’m not gonna break...
Jungkook kissed his forehead.
-I’m not willing to test that.
***************************************************************************
Jimin discovered very quickly that recovering while Jeon Jungkook was in love with you was an absolutly comfortable experience, mostly because Jungkook treated medical rest like a personal mission.
Jimin watched him walk across the room carrying an entire tray of carefully balanced food.
Fresh homemade soup, crackers, fruits, medication, water and hot tea meant to “completely get rid of the COVID” -even though Jimin had already tested negative twice.
Everything was placed onto the bed with ridiculous precision.
-Are you trying to fatten me up?
-You need to eat.
-Kook, this is the third soup today.
-Your body needs nutrients.
-You sound like Jin hyung.
Jungkook looked genuinely offended.
-I’m never taking care of you again.
Jimin smiled immediately.
-Liar.
***********************************************************************
Things got worse —or better, depending on who you asked— when Jungkook developed the habit of touching him constantly.
A hand massaging the back of his neck.
Fingers tangled together beneath the blankets.
A warm palm resting against his thigh.
Gentle touches through his hair and along his back while he slept.
As if Jungkook needed to remind himself every few minutes:
Here. He’s here.
Jimin pretended not to notice at first, until one night he woke up suddenly and found Jungkook staring at him from the other side of the bed. The room was dark except for the soft blue glow of the air purifier.
-What are you doing? -Jimin mumbled sleepily.
Jungkook blinked, clearly not expecting him to be awake.
-Nothing.
Jimin huffed softly.
-Kook-ah.
Silence.
Then, very quietly:
-I wanted to make sure you didn’t have a fever. You were tossing and turning...
Something melted painfully inside Jimin’s chest. Because there it was again: that fear.
Jimin shifted closer until he filled the space between them completely.
-Will you hold me?
Jungkook didn’t need to be asked twice. He moved against him immediately with exaggerated care, wrapping an arm around his waist over the oversized sweatshirt Jimin had been living in for the last two days.
-You’re still treating me like I’m gonna fall apart.
-I mean… you could.
-I cannot disintegrate from appendicitis.
-Appendicitis and COVID.
Jimin laughed softly at the correction and immediately winced. Jungkook lifted his head in alarm.
-Did I hurt you?
-No, drama queen.
That finally earned a real smile from Jungkook. Jimin looked at it like it was something precious. Because for days now, Jungkook’s smiles had only ever been half there —still worried, still watching him too closely, still waiting for the next sign of pain or exhaustion. So Jimin reached up slowly and brushed dark hair away from his forehead.
-Kookie.
-Mm.
-Thank you for taking care of me.
Jungkook took a second too long to answer. When he finally did, his voice came out rough with sleep and restrained emotion.
-You never have to thank me for that.
Jimin understood what he really meant.
You would never have to ask.
I was always going to do it.
I’ll always do it.
So he kissed him still smiling against his mouth. Jungkook kissed him back immediately, leaning down just enough not to put pressure on his abdomen, kissing him like some small part of him was still afraid of losing him.
And maybe he was.
A little.
Just a little.
Because the fear still lived somewhere deep inside his chest.
You could see it in the way he held Jimin at night. In how he asked if something hurt every few hours. In how he watched him for too long when he thought Jimin wasn’t paying attention.
But there was something else there too.
Relief.
The immense, trembling relief of having him home again.
Sleepy.
Complaining.
Stealing blankets.
Kissing him between painkillers, antibiotics, and anti-inflammatory medication.
Alive.
Right here beside him.
Just like always.