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When Jimin is nine, they move into a new house. It is a pretty house, all wide windows, a spacious garden, and an ebony roof, dusted in white because it's winter. But Jimin isn't happy in the slightest, in contrast to his parents and his brother.
Why?
Well, one, all his friends are now on the opposite end of Busan, and he'd have to now make new ones at a new school.
And two, it is almost Christmas. What kind of time is this to move?
"Cheer up, hyung!" Jihyun chimes, looking up at him, mouth hidden beneath his rather large wool scarf, winter coat swallowing his tiny body whole.
Jimin quirks his mouth into a little smile, only for his baby brother—as soon as the younger boy leaves, his foul expression returns. He watches as they all enter the house, rooted to his spot on the snowy front lawn, refusing to enter. Jihyun looks back, waving at him to follow, before disappearing inside.
Jimin does not budge.
He's considering a change of heart, when it hits him. Literally, something hits him right in the back of his head, knocking his beanie off.
A little dazed, he picks up the woollen item, now soaked and cold. It's barely back on his head when something—white and very fast—flies through the air, landing right on his boots. Snow, he recognises. He also hears a tiny sound—a laugh?—from his right.
Whipping his head in the direction, he comes face to face with a little boy—small and bundled up, like Jihyun—peeking at him from behind the picket fence separating the lawn of the neighbouring house from his own. In his mittened-hands is a perfectly round ball of white, and Jimin puts two and two together. The tiny neighbour launches the snowball at him, actually hitting his shoulder this time, and worsening his mood.
Jimin scowls at him, scooping up the biggest handful of snow he possibly can. He tries to round it into shape, and with all his might, he hauls it at the boy. It breaks apart half-way through the air, collapsing into a white mess, not even making it past the fence.
The other boy boy bursts into giggles, and Jimin feels his face grow warm. His mother calls for him again, and Jimin, tears pricking his eyes, scurries inside the house.
He decides he really hates his new neighbours.
When his mother decides to invite their new neighbours for dinner on Christmas, she tells Jimin that the 'Jeons' have a child close to his age, so he won't feel lonely amidst all their grown-up talk. So he waits on the front porch, bouncing on his feet, keeping an eye out for these neighbours.
"Jiminnie, this is Jeon Jeongguk," his mother tells him, nudging him towards the boy when he arrives—Snowball-Boy from next door.
That evening, Jimin learns that Jeon Jeongguk is, in fact, the same age as Jihyun. And that throwing a snowball at the boy while he is leaving is a very bad idea.
That night, Jimin goes to bed with a pout, and a scolding from his parents.
Jeongguk: 1; Jimin: 0.
When Jimin is ten, the Jeons invite his family over for a Christmas dinner. He's admant to go—who wouldn't be, when their arch-rival lives in said house—but his father asks if he wants to be on Santa's Naughty List, and Jimin immediately changes his mind.
He shows up at their house in his new maroon sweater—the one with little stitched reindeer at the bottom—and a forced smile on his lips. The door opens and Jeongguk greets them with a polite bow, his grin bright and his eyes sparkling. His parents coo, but Jimin knows better than to let his guard down around this kid. So when his brother runs off to play with Jeongguk's toys, Jimin makes his way to the living room, settling down on the sofa. He entertains himself by staring out of the big glass windows, at the flower bushes that are, for some reason, in bloom during this season.
"Jiminnie, dear, do you like flowers?" ask Mrs. Jeon, and he shyly nods, tugging at his sweater. She smiles kindly, ushering her son over. "Jeongguk would love to show you the flowers—wouldn't you, Guk?"
The younger boy stares behind him, at Jihyun, who's still working on a puzzle they'd begun solving, and then at Jimin. He nods, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he grins, and holds out his hand to the elder. Jimin hesitantly takes it, and they make their way outside.
"They're eggs—no—exotic," explains Jeongguk, letting Jimin examine the lilac petals, "They don't smell good though."
The older boy hums, carefully poking at one of the pretty blossoms. He smiles, observing the faint speckling of white that each of them has, and soft curve of their leaves. Jimin thinks it's beautiful—just him, the flowers, and the silence.
Wait. The silence? Where is Jeongguk?
He suddenly has a very bad feeling, as he turns around to call for the boy—and gets hit in the chest by something very white and very round. Jimin lets out a gasp, frowning at his attacker.
"That's for last year," says Jeongguk, and this is the day Jimin learns something new about the younger boy—he's a bit petty.
"You're such a brat." But then again, Jimin's rather petty too. Jeongguk sticks out his tongue at him and runs back inside.
Jimin stares down at his sweater, now soggy and cold; the reindeer look so droopy, and... and it's ruined. He bursts into tears, pawing at his eyes indignantly—big boys don't cry, after all, and Jimin is a big boy.
He doesn't see Jeongguk watching him from behind the tinted windows, tiny lips downturned.
Jeongguk: 2; Jimin: 0.
By the time Jimin's fourteen, they've established their own sort of tradition: they try to snowball each other on Christmas Day, and whoever lands the first hit earns a point. A little silly, yes, and extremely childish, but so important for the two of them—it's something small and special, between just them. They can't help but love it, as stupid it is. Jimin even keeps count of their scores.
"You nerd," Jeongguk snorts, when he glimpses the page in Jimin's journal, on their flight to Japan (of course, the younger flips back to the page, to make sure he's in the lead, the idiot).
"You say that now, but just wait—I'll win this year," Jimin chides, staring at the '4' next to Jeongguk's name on the page, and the condescending '1' next to his own. Their families usually spend Christmas together (the two boys are friends now, or so Jimin hopes) and this time is no different; they are heading off on a vacation for the next two weeks, Christmas day falling somewhere within that time. Jimin's determined to get that point this year.
Christmas arrives, and after a morning of cleaning up the wrapping paper they'd so harshly ripped apart, both of them are waiting for the first chance to attack. It arrives when Jihyun and Jeongguk's parents decide to go sight-seeing, and Jimin's own parents decide to visit a spa, leaving the two boys alone at the holiday house they'd rented.
The backyard is extremely large, and very, very much covered in white fluff. They rush there without a second thought.
"Take this!" A perfectly round Jeon Jeongguk Snowball™ narrowly misses Jimin's shoulder right as he shuts the door.
"I won't lose this year, brat!" Jimin yells, hurling a hurriedly made snowball back in the boy's direction.
Jeongguk guffaws, side-stepping and dodging the attack. "As if. Your snowballs suck." It's true—Jimin's snowballs are always fragile and break half the time.
"Shut your mouth—I won once," he says, aiming one of his best snowballs at the other's leg—it's mediocre compared to the younger's, of course. Jeongguk moves away with ease.
"Once," the other boy reminds him, a smirk adorning his lips, catapulting another perfect snowball at him. Jimin growls, moving to the left just in time—he takes dance classes now, so he's not that bad on his feet either. "It's four to one, Jimin."
"That's—Jimin—hyung—to you—" with each word follows an angry snowball, "—brat."
If Jimin's light on his feet, Jeongguk's basically floating. He slides across the ground like a pro, twisting and jumping out of the way, throwing in a stupid little twirl just to annoy Jimin. He picks up a handful of snow, patting it into shape, but misses a small overgrown root at his feet—and trips. Perfect, graceful Jeon Jeongguk flies through the air, and lands on his side with a startled yell.
Jimin sees his chance for victory, and runs forward, with a handful of snow—and falters. The younger is sitting on the ground, but is making no move to get on his feet, and as Jimin gets closer, he sees tiny crystalline droplets running down his cheeks and oh no, Jimin's tiny brat is crying.
"Jeonggukkie!" Jimin releases his snowbal, hurrying up to the younger boy, sitting on his knees in front of him. He wipes away the tears as well as he can with wet sleeves, whispering comfortingly when the tiny drops of stardust don't stop flowing. How could he have thought to use this to advantage—Jeongguk's a brat, but he's only twelve, and Jimin must be such a horrible friend to even think of attacking when he could be hurt—
Thwack.
The elder stops his ministrations and looks down at his stomach. Jeongguk has his hand placed over it, pushing onto him... the handful of snow he'd been holding when he fell.
"Five to one, Jimin," he sniggers, and Jimin hates him so much, with his stupid smug smile, tear tracks still on his squishy cheeks.
"You... are terrible," Jimin huffs out, pushing his hand away.
"You wouldn't trade me for anyone else though."
He can't help the grin that breaks across his face.
Jeongguk: 5; Jimin: 1.
When Jimin's sixteen, he spends Christmas without his family. They'd planned to visit some relatives in Daegu, but he'd come down with a fever the night before. Not wanting them to cancel their plans because of him, he urges them to carry on with their trip.
"I'll be okay, don't worry," he assures, handing Jihyun a neatly wrapped gift (it's a pack of expensive photo-films and a CD containing a special playlist he'd put together, for his cousin Yoongi). He waves goodbye to them as the car drives away, his brother mirroring his actions until he is out of sight.
Jeongguk witnesses it all and, right as Jimin's going back inside, jumps over the picket-fence and grabs his hand. "Hey—aren't you going?"
"My fever hasn't gone down, Gukkie." Jimin smiles wryly, and the younger feels something twist inside him (maybe his stomach, or even his heart, he's not sure).
"Then," and Jeongguk's not sure what compels him to make this next offer, "Come stay with us till they come back."
Jimin blinks at him, one hand still on the door knob unsurely. "I—I don't want to intrude."
"It wouldn't be an intrusion—you spend Christmas with us every year anyway." Jeongguk clicks his tongue when the elder still doesn't move, and fishes out the spare key to Jimin's house from his own pocket, and locks the front door. Slipping an arm around Jimin's shoulder, he proceeds to walk them in the direction of the Jeons' home. Jimin, thankfully, doesn't put up much of a fight.
"I really don't think—" he begins, once they're at the doorstep, and Jeongguk shushes him. He needs a quick way to convince Jimin.
"You'll miss Snowball Day if we leave you alone—probably sleep through it or something," the younger persuades, hoping his pouting has some sort of an effect.
Jimin scoffs. "Like you'll let me do it while I'm sick."
Jeongguk laughs, but gets incredibly shy as he holds the door open. "Please? I just can't stand the idea of you spending the day alone."
Jimin's mouth opens and closes, looking pleasantly taken aback. He thanks the younger boy with a hug, and skips inside the house, cheerfully greeting Mr. Jeon in the living room.
Despite being the one to invite him over, Jeongguk can't seem to stay around Jimin for too long. At night he goes to bed early so he doesn't have to talk to him, in the day he busies himself outside, fully well knowing that the older boy won't be allowed out into the cold.
This is how, on the evening of Christmas, Jeongguk finds himself building a snowman on the front lawn. It's a wonky snowman, nothing perfect and properly rounded like his snowballs, but it'll have to do. He's about to poke a stick into its side to create an arm, when someone calls for him.
Someone who shouldn't be outside.
Jeongguk freezes, not wanting to look at him. He stares at the snowman's face instead, at the flowers he'd used to create its eyes.
"Jeongguk-ah!"
They're those weird purple flowers that bloom in winter—
"Jeonggukkie!"
The ones that Jimin and his mother seem to really adore—
"Hey?"
They don't smell too good, and their petals have a unique curvature—
Thwack!
"Jeon Jeongguk!"
He sighs, and turns to face the other boy. Jimin stands with his hands on his hips, body almost drowning in the large fluffy robe Jeongguk had forced him into ('to keep you warm, Jiminie, to keep you warm—you need more than just your clothes, wear this too'). His lips are softly drawn into a smile, cheeks dusted pink from the cold, and also from his fever. His hair is a little unruly, falling over his forehead and Jeongguk wants to say he looks bad, but that would be a lie. A very big lie.
"You're so distracted today," Jimin sighs, once he's closer, "Look—I even got the point this year. Even though Snowball Day was technically called off. You wanna tell me what's wrong?"
Jimin's hands are brushing away the remnants of snow from the younger's shoulder, and Jeongguk knows very well what's wrong. His racing heart and sweaty fingers, that's what—he knows what this is; he's not stupid.
"I'm fine," he protests, but the other boy doesn't seem convinced, "I'm just—worried about you, that's all."
Not entirely a lie, but less of the truth.
But with the way Jimin's mouth lifts up into a smile (the most genuine smile he's seen since the rest of the Parks left), Jeongguk can't help but feel a bit proud of himself.
"It's only a fever but... thank you, Guk," Jimin says, reaching down to squeeze his gloved fingers, "Your mum says to come help me set up the table."
Jeongguk reassures him of his return to the house soon, watching Jimin waddle back inside, bundled up in that huge robe. He glances down at his hand and the corners of his lips twitch a little.
When Park Jimin is sixteen and a little alone, Jeongguk tries his best to fix it. (His heart also catches something he's too scared to name.)
Jeongguk: 6; Jimin: 2.
When Jimin is seventeen, he texts his neighbour at five o'clock on Christmas morning, challenging him to a duel. A snowball crashes against his window in response, not even a minute later.
Jeon, you're too easy.
Jimin slips his coat over his pyjamas, forgetting his gloves but remembering his beanie, and quietly tip-toes down the stairs. He puts on his boots, and cautiously unlocks the door, keeping an eye out for his stealthy neighbour. The sky is clouded in grey, and snow is very lightly falling over the place. He spots a pair of Timberland boots peeking out from behind his father's blueberry bush, and snorts.
The idiot isn't even trying.
He grabs a handful of snow, shapes it into a ball—he's a lot better at this now—and hauls it at the other's boots. He miscalculates the trajectory of his throw and it hits the bush instead, alerting Jeongguk of his presence. A snowball flies his way, and Jimin jumps away, shooting another one in his friend's direction.
"Show yourself, coward!" he exclaims, rushing to hide behind the bushes on the other end of the lawn. The plants do little to hide him, and damn Jeongguk for taking the biggest bush.
"Come on out!" he yells again and the younger steps out of his hiding spot, pulling a ridiculous face in Jimin's general direction. The elder flings another snowball at him, and Jeongguk smashes one of his own into it, effectively breaking it apart before it reaches him.
"Who's the coward now, Jiminnie?" he calls out, spinning around in the snow, catching some snowflakes in his mouth. "Come out come out wherever you—no screw that, I can see you from here, that bush is—" he pirouettes away from another attack, this extra brat, "—tiny."
"I'm your hyung, dimwit," Jimin reprimands, running towards the other with a snowball in each hand, "Respect me—dammit, how are you so fast."
Jeongguk drops to the ground and tumbles out of the way when Jimin throws both of them at him, at once. He rolls over and strikes a pose once he's sitting upright, next to Jimin's foot. "Talent."
He grabs the older boy's leg, and lets out a battle-cry (the other neighbours are surely going to complain), pulling him down onto the snow next to him. Jimin yelps out accusations of him cheating, plunging face first—thankfully—onto Jeongguk, and not the frosty, wet snow. They both pause, awkwardness sky-rocketing, and Jimin rolls off the younger, flinching as wetness seeps through his coat, past his pyjama shirt.
"This though—" Jeongguk shoves an armful of snow on to Jimin, "—is technically still allowed, since I'm not holding you down by force. Haha—I win again."
Jimin turns to glare at him, unimpressed. "You play dirty, Jeon."
The younger boy laughs, nose scrunching up, his teeth showing—Jeongguk's bunny-teeth are adorable, though Jimin will never admit it to his face. "All's fair in war and love."
"You're not fair at all and this isn't war!"
The younger raises an eyebrow at him. "Are you, Jiminnie, perhaps suggesting that this is... love?"
Jimin chokes on air, and slaps Jeongguk's arm. "First, I am your hyung, and second, it's too early for your bullshit."
"You know you love me, Jiminnie," the other boy insists, winking for good measure. Jimin purses his lips together, feigning disgruntlement, when really those words are buzzing all around in his brain. He peeks at Jeongguk as discreetly as he can, eyes roaming the pink tinge on his cheeks, the slope of his nose, even the flakes of snow settled in his ebony locks.
The words still echo in his ears when he steps inside, clothes soaked, body shivering.
You know you love me.
Jimin sighs. Maybe those words are a little closer to the truth than he thought.
Jeongguk: 7; Jimin: 2.
When Jimin's eighteen, Christmas dinner at the Jeons' is also a mini-farewell party for him. He's supposed to move again, just him this time, alone... all the way to Seoul, for university.
The mood is a little sombre; goodbyes are always difficult, after all. Jeongguk doesn't even charge at him with snowballs like he usually does. Instead they sit side by side on the front lawn, their clothes sodden. Their hands ball up snow, leaving the snowballs in an ever-growing pile by their feet.
"Aren't you going to hit me?" Jimin questions, finally looking up at his friend—no, his best friend. Jeongguk has become such a big part of his life without him realising it. He can't get used to the idea of looking out of his window and not seeing the younger's dumb face in the morning.
Said boy lowers his gaze to Jimin's fingers, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. "Not like this—you have to press it with just the right amount of pressure, that's too little—"
"Jeonggukkie," he interrupts, trying to ignore the other's hands over his own attempting to fix Jimin's sorry excuse of a snowball, "This might be your last chance to earn a point, for a while."
Jeongguk's remains silent. His fingers pull Jimin's hand—the one holding the snowball— towards him, and smashes the sphere against his own arm. Jimin gasps softly, wrist still in Jeongguk's hold (his hands are bigger and warmer than his own, and something flutters in Jimin's heart).
"Gukkie?" he asks, quietly, knowing that Jeon Jeongguk does not give away victories so easily.
"I'm still in the lead any way," the other replies, almost broodily.
"Guk," Jimin tries again, freeing his hand from Jeongguk's grasp, only to link their fingers together, in hopes of comforting the other. Receiving no reply, he's about to pry the answer out of him, when Jeongguk does something unexpected.
He pulls Jimin into an embrace.
It's not that they've never hugged before, it's just that Jeongguk's not the one to usually initiate skinship. Especially not like this. The way his arms go around him, a hand gently placed on the back of Jimin's neck, like he's scared to let go, but also scared he might crush him if he holds him too tight.
"I'll come visit you as much as I c-can." There's a trembling whisper next to his ear, and Jimin realises he's not even hugging the poor boy back. He's quick to slip his arms around his friend, his little brat.
"Jiminnie, if you ever need a-anything, call me first, o-okay?" Jeongguk's crying now, warm tears dripping onto Jimin's shoulder. He traces little circles into the younger's back, murmuring hushed assurances.
"Hyung, promise me we'll text each other every day on kakao."
Jimin feels the first of many sobs wrack through his own body, and he nods fervently against the other's shoulder. He turns his head and with quivering lips, places a tiny kiss on the younger's jaw.
"I promise, Jeonggukkie, I promise."
Goodbyes are always hard, but they aren't always forever.
Jeongguk: 7; Jimin: 3
When Jimin is nineteen, he's dreading Christmas morning, because he can't go home for this one—he has a huge project and two essays due the day after, damn his professors. It's been a whole year of not seeing anyone back in Busan (not even Jeongguk, because there wasn't a chance when both of them weren't busy). So he texts an apology to Jeongguk the night before, punctuated with many crying emojis and a few broken hearts.
He doesn't receive a reply, even by the time he goes to bed, and his heart sinks a little bit. He goes to bed with a small frown, phone still in his clutch.
It vibrates in his hold and wakes him up at five-thirty on Christmas morning.
From: my golden star
come outside.
Jimin's eyes unsurely glance out of his bedroom window, at the snow-covered lawn in front of the apartment building. Jeongguk couldn't have...?
Groggily tripping out of bed, he pulls on a jacket and some shoes on the way out, not really caring at neither of them are suitable for the snow. He thinks about letting his flatmate know that he'll be out, but decides not wake up Taehyung—the poor boy is even busier than he is; he could use the extra few minutes of slumber. He almost falls asleep whilst locking the door, but snaps awake when Hoseok from the fourth floor exits the elevator, wishing him (read: hollering) a Very Merry Christmas, holding a plate of cookies (Jimin sighs and unlocks the door, leaving it open for the other to enter as he pleases).
He stumbles out of the elevator, and then out of the building, eyeing the pale orange sky with suspicion. He's reaching into his pocket for his phone when something knocks into his head from the left and Jimin lets out a groan.
"The heck?" he mumbles, rubbing the sleep away from his eyes. And boy, is he glad he did.
"J-Jeongguk?" he asks, squinting at the rather tall person in front of him (he should really stop forgetting his glasses). The person lets out a laugh and Jimin lets out a cry of disbelief, because there's no way, there's absolutely no way—
"Jeon Jeongguk!" he all but wails, sprinting forward as fast as he can, latching himself onto the other boy, who chuckles and loops his arms around the elder, pulling him close. He smells so wonderful and he's growing up so well, his hands feel so warm against Jimin's flimsy jacket, and he's wearing that denim backpack Jimin got him last year. Jimin feels his eyes get a little teary.
"Hello Jiminnie," he has the audacity to calmly say, after showing up so early in the morning (after a whole year) and causing him such hysteria. The elder lets out a muffled whine in response, burying his nose into Jeongguk's neck (when did he grow this tall?).
"Jeonggukkie, Gukkie, my golden star," Jimin sings into the younger's collar, hug getting tighter by the minute. The taller boy doesn't seem to mind.
"I," Jeongguk begins, carding a hand through Jimin's hair, "have actually missed you so fucking much."
Jimin grumbles out a small 'language!', but the younger just laughs it off. And oh, how Jimin has missed his laugh—his obnoxious, boyish laughter that makes his nose scrunch up and his eyes twinkle (and Jimin's heart tremble).
"I've missed you so, so much, Guk, I'm so sorry, my stupid assignments and—" Jimin stops halfway and sighs when Jeongguk plays with his hair again, "Gosh, we need to hang out, but I have like—this enormous project and—"
"—two essays, Jiminnie, I know," the younger finishes, stroking his back sympathetically, "I'm catching the eight-twenty train back to Busan anyway—we wouldn't be able to hang out."
Jimin halts and pulls back to stare him hard in the eye. "Then why did you come all the way here, so early in the morning?"
Jeongguk's lips pull into a crooked grin (he still has his bunny-teeth, and Jimin internally coos) and boops the elder's nose playfully. "It's eight to three now, Jiminnie."
Eight to three. Eight to three. What does that even mean—
Snowball Day.
Jeongguk woke up god knows when to board a train all the way from Busan to Seoul, to see him, just to continue their little tradition. Their stupid little annual trend, and Jimin doesn't know why, but that makes his heart weak, makes him feel like he's glowing with happiness.
"Jeonggukkie..." he whispers, almost timidly, looking down, and the other raises his eyebrows at him. Then Jimin looks up, eyes misty, a reddish tint spread across his cheeks, and Jeongguk throws his head back in a laugh, cradling the elder's head close to his chest as he bursts into tears (happy ones, this time, thank goodness).
"You're so weak, oh god," he chortles, and Jimin just smacks him on the arm, inviting him inside for breakfast before he has to leave for Busan again. Jeongguk gladly obliges, and they catch up over warm cups of cocoa and Hoseok's christmas cookies.
Just as he's about to leave, Jeongguk reaches into his backpack and pulls out something, holding it out to Jimin, and apologising for the lack of wrapping. The elder almost breaks out into another set of fresh tears, holding Tori Kelly's Unbreakable Smile album with shaky fingers, because oh gosh, he forgot to get the other boy a gift.
"Hey hey, it's alright—just seeing you in the flesh is enough," Jeongguk coos, pulling him in for one more hug (and gosh, he's so tall and Jimin's just not used to it) before wishing him a fantastic Christmas and leaving. Thirty minutes later, Jimin's still sprawled across the couch, gift clutched close to his heart, a lazy smile across his lips.
"Mornin' Chim," Taehyung yawns, sauntering in with a bowl of fruit loops, "Wait—shit, are you crying?"
Jeongguk: 8; Jimin: 3.
(A week later, Jeongguk receives a package in the mail. He spends the next month grinning stupidly every time he wears his new Timberlands.)
When Jimin is twenty, he has learned that certain professors love to assign deadlines that coincide with specific holidays (yes, he has to work through Christmas again this year, Merry freaking Christmas to him). Jeongguk's completely understanding though, and this time Jimin calls him, to spare himself of the apprehension he went through last year. The younger (after many 'no's and lots of whinging) finally convinces Jimin to let him come over and spend the day in his apartment with him—to brighten the mood, he says.
Jimin wakes up to Careless Whisper on full blast (Taehyung must have meddled with his ringtone again) and drool on his English textbook, ink smudges on his Art History essay. He scrambles to answer the caller, and promises that he'll be right there—Jeongguk sounded a bit out of breath. Hurriedly smoothing down his hair, he bolts out of the apartment (leaving the door unlocked for Hoseok), his heart beating at an increasingly rapid rate.
"Jeongguk?" he calls, stepping out of the building—in time to receive a handful of snow onto his head. He glowers at his taller friend. "You little shit."
Jeongguk just grins, cute front teeth and all, unknowingly dissolving Jimin's aggravation. No snowballing follows, because the elder is still a little sleepy. Instead, Jeongguk rakes his finger through Jimin's hair and shakes away the snow before it can get too drenched. "You dyed it orange. You look so pretty like this."
The shorter boy flushes at the abrupt compliment, and swats the other's hands away. He takes notice of two large cardboard boxes next to the younger’s feet, and when he questions their contents, he only gets a chuckle in reply. Nevertheless, he obliges when Jeongguk asks him to help him move the boxes up into the apartment.
"Whew," Jimin gasps, setting one down in his living room, "And you carried both of them here from the train station?"
Jeongguk nods in affirmative, holding the other box with one arm like it's no big deal. "I mean... I've been going to the gym a lot recently, so..."
Jimin blinks, eyeing the other boy's arms as he sheds his coat, trying to stop himself before his mind can wander off to the idea of Jeongguk exercising. He chuckles nervously when his brain fails, and tries to divert the topic. "What's in the box?"
The younger gives him one of his stardust smiles, excitement contagious as he opens it up to reveal a mini potted pine plant, already laden with glass ornaments and golden tinsel. He picks it up and places it in a corner, while Jimin gapes in awe and disbelief.
"Gukkie, what," is all he can get out.
"Well, your place looked so out of the spirit last year, so I just thought..." the younger trails off, unloading the other box—more decorations, Jimin realises, as he watches his friend pull out more tinsel, a few wreaths and even fairy lights. "Sorry about the plant though, I could only get that one. And since you'll be busy, I decided to decorate it before I got here—I left something for you though."
Jimin feels something being pushed into his hands—a star.
"A star for my twinkling star." The taller winks at him before going back to hang up another wreath, and Jimin swears he has it all wrong. Jeongguk is the real star here, with his dazzling eyes and his handsome smile, broad shoulders and his long legs—something akin to a modern day Prince Charming.
"Well?" Jeongguk gestures to the decoration in his hands. "Come on Jiminnie, the tree's short enough this year, even for you."
This brat.
But muscled forearms (he rolled up his sleeves and Jimin almost choked) and striking looks aside, he's still Jeongguk, Jimin realises. Jeongguk from Busan with his bunny-toothed grin and fluffy brown hair. Jeongguk who loves Iron Man, Timberland boots and singing when he thinks nobody's listening. Jeongguk who threw a snowball at his head the first day they'd met, and rarely calls him ‘hyung’ to this very day.
Same old Jeon Jeongguk, he realises, watching the boy laugh at Taehyung's penguin print pyjamas with Hoseok.
Same old Jeon Jeongguk, that he's completely and utterly head-over-heels for.
"Chim, who was that—he was so fucking handsome—you didn't tell us you had a boyfriend!" Taehyung complains later that day through a mouth full of cookie, after Jeongguk leaves.
Jimin stares at his own green and red cookie, sadly. "I... don't."
Oh god, why does it have to be Jeongguk, his baby boy, his little brat, his shining star?
Hoseok lets out a low whistle, glancing around at the now decorated living room. "Could've fooled me."
Jeongguk: 9; Jimin: 3.
When Jimin is twenty-one, he texts less, calls less, has less free time. That's what Jimin says, but both he and Jeongguk know, it's only Jeongguk's texts, Jeongguk's calls, Jeongguk's meet-ups that he mysteriously has less time for. Because now Jimin's time trickles away into the hands of Namjoon—tall, funny and handsome.
(All three things that Jeongguk is, he thinks sometimes, when they're on dates, only to shake the thought away.)
Namjoon is delightful, he really is. He's beautiful inside and out, gloriously poetic-tongued and gorgeously dimpled when he smiles, and he's tall enough that Jimin can nestle his head under the other's chin during hugs. Yet something's missing.
'He's not Jeon Jeongguk,' his mind helpfully supplies, and Jimin feels so, so guilty. Guilty because he likes Namjoon, yes, but not how he likes a certain starry-eyed Busan boy. Guilty because Jeongguk's despondent tries to constantly contact him have finally died down, and he's to blame.
But the constant thoughts of his princely charm and his teasing laugh are ever-flowing in his mind, so Jimin tries to drown himself in Namjoon's presence as much as he can. He even lets the other boy take him out for a full-day Christmas date (Taehyung throws him a pointed look, he isn't sure why).
Somewhere close to ten in the morning is when his phone buzzes with a text, but Jimin chooses to ignore it—it's probably Hoseok, asking him to open the door for his annual Christmas cookies. The buzzing happens spontaneously throughout the day, but phone deep in the pockets of his thick winter coat, he doesn't feel anything.
"Tell me again," Namjoon muses as they have dinner, candlelit and fancy in the older boy's apartment, "About your best friend."
"Oh—Taehyung?" Jimin giggles, waving his hand back and forth, "He's weird, but he's lovely. A complete sweetheart."
"No," the tall boy replies, a sad smile across his lips, "I mean your golden star."
The world stops, sudden and cold, like a blast of winter air to his face, and Jimin balls up his fists. "How—how do you—"
Namjoon jerks his chin at the younger boy's phone on the table. "That name's appeared on the screen so many times. Chim, is he—is he your boyfriend too?"
Of course he would wprd it like this, not directly ask if he's cheating, because Namjoon has mercy, he's mature and kind. And it hurts so much more like this.
Jimin trains his eyes down, playing with his fingers. "No, he's not."
There's a muted sigh, and he looks up to meet knowing eyes. "But you wish he was."
Swallowing down the rest of his pride, Jimin shrugs. "Yeah."
"Chim?"
"Yes, hyung?"
"When you love someone—" Jimin gasps at those words, "—so much, it's better to take the chance once than to regret a million times."
Jimin asks him, almost angrily, how he knows if it's love and Namjoon just gently thumbs at the tears making their way down his face—tears he doesn't even know he is crying. That's enough proof, the other doesn't even need to say it. He does suggest that Jimin open up the twenty-seven or so new texts.
With unsteady hands, he complies.
From: my golden star (10:13 AM)
jiminnie im coming for snowball day, wake up ok.
From: my golden star (11:15 AM)
hey. where are u?
From: my golden star (12:01 PM)
ok listen manggaetteok, i'll give u the point this time just pls come outside, it's been centuries.
Jimin bites back a distressed noise. That damn pet name.
From: my golden star (12:55 PM)
manggaetteok. are u avoiding me?
Jimin scrolls past more messages, feeling something heavy and mood-dampening gnaw at his insides. Namjoon leans over to peer at the messages too, and he doesn't stop the elder.
From: my golden star (13:22 PM)
im in ur apartment. taehyung let me in.
From: my golden star (13:27 PM)
he said ur on a date. so uh. i'll wait till u get home? (i got u a gift)
Jimin lets out a deep breath, a hand on his forehead. He scrolls down more, every text like a punch to his stomach. How did he reach this point?
From: my golden star (15:48 PM)
hyung. why are u avoiding me?
After that, there's only one final text, sent hours later.
From: my golden star (18:34 PM)
fuck u park jimin.
That’s all it takes for Jimin to stand up, pocketing the device. He bites his lip, and thanks Namjoon.
"For everything," he adds, as he's leaving.
Namjoon smiles, dimples showing, eyes sincere. "That's what friends are for—good luck, Chim. Let me know how it goes."
"Okay."
It's his first break-up, and Jimin feels okay about it. There are more pressing matters. Like a sad little Busan brat, cross and hurt—hopefully still in Seoul.
Jimin reaches his apartment building, sweat-drenched and breathless, legs wobbling and weak—he hasn't run like this in a while. Gosh, please let Jeongguk be okay. Something wet and cold hits the back of his head and for once, he smiles, whirling around optimistically.
"Jeonggu—Tae."
"That," the other declares, adjusting his black beanie, "Was on Jeon's orders—you screwed up, Chim."
Jimin sighs and follows the other inside, his legs heavy like lead. The elevator ride up to their floor is dreary and Jimin feels sick to his stomach.
"How was your date?"
"We broke up."
"You don't seem sad."
"It was mutual."
The tension is thick, and Taehyung is definitely on Jeongguk's side. Jimin can't say he blames him. The two boys enter their apartment without a sound, and Jimin heads straight for the bathroom.
'Welcome Home Loser.'
The words stare at him accusingly in bright blue on the bathroom mirror, and Jimin groans, hoping this isn't what he thinks it is. A loud 'what the hell' from his flatmate's room confirms his fears, and sure enough, the words are on every single mirror in their apartment (it's not in permanent ink though, he's lucky).
What a very Jeongguk thing to do.
Taehyung returns to the living room to find Jimin curled up into a ball on the couch.
"Tae, I made him really mad," the smaller boy whispers, hugging himself.
"Well yeah, he did come all the way here to see you," Taehyung agrees, settling down next to him, "He even took his gift back."
"No, you don't understand. I missed Snowball Day," Jimin sniffles into a cushion, and it sounds pitiful, even to him, "I never miss Snowball Day. God, I'm so sorry."
The taller boy melts at the sight of his friend looking so tiny, so sad. He ruffles Jimin's hair. "Then tell him, Chim."
With a red nose and wet eyelashes, the orange-haired boy looks up. "But he's so mad."
Taehyung smiles, subtle and warm, and a little secretive. "I think he might just listen to you."
He hands Jimin his phone, patting him awkwardly—but not unkindly—on his shoulder. Palms sweating, Jimin thinks of a long, heartfelt apology to type up, but decides against it.
To: my golden star
it's me. i know you're upset (you have every right to be), and this is completely insensitive of me to ask, but... can i be a little selfish? can we re-do snowball day tomorrow? i'll leave for busan tomorrow morning.
(i have a gift for you too, gukkie, and an apology)
- love, your manggaetteok
Jimin can only hope it'll work.
He's buttoning up his coat in the morning when his phone buzzes and Jimin nearly trips. It's from Jeongguk, telling him to stay put, because he's on the train, almost in Seoul. Jimin wants to tear his hair out, because why does Jeongguk do this? Why does he always shake up Jimin's heart to the very core?
"Good luck," Taehyung tells him quietly as he makes his way outside—like he knew Jeongguk was going to do this all along. Jimin just nods, too nervous to really do anything.
He sits on the steps in front of the building, feet lightly tapping against the ground. He's about to doze off, when his beanie gets snatched off his head, something ice-cold being slapped in its place. Snapping awake, he sees the familiar pair of Timberlands parallel to his own feet and lifts his head up to catch a glimpse of the owner. Jeongguk stands, arms crossed, a frown adorning his features.
"Well? Are you going to re-do it or what?" His voice is low, pissed off like Jimin's never witnessed before. The elder hurriedly gets to his feet, fiddling with his fingers. "What's with you these days?"
"I'm sorry," Jimin starts, and the other boy gazes at him expectantly, "I—I'm sorry."
"And I want an explanation," Jeongguk huffs, reaching down to grab a handful of snow, and Jimin mirrors him quickly.
"I'm really sorry!" Jimin cries, ducking down in time to miss Jeongguk's throw, "I just... forgot!"
"Right," Jeongguk deadpans, grabbing another handful of white fluff, "Like how you forgot I exist? Well done, Jimin. I want to at least know why you did that!"
"I—" Jimin stops to think his words over. What is he meant to tell Jeongguk? That he avoided him because he has a huge, fluffy crush on him the size of Jupiter, and was scared that their friendship would crumble? The excuse sounds childish and cliché, even to Jimin. "I can't!" he shouts, tossing his snowball at the other boy, who punches straight through it (what the heck?).
"Why the hell not!" Jeongguk roars, and kicks a small pile of snow between them, right at Jimin.
"You child!" Jimin chides, dropping his snowball-in-progress, in favour of tackling the younger boy to the ground.
"Says you, tinyass middleschooler!" The taller boy snarls, shoving a whole lot of snow into Jimin's jacket. He shivers at the sudden chill, but manages to heave a pile of snow over Jeongguk's vacant arm, half-burying it.
"Tell me the truth Jimin," the younger growls again, effortlessly freeing his arm, and flipping them over so that he's got Jimin trapped beneath him. "Why are you avoiding me? Tell me."
Jimin squirms under him, kneeing him in the stomach, lightly enough to simply shock him, and uses his surprise to roll them over. He holds Jeongguk down by his shoulders, swinging a leg over his waist and straddling him. And despite this, it's still the younger that looks more menacing.
"Say it," he eggs on, and his eyes are a wildfire of emotions—fury, hurt, hope, Jimin doesn't even know. "It's because—"
"Because I like you, you dumbass!" Jimin shrieks, eyes screwing shut, and suddenly there's utter silence. He's afraid to open them, afraid to face rejection. Jimin's arms give out and he plummets forward, Jeongguk below to cushion his fall (how is it that they always end up in this pose?).
"Because I—I like you so much and I would rather distance you from me before you did it yourself," Jimin mumbles, the lack of response causing a whole new rush of fretfulness, "I'm sorry, Guk—I'm sorry."
He feels Jeongguk shift under him, and cringes, waiting to be shoved off him. It's pleasantly surprising and ten times as confusing when long fingers card through his hair instead, and a tiny, childlike laugh sounds from the boy underneath him.
"Manggaetteok, you are so dumb." Jeongguk sounds amused and exasperated at once, and Jimin doesn't know what to do. "I've been dropping hints all of last year—are you serious?"
"W-what?"
The gentle fingers stop, and for a second Jimin wonders if that was the wrong response. He's almost convinced it is, when Jeongguk sits up (like Jimin's not even on top of him—just what has he been doing at the gym?), and pushes the elder out of their rather close position.
"I'm saying." Why are their faces so close all of a sudden and why are Jeongguk's eyelashes so damn gorgeous? "That I really like you too, you fucking idiot."
It takes his mind a few seconds to process the news, and even then, he asks, "Are you... sure?"
Jeongguk snorts, nosing at his cheek and Jimin feels his palms grow clammy, feels butterflies start up a parade in his stomach. This is too much.
"What do you think, manggaetteok?" he asks, no hint of mockery present, just tenderness and a lot of... something else.
Something that's... always been there. In all the visits he pays to Jimin, every gift he wraps up in bows and sparkling paper for him, in every glittering eye-smile and every ridiculous pet name thrown at him.
Something a lot like... love.
"Hmm?" he hums against Jimin's jaw, lips inching closer, so much closer, and Jimin thinks he's going to combust, "What do you think, Jiminnie?"
He thinks no more, and just lets Jeongguk take him by the lips. He tastes like French toast and cheap coffee, his chest feels warm and his heart pounds like a drum under Jimin's palm. His shoulders are broad and familiar, his lips are so gentle, and Jimin thinks, this is what he's been needing all this time.
This—his baby boy, his golden star.
They pull away, mirroring bashful smiles.
"I think—maybe you like me too."
He receives a handsome grin in reply, before Jeongguk ruins the moment by bringing up a hand from behind him, smashing some snow into the back of his head. He cackles when Jimin yelps, and pulls him into another kiss—rougher this time, but just as sweet.
"I win again," he breathes against Jimin's swollen lips afterwards. Then he pecks the elder's mouth again, and giggles dreamily. "I'm going to kiss you every time I win, from now on."
Jimin sits there, startled. He touches his lips in wonder, gawking at the younger. "Gukkie?"
"Yes, my lovely manggaetteok?"
Jimin leans forward, touching their foreheads together.
"I hereby declare all future victories to be yours."
When Jimin is twenty-one, he never keeps track of the scores again. Instead, he tucks away every smidgen of Jeongguk's love into a safer place—deep down, in the very core of his heart.