Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jimin is not lost.

It’s been years since he navigated these streets, but they will forever be as familiar as the back of his hand. Jimin’s friends trail behind him humoring the birthday boy as he storms around corners, huffing and puffing the whole way.

“Maybe we should go somewhere else, Min,” Hoseok says, speeding up to walk alongside Jimin. “It’s okay, there are so many—”

“I swear it’s on this street. I swear.”

When he notices the wobble in Jimin’s voice, Hoseok presses his lips together with a nod, links his arm with Jimin’s, and lets Jimin lead the way without another word.

Jimin can hear Yoongi and Taehyung murmuring behind them as they walk. They discuss whether it’s smart to go to yet another bar, that Jimin is far too intoxicated, that they should maybe start walking back towards the hotel, that Jimin probably wouldn’t even notice.

“I can hear you, you know,” Jimin slurs over his shoulder. The maneuver has Jimin tripping over his feet. Hoseok holds him up with a tight grip on Jimin’s upper arm. An embarrassed blush warms Jimin’s cheeks—he hates it when he’s a sloppy drunk. His little party crew glides in front of a convenience store. Jimin plants his feet. “I want water.”

He then escapes Hoseok’s hold, lurching forward.

The convenience store’s lights make Jimin’s eyes ache, so he hurries to the drinks and grabs the first water bottle he sees. Hoseok, Yoongi, and Taehyung follow him like a personal entourage, righting the bottles Jimin knocks over on his quest, wincing when Jimin slams his water onto the counter. 

The attendant doesn’t even blink.

“Excuse me,” Jimin grunts as the attendant begins to ring him up. He hears Yoongi’s soft sigh at his back. “Siworae. The bar? Do you know where it is? Or have you at least heard of it? It should be here, but it’s not.”

The attendant blinks, bored.

“Mm,” they grunt an affirmation, handing Jimin’s card back. “That Lake House themed bar?”

“Yes!” Jimin whoops, twisting around to give his friends all a look that says, See?! I’m not crazy! “I’ve been looking for it for hours. We’re one street off, or something, aren’t we? It’s my birthday, you see, and I went to university over at the—”

“It used to be across the street,” the attendant interrupts. “But the bar isn’t there anymore. They closed it a few years ago and put in some public restrooms.” They wave a lazy hand, gesturing at the door. Through its grubby glass, Jimin can’t see much. He still makes an involuntarily mournful sound. The attendant shrugs. “Sorry.”

Silence hangs between the small grouping of bodies at the counter until the attendant shuffles away, slumping into a chair and pulling out their phone, a clear indication it’s time for Jimin and his friends to go.

“We should head back to the hotel, Jimin-ah,” Taehyung says, voice low. Jimin feels his best friend’s big, warm hand rest reassuringly on his shoulder. Still, a lump forms in Jimin’s throat. “I’m sure your bar was great. But we went to lots of other great bars, too, right?”

“...right,” Jimin mumbles. Then he grabs his water and strides out the door, tries his best to hide his dramatic devastation. Despite his efforts, he feels tears welling up. He looks to where his once favorite bar used to stand. Indeed, instead of the rickety entrance Jimin’s been searching for all night, there are well-lit public restrooms, people steadily milling in and out. What a fucking tragedy. He needs some space. “Gotta pee.”

Before anyone can respond, Jimin stumbles into the men’s room, carelessly clipping a few strangers’ shoulders on his way in. He swerves past the urinals and heads straight to a stall in the middle, slamming the door behind himself and plopping onto the toilet.

(Jimin doesn’t have to pee.)

The truth is, maybe Jimin is a little lost. His friends planned this weekend to get him out of Seoul for a weekend, to distract him from the shitshow that has become his adult life. At first, Jimin was ecstatic. His years in Busan may have been his best. Jimin was popular in high school, top of his class. He got early entrance into the college of arts and graduated with honors.

Life was easy. Life was good.

But then Jimin moved to Seoul.

Scoring a job that catered to Jimin’s degree in dance was next to impossible. At first he freelanced, but after half a year, Jimin had already torn through his savings. Eventually he settled for a gig as an instructor. That carried him for a good while until he was laid off—the day before he and his friends were scheduled to take off for Busan.

So now, instead of reminiscing and drinking to celebrate Jimin’s 27th year of life, Jimin is drinking to forget. He’s drinking to try to relive his glory days, to remind himself what it feels like to be young and successful with bright possibilities on the horizon.

Jimin feels pathetic hiding in this bathroom stall, grieving because a silly bar has closed down. But Siworae felt like Jimin’s last ditch effort to prove to his friends how much fun he can be, to show them how cool he is. But even that failed, just like everything else Jimin does these days. At least it’s been a few years since the last time he was dumped.

“Aish,” Jimin groans, scraping his hands down his face. His cheeks are sticky, his eyes burn. He twists the cap on his water and takes a long swig. As he does, something catches his eye. “Huh?”

As are most public restrooms in the city, this restroom is well-maintained. The floor is spotless, and if Jimin were to check, he is sure the toilet he currently sits on is, too. Even the stall’s walls are squeaky clean, likely wiped down several times a day by an ahjumma armed with disinfectant. 

So it comes as a surprise when something catches Jimin’s eye, something that is so achingly out of place, it chills Jimin to the bone.

His name is written on the wall.

jimin-hyung
pls text me
+82 051-0007-5813

“What…?”

Jimin is drunk, so his germophobic tendencies are severely watered down. He reaches out a hand and runs a few fingers over the lone, markered message. The letters don’t smudge; all he feels is the grainy texture of plastic laminate. When he brings his hand back to his face, his fingertips are clean.

He stares at the graffiti again.

The message is a bit sloppy, like whoever wrote it was in a hurry. Or maybe they were as drunk as Jimin is right now, because though Jimin’s sitting stock still, the words in front of him tilt and whirl. Jimin stares for a bit longer, waiting for his brain to catch up. The area code is Busan. He squints, trying hard to recognize the handwriting.

Maybe it’s someone Jimin knows.

Or maybe it’s someone playing a prank on him.

Or…

Jimin’s thoughts steer towards the (murderously) worst.

“Jimin? You okay?”

Taehyung’s voice bounces through the empty bathroom, jolting Jimin out of his spiral.

“Tae,” Jimin whimpers. “Come here.”

In half a second, Taehyung’s loafers appear in the open space beneath the stall’s closed door. Jimin quickly unlocks it, letting Taehyung squeeze in.

“What is it, Min?”

“Look.”

Jimin points at the message on the wall, watching Taehyung’s reaction very closely. Taehyung squints, eyebrows squished together, mouth twisted into a thoughtful pout.

“Hm.” Taehyung rubs his stubbly chin before turning back to Jimin. “That’s weird.” Then he shrugs and grabs Jimin’s arm. “C’mon, let’s go. Yoongi-hyung is about to fall asleep standing up.”

“Wait!” Jimin hisses, yanking his arm free. “Do you think I should text the number? What if it’s someone I know?”

“Jimin,” Taehyung says, reaching for Jimin’s waist this time. “Your name is super common. It was probably some drunk college kid fucking with their friend or something.”

“But most Jimins are girls,” Jimin urges, turning back to make sure the scribbled characters are still there. (They are.) “What are the odds there is another dude named Jimin who has a younger dude friend that is trying to get a hold of him through- through some sketchy restroom vandalism?”

“Jimin…” Taehyung sighs.

“I’m taking a picture, at least.”

“Alright, whatever. Then can we go?”

Jimin tries not to stomp his foot and pout.

(He is not successful.)

“Fine.”

So Jimin snaps a few pictures of the message addressed to someone else’s Jimin-hyung and then begrudgingly follows Taehyung out to the street. There, they find Hoseok and Yoongi on the corner. Hoseok gives himself little slaps to his cheeks to keep his eyes open. Yoongi seems to have given in, swaying while he stands there with his eyes closed.

“Hyung,” Jimin hollers. Both Yoongi and Hoseok snap to attention. “Look at this. Look.”

He shoves his phone’s screen in their faces.

“What is it?” Yoongi frowns and squints. 

“It’s blurry, I can’t tell,” Hoseok mumbles and blinks.

Jimin scowls and looks at the photo on his phone. Okay, yeah, not the best picture. He scrolls to the next one. Ah, yes. Much better.

“Oh,” Yoongi says. “Did you write that? It kinda looks like your handwriting.”

Jimin scoffs. “No!”

“Are you sure?” Hoseok asks.

Jimin yanks his phone away.

“No,” Jimin snaps, crossing his arms. Taehyung stands back, looking impatient and tired. Jimin checks the time on his phone before pocketing it with a sigh. It is late. “Forget it. Let’s go back to the hotel.”

No one argues.

For the duration of their walk back, Jimin runs through several different conclusions in his head. On one hand, Jimin could just forget this night never happened and go back to his mediocre life. That’s probably what any sane person would do. 

On the other hand, Jimin could do some research, see if he can figure anything out about the strange message and the mysterious phone number. Perhaps he can turn to the internet and check public records, maybe find a corresponding name or even an address. But Jimin quickly whisks this idea aside, too. It feels very stalkerish. Sure, leaving a phone number on a public bathroom stall opens one up to questionable reception, but Jimin isn’t that kind of guy, you know?

By the time Jimin flops his exhausted body into bed with Taehyung, squirming around until Taehyung’s bear hug isn’t poking his ribs, he’s decided that he should forget the strange message ever happened, just like everyone else. Yoongi and Hoseok have clearly moved on, curled around each other on the other hotel double bed, ignorant to Jimin’s crisis. And Taehyung’s breathing deepens and his limbs grow heavy, seemingly succumbing to sleep without a care in the world. 

Once comfortable, Jimin gingerly pulls out his phone and brings up the best picture of the bathroom stall that he has. Then, he saves the number in his phone.

Just in case.

“You’re not gonna text that random number, are you?” Taehyung asks in a hushed whisper, groggily pulling Jimin close. Jimin nearly jumps out of his skin. “It’s probably some creep looking to—”

“No,” Jimin interrupts, stuffing his phone under his pillow. “That would be stupid. Don’t worry, okay? It’s almost morning. Let’s sleep.”

Jimin can feel Taehyung nod, his wispy hair tickling Jimin’s nose. But even after Taehyung’s puppy snores putter across Jimin’s chest, after Hoseok mumbles through his dreams and Yoongi breathes heavy and slow, Jimin’s eyes stay wide open. 

And despite his best efforts, despite the absurdity of it all, a few rogue tears escape, slowly trailing down his nose.

»»—  ☽  —««

Unemployment is unflattering on Jimin.

Luckily, he’s lived with Hoseok since they met during Jimin’s brief stint in freelancing many years ago. And then Yoongi moved in soon after, and Taehyung essentially lives on their couch (even though his apartment is way nicer than theirs). Therefore, Jimin is very rarely alone. But during the day when everyone is at work and Jimin is not, he is left to his own devices, frantically sending out every job application that he can.

It’s only been a week, but Jimin is already growing frustrated. The few companies that have gotten back to him have all politely declined, and the rest he assumes will just ghost. But there’s only so much Jimin can do. With a degree and job experience solely in dance, his options are painfully limited.

When Jimin isn’t job searching, he wallows.

Hoseok and Yoongi have assured him time and time again that he needn’t worry about his portion of rent. But this only makes Jimin feel worse, like he doesn’t deserve their generosity nor their friendship. He feels like an unbearable burden—financial and emotional. 

Because when Hoseok and Yoongi are home, or when Taehyung is visiting, Jimin can’t help but ask for mountains of reassurance. Of course his friends offer it freely, hugging him tight, promising things will get better. 

But the more that they love him, the less Jimin feels he deserves it.

Despite the temporary comfort, the more kindness Jimin’s friends lend to him, the worse he feels. He should have known this was coming. He should have anticipated this hiccup, especially after struggling with work for so long. Especially since his attitude has dipped alongside his luck. Especially with his low self-esteem and low motivation to do anything to change it.

There is very little Jimin thinks about outside of his failures—besides one exception. Since returning to Seoul from his birthday weekend in Busan, there is something that lingers in his mind no matter how hard he tries to forget.

jimin-hyung, pls txt me.

Jimin doesn’t even have to look at the shoddy pictures on his phone anymore to recite the mysterious midnight message he found sharpied on the stall. He’s memorized the number by now, sees it behind his closed eyes every time he goes down for a fitful night of sleep. He promised his friends he wouldn’t even entertain the thought of reaching out to whoever wrote the request. He owes them that much, since they’ve been dealing with him so well, since they listen to his whining and are still by his side.

But his curious urges grow every single day.

And today, Jimin finally cracks.

He’s in his usual spot on the couch when it happens. Hoseok and Yoongi are off working, and Taehyung’s been busy with a new project, so he hasn’t been around. The lonely ache in Jimin’s chest is distracting. Jimin’s resume is open on his laptop, but the words blur together until the screen’s a jumbled blob. If he tries to revise it now, Jimin will probably end up with a think piece on why he’s unhirable. 

Before he ruins his work, he snaps his laptop shut and shoves it aside. His phone is tucked under his leg, its charging cord snaked across the sofa toward the powerstrip shoved into the crease of the opposite armrest (which Yoongi has warned Jimin again and again is a fire hazard—he doesn’t seem to understand why that’s the least of Jimin’s worries). Jimin snatches his phone up and unplugs it, curling himself into a ball before unlocking the screen.

Jimin may have told his friends he wouldn’t text the number saved in his phone, but that hasn’t stopped him from opening a new conversation with it at least a dozen times. He’s typed and deleted just as many greetings—ranging from hello to what the fuck do you want? 

But today, Jimin doesn’t hesitate.

He finds the contact (saved under busan bathroom boy ) and pulls up a new chat. Before he loses his nerve, he composes his message.

me [11:54:09]
hey…?

(You wouldn’t believe how much thought went into that one.)

Jimin remains balled up with his phone, obsessively refreshing the conversation for at least half an hour. But eventually his stomach growls, and his right arm is starting to fall asleep. So he groans and sits up, abandoning his phone on the couch in favor of putting water on the stove to boil for some ramen.

As much as he wants to keep his nose glued to his phone, Jimin doesn’t return to the couch after slurping his noodles. He leaves his phone there and decides to clean the apartment instead of letting himself fret for the rest of the day.

(The epitome of mental health!)

By the time Hoseok gets home, the dirty dishes in the sink are filed neatly on the drying rack, the counters are scrubbed clean, and the floors are thoroughly mopped. Jimin even went so far as to clean his own room—actually clean, not just shove everything on his floor sneakily under his bed. Hoseok takes it all in with wide eyes and a smile before tackling Jimin with a tight hug and (embarrassing) kisses to his neck and hot ears.

Then Taehyung comes over for dinner, and Yoongi eventually shows up after a late night at work. They all crowd on the sofa—Jimin’s phone and extension cord tossed carelessly to the floor for more sitting room—and watch a few episodes of their current drama, and Jimin almost forgets about his risky text.

(Almost.)

By the time Hoseok calls it a night, dragging Yoongi to their room and kindly kicking Taehyung out, Jimin’s itching to check his phone. But he waits until Taehyung’s finished giving them all long, mushy hugs, until the lights are turned off, until Jimin retrieves his phone from the floor and transfers his charging set up to the little table next to his bed. Only then does he check his notifications. And when he does, his heart lodges tight in his throat.

There’s nothing.

The light, airy mood of the afternoon is immediately drowned in disappointment. Jimin chides himself. 

What did he expect? It is very likely the message wasn’t meant for him. In fact, Jimin is almost certain the person that left the message for their Jimin-hyung has no idea who he is. For all Jimin knows, the message has been there on the bathroom stall’s wall for years, waiting for every gullible Jimin to send a text that will never be received.

So Jimin puts his phone on his nightstand face-down and slams his face into his pillow, squeezing his eyes shut. 

That’s enough naivety for the day.

»»—  ☽  —««

Jimin wakes up groggy and disoriented.

It’s still dark, the faint sounds of cars driving by outside the window the only noise in the apartment. Jimin lays there on his back, staring blankly into the stark blackness until his vision adjusts, showcasing the speckled ceiling of his room. For a moment, Jimin tries to remember his dreams, tries to discern whether it was a nightmare that woke him or a loud noise outside.

A faint buzzing at his side answers his questions.

With a tired little huff, Jimin rolls over and reaches for his phone. With one eye open and one eye closed, he unlocks his phone and glares at the screen, expecting a text from Taehyung or an email or something else equally routine and expected. 

When his brain finally catches up, though, Jimin gasps and nearly chucks his phone across the room.

busan bathroom boy [03:46:51]
Hey
Whos this ?

Jimin’s heart pounds.

He’s wide awake now.

He didn’t really plan this far ahead. Still, Jimin sits up in bed and thinks of a response as quickly as possible in case this mystery man disappears just as quickly as he came. 

me [03:50:02]
shouldn’t i be asking you that?

He grips his phone tight to his chest, refuses to close his eyes for longer than a few blinks. It feels like hours pass before Jimin finally gets a reply, but when he does, he’s ready.

busan bathroom boy [03:58:33]
I am so confused

Jimin laughs to himself.

me [03:59:24]
lmao, same

Then, another ten minutes pass. Then fifteen. Jimin feels like pulling his hair out and crawling out of his skin. So, he ignores his own (silly) rules of texting etiquette and begins to type again, pulling up the picture taken in Busan that started it all.

me [04:17:14]
is this not your number?
[photo attached]

This time, the other’s response time is quick.

busan bathroom boy [04:19:53]
Who r u ??

Jimin has to bite his fist to keep from screaming.

me [04:20:48]
you get one guess

busan bathroom boy [04:22:05]
Seokjin-hyung ???
This isnt funny

“Oh my fucking god,” Jimin says aloud.

me [04:22:49]
omfg

busan bathroom boy [04:24:33]
What

me [04:25:17]
my name is jimin
that’s why i’m texting you,
because you told me to
did you even look at the
picture i sent you?

busan bathroom boy [04:27:00]
My fone cant load pics
What does it say?

Jimin takes a deep breath for patience (and sanity), then begins to type an explanation with what he desperately hopes is a level head.

me [04:33:56]
ok, listen
last weekend, i was in busan
for my bday. my friends and i tried
to find my favorite bar siworae,
but we couldn’t find it anywhere.
turns out, it was demolished and
the lot was replaced w public
restrooms. when i went into
one of the stalls, a message was
written on the wall. it said,
“if you’re my jimin-hyung,
please text me” with your number.
so this is me following directions
because i’m a very good boy.

busan bathroom boy [04:36:07]
Wow lol
I don’t believe u
Nice try tho

Fuck level headedness.

me [04:37:21]
wow lol ok. was this fun?
did you watch me and my friends
outside of the restrooms after
i found your little message? did you
laugh at how freaked out i was?
hope you’re proud of yourself
block my number, asshole

Jimin’s about to block the number himself, but his phone buzzes the moment his thumb hovers over the red button on his phone’s screen.

busan bathroom boy [04:38:03]
Whoa, whoa hey
I’m sorry
Wait

Jimin pauses. 

This dude gets one last chance.

busan bathroom boy [04:38:44]
I thought u were 1
of my frends pranking me
But ur srs?

me [04:39:25]
i’m dead serious
who would make this shit up?

busan bathroom boy [04:40:12]
Idk. Its just…
I was at siworae last wknd
Thats one of my fav bars
I go there all the time

Something icy drops in Jimin’s gut.

me [04:40:59]
what do you mean

busan bathroom boy [04:41:22]
Youre talking about the bar on
Gwangan beach road, right?

The iciness spreads, sharp and tingly through Jimin’s chest. His phone feels like a brick when he types back his reply.

me [04:41:51]
yeah
that’s the one
it was definitely gone
a convenience store clerk
even confirmed it for us
they said it’s been years

busan bathroom boy [04:42:38]
Thats rlly weird
Cuz my friends and I were
literally just there. Btw
My name is Jeon Jungkook
So u kno Im not lying

Jimin takes a few breaths.

Something doesn’t feel right. He knows the bar wasn’t there when he and his friends were there, but his instincts tell him this man—this Jungkook—is telling the truth. He doesn’t want to call him a liar anymore. Or a creep. He just wants to understand. Maybe learning his name is having some sort of sympathetic response with Jimin, because suddenly, he has no idea what else to say.

A few more messages interrupt Jimin’s thoughts.

busan bathroom boy [04:47:16]
Ah, ur pic finally loaded
Ya, thats my #
But it doesnt really look like my
handwriting tbh. 2 sloppy

For some reason, this makes Jimin smile.

me [04:48:27]
ooooh
you must be pretty then
only pretty boys have
pretty handwriting

Jimin assumes Jungkook is floundering if his delayed response is any indication. This pleases Jimin. His smile widens.

busan bathroom boy [04:52:19]
Lol…oh
I guess

me [04:52:56]
prove it
send me a pic?

Jimin realizes he must be deliriously tired. He isn’t usually this forward. At least he seems to finally be getting somewhere.

busan bathroom boy [04:53:44]
I told you, my fone is 2 slow

me [04:54:03]
c’mon, don’t be shy

busan bathroom boy [04:54:32]
No, Im serious
The only time I can
send or get pics is when
Im on my dorms roof,
my fones plugged in,
Nd my charger is
@ 45 degree angle
Its a piece of shit

Jimin throws his head back and laughs.

me [04:54:57]
lmaoooo
are you for real????

busan bathroom boy [04:55:23]
Lol I wish I wasnt
My flip fone can only do so much

me [04:56:06]
wait, like the galaxy flip??
my roommate has one
says that he loves it
and that it works way
better than apple

busan bathroom boy [04:57:03]
Uh no, nvr herd of that
I have a razr

me [04:57:48]
whaaaaat
didn’t know motorola had a
razr smartphone

busan bathroom boy [04:58:34]
Lol what the hell are u tlkin abt
Ive had this for like
Seven years. First nd only fone
Ive ever had.
Its not smart
Its very dumb

me [04:59:13]
lolol
okayyyyyy ahjussi

busan bathroom boy [05:00:29]
Shut up lol
Im broke af, cant afford a new 1 rn
And Im only 20 btw

Jimin squints at his phone. 

Something feels…off.

me [05:01:07]
ok but
what 20 year old still
has a flip phone in 2022

It takes Jungkook an uncomfortably long time to respond.

busan bathroom boy [05:06:39]
Typo ?
Big thumbs??

Jimin looks at his thumbs—big?

No. They are in fact very small. 

me [05:06:55]
???????

What Jungkook says next chills Jimin to the bone, just like Jungkook’s sloppy message back in the Busan bathroom did a few days ago.

busan bathroom boy [05:07:42]
Its the yr 2012, Jimin-ssi

At this point, Jimin is shaking like a leaf under the covers. Something about this conversation is very off. Jimin wishes he could believe Jungkook has been fucking with him this whole time. That would make more sense than whatever this is. But that doesn’t seem like a viable argument anymore. 

Jimin’s gut tells him Jungkook is serious.

me [05:09:28]
no, it’s not. it’s 2022
if it was 2012, I would only be
17 years old. do I sound like a
teenager to you?

busan bathroom boy [05:09:57]
I mean…

me [05:10:14]
ha ha
very funny

Jungkook doesn’t respond as quickly as he has been. Jimin lays there on his bed, staring at the ceiling again. The light filtering into his room through his shitty curtains is lightening up, fading from black to grey, an indication the sun’s coming up and another day’s about to begin.

Jimin should probably go to sleep.

Perhaps this is all a dream.

(Or maybe he needs to wake up.)

me [05:13:09]
it’s getting really late
or early
or…whatever lol
is it 5 in the morning
for you, too?

Of course now Jungkook answers promptly.

busan bathroom boy [05:13:29]
Ya

me [05:13:58]
okay
then we should sleep
maybe we can talk
more tomorrow?

busan bathroom boy [05:14:33]
Ok

Jimin heaves a heavy sigh.

me [05:15:07]
…okay
goodnight

A few minutes pass, and a message from Jungkook doesn’t pop up. So Jimin sighs again and sets his phone aside, burrowing deep into his sheets. But just as he gets comfortable, his phone buzzes, and he nearly falls out of bed. And the message he reads, as simple as it is, makes him grin ear-to-ear despite the unsettled feelings that still fester.

jungkook-ssi [05:29:16]
Goodnight Jimin-ssi
Sleep well

»»—  ☽  —««

When Jimin wakes up mid-afternoon, he immediately grabs his phone. It was a restless night (day) of sleep. Jimin’s thoughts whirring full-speed, non-stop, did not help.

After opening his messaging app and confirming last night’s (this morning’s) conversation with the Busan Bathroom Boy aka Jungkook was in fact real and not a dream, Jimin places his phone face down on his chest and stares blankly at the illuminated ceiling once again.

He has so many questions.

Who is this Jungkook?

Did he write the message on the wall? Or is he telling the truth? Was it perhaps his Seokjin-hyung playing a prank, or is there something else going on?

And perhaps most pressing:  Is Jungkook really living in the year 2012? Is he really texting Jimin from his shitty flip phone from over ten years ago?

As much as Jimin’s logical brain would love to believe this is a joke—just some stupid college kids getting off on fucking around with a stranger—there’s something about the situation that feels deeper, more disturbing than a simple, childish trick. 

Jungkook was quick to joke around with Jimin, but at the same time, he was sincere. He was apologetic, too, and if Jimin’s instincts aren’t mistaken, Jungkook was just as shaken up as him.

There’s only one way to get to the bottom of this.

Jimin lifts his phone off his chest with a sigh.

me [14:23:09]
hey jungkook-ssi
what’s up?

Jimin snorts.

It feels incredibly strange speaking so casually after their eerie conversation a few short hours ago.

After lying in bed for another half hour, Jimin figures Jungkook is going to take just as long to reply today as he did the day before. So Jimin gets up, throws a hoodie over his bare chest and briefs, and heads to the kitchen to make himself some food. When Jimin is greeted by Taehyung laying spread eagle on the couch, he yelps.

“Good afternoon, my love,” Taehyung croons, stretching his limbs until they hang off the ends. “Rough night?”

“God, Taehyung,” Jimin huffs, holding his hand to his heart. He also discreetly slips his phone into his hoodie’s front pocket—just in case. “You scared me.”

“I know, I’m pretty scary,” Taehyung teases, standing from the couch and loping to the fridge. “I brought you some breakfast. Don’t know if it’s any good anymore, I thought you’d be up earlier than midday.”

“Ah. Thank you.” Jimin awkwardly shuffles to the counter where Taehyung plops a takeout container. When Jimin opens it, he finds a few scallion pancakes stacked high. “I don’t deserve you.”

“True,” Taehyung dramatically sighs. “Nobody does.”

So Jimin reheats his pancakes (though they’re bound to be rubbery by now), and Taehyung offers up a round of twenty questions.

“Why’d you sleep in so late?”

“I don’t know. Just tired.”

“You’re quiet. What are you hiding?”

“Nothing.”

“Did you finish that drama without me?”

“No.”

“How were the pancakes? There were six of them, but I ate a couple because you were taking so long and I was so hungry…”

“Tae,” Jimin grunts, swallowing the last bite of his meal. “Weren’t you supposed to go into the studio today?”

“Oh! Yeah,” Taehyung chirps. “But I felt a disturbance in our soulmate connection, so I came here to check on you instead.”

Jimin feels caught. A blush creeps up his neck.

“Oh, well. I’m fine. So.”

Taehyung squints and rubs inquisitively at his chin (today, it’s cleanly shaven) before sagely saying, “I’m not convinced.” And then, with the worst timing ever, Jimin’s phone buzzes obnoxiously in his front pocket. Without thinking, he hectically reaches in to silence it. Jimin knows exactly who it is. Of course Taehyung notices. “Oh? Who’s that? Why do you look so guilty?”

“Tae…” Jimin groans.

Jimin must not have actually silenced his phone, because it buzzes again in his hand.

“Well? Aren’t you going to check it?”

“No,” Jimin says. “I will later.”

His ears are burning with his blush now, and he is sure his cheeks are pink. Of course Taehyung notices that, too.

“Oh, c’mon. You know you don’t have to be all shy and polite with me,” Taehyung says cheekily, placing an elbow on the kitchen counter and resting his chin in his hand. He grins—not maliciously, but not innocently, either. “Go on. Take a peek.”

“Really, it’s fine, we should—”

“Is this person the reason you didn’t sleep at all last night? Hm?” Taehyung asks, interrupting Jimin’s lame deflection. Sometimes Jimin feels blessed to have a best friend like Taehyung, someone who understands him through and through. But other times—times like this—Jimin wishes he was able to maintain at least a tiny air of mystery. “Do you have a secret admirer, Jimin-ah?”

Jimin’s face sets further aflame. “No.”

Taehyung laughs. 

“When will you learn you can’t keep secrets from me?” 

“It’s just,” Jimin starts, swallows, tries not to choke on his own words. “He’s just—he’s a friend, that’s all, Tae-yah. I swear.”

Not exactly the truth; not a lie, either.

But it must be enough for Taehyung.

(For now.)

“Okay,” he drawls, drawing each syllable out. “I’ll let it go. But you know I’m a nosy bitch. You’ll spill soon enough.”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “If you say so.”

After Jimin washes up and gets some pants on and lets Taehyung do his makeup, he and Taehyung spend the rest of the afternoon and evening walking around the neighborhood, shopping for art and photography supplies Taehyung needs and admiring the fresh fall fashion displayed in local stores’ windows. Taehyung must feel a little guilty for prying over Jimin’s afternoon breakfast, because he buys him a black beanie, to “keep his sweet little head warm.”

Jimin doesn’t have any alone time to look at his phone and check if the messages he received earlier were indeed from his Busan boy. He wonders if Taehyung did this intentionally—upping the chances Taehyung can read Jimin’s messages over his shoulder if he dares check his phone. 

But then again, when they’re together, it is very rare they aren’t hip to hip. Jimin tells himself he needs to quit being so damn paranoid and let his best friend treat him well.

So when they finally return to Jimin’s apartment and Taehyung bids him farewell from the sidewalk out front, Jimin only waves at Hoseok and Yoongi sprawled out on the couch and heads straight for his bedroom. Perhaps it’s embarrassing to be going to bed only five hours after waking up, but Jimin couldn’t be bothered when he strips back to his boxers, crawls into bed, and finally pulls out his phone.

jungkook-ssi [14:46:53]
Hey
Nm, u?

Jimin shouldn’t let Jungkook’s desert-dry greeting bother him. He really, really shouldn’t. That would mean he cares, and that would be silly.

Because he doesn’t.

(Really, he doesn’t!)

He types back a very careless response.

me [20:27:11]
ah, sorry for the late reply
spent the afternoon w my bff hehe
did you have a good day?

When Jungkook replies almost immediately, Jimin’s tummy does an unwelcome, giddy flip.

jungkook-ssi [20:27:56]
Np
Ya I did

The giddiness is squashed.

Jimin chews his lip. Apparently he’s going to have to pry some liveliness out of Jungkook this evening.

me [20:29:12]
good !!
what all did you do ??

jungkook-ssi [20:31:11]
Nm

This dude is going to drive Jimin mad.

His phone buzzes again, but the text is not redeeming.

jungkook-ssi [20:32:55]
Work, class, gym
Thts abt it

me [20:33:35]
are you okay???
you’re being very.. short

jungkook-ssi [20:35:17]
Sorry
Im bad at txting

Jimin refrains from replying, clearly.

Honestly, if Jungkook is really texting Jimin from a goddamned flip phone—presumably using the primitive multitap method—his short (and often slow) replies kind of make sense.

So Jimin grins and bears it.

me [20:37:00]
that’s okay

When Jungkook doesn’t reply after another five excruciating minutes, Jimin decides to take the leap.

me [20:43:57]
so are we just gonna pretend
our convo last night didn’t happen?

Another five minutes pass.

Then ten.

Jimin’s about to give up, when—

jungkook-ssi [20:55:02]
You started it

me [20:55:31]
…ok you’re not wrong

jungkook-ssi [20:56:49]
Lol

Jimin isn’t sure what to say next. Part of him wishes Jungkook would just end his misery, that he would come out and say he’s been messing around this entire time, that it all started as a drunken gag, that he’s let it drag on long enough. 

But the other part of Jimin wants to believe him.

As if Jungkook reads Jimin’s mind, he says—

jungkook-ssi [20:58:22]
Do u still think Im lying?
I swear Im not
This is weird 4 me 2

me [20:59:47]
idk…
it’s really 2012 for you?
because it’s really 2022 for me

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate.

jungkook-ssi [21:00:13]
Yes

Jimin lays there under his covers and thinks. He examines his own thoughts, questions his own motivations, and comes up with the conclusion that he really, truly does believe Jungkook.

This kid must be telling the truth.

me [21:03:35]
god, this is crazy

jungkook-ssi [21:04:51]
Ya…

Jimin flops around in bed, frustrated and flustered.

What now?

me [21:06:08]
ok
i’m going to quiz you
if you fail, you’re busted
are you ready?

jungkook-ssi [21:07:36]
Lol ok
Ya go for it
I wont fail 

Jimin smiles. Challenge accepted.

As quickly as he can, he brings up the internet and searches up a few facts from the past. He supposes Jungkook could do the same thing if he was just giving Jimin a hard time, but this feels like the only way to confirm his suspicions.

me [21:11:05]
alright
who is the president?

jungkook-ssi [21:11:42]
Easy
Lee Myungbak
But not 4 much longer
Election n all

Jimin almost asks how Jungkook feels about the first woman president about to be elected (and the shitshow that swiftly ensues). He decides against it. What if Jimin, like, upsets the space time continuum…or something?

Probably not worth the risk.

me [21:13:01]
hm. correct

jungkook-ssi [21:13:57]
I know

Cocky fucker. Jimin grins.

me [21:14:41]
ok next question
how was typhoon season?

jungkook-ssi [21:15:59]
BRO

Jimin shoves his face in his pillow to dampen his manic giggles. The last thing he needs is Hoseok hearing him, barging in, and asking questions, too. Jimin wouldn’t be surprised if Taehyung has already given Hoseok a heads up.

jungkook-ssi [21:16:12]
Typhoon sanba was insane
Strongest of the season
Busan was hit hard

Jimin huffs. Right again.

He needs to raise the stakes.

me [21:18:28]
do you like IU?

jungkook-ssi [21:18:58]
Wait
Was I rite?

Why is this boy dissolving Jimin into a puddle of giddiness? He needs to get a hold of himself.

me [21:19:37]
yessssss
you were correct
next! question!

jungkook-ssi [21:21:02]
Nice
Lol ya I hella stan IU
Dont tell my hyungs tho

Cute.

me [21:21:43]
ok, then what’s your fav
track off her latest album

jungkook-ssi [21:23:13]
Thats cruel
Only 1?

me [21:23:55]
hehe, yep

Jungkook takes a while to answer, so Jimin decides to throw a curveball. Maybe then Jungkook will strike out, and Jimin’s mind can rest easy.

me [21:26:04]
my fav is sireun nal c:
her lyricism is unmatched

Jungkook responds so quickly, Jimin hardly has time to be proud of himself for being so clever.

jungkook-ssi [21:26:22]
Wait
What

me [21:26:48]
…what?

jungkook-ssi [21:27:21]
Iu doesnt have a song
called sireun nal
Trust me
I would kno

Jimin’s hands feel clammy when he texts back.

me [21:28:36]
yes she does!!
you haven’t listened to
her lp modern times???
must not like her that
much after all…

jungkook-ssi [21:29:06]
No
No way
U just spoiled an IU album
from the fucking future for me
Didnt u
Say sike

Holy shit. Holy shit.

This guy’s for fucking real.

Jimin ignores Jungkook’s (admittedly adorable) outburst and jumbles out his next question. 

me [21:30:04]
whta’s the date for you,
jungkookssi

jungkook-ssi [21:31:20]
2012 10 26

me [21:31:59]
and the time?

jungkook-ssi [21:32:18]
9 32 PM

Exactly ten years in the past, to the minute.

me [21:32:42]
fuck

jungkook-ssi [21:33:01]
Finally believe me?

Jimin can’t believe he’s saying it, but—

me [21:33:30]
yeah
i guess i do

jungkook-ssi [21:34:56]
Told u I wouldnt fail

Jimin’s mind races with the implications. If Jungkook was—is?—20 years old in 2012, then that means…

me [21:36:29]
so you’re 20 in 2012
which means now…in 2022
you’re 30????????????

jungkook-ssi [21:37:37]
Lol
I guess?
Weird

me [21:38:48]
oh my god

Jimin is having a crisis.

Apparently Jungkook is less bothered.

jungkook-ssi [21:40:22]
Also
I’m still mad at u 4
spoiling IU’s comeback
Jerk. I will nvr forget
No more future fun facts
from you, pls adn thx

Jimin full-body laughs which is quite the feat, considering he is still very much in bed and still very much mid-crisis Then again, there’s enough adrenaline coursing through his system to move mountains.

There is too much to consider here, so Jimin ignores Jungkook’s IU breakdown. He’ll get over it.

Or, at least he will in the next ten years.

me [21:41:02]
this is sooo fucking weird
should I be calling you hyung
?!?!?!?

jungkook-ssi [21:42:23]
NO

Jimin laughs again, and his phone instantly buzzes. He nearly drops it, batting it around until he regains his grip. 

He guiltily opens the new chat window.

hobi-hyung [21:43:19]
what’s so funny jiminie?!?

Jimin scrambles.

me [21:43:31]
sorry hyung
watching youtube

hobi-hyung [21:44:06]
suuuuuuuuuuuuure
taehyungie said some interesting
stuff earlier.. 🤔
you wouldn’t lie to your hyung
would you?????

me [21:44:21]
never!

Definitely a lie.

hobi-hyung [21:45:01]
that’s what i thought~
I’m going to sleep soon!
keep it down u night owl u !!
xoxoxox

Jimin rolls his eyes, hearting the message.

Then he returns to his chat with Jungkook.

jungkook-ssi [21:42:44]
Pls god no

me [21:45:56]
ekekekeke okayyyy
but you can call me hyung
if you want

The memorized image of the message scrawled in the bathroom back in Busan flashes through Jimin’s thoughts. 

jimin-hyung …

jungkook-ssi [21:47:20]
Ok, Jimin-hyung

Jimin doesn’t know why the pixelated words make his heart flutter, but they really, really do.

jungkook-ssi [21:47:55]
I have a question
You dont have to answer

me [21:48:12]
???

jungkook-ssi [21:49:24]
Whats your family name?

Jimin doesn’t hesitate at all.

me [21:49:37]
park
my name’s park jimin

jungkook-ssi [21:51:04]
Nice to meet you
Park Jimin-ssi
From the future
Lol

Jimin swallows his laugh but lets his smile shine.

me [21:52:27]
nice to meet you too
jeon jungkook-ssi
from the past
heheheh

When Jungkook takes a while to respond, Jimin taps out the first thing that comes to mind, doing his best to keep the conversation alive. There’s no way he could fall asleep right now. No way he could even lay still.

me [21:56:31]
so does that mean i can
search you up on socmed now??
you have insta? twitter? facebook?
i wanna know what our little
jungkookie looks like hehe

jungkook-ssi [21:58:06]
Nope
No social media
Not my thing

me [21:58:43]
but maybe you do now!!
a lot can change in ten years

jungkook-ssi [21:59:58]
Doubt it

Of course Jimin takes this as a challenge, too.

It takes him fifteen minutes before he grows discouraged. There are a handful of Jeon Jungkooks active on the interwebs, but none of their ages really line up with Jimin’s Jungkook.

Jimin pouts.

me [22:17:26]
:c

jungkook-ssi [22:19:03]
Lol
Told ya

me [22:19:49]
send me a selca
:c :c

jungkook-ssi [22:21:12]
I told you I cant
My fone will blow up

me [22:22:04]
please???????

jungkook-ssi [22:23:31]
If I could I would
I promise

Jimin pouts some more.

me [22:24:45]
well what do you look like?

jungkook-ssi [22:25:53]
Idk

This may very well be Jimin’s villain origin story.

me [22:26:51]
come on…
:c :c :c

jungkook-ssi [22:26:50]
Lol Im just average, hyung
Short black hair
Pierced ears
I wear a lot of black
I like comfy clothes

Jimin tries to imagine it. A young bro in uni, drowning in his clothes, soft face, lean body (if his aforementioned gym attendance is a routine thing). But Jimin wants to know all the details, wants to have a face to match the name.

me [22:28:12]
tell me more, like
give me some facial
features or something

jungkook-ssi [22:30:09]
Lol hyung…thats weird

me [22:30:28]
>:c

jungkook-ssi [22:31:54]
Lol fine
I have big eyes
At least my hyungs say that
And my nose is kinda big
But not like 2 big
My nose is nice ok

me [22:32:12]
hehe i believe you

jungkook-ssi [22:32:57]
Ive also been told I have bunny teeth

me [22:33:03]
awwww you sound cute

jungkook-ssi [22:33:51]
Lol thanks
I think

Jimin smiles at his phone like a moron.

Before he thinks of a response, another message from Jungkook pings through. Any mushy feelings Jimin has are driven away by pure, unbridled horror.

jungkook-ssi [22:35:07]
So this means I can search u
up online too, right?

Fuck.

me [22:35:15]
NO
NO
NO
PLEASE NO

Jimin’s archive of pictures on social media goes way back. In 2012, his Facebook profile was still rather new, but back then he posted at least three times a day. Images pop up like unbidden war flashbacks—sideways snapbacks, droopy cut-offs, spiky hair, thick eyeliner.

He’s tempted to go online and delete them all, but that would do absolutely nothing to keep Jungkook—Jungkook from ten years ago, that is—from seeing them.

Fuck.

jungkook-ssi [22:37:23]
Laptop is firing up
Ur toast

me [22:37:52]
but you don’t have social media!!
how will you see????

jungkook-ssi [22:38:38]
Ive been logged into my
Seokjin-hyung’s fb on my
comp for like 3 months lol

me [22:39:04]
please don’t do this to me

jungkook-ssi [22:40:44]
Too late =]

Perhaps to torture himself even further, Jimin logs into his abandoned Facebook account and scrolls through thousands of photos—photos Jungkook is going to find way too easily with the information he has. Maybe Jimin should have taken cyber anonymity a little more seriously.

As much as Jimin would love to crawl under a rock and die from embarrassment, there are some real gems saved in his dusty account. He saves a few pictures of himself and Taehyung in their last year of high school, wearing their fugly uniforms in a rundown cafe, throwing up peace signs and pursing their lips like baby ducks. 

By the time Jungkook texts him again, Jimin’s gone through every stage of grief at least four times.

jungkook-ssi [22:53:07]
Wow hyung

me [22:53:53]
i tried to warn you
intense, isn’t it

jungkook-ssi [22:54:58]
Very intense
In an angry baby sort of way

me [22:55:41]
lmao, it’s the eyeliner

jungkook-ssi [22:56:25]
Definitely the eyeliner

me [22:57:46]
i look a lot different now
for the record
i’ve really leaned into my
gayness these past few years
don’t feel like i have to be so
tough and macho like a MAN

When Jungkook doesn’t reply for several minutes, Jimin realizes his mistake with a sinking feeling. The gay community wasn’t invisible back in 2012 by any means, but a lot has certainly changed in the past ten years. Jimin thinks he’s made it abundantly clear he’s queer, but maybe Jungkook hasn’t picked up on the cues. Maybe Jimin’s just made him uncomfortable. Maybe—

Jimin’s phone vibrates.

jungkook-ssi [22:02:40]
Ur gay?

me [22:03:21]
yeah..
thought that much
was obvious

jungkook-ssi [22:04:37]
No
Not rly

me [22:05:02]
oh.
ok

Suddenly the seriousness of Jimin’s position weighs heavy on his chest. He just outed his seventeen year old self to a total stranger who claims to be living ten years in the past.

What is he doing?

me [22:05:55]
please don’t try to contact me
i mean, like. 17yo me
i wasn’t out yet
honestly i didn’t really know
i was gay then, i was really
confused. just. please
i feel like that’s a bad idea,
anyway. we shouldn’t mess
with time or whatever.
seems kinda dangerous

Jimin feels physically ill when Jungkook’s measly reply finally dings through.

jungkook-ssi [22:07:13]
Ok

An inexplicable wave of sadness crests over Jimin, filling his eyes with tears and his chest with emotion. He feels very naive, like he’s seventeen all over again—lost, scared, and desperate to fit in.

For a while, he lays in bed, bites the soft flesh on the inside of his mouth and works hard to keep his tears from spilling onto his cheeks. Jimin abruptly has the urge to be held, and he very nearly abandons his phone, walks through the apartment, and crawls into bed with Hoseok and Yoongi.

(It wouldn’t be the first time.)

Instead, he shakily types one last message to Jungkook and tries to ignore the uncomfortable feeling tightening between his ribs.

me [22:10:31]
i think it’s time for me to
go to sleep, jungkook-ssi
goodnight

Jimin silences his phone before he frets over Jungkook’s reply and rolls over to face the window of his room. Though he’s hardly been awake for ten hours, his eyelids grow heavy, and he succumbs quickly to slumber. His dreams are blurry and blue, like Jimin’s swimming through the ocean with all of his might without making any progress at all.

And when he wakes up, he immediately reaches over and grabs his phone, unlocks the screen, and opens his messages, only to find the notification he expected to see isn’t there after all.

»»—  ☽  —««

A day passes. Then, a week.

Jimin doesn’t text Jungkook. Jungkook doesn’t text Jimin. At first, Taehyung and Hoseok and even Yoongi give Jimin grief about his secret ‘friend’ in his phone. Jimin expends too much energy playing along until he cracks, scolding his friends for acting so childish and asking that they please cut it out.

(Which they do—of course they do.

It’s Jimin who’s overreacting.)

At night, Jimin overthinks.

He tries to limit himself to obsessing only once per day, but he can’t stop scrolling through his and Jungkook’s conversations, over and over, checking to make sure it’s still there, checking to make sure it actually happened. 

Sometimes Jimin has dreams where he checks his phone and all the messages are gone, Jungkook’s number wiped from his contacts, the pictures Jimin took zapped from existence. After these dreams, Jimin hastily reaches over to check his phone, to make sure his dream was just that.

The entire situation feels out of reach, like reality has warped itself to allow contact between Jungkook and Jimin. Jimin goes back and forth—one minute so sure Jungkook was telling the truth, the next so sure this ‘Jungkook’ is a farce. When Jimin tries to wrap his head around it all, he starts to feel faint, like the recent events fall under the category of make-believe.

After such a long period of radio silence, Jimin tries to accept that whatever glitch in the matrix he and Jungkook experienced is over now. He tries not to attribute his experience to an unstable mind, tries to give at least some credit to himself. His life may be spiraling, but his sanity is not. 

(At least he hopes that it’s not.)

But once Jimin is starting to feel like he’s back on his feet—he even has a couple job interviews lined up!—his phone buzzes one monotonous night as he’s falling asleep. 

And of course it’s from him. 

jungkook-ssi [23:44:37]
Hey

Jimin considers ignoring him.

Really, he does.

The kid—if he’s telling the truth—is only 20 years old. What business does Jimin have messing around with him, anyway? Jungkook has a whole life left to live, and Jimin is balls deep in a quarter-life crisis. Why should he let his own shitty situation weigh Jungkook down, too? If Jimin keeps communicating with this Jungkook of the past, there’s a chance he could fuck up Jungkook’s future potential.

Jimin puts his phone back down.

He rolls over, glares at the wall.

He tosses and turns. Kicks off his sheets.

Then he huffs and says aloud, “God damnit,” before rolling back over and checking his phone.

me [23:56:22]
hi

This time, when Jimin lays his phone on his chest and waits for another message to buzz through, he feels very silly. Borderline stupid. But when his phone vibrates after just a few minutes, that heavy something that has been residing in Jimin’s chest lifts and soars.

jungkook-ssi [23:59:04]
How r u?

Jimin punches out a reply that is a dozen lines long. He’s struggling. He’s confused. He’s frustrated and scared. He’s doing better, he’s doing worse. He wants answers. He wants to disappear.

His thumb hovers over the send button.

Then, he deletes it all.

me [00:03:51]
i’m fine
you?

jungkook-ssi [00:05:23]
I’m ok

Jimin stares at his phone for what feels like a very long time, but in reality is less than a minute. When it buzzes again, he nearly drops it on his face.

jungkook-ssi [00:05:48]
So um
I wanted to apologize

Jimin’s heart leaps into his throat.

me [00:05:58]
for what?

jungkook-ssi [00:06:43]
4 disappearing on u
That wasnt cool

Jimin clenches his jaw. There’s something about Jungkook's acknowledgment of what he did that has all of Jimin’s negative emotions he’s suppressed this past week boiling up to the surface. 

me [00:07:34]
no, it really wasn’t
yknow, if you’re a
homophobe, you should
just lose my number now.
i’ve dealt with that shit
enough. dont need some kid
treating me like a deviant.
you don’t know anything

jungkook-ssi [00:08:16]
No no no
Thts not it hyung
Im rly sorry if thts
how I came across

Jimin feels a bit like a jerk.

But he’s not going to give in.

me [00:09:59]
why did you do it then

jungkook-ssi [00:10:33]
Tbh I kinda freaked out

me [00:11:06]
lol, what?
never met a gay before??

jungkook-ssi [00:11:55]
Well…actually no
But thats not y

Jimin snorts again, begins typing a response, but—

jungkook-ssi [00:12:08]
I think I might be gay too

Oh.

Well, shit.

Maybe Jimin is a fucking jerk.

And maybe Jimin should apologize, too.

me [00:13:27]
oh jungkookie..
i’m so sorry
i shouldn’t have assumed
are you ok?

jungkook-ssi [00:15:03]
No pls dont be sorry
Im fine
Its just a lot to type
Can I call u?

Jimin feels like he has whiplash.

Fifty questions and worries and potential responses whir between Jimin’s ears. But before he has the time to sort through them and pick one to type out, his phone buzzes wildly with a call.

“Oh fuck,” Jimin whispers.

Then, with a wobbly touch, Jimin answers.

“...yeoboseyo?”

“Annyeong, Jimin-hyung.” What Jimin didn’t expect was for Jungkook’s voice to have a physical effect on him. Goosebumps prickle down his arms, a warm trill runs up his spine. Jimin tries to gather words—even one word. He must take too long, because before his voice returns, Jungkook asks, “Are you there?”

“Y-yes,” Jimin stammers. He keeps his voice low, a soft hum. The last thing he wants is to wake up his hyungs and have them blowing up his phone or worse, barging into his room. “Sorry. You just—you don’t sound the way I thought you would,” he admits, punctuating his idiotic reply with a nervous laugh.

Jungkook giggles, too.

“What, you thought I’d sound like a kid?”

He puts emphasis on the word kid, and Jimin gathers Jungkook probably didn’t like it when Jimin called him that earlier. Jimin also realizes yes, that is precisely what he expected Jungkook to sound like.

“Maybe,” Jimin teases.

But Jungkook doesn’t sound like a kid.

His voice isn’t particularly low or gruff. Rather, it’s airy and smooth, melodic and nice. There’s not a trace of the cocky edge Jimin imagined there’d be. It makes Jimin wonder what else he’s unknowingly, inaccurately dreamt up about Jungkook, what else he might learn.

“Well. I’m not a kid, Jimin-ssi.”

“Noted.” There’s a space filled with silence and the sound of their breathing. Jimin’s fills his empty room, and Jungkook’s crackles through the tiny speaker of Jimin’s phone. Jimin wonders how their voices are able to travel across the decade of time that separates them. If Jimin thinks about it too hard, he starts to feel faint. “So, what did you want to talk about, hm? What’s too long to type out through text?”

Jimin hears Jungkook take a long breath.

“Well, first I want to apologize again.”

“Ah, you don’t have to,” Jimin says, though his voice dips appreciatively. “This whole thing is…”

“…insane?”

Jimin huffs a laugh. 

“Yeah. That’s one way to put it.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook breathes, laughs a little, too. “But I’m still sorry. I think that sincerity is kind of lost through text.”

“Mm,” Jimin hums. He understands.

“I hardly ever text, it’s such a hassle. That probably didn’t translate well through my messages. There’s just…so much to say, and my thumbs can only do so much.”

Jimin laughs again. “That’s a mood.”

“Is it okay if I kind of, I don’t know. Lay it all out there?” Jungkook asks, voice tight. “I want to leave room for you to talk, too—of course. But there’s so much going on in my head, and I’ve been holding it in for so long, and…yeah. Is that alright? I know that’s a lot to ask a complete stranger, but I don’t really have anyone else I can talk to right now. At least about…y’know.”

Jungkook was right; he definitely isn’t a kid.

In less than a minute, Jungkook has squashed all of Jimin’s assumptions about his emotional maturity. In fact, Jungkook’s thoughtfulness makes Jimin feel like maybe he could learn a thing or two from him.

And yet, his heart aches for Jungkook. He remembers what it was like to be young and confused, remembers what it was like to be pent up with questions and curiosities deemed unacceptable by the rest of society, to feel othered and cast aside. 

When he was Jungkook’s age, he wished he had someone to confide in, to help sort out his worries. When he was Jungkook’s age, he was so tired of people telling him he was too young and dumb, that these phases would end, that he didn’t know who he was.

So he says, “Of course. You can trust me.”

The shaky, emotional breath Jungkook takes tells Jimin that is precisely what he needed to hear.

“Thank you, hyung.”

“Mm,” Jimin hums again, settling comfortably beneath his sheets. “So tell me. What’s going on in your head, hm? Tell hyung what’s the matter.”

“Aish, where do I start?” Jungkook chuckles. “Now that I have the floor, it feels like I have too much and nothing to say. Which is dumb because I’ve almost cried over this, like, three times in the past week.”

“Hm.” Jimin’s mouth twists. “Well, that’s okay. Now that I’ve grown up, I’ve realized it’s not good to hold back tears, Jungkook-ah. You should cry whenever you want to, whenever you need. There’s nothing worse than suppressing tears.”

“...yeah, you’re right. Thanks, hyung.”

Jimin’s heart aches.

Not only for Jungkook, and not only for his past self, but for his current self, too. Jimin could probably benefit from listening to his own advice every once and a while.

“Well,” Jimin says, forcing some cheer into his voice. “You say you think you’re gay. That’s a big place to start, but do you want to talk about it?”

There are muffled sounds on the other line, like Jungkook is shifting around. Jimin imagines him fidgeting, searching for some sort of meaning through movement.

“Yeah, sure. So. Um.” More shuffling, a sharp intake of breath. “I’ve never had a girlfriend. I know that doesn’t mean that I’m gay or anything, but I’ve never really wanted a girlfriend. At all. I never understood why all my friends would drool over stupid pictures on the internet or the popular girls in school.

“You know I like IU, of course, but it feels different than the way my friends like her. To me, she feels like a hug, someone who I admire and would love to be friends with. But my guy friends—well, my friends in high school, I guess—they would talk about the way they thought she would kiss, or what it would feel like to- to, like. Touch her and stuff.”

Jimin can’t help but cough out a laugh. The way Jungkook’s voice drips in disgust just from the mere thought of touching a girl screams alphabet mafia. But Jimin bites his tongue and lets Jungkook go on.

“Anyway. I just kind of ignored it as long as I could. But then I came to college and met my RA, and—well. I’m pretty sure I had a gay crisis.”

That makes Jimin snicker, too.

Jungkook lets out an annoyed huff.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Jimin gasps between whispered laughs. “You’re just so cute. I’m sorry. Go on.”

Jungkook groans—or maybe it’s a whine? Whatever it is, it’s a tiny, embarrassed little noise, and Jimin wishes he could reach through the phone and pinch Jungkook’s cheeks. 

“It’s alright, you can make fun of me. I’m pretty pathetic,” Jungkook sighs.

That sobers Jimin right up.

“Hush. You are not pathetic. There is nothing pathetic about being cute,” Jimin scolds. Jungkook makes another sound, this time apologetic, though just as much a whine. “Okay, I’ll shut up now. Tell me about your RA, yeah? What are they like?”

“Mm,” Jungkook harrumphs. “Well. His name is Namjoon. We’re actually really good friends now. He introduced me to my Seokjin-hyung, who reminds me a lot of my older brother. Acts like my dad half of the time. He’s such an asshole. I love him so much. But anyway! Yeah! When I met Namjoon-hyung, it was because I had to hand in my first-year dorm survey. I knocked on his door and he answered it in his boxers, and holy shit, Jimin-hyung. This man’s thighs…”

“Life-changing?” Jimin asks with a grin.

“Literally,” Jungkook says, very serious. “They’re fantastic thighs. But then I got to know him better, and he’s so smart, too. He’s helped me work through a lot of stuff—academic and personal—but I’ve never felt like I could bring this up with him. Because, like. How do I say, ‘Hey hyung! I think I might be gay. How do I know? Oh, well. One look at your naked legs completely changed my wank game.’”

Jimin chokes on his spit and has to shove his face into his pillow to keep quiet. After he’s regained control of his breathing and coughing and laughter, he brings his phone back to his ear.

“You gotta warn me before you say shit like that,” Jimin wheezes. But now that he’s calmed down, he senses something else threading through his thoughts. An uncomfortable something, a tug in his gut that makes him feel a little green. Is Jimin… jealous? He quickly shakes off the thought and buries it beneath his own teasing voice. “It sounds to me you’ve got a case of homosexuality, Jungkook-ssi.” Then, more seriously, “You don’t have to hide behind humor, you know. I know how tough this stuff can be.”

Jungkook is quiet after that. Jimin gives him space to talk while simultaneously working through his own weird feelings towards Jungkook’s gay awakening.

“I guess saying it all aloud makes it seem pretty obvious, huh?” Jungkook murmurs. “But sometimes I really question myself. I’ve never wanted to date any girls, but I haven’t really wanted to date any guys, either. Sure Namjoon-hyung is hot and all, but he is definitely just a friend. I can’t see anything happening between us. Especially now that I know him so well.”

Jimin stuffs his elated relief down with the rest of the inappropriate things he’s beginning to feel as this conversation unfolds.

“I understand,” Jimin sympathizes. “Is it okay if I share some of my own experiences? That might help you put yours into perspective.”

“Yeah, hyung, of course.”

“Well, I didn’t come out until after college. Not even to my very best friend, who I have known since high school and have always trusted with my life. I waited until I was absolutely positive, and even then, I doubted myself. Throughout uni, I slept with… lots of guys. A few women, too.” Jungkook makes a questioning sound. “Hah, that’s a story for another time.”

“Ah. Okay, sorry hyung. Go on.”

“I never really felt…I don’t know. Gay enough. Which is so stupid in hindsight, but like I said: I understand. Everyone and everything around us is designed to make us question ourselves. Men are supposed to look a certain way, act a certain way. To most people, all of this confusion about who we really are is just a distraction from what we’re supposed to be doing. And I believed that, for a really long time.” 

“Well. When did you change your mind?” Jungkook asks. “When did you know?”

Jimin sighs. “Promise you won’t make fun?”

“Pinky promise.”

Jimin mimes hooking fingers with someone mid-air, and for whatever reason, he has a feeling Jungkook is doing it, too.

“Okay, well. The summer after I graduated uni, Taehyung and I were at the beach—wait. Did I tell you I’m from Busan?”

Jungkook chuckles. 

“Hyung, I stalked your Facebook, remember? Plus, your accent is thicker than mine.”

Jimin rolls his eyes.

“Anyway.” Jimin stretches out every syllable and drenches it with sass. “Taehyung and I were at the beach, having a mini getaway before we moved to Seoul. There was a group playing sand volleyball near us, and there was this one guy…fuck. He was so fine. This sounds terrible, but I couldn’t tell you what his face looked like because my gay, greedy little eyes were glued to his abs. He definitely caught me staring, and I was so embarrassed.

“But being caught like that made me feel bold, and that gave me the last push I needed to finally fucking tell someone. I needed to get it off my chest, kind of like you are tonight. So when Taehyung came back from the bathrooms and sat down next to me, I blurted it out. And he was so chill about it, just smiled and gave me a hug and told me he was proud of me, and yeah. Since then, life’s only gotten harder, but at least I feel like I’m more confident with that part of myself.”

After Jimin’s speech, Jungkook is quiet again. But Jimin can almost hear the gears turning, like Jungkook’s thoughts don’t need his voice’s help to be loud.

“Thank you for sharing, hyung,” Jungkook says, voice soft and shy. “I feel like I should tell you that when you texted me that one night saying you were gay, it only freaked me out because I felt like I needed to say it, too.”

“Oh, Kook-ah,” Jimin breathes, the nickname flowing straight through his filter. “Don’t ever feel like you have to tell me anything, ever. I’m sorry if you felt pressured. Since finding your number in that bathroom stall, I’ve…been all over the place. I have lots of stuff going on in my personal life, so I wasn’t very understanding. It never occurred to me that this whole thing could possibly be affecting you, too.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook says. “It is. But I’m okay, hyung, I promise. I feel a lot better now, especially after talking it out. I think I’m still a little confused, but, um. Definitely better. I know I can figure it out.”

“Good,” Jimin says. “I’m happy to hear that.”

Jungkook hesitates before speaking again, so Jimin gives him the space to speak when he’s ready.

“Hyung, do you feel comfortable talking about the stuff going on with you? Are you, ah. Are you okay? You can trust me, too, you know.”

It feels like Jimin’s heart melts in his chest.

“That’s very kind of you, Jungkookie,” Jimin murmurs. “But there isn’t much to talk about. I’m just a bit of a failure, is all.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“Oh, but it is.” Jimin chuckles, devoid of humor. “Right before my 27th birthday, I was laid off from my job. That was the weekend my friends took me to Busan, when I couldn’t find the Siworae bar and found your number written on the wall. So now I’m unemployed, basically mooching off my roommates for rent and food.

“But I’ve been struggling for much longer than that. When I moved to Seoul, everything kind of went downhill. When I was still living in Busan, I knew people. I had connections. If I had stayed and searched for a job back home, I’m sure I could have gotten a good one. But I wanted to see more, do more. And when I moved to Seoul, it felt like I lost all of that. It felt like I was just another face in the crowd, because I was.”

“What do you do?” Jungkook timidly asks.

“I dance.”

“Wow,” Jungkook gasps, awed. “That’s so cool, hyung. But I can see how it’d be hard to find steady work in that field.”

“Yeah.” Jimin’s nose twitches. “I knew that going in, but for some reason I thought I would be the exception. Clearly, I wasn’t.”

Jungkook has nothing to say to that.

Jimin goes on.

“Anyway, I’ve been applying to jobs outside of my degree and experience. It feels like it’s time to leave those dreams behind, time to chase something attainable. I have a couple interviews next week and some other companies showing interest, which is good. It’s great. But it almost feels like my identity has been ripped away. If I’m not Jimin who dances, who the hell am I? You know?”

“Hm.” Jungkook pauses inquisitively. “Well, just because you might work somewhere else doesn’t mean you can’t still be Jimin who dances. I have actually kind of been struggling with this, too. I’m still undecided with my major, and I’ve felt a lot of pressure to settle on one. But my Namjoon-hyung tells me my career doesn’t have to define me. Our identities extend past our careers, Jimin-hyung.”

Jimin’s left speechless. He isn’t sure what kind of person he thought Jeon Jungkook was, but just one conversation has squashed his suppositions. After an uncomfortably long silence, Jungkook goes on.

“That’s why I’m considering going into business,” Jungkook says. He says the statement kind of like a question; not one he’s asking Jimin, but one he’s asking himself. “That’s what my Seokjin-hyung studied. It would be cool to be my own boss one day. To make my own differences. And my hyung says with business, I can do a lot. Maybe my first job will be in sports management. And if I get tired of that, maybe I’ll try logistics. And if I don’t like that, I can be a teacher, or hell! Maybe I’ll open my own business! CEO Jeon has a nice ring to it.”

Jimin giggles at that.

“Woooooow, you’re ambitious,” Jimin teases, but it’s only half-assed. It’s true. Jungkook lists these things off like every one of them would be a piece of cake, and Jimin believes him. Jungkook laughs again, though it’s more of a huff. Endearing. Cute. “You should open a new Siworae bar. I’m still so sad that it’s gone.”

“Hey, that idea’s not half bad. If anyone can do it, it’s me,” Jungkook says, comically lowering his voice. Jimin imagines him puffing his chest, too. The goof. “I better start taking notes when my friends and I go out for drinks on the weekend.”

“You’re a dork,” Jimin laughs. The softness and endearment in his voice is thick, and the realization makes him blush. Thank god Jungkook can’t see it. As an afterthought, Jimin pulls his phone away from his ear and checks the time. He yelps. “Jungkook-ah! It’s nearly three in the morning!”

“Uh-oh, is it past ahjussi’s bedtime?”

“Hey now,” Jimin prods. “Let’s not forget who’s the actual hyung, here. I bet 2022 Jungkookie is tucked into bed, honk-shooing the night away.”

Jungkook giggles, and Jimin has the overwhelming urge to coo. In reality, Jungkook may be older, but Jimin feels lucky to get to know this Jungkook—young, eager, ready to take on the world.

“Oh, shut up,” Jungkook chides. “But I actually should go to sleep. I have class first thing in the morning.”

“I don’t know how you do it,” Jimin says. “Do you stay up this late every night?”

“Ah,” Jungkook says, a little sheepish. “It’s actually pretty early for me. I work the night shift after class, so sometimes I’m not in bed until dawn.”

“That can’t be healthy.”

“Oh, it’s definitely not.”

This time when they both laugh, Jimin notices they sound eerily the same.

“Okay, baby Jungkookie. Let’s sleep.”

“Okay, baby Jiminie hyung,” Jungkook says cheekily. Jimin growls a teasing, quick yah, but Jungkook forges on unfazed. “Goodnight, sleep tight!”

“Goodnight.” 

Jimin waits for the click on Jungkook’s line before putting his phone down, realizing belatedly that his cheeks ache from smiling. When Jimin falls asleep tonight, it’s easy. And his dreams are soft and soothing, open and warm like Jungkook’s voice.

»»—  ☽  —««

“Guess who was giggling in the middle of the night again,” Hoseok casually says, reaching across the table to drop a couple pieces of bulgogi on the little plate in front of Jimin. “I’ll give you a guess. His name starts with Ji and ends with—”

“Yah!” Jimin whines, mouth full of food. He tries to keep his voice lighthearted as they all talk over their dinner, but he’s being tested. “I was probably just sleep talking.”

“Um. Probably not,” Taehyung says, serving side eye and sass (all of it received with love). “You’ve never talked in your sleep, not once. In fact, you sleep like the dead. Remember that one time in uni I carried you down two flights of stairs before you even started waking up?”

“No,” Jimin grumbles, when in fact he does remember. It’s interesting that’s the part of the story Taehyung decides to share. It had been the middle of the night, and Taehyung had triggered the fire alarms because he burnt a couple packages of ramen. In the microwave. Without unwrapping them. There may have been a little (or a lot) of alcohol involved. It’s a miracle Taehyung made it down so many stairs with Jimin in his arms. But anyway. “Can’t you guys just leave me alone?”

“We just want to know who you’ve been talking to, Jiminie,” Hoseok pouts. “He must be funny if he’s got you giggling at three in the morning. And hot if you’re still talking to him after—how long has it been? A couple weeks?”

“Not even,” Jimin frowns.

“It has been at least two weeks, thank you very much,” Taehyung argues, bottom lip jutted out in a deep pout. “I think it’s actually been longer than that. We haven’t had a sleepover in ages.”

Jimin can’t deny that.

“I know,” Jimin sighs. “We can have one this weekend, okay Tae?”

“I’ll believe it when it happens,” Taehyung grumbles. Then, with an indecent glint in his eye, Taehyung asks, “So, this guy you’re talking to. Have you fucked yet?”

“Yah,” Yoongi groans. “That’s enough.”

Jimin shoots Yoongi a grateful look.

Yoongi strategically avoids eye contact.

“We haven’t even met,” Jimin says, looking down at his rice. As hard as he tries, he can’t keep the hint of regret from bleeding into his tone. Hoseok notices and hums sympathetically. “He- he lives in Busan. So it’s not like we can just, I don’t know. Meet up that easily.” That much is true. “Anyway, like I told Taehyung the first time he asked—we’re just friends.”

“If you say so,” Taehyung says airily, twirling a slice of cucumber through the air with his chopsticks. Jimin watches it slowly slip from his grip, plopping back onto his plate. “But on the off chance you two start having phone sex, make sure you at the very least buy a sound maker. Be courteous to your hyungs, Jimin-ah.”

A blush blazes its way from Jimin’s ears to his neck, all the way down to his chest.

“Thanks, Tae. Thanks a lot.”

Thankfully, after that, Hoseok and Yoongi steer the conversation in a different direction. They discuss Hoseok’s first brand deals with the social media following he’s amassed, and Yoongi tells the table that he’s almost done with his second mixtape. Everything goes back to normal—whatever that looks like these days—and Jimin lives to see another day.

(And that evening, Jimin purchases a sound maker online, shipping it overnight.)

In the time that has passed since Jungkook’s first call, Jimin and Jungkook have spoken on the phone at least once a day. Most often, these calls happen in the middle of the night. Jimin doesn’t mind; he hasn’t much of a regular, daily routine, anyway, being unemployed and all. And Jungkook’s wacky uni schedule limits the times he’s available. 

So any time Jimin’s phone lights up with a call from jungkook-ssi, he runs to his room (if he wasn’t there already), burrows under the covers, and swipes right to receive the call with a smile so wide, sometimes it hurts.

Still, phone sex is definitely out of the question.

Well. Probably.

For the most part, Jimin and Jungkook’s conversations have revolved around Jungkook’s class schedule and his work stories and his gym circuits, or Jimin’s job applications and dance industry stories and meal preferences. Though it feels like they talk for hours and hours (because that is precisely what they do), there is always something else to discuss, another funny story to tell.

Hanging up is always the hardest thing to do.

Jimin would be lying if he said his and Jungkook’s relationship (or whatever it should be called) is strictly platonic. Jimin tries to reel himself in, tries to keep his flirtatiousness at a respectable level. 

This proves to be difficult when it comes to Jungkook. 

Especially when Jungkook nonchalantly and unabashedly tells Jimin his voice is soothing, that he could listen to it all night. Especially when Jungkook comforts Jimin readily when his job interviews go badly. Especially when Jungkook tells Jimin he’s getting into boxing, that he thinks it would be fun if Jimin helped him with mitt drills, that Jimin sounds like he would be quick and good with his hands.

Even though Jimin has no idea what Jungkook even looks like (and vice versa), he would be a fool to deny the feelings that are developing. His brain can try to dismiss them all it wants, but Jimin’s body always gives him away. His heart pounds and his palms clam up when his phone buzzes with a call; his tummy flips when Jungkook compliments him with that smooth voice of his; his legs kick and writhe when he’s trying to hold in his laughter throughout their conversations.

But it would be even more foolish for Jimin to admit any of it aloud.

Because no matter how much happier Jimin has been since meeting Jungkook, that doesn’t erase his current, less-than-ideal employment situation. That doesn’t change the fact Jungkook is caught ten years in the past. Or perhaps more accurately, doesn’t change the fact Jimin is stuck here in the present.

So, in the middle of one of their conversations in the middle of the night (sound machine whirring of course), it shouldn’t surprise Jimin when Jungkook brings it up first.

“I came out to my hyungs,” Jungkook says.

“Really?!” Jimin gasps. His voice comes out much louder than he thought it would, so he reigns it back in, saying in a whisper, “That’s great, Jungkook-ah. How did it go?”

“I think it went well.”

Jimin waits for Jungkook to say more.

“…and?”

“Well, it doesn’t feel like my place to say anything,” Jungkook mumbles. Jimin’s interest piques. “But I guess since you’ll probably never meet my hyungs…”

Jimin tries to level his breathing.

No, he probably won’t ever meet Jungkook’s hyungs, this is very likely true. But if so, the same can be said for Jungkook and Jimin, can it not?

“Mhm?” Jimin’s voice shakes.

“Ah, um. My Namjoon-hyung took it really well. Apparently he’s bisexual! And - and my Seokjin-hyung said he’s always kind of known about us both, just didn’t wanna outwardly assume, or whatever. So. Yeah!”

Jimin nods before realizing Jungkook can’t see.

“Wow, Jungkook-ah, that’s great,” Jimin says again. Clears his throat. “I’m really proud of you.”

“Thanks, hyung,” Jungkook murmurs. Jimin can almost hear his shy grin. “It’s so crazy that Namjoon-hyung likes guys, too. Almost like my gayness knew when I met him, y’know? Like gay spidey senses.”

Jimin might have laughed at that if the jealousy that tears through Jimin’s chest didn’t squeeze out his breath. It takes him a moment to collect himself—to keep his tongue from growling he better back off and completely humiliating himself. 

“That happens sometimes, yeah,” Jimin grits through his teeth. “Gay attracts gay, or whatever. Especially hot gay. Which I’m sure Namjoon-ssi is. Hot. Or whatever.”

There’s a long pause.

“…you okay, hyung?” Jungkook asks, humor edging his voice. “Got something to say?”

“Totally fine,” Jimin snaps. He should probably feel guilty for making Jungkook’s moment about himself, yet here he is. “Why do you ask?”

“Are you jealous, hyung?”

“No.” 

Jimin answers faster than innocence would allow. Jungkook laughs, and the sound boils Jimin’s blood (in the most infuriatingly wonderful way).

“Hey,” Jungkook says, voice soft. “I can have more than one crush at a time, you know.”

And now Jimin’s blood feels like it’s evaporating. It’s turned to vapor in his veins, lifting his soul out of bed until it’s like Jimin’s floating up against the ceiling, looking down at his frail body frozen beneath his sheets. Jimin’s out of body reaction would scare him if he wasn’t already scared shitless as it is. So Jimin just exhales hot and slow out of his nose, listens to the pounding in his ears until it feels like he can speak again.

“Are you sure?”

God, he feels like an idiot.

Jungkook just huffs another quiet laugh.

“Yeah, hyung. I’m sure.”

»»—  ☽  —««

After that bridge is crossed, it’s a slippery slope.

Jimin stays true to his word and has a sleepover with Taehyung that following Friday. Like Jimin expected, Jungkook tries to call him in the middle of his and Taehyung’s third movie. He silences the call before Taehyung grows suspicious and shoots Jungkook a quick message. 

me [02:07:49]
sorry, can’t talk!!
i’m watching movies with
my taehyungie bear

They may or may not have gone through a few bottles of soju, too. So when Jungkook’s response comes through right away, Jimin bites his bottom lip to keep his pleased giggles at bay.

jungkook-ssi [02:08:11]
Who is that

“Who’s that?” Taehyung asks, too. Jimin lets his phone fall unceremoniously into his lap in an attempt to be casual. But Taehyung immediately squints his eyes. “Is that your Busan boy?”

“Busan Bathroom Boy,” Jimin corrects him without thinking (drunk brain and all). Taehyung stares at him blankly for one, two, three seconds until Jimin realizes what he just said. “Oh! Ah, ha ha. Yeah. My…Busan boy.”

“You’re acting weird again,” Taehyung mutters.

“I—he just—” Jimin swallows hard. “Jungkook.”

“Huh?”

“His name is Jungkook,” Jimin says, and saying Jungkook’s name aloud with another human in the room does a number on his nervous system. “Jeon Jungkook.”

“We have a name!!!” Taehyung hollers, making Jimin nearly jump out of his skin. And then Jimin is wrapped in lanky limbs, pressed against a hot chest. “Minie and Kookie, sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N—”

“Tae!” Jimin groans, shoving him away with a laugh. Taehyung is completely unfazed. He just sits there on the other cushion of the sofa, looking at Jimin with a warm, gooey aura that screams Very Proud Father. “Stop that. I told you we haven’t even met.”

“Yet!” Taehyung gushes.

“...yet.”

And when he realizes he means it—that he really, really wants to see Jungkook face-to-face, really, really hoping it happens soon—a rush of something as terrifying as it is grounding sears through Jimin’s veins. 

Jimin vows he will meet Jungkook one day.

Jimin just knows that it will happen—that it can.

So when Taehyung’s tipsy, sleepy attention is back on the TV, Jimin pulls his phone out of his lap. He finds that Jungkook has sent him a couple more messages, and Jimin can’t help but grin again. As much as he’d love to catch up with Jungkook, to see what he’s been up to, he instead sends Jungkook his last text of the night.

jungkook-ssi [02:09:08]
????????
Where did u go =(((((

me [02:23:48]
he’s my bestest best friend
don’t worry, it’s not like that
what me and tae have is different
than whatever you and I do <3
goodnight, my jungkookie
talk to you tomorrow xx

Though Jimin said nothing about the possibility of meeting up, Jungkook responds like he did. To Jimin, it feels almost like Jungkook can read Jimin’s mind, even across oceans of time.

jungkook-ssi [02:25:07]
Oic lol…sorry
Got a lil Jeonlous =P
Id love to meet him someday
But only after seeing u first, ofc
Goodnight my Jiminie hyung
Sleep well <3

When Jimin falls asleep later, wrapped in Taehyung’s embrace, he can’t help but wonder what Jungkook’s body would feel like next to him instead.

»»—  ☽  —««

One early afternoon after yet another failed interview, Jimin texts Jungkook from a sad, tightly wrapped blanket cocoon in his bed. Jungkook is supposed to be in class, but he’s still enthusiastically texting back, even if his typos are more frequent than normal (which is really saying something).

jungkook-ssi [14:09:34]
Itll be ok hyung
U have so mch goin 4 u
Ur smart and funy
And also ver hot

Though tear tracks are still drying on Jimin cheeks, he barks out a laugh before quickly typing back.

me [14:10:01]
oh shut up
you don’t even know
what i look like, you dork

jungkook-ssi [14:11:11]
Dnt hv 2
Ur voice is Hot
Tht means u r 2
Nd Im into oldr guys u kno
So ur autmaticly delish

me [14:11:56]
that is such bullshit lol !!!!
plus, don’t forget that i’m
actually younger than you
chances are you’d think i
still look like an angy babie

jungkook-ssi [14:13:27]
O ya
I forgot abt tht
Lol

me [14:14:15]
mhm. so don’t go falling in love
just yet. i’m probs not even your type

Jimin’s heart pounds in his throat, and when Jungkook’s response comes through, his stomach does a very complicated tumbling routine.

jungkook-ssi [14:16:44]
Doubt it. N e way…
U wld b the exception

Jimin is so fucked.

me [14:17:51]
if only i could send you
some selcas………

jungkook-ssi [14:18:22]
U can
Pls send sum
Prove me rite

Jimin laughs, soft and endeared.

me [14:19:49]
thought you couldn’t
receive pictures??

jungkook-ssi [14:21:54]
Thts not wht I said
It jst takes 4ever
Cmon send them
Pls???????
I hve gud srvce in
this bldg

Jimin rolls his eyes, smiling ridiculously wide.

me [14:23:35]
you’re a spoiled brat,
you know that?

jungkook-ssi [14:24:22]
Ya I kno <3333333

me [14:25:30]
ok i will send you some pics
but! you have to at least try
sending me one, too
and!!! no more texting
during class!!!!!!!!

jungkook-ssi [14:26:07]
Ok =))))

So Jimin goes through his camera roll and picks out a couple pictures he has taken recently (like the completely whipped man that he is). In fact, Taehyung took these photos professionally, right before Jimin was laid off. 

The first is of Jimin dancing at one of his last gigs. He had felt so powerful that night, divinely dangerous and sexy. The second is what he wore—what he was going to wear—for Halloween (unfortunately Jimin never did get the chance to go out and party in his get-up, money being tight and all). In the picture taken in Taehyung’s studio, Jimin holds his carefully constructed mask in one hand and gives the camera a deathly stare, all directed by Taehyung’s artistic eye, of course.

me [14:24:45]

me [14:24:50]

me [14:24:57]
let me know when
you get them~

Jimin knows Jungkook’s class is a discussion seminar, so it won’t be at least another hour and a half before he is released. So Jimin pulls up a Youtube video on his phone and dissociates, tries not to check his messaging app every thirty seconds to see if Jungkook has reacted to his photos, to see if Jungkook’s own picture has come through.

But thirty minutes pass, then an hour. Before he knows it, Jimin has been curled up in bed for another two and a half hours. He tries not to fret, tries not to overthink it. Jungkook isn’t the type of guy (even at the ripe age of 20) who would ghost someone he’s been talking to for nearly a month just because he isn’t over the moon about some stupid pictures.

Honestly, he probably hasn’t even gotten them yet.

So Jimin dicks around on his phone for a little while more, until his tummy begins to growl. When he heads out to the kitchen to steal some of Hoseok’s leftovers, he gets distracted by Yoongi watching television on the couch. They have a nice conversation, catching up a bit. Yoongi’s been busier with last-minute mixtape stuff; so sometimes it feels like their schedules are complete opposites. It’s nice to see his hyung, and Jimin doesn’t rush the conversation, instead appreciating this precious time alone with his friend.

When Jimin finally returns to his bedroom, he’s almost ( almost ) forgotten about the pictures and mindlessly checks his phone. It’s a shock to his system when he sees he has nearly a dozen unread messages from none other than Jungkook.

jungkook-ssi [19:03:38]
What the fuk
Fuck?
Thats waht u look liek????
FUCK
Hyung, wht the fuck fr
Why didnt u tell me ur like
A fucking model
R u a model?????????
Wait no Lol ur a dancer
Duh I forgot
But like still what th efuck

me [19:26:06]
uh lol you okay kkyu??

jungkook-ssi [19:28:12]
NO
I AM NOT OK
U R SO HOT???????
Hyung u are so fien
So fin
SO. FINE.

Jimin’s laughter is explosive.

He suddenly feels like he could run a marathon. His energy has to go somewhere, so he rolls around in bed until he completely falls off, landing on the floor with a dull thump. He’s still laughing—keening and wheezing and clutching his side—when Yoongi bursts into his room.

“Jimin! Are you okay?! What—uh, what?”

“Y-Yooni-hyung,” Jimin slurs, at the mercy of his uncontrollable giggles. “‘M good, I just- I’m just laughin’ is all!”

“Okay.” Yoongi says, lifting a brow. He’s got one hand clutching the doorknob and one foot in the hallway, like he’s ready to bolt at the first sign of potential danger. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Jimin thinks he hears Yoongi mumble ‘ weirdo’ after he carefully closes Jimin’s bedroom door with a soft click. 

Jimin couldn’t agree more.

me [19:32:42]
stopppppppppp
i’m not that hot!!!

jungkook-ssi [19:33:56]
I will punch a fuckn wall
Take it back
Rite fckn now

Jimin’s maniacal laughter subsides, control over his limbs slowly returning. Once he feels like he can stand, Jimin crawls back into bed and sits cross-legged up by the wall. His giggles are under wraps, but his cheeks still ache from smiling. 

me [19:36:08]
hehehe, okayyyy
i guess i am kinda cute

jungkook-ssi [19:37:37]
Listen to me hyung
R u listening???

me [19:38:13]
lmao yesss jungkookie
i’m listening

jungkook-ssi [19:40:01]
U r the hottest person I hve
ever seen. Do u understand?

Jimin isn’t sure that he does.

It isn’t like Jimin doesn’t know he’s attractive. He gets hit on plenty (by men and women alike). It isn’t uncommon for strangers to come up to him and tell him he’s got pretty eyes or killer lips or clear, enviable skin. But nobody has ever said something of this caliber. Especially not someone who has grown as important to Jimin as Jungkook quickly has.

me [19:41:11]
idk…

jungkook-ssi [19:42:42]
Youre beautiful Jimin-hyung
I mean it

Perhaps Jimin is crashing from his initial, jovial high, because now he feels like crawling back into bed, wrapping himself back up in a cocoon, and sleeping the rest of the evening away. So he listens to what his body wants and sinks back below the covers.

me [19:44:21]
thank you, kkyu
really, that’s so nice :c

jungkook-ssi [19:45:13]
I wish I could see u rn

Exhaustion weighs heavier on Jimin’s chest.

me [19:46:47]
me too

And that’s it, isn’t it?

Jimin misses someone he’s never even met.

For a few minutes, Jungkook doesn’t text back. It gives Jimin enough brain space to remember that there is something very important missing.

me [19:52:22]
HEY!!!!!!
where is my picture?!
you were sposed to send
me one too!!!!!! >:c

More minutes pass. 

Jimin knows Jungkook is probably at work now. An unwelcome trill runs up Jimin’s spine when he realizes they’ve got each others’ schedules down, almost like—well. Like a couple of close friends. Or…

You know.

jungkook-ssi [20:03:05]
I did!
Hyung I promise I did
Its jst gna take a while =(
Im sorry
Also Im at work
Sorry again Lol

Jimin huffs a laugh. 

me [20:03:46]
lol i know bb
no more sorries
sigh, here
i’ll prove it to you

Jimin swipes at his phone’s screen until the camera app is up and running, and he snaps a quick selca. Before he changes his mind, Jimin presses send.

me [20:04:54]

me [20:05:34]
this is what i look
like right now
no makeup, no studio
just me in bed

Jimin doubts Jungkook will get the picture any time soon. But when Jungkook’s message pings through, Jimin’s eyes open wide in surprise.

jungkook-ssi [20:07:40]
O shit tht loaded fast lol
Wow Jimin-hyung…
Idk wht ur tryin to prove here
Bcuz ur still fuckn gorgeous

The feelings that crawl up Jimin’s throat from his chest don’t have a name in Jimin’s vocabulary quite yet. But if he were to try, he might say they’re terrifyingly close to something very Big, something far past Jimin’s bounds of control.

me [20:09:29]
thank you jungkookie
i’m very very flattered

jungkook-ssi [20:12:43]
Damn…Im so lucky

Jimin doesn’t dare address what Jungkook might mean by that. Instead, he reaches for his charger and plugs in his phone, snuggles deeper into his blankets, and types what he hopes is a sweet goodnight message. He feels drained, like he could fall asleep in mere seconds despite the early hour.

me [20:15:02]
kkyu bb, i am so so sleepy
i hope you have a good night
at work. don’t work too hard tho
that’s an order hehe
night night xoxoxox

When Jimin’s head hits his pillow, he really does fall fast asleep. He sleeps long and hard, his body and mind restoring themselves after an emotionally taxing day of both rejections and elation. The next morning when he wakes up, he takes a moment to himself, checking in. His body feels well-rested and light, his head feels clear. It’s almost nine in the morning, meaning Jimin slept over twelve hours.

He definitely needed it.

And when he finally reaches over for his phone and opens his messages—a slew from Taehyung, one from his father, and, of course, a couple from Jungkook—he is grateful he has his wits about him.

Because Jungkook’s photo finally came through.

jungkook-ssi [20:21:37]
Goodnight pretty hyung
Wish I was there

jungkook-ssi [04:11:06]
This is me

The selca is blurry and so painfully 2010s that Jimin can’t help but giggle. But, it’s him. It’s Jimin’s Jungkook. His eyes are indeed big and his nose is so cute, and his lips look chewed on and chapped like every stressed uni student’s do. 

Though Jimin’s reaction isn’t quite like Jungkook’s, it’s still just as strong. He feels suddenly, shockingly protective. Jimin senses a strong connection with this boy in his phone, like he would do anything for him. He wants to run his thumb over Jungkook’s red bottom lip, wants to smooth his dark, shiny hair, wants to rest his arm over his shoulders and steer him safely through life.

Jimin wants Jungkook to be his, and right now—just for a bit—he lets himself believe that he is.

»»—  ☽  —««

Everything culminates one late, Friday night.

Jungkook said he was going out with his friends (yes, to the Siworae bar) so Jimin’s phone has been silent. Taehyung is busy with one of his friend’s swanky art shows, Yoongi is still in the studio (likely will be all night), and Hoseok is out of town visiting family, so Jimin has had the entire night to himself.

A month ago, this would have been torture. But now, solitude is welcome. Jimin had time to bake some (questionable) cookies made with ingredients he scrounged up from their scarce pantry. After eating half of them in one sitting, he lounged on the couch and watched his favorite teary romance movie, going through half a box of tissues.

Now Jimin has showered, given himself a mini facial, and is climbing into bed to watch his favorite Youtube channel to lull himself to sleep. It’s been a much-needed night of self-care, and although he misses his friends—especially one of them—Jimin feels refreshed and renewed.

But when Jimin sets his phone aside and puts out the light, he lays in bed, wide awake. Like he has so many nights before, he stares at his ceiling, finding patterns and shapes in the cracks and discoloration. He stays like that for a couple hours, at least. Almost like he’s waiting for something—for some one.

And when his phone vibrates on his end table with a text, he knows what he finds will be exactly what he’s been waiting for. So he grabs his phone and unlocks it, reading the message with a well-humored sigh.

jungkook-ssi [01:07:43]
Hyngg
Hai

Jimin snorts.

He’s never talked with Jungkook after he’s been drinking, mainly because Jungkook either keeps his phone turned off in his pocket or leaves it at home when he’s gone out in the past. 

So this is a pleasant surprise.

me [01:09:10]
hi cutie
what’s my kkyu up to?
is someone a little drunky??

jungkook-ssi [01:11:48]
Noooooooooo

me [01:12:32]
i don’t believe you c:

jungkook-ssi [01:13:31]
K mayb jus a lil
Bt I m ho me !!
Cum cudle pls n thx

Ohhh, yeah.

Jimin is so gone for this boy.

me [01:14:52]
i wish i could bb
what are you doing?
did you wash up??

jungkook-ssi [01:16:27]
Mhm liek a gd boy
Washd face nd brush teef

me [01:17:08]
lol that’s my good boy~

jungkook-ssi [01:18:22]
Can I call u ???
Pls pls pls

Warmth floods Jimin’s middle.

me [01:19:06]
ofc you can x

It only takes a few minutes for the call to come through.

“Hi, Kook-ah,” Jimin coos an answer.

“Hyung,” Jungkook breathes into the phone. He barely uses his voice, just says the honorific on a long, deep exhale. Jimin knows it’s not possible, but it almost feels like he feels it hot and humid on his cheek. And even through Jimin’s crackling phone speaker, even across a decade of time and space, Jimin can sense Jungkook’s adoration. “Hi, hyung.”

“My baby,” Jimin whispers, their little secret. “Are you in bed? Did you change your clothes? Do you have water?”

“Mmh,” Jungkook hums. Jimin thinks it’s an affirmation, but he can’t be sure. Jungkook sounds comfy and sleepy, and Jimin aches to hold him. “Wish hyung was here.”

“I’m here, Kkyu,” Jimin soothes. Jungkook whines, so Jimin goes on. “Do you feel okay? Do you have any ibuprofen in your dorm?”

“‘M fine, hyung,” Jungkook fusses. Jimin hears the sound of shifting fabric on the other end, the telltale sounds of Jungkook rolling over in bed. “Jus’ tired.”

“It’s still pretty early for you,” Jimin says, lets his typical teasing edge leach through. “Did your other hyungs wear you out, hm?”

“No,” Jungkook says. Jimin can clearly hear his pout. “We left the bars early ‘cause it was lame and we were bored.”

“Aw, I’m sorry,” Jimin sympathizes. “Sometimes it’s better just to stay in, isn’t it?”

“Mmh,” Jungkook hums again. If Jimin closes his eyes and thinks really hard, he can imagine the way Jungkook’s puffy bottom lip pokes out, the way his angular brow furrows, the way his pretty eyes darken with a pout. “Wanna stay in with you.”

Jimin chuckles low, completely endeared by Jungkook’s drunken neediness. But to be honest, Jungkook doesn’t sound as drunk as Jimin thought he would. He sounds a lot like he normally does—maybe with a little more lisp and a little less filter.

“I wish I could stay in with you too,” Jimin says. “That’s what I did tonight. I stayed home all alone, baked some cookies, and watched a cheesy movie.”

“Didju have fun?” Jungkook mumbles.

“I did,” Jimin says. And because he knows it will please Jungkook to hear it, he also says, “Would have been more fun if you were here, too.”

And just like Jimin expected, Jungkook sighs happily into the phone, all airy and light.

“Wish I was there.”

Jimin can sense Jungkook’s sulk.

“Maybe someday we can have a movie night together,” Jimin hums. “We can take turns watching my gooey romance films and your Marvel action movies. How does that sound?”

“I want it,” Jungkook whines.

Jimin laughs. “Me, too.”

Silence stretches between the two boys in bed, Jimin idly rubbing his feet on the softness of his sheets, Jungkook breathing softly into the receiver. Jimin opens his mouth to ask if Jungkook needs to go to sleep when Jungkook beats him to the chase. 

“Hyung? Can I ask you something?”

“Of course you can, Kkyu,” Jimin murmurs. “You can always ask me anything, you know that.”

“Promise you won’t get mad?”

The warmth that’s been comfortably cycling through Jimin’s tummy freezes over, hardening into stabbing shards. 

“Is everything okay, Jungkook-ah?” Jimin asks, voice panicky. “Did something happen? Did I say something that—”

“Shh, hyung, no,” Jungkook interrupts, chuckling low. “I just…it’s personal. You don’t have to answer if you don’t wanna.”

“Of course I’ll answer.”

Jungkook pauses. 

Jimin hears him take one breath, then two.

“Okay. Um.” One more shaky exhale. “A long time ago, when we first started talking—” Jimin bites back a laugh. ‘A long time ago’ must mean something else to Jungkook, because to Jimin it feels like it was just yesterday. “—you said that, ah. You said that you slept with a l-lot of guys when you were in school.”

Jungkook pauses again. Jimin swallows hard. 

“Yes.” Jimin nods to his empty room. “I did.”

“Yeah, well. I was wondering…”

“Mm?”

“Did you ever, um. Did you ever…ah, hyung, I don’t know if I can even say it.”

“I won’t judge you, baby,” Jimin says as soothingly as he can. “What is it, hm? What do you want to know?”

“I, uh. I- did you…fuck.” Jimin waits quietly this time. Jungkook scolds himself under his breath before finally blurting, “Did you ever bottom?”

Jimin blinks to himself in surprise.

“Oh. Um. Yeah, Kkyu, I did,” Jimin says. He tries to keep his voice as level as he can. “Most of the time, actually. Back then I definitely had a type.” He punctuates his answer with a short laugh.

“Oh.”

When it is clear Jungkook isn’t going to say anything further, Jimin fills the empty space with his own question. 

“Why do you ask? You can tell hyung.”

“I just,” Jungkook says, voice wobbly. “I’ve never…done that. And I really, really want to.”

Now it’s Jimin that has nothing to say, because truly, what does he say? His thoughts spin wildly through his head, refusing to slow down enough for Jimin to catch one and flesh it out. Jimin must take too long to respond, because now it’s Jungkook that fills the silence.

“H-hyung, can you teach me how?”

It’s like Jimin’s sucker punched in the gut.

“Kook-ah…”

“Please hyung,” Jungkook begs. Jimin hates what that does to the space between his legs. “I- hyung, I like you. I know you like me, too. Right?”

Jimin takes a breath in an attempt to steady his voice, but when he answers, it still shakes like a leaf. 

“Of course hyung likes you. But—”

“I like you so much,” Jungkook interrupts, voice coming out in a gasp. “You don’t wanna help?”

Jimin scrapes a hand down the side of his face.

“Baby, I do,” Jimin urges. “But you’ve been drinking, and I shouldn’t…we shouldn’t—”

“Hyung,” Jungkook whines (or was it more of a moan?). “I’m not too drunk. I think about this stuff...every night, even when I'm sober. I promise, please believe me. Even without your help, I’m gonna try it. B-but, either way, I’m gonna wish it was you doing it, not me.” Jimin tries to control his breathing, tries to control the way his body reacts to Jungkook’s pleading. “I like you so fucking much,” Jungkook says again, voice warbling with want. “Want hyung so bad.”

Fuck.

“Okay,” Jimin breathes before his conscience can stop him. “Okay, baby. Okay. Hyung’s here, hyung will help.”

“Hyung,” Jungkook says again, this time as a sob. “Hyung-ah, tell me what to do.”

“Right now?”

“Please.”

Jimin hears desperation in Jungkook’s voice, and that protectiveness he felt before rears its powerful head.

“Do you have lube, baby?” Jimin asks, keeping his voice as soft and calm as he can. “You’ll need lube.”

“Yes,” Jungkook says. “I have it right here. A-and I’m clean, too. I washed up…down there.”

“Good,” Jimin praises. Jungkook’s breathing is growing raspier, more rushed. “Do you have any toys?”

Jungkook makes another little sound, a heady mix of whiny and frustrated. “No, hyung. Don’t have any toys. Just- just want my hyung.”

Jimin takes a long, deep breath before taking the dive. Because he knows once they start, there’s no way they’ll be able to stop.

“That’s okay, baby. You can just use your fingers. Have you tried that before?”

“Hn?” Jungkook’s voice lifts in confusion.

“Have you, ah. Have you tried putting your fingers inside?” Jimin asks, voice cracking as he does. Jungkook grunts again, this time in negation. “Okay, well, fingers are a good way to start.”

“Want hyung,” Jungkook says again, and it cracks Jimin’s chest right open, reaches in, greedily stealing his heart. “Want hyung inside.”

“I know, baby, I know,” Jimin soothes (mainly Jungkook, but also himself). “I- I want that too. Trust me, Kkyu, hyung wants that too, so, so badly.”

“Hyung,” Jungkook whimpers. “Oh, hyung.”

“Are you touching yourself right now?” Jimin asks, almost scared of Jungkook’s answer even if he’s certain he already knows. “It’s okay if you are, I just need to know. Can you tell hyung what you’re doing?”

“I’m just- I’m feeling my cock through my clothes,” Jungkook whispers. Jimin’s eyes flutter closed. He resists the urge to reach down and feel himself, too. His head is still spinning, maybe because all his blood rushes down. “I’m hard, hyung.”

“Are you?” Jimin says, running his tongue over his lips. They’re as dry as his mouth. His harried breathing isn’t helping, but he can’t fucking stop. “That’s good, baby. Does it feel good?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer with words. Instead, he whines through the phone, the familiar sound of rustling fabric harmonizing with his voice. 

“You can touch yourself, Kkyu,” Jimin says. “Can you do that for me? Reach in your pants, hm? Tell me how you feel.”

“Ah- ah! Oh—” Jungkook must be sensitive. Jimin’s own cock throbs in his briefs, untouched and aching. “It feels good, hyung. I’m- it’s leaking. I’m wet for hyung.”

Jimin draws a long inhale through his nose.

“Good,” he says again, and Jungkook keens at the praise. “Are you stroking yourself yet?”

“No,” Jungkook mumbles. “Just…feeling the head. It’s so soft, even though I’m hard.”

Jimin tries licking his lips again, but they just stick to his tongue.

“Fuck, Kook-ah,” Jimin sighs. “God, you’re so…”

“Hyung,” Jungkook gasps. Jimin wishes he could see, wishes he knew what exactly Jungkook is doing to himself. “Hyung, I want you inside.”

“Do you wanna start fingering yourself?” Jimin asks. The tightness in his crotch is beginning to really hurt, but he still keeps his free hand on his chest. Maybe his thumb passes over a nipple once, maybe twice. Just to take a bit of the edge of, just a little, that’s all. “You should put your phone on speaker. Can you do that for me?”

“Y-yeah…” There’s a rustling and a few mysterious clicks, and then the sounds coming through Jimin’s phones distort and warp, sounding even further away. “I did it, hyung. What now?”

“Both your hands are free?”

“Mm.”

“Okay,” Jimin sighs. “Now put a little lube in your hand.”

“Just, like. In my palm?”

“No, on a couple fingers,” Jimin instructs. Then, he backpedals. “Ah, actually. Put it on three.”

Jungkook groans.

“Is hyung gonna stretch me out?”

A shudder runs down Jimin’s spine, sparks flying behind his closed eyelids.

“Yeah, baby. Hyung’s gonna help.”

There are a few moments of sort-of-silence, where Jungkook listens to Jimin’s instructions and rushes to follow them. Jimin faintly hears the telltale click of a plastic lid, the squelch of viscous liquid, the soft sigh that then leaves Jungkook’s lips. 

“Okay, hyung, I- my fingers are wet,” Jungkook says. “What should I do now? Do I…should I put them in?”

“No, baby, wait,” Jimin commands. Jungkook lets out a soft, little whine. “How are you positioned? Are you lying in bed? Or propped up against the wall? Tell hyung.”

“Mmh, I’m just sitting normally,” Jungkook murmurs. “Should I move? Hyung, I wanna put them in.”

“I know you do.” Jimin doesn’t know how he’s still conscious at this point. It feels like the air is squeezed from his lungs, like all his blood’s pounding in his cock. He even has sweat beading over his temples, dripping down to his ears from the effort of holding himself still, of not giving himself friction where he needs it. “But you need to roll over, first. Get on all fours. Can you do that for me?”

“Okay.” Jimin hears more movement, a few sighs and grunts. And then Jungkook’s voice is back, this time a little out of breath. “Okay, hyung, I did it. It feels…I kinda like being like this,” he says with a shy giggle.

Jimin’s bowled over by the images that pop into his head. Jungkook on his elbows and knees, eager ass in the air. Hard cock dangling between his legs, dripping onto his sheets. Lubed-up fingers held out of the way, Jungkook’s head turned towards the phone so his hyung can still hear him. 

“Good,” Jimin croaks.

“What now, hyung?”

“Now—” Jimin says, trying hard not to slur his words, “—now hyung needs you to reach over your back and touch one finger to your hole. Just feel around for it, get it wet.”

When Jungkook does what he’s told, he gasps.

“Ah! Ah, oh, hyung. Hyung, this feels really good,” Jungkook says. There are more sounds of movement. Jimin wonders if Jungkook is spreading his knees, giving himself easier access to the tight pucker of his ass. “Hyung, oh fuck. Ohhhh, can I put one in? Please, can I?”

“Not yet,” Jimin denies him. “Circle your fingers there for a bit. Remember? You need to get yourself wet.”

“‘M already so wet,” Jungkook whines.

“Listen to hyung,” Jimin says lowly, so low it’s a purr. “It will feel better this way. Just trust me, baby.”

“Ngh,” Jungkook grunts. But he yields, gasping rhythmically, following his own finger’s path. “Hyung, I might- I think I’m already gonna come.”

“Really? Are you still touching your cock?”

“N-no. It just…I’m too sensitive, hyung.”

“Is this the first time you’ve touched your hole?” Jimin asks. 

The thought has a pulse of precome staining his briefs; he can feel it seeping into the cotton, slowly spreading out from his slit. He still hasn’t even touched himself, isn’t sure that he could, that he should.

“Like this, yeah,” Jungkook says, breath stuttering when he does something that feels good. It kills Jimin not to know what exactly it is. “I, uh. I clean myself there every day. B-but I’ve never…not when I’m hard. Not with someone else.”

Jimin almost rolls over so he can grind into the mattress. The thought of Jungkook’s virgin hole being warmed up, of the approaching moment his fingers first press inside has Jimin’s cock twitching hard against his hip. But again—again, again, again—Jimin refrains. 

This is for Jungkook, not for him.

“I wish I was there, Kkyu,” Jimin whispers.

“Hyung,” Jungkook moans. “Me too, hyung. Me too.” There’s a brief pause. Jungkook’s breath hitches. “I- I accidentally pressed a little harder. I think I’m ready to push inside. Please, can I try?”

“Yes baby,” Jimin says. “Go ahead and put one in.” He takes a shaky breath and adds, “Do it for hyung.”

Jungkook does.

Or, at least he must. After Jimin’s order, Jungkook’s voice cracks, deepening into one long, low whine. When it finally cuts off, Jungkook’s breathing heaves unevenly, broken up by breathy moans.

“Fuck, oh fuck fuck fuck,” Jungkook cries. His voice is louder now, Jimin can tell, but at the same time, it’s further away. “Hyung, I want another.”

“Not yet,” Jimin rasps. But god, he wants that, too. He wants to see Jungkook squeeze in a second and a third, wants to watch his own cock slowly sink into Jungkook’s hastily-stretched ass, rim angry and pink, Jungkook begging for more the whole time. “Y-you need to be careful, baby. Take your time. Is your finger all the way in?”

“Mm,” Jungkook grunts. “Wanna- can’t go any deeper. Hyung, I want more. Please, can I put in more?”

“Move your finger around first,” Jimin says. His own hips have begun weakly canting up into thin air, searching for something, anything. But Jimin won’t give it. “Twist it…curl it inside.”

Jimin listens as Jungkook obeys.

Jungkook is mostly just whining and grunting and moaning at this point. If Jimin listens hard enough, he swears he can hear the slick sounds of Jungkook’s finger stroking in and out of his ass. The noises Jungkook makes are wild, completely unhinged. It’s all driving Jimin crazy, making him feel completely insane.

“Is your hole soft?” Jimin asks, lips moving without permission. “Are you nice and wet and warm inside, Kkyu?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook breathes. “Yeah hyung, ‘m so soft. B-bet—ah!—bet you could just put your cock right in, hyung.”

Jimin groans.

“Put in another finger, baby.”

“Fuck. Thank you, hyung. Thank- ohhhhh…”

After that, Jungkook isn’t able to speak much at all. Jimin talks him through the second finger, then the third. The messy wet noises are loud through the phone, then. Jimin can tell Jungkook’s rhythm is frantic, that he slams his three fingers in and out, lube easing the glide and likely dripping all over.

“Have you touched your cock yet, Jungkook-ah?” Jimin asks, biting his bottom lip so hard he makes himself wince. “Since you put your fingers inside?”

“N-n-no,” Jungkook sobs. “Gonna come.”

Jimin can’t stop his laugh.

“Baby, you’ve been saying that this whole time,” Jimin teases. “You can come, now. Go ahead, touch yourself. Hyung wants you to do it.”

“But…” Jungkook sniffles, quick sounds of movement slowing down. “But I want hyung to come, too.”

It’s been long enough that Jimin’s numbed himself out. His cock is still rock hard, tented under his tight briefs. Around the time Jungkook put in his second finger, Jimin kicked off all his covers, left his legs and chest bare. If it wasn’t near-winter, Jimin would have turned on the aircon—anything to cool himself off, to whisk away the sheened sweat sticking to every surface of his skin.

“Baby…”

“Can’t come without hyung,” Jungkook snivels. Jimin knows if he could see, Jungkook’s wide, pleading eyes alone would be enough to cave him in. “Please, hyung. Can hyung please touch himself, too?”

“Are you sure?” Jimin breathes.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Jungkook chants. 

Jimin hears Jungkook’s movements pick up again, fingers jamming inside, reaching for that sweet spot Jimin knows Jungkook can’t reach alone.

“Okay.” With urgency Jimin can no longer be embarrassed by nor ashamed of, he reaches down and scrapes the waistband of his boxer briefs down until his aching cock finally springs free. “Okay, baby, hyung gonna touch himself now. Not—fuck—probably not gonna last long, okay? C’mon, baby, come with hyung.”

Jimin puts his phone on speaker, too, places it up by his face on his pillow. This frees up his good hand so he can reach down and grip his cock at the base, so he can squeeze hard. He yelps, crying out when he finally, finally strokes himself dry. The sticky tug doesn’t even bother him, not when Jungkook’s husky moans resound in his ear, not when Jimin reaches down with his other hand to cup his balls, to trace his taint.

“Hyung I’m gonna come,” Jungkook says, voice coming in bursts. Jimin feels delirious, can hardly believe they’re fucking through the phone, imagining the drag on their cocks is the other’s distant touch. “I can’t- it’s gonna—”

Jungkook’s moaning is cut off, replaced with quick, staccato ‘ ahs.’ Jimin knows that he’s coming, knows he’s taken care of his baby, and with that, Jimin strokes his head in little jerks, quicker and quicker until, with a muffled grunt, Jimin comes, too.

He presses the tips of his fingers against the soft flesh between his hole and sack, kneading it, massaging real deep as he fills up his fist. If he was more self aware in this moment, he might be embarrassed of how quickly he came. But the sounds of his own name on Jungkook’s euphoric lips erases any shame Jimin might have felt otherwise, shoving it aside, leaving room for pleasure alone.

“Baby,” Jimin whispers, voice thieved alongside his sanity. “Jungkook-ah, you good?”

“Hyung,” Jungkook slurs. He abruptly sounds so close, like his lips might brush Jimin’s ear if he says another word. “Hyung.”

“I’m here,” Jimin says, trying hard to catch his breath. “I’m here, baby, I’m here. What do you need?”

“Hyung,” Jungkook says again, this time thicker, wetter. Jimin realizes with dread that Jungkook might cry. “Hyung…”

“Shh,” Jimin hushes him. “Just breathe.”

They lay there in their shared bubble, stretched across time and space, slowing their breathing and straightening out their scattered thoughts. Jimin doesn’t think he’s ever come so hard from sex, let alone phone sex with a person he’s never met face-to-face. It’s so unbelievable it’s funny. Jimin laughs, and when Jungkook does, too, that terrifyingly strong feeling that Jimin so often feels with Jungkook bubbles up to the surface, drowning everything else out.

“Hyung,” Jungkook says again.

“Hm?”

“Hyung, I…” Jimin hears Jungkook swallow. There’s still a wide, dopey grin on Jimin’s face. His cheeks are beginning to ache from it. “Hyung, I think I’m in love with you.”

Jimin’s slammed back to reality.

He doesn’t answer. The smile melts from his face, slides right off. Jimin’s heart still pounds hard and heavy, sweat still sticks to his skin. The adrenaline in his system spikes once again, making his eyes flutter, his hands shake.

Jungkook speaks again when Jimin doesn’t.

“I love you, Jimin-hyung.”

Jimin tries to think, but only four words blast through his brain, over and over. So for once, Jimin doesn’t dwell on the complications nor the consequences. 

For once, Jimin just speaks freely.

“I love you, too, Jungkook-ah. I really do.”

Jungkook’s breath breaks. 

“Thank you,” Jungkook warbles. “Goodnight.”

When Jimin hears the click, when Jungkook’s line goes dead, Jimin doesn’t move. He just lays there and lays there, waits until he starts shivering before reaching up and locking his phone. He then rolls out of bed, voice grunting and joints cracking the whole way. He grabs a t-shirt out of his clothes hamper and scrubs dried come off his fingers and chest, then plops back into bed with gritty eyes and floppy limbs.

He checks his phone one last time.

There are no new notifications, no hidden messages in his and Jungkook’s conversation. But there’s one last thing Jimin wants to say before falling asleep.

So he does.

me [03:13:59]
i think it’s time for us to meet

Jimin knows Jungkook isn’t going to answer tonight, knows his dongsaeng probably passed out right away. So he sets his phone out of reach and burrows under his covers, falling into a fitful sleep filled with dreams spent drowned in another’s touch.

And when Jimin wakes, of course he checks his phone first thing. The messages that await him light him up brighter than the late morning sun in the sky.

jungkook-ssi [09:46:53]
Name the time and place
Im there

me [11:21:04]
is ten years too long of a wait?

jungkook-ssi [11:24:38]
For you?
I’d wait forever

And then when Jimin checks the other messages he’s received in the night, he considers digging himself a hole, crawling in, and never coming out.

yoongi-hyung [03:45:09]
Please, for the love of all
things good, use your
sound machine next time.

(But for Jungkook, he'll persevere.)

»»— ☽  —««

They set a date.

Jimin counts down the days, and he can’t help but wonder if Jungkook is counting down the years. Because it’s going to take a decade of waiting, ten long years of dedication on Jungkook’s part for their plan to work.

One week after the night they gave into the urges Jimin had worked so hard to repress, Jimin and Jungkook plan to meet in a commercial chain cafe in Seoul that has been around for over twenty years. It brings Jimin a sort of comfort knowing that they’ll meet in a commercial chain cafe, a place that should exist for them both, a place that shouldn’t blip out of existence for one (or both) of them.

Their calls have been regular as of late, but after sharing such an intimate moment together, after learning each other’s sounds and desires, something snaps. Jungkook starts calling Jimin randomly throughout the day, even if just for a few minutes each time, “ Just to hear your voice, hyung. ”

And since Jimin never knows when to anticipate Jungkook’s calls, he essentially locks himself in his room, cutting out all other distractions. Hoseok and Yoongi give Jimin his space, but when Taehyung’s calls go unanswered and Jimin’s typical daily texts whittle down, Taehyung voices his concern.

“Jiminie, are you sure you’re okay?” Taehyung asks one afternoon. His voice is distorted through the phone as much as it’s harried. Taehyung is slammed with clients, but he still takes the time to check in with Jimin during his thirty-second lunch break. Jimin doesn’t deserve him. “Hoseok-hyung says you’ve hardly come out of your room, that you’re barely eating, and I’m just worried that you—”

“Tae, I promise I’m fine,” Jimin soothes. 

But Taehyung’s concern isn’t unwarranted. Jimin has been isolating himself—partly out of anticipation, but mostly out of fear. He hates lying to Taehyung, but he feels like he has to. If he tells him he’s finally meeting up with Jungkook, Taehyung will have a hundred and one questions, most of which Jimin isn’t sure he has answers to. It’s all up in the air, and Jimin’s overwhelmed as it is.

“You can talk to me, Min. You know that, right?”

“Of course,” Jimin sighs. “I’m…just in a bit of a funk. I’ll get out of it soon. I’ve got some more interviews coming up in the next week or so. That’ll make me feel better.”

Taehyung hums, but Jimin can tell he isn’t convinced. “Well, make sure you’re taking care of yourself, okay? Go get something to eat if you haven’t today.”

Thankfully Taehyung can’t see the way Jimin scratches his dirty hair when his empty stomach growls with a guilty frown on his mouth.

“Okay. I will.”

“I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

A measly few seconds after Taehyung hangs up, Jimin’s phone buzzes with another call. Despite his heightened anxiety and strong reliance on the comfort of his own bed, Jimin answers with a smile splitting his cheeks. And for as long as their short phone call lasts, Jimin forgets the rest.

Jimin knows it isn’t healthy.

But what about his and Jungkook’s situation is healthy or normal or sane? He can tell Jungkook’s call frequency has picked up for the same reasons Jimin has shut himself away from the world. What they’re about to do is something that could make or break them. Jimin feels less pressure on himself, for once isn’t scared of what he might do. The problem is that everything is out of his hands, completely up to fate and timing.

But in his experience, time isn’t very kind. 

There are so many things that could go wrong in ten years. What if Jungkook changes his mind about Jimin? He’s so young, life bound to be turbulent. There is a huge possibility Jungkook won’t want to see Jimin anymore once he’s lived through the long chunk of life that separates him from the present that Jimin is in. 

And what will Jungkook (of 2012) do after Jungkook (of today) and Jimin finally do meet? Is he just supposed to wait around for a decade? Should Jimin tell him all the things his older self says? If the Jungkook of the present gives his past self all the answers, will they even end up in the places they are now? 

Does that mean Jimin has to cut ties with the Jungkook he has come to know and love? Will he have to let him live his life on his own while Jimin moves on with another version of himself?

It’s all too much for either of them to stomach.

So in the agonizing week that they have left to be together in this strange, far-off limbo, Jimin and Jungkook do their best to learn everything about each other that they can.

They crack open their hearts and put it all on the table. They talk about their childhoods in Busan, about their early years in school and their oldest memories. They talk dreams, fears, and ultimate life goals. Jimin tells Jungkook that he hopes to one day own his own apartment, wants to take a shot at living on his own. Maybe one day he’ll even buy a car (though he hates to drive). When he has the means and the space, he might even adopt a cat. 

And Jungkook tells Jimin he wants to do many things in the formative years that approach. He wants to grow facial hair (Jimin laughs at that). He wants tattoos just like his Jimin-hyung (and Jimin wants more ). A cat would be cool, but Jungkook really wants a dog. Having his own apartment seems entirely out of reach, but a small studio would be enough. And perhaps to poke fun, Jungkook scoffs at the idea of having an average, old boring car and says he would much rather buy a motorcycle.

(Jimin scolds the shit out of him for that one. Has he read the horrifying statistics on those?! What an irresponsible, completely on-brand thing for a naive twenty-year-old to want.

Jungkook just laughs and laughs.)

Conversation is always innocent until it’s not. Jungkook tells Jimin about his first kiss with a boy. He was a middle-school buddy, and they were at Jungkook’s home playing video games when suddenly, the other boy’s mouth was on Jungkook’s. It was quick, so Jungkook pulled him in for more. But before they connected again, Jungkook’s friend ran out of the house and never spoke with him again. Jimin’s heart breaks at that; he wishes so badly he could hold him.

Then, one night, Jungkook timidly asks Jimin more about his sexual experiences, and in turn, Jimin learns more about Jungkook’s. Jungkook listens when Jimin tells the story of the women that surprised him—one of them pegging him until he drooled on her pretty pink sheets, the other that rode him until he embarrassedly had to tell her to stop, that he wasn’t going to get there. 

In the moment, these encounters were whatever, but the aftermath was rough. Jimin was forced to face himself, to quit playing games and accept who he really was. 

Who he is. 

Usually, when Jimin and Jungkook have these conversations, they organically flow to the next topic. But sometimes Jungkook’s voice tilts and Jimin’s chest swells, and then they’re whispering and gasping and moaning all the things that they wish they could do now.

Though they dig much deeper than they have before, they always dance around the glaring topic in front of them. The feelings that have been growing between them have finally been acknowledged. They nourish them, and they flourish and bloom, but neither points out the obvious—as beautiful as it is, can their flowering love keep itself alive for as long as they need it to?

The night before they are scheduled to meet, they groggily talk over the phone into the wee hours of morning. There have been several occasions that either Jimin or Jungkook falls asleep on the line, even a few where they both do. But tonight they fight their exhaustion, getting in as many words as they can before reality strikes.

“Hyung?” Jungkook asks, voice lilted and soft.

“Hm?”

“Do you believe in destiny?”

“…like ‘meant to be’ things, you mean?”

“Mhm,” Jungkook affirms.

“Well, yes and no,” Jimin answers. He can hardly open his eyes, he’s so tired, but that only means his words flow without hindrance. “I think that sometimes things work out on their own, but most of the time they take lots of work and good timing. Just because something feels right doesn’t mean it will work out.”

“Mm,” Jungkook hums. Jimin’s chest aches when he hears the sadness coloring his tone. “I see.”

“What about you?”

Jungkook takes a moment to think.

Jimin’s blood roars in his ears.

“I agree with you, but at the same time I don’t.” Jimin doesn’t say anything, lets his baby take his time answering. “I’ve always imagined I’d hear bells when I meet The One. Like, since I was a kid. Isn’t that dumb? I kinda forgot about all that until…until I got closer to you.”

“Mm?”

“I don’t think we realize destiny is at work until after the fact,” Jungkook says. “Like with you, at first I thought it was all an accident or coincidence. But now, looking back, you know what I realize?”

“What, baby?”

“Ah, well. I usually have my phone on silent, you know? But I remember the day that you texted me, my phone went off full volume. And my ringtone was set as a bell.”

A lump forms in Jimin’s throat.

“I always thought I would be the romantic, gushy one in whatever relationship I end up with,” Jimin says. “But it turns out you’re the romantic here.”

Jungkook offers Jimin a shy huff of a laugh.

“I love you, hyung.”

They’ve said it every day since the first time, but it still takes Jimin’s breath away everytime he hears it.

And it scares him to death.

“I love you too, Jungkook-ah,” Jimin hums, closing his eyes. “You have class in two hours, baby. We really need to go.”

Jungkook’s sad sound breaks Jimin’s heart.

“I know, hyung. You’re right. Goodnight. I hope you get some sleep. I’ll…see you tomorrow?”

Jimin almost feels sick.

“Goodnight,” Jimin murmurs. “I’ll see you soon.”

Silence strings between them, but Jimin can’t let him go. It seems Jungkook can’t either, quiet breaths still picked up by his phone’s speakers.

“Hang up, baby,” Jimin laughs.

“No, you,” Jungkook says. 

His voice is uneven, even with two easy words.

“It will all be okay,” Jimin whispers. “I promise, baby, it will.”

“I love you,” Jungkook says, one last time.

“I love you, too.”

When the other line goes dead, Jimin’s heart drops to his stomach. He’ll see him tomorrow, he tells himself. 

It will all be okay.

Jimin expects sleep to come slowly, expects it to put up a fight. But he’s surprised when the next time he opens his eyes, light shines into his room, shards slicing through the air, illuminating his skin where it’s exposed. 

He reaches over to check his phone. There is only one notification waiting for him, but it’s the only one that matters.

jungkook-ssi [10:03:28]
Todays the day, hyung
Cant wait to meet you

So Jimin hops out of bed and heads to the bathroom, because it is finally time to get ready for the first day of the rest of his life. 

»»—  ☽  —««

Jimin replays the words Jungkook once told him.

For you? I ’d wait forever.

Again, and again. 

He whispers them under his breath, ignoring the way the middle-aged man squished in the seat next to him stares at him like he’s mad.

For you?
Forever.

But what if Jimin is late?

He isn’t proud to admit that he is late more often than he is on time. It’s something his friends often tease him for, because he makes it easy. When they go out for drinks or dinner, Jimin is always the last one in front of the mirror—putting final, finishing touches on his hair and makeup—without fail. He’s a Libra, for fuck’s sake, he can’t help himself. Being rushed is his biggest pet peeve, and he would show up late and put-together before he would ever be on time and disheveled. 

But today, it isn’t his fault at all.

They decided on a meeting time with Jimin’s habits in mind: three o’clock in the afternoon. He had plenty of time to get ready, to walk to the station, to get on the train. In fact, Jimin’s ETA should have been a whole hour earlier than Jungkook is supposed to meet him at the cafe. There is no way Jimin would let his bad habits get in the way of meeting the potential love of his life.

But after hopping on the train and snagging a seat, it doesn’t take long for Jimin to realize that something is very wrong.

The car is deep in the belly of the Seoul subway system when it abruptly screeches to a halt, lights flickering, passengers murmuring. The conductor gives a quick message over the intercom, that there has been a slight delay, but they will be back on track in just a few minutes.

A few minutes turns into half an hour.

Half an hour turns into a whole.

Then two.

Jimin still has cell service, but he resists the urge to send Jungkook any panicked texts. What is Jungkook going to do about it ten years in the past? Jimin supposes he could tell Jungkook he’s running late, so that they can shift their meet time a bit later. But that feels like something that might get lost in time—like a risk Jimin isn’t willing to take.

So he sits in the crowded car and wrings his hands, staring at the speckled linoleum beneath his shoes.

It will be fine.

It has to be.

Eventually, the conductor gives the passengers another message, says in a detached monotone that a Mugunghwa train carrying 275 passengers derailed while entering Yongsan station, causing delays and cancellations for any subway trains passing through central Seoul.

Great.

But Jimin maintains his cool, just hopes and prays to all the gods that he knows that Jungkook is as patient as his twenty-year-old self says he is. The conductor says they have at least another hour before they’re able to move. Jimin focuses on his breathing, tries not to be sick. Of course this would happen today of all days, because why would it not?

By the time Jimin’s finally breathing the less-than-fresh air outside his final station, the sun is dipping behind the buildings surrounding him, casting an eerie glow over his surroundings. Everything is grey—trees dying, sidewalks damp, overcoats pulled tight over shivering bodies. It’s isn’t too cold—not yet—but there are patches of slush in the gutters that Jimin skips over as he nearly sprints to his final destination.

When Jimin finally, finally bursts into the cafe, he’s out of breath, hasn’t had much time to be nervous mostly because he’s so upset.

And of course, Jungkook isn’t there.

“Excuse me,” Jimin gasps, nodding at the woman behind the counter up front. “Um. Did you by chance serve a man named Jeon Jungkook? Did he, uh. Did he leave his name, or a message or anything?”

She squints at Jimin, eyes roaming over his disheveled appearance from the wisps of hair atop his head to his wet, dingy shoes.

“What’s your name?” she asks.

“Jimin,” Jimin croaks. “My name is Park Jimin.”

The barista swipes through the register’s touch screen, probably searching for any notes left by those who worked the shifts before her. Jimin knows what she’s going to say before she even opens her mouth.

“No, I’m sorry,” she says. At least she sounds genuine. “There isn’t anything here. Would you like me to take your information in case he comes back?”

Jimin chews his cheek, then shrugs. “Okay.”

He then buys a hot, sweet drink after thanking the kind hearted worker, plunking himself down in a corner that has a clear view of the door. Jimin doesn’t care how deranged he might look—sitting and glaring at the swinging, wooden door, hardly blinking, gripping his mug like a lifeline. 

After an excruciating hour passes with no sign of Jungkook, Jimin knows it’s time to go home.

On the train ride back home, Jimin reads over the messages Jungkook has sent throughout the day.  

jungkook-ssi [15:44:03]
How did it go?
Or is it still going??

jungkook-ssi [17:09:34]
Lol cant believe Im jealous
of my own fucking self rn

jungkook-ssi [18:31:59]
Ok ur making me nervous
Im not bald, am I?
Pls tell me Im not bald

Jimin has no idea what to say.

So he doesn’t say anything at all.

He is doing well so far keeping his emotions in check. Or maybe he isn’t; he feels very numb. He’s afraid texting Jungkook will only break the dam, so he keeps his phone safe in his pocket until at long last, he walks through his apartment’s front door.

Of course, Taehyung, Hoseok, and Yoongi are there.

“Where have you been?!” Hoseok scolds.

“There’s dinner on the way,” Yoongi says.

“Min? Are you okay?” Taehyung asks.

All it takes is Taehyung’s worried eyes to get Jimin’s tears flowing. His face crumples, and he sobs loud and wet.

“Jimin!”

Three sets of hands maneuver him over to the sofa. Taehyung immediately folds Jimin into his arms, holding him tight, shushing him, stroking his hair. 

“What do you need?” Hoseok urges, panicked. He sits on Jimin’s other side, squeezing Jimin’s shoulder with a comforting hand. “Do you need some tea? Soju? A blanket? A hug?”

“Jimin-ah,” Yoongi’s soft, low voice rumbles, “What’s going on? Please talk to us, we’re- we’re really worried about you.”

Jimin nods, but he can’t speak quite yet.

“You’ll tell us when you’re ready, hm?” Taehyung asks, always understanding what Jimin needs. Jimin nods again, and Taehyung clicks his tongue. “It’s okay, my love. It’s okay, take your time.”

So Hoseok springs up and begins gathering things he’d deem comforting—the things he listed and more—and after their dinner is delivered and packed away in the fridge, Yoongi takes Hoseok’s empty space on the couch at Jimin’s side. Jimin still sobs into Taehyung’s shoulder, absolutely soiling his shirt, and Yoongi shows his silent support with a heavy hand on Jimin’s knee. 

After Hoseok forces Jimin to change into a pair of sweats and a hoodie and Taehyung tips some tea with honey down Jimin’s throat, Jimin’s sobs finally subside. His tears begin to slow, but a bad case of the hiccups constricts his chest.

“J-Jungkook,” Jimin stammers.

Taehyung snaps to attention.

“What did he do,” Taehyung growls, and for an honest moment, Jimin’s a little bit scared.

“N-n-nothing.” Jimin tries to speak, but his teeth won’t stop chattering. Hoseok and Yoongi look confused, and another wave of agony crashes over Jimin when he realizes Taehyung must have kept the topic of Jungkook between just the two of them. Jimin really doesn’t deserve him at all. “H-he- I…”

“Breathe, Jimin,” Taehyung murmurs. “Did you two meet up?” Then, to Hoseok and Yoongi who are beginning to fidget, “That’s the guy he’s been talking to, from Busan. Jeon Jungkook.”

Both Hoseok and Yoongi hum, “ Ohhhh. ”

Jimin forges on.

“We were su-supposed to meet at a cafe,” Jimin warbles, voice wet. “But my train was delayed, a-and when I finally got there, he was gone.” 

What he doesn’t say aloud is that it all feels like a sign, like they were never meant to meet in the first place. 

“Ah, fuck,” Taehyung breathes. “I’m so sorry. But that isn’t your fault, Min. You couldn’t have done anything to change it.”

“I know,” Jimin says, miserable. “But…”

“I know,” Taehyung says, too.

“I’m sorry, babe,” Hoseok murmurs.

“Well, can’t you just reschedule?” Yoongi asks, very logically. “I know he’s in Busan, but it isn’t like you’ll never see him again.”

Jimin’s sobs return, wracking his body.

“Is it okay if Jimin and I talk alone, hyungs?” Taehyung asks, voice still tight with worry.

“Of course,” Yoongi says, apologetic. 

The couple files into their separate room, leaving Jimin and Taehyung alone on the couch. Jimin is still curled into Taehyung’s side, but he can’t find the comfort that Taehyung’s touch usually brings. 

“Can we watch TV?” Jimin asks, voice muffled and pathetic. “Don’t wanna think about it anymore.”

“Okay,” Taehyung immediately says, reaching for the remote. He turns the television on, and a news channel flashes onto the screen. “What do you want to watch?”

But when Jimin sees the news story’s headline, something ugly drops in his gut. He rips the remote from Taehyung’s hand, turning up the volume. 

“Today has been tragic for the city of Seoul, with not one but two accidents near city center. First, the derailment of a train at Yongsan Station, injuring at least 34. Reports say injuries sustained are minor. The situation is still being investigated, its cause remains unknown.”

“That explains why your train was so late.”

Jimin knows Taehyung is just trying to soothe him, but Jimin holds a hand up, signaling Taehyung to be quiet. The reporter on the screen goes on. 

“We are still getting information on a several car pile up on Gyeongbu Expressway, but it’s been confirmed that at least a dozen are critically injured. Only one casualty’s been reported so far, a motorcyclist who was unfortunately caught in the middle. Thirty-year old Jeon Jungkook had pulled off to the shoulder to try and help the—”

“No,” Jimin whispers, abruptly on his feet.

“Jimin?” Taehyung worries. But Jimin ignores him, taking one shaky step toward the screen, then collapses to the ground. “Jimin!”

Jimin can’t hear nor understand what the reporter says now. He crawls to their entertainment system on his hands and knees until he can read the little characters that streak across the bottom of the screen, listing the names of those affected by this cursed day’s events. Taehyung is saying something close to Jimin’s ear, but he can’t hear him, either. Perhaps because he himself is screaming and crying, tracing his clammy fingers over the pixelated characters that spell out Jungkook’s name.

Jeon Jungkook, age 30. 

Deceased on arrival.

Nothing more, nothing less.

The reporter moves on to the next story.

Jimin doesn’t even notice when Hoseok and Yoongi burst forth from their room, frantically asking Taehyung what’s going on, taking in the disturbing sight of Jimin howling on the floor. He doesn’t hear Taehyung ordering them away, doesn’t hear the quick argument that breaks out, either.

But Taehyung must come out victorious, because suddenly he’s on the floor with Jimin again.

“Jimin, please talk to me,” Taehyung begs, his voice breaking now, too. “Jimin, hey. Look at me, look at me.”

“He’s gone,” Jimin whispers.

“No, it’s gotta be a coincidence,” Taehyung urges. He’s got his arms wrapped around Jimin again, this time from the back. Jimin’s still on the floor, trembling, flickering out like a dying flame. “That wasn’t him, Jimin-ah.”

“It was,” Jimin says. Through it all, he’s still numb, but at the same time it feels like a hole’s been torn through his chest, right where his heart should be. “It was him, Tae. It was him, and he’s gone. Because of me. ”

“Jimin—”

“It’s my fault,” Jimin mumbles, lips frozen, and he knows it’s the truth. Jungkook was on that highway because of him. He was coming up to see him. Jimin asked that Jungkook make the journey, and now Jungkook is gone. “He was- he was just- I don’t know how…”

Taehyung forcibly pulls Jimin away from the television. Jimin lets him, body falling limp. Once they make it to the couch, Taehyung grabs the remote and clicks the TV off. 

“It’s not your fault. It isn’t, okay? Stop that. Stop saying that. I need you to tell me what the fuck’s going on,” Taehyung says, and as harsh as his words are, they’re barely audible, hardly reaching Jimin’s ears. “Talk to me, Min. Please, I just want to help.”

Once Jimin’s safe in Taehyung’s arms again, he does his best to explain. Really, he does. But there is so much to cover and so little sense to be made. The whole time Jimin tells Taehyung about his sweet Jungkook from the past—the young uni student with stars in his eyes, the whole world at his fingertips—Taehyung’s features twist in confusion, in disbelief.

But Taehyung is silent the entire time, doesn’t interrupt Jimin, not even once. He bites his tongue when Jimin tells him he went against all his friends’ wishes and texted the number from the Busan bathroom stall. Taehyung nods and hums when Jimin outlines their story, from the moment they realized that something was off, from the first time they acknowledged their feelings, to the last time they spoke.

Taehyung cradles Jimin in his arms as he begins crying again, this time silently. Tears flow down Jimin’s cheeks as all the thoughts he’s been keeping to himself finally flow out of his mouth. It’s like he can’t stop, can’t find an end to his and Jungkook’s story.

Because apparently, this is it.

“Jimin,” Taehyung says, rocking his friend. Jimin realizes the numbness must be his body’s way of protecting himself, of keeping the sharp pain of loss at bay until he’s better able to process it (if there will ever be a right time, at all). “Jimin, oh, Jimin. I’m so sorry. I- I don’t know what to do.”

Just as Taehyung says it, there’s a loud buzz that resounds from the tile floor. Jimin’s phone lays in the middle of the room, likely abandoned when Jimin dragged his own lifeless body across the floor to watch the news segment with dread.

Taehyung carefully gets up, untwining their limbs. He strides over to Jimin’s phone and picks it up. When his eyes blow wide as saucers, Jimin knows who it is that’s texted him.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Jimin whispers. 

Taehyung slowly makes his way back.

“Do you want to look at it now?” Taehyung asks. Jimin shakes his head no. But when Taehyung tries to set it down on the end table, Jimin can’t stop his wail. “Do you want me to look at it?”

Jimin hesitates but eventually nods.

So Taehyung sits next to Jimin again and unlocks Jimin’s phone, having known Jimin’s passcode for several years now. Jimin watches as Taehyung reads the latest messages in their conversation, doesn’t stop him when Taehyung scrolls up, reading a few more.

“He’s only asking if you’re okay,” Taehyung murmurs. “He’s worried, too.” Jimin only sniffs, wet and disgusting. “Min…maybe you should—”

“I can’t tell him,” Jimin chokes, throat constricting just from the thought. “I can’t- I don’t know what to do, Tae. What do I do?”

Taehyung locks Jimin’s phone and sets it aside, pulling Jimin close again. His touch is enough to dull the panic coursing through Jimin’s veins, but it isn’t enough to ground him. The only embrace that Jimin really needs isn’t here.

“Min-ah, I don’t know,” Taehyung laments. “I just- I don’t know. This is…this is way over my head. I don’t even know if I believe that it’s true.”

“I’m not lying,” Jimin spits.

“I know you’re not,” Taehyung says. “But nothing about this makes any sense. This is like something out of a movie, or a book. I can’t- we can’t fix something that’s been broken from the start, you know?”

That makes Jimin’s tears spill even more swiftly, because he knows it’s true. And with a jolt, Jimin knows what he has to do. There’s only one thing he can do, only one way to give Jungkook a second chance at life.

“Give me my phone.”

Taehyung scrambles, but he does.

And Jimin opens his and Jungkook’s conversation like muscle memory, shakily typing the message that he prays will put this nightmare to an end.

me [19:39:01]
you need to block my number
i’m so sorry jungkook
please don’t ask me why,
i just need you to trust me

But Jimin knows Jungkook, knows exactly what he will do. Not even thirty seconds later, Jimin’s phone jumps with a call. He stares at the caller ID blankly.

“Do you want me to answer?” Taehyung asks.

Jimin slowly shakes his head. Despondent, defeated. Then he slowly swipes his thumb over, answering the call.

“Hyung? Jimin-hyung,” Jungkook says before a greeting forms on Jimin’s lips. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

Jimin’s body shakes with emotion.

“L-listen to m-m-me.” Jimin grits his teeth, tries to stop them from chattering. “F-forget meeting up. Just- promise me you w-won’t come to Seoul, Jungkook-ah.”

“But hyung,” Jungkook says, sounding a mess. “What did I do? Are you crying? Who made you cry? Did…did I—”

Jimin pulls the phone from his ear and squeezes his eyes closed, tries to breathe, in and out, again and again. He can still hear Jungkook speaking, so frantic Jimin can no longer understand.

“You can’t come and visit,” Jimin urges, interrupting Jungkook’s panicked nonsense. “You can’t come to Seoul, Jungkook. Do you understand?”

“No,” Jungkook croaks, and Jimin knows he’s crying now, too. “Don’t do this to me, hyung. Please don’t do this to me.”

“It’s for the best,” Jimin says, but his voice sounds so hollow. “Please, Jungkook-ah. Please, just promise you won’t come.”

“Hyung…”

“I love you so much,” Jimin chokes, voice tearing through his teeth. Taehyung is still there, stroking Jimin’s hair, wiping tears off his cheeks. “I love you, and I need you to promise me you won’t come. Fucking promise me. ”

“Fine,” Jungkook hiccups. “I p-promise. But—”

“I’m so sorry,” Jimin says one last time.

He hears Jungkook try to say something else, but Jimin ends the call before he can. He knows if he stays on the line for one second more, he’ll give in, he’ll take it back, he’ll let them continue this thing that’s only killing them both.

Then at last, he blocks Jungkook’s number before falling back into Taehyung’s arms.

This time, he feels it all.

The pain is unreal, stabbing into every surface of his skin, burning him to ash from the inside out. Taehyung carries him to bed, lays there with him until eventually, Taehyung falls asleep. Jimin can’t stop crying, isn’t sure he ever will. He imagines his tears fall and pool around him, burying him beneath the depth of his sorrows. 

Jimin lets himself drown. 

»»—  ☽  —««

In the days that follow the accident, Jimin’s body isn’t quite sure what to do.

Grief is a capricious thing, dragging Jimin through the muck of low lows and the horrors of teetering highs. There are moments that Jimin wishes that he could just cry all day long, but his eyes remain dry. Then there are moments that Jimin needs to maintain a stable mask, but all he can do is weep. 

Sometimes he’ll be telling Taehyung a story completely unrelated to anything, and he doesn’t even realize tears track down his cheeks until Taehyung clicks his tongue, reaching over to swipe at them with the pad of his thumb. 

Other times, he’ll be twisted in his sheets, wrapping them as tightly around himself as he can, one end clamped between his teeth. The pain is so acute in these moments that Jimin can’t do anything but remove himself from the world, choosing willing detachment over the agony of a connection forever lost.

One day Jimin will do nothing but talk about what might have happened to Jungkook, and the next he will do anything to avoid the conversation. Every day, Jimin takes to the internet and searches for an article, for anything about the thirty-year-old man that perished in the tragic pile up on Route 1. But day after day, Jimin has to give up. Even then, Jimin refuses to believe that the information has mysteriously disappeared.

Does that mean Jungkook’s disappeared, too?

Eventually, Taehyung encourages Jimin to move on. It seems that blocking Jungkook out of Jimin’s life has worked; records of his death have vanished, not that there are any that might tell Jimin he’s alive. Maybe Jimin saved his lover’s life after all. But Jimin can hardly accept it, can’t stand the idea of losing the visceral memory that both he and Taehyung hold.

Because if they pretend it never happened, if they just forge on with their lives, Jimin knows he’ll convince himself none of it happened. He’ll convince himself he had dreamt up the sweet Busan boy that encouraged him to keep going, to never give up on himself, to follow his dreams and to be authentic now and always.

Jimin tells Taehyung he can’t let himself forget. So Taehyung lets Jimin keep himself anchored in this sea of the unknown, in this unending process of mourning the boy Jimin loved, the boy he never met, the boy he’ll likely never hear from again.

»»—  ☽  —««

Days turn to weeks; weeks turn to months.

Over time, Jimin learns to survive in the dark. Taehyung, Hoseok, and Yoongi force him to leave the apartment, to limit the time he spends in bed. Several scheduled job interviews went unattended and unaddressed after the day the universe tore Jungkook away. Eventually Hoseok and Yoongi help him back on his feet, sending out dozens of applications and filing all Jimin’s interview invitations until Jimin finally, finally agrees to show.

The sludge of life is thick and cold, almost impossible to maneuver, but Jimin does it. He forces himself to—not really for himself, but for Taehyung and his hyungs. They’ve kept Jimin’s nose above water this whole time, even before Jungkook’s loss twisted his airways and filled his lungs.

For the first time in his life, Jimin finds himself living a sedentary lifestyle. He packs his dancing shoes and outfits up, shoving them to the back of his closet and trying not to dwell on the ways his body changes. His lean strength wanes, his edges soften. Of course, no one mentions anything about it, but Jimin is always on edge, always waiting for someone to bring it up. He avoids mirrors and the scale, doing anything to ignore the way he’s given up on the biggest part of himself.

Several interviews come and go without luck, but one day Jimin gets a positive call with an offer. He works that job until he can’t stand it anymore, a soulless helpline position, saying the same thing over and over to people who refuse to listen. After that he picks up a few gigs as a part-timer, odd jobs here and there. Nothing really sticks, but Jimin doesn’t care. As long as he’s able to help his hyungs out, bit by bit.

At the very least, he owes them that.

Before he knows it, an entire year has passed since Jimin was laid off the first time. The universe must have a sick sense of humor, because this is when Jimin finally lands a full-time job with a company he thought was far out of his league. 

It’s an entry level desk job, one that Jimin hardly has the experience to guide him through. Hoseok and Yoongi swear up and down that Jimin’s got this in the bag, and Jimin shows up for his first day with a tie constricting his neck and cuff links cold against his wrists.

A secretary guides Jimin through the labyrinth of desks and computers and copy machines that make up the entire office floor. She murmurs bits of knowledge and inside jokes as they go, and Jimin only nods in acknowledgment. He kind of wishes she would just leave him be, just let him get through the orientation software at his desk on his own.

“One last stop, Jimin-ssi, and then you can get started at your desk,” the secretary says, directing Jimin with an outstretched arm. “This is who you’ll report to. He’ll show you to your work space once introductions are finished, mmkay? It’s been nice to meet you, don’t hesitate to shoot me an email if you have any questions.”

Then as quickly as he met her, the secretary leaves Jimin alone outside of an official-looking office—door ajar, just a crack. Jimin feels like he’s been floating through the work day so far, feels like he’s already forgotten everything the woman had said (including her name). So he just bows his tardy farewell and turns to greet his boss.

“Hello?” Jimin mutters, peeking his nose through the door. There’s a man sitting at a desk, plump lips frowning as he stares at his computer. Upon Jimin’s meek entrance, though, Jimin’s boss quickly stands, thrusting his hand forward for Jimin to shake. “Ah, sajangnim, I’m Park Jimin-ssi, the new hire.”

“Jimin-ssi, welcome,” the man says, mirroring Jimin’s bow after their hands unclasp. “I’m Kim Seokjin. I’m so glad that you’re here.”

Jimin’s fugue state zaps into hyper awareness once he hears the man’s name. Jimin blinks his eyes wide, completely forgetting his manners.

But that name…

“K-Kim Seokjin?”

“That’s the name, don’t wear it out!” Seokjin says with a cheery laugh. “Really, though, this office is pretty serious about honorifics. I don’t care if you call me Seokjin-hyung, but everyone else will. Anyway, go on, have a seat. There are a few things we need to discuss before you can officially start.”

Of course Jimin obeys, slowly sinking into the plush armchair in front of Kim Seokjin’s desk.

Kim Seokjin.

The name tickles something deep in Jimin’s brain, something that Jimin feels he has forced himself to forget, something buried deep beneath a year of grief.

“Are you alright?” Seokjin asks.

Jimin realizes Seokjin has been talking to him this entire time, thumbing through a thick binder of what Jimin assumes are his duties and instructions, important things he needs to know to succeed here.

“Ah—yeah. Yes. I’m sorry. Go on?”

Seokjin continues flipping through the pages, but Jimin’s mind immediately blocks out Seokjin’s words. He just can’t seem to shake the chilled, eerie feeling dripping down his neck, that he is missing something much more important than emails and software.

As Seokjin jovially talks, Jimin’s eyes unabashedly roam. He notes several figurines and trinkets on Seokjin’s bookshelves, more of those than books and plants by far. But there are a couple bonsai trees by his office window, a pretty miniature sculpture on his desk.

And in the middle of it all, in a spot Seokjin can easily see when seated at his desk, is a framed photo of Seokjin and another man.

“What’s that?” Jimin lamely asks.

Seokjin jerks to attention, blinking wide at Jimin’s interruption.

“What’s what?”

Jimin internally scolds himself, although Seokjin hardly seems upset over his rudeness.

“Um.” Jimin shakily gestures toward the picture he refers to. Seokjin looks at it and then looks back at Jimin, eyes trailing from Jimin’s pretty coiffed hair to his bright purple tie. “That. Who is that?”

“That’s my life partner,” Seokjin says. There’s a glint in his eye that Jimin reads as a challenge. Like Seokjin is waiting to gauge what Jimin says, to determine whether he can be trusted or not. “Why do you ask?”

“You look great together,” Jimin says with a small, embarrassed smile. “How long have you been together? What’s his name?”

“Thank you, Jimin-ssi,” Seokjin hums, his answering smile warm. “We’ve been together for six years. His name is Dr. Kim Namjoon. We met in uni, down in Busan. Not to be rude, but I can’t help but notice your accent. You grew up there, too?”

Jimin doesn’t hear half of what Seokjin says.

Now that name, he remembers.

“Sure Namjoon-hyung is hot and all, but he is definitely just a friend.”

“Jimin-ssi?” Seokjin says again, brow furrowing.

“I-I…”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Seokjin asks again, looking around his office like he is searching for a bottle of water or perhaps some fainting salts. “Can I get you something? You look ill.”

“Jeon Jungkook,” Jimin blurts, lips trembling from the effort of shaping around the name. “Do you- have you…?”

For a split second, Seokjin’s face flickers with recognition. Then as quickly as it appeared, it’s shoved aside. A protective wall slams down and darkens Seokjin’s bright, friendly eyes.

“I don’t know who that is,” Seokjin says. His cheery voice has bled out, replaced with an unsettling monotone. “Why do you ask?”

That’s all Jimin needs to know. Without a doubt, this Seokjin is Jungkook’s hyung, and Seokjin knows that Jimin is—was—Jungkook’s hyung, too.

“I don’t think this is going to work out,” Jimin mumbles. It feels like he’s been plucked from this plane of existence and now flounders somewhere between realities. He knows he shouldn’t do this, shouldn’t throw this opportunity away. But he also knows he can’t stay. “I– I’m so sorry.”

Seokjin says something at Jimin’s back, but he’s already out the door by the time he does.

On his way out, Jimin passes by the front desk, hurriedly asking for the things that he left for her. The secretary acts confused when she gives Jimin’s ID back, saying she hasn’t made copies quite yet, and there is still so much paperwork to be done—

But Jimin ignores her fidgeting and walks straight to the elevator, staring blankly at nothing all the way to the ground floor.

And when he finally steps outside, early fall air crisp on his cheeks, Jimin grabs his phone and dials the only number he still knows by heart.

“Jimin?” Taehyung’s voice lifts through Jimin’s phone’s speaker. “Why are you calling me? Aren’t you supposed to be at your—”

“It didn’t work out,” Jimin says. His own voice startles him. It sounds dull, devoid of every bit of liveliness Jimin’s had to scrounge up this past year. He’s back to square one. “Taehyung, I need to go.”

“What?” Taehyung asks. Jimin can hear the fear in his voice, can hear him murmuring something to someone else, likely giving an excuse as to why he has to be on the phone, why he has to step out. “What do you mean?”

“Kim Seokjin—” Jimin cuts himself off. Taehyung has no idea who the fuck that is. “My boss. He…he knows Jungkook.”

Taehyung’s line is dead silent.

“I’m going to the apartment to grab some things, and then I’m taking a train to Busan,” Jimin says when it’s clear Taehyung doesn’t know how to respond.

“I’ll come, too,” Taehyung says.

“No,” Jimin says, shaking his head. He strides along the sidewalk, across streets and around people. “I need to do this myself.”

“Jimin, he isn’t there,” Taehyung murmurs. “Even if- even if he is, it isn’t your Jungkook anymore.”

Jimin knows that he’s right.

And yet.

“I’m gonna stay with my parents,” Jimin says. He can hear Taehyung breathe a sigh of relief. “I need to get away. I can’t be here anymore.”

A long pause.

“…are you gonna stay down there?” Taehyung asks, emotion thickening his voice. “What about me, Min? What about the hyungs? What about your birthday? We were—but we had planned…”

Taehyung trails off.

Jimin shakes his head though he knows Taehyung can’t see it. A lump forms in his throat, and he has to work hard to speak around it when he says, “I don’t know, Tae. I…I really don’t know.”

“Okay,” Taehyung says. “I can tell you’ve made up your mind. What I say doesn’t matter, does it?”

Now it’s Jimin’s turn to be quiet.

Taehyung breathes a deep sigh.

“You’ll be careful?”

“I will.”

“And you’ll call me the moment you get there,” Taehyung urges. “I’m so mad at you for doing this while I’m in the middle of setting up my expo. If I could, I would fold myself into your fucking suitcase and force you to take me, too.”

Jimin chuckles as he ducks into the train station.

“I know you would.”

“So you’ll call me?”

“I’ll call you once I’m there,” Jimin says. “You know I’ll be calling you every day. And I’m sure I’ll be back soon. I just need to figure some stuff out. It’s been a whole year, Tae. I need this.”

“I know,” Taehyung sighs. “I love you, bitch.”

“I love you more.”

“Oh yeah? Well I love you most,” Taehyung says, as fiercely as he always does. Then Jimin hears someone call out to Taehyung in the background, and Taehyung hollers back, probably covering his phone’s microphone. “I gotta go, Min. Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

“Now why would I do that?”

The last thing Jimin hears through the phone is Taehyung’s mirthful laugh before the connection drops. Jimin pockets his phone and hops on the train, half a second before the doors slide closed. As the train lurches forward, bodies swaying this way and that, Jimin feels that for the first time in as long as he can remember, he’s taking a step in the right direction.

All he has to do is keep going.

»»—  ☽  —««

Jimin feels lost, but he knows that he’s not.

Though a year of rejection and trauma has passed, Jimin still navigates these streets like their map’s etched into his skin, like there are directions seeped into his blood, guiding him around corners and across streets to his undecided destination.

A year ago, Jimin’s friends flanked him, protecting him from harm’s way. But tonight, he walks alone. Back then, Jimin didn’t think his life could get any worse than it already was, yet here he is. A broken man hardly stitched back together, visiting the very place that tore him apart.

Gwangan Beach Road.

Bars and shops and stands line the streets, all the same since Jimin left. There’s the tteokbokki stand, and the Thursday Party bar (still crowded on a Friday), and the LA Bar and Grill. Each holds memories that Jimin’s always cherished, memories that were washed away when Jimin made himself forget.

After a few blocks, a familiar convenience store looms to Jimin’s right. He stares at it, watches an older man and what might be his son pour each other glasses of soju, styrofoam bowls of ramen steaming between them.

Then very slowly, almost regrettably, Jimin turns to the left and takes in the brightly-lit bathrooms that remain across the street. 

When Jimin told his parents he was going to go out to meet some old friends tonight, they let him go without hesitation. He’s been home for a few days now, since the start of the week. They celebrated his twenty-eighth birthday early, a Thursday dinner complete with seaweed soup and little bowls of ice cream.

Jimin has gone through the motions to carry himself here. He stands outside the bathroom long enough that people start to stare. So he steps inside, swallowing past his nausea as he steps into the same stall he did what feels like a lifetime ago. 

And just like Jimin expected, Jimin is met with the sight that he’s so carefully prepared himself for.

A clean, empty stall.

There is no message on the wall, no remnants left behind, not even a stain. Jimin shuffles over to the toilet and sits on the seat, wearily eyeing the blank wall, willing a certain message to blink into existence.

Of course it never does.

So, feeling like a complete idiot, Jimin exits the bathroom and nearly runs straight into someone.

“Yah,” the woman says, pointing a crooked finger at Jimin’s nose. “Did you vandalize?”

Jimin blinks, juxtaposing her gesture to point at his own chest.

“Me?”

She doesn’t answer, instead opting to brush past Jimin and enter the bathrooms. Jimin stands there in the street for a beat before following her in.

“Is there something wrong?” Jimin asks, standing at a distance as he watches the woman scour the middle stall. “Can I help with—”

“Get outta here,” the woman says, waving a towel in Jimin’s direction. It’s only then he realizes the woman has a cleaning belt on, complete with sprays and brushes and microfiber cloths. “What you’re looking for isn’t here. Go to the end of the street, he’s at the bar.”

Jimin’s feet feel cemented to the shiny bathroom floor. He stands there, mouth agape. The woman rolls her eyes and hobbles toward Jimin, grabs his arm, and drags him outside.

“Down there,” she says, pointing the same crooked finger at the end of the block, towards the beach’s boardwalk. “Go. Scram.”

With thoughts clouded in confusion, Jimin staggers down the road, following the woman’s instructions. He knows he should probably go home, that it’s getting quite late. But his feet don’t want to stop, and Jimin hasn’t got the strength to stop them. So he keeps going and going, eyes glued to his shoes.

Until they finally halt.

And Jimin looks up.

At the end of the road—on the edge of an outlet that leads to Gwangalli Beach—there’s a small building with an eerily familiar door. It looks weathered and worn by constant sea winds and salty air. Yet it’s welcoming, not quite fully closed, inviting Jimin to walk on in. Just outside of it is a mailbox made of red cedar, intricate designs carved into the corners, curled around the hinged mouth with care.

From the road, it’s nearly impossible to notice, but now that Jimin’s up close, he sees the business’s sign painted on the side of the mailbox.

Il Mare.

It’s a Lake House themed bar.

Jimin spins around, squints down the street to see if the mysterious woman is still standing outside of the bathrooms. But it’s either too far, or she has gone home for the night, because all Jimin sees are bar goers and tourists and dozens of unfamiliar faces.

So he turns and faces Il Mare, a hollow feeling in his chest. When he presses the door open with a flat, sweaty palm, Jimin’s heart pounds so hard he’s afraid others will hear it.

Walking inside feels like walking through a time machine. Though the bar’s floor plan is a tad different from the bar that Jimin spent most of his weekends at uni in, its decoration is the exact same. One wall is plastered floor to ceiling with hand-written letters. Jimin knows if he gets close enough to read them, he’ll find heartfelt messages written from one lost lover to another, separated by nothing but time.

Blown up stills of lakeside scenery adorns the other walls, purple sunsets and blue cloudless skies, rocky sand and rickety piers. In the back are secluded booths, and in the front there’s the bar itself. Several patrons already line it, sitting on high stools, talking and laughing over their cheap drinks and greasy, fried snacks.

Jimin mindlessly sits on the last empty stool.

“What would you like, sir?” the bartender asks. She’s young, a silver hoop in her nose glinting beneath the dim lights. “Our specials are—”

“Just a beer is fine,” Jimin interrupts.

The girl nods and hurries to grab Jimin’s drink.

A year ago, Jimin was trying so hard to forget everything, and ever since, that’s what he’s done. Jimin has forced himself to shove all his pain aside though he’s never let it heal. But now, in this Siworae bar remake, he remembers more and more with every sip of beer that he takes.

He remembers the way he and his friends would cram into a booth and talk about their fears and their dreams. He remembers the way Jungkook told him over the phone that he and his friends did the same. Jimin realizes he had followed in Jungkook’s footsteps without even knowing it, finding himself in the same bar that he thought he’d lost forever.

Jimin isn’t sure what he expects to happen as he twirls on his stool and enjoys his beer. The couple to his right gets up and leaves; a lone student takes the available seat one spot away. For a moment, Jimin imagines Jungkook climbing onto the empty stool at his side, ordering a beer just like Jimin before turning to give his hyung a bunny-toothed smile.

But of course that doesn’t happen.

“Would you like another?” the bartender asks, nodding at Jimin’s empty glass.

“No thank you, just the check,” Jimin says. Then, before the young girl walks towards the register, Jimin asks, “How long has this bar been here?”

“Oh, it’s still very new,” she says. “The doors opened just last year. Actually, today’s our one-year anniversary.”

“Ah,” Jimin says, feeling faint. The bar’s anniversary is his birthday? What a coincidence… “Has it done well?”

The bartender shrugs. “I think so?”

Jimin chuckles. The poor girl probably just wants to finish her shift and go out with her friends. He nods and waves her off, and when she returns with the bill, he pays.

Then Jimin stands and heads out the door.

Instead of retracing his steps back to the bus that will take Jimin home, he follows the outlet next to the bar down to the beach. There aren’t many people here, just the occasional gaggle of girls stumbling along the boardwalk and a few people riding their bikes on the water-packed sand down by the water. Jimin sits on a stone ledge just off the road, taking his shoes off and digging his toes in the cool sand. 

Then, he pulls out his phone.

Every day since Jimin last spoke with Jungkook, he has checked his blocked contacts list to make sure one name is still there. Even on the days Jimin feels the most disconnected, seeing Jungkook’s name and number preserved in his phone has a grounding effect.

And Jungkook’s name is still there. There have been so many times Jimin has nearly unblocked him, has been so close to calling him up and begging for forgiveness. But the fear of the unknown always stops Jimin from reaching out. 

What if the number’s disconnected? What if someone else answers the phone? What if it is Jungkook, but a version of him that never knew Jimin?

But tonight, Jimin’s so close.

He’s so close to calling (or even just texting) Jungkook, so close to reaching out to tell his Busan boy about the new Lake House themed bar that’s been there all along. Because if what the bartender says is true, all Jimin had to do last year was walk a few more blocks and he would have found exactly what he was looking for, and none of this craziness would have happened.

Somehow, that feels even worse.

Jungkook’s name in Jimin’s phone blurs, hot tears welling up in Jimin’s eyes before falling onto his cheeks, down his nose. Before he does something he’ll regret, Jimin opens up his starred contacts and calls the top one.

After only one and a half rings, Taehyung picks up.

“Jimin,” Taehyung says. He sounds groggy, like Jimin’s woken him up. One look at the time tells Jimin he probably did. “Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry,” Jimin croaks, voice thick with tears. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“What’s wrong?” Taehyung asks, voice sharpening when he realizes Jimin’s upset. “Did something happen? Did you…?”

“N-no,” Jimin sobs. “No, he’s not here.”

“Oh, Min.”

“I shouldn’t have come,” Jimin says, voice dripping in disgust. “It was stupid to come here alone. He’s not fucking here.”

“I know, babe, I know,” Taehyung says. “Do you want me to come down? I doubt there are any more trains leaving tonight, but I’ll book the first one in the morning. Or I can book one for you to come back here? Whatever you need, Min-ah, I’ll do whatever you need.”

“He isn’t here,” Jimin says again, and Taehyung hums low, sympathetic. Jimin can’t quit saying it, like they’re the only words he knows anymore. “He isn’t here, he really isn’t.”

“I’m taking the next train to Busan, Jimin-ah,” Taehyung says, voice tight with concern. “Give me a few minutes, yeah? Let me book myself a ticket, and I’ll bring you back home. Can you make it to your parents’ house okay? Do you want me to call you a cab?”

Jimin doesn’t speak anymore.

He just pathetically sobs. 

“It’s gonna be okay. Okay?” Taehyung tries, but Jimin doesn’t think anything can console him at this point. “Hold tight. I’m buying the tickets now.”

Jimin mutes himself on the call, can’t stand the thought of Taehyung sitting there, helplessly listening to Jimin fall apart. People walking by ignore Jimin, probably assuming he’s drunk himself into hysterics, that he’s got a sober friend on the way.

So Jimin doesn’t hold back anymore.

His entire body shakes, weeping in waves. He holds his phone at his side, waiting for Taehyung to say something. Jimin wipes the watery snot from his nose, glaring at his toes in the sand, image warped by his tears.

Just as Jimin is about to unmute himself and ask if Taehyung is still there, to tell him he doesn’t have to come, that Jimin’s going to be fine, he just needs to let this—whatever this is—out, something jerks Jimin to attention.

Not something. Some one.

Someone’s voice.

“Hyung?” 

Jimin squints his eyes against the dark. Now that he pays attention, a cacophony of sounds greet him. Drunken students giggling, waves crashing onto shore. People riding bikes on the boardwalk, neurotically ringing their bells so patrons crowding the sidewalk will get out of the way. 

Once Jimin sorts through the chaos, he hears it. There it is again. A voice, recognizable though it’s a little different than Jimin remembers.

Deeper. More mature.

“Jimin-hyung? Is that you?”

And finally, Jimin sees him.

There’s a tall, broad man wearing a sweat suit standing a few meters in front of Jimin. A ballcap sits tight on his head, a mask pinches over his nose. But then the man pulls his mask down with a hand dotted with tattoos, and metal glints beneath the moon and stars—on his brow, through his lip, all over his ears. Wide eyes blink once, twice, disbelief no doubt mirroring Jimin’s.

“J-Jungkook-ah?”

“…hyung.”

Jimin’s phone slips from his hand, falling unceremoniously into the sand, before he leaps to his feet and launches himself into the arms of a familiar stranger.