Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Gorgeous edit for this story made by Vynix!

I can admit, I am not fireproof

Playlist

It all begins one dry, summer evening in June.

It’s one of those days – morning, afternoon, and evening melding together to form one drab haze in Jungkook’s mind. The day so far has been so magnificently unspectacular, the same motions he’s gone through for the past 2 years repeated like a broken record.

There’s nothing unique or even slightly different. Nothing at all. Jungkook still wakes up at around 10 am, takes a hit, and goes back to sleep. When he wakes up hours later, eyes red and limbs sluggish, everything looks the same. The curtains are still drawn, the musty smell of his apartment still pungent in the air.

Keeping the curtains closed and the lights off is his method of self-care. That way, he doesn’t have to see the empty bowls that need to be washed and the cigarette butts that didn’t make it to the bin courtesy of a bad trip. He doesn’t have to see the bottles of soju and the family picture that has lain shattered on the floor for the past two months.

Jungkook walks over to his fridge and eats the leftover pizza he’d had for dinner yesterday ice-cold. He flicks through the channels on his TV, not really paying attention to anything. He hasn’t been able to pay attention to anything for a while now. The late afternoon goes by in that haze, Jungkook sitting quietly on the couch of his upscale apartment.

It’s all the same. The exact same as yesterday and the exact same as tomorrow.

He then takes another hit, inhaling till his eyes burn dry and decides to buy some more cigarettes. Jungkook throws on a shirt, some old band tee that his brother had given him before he’d fucked it all up. He slips on his shoes - pretty sure they’re from two different pairs -  and starts to head to the grocery store down the street.

The walk is the same. Jungkook sticks to the center of the pavement, not moving out of the way even when he sees people approaching. People are quick to dart out of his path though, eyes averted and demeanor skimpish – the tattoos on his arms and rings in his ear not doing much to make him appear approachable. He skips over the one broken tile he always notices right by Mrs. Oh’s house.

He enters the grocery store, feeling the cool rush of the air conditioning hit him as he walks through the automatic sliding doors. He goes to the familiar aisle, picking up only one pack even though he knows he’ll smoke through it tonight. Jungkook craves needing something to do, so he doesn’t mind it if he has to make the walk here every day.

Today, he decides to buy a bag of chips too. Some new flavor he thinks he saw on TV. Jungkook likes the packaging, likes the way the bright purple looks in his hands.

He stands in line, eyes red and hair messy, clothes stinking of cigarettes, weed and his musty apartment. After around five minutes of waiting, he checks out, handing the cashier his credit card. Jungkook double checks that the two items are in the little plastic carrier before he starts his walk home.

Jungkook is mostly zoned out for this part of it. The hit he takes before leaving usually hits him by now, creating that soft buzz in his mind that dulls everything – making the world seem slow and fuzzy. He takes slow steps, deciding to open the bag of chips and enjoy them on his way back home.

He tears open the bag unceremoniously, right in the middle and throws a few of the chips into his mouth. He relishes the fresh crunch of it but once the taste registers, he finds that doesn’t like it.

In fact, he hates it. He hates it a lot more than he thought he would.

Jungkook drops the still full bag to the ground, leaving it on the pavement and continuing his walk.

“Hey! Excuse me!” He hears from behind him. He doesn’t bother to look.

Jungkook continues to walk, eyeing the turn he’ll have to take to cross the street. He hears fast-paced footsteps draw nearer and feels a firm tap on his shoulder a few seconds later.

He turns around, jaw clenched.

Before him is a small man. He’s looking at Jungkook with narrowed eyes, glinting with disapproval. His pink hair looks freshly washed and Jungkook eyes his lithe frame and pretty doll face, lightly amused at how intimidating this guy is clearly trying to be. Jungkook lets his hazy vision drag across his perfect skin to his plump lips and cheeks, traveling down to the small chubby fingers he’d gotten his attention with. They’re half covered by the sleeves of his lavender jacket, one of his hands holding Jungkook’s discarded bag of chips.

Jungkook is enraptured.

“You just littered,” The man says and Jungkook hadn’t registered his voice before, but now, it sounds like candy in his ears, soft and sickly sweet. He just stares.

“This isn’t your house for you to just leave trash all around. It’s still full too, what a waste-“ The pink-haired man scolds, looking at Jungkook with disapproval in his eyes. Something hot curls in his gut, fingers clenching.

Jungkook looks at his pale neck, observing his delicate collarbones and the little pendant he has on. He clearly isn’t warded off by Jungkook’s appearance. He should be. Jungkook takes a look at his thin wrists, clutching the bag.

He could snap them in half.

“There’s a bin right there,” The man says, pointing to the trash can at the edge of the pavement. “You just throw it in, it’s that simple.” He says, even demonstrating by dropping Jungkook’s chips into it.

Jungkook still doesn’t say anything, just stares. Turns out, he doesn’t have to. As soon as the man is done speaking, he shoots Jungkook one last glare before walking away, baby blue sneakers pattering across the pavement with each graceful step. His movements are fluid, light and Jungkook watches till he turns around the corner of the street and disappears out of view.

For the first time in a while, he feels something new.

-

It’s like he’s imprinted into his memory.

Jungkook can’t stop thinking about him. He can’t stop thinking about the icy contempt in his pretty eyes and the challenging aura with which he spoke to Jungkook. He can’t stop thinking about those small fingers on the back of his shoulder and the way the sunset shone over the tips of his soft cotton candy hair.

Jungkook can’t stop thinking about gripping those wrists in his hands, digging his inked fingers into the hollow of the bone.

He wants to see that look in his eyes again, just so he can break it. Make it his.

Perhaps it’s the makings of an unhealthy obsession. Jungkook doesn’t mind. There isn’t a single aspect of his life you could deem to be healthy in any shape or form. His body might be healthy, he tries hard to keep it that way, but his mind – that’s a different story.

Ever since he was born, Jungkook’s sister has told him that he ruins everything he touches. Anyone who thinks he does so involuntarily would be a fool.

If he’s given a gift, his fingers itch to destroy.

Jungkook has made the walk to the grocery store every day with the hopes of seeing him again. He lingers around the area sometimes, wondering if he’ll show. He’d never seen him before.

He doesn’t show.

 Sometimes, Jungkook wonders if he imagined it all. That the other man was just a fairy who appeared to remind him of what a fuck-up he was. He wouldn’t really be surprised if that were the case.

Jungkook sighs as he thinks about him, standing in his balcony. He observes the ones below him and in the buildings around his, noticing the vibrant flower pots and the occasional hammock or grill. His balcony is bare, barren – dusty and empty save for the ash. He can afford a maid - he just doesn’t want anyone intruding on his space.

Jungkook takes a drag of his cigarette. The smoke is stale on his tongue. He’s run out of weed. Jungkook breathes in the view half-heartedly, looking at the park across the street. It’s bright and green, full of little kids running around and playing in colorful jungle gyms. He looks at the ice-cream truck parked by the entrance, kids dragging their parents toward it in an attempt to get an ice-cold treat.

“Jungkook!” He hears, a deep voice bellowing out in the air. He follows the familiar sound, looking down to see Taehyung standing at the base of his building. He’s waving his arms, a wide smile on his face. His messy curls are tucked into a beanie, inked arms covered with the sleeves of his jacket.

Jungkook puts out his cigarette on the railing, letting the butt of it join the congregation of others on the balcony floor. He’ll get around to cleaning the apartment soon.

He throws on a pair of shoes and heads downstairs, an ‘oomph’ leaving his chest when Taehyung hugs him. A few of the families eye them warily. Jungkook is the odd one out in this neighborhood, living in an affluent complex with the residents being mostly well-to-do families and the elderly. They can’t kick him out because, well, he owns the building.

That’s why he has the apartment on the top floor – so he can do his own thing without anyone to bother him.

“Hey,” Jungkook says, the both of them starting to walk out of the complex and toward Taehyung’s car.

“What were you thinking about up there?” Taehyung asks, pressing the button on his keys to unlock the doors to his car remotely. It’s a modest sedan. Taehyung cashed in most of his stuff to buy it.

“What do you mean?” Jungkook asks. The other man waits till they’re both in the quiet of the car, turning the engine on. The radio turns on too and the voice of the show host irks him, so he turns down the volume.

“You had this intense look on your face. I could spot it from ten stories below.”

“Bills,” Jungkook answers.

“Okay,” Taehyung concedes. His tone is knowing like he’s aware that Jungkook is hiding something.

They’ve been friends since forever. Taehyung had joined his school on a fund, his orphanage being a beneficiary of one of the sponsors of the prestigious institution. They’d been inseparable ever since the first day – when Taehyung had the balls to walk up to him and point out that the essay he read out in class was bullshit.

They drive in silence and Jungkook looks outside for most of it, brightening up when they reach his favorite part of this familiar route. It’s the little turn near the old theatre and the slow pull of Taehyung’s car into the parking space near the rundown auto shop. It’s all the same – the opening of the car door and press of his sneakers against the rough asphalt, the scent of engine oil evident in the air. Not pleasant, but familiar.

Yoongi’s building is old. This used to be a pretty popular area, more residential, but with the rise of gang activity and the increasing presence of what Jungkook’s parents would call the unsavory sort, everyone moved to other parts of the city. Notably, where Jungkook lives.

The two of them make the walk up to the second floor of the run-down building, some of the brick showing through peeled paint in the stairwell. The door to the apartment is already open when they get there, the wood propped up against the spray-painted wall of the hallway. They can hear some music playing from one of the other apartments further down. Someone’s having a party.

“Hey,” Taehyung says as they enter, attracting the attention of Namjoon who is currently preoccupied with making a house of cards in the living room. He stacks them carefully, with a focused precision to the way his nimble fingers move. Jungkook notices that his face isn’t as hollow as it used to be.

“Hey, guys! How’s it going?” Namjoon greets with a relaxed smile, leaning back on the floor against the couch. When Jungkook had come here for the first time, all that was in this shitty one-bedroom was a second-hand mattress pushed up against the wall. It seems that Yoongi has now upgraded to a couch, a few chairs, and a coffee table too. Jungkook thinks he can see a shiny frying pan in the kitchen.

The man in question arrives shortly, large white t-shirt hanging off his small frame. Yoongi’s hair is shaggy, like he’d just woken up. He takes a seat on the couch that Namjoon is leaning against, flinching a little as Taehyung plops down next to him and throws a long arm over his shoulder.

“Someone’s cheerful,” Jungkook comments as he sits down onto a chair, noticing the way Namjoon’s dimples are more prominent today. Taehyung gets up and heads into the kitchen, returning with a grilled cheese sandwich he’d obviously sniffed out.

“I’m just feeling better these days, that’s all,” Namjoon says, carefully balancing an ace of spades to form a new tier to the house of cards. Taehyung has a look on his face, like he wants to blow it away.

“He has a girlfriend, that’s why,” Yoongi clarifies, already starting to roll up. His pale fingers work fast to strain the weed, the smell of it pungent in the air. Both Jungkook and Taehyung raise their eyebrows.

“You have a girlfriend?” Taehyung asks, nudging Namjoon’s shoulder. The other man nods.

“Yeah. Her name is Chaewon. She’s a teacher,” He answers, looking a little proud. Jungkook snorts.

“How’d you bag that?” He asks. Namjoon makes his living as a remodeler. He’d only recently gotten the job, a few months ago.

“I didn’t bag that. She’s a person.”

“I know, Hyung,” Jungkook says, rolling his eyes. “How’d you get her, then?”

“I was helping her out with some renovations. I liked her from the start, just waited till the end of the project to ask her out,” Namjoon answers. Taehyung nudges him again teasingly, a wide grin on his face.

“That’s nice,” Jungkook comments halfheartedly, digging his nails into his thighs. He looks up when he hears the telltale sound of a lighter flicking on followed by the unmistakable smell of a joint being lit.

“Is there anything else you wanna tell them?” Yoongi suggests. Namjoon looks up at him, seeming unsure. His eyes flit to Jungkook for a second, whose eyes are focused on the joint.

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea-“

“Tell us. We’ll find out anyway.” Taehyung insists, now curious. Jungkook is too, looking at Namjoon with narrowed eyes. He plays with the joint in between his fingers, bringing it to his lips.

Namjoon sets the cards down, looking at both Taehyung and him hesitantly.

“Chaewon, she uh, lives with Seohyun.”

Jungkook raises his eyebrows. He finds that everyone in the room is looking at him, carefully gauging his reaction.

Seohyun is his ex-girlfriend. They broke up over a year ago. It wasn’t pretty. He hasn’t heard from her since, the other having blocked him on all social media post the breakup. Not that he cares.

“How is she doing?” Jungkook asks conversationally. He’s not sure that he even liked her. He remembers her – eager to please, swooned by the dark persona, and having some sort of savior complex. She was convenient.

“She’s fine. Joined the national ballet,” Namjoon answers. Jungkook raises his eyebrows. She’d always wanted to. Jungkook never really went to any of her performances. Perhaps he should have.

“That’s cool,” Jungkook responds. Namjoon rejects the joint when it’s handed to him, passing it to Taehyung instead who leans back on the couch and takes a long drag, closing his eyes shut.

“Have you guys spoken, since…?” Namjoon asks.

“No. You know this. She blocked me.”

“Do you wanna see how she’s doing?” Namjoon asks.

Yoongi raises his eyebrows, interjecting.

“Joon.”

“You’re the one who wanted me to tell him.”

“Yeah, so that it isn’t weird if they cross paths,” Yoongi retorts.

“Sure, show me,” Jungkook responds, getting up and settling on the floor next to Namjoon. The other man unlocks his phone. Taehyung hooks his head over Jungkook’s shoulder, curious too. He’d been friends with Seohyun. Taehyung gets along with most people. Yoongi sits back on the couch, not really paying attention.

Namjoon opens up his Instagram, quickly opening up Seohyun’s feed. It’s colorful, lots of pictures of her smiling brightly, her long black hair and small nose the same as he remembers. There are a few of her executing complicated stretches in a studio, some of her on stage and others with who Namjoon introduces as his girlfriend. Chaewon is short with a bob cut, all cute glasses and pale skin.

“She looks happy,” Taehyung says.

“She is,” Namjoon comments, scrolling through her feed. Jungkook feels an edge of bitterness course through him as he looks at her happy photos. It’s not that he misses her, not at all.

It’s just the constant feeling of being left behind. Almost everyone he knows is doing things, working toward their dreams – no matter how small. This little group of theirs became his safe space once everything fell apart. Namjoon is now working toward happiness, making small changes. It irks him.

Jungkook insists that he doesn’t feel the need to change. But the edge that it creates, any reminder, any semblance of it – it’ll drive him to the brink of insanity if he allows it to.

“Here’s her big performance from last month,” Namjoon says, pulling up a picture of a group on a massive stage, all tucked into leotards and skin-tight leggings. Jungkook spots her instantly toward the right, smiling brightly with her hair tucked into a neat bun.

Jungkook looks at the picture. He observes the bright lights, the sheer size of the stage. He lets his vision drag across each of the happy faces, flushed with relief and exhaustion until it comes to an abrupt halt at the person in the center.

Jungkook’s heart stops for a second, yanking the phone out of Namjoon’s hands.

It’s him. It has to be.

“Hey-“ Namjoon complains, trying to get his phone back. Jungkook’s grip on the sleek device doesn’t budge. He stares, zooming into the photo.

He breathes in the person in the center, gaze dragging greedily across his hot pink hair to his flushed cheeks, plump lips spread into a dazzling smile. Jungkook looks at his small body tucked into a leotard, highlighting his waist and toned arms and legs, smooth thighs almost on display through the sheer leggings and the satin of his pointe shoes. His delicate wrists are holding a massive bouquet of flowers, Jungkook’s eyes drawn to the way his fingers don’t even wrap around the base of it fully.

Such a sharp contrast to the tough little cookie he saw the other day.

Somehow, in some sort of perfect cliché of the moment, the house of cards Namjoon had been building falls apart gracefully, collapsing onto the table and the floor.

“Who is this?” Jungkook asks Namjoon as the other man tries to gather the cards, tapping his finger against the screen. Namjoon squints at the picture.

“I don’t know. Must be one of the other performers. Why, do you know him?”

Jungkook doesn’t respond. He feels something hot curl in his gut, eyes unable to look away from the other man’s smiling face, how delicate he seems up there on the stage. How content, how righteous, how pure.

Pure.

His fingers itch.

“No, I don’t,” Jungkook answers. He’s a little alarmed somewhere distant in his foggy brain but the emotions are easy to place – he’s only felt them once before. It’s something dark, clawing up his spine and seeping into his veins. There’s some sort of desperate hunger, one that he’s never felt and one that he knows won’t disappear easily.

Jungkook doesn’t believe in a lot of things but he does in fate.

Fate brings things to him.

It’s up to him whether he takes.

And up there, on the stage, smiling so brightly, so easy – Jungkook’s fingers itch to grab, squeeze, meld.

He taps on the picture, the usernames of the performers tagged popping up the screen. His fingers increase their grip on the phone.

Park Jimin

-

It’s easy to find him.

Almost too easy.

The very next day, Jungkook does the unexpected. He sets an alarm for 6 am. He goes to the gym, eats another shitty breakfast, and gets high off of some good strain he’d bought off of Yoongi.

Jungkook then takes a taxi to the address of the studio in the picture, finding a nice café just across the road from it. He orders something he doesn’t remember and sits down, right at the table next to the window. It’s an academy for dance, long stairs trailing up to a nice set of doors.

At exactly 7:30 am, Jungkook sees him. He’s impossible to miss, his hair a stark differentiator from the mundane, replaceable people around him. Just the sight of him has his blood pumping, something feral simmering under his skin.

Despite the early hour, he shines as bright as the sun – hair neat and glowing underneath the soft morning light, eyes bright and a nice jacket wrapped around his small frame. He walks with a group, all of them chattering as they walk up the stairs.

Jungkook watches him like a hawk, memorizing all the tiny details. The way his nails are short and stubby – bitten raw. The pink of his lips, the paleness of his skin in the early morning.

He can’t hear his laugh through the glass, but he’ll remedy that soon.

Jungkook watches as Jimin is swallowed by the group once they enter, disappearing behind the doors. His feet ache with the need to follow, eyes hard as they hold on to the last few glimpses of the smaller man as he enters work. Jungkook leans back in his chair, trying to make sense of what he’s doing.

Stalker

He doesn’t care. There’s some sort of instinct he has with these things. Jimin came into his life for a reason.

The staff in the café don’t push or ask him questions even when he crosses the 4-hour mark. Jungkook still sits there, occasionally flicking through a magazine.

Jungkook is used to having two meals a day, never really awake for breakfast, so he orders lunch too. Some chicken sandwich. It’s a little dry, not at all like the ones his maid would make back home but it’ll do. He eats it leisurely, eyes still trained on the door of the academy.

Jimin remerges at 1 pm. This time, alone. He steps out of the building, walking gracefully down the stairs and starting to stroll down the street.

So oblivious.

Jungkook follows. He takes his sandwich to go, the poor girl at the counter hurrying to wrap it up at his insistence. He can’t lose him.

He keeps some distance, around 10 paces between them and follows from the other side of the street. Jimin is a little pink in the face now, hair not as neat. He must have been practicing. Jungkook wishes that the walls of the building were glass so that he could see Jimin dance.

Jimin eventually stops at some other café, some small vegan place. He sits in the outdoor seating area, murmuring something to the staff who seem to know him. Jimin then takes out his phone, clicking a selfie. His small fingers are shaped in a peace sign, pressed against his soft cheek. Jungkook watches from a grocery store across the street. As predicted, the picture goes up on his Instagram story a few seconds later.

He watches as Jimin’s order arrives – some insubstantial salad without any dressing. Jimin thanks the waiter and then proceeds to pick at it like a squirrel, fork holding barely anything as he eats. Jimin adjusts his seat so that his face is underneath the shade, the sunlight instead falling over his neck and collarbones.

And as he watches Jimin pick at his food, so unaware of what’s stirring barely 15 feet away from him, all he can think about is how beautiful he’d look under him. How it would feel to have those pretty wrists in his grip, see those bright eyes starry with tears threatening to spill over his thick lashes. Jungkook wants to know if the rest of him is as blemish-free as his pale neck, whether his own hand would fit nicely around his throat, gentle. He wants to see those lips bitten raw, crying out whispers of his name against silk sheets.

Jungkook’s fingers itch, but less to destroy.

More to possess.

Jimin takes his time to eat his meager meal, taking dainty bites of lettuce, pine nuts, kale, and cherry tomatoes. He then proceeds to pack up over half of it, paying his dues and beginning his walk back. Jungkook follows, eyes trained on the soft mop of pink hair. He wonders how Jimin exists – living on so little.

Jungkook can sense that dark feeling that originated weeks ago start to grow and he wonders if it’ll always be like this, if this inherent infatuation he feels will continue to grow, seep into his bones and take over his mind as it does now. Jimin feels like a drug, one that Jungkook got a tiny whiff of by chance, one that he’s going to keep all to himself.

Jungkook watches as Jimin turns abruptly into an alleyway, hurrying ahead to see what he’s doing. He watches as Jimin crouches on the ground next to a litter of kittens, barely a few weeks old and props open the takeout box of greens.

Jungkook knows that cats don’t eat vegetables but these must be pretty hungry because they’re quick to start eating, small mouths feasting on the cherry tomatoes and tearing at the dry lettuce. Jimin watches with a fond smile, scratching at their little heads with a small finger. He then reaches out into his backpack and pulls out a water bottle, pouring some of the liquid into a bowl that’s already been kept there. He smiles as he plays with them, plump lips pushed out into a little beak as he looks downward.

Jungkook watches, fascinated. He feels that possessive feeling well up once more within him, wanting to reach out and tuck a strand of his pastel hair behind his ear. He wants to be a part of this. Maybe he could be gentle.

Jimin eventually stands back up and continues his journey back to work, disappearing back into the academy without any other interruption. Jungkook returns to his seat back inside the café, noticing the way the girl manning the counter tenses a little as he enters. He might have snapped when she took too long packing up his food earlier.

Around an hour later, Jungkook’s phone starts to ring. He answers, eyes still on the doors of the academy so that he doesn’t miss Jimin.

“Hello?”

“Hey. Where are you? You aren’t answering the door.” Taehyung’s voice sounds out.

“I’m not home.”

“Where are you? I’ll come.”

“I’m out. I’ll text you once I’m back.”

“Stop being so secretive. Just tell me.”

Jungkook doesn’t want to tell him. Taehyung wouldn’t approve of this. Not that he cares. He just doesn’t want the headache of the other man’s moral juxtaposition breathing down his neck. Taehyung has always been the righteous type. Similar to Jimin, just not as easy to break.

“I’ll see you soon,” Jungkook says abruptly, ending the call.

Jimin leaves work at 4 pm. He looks freshly showered, his lavender duffel bag handing loosely off his shoulder. Jungkook follows, watching with rapt attention. He tries not to blink, feeling like Jimin might disappear if he does. Disappear out of Jungkook’s life as easily as he came into it.

Childhood Jungkook would think Jimin was a fairy. The way he moves, light and hypnotizing, footsteps so smooth and graceful that Jungkook finds himself lulled by it. Jimin would look beautiful with a pair of glittery wings, maybe pink like his hair and lips. Maybe he’d be a pixie. He has the spirit of one and would fit perfectly in Jungkook’s hand. He’d keep him there. He’d never have to fly again.

Jimin doesn’t live in the best area.

It’s not too bad, but the streets are empty and there are barely any people around. Yoongi’s is still worse. A few cars drive through the long road, the buildings around them grey and stark. They pass a grocery store but other than that, there’s barely anything.

Jimin enters a small three-story building. He walks through the glass doors and up the stairwell, out of Jungkook’s view finally. The loss of Jimin affects him more than he thought it would, evident in the clench of his jaw and the way his mind is blank, unable to figure out what to do now that he’s out of sight.

It feels like there’s a hollow, one that Jimin would be perfect to fill. But he can’t have him now. Not yet.

After around an hour of waiting to see if Jimin steps out again, Jungkook leaves. He walks till he finds a taxi, traveling through the rapidly blooming dusk to Yoongi’s place. Jimin’s silhouette is in the back of his mind, his smiling face flashing through the recesses of it as he drives through the city. The gears are turning in his head, the weight of the decision he’s already made in his head looming over him.

When he reaches Yoongi’s, the other man is surprised to see him.

“Hey,” He says, opening the door wider to allow Jungkook to enter. The lights are off, the orange of the dusk now turned indigo, the apartment somber and quiet. It stinks of weed although it looks clean. He sits on the couch, watching as Yoongi puts his weight on the heavy door to shut it properly.

“Do you still push coke?” Jungkook asks, getting straight to the point.

Yoongi pauses, but only momentarily where he stands in the doorway. He turns around, propping a hand on the wall. He’s wearing a loose muscle tee, his pale arms on display.

“I don’t know. Why?”

That’s all the confirmation Jungkook needs.

“I want some.”

“I’m not selling it to you,” Yoongi responds immediately, without hesitation. He walks over to sit down on the couch next to him, looking at him with narrowed eyes.

“You need the money,” Jungkook responds. He knows it’s true.

“Where is this coming from? You haven’t relapsed in a year,” Yoongi asks, sounding serious.

“Look at this dump. Are you really happy living like this?” Jungkook diverts, gesturing to the apartment. Yoongi clenches his jaw, eyes sharp.

“That’s none of your business. I’m not selling it to you,” He responds, tone firm. His face is hard and Jungkook knows he’s offended him.

“Didn’t you want to save up to take your sister on a holiday?” Jungkook asks, knowing immediately that he’s hit a nerve. Yoongi’s parents died when he was 17 and his sister went to foster care, the government deeming Yoongi unable to care for her on his own. Her new family lets him see her, but barely. Yoongi’s been mentioning saving up to take her somewhere nice for a while now. Beyond that, he also overheard Yoongi talking to Namjoon about how he probably wouldn’t be able to make rent this month, needing to borrow some money.

The other man is silent.

“Think about this way – if I don’t buy from you, I’d find someone else.”

“I would rather that. I wouldn’t need to bear the guilt of fueling your destructive tendencies,” Yoongi mutters.

“3 grams.”

“Jungkook-“

“I’ll pay you triple,” Jungkook answers immediately, knowing that he’s won with the look on the other man’s face. He knows that Yoongi needs the money. It’s evident in the cold of the apartment and how stark it is. The other man stares at him, lip caught between his teeth.

If there’s anything Jungkook has, it’s money. There’s nothing else.

“Reconsider,” Yoongi says, almost pleading. “I thought you left that life behind you.”

“I left myself behind too. All of this – it’s a part of who I am,” Jungkook explains, glad that he’s able to put down his feelings into words. Many people would say that he’s better off now, but he disagrees. He’s lost so much of himself. Meeting Jimin awakened something inside of him – brought back some desire to live, to act, to do something - all that he thought died years ago.

If he’s going to be himself again, he’s going to do it properly.

“You decide who you are,” Yoongi says. “Letting your vices make that call isn’t right.”

“For a drug dealer, you don’t really market well.”

“Stop joking around, Kook. This is serious.” Yoongi says, face ridden with conflict. He’s caught in between two potential scenarios – selling Jungkook the coke and aiding his toxicity or to end up on the streets with no food or shelter, only for Jungkook to have found an alternate route to his downfall.

“I’ve made my decision, Hyung,” Jungkook says, sure. His mind is racing.

Yoongi stares at him for a few more seconds before standing up, heading further into the apartment. He returns a few minutes later with a small clear packet in his hands. Jungkook’s blood races at the mere sight of the bag, fingers flexing. He can already taste the drug on his tongue, burning through his nostrils and racing through his brain. The white powder is stark against Yoongi’s pale hand, almost glowing menacingly in the dark of the room.

“Take it and go before I change my mind,” Yoongi says, flinging the bag in his direction. Jungkook catches it easily, fingers curling around it possessively.

“There’s just one more thing,” Jungkook says. Yoongi raises an eyebrow, looking burdened.

“You can’t tell Tae or Namjoon Hyung,” Jungkook says. Namjoon would get all serious with him, sit him down, and give him the talk he’s heard before but Taehyung – he’d stop talking to him entirely. They’d both left it behind a long time ago. Namjoon would come from a place of prior addiction, narrating how meth ruined his life in college, assuming that it’d be the same for Jungkook. Taehyung, on the other hand, saw Jungkook at his worst. He saw his spirals, his destructive tendencies, the irrational ticks he’d get while his pupils were mere pinpricks in his eyes. Taehyung had been the same but was strong enough to pull himself out of it.

Jungkook isn’t stupid. He won’t let himself get to that point again. It had cost him everything.

But now, when he has Jimin – he needs it. There’s a sense of entitlement to the thought, that Jimin is already his and just needs to be collected, taken. The high would only better the chase.

He’s obsessed, and there’s no other way to be alive.

Jungkook plays with the little baggie with his fingers, increasing and decreasing his grip on it. He thinks about pretty Jimin with his pretty smile and his pretty eyes. He thinks about how soft he was as he played with the kittens and how lost and vulnerable he looked as he ate – just waiting. Alone.

Jungkook is alone too. He’s always been alone. He’d grown up with family and siblings sure, but there’s never been anyone who knew him at his entirety or had the guts to challenge him for it. He’s content in his loneliness.

But now, he needs something more.

-

Jungkook discovers that Jimin isn’t alone.

He has friends, lots of them. While he eats lunch alone every day like clockwork, he frequently meets different people for drinks in the evening or out during the weekends. That’s another thing Jungkook has noticed about him. Jimin likes alcohol. He sticks to a maximum of two drinks each time he goes out, nursing the glass of alcohol in his small hands. Presumably due to his profession. Or due to the fact that he could be a lightweight.

Jimin is Jungkook’s life now.

He wakes up every morning and waits discreetly by Jimin’s building, waiting for him to emerge with his face that’s sometimes too puffy from sleep. He follows him to work and then back home, sometimes waiting and accompanying him if he goes out later.

Jungkook doesn’t have anything to do and there’s honestly no other way he’d rather spend his time. Jimin is so fascinating – an enigma of feigned self-sufficiency paired with the vulnerability of a doe during hunting season. He can sense the way Jimin toughs it up, acts like he’s okay where he is. He knows he isn’t. Jimin’s always under his eye after all. He sees it in the way his shoulders slump, posture weakening as soon as he’s alone.

Jimin obviously doesn’t like being alone. He screams roots – needing company and physical touch. That’s the thing Jungkook finds to be the most endearing about him. The way Jimin lingers once his little group of friends dissipates after work, the way he makes himself smaller on his way back home, plagued by solitude. The way he seems to bloom when he’s under someone’s attention, glowing when he feels a casual arm on his shoulder or gets pulled into a warm hug.

Jungkook knows he’ll break easy. He’s being held up by a mere string. Jungkook would take that burden off his shoulders; touch him all he’d like. He’d never be alone – vulnerable and open to danger.

He meets Taehyung and the others only once he’s sure Jimin is sound asleep in his apartment, waiting till the lights turn off and Jimin appears by the smooth glass to open it for some fresh air before he sleeps.

Jimin’s sleep clothes are always thin t-shirts and cotton shorts, the colors of them always soft and dotted with pretty patterns. Jungkook imagines how they’d feel underneath his fingertips, against the back of his hand as he runs his inked fingers over Jimin’s porcelain skin. Would he bruise easy? He wonders how he smells. He’s not going to try and find out. He wants to taste it on his tongue when it’s the right time.

Jimin also teaches dance occasionally, offering private lessons. He sees him disappear with his cute little duffel bag, sometimes to the affluent houses in Jungkook’s neighborhood. The smaller man always gets escorted to the door after, his students often lovesick teenage girls who clearly have a crush. That explains the way they met.

He’s aware of every single aspect of his routine. Jungkook also knows some of Jimin’s friends, identifies a pattern of who he hangs out with and where. He isn’t fazed when he sees him chat conversationally with Seohyun on his way out of work one day. When Seohyun throws an arm around his slim shoulders, Jungkook thinks about how those hands were touched by him. They’re now touching Jimin.

Jungkook watches Jimin right now, as he enters a restaurant with two friends. These are the two he meets the most – one tall and poised, an air of affluence to him. It’s evident in his well-looked after physique and clothes that don’t stand out but are evidently from expensive brands. Jungkook would know, he has a closet full of them. The other one is a little more approachable, soft brown curls with a face that’s always smiling, clad in colorful clothing that attracts the eye.

Jungkook follows behind them, mind working at an alarming rate. His eyes are sharp and he can hear everything louder thanks to the drugs in his blood system, watching Jimin with rapt attention. He sits a few tables away, such that he can see their side profiles.

Jungkook watches as the cheerful one takes the seat right next to Jimin, throwing an arm around the back of his chair. This one is interested in him – he can tell. It’s obvious in the way the man’s vision is drawn to Jimin’s lips as he speaks, a fondness in his eyes Jungkook can place too easy.

His fingers grip harder around the icy glass of his drink as he watches the man rest his hand over Jimin’s as he speaks, the smaller man totally in the dark about his intentions. The man’s hand moves down to his wrist, clasping around it loosely once his little story that he had to tell is finished. It stays there.

Smooth.

Jungkook wouldn’t allow him two feet near Jimin once he’s his. He’s burning daggers into his frame, glaring at the smooth slope of the other man’s nose and his heart-shaped smile.

His eyes wander and they manage to catch those of the third man on the table. The sophisticated one.

He’s looking at Jungkook, scrutinizing. Jungkook holds the gaze, eyes sharp and fingers drumming against the side of his chair. There’s a buzz between his ears from the cocaine, stance relaxed and uncaring even though he’s been caught looking.

The other man’s hair is perfect, midnight black and falling in soft waves over his forehead. He looks like the type Jungkook’s sister would swoon for and his family would approve of – well-settled and dignified. He’s the stark opposite of Jungkook with his beige and emerald green ensemble, but the same as what he used to be.

The moment is broken by the sudden thump of a hand in the center of his table. Jungkook looks up to see Taehyung, the other man’s eyebrow raised.

“What are you doing?” His best friend asks, taking a seat opposite him and effectively blocking his view of the other man.

“I’m grabbing dinner,” Jungkook answers.

“I followed you. You’ve been sitting here for 30 minutes with just a soda and staring at nothing.”

Not nothing.

“Why are you following me?” Jungkook demands, feeling irritated.

“You’ve been acting weird these past few weeks. You’re never at home and you’re super secretive about where you go. Can you blame me for being concerned?”

 “I’m fine. I’m just tired of sitting at home.”

Taehyung sighs, looking down at his fingers carded together over the smooth surface of the table.

“You could just call. I’m as free as you are in between my shifts.” Taehyung says. “I’m sorry for not spending as much time with you, it’s just that it’s been harder for me to make rent these days especially in between-“

“You could’ve asked for help,” Jungkook says, now deciding to open the menu. He looks at all the appealing junk food written in bold letters across the laminated plastic, already making him hungry. He wonders what Jimin ordered. Nothing on the menu is what he would typically choose.

“I don’t want your family’s money,” Taehyung responds. The statement was probably well-intended but it makes Jungkook’s jaw clench. It cuts sharp, rubbing in the notion that Jungkook just lives off his family’s money. He does, but he’d rather not be reminded of it. He’s owed it.

“That’s fair.”

“Gguk.”

“What?”

“You’ll talk to me when you’re ready, right?”

No

“Yes. Let’s eat.”

Taehyung orders a greasy beef burger while Jungkook gets a steak, medium-rare. Taehyung chatters to him absent-mindedly about his work as a mechanic, something he’d picked up a while ago. It’s one of the few jobs he can take up with his two full tattoo sleeves. Jungkook responds when appropriate, trying to conceal the fidgeting of his fingers – Taehyung would realize in an instant.

Jungkook imagines how it would be if it were Jimin sitting before him instead, chewing cutely on a burger. He doubts his small mouth would be able to take a full bite. Jungkook would feed him, he wouldn’t have to lift a single finger. Just sit pretty in his lap with his mouth dropped open because it’s time to be fed.

He catches glimpses of the smaller man ever so often, careful not to draw suspicion from Taehyung. He’s still smiling prettily, now enjoying a strawberry milkshake. There’s some sort of anxiety that’s attached itself to Jungkook’s mind, perhaps fueled by the cocaine, that Jimin would not do well out of his vision. He’s far too careless – never wary of his surroundings, unaware of the intentions of the people around him.

The thought is hypocritical at the crux of it – he wishes for Jimin to be protected from all dangers akin to him. To be exclusively his, at the threat of destruction only at his hands. The realization makes him chuckle.

Jimin and his friends leave first, the happy one’s arms steady around his shoulders. He laughs high-pitched and airy at some joke, the third friend following behind with a fond smile. Jungkook resists the urge to stand up and follow, so accustomed to doing so. Taehyung still talks about something redundant, some animal shelter he’s considering volunteering at if and when he has the time.

Jungkook couldn’t care less. He’s thinking about the dangers Jimin might face on his way home. Not everyone is like Jungkook who could hold back, be patient. There’s bound to be misfortune in chasing instant gratification. Jimin deserves something more, something full-bodied and cultivated.

He knows so much about Jimin now, so much about his little mannerisms and habits that only come out in the shadow of solitude. Jungkook can pull his strings like a pretty little marionette. He’s always been highly perceptive of people, it’s what he was praised for when he was younger. He’s never usually wrong.

Taehyung and Jungkook leave shortly after, the former dropping him home with a hug and a promise to hang out the next day. Jungkook nods, agreeing. He’ll make time once Jimin is asleep.

As soon Taehyung leaves in his car, Jungkook takes a taxi to Jimin’s to make sure he’s asleep, safe in his apartment on the third floor.

He isn’t.

The lights are on, the golden lighting of the small apartment the only one visible in the building. Jungkook watches as Jimin and the man from earlier seem to sing and dance to some sort of song, loud enough to sound out dully through the shut glass of the window. They seem excited, Jimin seemingly on a sugar rush, performing wacky steps and singing into his little karaoke microphone. The other man steadies him with an arm around his waist, laughing happily too as they finish the last few notes of the song.

The other man presses his nose to Jimin’s hair once they’re done, Jimin barely noticing as he sways to the soft tune, a giddy smile still on his pretty face. Jungkook has never seen him so happy.

So naïve

Jungkook blends into the shadows of the alley next to the building opposite Jimin’s, the haven it offers perfect for him to look at Jimin’s apartment windows all he wants while staying completely undetectable. His black boots grind against the asphalt, the glow of his lit cigarette the only light in the dark alley.

He wonders if they’ve had sex. Whether Jimin dances for the other man, does pretty little pirouettes and laughs happy giggles that should be reserved only for him. Would Jimin crave for his attention or be capable of looking at him with contempt like he did Jungkook? He wonders if the malice he saw was reserved only for him.

He concludes that they haven’t. The way the other man dances around Jimin is much like a chase – feelings worked towards, not yet at their peak. Their body language does not point to sexual intimacy, still very much platonic and almost coy. Jimin sees him as a friend.

Jungkook watches as the other man leaves a while later, observing as Jimin waits by the entrance of his building for him to disappear down the street. The other man turns around multiple times to wave at Jimin as he goes, his wide smile poking at Jungkook’s patience each time. Jimin watches from behind the glass door, clad in one of his sleep shirts and tiny shorts that barely peek out under it. His thighs are on display, skin smooth and flawless. Jungkook eyes the definition to them, evidence of his practice and experience as a dancer. He wants to pull at the delicate skin with his teeth, punish him for allowing another man into his home.

Jimin heads upstairs once his friend disappears. Around five minutes later, he appears by his bedroom window as expected, opening up the glass carefully. Jungkook catches his last glimpse of him for the night before the light switches off, marking the end of Jimin’s rather eventful day.

Jungkook decides to do something new.

He heads into the building, trudging up the dark stairwell till he reaches the third floor. The entire building is eerily silent, like Jimin is the only inhabitant of the structure. Jungkook wouldn’t be too surprised if it were the case. The area is lonely, terribly so.

He comes to a stop outside Jimin’s door, the one he’s mapped out to be his based on his analysis of the building layout. Jimin has a cute doormat – a nice peach color with the word ‘welcome’ written across it in fancy white lettering. It’s the only one in the dark hallway, the rest of the doors bare and empty.

Jungkook thinks about how Jimin is only a few steps away now, sleeping soundly in his cozy bed. He wonders if his soft skin is warm from sleep, whether his features blank out when he’s in his happy dreams. He wishes that there wasn’t a solid door in between them.

Jungkook presses his forehead to the wood, wishing that he were inside now. He wonders if Jimin even remembers him. If he were to break down this door right now, rouse Jimin from his dreams, would the smaller man be able to identify him as the stoned guy he scolded on a random street a month ago?

Would he be afraid to see him? Jungkook wouldn’t hurt him. Not too much.

He could scream, but no one would hear him. Maybe Jimin would regret speaking to him, ever entering his life in the most mundane way possible.

Jungkook wouldn’t allow him to. He’d give Jimin everything he could ever want – love, attention, financial security, and touch. He’d touch Jimin all the time, so he’d never feel lonely, never have to fall asleep alone in this dark, quiet apartment building with danger looming around the corner.

Jungkook leaves soon after, deciding to head home. He’s not going to break in or force himself into Jimin’s life.

He’ll be welcomed, needed. Make Jimin an addict as he did him.

-

Jungkook lays in his bed, wide awake at 4 in the morning. The sheets smell stale, the permanent stench of weed having attached itself to every crevice of his apartment. A little baggie of cocaine lies limp and useless on his nightstand. Jungkook stares at the ceiling of his room, looking at the projection of the time on the smooth concrete. He has one of those clocks that project the time through laser, such that whenever he’ll open his eyes, he’ll get to see the time.

He picks up his phone and dials his older sister’s number without too much thought, uncaring of the hour. She doesn’t answer.

He tries again. Still no response.

Jungkook tries a few more times. She picks up on the sixth attempt.

“Jungkook.”

“Noona.”

“Haven’t you seen the time?”

“I know you weren’t sleeping. Still at the office?”

She’s silent for a few seconds.

“What do you want, Jungkook?”

“Happy birthday Noona. I remembered.”

The rapid sound of typing he can hear from her end of the line ceases, followed by more silence.

“You didn’t forget, did you?” He asks.

“Why are you calling me? You have everything you need. We made it clear-“

“How are you celebrating? Big family dinner?”

“Jungkook-“

“Has Sungwoon gotten you a nice present? He seems like the type. Although technically, I wouldn’t know since I wasn’t invited to your wedding-“

“Do you want a higher allowance? I’ll tell father-“

“Does hearing my voice pain you so much?”

Silence.

“Do I disgust you, Noona?” He asks smoothly although his jaw is clenched so hard it’s starting to hurt.

“I’m not your Noona. Not anymore.”

Jungkook grits his teeth, feeling white-hot anger sear in his chest.

“Do you miss me?”

More silence.

“Goodbye, Jungkook. Don’t call again. I won’t answer.”

The line goes dead.

 Jungkook wastes no time in flinging his phone across the apartment, watching it shatter into pieces against his bedroom wall. He lays in bed, chest heaving and mind racing, anger consuming him. He clenches and unclenches his fists, body starting to sweat as he comes down from the drugs in his system, hormones heavily imbalanced by the chemicals.

“Fuck!” He shouts, voice booming across the empty space of his apartment.

He’s so angry that he feels little spots dotting his vision, the bitterness simmering in his veins. It’d been months since he’d tried, surely there should be some difference-

“Fucking idiot, running after those fuckers-“ He breathes out, berating himself. He runs his hands through his hair, nails digging into his scalp. His eyes are blown wide, pitch black, and pupils mere pinpricks in his eyes.

He looks demonic, like the very blood that flows through his veins is plagued by sin, reminiscent of the devil himself.

Jungkook lays in bed till he manages to calm down, the vivid images flowing through his mind finally ceasing. He knocks out after, waking up a few hours later to begin his day.

-

Today’s a day like no other.

Jimin still goes to work, steps out for lunch and leaves at the correct time like clockwork. He takes a bus to Jungkook’s neighborhood for a private lesson, bowing gratefully to the parents when he’s handed his pay in a pretty envelope.

Jimin’s walking is a little more upbeat, probably because today was payday. His duffel bag swings cutely on his shoulder, pink hair bouncing with every step. Jungkook follows, as usual, his black hoodie and jeans melding with the greys of the buildings around them.

It’s way past nighttime now, the area around them dark and sparsely lit with street lights, some of them flickering on the dirty grey of the sidewalk. The roads are empty as usual, barely one or two cars driving by. The moon hangs heavy in the sky, her presence imposing and almost rueful.

Jimin’s so caught up in his world that he doesn’t notice the other man that’s following him, footsteps increasing in pace. Jungkook does, watching from across the street.

The other man walks carefully, quietly, rapidly approaching Jimin from behind. His angel remains in his own world and Jungkook would berate him if he wasn’t so hopelessly in love. Jimin could do no wrong in his eyes. Even if he’s quick to interact with strangers with obsessive tendencies and destructive streaks, he lacks any sort of self-awareness or care for himself.

The man approaches rapidly, barely inches from Jimin now.

Jungkook watches as the man sinks his disgusting, unworthy fingers into Jimin’s sweet hair, throwing him against the rough wall of a building. Jimin buckles instantly, a scream leaving his lips. He makes a feeble attempt to escape, pushing at the man’s chest and kicking wildly.

With what little he eats, it’s no wonder he doesn’t have the strength to fend off his attacker.

“Get off me-“

“Give me your money, NOW!” The man shouts, pulling out a knife from his pocket. It’s small and he’s clearly inexperienced, Jungkook noticing his hand shaking as he points it threateningly in Jimin’s direction. The smaller man drops to the ground, face paling at the sight of the blade.

Jimin’s hands shake as they try to unzip his bag, crouching on the floor. The other man jabs the knife in his direction to scare him. It works.

“Hurry up bitch, or I’ll slice that pretty face of yours into ribbons.”

Seemingly endless tears stream down Jimin’s soft cheeks, hands trembling as they reach into the duffel bag, pulling out the little envelope he received today. The other man snatches it.

Neither of them hears Jungkook approach.

He swings an arm around the attacker’s throat from behind, squeezing and blocking his airways. Jimin watches wide-eyed as the other man immediately starts to choke, his arms and legs flailing around wildly as he struggles to get out of Jungkook’s death grip. The knife in his hand manages to nick Jungkook a few times in his thigh but he pays it no mind, eyes hard and burning.

He has half a mind to cut off his fingers that had the audacity to touch what’s his, strangle him till he turns blue-

The attacker soon drops the envelope along with the knife, not enough oxygen in his brain to sustain his grip on them.

“Take them, hurry,” Jungkook instructs Jimin, watching as his love scrambles to grab the money, shoving it into his bag. He picks up the knife with trembling fingers, looking at Jungkook with wide eyes.

“W-What do I do-“

“Nothing, beautiful. I’ll handle it,” Jungkook says before releasing his grip on the man. He falls to his knees pathetically and Jungkook is quick to walk in front to face him, grabbing his hair like he did Jimin’s.

The other man is still spluttering, face purple. Jungkook looks to Jimin, heart beating wildly at having those beautiful eyes on him. They’re still starry with tears, the knife looking so out of place in his possession.

“Eyes on me, sweetheart. I need you to pay attention,” Jungkook says, endeared at the way Jimin nods shakily, still frightened out of his wits.

“This is what you do when people mess with you,” He says before pulling back his arm and swinging hard, fist colliding heavily with the other man’s jaw. There’s a sick crunch. It’s like music to his ears.

Jungkook grins like a madman, high off of cocaine that he’s crossed with some percs, before pulling back his arm and punching him across the face again. The wounds on his thighs hurt like a bitch, but he doesn’t care. This time, a tooth flies out of the other man’s mouth, some blood splattering onto the sidewalk. Jungkook chuckles.

"You'll k-kill him-" Jimin starts.

"No, I won't," Jungkook responds smoothly.

He punches him three more times, each one harder than the last, Jimin whimpering with fear at every dull thump. When Jungkook releases his grip on the other man’s hair, he falls to the ground pathetically.

He’s out cold. Jungkook gives him a light kick to the belly, the other man unresponsive. He chuckles once more, his knuckles raw and red.

When Jungkook looks up, Jimin is shaking. His eyes are blown wide with fear, tears streaming steadily down his cheeks. The knife in his hands clatters to the pavement. Jungkook softens a little.

“You’re safe now. Go home,” Jungkook says, the adrenaline from the altercation coursing through him at an alarming pace. Jimin just stares, his lower lip trembling with fear.

He turns to leave but freezes in place when he feels a small hand clasp around his wrist. The contact burns and Jungkook turns around, eyebrow raised-

Exactly like he predicted.

“You’re h-hurt,” Jimin says, gesturing to his thighs, the blood from the wounds having soaked through the fabric of his jeans.

“It’s not a big deal,” Jungkook says. It’s true. He's dealt with worse. He’d go to Yoongi’s to get it taken care of. A hospital is out of the question.

“I h-have supplies at home, I can p-patch you up,” Jimin says, looking at Jungkook desperately.

Jungkook wants to laugh. Is he not afraid? Jungkook just beat someone within an inch of their life in front of him. He’s a complete and total stranger. Perhaps he’s afraid that something else might happen and wants Jungkook to be with him. Jimin takes his silence as a cue to continue.

“P-Please, it’s the least I can do,” He insists and it registers in Jungkook’s mind that Jimin doesn’t recognize him. He doesn’t remember him. But that’s alright.

Fate brings things to him.

It’s up to him whether he takes.

“Sure,” Jungkook responds.

Chapter Text

You're the sun, you've never seen the night

Playlist

If you asked Jungkook to describe his favorite memory, he would narrate one Tuesday afternoon after school, 6 years ago.

He’d just failed a test, one that he didn’t have the time to prepare for due to his desperation to seamlessly integrate himself into the family business, go through reports and show his father that he was every bit as good as his older brother. It wasn’t true, but he wanted to prove a point.

Taehyung had snagged himself a perfect score. It had gotten underneath Jungkook’s skin a little, but he decided not to think about it too much. After all, Taehyung has the brains but no money. Money is everything.

Jungkook stepped out of the car once he arrived home, the door held open by his chauffeur. He walked up the stairs to the large doors of the entrance, walking straight past the reception room and up the marble stairwell.

“Jungkook,” His brother’s wife's voice sounded out. 

He stopped, turning around to face her.

“Father wants to speak with you. He’s waiting in the study,” She said, a lilt to her voice that was usually put on whenever she spoke to him. He despised her, despised the way she pretended to care – only to act like he didn’t exist when his brother was around.

“What about?” He asked, wanting nothing more than to head upstairs to his room and isolate himself, maybe play some video games later when he would feel up to it. He wasn’t in the mood to hear the standard comparison between himself and Taehyung, his family being extremely fond of the other boy. A self-made boy with strong character, his father called him.

“I’m not sure. He didn’t say,” She responded. Useless.

Jungkook turned around with a sigh that fully embodied the dreariness of being a privileged teenager, starting to walk down the stairs and straight past his sister-in-law.

He kept walking till he arrived at the large white doors of his father’s study – the artisanal wood intricately carved and embellished with gold. The whole estate is so unlike those of their neighbors, built in the style of the French. It’s all fine white marble and tall doors and windows, looking out into lush lawns and carefully-trimmed flower gardens. Everything is delicate and tasteful. Jungkook has always hated it.

“Come in.” His father’s voice sounded out once he knocked against the smooth wood. Jungkook wasted no time in opening the door and heading straight in. He never liked prolonging these things.

“You asked to see me,” Jungkook said, getting straight to the point.

“I did. Sit,” His father said, aura imposing as he sat in his large chair, a pen in his hand. It was an ink pen. Despite the now frequent use of laptops or computers, his father liked to use pens, the traditional ones that need to be refilled with a pot of ink. Jungkook had a phase where he would collect them, eager to have something in common with his father. It was safe to say that he’d grown out of that phase, having found interests elsewhere.

“How was school today?” His father asked. Jungkook shrugged.

“I failed my test.”

His father didn’t blink, still staring at him blank-faced. Jungkook couldn’t tell whether he already knew or not.

“Which subject?”

“Business.”

His father laughed, setting down his pen. Jungkook just stared, expecting to either be hit or told to leave. What would have been apprehensiveness, an inherent fear was now indifference. He simply did not care anymore. Jungkook was glad that the blazer sleeves of his uniform hung low enough to hide the scars of a hasty syringe. His eyes were dead, pools of mellow.

“Well, I suppose the world works in funny ways. On one hand, I am offering you a headstart and on the other, you fail the very subject I’m going to test you on.”

“I don’t understand.”

His father looked at him, a glint in his eye.

“I’m giving you the opportunity to inherit the business.”

Jungkook felt a spark of something in his belly at his words, ears perking up. He looked up at his father, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s only fair that I give all my children a fair chance. Your sister isn’t interested in leading. You, on the other hand, are cunning – something you’ve gotten from your mother. You’d do well up there.”

Jungkook could already see it – him in five years, maybe less, seated like a king in the CEO’s office of his family’s real estate firm, one of the biggest in the country. He could see the way his brother would fetch things for him like a servant, the vermin under his feet. Taehyung would be in awe, aware of his place. Jungkook would be above everybody, where he belonged.

He could almost taste it, the mere thought of it euphoric.

“You’ll come with me and your Hyung to the office and I’ll hand over some projects to you. Help you grow, see if you’re destined to lead.”

“Is Hyung not good enough?”

“On the contrary. He’s everything I wish for in a son. Taehyung reminds me of him, that’s why I’m so fond of the boy,” His father said, making Jungkook’s jaw clench. “There’s something dangerous about you, Jungkook. You are driven and stubborn. In a world like this, that quality of yours could turn into a golden ticket.”

“I suppose.”

“Is this something you’d like, Jungkook?”

“Yes, father,” He responded immediately. His blood was racing with determination, his mind filled with nothing but ambition and dreams so unlike others his age. He wanted it so bad he could taste it – money, power, success. He already had it all, everything a child could ask for, but he needed to be on top. Always on top, able to control.

Somehow, the high he felt that day pales in comparison to what he’s feeling right now as Jimin sits at his feet, dabbing the wounds on his thighs with disinfectant. It stings, but Jungkook is more preoccupied with watching the way the soft glow from the lamp in Jimin’s quaint living room reflects on his features.

“I’m sorry, it must hurt,” Jimin says softly, a small hand unknowingly placed on Jungkook’s knee. The contact burns. Jungkook’s pants are on the floor, Jimin having insisted that he’ll buy him a new pair now that this one is torn and stained with blood.

Jungkook stares at him from where he’s seated on the sofa, the entire apartment laced with a scent that makes him dizzy. It’s something soft and heady yet somehow sweet at the same time, something that’s so undeniably Jimin. He wants to bury his nose into his neck, bite at the skin there to know if he tastes like this too. It’s maddening.

“It’s fine,” Jungkook responds. Being in Jimin’s apartment is a little disorienting, Jungkook only having seen it from three floors below and across the street. He observes the warm colours and soft lights, lots of pastel colours, and little knick-knacks. He looks at the karaoke machine that Jimin must’ve splurged on as a treat for himself. The small kitchen is bare.

Jungkook watches as Jimin meticulously treats his wounds, pink hair still a little dishevelled from the altercation – the pout of his lips as he focuses, the way he’s crouched so cutely on the floor, so so unaware of what he’s let into his home.

“You have a lot of medical supplies,” Jungkook comments, noticing the fully stocked first-aid kit. Jimin smiles a little, lifting his own bandaged foot for Jungkook to see.

“I’m a dancer. I have to bandage myself up almost daily.”

Objectively, Jimin’s feet aren’t pretty like the rest of him. They’re bruised purple in some places, skin raw and red, small toes shaped a little strangely. So unlike the smooth porcelain of the rest of him.

Still, Jungkook thinks that Jimin’s feet are the most beautiful he’s ever seen. He wishes he could hold one of his delicate ankles, drop kisses all over the damaged skin, soothe his wounds, lave his tongue over the reddened skin. Jungkook looks at the pointe shoes he sees hanging out Jimin’s duffel bag discarded on the floor, the sole cause of Jimin’s injuries.

Destruction only at my hands

“Is it worth it?” Jungkook asks, watching as Jimin spans the bandages across his thighs so that he can wrap the wounds properly.

Jimin pauses, looking up at him. The direct eye contact makes his heart beat faster, Jungkook wanting nothing more than to fist his hand into his soft hair and yank him up for a bruising kiss. He doesn’t though, instead waiting for Jimin to respond.

“Yes, it is. I’m happiest when I’m dancing,” Jimin answers. “Everything has a price,” He continues, carefully securing Jungkook’s bandages. He nods, still watching Jimin.

Jungkook looks at the other man, falling into how hopelessly in love he is. He wants to bite at the soft of his cheeks, run his hands over his skin, make a home here for the both of them where nobody can disturb. To have Jimin’s attention on him, the other man needing him for safety, it’s all Jungkook could ever ask for. 

“You looked like you’d done that before. Hurt somebody,” Jimin says, voice soft.

“I have. But only in defence,” Jungkook responds, the lie rolling smoothly off his tongue. He once broke someone’s jaw in school for looking at him strangely when he was pent up.

 “Ah, t-that’s good I suppose,” Jimin responds sheepishly. He’s calmed down considerably. When he had helped Jungkook upstairs – he hadn’t really needed the help, just relished the feeling of Jimin’s body next to his – he was still trembling a little, holding on to him desperately. Perhaps the routine of nursing wounds helped settle his mind.

“Did I scare you?” Jungkook asks.

Jimin looks up, cheeks now glowing red.

“A little,” He responds.

“And you still invited me to your home?” Jungkook asks, amazed at how easily everything fell into place. All it took was a deadbeat loser to have Jimin clinging to him like his last lifeline.

Jimin looks a little unnerved at his words.

“You didn’t seem d-dangerous to me and you w-were hurt, I had to-“

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m only teasing,” Jungkook says, watching as Jimin’s ears go red at the endearment. The smaller man looks shy, eyes trained on the bandages, unable to meet his.

“Am I flustering you?” Jungkook asks, fond.

“No,” Jimin responds unconvincingly, his lower lip caught under his front tooth. Now that Jungkook is subject to his beauty up close, he notices that it’s a little crooked. Once again, he’s amazed by the way he feels so strongly for him. It’s all so alien - Jungkook not used to caring for anyone other than himself.

The moment is broken when Jimin stands up, having completed his task of dressing Jungkook’s wounds.

“You’re all patched up. Would you like something to drink? Tea?”

“Sure,” Jungkook responds. Jimin smiles, possibly relieved at the break in the tension. He walks to the small kitchen, starting to brew some tea in a pretty ceramic turquoise pot.

“You should be more careful at this time of the night. Take a taxi if you must,” Jungkook says, relishing the way Jimin jumps at the sudden words, fingers gripping the counter. The back of his neck is pretty pink and Jungkook wonders how far down the blush goes. He eyes the soft swell of his ass, more prominent as he leans over the counter.

“Yes, I know. Nothing like that has ever happened before,” Jimin responds quietly.

“It only needs to happen once.”

Jimin pauses, fingers drumming on his bare countertop. “I’m sorry. You’re right,” He murmurs, sounding almost guilty. The apology is odd. He owes Jungkook nothing.

There’s silence for the rest of the time Jimin takes to brew their pot of tea and watching him is something that comes naturally to Jungkook, after all. It’s absolutely silent, no sounds of traffic outside or common chatter. No sign of any neighbours. Just him and Jimin, the other man standing small a few feet away from him. He’s still dressed in his work clothes – a t-shirt and leggings. What a shame.

Jimin eventually returns, setting down the pretty pot of tea onto the little table he has along with two matching teacups. It’s all so much like him. Jungkook wonders if Jimin plays dollhouse, having little tea parties with his imaginary friends when he’s lonely.

“Can I…ask you something?” Jimin asks as he hands Jungkook his teacup. He takes it, eyeing the way Jimin sits down onto the carpet.

“Of course,” Jungkook answers.

“Why did you save me, put yourself at risk?” Jimin inquires, sounding almost guilty. He eyes Jungkook’s wounds, some of his blood already blotting the clean white of the bandages.

Jungkook thought it would be something else, something that wouldn’t be as easy to answer. Like why he was in Jimin’s area in the first place.

“I had to,”

“Why?” Jimin asks quietly, sounding vulnerable and a little confused.

There it is, Jungkook thinks. The gaping insecurity, the apprehensiveness at the mere thought of being worth saving, risking discomfort for. He’s easier than Jungkook thought he would be.

“As pretty as your tears are, I’d rather see you without them,” Jungkook responds, effectively pulling his strings. He gets the desired effect.

Jimin inhales sharply, eyes going wide. A furious blush blooms on his soft cheeks. Jungkook wants to bite. The smaller man doesn’t say anything, sipping his tea with reddened fingers. He holds the teacup with both of his hands, sleeves coming up to cover them. It’s almost cathartic to see how just a few carefully selected words can make Jimin melt like butter.

“What’s your name? I forgot to ask,” Jimin asks, setting down his teacup.

“Jungkook,” He answers. “And yours?”

“Park Jimin.”

“Clever, sharp. It’s a nice name.”

“Do you always hit on the people you rescue?” Jimin asks, voice a little teasing. There’s a small smile pulling at his lips. His cheeks are still pink.

“Only when they’re as gorgeous as you are.”

“Stop it!” Jimin complains shyly, small hands coming up to cover his face. Jungkook stares, amused. His eyes catch the time on the clock hung on the wall, noticing the late hour.

“I should probably leave. You need to rest,” Jungkook says, standing up. He makes to pick up his pants from the floor, stopping when Jimin clasps a hand around his wrist. Jungkook looks at the size difference, eyes dark.

“You can’t wear those, I think Hoseok left some clothes behind the last time he was here, let me just look-“ Jimin says, skipping off to the bedroom.

Hoseok.

That must be the man who’s managed to make a content home in Jimin’s life. The one who sees all of Jimin’s happy smiles up close, feels the soft skin of his neck, the dimples at the back of his spine.

Oh no, that won’t do.

Jimin eventually returns with a loose pair of sweatpants, a dark olive green. Jungkook hates it.

“I would give you something of mine, but I’m not sure I have anything that would fit you,” Jimin says almost apologetically, observing Jungkook’s large frame.

Jungkook doesn’t really need the help Jimin offers to get the pants on but relishes it anyway, taking full advantage of getting to hold his delicate waist for ‘support.’ He’s pretty sure the smaller man would topple over if he put even an ounce of his weight on him. He digs his fingers into the taut skin of his abdomen, evidence of strenuous exercise, hoping that his grip will leave marks. If the pressure is uncomfortable, Jimin doesn’t mention it.

“I’ve called you a taxi. About your clothes, I’ll either try to patch them up myself or I’ll buy you something new.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Jungkook says, eager for there to be something of his in Jimin’s apartment.

“I want to. If you don’t mind, could you please give me your number? I’ll message you when I have it ready,” Jimin says, cheeks flushing further as the words leave his mouth. He hands his phone to Jungkook, their fingers brushing as he takes the device from him.

Jungkook wishes that he could still time so that he could go through Jimin’s phone, look at his pictures, get a deeper glimpse of his life that he hasn’t already seen. Jimin is his, there can’t be any secrets between them.

He enters his number swiftly, handing the phone back to Jimin who takes it with both hands, bowing as he does.

Jungkook’s taxi arrives a few minutes later, Jimin helping him down the stairs and into the car. Jungkook’s arm is around his waist again, feeling the soft dip of it. When he’s settled in the seat, Jimin speaks, his small hand holding the door open.

“Get home safe. Thank you so much, once again.”

“Don’t mention it. Sleep well.”

“You too,” Jimin says softly, pressing his door shut. Even that simple action is gentle, delicate. Jungkook takes one final look at him as the taxi speeds away, noticing the way Jimin waits till he disappears down the road.

The roots are in place, hook sunk in.

-

Jungkook dreams of Jimin each night, most of his thoughts impure to say the least.

All he can see is the image of Jimin’s eyes on him, burned into the back of his mind. The drugs, as they did in the past, usually served to dampen his libido but Jimin brings it right back up. Just the thought of him has his blood pumping, an itch making itself known deep within him.

He lets his fantasies run astray – imagines Jimin’s soft hair in his clutches as he pulls him on and off his cock, the image of the thick head resting against those pouty lips driving him insane. He imagines those eyes glistening with tears, legs spread wide open, thighs marred with hickeys and imprints of his fingers.

Still, he never jerks himself off. He’d much rather wait for the real thing, now that it’s on the way.

His wounds heal fast, they always do. It was difficult removing the bandages Jimin had put so carefully for him.

It seems that Jimin hasn’t forgotten about him either.

He hasn’t messaged him, not yet. But Jungkook has watched as Jimin visits clothing stores in his free time, trying to find a new set of pants that look exactly like he is. He watches as his friends sometimes accompany him. The brands he visits are way out of what Jungkook believes is Jimin’s budget.

The days go by and true to his word, Jimin often takes a taxi back home if it gets too dark. Jungkook is happy with his obedience. He takes pleasure in knowing that Jimin is a good listener. It’ll make everything much easier.

Jimin goes to and from work, still teaching his classes in between and Jungkook follows each time. He wonders if Jimin truly is clueless – unable to feel the constant set of eyes on him. His social media updates are the same, more cute selfies, pictures of his insubstantial meals and those with his friends.

Hoseok is the one Jungkook suspected he would be. Jungkook visited his profile. He’s a choreographer, but not for ballet – having a few popular music videos under his belt. Jungkook hates him, wishes he could punch that seemingly permanent smile off his face. But he knows he’ll win. Jimin would’ve bitten by now if he was interested in the other man.

Jungkook has his friends over when he receives the message.

26.10.20 11:35 pm : Unknown Number : Hello, Jungkook-ssi.

26.10.20 11:35 pm : Unknown Number : This is Jimin, I hope you remember me.

26.10.20 11:36 pm : Unknown Number : I’m the one you rescued. Pink hair.

Jungkook stares at the message, grip hard on the phone. How could he forget? Jimin should be asleep right now. He nods absently at something Namjoon says, typing out a response.

26.10.20 11:37 pm : Me : Of course I remember you.

26.10.20 11:37 pm : Me : How are you?

Jungkook takes a heavy drag of the joint in his hand, fingers toying with it. His eyes are red, posture relaxed as he sits back on his couch. There’s some baseball game playing, Namjoon wanting to watch it on Jungkook’s large TV. He’s a little glad that they came over, happy to have been forced to clean up a little. Around two months of stale half-empty alcohol bottles, cigarette butts and takeout boxes now lie in three full garbage bags outside his front door. It’s pointless. He knows it’ll build up soon once more.

Just as the doorbell rings, indicating that the food Yoongi ordered has arrived, his phone buzzes.

26.10.20 11:38 pm : My Jimin : I’m doing fine…how about you? I hope your wounds healed well.

26.10.20 11:39 pm : My Jimin : I thought to message you sooner but work has been busy. I’m sorry about that.

It’s true. Jimin has been practicing more and more lately. Jungkook preys on the knowledge that he was on Jimin’s mind.

26.10.20 11:39 pm : Me : Don’t worry about it. You took good care of me.

26.10.20 11:40 pm : My Jimin : Ah, that’s good to hear.

26.10.20 11:40 pm : My Jimin : I just wanted to let you know that I’ve bought you a new pair of pants. I also tried to patch up your old ones. I’m not much of a seamstress, I’m afraid.

Jungkook smiles. This goes noticed by Taehyung, who is confused.

“Why are you smiling like an idiot?” He asks. Both Yoongi and Namjoon look at him too, the former walking in with the boxes of food. Jungkook looks up, face blank once more.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Before he realizes it, Taehyung has snatched the phone out of his hands. Jungkook’s blood boils.

“Jimin? Your Jimin? Who the fuck is this?” Taehyung laughs, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face as he reads their messages with greedy eyes.

“Give it back before I slit your throat,” Jungkook grits out, words serious.

“Oh, he’s still typing!” Taehyung cheers, standing up and walking further away so Jungkook can’t get to him where he sits on the couch. The weed has made his limbs sluggish, making Jungkook take a little while longer to react.

“Oooh, he wants to meet you tomorrow!” Taehyung exclaims. “Is tomorrow evening convenient for you, Jungkookie? ” He mocks in a fake high-pitched voice. Jungkook stalks over to him, snatching the phone back.

“Try that again and I’ll kill you,” He seethes, patience at its limit. He feels his fingers shake with anger, the unmistakable itch of the cocaine in his system rising to the surface. It’s always harder for him to control his temper when he’s high, least of all when he’s cross-faded. Had Taehyung kept reading, he would’ve broken his jaw with little regret.

Jungkook sits back down on the sofa, the silence of the others palpable in the air. He looks at Jimin’s new messages.

26.10.20 11:42 pm : My Jimin : Would you like to meet so that I can give them to you?

26.10.20 11:42 pm : My Jimin : I can meet you wherever it’s convenient for you. Does tomorrow evening work?

The gears are turning in his head, a sense of satisfaction falling over him. He images Jimin curled up on his sofa as he types out these messages, small fingers hesitating, thighs on display – all for him to bite and mark.

26.10.20 11:49 pm : Me : Sure, sweetheart. I’ll make time for you.

Jimin takes a short while to respond, the bubble indicating that he’s typing popping on and off the screen. Jungkook imagines his flustered face.

26.10.20 11:51 pm : My Jimin : Great!

26.10.20 11:51 pm : My Jimin : Where would you like to meet? I can come to wherever you are.

26.10.20 11:52 pm : Me : I’d rather come to you.

Another short while.

26.10.20 11:55 pm : My Jimin : Okay, that’s fine too!

26.10.20 11:55 pm : My Jimin : Here is my work address.

26.10.20 11:55 pm : My Jimin : [Address]

26.10.20 11:56 pm : My Jimin : I finish work at 4 pm, so I’ll see you then.

26.10.20 11:56 pm : Me : I’m looking forward to it.

26.10.20  11:57 pm : My Jimin : Me too.

26.10.20 11:57 pm : My Jimin : I’m sorry but I’m a little sleepy now. I’ll see you tomorrow?

Jungkook images Jimin yawning, a little sweater paw coming up to cover his mouth.

26.10.20 11:58 pm : Me : Sure.

26.10.20 11:59 pm : My Jimin : Good night, Jungkook!

27.10.20 12:00 am : Me : Sweet dreams.

Jimin’s typing bubble pops up on and off for a few seconds more before it stops, effectively marking the end of their conversation.

When Jungkook sets down his phone, a sense of accomplishment coursing through his veins, he looks up to see the others looking at him oddly. He concedes.

“He’s a friend,” Jungkook says.

“A friend,” Namjoon repeats disbelievingly, a forkful of food on the way to his mouth. The baseball game roars on in the background.

“Yeah.”

“How’d you meet him?” Taehyung asks, curious.

“He was about to get mugged. I stepped in.”

Everybody’s eyes widen.

“That’s hot,” Taehyung comments, not too perturbed by the venom with which Jungkook spoke to him earlier. He’s always been immune to Jungkook’s behaviour. That’s part of the reason he’s stuck around for so long.

“Wait, you stepped in to help somebody?” Namjoon interjects. 

“You act like the mere idea of me doing anything that isn’t selfish is impossible.”

Silence.

“Let’s get back to the game,” Yoongi says, effectively ending the conversation. He gives Jungkook a pointed look.

The evening passes by although not much of it registers in Jungkook’s mind. All he can think about is how he’ll be meeting Jimin tomorrow, be able to interact with him, fluster him more so that his skin flushes that delicious pink.

He makes some plans with the others to visit some new skatepark the following weekend, Namjoon leaving early to spend the night with his girlfriend. Taehyung and Yoongi stick around for longer, till around 2 in the morning.

“Yoons, you want a ride?” Taehyung asks, throwing his keys up in the air and catching them with his long fingers. He loves his car.

“No, I’m good. You go ahead,” Yoongi says, making Jungkook raise an eyebrow.

Taehyung nods, giving the both of them chaste kisses on the forehead as a goodbye before leaving, shutting the door behind him. Jungkook stands up to get himself a beer, walking over to the fridge.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Yoongi asks. Jungkook pauses, beer in his hand.

“What?”

“You’re fucking high off your ass. And what’s up with Jimin, huh?”

“He’s a friend.”

“You and I both know that that isn’t true. I don’t know what you’re up to…” Yoongi says, sounding exasperated.

“What do you mean?”

“I know how obsessive you can get, destructive. Do you really think that it’s a good time for a relationship right now?”

Jungkook sighs, frustrated. “So I’m not supposed to be happy.”

“That’s not what I’m saying. I just don’t want you to hurt somebody.”

“I’m not abusive, Hyung.”

Yoongi stares at him, face blank.

“Not yet,” He says.

Jungkook clenches his jaw. Perhaps Yoongi is right. Jungkook has always been a destructive person but with Jimin, it’s different – different in the sense that he would never want to put him in harm’s way, keep him a safe distance away from the rest of this dark world. Jungkook would protect him, give Jimin everything he could ever need.

Yoongi wouldn’t understand. Perhaps Jimin won’t either. Not at first.

Everything requires effort. Persistent, calculated effort.  It’s what his father had told him, after all. The recipe for success.

Jimin is his, after all. It’s only natural that he’ll submit sooner rather than later.

-

The next day is interesting, to say the least.

Jungkook puts a little more effort into his appearance – choosing one of his less-worn t-shirts (you wouldn’t think he has billions of won in the bank account) and picking up one of his better jackets, a smooth leather one he’d bought himself on a family holiday abroad.

Still, it’s nothing compared to Jimin.

He watches as Jimin enters work, clad in his usual ensemble of a t-shirt and leggings, soft hair a fluffy mop of cotton candy on his head. When he emerges at 4 pm, Jungkook expects to see him in the standard light hoodie and sweatpants, semi-dry hair and bare face almost glowing in the late-afternoon sun. Jimin usually likes dressing in loose, comfortable clothes on his way back from work, a sharp contrast to the tight clothing he must wear during practice. He wears slippers, feet open and unrestricted.

Today, however, there’s a significant difference.

Jimin has dressed up. He emerges a little late, at around 4:20 pm but Jungkook can tell why. His hair is styled, lithe body tucked into black skinny jeans and a pretty white knitted sweater. He has some makeup on, plump lips slick with a peach tint and eyes slightly defined. He’s dressed like he’s going out on a little date.

Jungkook watches with dark eyes as Jimin stands on the sidewalk, plucking his phone from the back pocket of his skin-tight jeans that leave nothing to the imagination. The knowledge that Jimin has dressed up for him makes him feel a sort of unparalleled satisfaction.

His phone buzzes in his pocket.

27.10.20 4:27 pm : My Jimin : Hi Jungkook! I just got done with work.

27.10.20 4:27 pm : My Jimin : Where are you?

Jungkook huffs out a short laugh, looking up at Jimin who is scanning the area, shifting on his boot-clad feet. A large pink paper bag is clutched within the fingers of his other hand, presumably with Jungkook’s new pants.

27.10.20 4:30 pm : Me : Hi. I’m on my way, don’t worry.

Jungkook watches as Jimin jumps when his phone vibrates, quickly opening up the message. Why is he so nervous? Jimin is quick to type out another, unconsciously patting his hair to ensure that it’s in shape.

27.10.20 4:31 pm : My Jimin : Sure, of course! I’m waiting for you.

Of course you are , Jungkook thinks.

He walks toward him from where he was waiting down the street, not wanting to emerge from his usual hideout of the café across the street. Jungkook takes slow, casual steps, smirk increasing as he draws closer to Jimin.

When the other man eventually spots him, a slight tilt of his head to face him – Jungkook’s breath catches.

Jimin is so irrevocably, heart-wrenchingly beautiful. It’s not just his appearance, no, it’s the innocence that’s in his eyes, the vulnerability that flickers across his ethereal features once he notices Jungkook. It’s in the way he’s standing up straight, possibly from nerves, small chubby fingers pink where they grasp each other and the handles of the bag. 

Jungkook never stood a chance.

“Hi,” Jimin says, a slight blush on his cheeks. 

“Hey,” Jungkook responds, coming to a stop before him. He notices the way he absolutely towers over the smaller man, feeling giddy at the way Jimin has to tilt his head up slightly to talk to him.

He looks at Jimin’s pretty made-up face, wondering how his carefully-applied lip tint would look smeared across his lips. He resists the urge to reach out a thumb and see it, make the art himself.

Jungkook notices the way that Jimin is staring at him too, eyes trying to subtly glance over his shoulders and rest of his physique, cheeks flushing further once his vision scans over his tattoos. 

He clears his throat, making Jimin jump.

“O-Oh, um, sorry, I have your pants right here. I hope you like them. I c-can exchange them if you don’t. I also fixed your pants, I tried my best, really, I washed them too! I hope that you-“ He rambles.

“Jimin,” Jungkook interjects, voice smooth. He takes a step closer.

Jimin shuts up at that, looking up at him with wide eyes.  He seems embarrassed.

“I’ll be happy with whatever you give me,” Jungkook says politely, taking the bag gently from Jimin’s hands. His skin tingles at the contact, a burst of fondness flowing through him when he realizes that Jimin’s hands are a little sweaty. They go pliant, letting Jungkook take the bag from his clutches.

“O-Oh, okay,” Jimin says uselessly, still shifting on his feet. Jungkook finds it absolutely adorable, this behaviour – like this is Jimin’s first time talking to a crush. Perhaps it’s just Jimin’s first time talking to somebody like him.

But then again, there really is nobody like Jungkook.

There’s silence for a few seconds, Jungkook watching Jimin fondly. The other man tries not to squirm under the attention, his hands now playing with the hem of his sweater.

“You look beautiful. Going somewhere?” Jungkook asks, raising an eyebrow. Jimin seems to flush further at that.

“Thank you. I w-was actually wondering if you…”

“If I?” Jungkook suggests, already knowing where this is going.

“If y-you were free? I know a nice restaurant nearby if you’re hungry,” Jimin rushes out adorably, some of his syllables slurring in his hurry to get the sentence out.

Jungkook is still smiling.

“Only if you want to, of c-course. Please don’t feel pressured-“

“I’d love to. Did you dress up for me?” Jungkook asks. His confidence is unbarred – a life of rarely being denied anything having eradicated any sort of self-doubt in him. Jimin is so much fun to play with.

Jimin’s head snaps up at that, eyes wide.

“N-No,” He says unconvincingly. “I just showered after work.”

I’ve seen what you look like after work.

“I’m only teasing, sweetheart,” Jungkook says, watching greedily as Jimin seems to fluster more with each compliment. “Lead the way,” He says.

Jimin nods and they start walking, slowly. It’s a cool evening, the beginnings of winter. The air has a slight chill to it, the sky a gentle blue. Jimin’s Chelsea boots click against the sidewalk with each step.

“How was work today?” Jungkook asks, looking fondly at Jimin’s breathtaking side profile. The smooth slope of his button nose, the pout of his soft lips.

“It was tiring. I have a showcase coming up in a few months,” Jimin answers. “I-uh, have my own segment. I got selected,” He admits later, smiling sheepishly. Jungkook imagines it, Jimin soaring across the stage, leaving trails of stardust behind him.

He’d follow like a lovesick fool.

“Congratulations. I’m sure you deserve it,” Jungkook commends, wanting to pull Jimin in, breathe in that sweet perfume of his. He smells like lilacs, the ones in the garden of his family home. Slow steps.

“Thank you,” Jimin answers shyly. “I worked really hard for it so I’m happy.”

“Have you always liked to dance?” Jungkook asks, curious. Jimin is silent for a few seconds.

“I’ve always danced, ever since I was a child. I started going to classes really young, followed that strict lifestyle. Before I realized it, ballet became my life.”

Jungkook hums, noting the way that Jimin didn’t really answer the question. He can’t imagine being forced into such a disciplined lifestyle at such a young age. Jungkook has never been deprived of anything. Everything he’s wanted has always been within arm’s reach.

“What about you? What do you do?” Jimin asks.

Nothing

“I used to be in real estate. Jeon Realty,” He answers vaguely.

“Wow,” Jimin responds, raising his eyebrows. Jungkook’s family owns a large number of properties across South Korea. It’s almost a household name.

“I think I lived in one of their buildings when I was growing up,” Jimin says, thinking.

“Jimin, my name is Jeon Jungkook.”

“Oh,” Jimin answers. “Your building, then. It was nice, lots of happy memories,” He says, stifling a laugh. It’s a short sound but so sweet that it makes Jungkook’s spin.

“Thank you,” He responds, the bitter edge of talking about his past mollified now that he’s made Jimin smile.

They eventually come to a stop outside a small Italian restaurant that looks way too cosy and romantic to be just a dinner for two friends. Jungkook follows behind the other man with a hand on the small of his back, closing his eyes to register the way his palm almost expanses the whole length of it. Jimin doesn’t pull away from the touch.

A server leads them to a little table in the corner, near some flowers. The restaurant is essentially a house that’s been repurposed to be a restaurant, the seating area in the garden. It’s all neatly trimmed grass and wrought-iron tables and chairs, some soft, sweet music playing in the background. There are dramatic candles on each table, some fairy lights strung along the flower hedges that make up the walls of it.

“I hope you like Italian food. It’s my treat,” Jimin says once they sit down, Jungkook’s fingers still itching from the loss of contact to Jimin’s back. He really is a drug, Jungkook entranced by every move of his.

“I love Italian,” Jungkook responds. There’s no way he’s letting Jimin pay. It won’t be long before he’s providing for both of them anyway.

Jimin is interested in him. He doesn’t know whether the smaller man has realized it yet, but his body language points to it. The way he’s almost coy in the way he speaks to him, unconsciously adjusting his appearance, a nervous undertone to his voice, those hazy, seductive eyes. Or maybe they’ve always been like that.

Jimin orders himself a Caprese salad, Jungkook opting for a red wine and beef risotto.

The romantic lighting of the restaurant makes everything Jimin does that much more ethereal. He’s sure that if he closes his eyes, he’ll hear a soft tune, something sweet. Everything about him is hypnotizing and Jungkook has never felt this way before, this desperate sort of hunger to have something. It rivals that of his ambitions when he was younger except this is certain. He knows he’ll have Jimin, if the way that the pretty little ballerino has practically run into his arms is any sign.

Jimin has been the one to initiate everything so far. He’s been the one to seek Jungkook out, make plans, continue the conversation as he does now. Jungkook wonders if he’s so quick to be smitten with others like this. Not that it matters. Jungkook will be the last.

“Are you a vegetarian?” Jungkook asks, noticing the way he’s never seen Jimin eat meat.

“No, not really. I let myself eat meat once in a while. It’s just better for my diet,” Jimin answers. Jungkook asks him more questions about his diet, Jimin happy to talk about it. Jungkook thinks that he would find anything Jimin would say interesting. He hangs off his every word, committing every syllable to memory.

“You need to be stronger to protect yourself. Meat could help,” Jungkook says.

“What I need to be is light. Weightless,” Jimin responds immediately. “If my weight exceeds what it is now, I’ll lose my art,” Jimin says.

“That’s not true,” Jungkook says. “But I suppose it’s alright.”

“Why?” Jimin asks, taking a sip of the red wine Jungkook ordered. He asked for a full bottle. He eyes the rim of the glass where there’s a slight imprint of Jimin’s lip tint.

“I can protect you,” Jungkook says, flexing his tattooed fingers. Jimin’s eyes travel to them briefly before looking back up at him. “I think we complement each other perfectly. I’m big where you’re small.”

Jimin’s breath hitches.

“Wouldn’t you agree, Jimin?” He says, with emphasis on his name. He keeps his tone light and friendly.

Jimin flushes furiously, a delicate wrist holding his glass of wine. “Y-Yes,” He says, looking a little relieved when their food arrives.

They delve into normal chatter after that, Jungkook thinking that it would be appropriate to give Jimin a break. He doesn’t want to scare him off. They talk about this and that, Jungkook steering away all questions directed toward him. He uses this to learn more about the smaller man, sink his claws in deeper.

Jimin loves karaoke. He doesn’t have much time for it but he loves it when he does. His guilty pleasure is ice cream. He once ate a whole tub of ice cream when someone else got chosen for the main stage and he didn’t. Jimin is an only child, although he’s close with his cousins. When he was younger, he thought that he could speak to plants but eventually grew out of it.

Jungkook listens with rapt attention, noticing the way Jimin’s plate of food lies untouched on the table. He’s halfway through his own meal while Jimin’s still remains artfully plated. When Jungkook asks him about it, he starts to pick at it, in a similar fashion as he does when Jungkook normally watches him eat.

“More wine?” Jungkook asks, gesturing to the bottle. Jimin nods, a little pink, pretty face flushed from the alcohol. He smiles easier as he talks now, little airy giggles coming out quicker and with abandon. Every little sound and mannerism imprints themselves into Jungkook’s mind, eyes following every single movement of his.

He feels depraved, like his patience is wearing thin. Jungkook knows that this is a waiting game – he must wait for Jimin to come to him. But he just looks so delectable, so kissable, sitting small in his soft sweater that’s too large for his frame, strands of pink hair moving slightly with the cool current of breeze. It’s exactly like how they describe it in the movies – if not more. Except, Jungkook can’t put down the magnitude of what he’s feeling into words or a script.

“So what d’you like to do for fun?” Jimin asks, finally, finally taking a bite out of the buffalo mozzarella. He’s been dodging them, opting for only the greens.

“I used to like sports. Still do, I think. I like to exercise.”

“I meant for fun. No one exercises for fun,” Jimin pouts, clearly tipsy.

“I exercise for fun,” Jungkook says. It’s true. He enjoys sweating out the toxins in his system. “Think about it, if I didn’t exercise, I wouldn’t have been able to protect you, right?”

“I s’pose you’re right. Exercise makes you strong. You’re strong. Very,” Jimin says so seriously that it’s almost comical. He takes another bite of his salad, lips pillowed around the soft cheese. 

“Do you like it? That I’m strong?” Jungkook asks.

Jimin doesn’t answer, instead taking a large sip of his wine with ruddy red cheeks that rival the softness and shape of the mozzarella. An absolute lightweight.

He sets the glass down.

“No more wine for me.”

“No more wine for you.” Jungkook agrees, playfully placing the bottle a little away from him. Jimin pouts.

“You’re like one of the people in the movies,” Jimin then says, now eating some of his greens. He takes dainty bites, still poised and proper even in his slightly-inebriated state.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re like one of those cool mysterious bad boys who drives a big dark bike and zooms off with a goody-two-shoes girl into the sunset and tricks her into losing her virginity.”

Jungkook hums, amused. “That depends.”

“On what?” Jimin asks, taking a sip of his freshly-poured glass of water. The waiter has been awfully attentive to him.

“Are you a virgin?”

Jimin looks up at him with wide eyes, reactions never disappointing. He’s so deliciously easy to fluster. Jungkook wants to streamline his thoughts, melt him like butter with kisses. Jimin looks like the type who’d get kiss-drunk.

“N-No,” Jimin says without any elaboration.

Jungkook hums, polishing off the last of his meal. “Guess I can’t trick you then.” While the thought of Jimin with someone else is enough to infuriate him, he guesses it can’t be helped. Jimin is so easy to corrupt. It’s no wonder that someone beat him to it.

Jimin is silent for the rest of the meal and Jungkook asks for the cheque, ignoring Jimin’s hopeless pleas to let it be his treat. “Next time,” Jungkook says and that’s enough for Jimin to go quiet once more.

They leave the restaurant soon after, both of them standing and looking at each other on the sidewalk. It’s oddly coy, like a shy couple just after a first date. Jungkook has the bag with Jimin’s gift in his hands.

“I’ll see you-“

“Let me drop you home,” Jungkook says without hesitation. Jimin smiles a little at that.

They manage to flag down a taxi, both of them shuffling into the backseat. Jimin sits cross-legged, pretty face perched on his hand as he looks out of the window, enjoying the drive. Jungkook sits next to him, watching. The ride is mostly silent except for when Jimin quietly tells the driver the specifics of the address.

The both of them get off at Jimin’s building, Jungkook indicating for the driver to wait.

Jimin’s coy attitude is back, shifting on his feet, one boot-clad foot grinding down onto the dull pavement. As usual, the area is deadly silent.

“Thank you for tonight. I had a wonderful time,” Jimin eventually says, giving Jungkook a dazzling smile that makes his heart skip a beat. His face is still flushed pink from the alcohol.

“Don’t mention it. I enjoyed it too. I should be thanking you for the new wardrobe,” Jungkook says, holding up the bag. Jimin smiles sheepishly.

“It really isn’t that great. I wouldn’t have high expectations if I were you.”

“I doubt that anything you’ve touched would be subpar.”

Jimin is silent for a few seconds.

“You keep doing that,” He says. Jungkook cocks an eyebrow.

“Hmm?”

“You keep flustering me, saying nice things.”

“Is it a problem?” Jungkook asks, looking at Jimin fondly.

Slowly, timidly, he shakes his head. It’s so adorable that Jungkook wishes that he could lean in and capture those soft lips with his own, fluster him some more.

“Good night Jimin. Sleep well,” Jungkook says, turning to head into the car.

“Wait-“

He stops, turning around. He can’t wait to hear this.

“W-Would you maybe want to hang out again sometime?” Jimin says it with a lot of effort, like he was psyching himself up for it for a while.

“I thought that was a given,” Jungkook says, flashing Jimin a warm smile that feels odd on his face. Jimin smiles back, looking a little relieved.

“Travel safe, Jungkook.”

“I will now that you’ve asked me to. Rest well, I’ll message you tomorrow.”

With that, Jungkook gets into the taxi and drives off, leaving a dazed Jimin on the sidewalk.

All that Jungkook can think about on his way back home is how this is all too good to be true. Jimin is clearly attracted to him. He also definitely has a strength kink and likes his tattoos, if the way he’s been staring at his fingers is any indication of it. He already has him in the palm of his hand. He just has to build him up, create a base so that he’ll stay there.

The first thing he does when he makes it back home is to look at what Jimin bought him. It’s a fairly expensive set of black jeans. His old ones are also in the bag, seemingly brand new. The last time he'd seen them, they were blotted with blood and ripped at several places, fabric rough and dry.

Now, they are soft to the touch and laced with a heady scent. The entire bag and its contents, all smell like Jimin. Jungkook presses the fabric to his nose and inhales like it’s the only oxygen he has left, feeling almost dizzy. Jimin smells sweet – like peaches and vanilla. Jungkook has always been sensitive to smells, or he used to be, but Jimin’s is the sweetest he’s ever come across.

Jungkook looks at the pants, eyeing the little patchwork Jimin has done. He trails his fingers over the thread, the shade of black not exactly the same as the rest of the fabric. It’s obvious that Jimin tried his best though. Jungkook eyes the little basic heart that’s been embroidered into the corner. He picks up his phone.

27.10.20 8:27 pm : Me : Just arrived home. You did a good job.

27.10.20 8:27 pm : Me : The heart is a cute touch.

27.10.20 8:30 pm : My Jimin : I’m glad. I wanted to express my gratitude. I guess my sewing skills haven’t left me after all.

27.10.20 8:30 pm : Me : They definitely haven’t.

27.10.20 8:31 pm : My Jimin : I had a lot of fun today. You’re quite interesting.

27.10.20 8:32 pm : Me : Interesting enough to be in a film, I suppose. Your words.

27.10.20 8:33 pm : My Jimin : You’d be perfect for it. You’re a poster boy for the delinquent persona.

27.10.20 8:34 pm : Me : I’d only do it if you were acting beside me.

27.10.20 8:46 pm : My Jimin : Good night, Jungkook.

27.10.20 8:47 pm : Me : Good night.

-

Jungkook gives it a few days before he messages Jimin.

The other man seems to wait, frequently checking his phone when he’s out at lunch or with his friends. Jungkook takes a special effort to maintain some distance, not wanting Jimin to notice him. Just a little while longer and he’ll be able to stop monitoring him. Jimin will have to learn how to behave.

Jungkook takes special pleasure in this – predicting and calculating his behavior, feeling almost god-like when Jimin reacts exactly the way he wants him to, exhibiting the behavior he’s pulled out of him through strings attached to his narrow back.

It’s clear that Jimin is an obvious romantic – falling for the savior, someone who contrasts him so well. He’s disciplined and graceful where Jungkook is not, pretty and soft where Jungkook is hard. He’s malleable.

Jimin is the type who finds it extremely difficult to not show his feelings explicitly. He’s terribly obvious about every little thing, as easy to read as a picture book. Jungkook thinks that Jimin would have made a wonderful character in a children’s book. A little fairy who lives underneath a toadstool, friends with all of the squirrels and bunnies and wears pretty dresses made of flower petals. He would dance, fairy dust glittering as he does, tinkling laughter making the birds sing.

Today, Jungkook went to the skate park as planned with the others. He had more fun than expected, it having been a while since he got out his skateboard. Taehyung had learned some new tricks and he’d slid effortlessly across the steep slopes and high cliffs in the skate park, earning a little audience. He beamed at the attention.

Jungkook is still a little rusty but he naturally flows back into it after a while, able to glide across the smooth concrete effortlessly. He skids to a stop at the end of the route, the street lights stark and bright against the grey surfaces of the park. Jungkook pulls out his phone, noticing that it’s the time he set to message Jimin. He does.

30.10.20 9:24 pm : Me : Hey.

Jimin takes a few minutes to respond, but he does.

30.10.20 9:30 pm: My Jimin : Hi!

30.10.20 9:30 pm : Me : What are you up to?

30.10.20 9:30 pm: My Jimin : I’m at home, reading a book. What about you?

30.10.20 9:31 pm : Me : I’m at a skatepark. Had some free time.

30.10.20 9:31 pm: My Jimin : That sounds like fun. 

30.10.20 9:31 pm : Me : Have you ever been?

30.10.20 9:31 pm: My Jimin : No. I don't know how to skate either. I’ve always wanted to learn how but never had the time.

Perfect.

30.10.20 9:32 pm: Me : I can teach you. Are you free tomorrow?

30.10.20 9:32 pm: My Jimin : Yes, I am! :)

30.10.20 9:32 pm: My Jimin : I was actually beginning to think that you wouldn’t message me.

30.10.20 9:33 pm: Me : I mean what I say.

30.10.20 9:33 pm: Me : I’ll pick you up at 6. Don’t dress pretty.

30.10.20 9:34 pm: My Jimin : No promises. Can’t wait.

Jungkook smiles, resuming his practice. He treats his friends to dinner later, ordering a few rounds of beers for them. Namjoon and Taehyung are quick to appreciate the gesture, pigging out and drinking to their heart’s content while Yoongi still sits watching him, concerned. Jungkook ignores it.

The next day, Jungkook is outside Jimin’s apartment building at 6 pm sharp. The other man comes skipping down the stairs a few minutes later, wearing an oversized pink sweater and black leggings. He smiles wider once he sees Jungkook, coming to a stop in front of him.

“I thought I told you not to dress pretty.”

“I d-didn’t!” Jimin refutes, smiling. Jungkook chuckles, leading him to his car. It had been sitting gathering dust in his garage for a while now. He had it washed a few days ago. Why should Jimin have to settle for dirty taxis and public transport?

“Nice car,” Jimin says, unconsciously leaning into the touch of Jungkook’s hand on the small of his back. It’s a sleek black SUV, windows tinted heavily. 

“Thank you,” Jungkook answers, opening the door for him. Jimin seems happy with the gesture, settling in and letting Jungkook strap him in. He can smell that sweet perfume on him once more as he leans in to secure his seatbelt, Jimin still and unmoving at the momentary proximity.

They drive quietly, Jimin as usual preoccupied with looking out of the window and enjoying the drive.

“You like drives.”

“I love drives,” Jimin answers.

“We can go on one later if you’d like,” Jungkook says.

“I’d love that. The last one I went on was when Hoseok, Jin and I took a road trip to the countryside for fun,” Jimin says, smiling at the memory. “They’re my best friends.”

“I see,” Jungkook says, remembering Jin to be the one who’d caught him looking. Odd.

They reach sooner rather than later, not too much traffic on the roads. Jungkook brings out his skateboard and walks with Jimin to the park. It’s a weekday, so there aren’t too many people.

He sets it down onto the ground, near the slopes for beginners.

“Come, get on,” Jungkook says, gesturing for Jimin to step onto the board. He does, holding Jungkook’s hand for support once the board moves under his weight.

“I just move now, right?” Jimin asks.

Jungkook steps on behind him and Jimin squeaks in surprise, almost slipping. Jungkook steadies him with firm hands on his waist, their bodies pressed together.

“Careful. Is this okay?” Jungkook asks, fingers brushing along the soft curve of Jimin’s waist, feeling the press of his ribs against his fingers.

Jimin nods wordlessly, the back of his neck red. He can smell Jimin’s perfume up close now, almost dizzying. He fits perfectly in his hands.

They move slowly, Jungkook pushing the two of them along. “You need to place your weight on the board so you don’t slip,” Jungkook says, pushing a little harder. “And use your other foot to push. It’s important that you regulate your speed and balance or-“

“I’ll fall,” Jimin supplies.

“Yes. You’re a smart one, aren’t you?”

Jimin doesn’t respond although Jungkook can almost feel his stuttering heartbeat from where he’s pressed to his back. They move like that for a while before Jungkook stops, getting off the board.

“Do you want to try now?” Jungkook asks. Jimin looks so adorable, so helpless on the board, one foot on the ground to stop the wheels from moving. He looks at Jungkook like he’s a little kid lost in a mall without his daddy.

“Okay,” Jimin eventually says, starting to move around slowly on his own. He’s a dancer so it comes to him naturally, gliding through the park. He dodges the little slopes even though they’re at the kiddie level of difficulty. It’s so endearing. He still goes slowly, speed increasing only a little, smiling at Jungkook ever so often. He watches.

Jungkook walks up to him after a while.

“Do you want to try the slopes?”

Jimin shakes his head.

“N-No.”

“Why not?”

“I’m afraid I’ll fall,” He answers. That explains his slow speed too.

“I’ll be there with you.  It’s a lot of fun, I promise,” Jungkook says. “I won’t let you fall.”

Jimin looks at him for a few seconds before nodding, shuffling a little ahead on the skateboard. Jungkook resumes his position behind Jimin, pressing in close. They move slowly toward the first slope, Jimin tensing up as they do. He’s clearly afraid of heights.

“Do you trust me?” Jungkook asks into Jimin’s ear. He nods without hesitation.

Jungkook wraps his arms around Jimin’s waist to stabilize him properly before pushing them toward the slope, Jimin squeaking in fright once they tip over the edge. It’s a smooth swoop and it’s over before they know it.

“See? It’s fun,” Jungkook says, still not letting go of Jimin. He nods.

Jungkook moves to let go of him but Jimin stops him with a hand over his, resting where it lies on his flat stomach. “You can s-stay if you want,” He says. Jungkook chuckles. “Okay.”

They zoom across the skatepark after that, still in the beginner’s area, Jimin a little less afraid now that he isn’t alone. His squeals of fright turn into happy giggles sooner than later when Jungkook takes them down the slopes, almost leaning back into Jungkook’s chest.

They have fun like that for a while, Jimin never asking Jungkook to step off so that he can try himself. Jungkook looks up to see a group of other boys, probably teenagers, watching them from afar. They must have heard Jimin’s happy laughter. Jungkook’s grip turns possessive, fingers digging into his skin.

“Are you having fun, Jimin?” The sweet name flies out with abandon.

Jimin nods and Jungkook knows he’s smiling. They continue until Jimin gets tired, all of the slopes and fast movements making him a little dizzy. It gets to the point that Jungkook thinks that Jimin would topple off the board if he wasn't steadying him around his waist, fingers firm where they hold him.

They visit the burger place across the street, picking up two and eating them on one of the benches in the park. Jimin gets a keto one, where the buns are just lettuce and without any mayo. He sits next to Jungkook, the night air chilly.

“Jungkook, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“This is…a date, right?” Jimin asks, evidently trying to keep his tone blank. Jungkook can sense the hopefulness and vulnerability from a mile away.

“Do you want it to be?”

Jimin nods, cheeks pink. So cute.

“Then it is,” Jungkook says, throwing an arm around Jimin’s narrow shoulders. Jimin glows underneath the touch, trying to suppress a smile as he bites into his burger.

They finish soon after and it’s while they’re in the car that Jungkook intertwines their fingers, Jimin’s fingers small and pale against his tattooed ones. Jimin’s palms are so soft, like a baby’s, like they’ve been lathered in sweet-scented lotion. Jungkook has one hand on the wheel, the other in Jimin’s hand on the smaller man’s lap.

“I had so much fun today,” Jimin says. “I might buy a skateboard myself.”

“No. You won’t need me then,” Jungkook says, making Jimin blush furiously.

“You’re such a smooth talker,” He giggles, hand squeezing in his.

“I guess it paid off because I’m on a date with you.”

“That you are,” Jimin says, smiling.

Jungkook pulls over once they reach Jimin’s apartment building, turning the engine off. He looks to the other man, falling in love for what must be the millionth time that day. Jimin never fails to take his breath away.

“The day is over,” Jimin says.

“It is, but I’ll see you soon,” Jungkook responds, intertwining their fingers further.

Jimin looks up at him. “Where did you come from?” He asks, almost mystified. Jungkook laughs.

“Good night,” Jimin says. Before he leaves the car, he leans in and quickly presses a soft kiss to Jungkook’s cheek. He scurries out of the car after, heading into his building with red cheeks.

It’s all so strange. Jungkook has never craved physical contact, even shying away from his own mother’s affection when he was younger. But now, he wants nothing but to be the centre of Jimin’s attention. When he was with Seohyun, and all of his partners before her, he never indulged in any skinship, even holding it against them. 

He wants to touch Jimin, breathe him in, memorize every fibre of his being. Because Jimin exists for him, was born to be his. That’s the reason he feels so.

Jungkook drives home, happy. Maybe he doesn’t smoke a joint and just watches a movie instead. He smiles when Jimin sends him a goodnight text, followed by a notification on his phone.

Minie (@ParkJimin) is now following you!

-

They start hanging out more and more.

Jimin asks him out next, insisting that there’s a nice movie in the theatre he’d like to see. Jungkook takes him right that evening, buying them both the best seats. Jimin forgoes the popcorn but lifts up the seat divider, sitting flush against Jungkook whose arm is steady around his waist.

They go to a Thai restaurant the next week. Jungkook takes him to an amusement park the week after that, Jimin dragging him to all of the food stalls and rides with a happy face, fingers intertwined.

They have their first kiss when Jimin invites him home for dinner, a simple pasta meal. Jungkook arrives with flowers and a bottle of wine, greeting Jimin with a kiss on the forehead that places a seemingly permanent smile on his face. He’s so easy to please.

It’s not at all the pace Jungkook usually goes at, painfully slow. Jungkook is used to getting what he wants but he wants Jimin to lead, wants him to fall into Jungkook. He never asks for kisses, but Jungkook has noticed him hinting at it – coming closer and closer, pretty eyes darting to his own lips.

They’re on Jimin’s couch, cuddled together as Jimin talks about work. He takes a break to have a sip of the hot cocoa he’d made for the both of them, small feet clad in fuzzy socks tucked underneath him. He nuzzles his head into Jungkook’s neck after that, almost entirely on his lap, a soft whine leaving his lips.

“Baby?” Jungkook asks. Jimin doesn’t respond, just grumbling some more – like a little kitten.

Jungkook tilts his chin upward with a firm finger, Jimin’s face barely inches from him. He’s pouting, eyes not meeting his.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asks, biting back a smile.

“Wanna kiss. You never kiss me,” He says childishly. His arms are still wrapped possessively around Jungkook’s middle.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” Jungkook asks, thumb grazing over Jimin’s bottom lip. “You’ve never asked before.”

“That’s because I was waiting for you to do it. I’m tired of waiting,” Jimin whines further, resting his chin on Jungkook’s chest. 

As he leans in, he watches the way Jimin’s eyes are already fluttered closed, lips relaxed and ready. So trusting, so vulnerable. He captures those soft lips with his own, feeling that hunger he felt when they met rise to the surface once more. Jimin is pliant, letting Jungkook lead the kiss, only releasing soft exhales as Jungkook kisses him deep. Their lips move in tandem with one another, Jimin’s back against the couch. It’s an innocent kiss, sweet and romantic, not as depraved as Jungkook wants it to be. Not yet.

There's a tangible shift in the universe, at least in Jungkook's mind.

It’s almost terrifying how smoothly all of this is going.  Jimin is falling into him, already completely pliant in his arms and it’s been what, 3 dates? Jungkook doubts that Jimin would put up much of a fight if he just held him down and fucked him right here. Jimin shuffles in closer, pressing himself to Jungkook’s body, a small hand cupping his face as they exchange sweet kisses. Jimin seems touch-starved, clinging to Jungkook like he’ll disappear.

He’s already won.

The cocaine has his mind racing and the victory makes him soar, knowing that he has Jimin wrapped around his little finger. All his to love, spoil, and touch. He’s already given himself to him. Not entirely, but it won’t be long before then.

The moment is broken when Jimin’s phone starts to ring.

The smaller man pulls away hesitantly, making grabby hands for his phone and answering the call, still clinging to Jungkook as he does.

“Jimin?”

“Hi Hyung.”

Jungkook tenses, increasing his grip on Jimin’s hip.

“What’s up? Jin and I were thinking of catching a movie. Are you in?”

“Uh- I don’t know-“

“C’mon, I’ll pick you up.”

“Say no,” Jungkook whispers into Jimin’s ear, his rapidly increasing grip on his body an unsaid warning. It is a warning, but Jimin sees it as a plea, smiling fondly. “Stay home with me,” He says.

Jungkook trails kisses down Jimin’s neck, his breathing getting shorter.

“Jimin? Are you there?”

“Maybe another time, I’m a little busy-“

“What’s wrong? Your breathing is labored.”

Jungkook laves his tongue over Jimin’s jugular, tasting his sweet natural scent and warm vanilla body wash. He mouths wetly down his neck, biting down onto his delicate collarbone. He feels like it’ll snap if he bites too hard. Jimin tastes addictive and he can’t get enough.

“Baby-“ Jimin breathes out as he curls a gentle hand in Jungkook’s hair, the phone still in a loose grip by his ear.

“Are you with someone right now?” Hoseok asks. His tone has changed. Jungkook wishes the other man could see them right now, just so he can see his heart break.

“Yeah, Hobi. C-Can I call you later?” Jimin asks, shuddering as Jungkook runs his hands up underneath his sleep shirt.

“Good boy,” Jungkook says, brushing a finger over his nipple and making Jimin inhale sharply.

“Who is that? Jimin-“

“I’ll talk to you soon,” Jimin says, ending the call. Jungkook looks up at him, Jimin’s eyes blown wide and lips kiss swollen. He surges up to kiss him again, pushing him down onto the sofa. Jimin goes down easy, wrapping his legs around Jungkook’s waist.

“Why didn’t we-“ A bite on Jimin’s lip “Do this e-earlier?” Jimin asks in between kisses, squeaking as Jungkook plunges his tongue into his mouth. His head is spinning, feeling like he’s attached to a drug.

“Baby should’ve told me if he needed kisses,” Jungkook answers, leaning back to suck a dark bruise into Jimin’s jawline. He breathes out shakily, small hands fisting into Jungkook’s t-shirt. He can feel his little hard-on pressing against his own. The size difference drives him insane, making him kiss Jimin hard enough to bruise, breaking him down. Jimin’s lips are warm and soft against his, cute little moans leaving his mouth as Jungkook sucks on his tongue.

Jungkook reaches a hand down into Jimin’s shorts, sliding into his thin underwear and grabbing at his cock, the touch possessive. It’s short and chubby, already drooling precum. Jimin whines at the contact, grinding into Jungkook’s large palm.

“Excited, hmm?” Jungkook asks against his lips, grinding down onto Jimin. He takes note that Jimin’s pubic area is completely hairless, smooth and soft to the touch. He fits perfectly into the palm of Jungkook’s hand. Maybe some time, when he has more patience, he’ll just jerk Jimin off for hours. Watch the way his little cock that he’s sure is as pink as the rest of him disappears into his fist, weeping cum.

Jimin starts to writhe, hands desperately clutching at Jungkook’s shoulders, kissing him deeply. Jungkook can taste the hot cocoa on his tongue, his hand moving faster to bring him over the edge. He toys with the head that seems to be the most sensitive, rubbing his palm over it with every upstroke. It takes no more than a few minutes before Jimin spills messily into his hand with a high-pitched cry, all of his delicious sounds swallowed by Jungkook. He still jerks him off, greedily watching the way Jimin shudders with oversensitivity.

“Your t-turn,” Jimin says shakily. He extends a small hand down to undo Jungkook’s zipper, pulling his stiff length out from his boxers. “Fuck, you’re big.” Jimin breathes out, starting to stroke him steadily. Jimin’s palm is so deliciously soft against him, fingers unable to fully encompass the girth.

Jimin seems more affected than he is as he jerks him off, delicate wrist flicking with every jerk of his hand. Jungkook licks into his mouth, chasing the delicious friction by grinding into Jimin’s soft palm.

“’M being good?” Jimin asks in between bruising kisses, his lower lip caught between Jungkook’s teeth.

“So good, angel. Perfect for me,” Jungkook says immediately. He knows that he’s going to last a while but Jimin has the stamina to keep the pace up, grip perfect. Jimin seems to be exceptionally good at this, his hand moving in what can only be described as practised motions, thumb swiping over the head, dancing over the vein on the underside, dipping down to fondle his balls. It’s bittersweet, the euphoria of having Jimin all to himself contrasting heavily with the knowledge that he’s already been corrupted, already given himself away, all that belongs to Jungkook.

Whenever he kisses him especially deep, Jimin’s focus seems to falter.

“Silly little baby,” Jungkook says. “Can’t focus when he’s being kissed stupid, hmm?”

Jimin, to his amazement, nods shakily, still jerking Jungkook so well. He’s exactly like what he thought he would be – a submissive, eager to please and fast to overwhelm himself.

Jungkook cums with a groan a few minutes later, sucking on Jimin’s bottom lip as he does, releasing all over Jimin’s small hand and fingers. The orgasm is one of the best he’s ever had, which is a lot considering that it was just a rushed handjob. Perhaps it’s just because it’s Jimin.

Jimin cuddles into his chest once they’re done, the both of them laying on their sides on the sofa. He eventually falls asleep, soft cheek smushed into the cushion and lips pushed out into a beak. Jungkook leans in to kiss him softly, smiling at the way Jimin chases the touch, cuddling in closer.

He eventually picks him up and puts him to bed, laying the soft lavender comforter over his small frame. Jimin looks almost cherubic, features blanked out and his small frame curled in on himself, pale neck dotted and splotched with red and purple. He stands there for a while, breathing the sight in.

Jungkook clicks a picture, just for the memory. It’s a milestone.

He walks to the kitchen to grab himself a glass of water, hearing Jimin’s phone buzz from where it remains on the sofa. He picks it up, smirking when he sees the notifications flow in on the lock screen.

Hobi Hyung <3

We missed you Jimin!

Hobi Hyung <3 has sent you an image.

Who were you with? I hope you’re okay.

Should I stop by to see you?

Jungkook unlocks Jimin’s phone. The password is easy enough to guess, his own birthday.

He quickly types out a response.

12.11.20  10:43 pm : Me : Hi Hyung! I’m fine, don’t worry. I’m with my boyfriend right now.

He sends it off with a smile, switching Jimin’s phone off and heading back to the bedroom. He takes off his shirt and slips underneath the blanket, pulling Jimin into his chest, arms rested on his lower back. He falls asleep breathing in his sweet scent, revelling in the way the smaller man nuzzles closer in his sleep, so unaware of what he’s committed himself to.

-

Jungkook is in love with Jimin.

If it wasn’t obvious then, it’s glaringly obvious now.

He’d do anything for him. He hired a maid. Pays her way more than she deserves to keep quiet about the drugs that he doesn’t have the wherewithal to hide. He invites Jimin over for dinner, the smaller man in awe of the wide space.

They watch a movie, make out for half of it and go to sleep. Jungkook enjoys Jimin’s company and somehow believes that this could be his reality – a nice, healthy and domestic relationship. But no. Jimin hasn’t seen what he is yet. He’s enjoying what he is right now, being the perfect boyfriend, hearing about Jimin’s day, joking about everything and nothing, exchanging soft kisses and touches. But something’s off.

It still somehow feels like pretend.

Jimin asks to meet Jungkook's friends and he promises to let him soon. He’ll just be met with more apprehension. Less for his sake, more for Jimin’s.

Jimin messages him about every little aspect of his day. He tells him about being able to execute a new stretch, about the kittens he feeds during lunch, sends him photos of him and his friends when they go out. He also sends him a goodnight selfie each night, Jungkook always wishing that he could travel across the city and be with him when they’re apart. It’s almost disgusting how in love he is.

Jimin is a needy little baby. Jungkook has never been needed his entire life. There’s always been someone better. Jimin looks at him like he’s the world, like he’s the only one he can see. Jungkook has always been overshadowed, either by his siblings or by Taehyung, with who he still interacts almost daily. Jimin is his and his alone.

It’s been a few weeks since they’ve started dating and Jungkook is content. Jimin is and will stay his. He has enough trust in Jimin for him to not have to follow him as much anymore, already receiving regular updates from his pretty boyfriend about his day.

Jungkook is at Namjoon’s for dinner right now, the older man having invited them weeks in advance. He claims that he’s improved on his cooking and wants to treat them. It’s a warm evening, Namjoon’s apartment golden and happy, so different from how stark and cold it used to be.

Yoongi’s smiling too, looking at Namjoon fondly as the other man arrives at his dining table (that he made himself) with a hot pot of stew, hands clad in mittens. He sets it down with a relieved sigh, Taehyung already having his spoon ready.

Jungkook’s phone buzzes.

30.11.20 9:32 pm: My Jimin : Baby, come over

Jungkook smiles, imagining Jimin snuggled up in bed.

30.11.20  9:34 pm : Me : Hi, angel. I can’t right now.

30.11.20 9:34 pm: My Jimin : :(

30.11.20 9:34 pm: My Jimin : Please?

Jungkook looks at the time. He can’t bail, not right now.

30.11.20 9:35 pm: Me : Maybe in an hour? Can you wait for me, sweetheart?

30.11.20 9:36 pm: My Jimin : Want you here

30.11.20 9:36 pm: My Jimin : I dressed pretty for you.

Jungkook raises an eyebrow, interest piqued.

30.11.20 9:37 pm: My Jimin : Wanna see?

30.11.20 9:38 pm: Me : Of course, baby.

30.11.20 9:40 pm: My Jimin :

30.11.20 9:40 pm: My Jimin : Am I pretty?

Jungkook’s cock twitches in his pants. He resists the urge to groan at the sight, wanting nothing more than to sink his teeth into the soft skin. 

30.11.20 9:42 pm: Me : The prettiest. Why are you all dolled up?

30.11.20 9:42 pm: My Jimin : Want you

This is torture. The others chatter around him, eating happily and clinking shots of soju.

30.11.20 9:44 pm: Me : 30 minutes, angel. I’ll take care of you.

30.11.20 9:44 pm: My Jimin : Want you now :(

30.11.20 9:45 pm: Me : I can’t, sweetheart.

30.11.20 9:46 pm: My Jimin : Nowwwww! I’m lonely

Little brat.

30.11.20 9:47 pm: Me : Be patient.

30.11.20 9:47 pm: My Jimin : You’re no fun.

30.11.20 9:47 pm: My Jimin : I’m calling someone else

Jungkook’s jaw clenches, that dark, possessive feeling welling up in him once more. 

30.11.20 9:48 pm: Me : Don’t you dare.

30.11.20 9:48 pm: My Jimin : You don’t have time for me

30.11.20 9:49 pm: Me : Jimin, I’m warning you.

30.11.20 9:50 pm: My Jimin : Hoseok is on his way.

The emotion Jungkook feels is something he can’t put a name to but has always been there, pulsing and viscous, spreading down to the bone and pulling him in deeper with every second that passes. Gone is the happy boyfriend, something darker and depraved making itself known within him. It’s somehow more familiar. Jungkook feels more like himself.

He dials Jimin’s number. There’s no answer. He can feel anger bubbling up in him, possessiveness rising to the surface. He can tolerate disappointment, is used to it in fact, but not from Jimin.

If Jimin wants to misbehave, fine. He’ll just have to teach him where he belongs.

“Where are you going?” Namjoon asks as Jungkook stands up, walking over to the door to put on his coat and shoes. There’s almost static in his brain, vision blurring at the edges with anger. He doesn’t answer, slamming the door behind him and stalking toward his car.

He dials Jimin once more as he starts the car. He doesn’t answer.

Jungkook tries his number over and over, becoming more infuriated with each unanswered call.

Images of Hoseok fucking Jimin flow through his mind, lewd moans leaving Jimin’s lips almost audible in his ears. They haven’t fucked, not yet, and he’ll be damned if Jimin’s going to spread his legs for someone else like a bitch in heat.

He reaches Jimin’s apartment in record time, stalking up the staircase. It’s completely silent.

Jungkook pounds his fist against Jimin’s door, eyes dark and blank.

The door eventually opens, Jimin peeking through a small crack in the door. His eyes widen when he sees that it’s Jungkook, a small squeak leaving his lips.

“Open the door,” Jungkook says, voice unnaturally still.

Jimin stares, fingers still clutching the side of the door.

“A-Are you mad? I-“

“Open the fucking door. Right now,” Jungkook says, unable to think straight.

“Baby-“

Jungkook forces the door open, shoving his way in. He kicks it shut behind him, the sound loud and jarring. Jimin actually yelps with fright, moving back into the apartment, almost tripping on his own feet. He’s still dressed all pretty, soft sweater and powder pink thigh highs, garters sitting delicately on his pale skin. All the exposed skin makes him dizzy and he can feel himself harden, both at the sight and at the knowledge of what he’s about to do.

Jungkook stalks toward him and fists a hand in his hair, yanking his head back and ripping a sharp cry from Jimin’s throat.

“You think it’s funny to play with me, huh? Whore yourself out to someone else?” Jungkook grits out, grip tight and unrelenting on his soft hair.

“No, I-“ Jimin says, already tearing up.

“You’re mine. You’re fucking mine,” Jungkook snaps in his ear, his other hand gripping possessively at Jimin’s bare thigh, hard enough to leave bruises. He brings his hand up to squeeze at Jimin’s ass, making the other man let out a pitiful sob, fingernails digging into the fat.

“I didn’t d-do anything, I promise-“

“Good boys wait,” Jungkook says. He backs Jimin up against a wall, caging him in. Jimin is actually tearing up from fright, lower lip trembling. He almost feels bad.

Jungkook runs his hand up his legs, cupping the front of the baby pink panties he has on. He lets out a chuckle.

“Really? You’re getting hot from this?” Jungkook spits cruelly, roughly grabbing Jimin’s hard cock through the soft cotton of his panties. Jimin whines, neck still pulled back with Jungkook’s grip on his hair, lips thick and inviting.

Jungkook surges forward, kissing him hard enough to bruise, all teeth and tongue. There’s no trace of the tenderness that he usually kisses him with, just him devouring Jimin’s mouth, breaking him down with every nip of his teeth against his soft lips and swipe of his tongue. Jimin’s head knocks back against the wall with the force of it, small hands coming to rest around Jungkook, clinging and desperate.

Still, he wants me.

Jungkook pulls back, greedily taking in the way Jimin’s eyes are glassy now, breath coming out short and quick, increasing in pitch as Jungkook increases his harsh grip on his cock. He isn’t being gentle by any means and he knows how sensitive Jimin is to touch.

“What were you thinking, huh?” Jungkook asks, eyes boring into Jimin’s.

“I j-just wanted you to come home, you always c-come-“

“I told you I was busy. Have I ever disappointed you?”

Jimin doesn’t answer.

“Have I?” Jungkook asks sharply, yanking his head back further. Jimin flinches back and his eyes squeeze shut, as if preparing himself for a hit. A tear slips out of his eye. There’s depth to the question, a hint of his own insecurities peaking to the surface. It adds fuel to the fire.

It’s a cold kind of anger, one that comes in bursts, charged by the delicious little reactions Jimin gives him. It’s the type where he knows that his own actions are unpredictable, body moving on its own volition.

“No, n-never, you never d-disappoint me-“ Jimin breathes out, voice wafer-thin. He runs his hands over Jungkook’s chest and shoulders in what must be an attempt to calm him down, small hands cupping his face.

“Sorry, ‘m sorry-“ Jimin spews out pathetically, thumb gently brushing across Jungkook’s cheekbone in soothing motions. The touch is so tender that Jungkook can’t help but soften a little.

“Did you call him over?” Jungkook asks.

Jimin shakes his head immediately, as much as he can with Jungkook’s grip on him. “I j-just texted him for f-fun, didn’t invite him.”

“Baby’s a little liar, hmm?” Jungkook says, stiff cock  now pressing into Jimin’s hip. He looks absolutely sinful, lips bruised and face debauched, tears running down his soft cheeks. He has half a mind to lean in and bite hard, scar his pretty face with his teeth.

“I j-just wanted you here with me,” Jimin says and Jungkook’s heart almost melts.

“Why?” Jungkook asks, finally loosening his grip on Jimin’s hair. He brings his hands to Jimin’s mouth, pushing his thumb in. Jimin’s lithe frame looks so devastatingly beautiful in the baby pink sweater and thigh highs, pretty garter belt and strappy panties sitting perfect on his glass skin.

“I missed you, wanted to feel you,” Jimin admits around Jungkook’s tattooed thumb, mouth hot and wet around the appendage. Jungkook’s eyes maintain their intensity, fingers traveling to his ass. He pushes his panties to the side and prods at his tight rim with a finger, raising an eyebrow when he finds that it’s wet. He circles the puckered hole, adding slight pressure and drinking in the way Jimin’s eyes flutter closed, knees almost going weak.

“Were you playing with yourself?” Jungkook asks, his erection almost painful in the tight confines of his jeans. He holds Jimin’s body tightly against his, no room for him to escape.

“I thought you weren’t g-going to come,” Jimin says, shuddering as Jungkook dips his finger in lightly. Jimin looks like art, face angled towards his, eyes shut and mouth dropped open in anticipation. Jungkook licks into his mouth, sliding a finger into his tight, wet heat. Jimin gasps into the kiss, thin arms coming up to wrap around his shoulders, clinging to him and Jungkook fucks in his finger.

It goes in smoothly, so Jungkook pushes in another one. He’s unsure whether the move was too fast because Jimin whines into his mouth at the stretch, rolling his hips back to fuck himself down onto Jungkook’s fingers. His hole is slick with lube, the squelch of it audible in the quiet apartment, offset only by Jimin’s deep breaths and pitiful whines.

Jungkook breathes him in, stealing the air out of his lungs because everything of Jimin is his, belongs to him in every sense and form. All of his cries, his tears, his thoughts, his body – it all belongs to him.

Jungkook eventually withdraws his fingers, releasing his grip on Jimin. The smaller man is breathing heavily, chest rising and falling with each deep inhale. He already looks so deliciously overwhelmed.

“On your knees,” Jungkook says, cock stiffening further when Jimin drops to the floor without hesitation. He’s such a gorgeous sight, hair messy from all the pulling, eyes starry with tears. It’s exactly as he envisioned.

Jimin reaches up his hands to unbuckle his belt but Jungkook smacks them away.

“Did I say you could touch?” Jungkook asks, pushing Jimin’s hair off his forehead, smoothing over his cheekbones and swollen lips.

Jimin shakes his head, moving his hands to rest them on his lap. The power trip is addictive, Jungkook high off of it.

He unbuckles his belt and wastes no time pulling down his pants just enough for his cock to be visible, stiff and bulging obscenely through the fabric of his briefs. He fists another hand into Jimin’s hair, pressing his pretty face against his cock, nose and lips flush against the hard member.

Jimin mouths at it desperately, eyes glassy as they look into Jungkook’s firm and unmoving ones. He soaks through the fabric soon enough, Jimin sucking and licking at him like it’s the finest treat he’s ever received. Jungkook eventually yanks him back, pulling his waistband down so that his cock can spring free. It slaps Jimin's cheek, precum streaking across his plump lips.

Jimin looks at it with hazy eyes before he looks up at Jungkook, mouth dropping open in invitation.

Jungkook smirks.

He pushes Jimin down onto the length without hesitation, relishing the way he chokes almost immediately, tears streaming down his cheeks as his gag reflex gets triggered. His face is pink, throat constricting around the intrusion.

Jungkook keeps him there for around 10 seconds before he pulls him off, heart melting at the way Jimin takes gasping breaths, eyes unfocused, drool dripping down his chin is viscous strings.

“Okay?” He asks, catching one of Jimin’s precious tears with his thumb. He brings it to his mouth, relishing the salty taste of it on his tongue.

Jimin nods, coughing once more before opening his mouth again. Jungkook pulls him back down onto his cock and Jimin puts up a valiant effort this time to adjust to the large length in his mouth, prodding at the back of his throat. Jungkook trails a finger down his throat, feeling the way it protrudes against the thin skin of his neck. 

He does this a few times, deeming it necessary to throat-train Jimin. He doesn’t know what inferior cocks he’s sucked before but he’ll need to get used to Jungkook. Jimin is a good boy, he’ll manage.

Jungkook eventually starts to fuck into Jimin’s mouth when his gagging reduces, maintaining a steady pace. Jimin’s eyes are glassy, unfocused as he’s just made to take and take, Jungkook’s cock sliding into his throat like a nice little cocksleeve. His throat is impossibly tight, wet and hot. Jungkook imagines it’s sweet too, glad that he’s reaching so deep inside of him, where no one else has gone before. Everything of Jimin’s is his to use.

Jimin still isn’t capable of taking Jungkook all the way, lips stretched obscenely around the girth of his cock, drool dripping down onto his pretty sweater and powder pink thigh highs, soiling the delicate fabric. It’s the perfect picture of ruined innocence, Jungkook’s tattooed hands and large cock ruining him in more ways than one.

It’s dizzying how Jimin just sits back and lets him use his throat but it’s clear that he’s enjoying it, Jungkook greedily watching the way the damp spot on his pretty little panties increases in size.

Why not help Jimin out too?

He presses his foot down onto Jimin’s cock through the panties, Jimin almost buckling forward with the pressure. Jungkook massages the cock with his foot, pressing down onto it hard and watching the way Jimin’s eyes roll into the back of his head, rutting slightly against the sole of it. The action is so demeaning that it makes him dizzy, feeling like he’s in the clouds, untouchable as Jimin throats him like a seasoned whore, rutting his little cock against his foot like a bitch in heat.

Jungkook eventually pulls out of his mouth and withdraws his foot when Jimin’s grinding gets more desperate, indicating that he is about to cum. Jimin always overexcites himself, never really being one for patience when it comes to sex. Jungkook will have to teach him. 

Jimin pants, drool still dripping down the sides of his mouth.

“So pretty, my gorgeous baby,” Jungkook says, caressing Jimin’s face. The smaller man nuzzles into the touch, pressing his soft nose into his palm. He looks so fucked out.

Jungkook hauls him up, tossing Jimin over his shoulder with ease, taking him to the bedroom. He sets him down onto the bed, taking a moment to breathe in the sight of him against the soft, pink sheets.

Baby

Jungkook leans in to give him a soft kiss that’s more love than heat, gentle and slow. He runs his hands underneath Jimin’s sweater, feeling all of the silky smooth skin, the soft buds of his rosy nipples, the taut abdomen, the cute dip of his belly button and his protruding hip bones. Jungkook is so in love that it hurts.

“You’re okay?” He asks in between kisses, Jimin nodding shakily against his lips, pulling him closer.

Jungkook sits up, straddling his hips and pulls Jimin’s sweater up. He then leans back down and worships his body – dropping soft kisses all over his face, down the tantalizing line of his neck, over his delicate collarbones, on his pink nipples. He spends a little extra time on the sensitive buds, laving his tongue over them and sucking each one into his mouth, drowning in Jimin’s soft gasps. He then trails kisses down his tummy, his thighs and over his dainty ankles and feet.

Jimin’s a whimpering mess by the end of it, skin tingling from all of the kisses and his emotional state. Subspace seems to be new territory for him, evident in his quick breathing and lax limbs, eyes glassy. His arms lay limp next to him, knowing to just sit back and accept the soft touches.

Jungkook surges up to peel away his panties, his cock lying hard and leaking on his tummy, cherry red. He drops kisses along the length of it too, suckling a few times on the tip just to see his hips jump. Even Jimin’s precum is sweet, the taste of it addictive on his tongue.

Jungkook hasn’t ever been this rough with him so he made sure to take his time with this little cool down so that Jimin’s hazy mind can settle. He pushes Jimin’s legs up and backward till they’re flush against his chest, the smaller man bent exactly in half. The stretch is easy given Jimin’s high flexibility, limbs moving like butter. Jimin holds himself in the position, hands on the backs of his thighs, so uncaring of how he’s exposed, fully trusting of Jungkook.

Jungkook takes the lube bottle that lays on the bed, probably what Jimin was using before he arrived, drizzling some onto his fingers.

He presses a few chaste kisses to his pink hole, tongue dipping in before pushing in three fingers. Jimin lets out a soft gasp, small fingers pressing into his soft thighs. It’s a tight fit even after several thrusts and scissoring of his fingers, making Jungkook wonder if everything about Jimin is small.

He brushes his fingertips over Jimin’s prostate once in a while, knowing him to be sensitive. He doesn’t want to overdo it, sure that Jimin would cum too soon if he teased him too much. There’d been a day when he’d rubbed 4 orgasms out of him but Jimin was barely conscious for the last one. He doesn’t want that. He wears out easily. Jungkook has to be careful with his energy.

Jungkook inserts a fourth finger, Jimin whining weakly at the stretch, eyes still closed where he lies on the bed, pliant. Little labored breaths leave his precious lips, disappearing into the sheets.

My perfect little pillow prince

When Jungkook deems the prep to be enough, Jimin’s rim no longer clinging to his fingers as tight anymore, he grabs the lube bottle and slicks up his cock. He brings Jimin’s legs back up, holding them together and placing both onto one of his shoulders. He holds both of his slim ankles in one hand, keeping them there and using the other to guide his cock into Jimin’s hole.

Jungkook pushes in, Jimin gasping as he’s penetrated, thighs pressed together tightly. Only his tip is in.

“Will you do it again?” Jungkook asks, voice sickly sweet.

“D-Do what?” Jimin asks, voice soft and confused.

Seems like the silly slut has forgotten.

“Disobey me,” Jungkook says.

“No, never-“

“Promise me,” Jungkook says, grip hard on his ankles, fingers digging into the hollow of the bone. Jimin squirms, face flushed hot and pink.

“Please don’t be mad, baby please-“

“Promise me, Jimin.”

“I p-promise, I won’t ever do it again, ‘m sorry-“

Jungkook shoves himself in all the way to the hilt, hips flush against Jimin’s. Jimin lets out a sharp cry at the sudden intrusion, fingers fisting into the sheets.

“You won’t disobey me?” Jungkook asks before pulling back and slamming into him again, Jimin jostled up the bed with the force of the thrust.

“N-No, never, I won’t-“ Jimin splutters out, tears streaming down his face. He’s genuinely distraught, exactly how Jungkook wants him to be. He wants to break him down, teach him where he belongs. Alternating between being soft and hard is what Jungkook knows is the perfect way to reduce Jimin into a whimpering mess in subspace, confusing him and making him cling to what he knows. He’d rather see him happy, but if this is what it takes for him to learn, so be it.  It’s all about keeping the perfect balance.

It’s so incredibly satisfying, so cathartic because this is exactly what Jungkook saw in his mind the moment he’d set eyes on the pretty dancer.

“You won’t be a slut again?”

“I w-won’t, I won’t-“ Jimin rushes out, Jungkook now fucking into his tight hole like a madman. His face is still blank, stoic, only a trickle of sweat running down the side of his forehead. His eyes are dark, breathing in the sight of Jimin underneath him, a pathetic mess in the sheets as he gets rammed like he never has before.

Jimin is deliciously tight around him, pink rim clinging to his cock every time he pulls out only to slam back in. Jungkook keeps a steady pace, hips pistoning into the smaller man so fast and hard that Jimin seems like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He can’t move, because Jungkook’s got his legs in his tight grip. All he can do is grasp pathetically at the sheets.

"You'll fucking answer the phone when I call you," He spits, hips colliding with his in a way that's sure to bruise. He can still feel Jimin's body adjusting to him, rim clinging to his cock, the pressure unbelievable.

Jimin’s back arches when Jungkook rams into his prostate, thrusts bordering on the edge of painful, the direct stimulation more than the dancer has ever felt. Jimin had told Jungkook that he’d never really been satisfied in bed before, not finding too much pleasure in sex. He loves the physical contact so he indulges in it.

But now, Jungkook feels a steady sense of victory as he watches the way precum is forced out of Jimin’s little cock with every direct thrust to his prostate, gathering on his belly. Jungkook stops in the middle to pull off his own t-shirt, flinging it to a corner of the room. The contrast is more apparent now – Jimin’s pale skin, almost like glass, blotched pink against his tattooed body. It’s almost poetic, a beautiful symphony.

Jungkook presses his hand to his lower belly to increase the pressure on his prostate from both sides, Jimin’s thighs starting to tremble. He fucks into his tight hole, rim still gripping him so well even after all of the abuse.

“God, you feel like a fucking virgin-“ Jungkook grits out, tilting his head to the side to bite down onto Jimin’s ankle. Not too hard though. Jimin’s feet are hurt enough.

“Baby’s sorry, ‘m sorry-“ Jimin slurs out mindlessly, tears slipping out of his eyes even though they’re closed. Jungkook chuckles, reaching a hand down to wipe away his tears while still fucking into him.

It takes a few more thrusts for Jimin to cum with a sharp cry, a full-bodied shudder wracking his lithe frame, cum splattering all over his stomach and chest., back arching and toes curling. When he comes down from the orgasm, still whining softly in overstimulation – Jungkook still relentless against his prostate and sensitive walls – Jungkook gathers the cum with his fingers.

He feeds it back to Jimin, the lewd sight of Jimin’s plush lips latching unhesitatingly onto his fingers driving him closer to the edge.

“How are you even real?” Jungkook asks in wonder, more to himself, feeling that tightly wound coil in his belly threatening to snap at a moment’s notice. The word ‘love’ sits on the tip of his tongue, more apparent as he just watches Jimin, fucked out and spent on the bed, just taking and taking.

This is not how he saw their first time together going. He had imagined a soft and romantic night, much like their first kiss. But this feels better, more authentic.

He cums with a groan inside of Jimin, claiming him inside and out. He still fucks him through it, riding out his orgasm with gritted teeth, making full use of his body. He pulls out with a hiss, watching the way his cum is quick to trickle out of his fucked out hole, dripping down onto the soft sheets.

Jimin lays quivering on the sheets, eyes still shut tightly.

Jungkook knows that he has to be careful now. He knows he’s frightened Jimin out of his wits and one wrong move could end everything. Jungkook slides up the bed, laying down and pulling a trembling Jimin into his arms. The smaller man comes easy, curling up into his chest, thighs still quaking.

“We’re all done, baby. It's over,” Jungkook says into his hair, a hand moving in soothing motions up and down his back.

“Are you mad at me?” Jimin asks, voice so soft it’s almost inaudible. Jungkook is quick to shush him, pressing kisses to his forehead that Jimin nuzzles into. A good sign, albeit surprising.

“I was, but not anymore. Did I scare you, angel?”

Jimin nods immediately, wrapping his arms around Jungkook’s middle and burying his face into his chest. He can feel tears on his skin.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I wouldn’t have been scary if you had listened to me. You’ll listen next time, right?”

Jimin nods once more. Jungkook tilts his face up with a finger on his chin, pressing a soft kiss to his lips as a reward. 

“I’m not mad at you,” Jungkook says once more, looking Jimin in the eyes. He traces his thumb across Jimin’s lips, caressing the plump flesh.

“Was I good?” Jimin asks, pressing a soft kiss to the pad of his thumb.

“The best, baby. There’s nobody like you,” Jungkook says, so honest that it surprises him. “Did you like it? Felt good?” Jungkook asks, fingers now tracing shapes into Jimin’s naked back.

“Mhmm,” Jimin says sleepily. “I’ve never felt so good,” He admits, returning to his place in Jungkook’s chest. Jungkook hums, satisfied.

“How about you take a nap for a little while? I’ll draw you a nice bath and give you a massage when you wake up. I’ll order some nice dinner too and we can watch a movie you like.” Jungkook suggests, pressing light kisses all over Jimin’s soft hair, breathing in the scent of his strawberry shampoo. “Would you like that, sweetheart?”

Jimin nods once more. Jungkook moves to sit up and grab his phone, stopping when Jimin lets out a whine, wrapping his arms tighter around Jungkook, almost painful.

“Where are you going?” He asks, as if on the verge of tears.

“Nowhere, I’m right here with you,” Jungkook reassures, so fond. This is exactly what he wanted.

“Don’t leave me,” Jimin says quietly and Jungkook knows that he’s about to fall asleep, evident in the way his syllables are slurring together.

“Never,” Jungkook answers, still caressing his back.

Jimin falls asleep almost immediately, soft breathing steady against his chest. He clings to Jungkook, arms and legs wrapped around him like a burrito. He fits perfectly in his arms.

There's a shift in their relationship. The facade is over, but Jimin still wants to stay, still wants him. Still wants to be his and not run away. It's confirmed for Jungkook now, that Jimin is meant to be his, to belong to him.

Jungkook watches him sleep for a while, tracing his fingers over the pout of his lips and wiping away the remaining tear streaks. He loves him so much it hurts, so much that he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

Jimin isn’t a deep sleeper but he’s knocked out right now, sleep heavy with exhaustion. Jungkook manages to reach out and get his phone, responding to the countless messages from his friends about his whereabouts and why he left so suddenly. He tells them that it was something urgent regarding his boyfriend and all the questions stop. Both Taehyung and Namjoon tell him to take care. Yoongi sees the message but doesn’t respond.

Jungkook looks at Jimin’s panties on the floor. He’s glad that he was gentle with them, knowing how much Jimin spent on them. His contacts at the bank send Jungkook Jimin’s transaction list every week, so he knows what he spends his money on.

No secrets

Jungkook can feel himself drift away, Jimin’s breathing and presence in his arms so soothing that he’s on the verge of dropping off too, eyelids heavy. He nuzzles his nose into Jimin’s hair, arms wrapping around him tighter, legs tangled together.

There’s a knock on the door.

Jungkook’s eyes shoot open, on alert now. He waits.

There’s another knock. A little more firm this time. Jungkook is glad that Jimin’s doorbell doesn’t work. He doesn’t want him waking up.

He’ll deal with this. No one has any business visiting Jimin this late at night.

Jungkook carefully untangles himself from Jimin’s body, pressing a few soft kisses to his forehead as he does. He stands up from the bed, walking toward the front door.

The knocks keep coming, increasing in intensity. Jungkook sees Jimin’s phone vibrating on silent mode on the coffee table. He raises an eyebrow.

Jungkook opens the door, coming face to face with Hoseok whose smile just disappears off his face, replaced with a clenched jaw and narrowed eyes.

The other man has his phone pressed to his ear, obviously in the midst of calling Jimin. Jungkook stands uncaring in the doorway, shirtless. He sees the way Hoseok’s eyes analyze him, trailing over his tattoos and built physique.

This should be fun.

“Can I help you?” Jungkook asks.

Chapter Text

To be with you would mean to lose myself

Playlist

There are very few things in life that are completely satisfying, at least to Jungkook. He doesn't find the usual pleasure in symmetry, or when figure skaters are able to execute a perfect circle, cut into the ice with one calculated woosh of their leg. What he does find enjoyable is catching people off-guard, seeing them exhibit the exact behavior he's carefully drawn out of them, step by step.

Hoseok is no different, his immediate surprise and apprehension at seeing a stranger where Jimin is supposed to be so deliciously evident in his features.

“Is Jimin home?” He asks, eyes narrowed with suspicion.

What a stupid question. An absolute moron. Of course, he’s home. Why would Jungkook be here otherwise, stinking of sex?

“He’s asleep. Who are you?” Jungkook asks nonchalantly like it's his first time seeing him.

Hoseok seems almost offended by the question, quirking up an eyebrow.

“I’m his best friend.”

Jungkook doesn’t show any sign of acknowledging the statement, still looking at Hoseok like he doesn’t belong here. He doesn’t.

“Ah, I see. Did Jimin invite you?” Jungkook asks.

Jimin said that he didn’t, but Jungkook wants to make sure that he didn’t lie. He won’t tolerate dishonesty.

“He doesn’t need to.” Hoseok responds, tone flat. “He told me that he was going to spend the night alone. I thought I’d keep him some company.”

“I see.” Jungkook says.

He’ll give Jimin a kiss for telling the truth. He should’ve trusted Jimin from the start – known that he wouldn’t be unfaithful. Jimin is the type to joke, after all, must’ve thought it cute to say a small fib to make him jealous – most likely unaware of the consequences. Still, the measures he took were necessary. He’d rather prevent anything before it happens. Discipline starts at the roots.

“You’re the boyfriend, aren’t you?” Hoseok asks, tone guarded. Jungkook is still standing right in the middle of the doorway, not moving to allow him to enter.

“I am. Is there something I can do for you?” Jungkook asks with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Hoseok seems to see right through it, jaw clenched.

“I don’t need you to do anything for me. I’m Jimin’s best friend and I want to see him.” The indignation in his tone is clear, a sliver of small-town accent audible to his ears. He's clearly trying to hide it, only slipping out when he's stressed.

Jungkook is amused. “Do you always visit people’s boyfriends uninvited when they’re alone?”

Hoseok’s eyes widen, taken aback by the statement. “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are-“

“Jungkook?” Jimin’s voice makes both of them go silent. Jungkook turns around, still standing in the doorway and blocking Jimin from Hoseok’s view in case he’s still naked. He isn’t, now wearing a soft pair of grey sweats and a white t-shirt that looks suspiciously like Jungkook’s.

Jungkook’s eyes go hard, angry that Jimin has woken up. He needed his rest. It’s all his fault – Hoseok’s.

“Baby.” Jungkook says, smiling as Jimin wraps his arms around Jungkook from behind, pressing his face into his back. Hoseok stares at Jimin’s arms spanning across Jungkook’s middle, eyes wide with what is unmistakably heartbreak.

Know your place, Jungkook thinks.

“Who’s at the door, I’m hungry,” Jimin says sleepily.

“It’s me, Jimin,” Hoseok says, voice soft with fondness. It’s like the venom with which he spoke to Jungkook didn’t even exist, not a single trace of it identifiable in his tone.

“Hobi Hyung,” Jimin says, sounding surprised and pulling away from Jungkook’s back to open the door. It irks him, the loss of contact making him grit his teeth. The moment Jimin sees the other man, his eyes widen before he looks to Jungkook.

“I swear I didn’t-“ Jimin starts, desperate. He probably thinks that he’s in trouble again.

“I know, sweetheart. You wouldn’t lie to me,” Jungkook says softly, throwing an arm around Jimin’s waist and kissing his forehead. The smaller man visibly relaxes and Jungkook can almost feel the leash in his hands, connected to a pretty little collar around Jimin’s throat.

“How come you haven’t introduced us before, Jimin?” Hoseok asks, entering the apartment once Jimin gestures for him to. He sits right on the couch, like he belongs here.

Jimin shuts the door softly and follows, plopping down next to him. Jungkook stands by the doorway, watching. Jimin has a slight limp and Jungkook feels a deep-rooted sense of satisfaction.

“I don’t know, I guess it just never happened? Our plans are mostly spontaneous so I didn’t think of it,” Jimin answers, skin glowing. His hair still is messy, lips still swollen. If Hoseok notices, he doesn’t say anything. “I’ll go make us some tea,” He says, standing up and heading over to the kitchen.

Jungkook walks to the bedroom and pulls on a shirt before heading back to the living room and sitting down on one of the chairs. Jimin sets the tea to brew and rejoins them, sitting down on the couch. Jungkook gives him a pointed look – resulting in Jimin standing up squeezing in onto the chair with him.

Hoseok eyes the entire interaction with narrowed eyes.

“How come you’re here, Hyung? I thought you were supposed to go out with your friends,” Jimin asks absentmindedly, curling up next to him. He still seems a little dazed from earlier. Jungkook probably fucked his brains out.

“I canceled. Thought I’d come here and keep you company,” Hoseok says.

“Aw, you didn’t have to do that, Hyung. I probably would’ve gone to sleep if Jungkook hadn’t come over. I’d have been no fun,” Jimin says, smiling. He then looks to Jungkook.

“Baby, this is Hoseok. He’s my best friend that I told you about. I’ve been meaning to introduce you guys. There’s Jin Hyung too, but you can meet him later.”

“I see,” Jungkook says, smiling at Hoseok like they weren’t just at each other’s throats a second ago. Hoseok seems a little unnerved by the difference, looking at Jungkook like he’s a psychopath.

Wouldn’t be too far off.

“Hyung, this is Jungkook. We started dating a few weeks ago.”

“Yeah, Min. You told me,” Hoseok says. “He’s a little different from how you described him though.”

“Oh?” Jungkook asks, looking at Jimin. “How’d you describe me, angel?” He prods, rubbing his hand up and down Jimin’s side.

“I-uh-“ Jimin starts, cheeks flushing red.

“He said that you were sweet and charming, very friendly.”

Jungkook huffs a laugh, pressing a wet kiss to Jimin’s cheek. “Didn’t know I had such raving reviews,” He teases, his arm on Jimin’s waist getting tighter. Jimin doesn’t say anything but leans into the touch, probably embarrassed. Cute.

Hoseok stands up.

“I think I’ll head back home,” He says, shrugging his coat on.

Jimin frowns. “Stay for tea, Jungkook and I were going to order some food too.”

“Yes, stay,” Jungkook adds, smiling at Hoseok from where he sits. Hoseok looks at him like he’s a wild animal, seeming more and more disconcerted with every second that passes.

“Another time.”

“But you came all this way-“ Jimin pouts.

“It’s fine. Let’s all go out for dinner in a few days, we can call Jin Hyung too,” Hoseok says, sounding a little more confident.

“Sure! That sounds great,” Jimin says, smiling. He walks Hoseok to the door, hugging him goodbye. Jungkook digs his fingers into his seat, the smile still on his face.

“It was nice meeting you, Hoseok,” Jungkook says.

The other man stares for a few seconds, eyes filled with what can only be called discomfort and a deep unsettlement before he turns around and walks out the door.

Jimin waits till he disappears down the stairs before finally closing the door and coming back to Jungkook. He collapses into his chest, wrapping his arms and legs around him, like he’s trying to disappear into his body. Jungkook wouldn’t mind it.

“I thought you’d left me,” Jimin says.

“You know I’d never do that,” Jungkook answers, pressing a kiss to Jimin’s hair. Jimin hums, nuzzling in further. “You smell like me. I like it.” He says.

“You’re mine. I should smell like you,” Jungkook responds. He can feel Jimin smile into his skin.

“Your friend. Hoseok," Jungkook starts, running his hands up and down the other man’s back. Jimin looks up at him.

“He likes you,” Jungkook says.

“No, he doesn’t,” Jimin answers smoothly like it’s a well-known fact. “We’ve been friends for years. We’re just close,” He says.

“I know what I know. He likes you.”

Jimin is quiet for a few seconds. “Is this because of the text?” He asks, voice soft. “I didn’t actually invite him, we were texting anyway, I just wanted to tease you-“

“I know. But it’s not because of that. You’ll be careful, won’t you?” Jungkook says.

Jimin opens his mouth to say something but the kettle on the stove whistles loudly, earning both of their attention. It’s bubbling and spilling over onto the countertop. Jimin hurries to turn it off, setting it to the side.

“You don’t have to worry,” Jimin says timidly. He isn’t looking at Jungkook, back to him as he pours the tea into two cups. It’s oddly reminiscent of the first time he was here, having just entered Jimin’s life – the start of a new beginning, the end of an era of solitude. “I know he doesn’t like me that way,” He says, softer this time.

“What do you mean?” Jungkook asks.

“I had feelings for him when we were younger. I confessed to him when we were in school but he said no,” Jimin says blankly but it’s evident that it affected him, a sensitive topic.

An absolute fucking idiot, Hoseok. Jungkook can’t fathom it, make sense of it.

“Why?”

“He said that he didn’t like boys. It’s fine though, I grew out of it,” Jimin dismisses, returning with the two cups of tea. He sets them down onto the table, sitting down onto the floor between Jungkook’s legs.

“You’re mine now,” Jungkook says, fingers carding through Jimin’s hair. He tries to soothe his scalp, a silent apology for the roughness with which he’d handled him earlier.

“I am,” Jimin responds.

They spend the rest of the evening as Jungkook promised – a back massage and a cozy dinner with a movie. He runs Jimin a hot bath after and they fall asleep at around 3 in the morning. Maybe he checks Jimin’s phone once he’s asleep to double-check that he was telling the truth.

Jimin seems touchier now than he was before, clinging to Jungkook like he’s the center of his universe, the only gravity holding him down. Jungkook wouldn’t have it any other way.

-

“Do you ever get tired of this life?” Taehyung asks, sitting back on Jungkook’s sofa. It’s just blooming dusk, the vivid oranges and purples seeping in through the freshly washed windows of his apartment.

It’s just the two of them. Taehyung had called earlier, wanting to come over.

“What do you mean?” Jungkook responds. It’s been a week since that day with Jimin. They’ve gotten closer and Jimin is transparent – tells him everything about where he goes, who he’s with, what he does. He calls Jungkook cute and protective, only this way because of the circumstances upon which they met.

Jungkook wonders if Jimin really can’t identify this behavior as a red flag. But then again, Jimin’s dating history is sparse. He rarely had the time in between practice growing up and the few relationships he did have were terrible – boys who just wanted to experiment and had no interest in him beyond his body. Jungkook must seem like a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow to him.

Taehyung sighs, leaning back against the couch. He’s been acting odd recently – or maybe it’s been developing over a few months. Taehyung has changed. He doesn’t smoke up as much anymore and is sober most of the time, is willing to sit alone with his thoughts. Jungkook doesn’t have that bravery just yet.

“Tired of just…everything. I feel like I’m heading nowhere.”

Jungkook knows that feeling. He lives it, but he doesn’t have to worry about having a roof over his head. Taehyung does, and he’d never take Jungkook’s money. Not that he holds any grief for his family, just wishes to be self-sufficient that way, to not tarnish the friendship.

“Does it bother you?” Jungkook asks.                                                        

“Yes, it does,” Taehyung answers, sitting up. “I feel like we were kids when we started to fuck up our lives. I stopped paying as much attention to my work, stopped doing things I used to love. All I could see was the drugs and partying.”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything. He shouldn’t. He’s the one who technically fucked up Taehyung. He’s the one who pushed him to snort his first line of cocaine when he was already drunk. He’s the one who encouraged Taehyung to stop caring about exams and pleasing teachers, pushing him to live Jungkook’s toxic lifestyle. Taehyung’s life became syringes and lines of white at his hands.

Perhaps it was carefully orchestrated, to see his downfall. Still, Taehyung has never held it against him.

“I had so many dreams. I thought I’d go to college, maybe travel the world and meet somebody sweet. I thought I’d have a bunch of kids, have a nice job, and make sure that my family is happy. I know that I’m still young but everything seemed so possible back then. It just all feels so far away now, out of reach.”

Taehyung has always been a family person. Probably because he never had one, Jungkook thinks.

“What the fuck were you going to do in college, anyway? Become a brain-dead loser like my brother?” Jungkook retorts.

“Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad,” Taehyung says, voice quiet.

“You’re being weird.”

“I’ve been this way for a while, Gguk. You just haven’t been around,” Taehyung responds, sounding tired and truly, utterly, defeated. Perhaps Jungkook really hasn’t been around. He just completed two months with Jimin the previous week, rarely having time for anything in between.

Before Jungkook can respond, his doorbell rings.

“Did you invite the others?” He asks him.

Taehyung shakes his head, still lost in thought. It’s odd to see, usual happiness replaced with a lack of energy and an abundance of bone-deep disappointment. His handsome features are marred with it, usually sparking eyes dull with a cold fear for the future.

Jungkook stands up and walks over to the door, the security camera feed displaying a happy-faced Jimin with his night bag. Jungkook opens the door immediately, the smaller man in his arms in less than a second.

“Surprise,” Jimin says into his shirt. Jungkook presses a kiss to his hair, wrapping his arms around him.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” He says, face blank although his eyes are fond.

“I missed you. Thought I’d stay the night,” Jimin responds, pulling away. “I took the bus.” He announces.

“I could’ve picked you up,” Jungkook says, frowning. He’s deeply uncomfortable with the thought of Jimin using public transport. He’s told him so many times before to only take taxis, that too only with Jungkook’s prior knowledge so that he can track his location.

“It’s fine, it was fun,” Jimin dismisses. “Is someone else here?” He asks curiously, noticing Taehyung’s shoes in the doorway.

“Uh, yeah. Taehyung,” Jungkook answers. Jimin’s features morph into excitement. He’s always wanted to meet Jungkook’s friends.

He walks into the apartment; smiling once he sees Taehyung who is still on the couch, head tilted back to face the ceiling, eyes closed.

“Hi!” Jimin greets, Jungkook following behind with a firm hand on his lower back. Taehyung jumps, sitting up straight. His eyes widen a fraction when he sees Jimin.

“H-Hi,” He responds.

“I’m Jimin,” Jimin introduces, walking over to the other man. Taehyung stands up, towering over him. He takes Jimin’s outstretched hand, dwarfing it in his own.

“I’m Taehyung. Jungkook and I went to school together. It’s nice to finally meet you,” He says politely, giving the both of them a small smile. There’s a little color to his face.

“It’s nice to meet you too. I’ve been bugging Jungkook to let me meet you guys soon,” Jimin says, sitting down on the sofa.

“Funny, he didn’t say anything,” Taehyung smiles teasingly, looking at Jungkook. His mood seems to have brightened a little.

They get along swimmingly. It’s no surprise. Jimin loves talking to people and so does Taehyung, the other man having a genuine interest in people’s lives and things that others would consider boring. Each time the conversation reaches an end, Jungkook hopes that Taehyung will leave. He doesn’t like sharing Jimin’s attention.

He doesn’t. Either one of them brings up something new that they both just so happen to be passionate about, like scented candles or a really nice park a few ways off of the highway. A rare gem, Taehyung calls it. Jimin agrees enthusiastically. Taehyung still seems a little mellow but engages in happy conversation.

It’s bitter for Jungkook.

Growing up, Taehyung was always seen as an underprivileged boy who was supposed to act as a model for him. His parents kept pointing it out – the way Taehyung always scored better, had stronger character and manners despite his lack of an aristocratic upbringing. 

He would’ve been even more disgruntled if Jimin’s hand wasn’t in his, small thumb swiping across his palm as he speaks. It’s like he knows how on edge Jungkook is.

“Oh, I almost forgot-“ Jimin says in the middle, hopping off the sofa and picking up his duffel bag. He takes out an envelope and walks back to them with a smile on his face. He takes a seat next to Jungkook who throws an arm around his waist, eager to keep him close.

“We got the tickets for our showcase next month,” Jimin says, smiling as he opens the envelope. “These aren’t live for sale yet but I got a few to give out to friends and stuff.” He completes, handing Jungkook one.

“I’m friends and stuff?” Jungkook teases, digging his fingers into Jimin’s ribs. He squirms, laughing.

“You’re just stuff,” He quips, kissing Jungkook’s nose. “I have a bunch of tickets. I’ve already given two to Jin and Hoseok.” Jimin says, smiling.

“Showcase?” Taehyung asks.

“I’m a dancer. Ballet,” Jimin answers.

Taehyung nods before his eyes widen for a second, as if in realization. It’s like he’s frozen. He looks to Jungkook. Before either of them can say anything, Jimin speaks.

“Would you like to come? I have lots of tickets,” Jimin says, handing Taehyung one. “It might sound really boring but I promise it’s not.”

Taehyung snaps out of whatever trance he was in, taking the ticket. “Sure. It doesn’t sound boring at all,” He answers, looking at Jungkook with an expression that he knows to be a signal that they need to talk.

They delve into normal chatter of that, deciding to order food and have some drinks. Taehyung puts on some movie and they settle down to eat and watch, Taehyung sitting alone on the loveseat and the two of them sitting together on the soft reclining chair. The lack of chatter during the movie from Taehyung is odd – the other man usually cracking jokes or offering his unsolicited opinions that Yoongi usually berates him for.

He’s hiding something.

It’s not just the sudden existential crisis. It’s been triggered by something. Taehyung is never one to be pessimistic.

“What are you thinking about?” Jimin asks into his ear. Jungkook hums noncommittally, running a hand underneath Jimin’s shirt, feeling his skin. The other man shivers at the cold, leaning back against his chest. Jungkook absentmindedly gropes at his torso, playing with the thin skin over his belly and ribs.

“You. Always about you,” Jungkook answers.

Jimin doesn’t respond although he can tell he’s smiling. He pulls Jungkook’s hand out from underneath his shirt, intertwining it with his.

The movie is over before he knows it. When Taehyung stands up to leave, he stumbles on his feet. Jimin turns the lights back on and he notices the 3 now empty bottles of soju next to where he was sitting.

“Careful!” Jimin warns, noticing the way he sways momentarily. Taehyung shakes his head, rubbing his hands over his face.

“I’m fine. I’ll head home.”

“Let me call you a taxi,” Jimin says and Jungkook feels a pulse of irritation flow through him at his concern.

“No, ‘s fine, I’ll drive.”

“Don’t be fucking stupid, Tae. Just crash here and leave in the morning,” Jungkook says.

“Okay,” Taehyung concedes without too much protest, already making his way to the guest bedroom from memory. He shuts the door behind him with a click.

The two of them stand there, looking at the closed door.

“He’s like you but also like a puppy,” Jimin says after a few seconds of silence. Jungkook drops kisses down the line of his neck, making Jimin shudder.

“I’m better,” He says immediately, feeling a little miffed when Jimin doesn’t say anything in response.

“Say it,” Jungkook prods, digging his fingers into Jimin’s waist.

“Hmm? I thought it was a rhetorical statement,” Jimin says absentmindedly, unsuccessfully attempting to pry Jungkook’s fingers from where they’re fixed at his sides.

“Say it, Jimin,” Jungkook says into his ear, needing to hear it so that the static between his ears will stop. He knows that if he doesn’t hear it, he won’t be able to sleep. He needs to hear it.

“You’re better,” Jimin finally responds. Jungkook smiles, biting at the shell of his ear.

“Let’s go to sleep.”

Jungkook fucks Jimin that night, nice and slow, with a hand over his mouth to keep him quiet as he pounds him into the mattress. He doesn’t want Taehyung hearing them, hearing Jimin when he’s like this. It has his blood pumping, knowing that if Jimin wants to talk it’ll be at his whim. Jimin can’t do anything on his own when Jungkook is around.

Jimin takes it beautifully, only soft whimpers leaving his mouth, half-muffled by the large hand on his lips as he’s speared open on Jungkook’s cock. He cums inside of him, Jimin onto the sheets and they take a shower and go to sleep. It’s oddly domestic, the finger-shaped marks on Jimin’s thighs, waist, and ass almost a permanent accessory.

The free reigns make Jungkook dizzy and Jimin is so delectably willing – his eagerness to please and offer himself on a silver platter everything he could ask for.

Jungkook’s eyes shoot open in the morning.

It isn’t because he’s been shaken awake, or heard a loud noise. It’s because the bed is empty. Jimin tends to shuffle closer in his sleep, such that they fall asleep together on the same pillow. He isn’t here.

Jungkook had grasped for him in his sleep, all roaming hands and nose searching for Jimin’s sweet scent. When his search turned up empty, the panic hit and coursed through him at breakneck speed. He’d never been yanked out of his dreams that fast, sitting up with wide eyes and a mind buzzing with alarm.

He yanks the blankets off, hopping off the bed and stalking toward the bedroom door. It’s unlocked. He locked it last night as he always does, thrice.

Jungkook opens the sleek door, the smell of pancakes and bacon the first thing that hits his nose. He can hear some soft conversation, a medley of words that blend together in his half-conscious state. He’s able to identify Jimin’s voice in the mix, following.

Jungkook comes face to face with Jimin sitting on the kitchen counter, dressed in his sweater and a loose pair of sweats. Taehyung is at the stove, preparing some strange looking pancakes. He doesn’t seem to be hungover at all, chatting happily with Jimin as he flips the pancakes on the griddle. Whatever seemed to have been plaguing him the previous night has disappeared, replaced with a boxy smile and sparkling eyes as he listens to Jimin talk about something.

“Jimin,” Jungkook says, voice rough with sleep.

Both of their heads snap to him, Jimin’s face softening as he sees him.

“Baby,” He says, hopping off the counter and walking over to him, pulling him into a hug. Jungkook presses his nose to his skin, breathing him in and feeling his heartbeat settle.

“I meant to be there when you woke up. Thought I’d come to get you once breakfast was done,” Jimin says softly, playing with the unruly hair at the base of his head, Jungkook holding him tight enough to cut off blood circulation.

He looks up from his shoulder to see Taehyung who smiles at him from the kitchen. “Morning, Gguk. Thought we’d surprise you with some dairy, sugar, and gluten-free pancakes.”

Jungkook’s arms are wrapped possessively around Jimin’s lower back, fingers pressing into the skin. He looks at Taehyung as he holds him, eyes burning.

The other man’s smile falters for a second before he returns his attention to the pan, using a spatula to add the pancake to an already tall pile. He hears the sizzle of more batter being poured into the hot pan as he leads Jimin into the bedroom.

“We can’t sleep again,” Jimin chides when Jungkook pulls him into bed, throwing the covers over them. “Tae’s making breakfast.”

“Tae?” Jungkook asks at the nickname.

“Yeah, he told me to call him that,” Jimin says. Jungkook is silent for a few seconds.

“I don’t care,” He declares, pulling Jimin flush against his chest. It’s his favorite position to sleep in, legs tangled and arms bracketing the smaller man. This way he’s able to feel and hear every single one of his movements, the soft noises Jimin sometimes makes in his sleep, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes, the little bit of drool that slips past his lax lips and onto Jungkook’s arm.

Each time, he’s reminded of how he belongs to him. He thinks about it often most nights, brushing his nose down Jimin’s neck, the scent of him more intoxicating than any other drug.

Just as he’s about to fall asleep, Jimin blows cold air onto his face, breath minty from his toothpaste.

“Wake up. I need to ask you something,” Jimin whispers, fingers dancing along Jungkook’s face. He grunts, eyes still closed.

“Are you free next Wednesday?” Jimin asks. Jungkook loves the sound of his voice, like silk, having hypnotized him the moment the sweet melody of it hit his ears. Sometimes he thinks about bottling up Jimin’s voice and drinking it up so that he can be the only one to hear it.

“Maybe,” Jungkook answers, pulling Jimin closer. Their noses brush.

“I want to do dinner with Jin Hyung and Hobi,” Jimin says, voice trailing off. “And you.” He adds.

Jungkook cracks open an eye, coming face to face with Jimin’s large puppy ones.

“Please?” Jimin asks, smoothing out Jungkook’s eyebrows gently with a finger.

“Once.” Jungkook concedes. Jimin cheers, snuggling into his chest.

When they manage to get out of bed, Taehyung is gone. The food is plated on the dining table, a cover placed on top of the meal to keep it warm. There isn’t a note.

-

Jungkook opens the door to his apartment and steps in, blowing some warm air into his hands to warm them up. He goes through the normal routine, taking off his shoes and shedding his coat right there in the doorway. He doesn’t bother to pick it up, knowing that either his maid or Jimin will later.

He walks into his bedroom, opening his cupboard, and pulling open the drawer with his family pictures. Jungkook picks up the framed picture from his brother’s wedding 8 years ago. It’s been maintained well, the picture in great condition, wooden frame still smooth and polished, glass unscratched. He spots himself standing next to his Hyung.

Jungkook looks like an idiot - trying to seem prim and proper in a well-tailored suit that still appeared loose on his skinny frame. He had that expression on his face, like he was trying to match up to his Hyung, even on his wedding day.

Jungkook’s brother stands tall and proud next to him, outshining him in every way possible. Flawless hair, domineering aura. He has a firm hand around Jungkook’s then-narrow shoulders, always being fond of his little brother. He was the type who was extremely likable – smooth, cool intellect, never one to stress, and takes life as it comes. Jungkook, on the other hand, kept to himself – quiet, small, dangerous, wide eyes with no soul. He doubts he ever had one.

His eyes travel to his sister-in-law, jaw clenching. A typical arranged marriage, set up by the families. He looks at her perfect smile, happily clutching the extravagant bouquet in her hands, luxurious dress trailing behind her like the wings of a swan.

As a bride should be, happiest on her wedding day.

Jungkook doesn’t realize how hard his thumbs were digging into the frame until he feels the glass crack, slicing into his thumb and drawing out thick pearls of blood. He barely feels it, the shard cutting deep, gaze hard as he bores his eyes into the image.

He hasn’t allowed himself to look for so long.

Jungkook snaps out of it when he feels his eyes sting, skull aching with a feeling he knows too well. He puts the picture back into the drawer – still stained with his fresh blood – and shuts the cupboard.

He fishes out the little vial in his back pocket, looking at it from all angles, watching the way the liquid flows in whatever direction he turns it in.

Control. He likes that.

Jungkook seats himself comfortably onto his bed, reaching for the syringes he’d bought beforehand. His veins are easy to spot, prominent as they are with how he works out. He fills the syringe with practiced movements, a tinge of nostalgia to it all.

Meth is often snorted or smoked. Jungkook prefers it injected straight into his blood.

That way, it hits him quicker and he feels it churning in his blood, in his brain, in the tips of his fingers and toes, burning at the back of his eyeballs and every muscle he moves.

The needle goes in smooth, piercing deftly into his skin, and for a simple second, barely a flicker – Jimin’s smiling face appears in his mind.

Would he be happy? How would he react if he saw Jungkook like this, doping himself up on drugs like the addicts everyone is warned not to be in their childhoods?

Jungkook, like a fool, thought for a second that Jimin would fix him. He thought that he’d be fine just having Jimin, having a simple happy relationship, possessive ticks and all. But he isn’t. Every single second feels like torture, indescribable anxiety prevalent in every facet of his being whenever they’re apart.

He’s getting increasingly addicted – needs to know where he is, what he’s doing, everything about him.

He’d had a dream the previous night about slicing Jimin open, right down his slim belly and shoving his head in so he could take a look, split open his brain so he could see his sweet thoughts running. Jungkook woke up, sweating but not too perturbed.

He needs Jimin all the time and all of this – the drugs, the exercise – they all feel like a placebo, just a momentary solution before he can keep him all to himself.

He feels like if Jimin is out of his sight, someone will take him away. That’s the root thought that echoes through him whenever they’re apart.

The euphoria Jungkook feels once the meth in his system is indescribable. He closes his eyes and tips his head back, a relieved shudder wracking through his body. He can feel his thoughts settling, body nice and cool where it was pulsing hot, a heavy exhale leaving his mouth.

The room is dark, thick curtains drawn. Not that it matters. It’s cloudy outside, one of those gloomy days. He can hear the clock ticking, much louder now.

He pulls the syringe out smoothly, eyeing the empty vial on his nightstand.

Hello, old friend.

-

“Are you nervous?” Jimin asks, hand in his. They’re seated in a Japanese restaurant, one that appears fancy but is still mass-market in his eyes and experiences. Jimin is smiling at him and Jungkook stares, wishing he could swallow him up.

“No.” He responds, honest. Hoseok is a moron and he’s already met him. Jin, on the other hand, is a little different. He wonders if he’ll remember him as the guy he caught staring at Jimin like he was an oasis in a scorching desert.

Still, he’s unmatched. Jimin is his and his alone.

“That’s good. They’re really nice people, I promise.” Jimin says, smiling. Their chairs are pressed together, Jimin’s thigh flush against his. Jungkook has his hand on it, squeezing the muscle.

The previous night, Jimin had danced for him.

It was something cute and silly, impromptu in his living room but Jungkook was entranced, watching his every move, gliding across the thick air, weightless and pure. Jungkook requested that he wear the leotard and tights, wanting nothing more than to fuck him in them, but Jimin declined, saying that he’ll have to wait for the show to see him wearing them.

“Oh look, they’re here!” Jimin says, voice squeaking cutely as it does when he’s excited.

Jungkook sees Hoseok first, clad in a yellow hoodie and jeans. His face is relaxed but hardens a little when he sees Jungkook. He doesn’t care, still staring at him with a smile, hand firm on Jimin’s thigh.

Jin enters after him, wearing a trench coat over a white sweater, black trousers pressed and smooth. He’s remarkably handsome with an aura that attracts attention, something that’s evident in the way a few of the other patrons of the restaurant glance twice.

Unlike Hoseok, who looks like he’s been gearing himself up for this, Jin seems confident, like this is business.

Jimin stands up once he sees them, a dazzling smile on his face.

“Hyung!” He calls out before walking over to them. Jungkook stays seated.

Hoseok smiles as he sees him, hugging him tight. Jimin goes to Jin next, throwing his arms around him and swaying with him.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you. You’re always at work.” Jungkook hears Jimin say as he pouts into Jin’s chest. The older man laughs.

“Sorry, Jimin. I made it today, right? It’s a special occasion.” Jin says, eyes flitting to Jungkook. They meet gazes, Jin’s unwavering against his.

They take their seats, Jungkook’s hand back on Jimin’s thigh in an instant. He looks to the two of them, lips spreading into a smile.

“It’s nice to finally meet you.” He says to Jin, who gives him a polite smile. “Lovely to see you again, Hoseok.” He adds, smiling wider at the way Hoseok’s face hardens.

“Likewise.” Jin says, flicking open the menu. “You’re the one who’s been keeping Jimin so busy, hmm?” He asks casually.

“Hyung.” Jimin complains. “I’ve been practicing really hard for the show. I told you on the phone too.” He pouts, although his eyes are fond.

“I am.” Jungkook responds.

They order soon enough, getting one of those platters meant for a group to share, with a little bit of everything. Jimin and Jin chat conversationally, Hoseok still a little quiet. He obviously dislikes Jungkook, speaking only when necessary.

“We were thinking of going to karaoke later, Jimin. Do you want to?” Hoseok asks, eyes flitting toward Jungkook for a second.

Jimin hums, thinking. “That sounds like fun! I’ve missed-“

“We can’t.” Jungkook answers. Hoseok’s posture stiffens. Jimin goes silent.

“Jimin wants to wake up early tomorrow to practice for his show. He needs to get his rest.” Jungkook elaborates.

“Ah, yes. That’s right. I completely forgot about that.” Jimin says softly.

“I think Jimin can decide for himself.” Jin counters, looking up at him. His hair is perfect, one of the black strands slipping down to fall over his forehead. “He’s had late nights and practice before too.”

“Just because he has, doesn’t mean he should.”

Jin looks at him, quirking an eyebrow. Jungkook meets the gaze, unfazed. Jimin laughs nervously.

“C’mon guys, we can decide later.” He insists, starting a new topic. He ropes Hoseok into it, the other man giving in and participating to make Jimin happy. Something about a new song.

Jungkook knows that Jin doesn’t like him. He might seem indifferent, a polite smile on his face but he can see it in his eyes – the inherent disapproval. He knows it runs deeper than what’s on the surface – he doesn’t give a shit about the tattoos. It’s more about the way he carries himself. Jin seems perceptive of people, just like Jungkook, like he can sniff out a trace of blood in a never-ending ocean.

They start dinner soon enough, the food much better than what Jungkook expected it would be. Jungkook watches as Jimin eats, cheeks bulging out cutely around mouthfuls of sushi. He was eating hesitantly but Jungkook convinced him that it’s healthy and that he needs to strengthen up for the performance. He’s like an obedient little boy, listening to whatever he’s told.

“You’re quiet.” Jin says in the middle, looking to Jungkook. “This is supposed to be a dinner for us to get to know each other.”

“I am getting to know you.” Jungkook responds, slicing into his Wagyu beef. “I’m more of a listener.”

“Are you?” Hoseok asks, sounding bitter. Jimin furrows his eyebrows at him, confused by his friend’s tone.

“So, Jungkook. What do you do?” Jin asks. Jungkook observes his smooth skin and manicured eyebrows, the way he seems to fit so seamlessly into their surroundings yet stick out at the same time. He knew a lot of people like him, has grown up alongside those whose identities lay in little more than a bank balance or an expensive car.

“I used to be in real estate. I own a few properties right now.” Jungkook answers. He’s had a bunch of the family properties instated in his name ever since he was a child. The rent flows into his bank account monthly, in addition to his hefty allowance and a trust fund from his family.

“Interesting. Which firm?” Jin asks conversationally.

“Jeon Realty.”

“Ah, I see.” Jin responds, smiling at the waitstaff when they arrive to clear their plates. “My father is friends with the chairman.” He continues.

Jungkook feels a wave of ice wash over him at his words although his face still maintains a façade of indifference.

“Jungkook is his son!” Jimin supplies excitedly, so unaware. His jaw clenches. The staff around them start to serve dessert, the ambient music of the restaurant playing in the background.

“Really?” Jin asks, seeming surprised. “I didn’t know he had another son. I thought he had two children, I’ve met them too.” He continues, appearing confused although Jungkook suspects that he’s fully aware of what he’s talking about.

He can feel his chest start to seize up inside of him, fingers clenching and unclenching. It’s only when Jimin rests a hand over his that realizes that he’s been digging his fingernails into his thigh.

“We don’t talk much anymore.” Jungkook answers.

Jin pauses mid-bite, raising an eyebrow.  Jimin looks at him too, seeming more concerned than inquisitive. The warm lights of the restaurant make his features appear even softer, more delicate. If Jungkook wasn’t on the brink of an episode, he’d be hypnotized all over again.

“It’s because he’s gay. Jungkook’s family isn’t too comfortable with that.” Jimin says for him, hand squeezing Jungkook’s as a silent message of comfort.

The action overwhelms him and for a second he’s flooded with an enormous wave of love and shock – at Jimin’s unhesitant loyalty even in the face of uncertainty, acting quickly to protect Jungkook from an uncomfortable situation. The gesture rings loud in his mind and he’s grateful, so grateful to have him. He’s reminded for the millionth time of what he’s doing here, why his world turned upside down in the first place.

Jin nods in understanding although it’s unconvincing. “That’s too bad.” He says, taking an artful bite of his ice cream.

They delve into normal chatter after that, talking about this and that. Jungkook can’t think much of it, mind focusing only on the interaction, the conversation. He’s overwhelmed, addiction reaching a notch higher and he wishes that he could stop time because there’s nothing he wants more than to be with Jimin, alone and interrupted. He wants to bite into his jugular, wrap his hands around his throat, press his thumb into his Adam’s apple. He wants to get lost in his lungs, lose himself to the rhythm of his breathing, the tune of his simple existence.

Jungkook detests his friends, feels an unparalleled sense of vitriol and hatred for them. Hoseok, because he’s a loser in denial but Jin even more so – he clearly knows something. Jungkook hates not knowing what’s going on around him. He’s unsure whether Jin is aware of who he is, his downfall, and his estrangement from his family. He’s unaware of whether he recognizes him from earlier, whether he sees Jungkook for the threat that he is.

The lack of control over the situation is what bothers him, eats at every fiber of his being, uncertainty creeping into his mind with every second of the dinner that passes.

Jin pays the bill before any of them can protest, flashing a sleek black credit card to the server. They’re out of the restaurant soon after that, standing beside each other on the sidewalk. It’s a chilly evening, the neon sign of the restaurant hanging over them, the bright light of it reflecting dully against the pavement.

“So, karaoke?” Hoseok asks, looking fondly at Jimin. Jungkook notices the way his eyes light up.

“I-“

“Jimin. Practice tomorrow.” Jungkook reminds, a hand settling on his lower back.

“Ah, that’s right. I don’t think I can, Hobi.” Jimin says, quietly. Jungkook wants Jimin home with him tonight.

“If Jungkook doesn’t want to come, he doesn’t have to.” Hoseok says swiftly. “We always go to karaoke. We won’t be out that late, you can still rest plenty.” He insists, a fondness in his eyes as he speaks to Jimin, like the smaller man is a child. He's talking to the wrong party. Jungkook is the one who makes the decisions here.

Jimin looks like he’s on the fence. His lower lip is caught between his teeth, mind lost in thought. Both Hoseok and Jin look at him, waiting for an answer.

Jungkook brings his hand up to rest it on the back of Jimin’s neck, squeezing. It’s a silent warning. Jin tracks the wordless exchange, eyes narrowing.

Jimin snaps out of thought, shaking his head sheepishly. “Maybe a-another time, guys. I’m a little sleepy.” He says. Jungkook's hand still sits on his neck, thumb brushing across the nape of it.

“Jimin-“ Hoseok insists.

“It’s fine, Hobi. There’s always another time.” Jin says. Jimin nods sheepishly. Jungkook smiles.

They part ways soon after that, Hoseok lingering a little.

On the way back home, Jimin speaks. He’s curled up in the passenger seat, vision drawn to the window as usual.

“You don’t like them.” He states.

“Nothing like that.” Jungkook answers, masking the truth. “I’m indifferent. I’ll tolerate them for you.”

“Will you tell me about your family?” Jimin asks and Jungkook’s grip on the steering wheel multiplies by tenfold.

“Maybe soon. It’s a difficult topic for me.” Jungkook responds. He feels Jimin’s small hand rest on his thigh.

“Okay. Whenever you’re ready.” Jimin says and he can hear his small smile in his candy voice, soft and wispy.

“Of course, baby.” Jungkook says. He intertwines their fingers, focusing on the road ahead.

Jimin does go to sleep pretty soon once they arrive home. He’s laying on Jungkook’s chest, head turned to the side, breath coming out in small puffs. Jungkook holds his finger in front of his nose to feel them, his soft breathing, thinking of Jimin’s lungs that work hard to keep him with him every day.

He can’t sleep yet. Not when he’s wondering who Jin is and how he knows his family.

Jungkook picks up Jimin’s phone, going to his Instagram. He notices a few products in his saved items list, so he buys all of them and charges them to his card. It’ll be a sweet surprise for his baby. He visits Jin’s profile, finding his full name.

Kim Seokjin

Huh. He types it into Google. He’s the son of a senator. That explains the connections. He seems to be more of the detached type, not one for politics but still well-settled in life. Makes his living in investments.

Jungkook scrolls through Jimin’s social media, coming to a stop when one of Taehyung’s posts pops up on his feed. He didn’t even know they followed each other. It’s a picture of a cup of tea with a sepia filter, the dark cloudy sky visible in the background. Jungkook reads the caption.

The start of everything yet the end of it all. How do we, as humans, differentiate between our choices? There’s always something at stake. New happiness yet the loss of something old and true.

He hasn’t spoken to Taehyung ever since that day he came over. The other man didn’t check in either. It’s odd for Taehyung, this distance.

He continues to scroll through Jimin’s feed absent-mindedly until he sees some messages roll into his inbox. He smiles, clicking them open.

10.01.21: 10:30 pm : Jin Hyung : Jimin, are you there?

10.01.21: 10:30 pm : Jin Hyung : We need to talk. It’s important.

Jungkook's fingers fly across the virtual keyboard, promptly sending back a response.

10.01.21: 10:32 pm : Me : Hi Hyung! I’m here.

10.01.21: 10:33 pm : Jin Hyung : That’s good. You must be tired. Is Jungkook with you?

10.01.21: 10:33 pm : Me : No, he’s out right now.

10.01.21: 10:34 pm : Jin Hyung : Good.

10.01.21: 10:34 pm : Jin Hyung : I’m just going to be honest.

10.01.21: 10:34 pm : Jin Hyung : I don’t think that he’s good for you.

Jungkook smiles.

10.01.21: 10:35 pm : Me : What do you mean?

10.01.21: 10:35 pm : Jin Hyung : There’s something off about him. Hoseok told me too. He was totally different with him than he was with you.

10.01.21: 10:35 pm : Jin Hyung : I’m not too sure about this but I think he’s been following you. I saw him earlier when were out, a few months ago. I didn’t remember at the start but I have now.

10.01.21: 10:36 pm : Jin Hyung : He isn’t giving you the full picture. I’ll do some digging and find out soon.  He’s dangerous.

Jungkook looks at Jimin’s sleeping face, lost in his happy dreams, so blissfully unaware. Another message rolls in.

10.01.21: 10:38 pm : Jin Hyung : Jimin, are you there? I only want you to be safe.

10.01.21: 10:38 pm : Me : I’m here, Hyung.

10.01.21: 10:38 pm : Me : You’re making me really sad

10.01.21: 10:39 pm : Jin Hyung : ???? No

10.01.21: 10:39 pm : Me : How come you don’t want me to be happy, Hyung?

10.01.21: 10:39 pm : Jin Hyung : Jimin? What’s going on?

10.01.21: 10:40 pm : Me : I’m tired of not being loved. Even Hoseok couldn’t love me.

10.01.21: 10:40 pm : Jin Hyung : Baby, that’s not true and you know it.

10.01.21: 10:41 pm : Me : I’m sick of being alone. Jungkook is what I need.

10.01.21: 10:41 pm : Jin Hyung : I don’t know what stories he’s planted in your head. You aren’t alone. He’s bad news, Min. We need to meet in person to talk about this.

10.01.21: 10:42 pm : Me : I don’t want to. You’ll make me sad. I don’t want to be sad near my performance. Or do you think that’s bad for me too?

10.01.21: 10:42 pm : Jin Hyung : Jimin, of course not…

10.01.21: 10:43 pm : Me : I don’t want to talk, Hyung. I’m happy right now.

10.01.21: 10:44 pm : Me : Please don’t talk to me about this again.

Jungkook watches as Jin’s typing bubble pops on and off the screen before it stops entirely. He erases the full conversation, setting Jimin’s phone down and holding him close, deciding to fall asleep too.

Underneath his clothes, the scar from the syringe pulses.

-

Jimin’s days get more and more practice-heavy. He spends more and more nights in the dance studio, feet aching whenever Jungkook picks him up in the early hours of the morning.

He’s excited yet nervous, an exhausted smile often what greets Jungkook these days. They don’t fuck that often as Jimin’s body can’t take it. It affects his balance and posture, thighs and ass aching with every little movement during practice.

Jungkook resigns to helping him relieve stress in other ways. He lets Jimin lazily suck him off as he checks his phone or jerks the smaller man off till he cries, sometimes fingering him to completion when he needs something extra. Jimin always lies pliant in his lap, face buried into his neck as Jungkook takes care of him.

He’s grown addicted to the feeling of Jimin’s ribs protruding against his hands, back arching when he cums, the ethereal face he makes committed to his memory – his pliant mouth dropped open, eyes fluttered closed, features contorted into bliss. All at Jungkook’s hands. He loves the feeling of Jimin’s soft thighs bracketing his head as he sucks him off or eats him out, relishing the way they quiver at the smallest of touches. His sensitive baby always cums so fast.

Jungkook is making progress. Jimin is currently making dinner – some sandwich he used to make for himself in secret when he was younger. He’d been feeling dizzy and decided that he needed some sugar. He’s making a monster cookie sandwich with ice cream, sprinkles, and cake. Jungkook can hear him hum happily in the kitchen as assembles it, marked thighs exposed.

He watches Jimin from where he stands on the balcony, smoking a cigarette. He smokes joints only when Jimin isn’t around and only out here so that the smell won’t linger. He has his phone pressed to his ear, the voice of the person on the other end of the line sounding out through the speaker.

“I tailed him two nights ago. Went to a gay club.”

Jungkook hums, interest piqued.

“Was he alone?”

“Yes, although he left with company.”

“Did you get pictures?”

“Yes. 3 suggestive, 5 explicit. He went on a bender, got smashed. Seems like he’s stressed about something.”

“Well done. His family?”

“Traditionalist Christians. A cousin went to conversion therapy. They were pretty close. They’re major shareholders of the entertainment company he choreographs most of his work for.”

“When can you drop off the pictures?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Perfect. The money will be wired to your account in a few hours.”

“I’ll see you.”

Jungkook hangs up the phone, looking up to see Jimin carefully arranging the food on the table with a smile. His ass peeks out from underneath Jungkook’s old t-shirt that he’s wearing where he bends over slightly, the slim line of the baby blue cotton panties he’d bought him visible.

Jungkook walks back into the house, smoothing a hand over the small of Jimin’s back. “Looks good.” He says, eyeing the food. There isn’t any whipped cream on his, some ripe looking strawberries instead. They’re bright red and rosy.

Jimin smiles, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

They eat quickly, Jimin almost devouring his meal, smiling happily as he eats all the chocolate. He’s always had a sweet tooth. It’s a pity that he rarely indulges himself.

“Happy?” Jungkook asks, fond.

“Mhmm,” Jimin answers, licking some of the sauce off his lips. Jungkook follows the movement, eyes dark. “I just wish it wasn’t so bad for me.”

“Dark chocolate is good for you,” Jungkook responds. “It helps improve blood flow.”

“Hmm, I s’pose,” Jimin answers. “I feel so much better. I honestly thought I was going to black out during practice tonight.”

Jungkook looks up, concerned. “You should’ve called me. I would’ve picked you up in an instant.”

“I didn’t want to bother you,” Jimin dismisses.

“You’re mine. I should look after what’s mine,” Jungkook answers, voice firm.

“You already do,” Jimin responds, smiling. “Sometimes I don’t know what makes you stay.” He continues, quieter.

Jungkook raises an inquisitive eyebrow.

“No one’s ever stayed before. No one’s ever wanted me as badly as you have. I feel like I look at life differently now.”

“I looked at life differently the moment I first saw you.”

Jimin looks up, sitting small in the dining chair. His cheeks are pink, eyes wide.

“I suppose I should just say it now,” Jungkook says, tracing his fingers over the surface of the table. The smaller man appears confused, sticky chocolate fingers still pressed to his lips.

“I love you,” Jungkook declares.

Jimin inhales sharply, looking at Jungkook with starry eyes. His pink hair is messy, some hints of black visible in the roots. He’s completely bare-faced at Jungkook’s insistence, pale skin unblemished and ruddy red.

“I-I-“

“I know you love me too. You said it in your sleep.” Jungkook continues. Jimin has this endearing habit of mumbling nonsense in his sleep, all cutely slurred syllables and lisps. He’s noticed that Jimin lisps sometimes when he’s nervous and it’s a habit that he wants to preserve, the child-likeness of it and vulnerability behind it all he wants.

Jimin is silent, face furiously red. Jungkook decides to take it up a notch, reveal something he’s been thinking about for a while now.

“You also called me Daddy.”

It happened once after they fucked, just when Jimin was about to fall asleep. A slip of the tongue, mumbled cutely when Jungkook wished him good night.

“No, n-no I didn’t-“ Jimin splutters out immediately, his desperation and panic all the confirmation Jungkook needs to hear.

“Baby loves his Daddy, hmmm?” Jungkook inquires teasingly, standing up and walking over to where Jimin sits. He seems to shrink in on himself, making himself smaller.

“Say it, sweetheart,” Jungkook prods, tilting Jimin’s face up with a finger under his chin. “Tell your Daddy how much you love him.”

Jimin’s face is hot with embarrassment, cherry lips opening and closing as he gears himself up to say it. By now he knows that there’ll be dire consequences if he doesn’t listen. There’s no other option for him than to give in. There’d been a day when he’d forgotten to call Jungkook before he slept which led to him having his little cock spanked purple. Jungkook still remembers the way he reached climax, overwhelming orgasm wracking through him at the final hit to his pink prick.

“I l-love you,” Jimin says, pretty eyes averted.

“Say it properly,” Jungkook prods, grip increasing on his chin.

Jimin meets his eyes.

“I love you, Daddy.”

Jungkook feels something awaken inside of him at his words, the power and implication behind them surging through him. He can feel his cock strain against the front of his sweatpants, hanging heavy.

“You’re my baby boy, right? Only mine?” Jungkook asks, mind dizzy with control. Jimin seems affected too and it’s evident through his reactions that this has been on his mind for a while but he’s always been too shy to say it. Jungkook will punish him for it later, for hiding things.

“Yes, Daddy.” Jimin responds unhesitatingly, pupils dilated.

Jungkook yanks him up and pulls him into a bruising kiss, hoisting him up into his arms. Jimin wraps his legs around his waist, kissing him back with equal fervor, a gasp leaving his mouth as he’s slammed against the wall.

Jungkook licks into his mouth, a hand reaching down to push his panties to the side. He doesn’t care, he’s going to fuck Jimin within an inch of his life tonight. Performance be damned.

“No, not inside, I h-have practice, the p-performance-“ Jimin tries pathetically.

“You’re mine. I can fuck you whenever I want.” Jungkook responds smoothly.

He prods a dry finger at his rim, Jimin moaning as Jungkook bites down onto his lip, hard enough to draw blood. The sounds he makes are obscene, to say the least.

 “’s dry, too dry-“ Jimin says, trying to pull away from Jungkook’s finger that’s circling his hole. Jungkook can feel the damp spot on his panties press into his t-shirt. “It’ll hurt.” Jimin whines, hands desperately clinging to Jungkook’s shoulders. He’s taking heaving breaths.

“Do you want it dry?” Jungkook asks, pressing kisses down Jimin’s neck, biting down onto his jugular. “Or wet and messy?” He continues, Jimin moaning as he sucks blossoms of purple across his throat.

“M-Messy-“ Jimin answers immediately, sighing as Jungkook walks them to the bedroom. It’s hurried now and he’s unable to take his time with him. He drenches his fingers in lube and starts jackhammering his fingers into Jimin’s pink hole, not stopping even when the other man says that he added three fingers too soon.

“S-Slow, please-“ He breathes out, small fists curling into the sheets. Jungkook feels like a rabid beast, wanting to snap his teeth in Jimin’s ear because he spoke.

“You can take it, right? Be a good baby for Daddy?” Jungkook asks, pupils barely visible in the haze of his eyes. They haven’t even bothered to undress.

“I c-can-“ Jimin insists, spreading his legs wider. Jungkook preps him quickly and efficiently, practiced scissoring of his hands, toying with his prostate on every upstroke. Jimin’s body seizes up, letting out choked little moans every time he’s impaled on Jungkook’s slender fingers.

Once he’s been stretched enough, Jungkook picks up the bottle of lube. Jimin is too fucked out, panting heavily on the bed. He’s unable to register the fact Jungkook has inserted the head of the bottle into his hole until he feels cold lube spill inside of him, straight from the bottle.

“W-What-“ Jimin gasps out, feeling the slick liquid coat his walls. Jungkook pulls the bottle out with a pop, using the remaining liquid to coat his cock.

There’s an obscene squelch when he pushes in, the slide so wet and messy that it makes them both groan. It feels even better with how tight Jimin is, how tight he always is, rim struggling to grip him with all of the slick. There’s lube clinging to his cheeks, to Jungkook’s cock as he pulls out, making their thighs sticky with it. It’s absolutely filthy, the air around them filled with wet noises as Jungkook starts to pounds into him.

“Feels like a pussy.” Jungkook laughs out, digging his fingers into Jimin’s thighs. “Baby’s got such a tight pussy for Daddy, right baby?”

Jimin looks absolutely mortified at his words, small hands coming up to cover his face. Jungkook pries them away, grabbing his wrists. It must be painful because Jimin winces.

“Tell me, baby. Why did you call me Daddy in your sleep?” Jungkook asks, pistoning his hips into Jimin’s hole. The smaller man doesn’t respond, still letting out choked moans as he’s fucked open, spread out for him.

Jungkook decidedly has enough of the position and pulls Jimin up with firm hands on the backs of his thighs. He holds him against the bedroom wall and starts to fuck him harder, Jimin moaning long and loud at the deeper angle.

“Answer me.” Jungkook prods, voice firm. His feet are planted on the ground, driving into Jimin with such force that he bounces up the wall with each thrust, all gentleness for the performance forgone. The lube is sticky and thick, making the slide easy and so excruciatingly good.

Jimin has his eyes screwed shut, mouth dropped open as he’s split open after so long, his thighs quivering as Jungkook holds him up. He watches him greedily, drinking in every little detail, and committing it to memory. He truly thinks that Jimin was born to be fucked – so unfathomably beautiful, like something out of a fairy tale.

“You j-just do everything f-for me, must’ve been a-an accident,” Jimin responds shakily, letting out a high-pitched moan as Jungkook jabs into his prostate especially hard. Jungkook looks feral, pounding into him with such fervor that Jimin’s hips must ache from it.

“Do you like it?” Jungkook asks. “Do you like being a dumb little baby for me? Can’t do anything except take Daddy’s cock?” He says, punctuating each question with an especially hard thrust. The power trip is insane. He does make Jimin’s decisions for him – what he eats, when he sleeps, what he does in his free time.

Jimin nods although Jungkook isn’t sure he really knows what he’s agreeing to. His stubby nails are blunt against his shoulders, nipples raw and red where they rub against Jungkook’s chest with each slam of his hips.

“You’re gonna feel me tomorrow when you dance like a pretty little fairy.” Jungkook spits out, feeling a deep satisfaction within him as the words leave his mouth. “You’re gonna remember me, remember how Daddy filled up your cunt, ruined it just the night before.”

Jimin releases messily at his words, a high-pitched whine leaving his lips, cock rubbed raw against Jungkook’s stomach. He shudders with every wave of his orgasm, small frame spasming with nowhere to go. His head lolls, soft exhales punched out of him as Jungkook continues to fuck him, teeth gritted and eyes dark.

“I love you, Jimin.” Jungkook grits out, hopelessly in love, watching as Jimin’s eyes are unable to focus on anything, lips lax and bitten raw. The dancer stays silent, resigned to being held up against the wall, taking Jungkook’s cock.

“Say it back.” Jungkook almost growls, sure that there’ll be marks from the way he’s digging his nails into his thighs.

“I l-love you.” Jimin admits, voice soft and meek. Jungkook fucks up into him a few more times before he cums so hard he almost blacks out, spilling deep inside of Jimin who sits still in his arms, like a ragdoll.

After Jungkook settles his breathing, he pulls out and sets Jimin back down onto the floor, immediately steadying him with firm hands on his hips. He watches the way a sticky mixture of cum and lube is quick to trickle obscenely down Jimin’s thighs, slowly forming a small puddle on the tiled floor. He gathers some of it in his hand, pushing it back into his hole with two fingers. Jimin hisses, rim raw and over-sensitive.

“You wanna take a bath?” Jungkook asks, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Jimin nods, tilting his head to the side as Jungkook kisses down his neck, touch tender.

It’s when they’re in the tub that Jungkook notices that Jimin’s being completely silent, lying back against his chest in the rose-scented bubble bath. His breathing is short too, face blank as Jungkook rubs the soap into his skin.

Jungkook grips his face with two fingers and turns it toward his. Jimin doesn’t meet Jungkook’s eyes, face dull.

Jimin tilts his head away when he leans in, dodging the kiss Jungkook attempts to plant on his lips. It lands on his soft cheek instead.

“Baby?” Jungkook asks, hand rubbing Jimin’s tummy. He traces the lines of his abs, feeling the soft skin. “What’s wrong?” He asks.

“We weren’t supposed to have sex until after my performance.” Jimin says, voice quiet. “It’s only a week away.”

“Jimin-“

“I said no, at first. Why didn’t you stop?” Jimin asks. “You know how important this is to me.”

“Don’t you think I know what’s best for you?” Jungkook shoots back, voice sharp, tone reprimanding. This sudden change of the atmosphere is jarring to the say least. He can feel Jimin stiffen where he sits in his arms. “We just told each other that we’re in love and this is what you decide to talk about?”

Jimin is quiet.

“I drive you to practice. I give you massages and look after you. I buy you everything you could ever want. I’ll do anything for you.” Jungkook says, knowing that he’s playing with Jimin’s feelings like a violin. “It’s a pity that you don’t feel the same way about me.”

“That’s not true!” Jimin insists, turning slightly to face him. “I do feel that way about you. I love you.”

“Then why are you upset with me for wanting to make love?” Jungkook demands. Jimin’s eyes soften, marred with sadness.

“No, baby, of course not. I’m not upset with you, I’m sorry-“ Jimin rushes out, holding Jungkook’s face in his hands. He kisses him gently. “I don’t know what I was saying, I’m sorry.”

“I would never hurt you, Jimin.” Jungkook says. “I know what’s best for you. I look after you.”

“I know, sweetheart, I know.” Jimin says softly, reaching down into the water to intertwine their fingers where they lie on his flat stomach. Jungkook presses a kiss to the side of his head, eyes dark.

They go to sleep soon after they wash up and he doesn’t hear Jimin complain even as he limps slightly, wincing as he climbs up the stairs to work when Jungkook drops him off the next morning.

-

It’s cold outside. Jungkook hates the cold.

Or he doesn’t. He’s not too sure. Either way, it’s cold out. His day was spent the way it usually is – drop Jimin to work and come back home, only to pick him up later or stop by in the middle to check on him.

Today, however, there’s something different in his schedule. Something he’s been looking forward to.

Jungkook sits relaxed on his sofa, looking at the printed out pictures in his hand. It’s a gloomy afternoon and he’d just eaten lunch, having received the message from Jimin that he’d eaten too.

He looks at the first picture, tracing his fingers along the edge of it – Hoseok dancing with some twink in a gay club, hands on his waist. The strobe lights reflect over his shiny brown hair, eyes hazy with alcohol. It’s extremely suggestive, the touch not at all platonic.

He takes a look at the next picture, one of Hoseok getting into a taxi with the same man. Jungkook observes his companion for the night, noticing with a smirk his similarities to Jimin. They have a similar height and build except this guy is nothing like Jimin – wearing skimpy clothes with poorly dyed hair. Nothing like his angel. They share similar features, the man’s nose, and lips vaguely similar to his baby’s.

The rest is a series of them having sex, taken through a bedroom window. Jungkook might’ve underpaid the investigator. He looks at shots of Hoseok fucking into the small man, touches almost tender.

 He must’ve been imagining it was Jimin.

Hoseok’s rejection of Jimin makes sense now. Closeted, deeply so, wanting what he can’t have. He’s probably always liked Jimin, if the series of pictures the investigator has sent him consistently over the past few weeks count for anything. Hoseok hooks up with guys in secret, and they almost always bear some resemblance to Jimin. All small, cute men who dress in pastels with pretty smiles and pretty hair.

Coward, Jungkook thinks.

He’s been sleeping around more often now. Probably because Jimin is taken, forced to imagine how well he’s looked after whenever he sees Jungkook’s marks on his dear friend.

Jungkook huffs a laugh, nostrils still tingling from the hit he took earlier.

He gathers the images and puts them into the large, brown envelope he’d specially procured for this euphoric moment. He handles it carefully with his gloves so as to not leave any fingerprints, carefully securing it with tape. He double-checks that the address on the envelope is correct.

Jungkook drops it off into the mailbox on his way to pick up Jimin that evening, a smile on his face.

-

Jungkook doesn’t belong here.

It’s the first thing he realizes as he stands outside the venue for Jimin’s performance. Everyone here is dressed in formal shirts and pants, the occasional suit jacket and tie visible too. All excited parents, siblings, loved ones, friends, patrons of the industry, critics, and talent agents. A delightful mix of the rich and pompous.

Nobody like Jungkook. He’s wearing his standard black t-shirt and jeans with boots, inked arms on display. He pretends not to feel the curious eyes on him, some wary and suspicious.

It’s a beautiful venue, a towering structure of white marble, constructed in the style of Grecian architecture. There used to be a time where Jungkook would study the different types of architecture almost religiously in an attempt to show up his brother, spending hours in the family library at home. That dream has long since expired, but the knowledge he gained sometimes does prove to be helpful.

 He checks his phone, noticing that it’s been fifteen minutes since he’d sent his text to Jimin stating that he had arrived. He usually gives him not more than five minutes to answer his messages but decides to let it go since his baby might be busy. He imagines him getting all dolled up, sparkly make-up, and tight costume making him look even more ethereal than he already is.

The chatter of the people around him is prominent in the air, an excited buzz for the performance permeating through the venue. Jungkook looks up momentarily just as he sees someone enter the venue. He looks twice before his mind starts to run, recognizing the person immediately.

It’s Taehyung.

But he doesn’t look like Taehyung. Jungkook almost didn’t recognize him had his eyes not caught the smooth slope of his prominent nose and sharpness of his feline features. He’s wearing a crisp white dress shirt and black pants, usually unruly hair combed back neatly. The sleeves of the shirt hide his tattoos, only slivers of them visible underneath the cuffs.

Most importantly, Jungkook’s eyes catch the massive bouquet of flowers in his arms. It’s colorful, a mix of purples, pinks, and reds. All of Jimin’s favorite colors.

Jungkook walks up to him, gait slow and relaxed although his mind is running at a million miles an hour. He hasn’t spoken to Taehyung in a while, not properly at least. They’ve spoken over text but the conversations have always been choppy and short, not at all like they usually are with Taehyung. They lack the warmth and the usual trace of humor. He knows that he’s been meeting Yoongi and Namjoon so he’s a little stuck on what’s going on between them.

“Taehyung.” Jungkook says as he stops before him, effectively announcing his presence. Taehyung jumps, turning around to face him. He’s alarmingly handsome tonight, sharp features coming to the forefront now that his hair is off his face. He looks like someone distinguished.

“Jungkook. Hey.” Taehyung responds, seeming a little unnerved.

“What’s up? What are you doing here?” Jungkook asks, noticing the way Taehyung’s long fingers fiddle with where he holds the bouquet.

“Jimin’s performance.” Taehyung responds. “He invited me, remember?”

“That he did.” Jungkook answers. He looks him up and down. “You’ve put in some effort.”

“It’s a performance. Thought I’d look the part.”

“And what part are you trying to fit into by buying my boyfriend flowers?” Jungkook asks, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s his first solo segment. Flowers are customary.” Taehyung responds. His tone is smooth but there’s an undertone to it, like he’s nervous about something.

“Where’ve you been, Tae?” Jungkook finds himself asking.

“I’ve been busy, Gguk.” He sighs. “I know we haven’t spoken in a while.”

Jungkook stares, scrutinizing. Although Taehyung looks nervous, he seems to be a lot better. There are no more bags underneath his eyes, skin smooth and healthy. It’s been over a month since he’d last seen him properly and the difference is stark.

Before they can continue the conversation, the doors open.

They take their seats, Taehyung’s ticket for the row behind him. Jungkook spots Jin across the large hall, sitting down with a few others that he vaguely recognizes from Jimin’s social media. Hoseok is nowhere to be seen.

The performance starts, the ambient lights of the hall dimming, the iridescent spotlight on the introductory performer the only source of light in the large space. The music feels like a beginning, like the origin of a tale, reflected through the emotion and grace in the way the performers after her glide across the stage. The music is almost foreboding, worrisome.

To a common eye, this performance wouldn’t make sense. But Jungkook, he understands. He’s able to feel the story put forth through the music, lights, and every single move – every delicate curve of a wrist and spin across the stage. The music slowly but steadily increases in pace and intensity, the violins of the orchestra working to put forth a maddening tune.

Coming of age, the loss of innocence.

It’s the type of performance where you aren’t sure whether it’s been hours or barely a few minutes, the audience drawn into the tale so deeply that all time seems to meld into a vacuum. Jungkook follows the story, hearing it echo in his heart, reverberating through him as his eyes search for his love.

Jimin appears at the climax of the sorrowful ballad.

The moment he sets foot on stage, Jungkook recognizes him. It’s like the breath has been stolen out of his lungs, a pair of sharp claws sunk into his chest and just holding, holding his heart so it can’t beat, just still.

The music fades for him, a dull ringing in his ears being all that he can feel as his Jimin, as always, holds the entirety of his attention in the palm of his small hand.

Jimin dancing is not the same Jimin he knows and loves every day.

He’s like a vixen, soaring across the stage with an undulated charisma and grace, unrivaled and unmatched by everyone else. His face is like porcelain, delicate, every inch of him contorted to fit the pretty picture of grace. He dances like gravity is unknown to him, like he holds the very center of it within his chest, deep within the fragile bones of his ribs.

He’s like a Phoenix, rising from the ashes.

Jimin’s pretty face is dusted artfully with a deep sort of pink, not an innocent blush, but one that embodies maturity and confidence, glitter splashed across his eyes, streaks of gold. Jungkook has never seen Jimin in his costume and he understands why – the surprise enhances the chaos. He breathes in all of it - the way his ribs protrude against the tight fabric as his back arches during a high in the tune, the disciplined pointe of his toes, the flexibility of his muscles as they twist and turn in a relentless symphony with the music.

The audience is eerily silent, completely enraptured.

Jimin is playing a character that is mature, corrupted. But Jungkook knows that he’s anything but. He’s taken Jimin in more ways than one but his mind is what still remains pure, untouched, and willing. So easy to love, so quick to trust.

Jungkook’s fingers itch. The ringing in his ears gets louder, the music inaudible to him now. There’s sweat gathering at his temples, heart beating so fast he can almost feel it pulsing through his chest, sure that the elderly woman seated next to him must hear it too.

Jimin’s on stage. Everybody can see him. They are watching him, consuming his art.

Jungkook’s fingernails dig into his palm, not stopping even when he feels them become wet with blood.

They are watching as he dances, tells a story. He’s up there, so far away from Jungkook.

As these thoughts flow through Jungkook, Jimin continues to dance, stealing every little breath out of his lungs. It’s maddening and Jungkook can almost feel every touch of Jimin’s small feet against the stage floor, his graceful fingers slicing through the air.

There’s a deep-rooted anxiety thrumming through him, crawling up his throat, ice cold. Everybody here wants him. They want him.

He’s mine. Only mine

They’ll take him away.

His feet ache. He wants to get up from his seat, run up to the stage and grab him, take him back home, where they’re safe from prying eyes.

How could I let his happen?

Before Jungkook realizes it, Jimin’s segment is over. He leaves the stage as smoothly as he arrived, a new group of dancers taking his place for the next act of the story.

The world slowly comes back to him, in sounds, colors, and touch. He’s slowly reacquainted with the presence of the others, with the cool air conditioning of the hall. The music starts to play once more, the pressure between his ears and the itch underneath his skin reducing to a dull buzz as the minutes go by. His mind settles, albeit slowly.

The rest of the performance is a blur. Jungkook has lost interest. The well of it ran dry with Jimin’s exit from the stage, to behind those thick curtains that he wants to traverse through so badly. He wants to be with him, touch him, breathe him in, feel his heartbeat thrum in his own veins.

The lights turn on and the curtains open, the entire group of performers on the stage. The auditorium is painted golden, the thunderous applause from the audience deafening. A standing ovation, unsurprisingly.

Jimin stands in the center, pink-cheeked and glowing – just as he was when Jungkook saw him months ago. He bows, smiling brightly at the way the applause increases when he does.

Jimin’s eyes search the audience before they land on Jungkook. It’s like time stops for him. Jimin smiles wider, seemingly overcome with joy, eyes glistening with happy tears. Jungkook smiles back, a little sated at seeing Jimin’s pure, unbridled happiness directed toward him.

He waits outside the venue after the performance, smoking a cigarette to help numb his nerves. There are people all around them and it’s packed, the area outside the hall. Everybody seems happy and the air is charged, like it is when you come out of an extremely immersive movie and need to touch back down onto earth after. The bright lights are almost disorienting. A few of the people look at him disdainfully at the harsh smell of the cigarette smoke but he pays them no mind, eyes trained on the door through which the performers are supposed to exit.

Jimin eventually shows up, wearing a lavender sweater and jeans. He spots Jin first, who approaches him with a wide smile, and a group of who Jungkook recognizes to be Jimin’s other friends. They talk for a while, all of them exchanging hugs and obviously showering Jimin with well-deserved compliments. He eyes all of the friendly hands that roam his body, some on his shoulder, some on his lower back, some on his waist, Jimin blooming underneath each one.

“Jungkook?” A familiar voice asks from behind him.

He turns around to see Seohyun. She’s staring at him, clearly wary. Jungkook didn’t notice her in the performance.

“Seohyun. Hello.”

“What are you doing here?” She asks, tone apprehensive. He can see traces of leftover makeup across her cheekbones, face gaunt where it used to be soft and round when they were together.

“I believe there was a performance.” Jungkook responds, face blank. Her eyes are sharp, scrutinizing.

“It’s been a year. I don’t know what you expect but it’s over between us. I thought I made it clear that I never want to-“

“I’m not here for you.” Jungkook says, effectively cutting her off. Her delicate features morph into confusion.

“What do you mean?” She asks.

Jungkook looks to Jimin and she follows his trail of vision, face paling once it lands on the dancer. She whips her head to him, eyes fiery with rage and disbelief.

“No. Don’t you dare. Not him.” She spits, sounding protective. There isn't a shred of jealousy.

“Dare I what?”

“You’re not good enough for Jimin. He deserves someone better, not you.” She says sharply. If only she could see the way Jimin clings to him, loves him like he holds the key to his entire existence. Jungkook loves Jimin enough for a few lifetimes but Jimin depends on him, needs him to know he's loved and valued. How the people around him have failed him.

“He needs me.” Jungkook responds casually although the words ring true. “Just because I couldn’t love you doesn’t mean I can’t love him.”

“You aren’t capable of love.” She responds smoothly and he's genuinely impressed that she's grown from the overly subservient person she used to be back then, ready to do anything to be underneath Jungkook's attention. The conversation is interrupted as some of Seohyun’s friends call for her, urging her to follow them into a taxi. They’re obviously going out to celebrate.

She looks terribly conflicted, like she’s not sure whether she should stay or leave. Her friends yell once more and she closes her eyes shut, taking a deep breath.

“Stay away from Jimin. I have to leave, but this isn’t over.” She says, eyes flitting to Jimin. 

“Have fun.”

“Fuck you.” She spits with venom and Jungkook smiles, watching as she follows her friends.

“That looked nasty.” Taehyung says, suddenly materializing out of thin air.

Jungkook huffs a laugh. “She’s funny. Thought I was here for her.”

Taehyung hums. They both watch as Jimin eventually hugs Jin and the others goodbye. The taller man starts to walk away, his eyes catching Jungkook’s for a second. There’s a slight falter to his steps and his face hardens, but he continues down his path.

Jimin doesn’t take long to spot them, running into Jungkook’s arms. He’s still high off of the performance, energy contagious and Jungkook breathes him in, arms wrapping around him tightly. He feels the anxiety in his mind from being apart for so long start to settle, large hand spanning across the small of his back.

“Did you like it?” Jimin asks into his ear, voice soft with hope.

“I loved it. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

“That’s because I was the only one on stage.” Jimin teases, pulling back. He turns to Taehyung, eyes wide with surprise.

“You made it! I thought you couldn’t come!” Jimin exclaims before hugging him too. Taehyung’s cheeks go pink at the contact but he hugs him back regardless. Jungkook’s eyes narrow.

“Did you buy me flowers?” Jimin asks with wide eyes, looking at the bouquet in his arms. Taehyung doesn’t respond for a second. He looks up, eyes meeting Jungkook’s stone gaze.

“Uh, no. They’re from Jungkook. I was just holding them.” Taehyung responds, the lie rolling off his tongue. He hands the bouquet to Jimin, the smaller man taking it with sparkling eyes.

“Baby, you didn’t have to! They’re so beautiful.” Jimin says with wonder, looking at all of the colors. Jungkook smiles although it feels off, weird on his face.

 “Shall we go home?” Jungkook asks, his arm firm around Jimin’s waist. The dancer still has his button nose buried in the flowers, cheeks pink as he breathes in their sweet scent. Taehyung watches, gaze soft. The smaller man nods.

They walk toward the street, Jungkook looking for a taxi to flag down.

“Where’s your car?” Taehyung asks. Jimin’s not focused on the conversation, fingers idly playing with Jungkook’s.

“Servicing.” He responds. “I’ll collect it tomorrow.”

“I’ll drive you guys home.” Taehyung offers.

“It’s fine.”

“We might not have spoken for a while but I’m still your best friend.” Taehyung says softly.

He eventually concedes, the three of them walking toward Taehyung’s car that’s parked down the street. Jimin sits in the back, Jungkook in the passenger seat. Taehyung puts the car in gear and they start traveling down the road.

It’s a quiet ride save for Jimin’s chatter, just the whirr of the engine audible and the muted sounds of traffic through the windows.

Taehyung doesn’t opt for any music during the ride which in itself confirms his suspicions. Taehyung is lost in thought and he’s worried about something, unconsciously licking his lips as he navigates his way through the traffic, slender fingers gripping the steering wheel.

Jimin raves in the backseat about the performance, still giddy off of it, talking about how nervous he was, how being up there is the best feeling he’s ever known. Jungkook listens, watching Jimin through the rearview mirror, sitting small and clean-faced in the backseat, glowing from happiness.

He feels that wave of love wash over him again, the knowledge that Jimin is his, barely a few feet away making his head spin.

He’s unable to stop himself. Jungkook turns around in his seat, surging forward to wordlessly pull Jimin into a bruising kiss, all teeth, and tongue. Jimin squeaks in his surprise, cut off mid-sentence. It’s a little clumsy given the angle and Jungkook leaning over from the front seat, but Jimin drowns it in regardless, kissing him back with a soft hand on his cheek. They make out for what feels like forever, the sounds filthy and obscene to say the least, Jimin’s small gasps and breaths seeming loud in the quiet space of the car, uncaring of the third presence in the vehicle.

Taehyung is silent and still next to them, eyes trained on the road ahead.

When Jungkook pulls away, Jimin seems dazed.

He sits back in the passenger seat, buckling himself back in. He chances a look at his best friend, whose face is like marble, still focused on driving. He doesn’t say anything.

They arrive soon, now outside Jungkook’s towering apartment building. There’s a cold breeze in the air, almost foreboding.

“I’ll see you guys later. Have a nice night.” Taehyung says.

Jungkook ignores him, looking to Jimin. “Baby, why don’t you head on upstairs? I need to have a quick chat with Taehyung. You know the code to the door.”

The smaller man looks unsure. “I’ll just wait outside. Wanna go up with you.”

“Go upstairs, sweetheart. I’ll come soon. It’s cold out.” Jungkook says, leaving no room for negotiation. Taehyung is silent next to him.

“Okay…” Jimin says softly. “Good night, Taehyung. Thank you for coming.” He greets before heading into the building. Jungkook watches as he disappears, eyes drinking in the view of him, his graceful steps and soft hair, the fact that even the way he gently pushes the button to call the elevator is endearing. He commits it all to memory, breathing in every aspect of him.

When he sees the elevator doors shut, Jungkook turns to Taehyung.

“Out with it.” Jungkook says, voice blank.

“What?” Taehyung responds.

“What are you hiding from me? You’re doing a piss-poor job.”

Taehyung is silent. Jungkook sighs, frustrated.

“You’ve been meeting the others but not me. You’re acting weird about my relationship with Jimin. You seem different and you tiptoe around me.”

“We are concerned. All of us.” Taehyung responds, sounding tired. “You really think I didn’t recognize Jimin to be that person you were staring at on Seohyun’s Instagram? He seemed familiar at first but it clicked for me later.”

Jungkook stares.

“What are you doing, Gguk?” Taehyung asks. “You were out of the house for days, and suddenly showed up when he was about to get mugged? He lives so far away from you, what were you even doing there?”

“What are you implying?”

“I’m not implying anything. Answer the questions.”

Jungkook sighs.

“It was just a coincidence. He doesn’t live too far from Yoongi. There’s a restaurant nearby that I like and I thought I’d grab dinner. That’s when I saw someone following him. I didn’t even recognize him at the start.” He says, answering the question.

Taehyung eyes him, scrutinizing.

“You saw me sitting alone at that restaurant. I’ve been going out alone a bunch. He just happened to be there.” Jungkook elaborates.

The other man looks at him, like he’s unsure of what to say, whether to take his words for truth.

“Okay. I’ll believe you.” Taehyung sighs, although it isn’t convincing in the least. “Goodnight.”

“No. That isn’t it, Taehyung. You’re a shit liar. What aren’t you telling me? I know that there’s something else.”

Taehyung looks more distraught at his words than Jungkook has ever seen him before. His fingers keep gripping and releasing the steering wheel, thick brows furrowed.

“Just fucking tell me.” Jungkook says.

“I’m going to college.” Taehyung says, words rushed out with a sense of urgency, probably louder than he intends. He looks to Jungkook, jaw clenched. “I applied and I got in. I start next Spring. University of Tokyo.”

Jungkook is dumbfounded although he keeps his face blank, staring at Taehyung.

“I was busy back then because I was studying too. I had less time for shifts which was why money was tight. I wanted it so bad, Gguk. I’m fucking sick of living like this.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” Jungkook asks. But he knows the answer. He knows that it’s because Taehyung didn’t want him to feel bad, to deliver another sickening blow to his ego. Jungkook has no ambitions, lost whatever he had of it years ago. Progression in life is a sensitive topic for him and everyone around him knows this.

“I—“

“There’s something more, isn’t there?” Jungkook prods. There’s no way Taehyung would’ve been able to keep this to himself. He’s waiting for the plug to be pulled, the bucket of ice to be dunked over his head. The expression on Taehyung’s face should be framed, the way it pales at his words a telltale sign.

“Fucking say it.”

“Just remember that I had no choice.”

“I doubt that, but go on.” Jungkook says, heart beating fast. He can feel the fear buzzing underneath his skin, jaw clenched so hard it’s starting to hurt.

“Your family, they’re sponsoring it - my education and expenses.”

Jungkook’s face stays blank, although his stomach drops to the ground. The words wash over him like a slow poison and he imagines reaching over and strangling Taehyung till he turns purple, smashing his head into the steering wheel over and over until there’s nothing left. The dull ringing in his ears is back.

“What?” Is all he manages to say.

“I g-got in, but I couldn’t afford it. That’s why I was so depressed a while ago.” Taehyung explains, seeming distraught. “Your father called me the day after I stayed at yours.”

My father, Jungkook thinks.

His father, who spits on Jungkook’s entire existence. His father, who has always preferred his Hyung over him. His father, who always wished Taehyung was his son.

“He’d heard somehow, I have no clue how. He asked to meet and I said yes.”

His words repeat themselves in Jungkook’s mind, a cloudy haze.

“He told me that he’d cover it. Everything – my food, tuition, rent, airfare.”

“What else did he say?” Jungkook asks, digging his own grave. He can hear his own voice distantly in his head, echoing dully, like he’s removed from the conversation. He knows his father. He knows that he wouldn’t have missed the chance to say more, drive the dagger in deeper.

“Jungkook-“ Hearing Taehyung say his name makes him nauseous and it burns, like acid against his ears.

“Tell me every single word or I’ll never speak to you again.” Jungkook grits out.  “Exactly what he fucking said, Taehyung.”

Taehyung looks distraught, face ridden with conflict.

“He said that-“ He starts. “He said that he didn’t w-want to see you ruin two lives and that he’d always had high expectations for me.” Taehyung says, features pained, as if it physically hurts him to say the words.

Jungkook doesn’t feel it. It’s a numb sort of anger, sort of heartbreak.

Ruin two lives

High expectations for Taehyung

Taehyung, the son I’ve always wanted. Strong character, that boy

The noose is tight around his neck, the rough jute of the rope chafing his skin, the chair placed underneath his feet for support kicked to the ground. He can almost see it – his family and Taehyung, perhaps even Namjoon and Yoongi, laughing as he breathes his last, face turning blue. He imagines that the last thing he’d see would be Jimin.

Or maybe not. Jimin would be hung with him.

“Jungkook. You know I didn’t agree with him, right? I told him that I was still your best friend, I tried to convince him-“

He stays silent.

“I couldn’t fucking say no. I couldn’t and I’m sorry. I wanted it so bad.” Taehyung breathes out, eyes brimming with emotion. “It’s my life, Gguk.”

He feels like he’s drowning, nose underwater, lungs full of a thick, murky, opaque liquid – every breath like sandpaper.

“This was my only way out, I had to take it-“

There’s a click in his head, almost imperceptible. For a second, he thinks he’s broken, that he’s finally cracked. Perhaps the person he’s always been, always supposed to become has risen to the surface.

“Shut up.” Jungkook responds finally. He meets Taehyung’s eyes. “Just shut the fuck up.”

His best friend goes silent, staring at him.

“Do you think I care about this stuff? I don’t care about that asshole.” Jungkook says, voice calm and casual.

“Jungkook-“ Taehyung starts.

“You want a new shot at life. I don’t blame you. We all want one, don’t we?” His mind is blank now, eerily silent where thoughts were previously flowing like a whirlwind.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Jungkook smiles. “I would’ve taken it if I was you.”

“I tried to tell him-“

“I don’t give a fucking shit about what you tried to do, Taehyung. It doesn’t matter.” Jungkook says, smiling wider.

“I’ll turn it down if you want me to.” Taehyung suddenly says. He stares, face blank.

“I’ll turn it down. I won’t think twice. You’re my best friend.” He continues and Jungkook wants to laugh, cackle in fact. Turn it down? The choice to turn down what his own family has offered him on a silver platter, the kindness and thoughtfulness that was never extended to him? The fucking privilege.

“Don’t patronize me. And don’t turn it down.” Jungkook says. “I don’t want you fucking crying to me later.”

“I wasn’t-“

“I’m happy for you, Tae. Congratulations.”

With that, he gets out of the car and shuts the door behind him. He hears Taehyung call for him but doesn’t turn around, heading straight for the elevator, stance calm and poised. The doors open and he enters, pressing the button for the 20^th floor with practiced ease.

His face is blank, body numb. He can’t feel his fingers. He can’t feel it when he raises his eyebrows or opens his mouth or pinches at his inked skin. The elevator whirs softly, the sound of it echoing in Jungkook’s head, getting louder and louder.

Something’s building inside of him.

Jungkook goes through the motions, steps out of the elevator, and walks toward his door, the only one on the wide floor. He keys in the code and opens it, noticing first how dark and silent it is. Jimin usually turns the lights on, sometimes playing some music.

He steps out of his shoes and walks into the apartment.

“What the fuck is this?” He hears, turning around at the sound of Jimin’s voice. It sounds like venom, not like the usual soft candy.

Jimin stands there in the living room, face distraught, spilling tears. He’s holding one of Jungkook’s baggies of cocaine, the other holding the packet of his syringes and vials of meth.

Jungkook stares, face blank.

“What is this?” Jimin asks, louder, this time. He holds the packets up higher, for Jungkook to see. “Please don’t tell me you’re on drugs.”

It's eerily quiet in the apartment, the traffic, and sprawling city from the window the only source of light. It trickles into the wide space, highlighting a portion of Jimin's overwrought face. Even in this mood, at this time, he's beautiful. His small fists are balled into the packet, eyes shining with a silly hopefulness that Jungkook's answer will be no.

“Does it matter?” Jungkook asks, uncaring. This is not how he wanted Jimin to find out, but it’s fine. There’s a hollow in his mind, static building.

Jimin seems to be in shock.

“Are you addicted?” He asks, his voice quiet with what Jungkook knows is fear.

“What difference does it make?”

“It makes all the fucking difference! How could you keep this from me?” Jimin screams, the sound of it piercing in the quiet space of the apartment.

Jungkook stays silent, not feeling the need to explain himself.

“I’ll leave you.” Jimin says, voice quivering. “I’ll leave you if y-you don’t stop.”

Jungkook stares at him for a few seconds before he starts to laugh.

He laughs loud and long and happy, the sound of it jarring and deeply unsettling. He laughs so hard he can feel tears sting at his eyes, face hurting from how hard he’s smiling, lungs burning. Jimin watches, eyes wide with fear.

“Stop it!” Jimin shouts. “You’re s-scaring me!”

His entire body reverberates with the laugher wracking through him, the deep disbelief and anxiety at Jimin’s words triggering this reaction from him. He’s always been volatile, difficult to predict, even for himself.

Jimin stands in the center of the living room, watching him with wide eyes, quivering with fright. Jungkook must appear terrifying.

The laughter eventually dies down within him. He looks up at Jimin, his love, smiling.

“You can’t leave me. It’s funny that you think you have that choice.”

Jimin’s eyes widen further with shock, starry tears visible even in the dark of the apartment.

The next few seconds are a blur.

The smaller man makes a break for the door. It’s a pitiful move and undeniably the worst one he could possibly make because it sets off something inside of Jungkook.

Jimin doesn’t make it four steps, Jungkook grabbing him from behind before he gets within 10 feet of the doorway.

Jimin screams, kicking. Jungkook brings a hand up to his throat, squeezing hard, fingers pressing deftly against his airways. His movements become more panicked, nails clawing at his arm, small toes barely grazing the floor where Jungkook holds him up against his chest, hand firm around his neck. He knows exactly where to press, fingers digging into this throat and cutting off his oxygen.

“Where do you think you’re going, little one?” Jungkook asks, laughing. He squeezes harder, relishing the way Jimin chokes, an ugly gurgling sound bubbling up from his throat. Jimin’s kicking becomes weaker, arms slipping down, movement sluggish.

“This is where you belong.” Jungkook says, voice smooth like velvet. He kisses the side of Jimin’s face that is rapidly turning purple, using the fingers of his other hand to trace along his plump lips. He immediately feels Jimin’s teeth, trying to catch a grip.

“Aw, baby’s trying to bite Daddy?” Jungkook coos, squeezing harder around his throat. He forcefully shoves his fingers down his throat, making Jimin gag painfully, even worse with the hand around his neck.

“You have nowhere to go. Nobody loves you, has ever loved you except for me.” Jungkook says, feeding into Jimin's anxiety that he'd foolishly confided in him about. Jimin had opened up to him about his genuine fear of not being loved, of not being of importance to anybody. He sincerely believes that Jungkook is doing him a favor by sticking around, needing constant reassurance that he loves him. By playing on that fear, he's guaranteed victory. He's aware of the gaping hole in Jimin's heart, dug in by insurmountable heartbreak and mistreatment by friends and loved ones growing up - boys who promised but left, friends whose priorities lie elsewhere, family who are too far away to count.

Jungkook is all he has and he needs to realize it. Even if it's a lie, even if Jungkook can't count on both hands the number of people he knows love and appreciate Jimin.

He presses soft kisses to Jimin’s face, keeping his fingers lodged down his throat. His hand starts to get wet with Jimin’s tears, the other man completely silent now, limp and hovering over the floor as Jungkook holds him up easily with a single hand around his pretty throat.

“Hoseok doesn’t love you, he didn’t even come for your performance. Your family doesn’t love you.” Jungkook whispers into his ear, biting the shell of it.  “You’ll go back to your apartment, all alone, with no one to be with you and look after you. You can’t survive without me.”

Jimin goes still at his words and Jungkook pulls out his fingers, a sob immediately escaping his lips. Jungkook knows he’s listening.

“I’ll be with you forever. Me and you. I’ll always look after you. We’ve been so happy together, why are you ruining it? Why would you leave me when I’ve always stayed for you? We only have each other, nobody else. Nobody will ever love you the way I do.”

Jimin is silent, tears streaming down his cheeks. Jungkook leans in to bite.

“I love you. I’ll set the entire world at your feet. Do you really want to leave me? Go back to living a life where no one loves you, where your existence doesn’t matter?”

Jimin, to his absolute pleasure, shakes his head. So typical, so naïve, so easy to meld.

“I’m the only one who loves you sweetheart, the only one who’ll always stay with you. Do you want that, little dove?” Jungkook asks, smiling at the way Jimin, almost imperceptibly, nods.

He releases his grip around his throat, Jimin falling to the floor and taking in heaving breaths, his body wracking with coughs as his oxygen flow is replenished. His breathing is a mix of sobs and gasping breath, hands planted on the floor, elbows trembling with the struggle of staying upright and not collapsing pathetically onto his stomach.

Jungkook scoops him up once he stops spluttering, cradling him against his chest. Jimin clings to him, face tucked into his neck.

“Have you calmed down?” Jungkook asks, walking them both to the sofa and seating them. Jimin’s body has gone lax, in total submission, either with fright, resignation, or compliance. He doesn't respond although he's still crying, tears flowing silently down his cheeks. His face is pale, neck starting to darken in the imprint of Jungkook's hand. It's nasty, already bruising purple. Jimin's pretty little collar.

“Will you leave me?” Jungkook asks. He gets his answer when Jimin suddenly clings to him harder, face pressing further into his skin. He chuckles, smoothing a hand down Jimin’s back, feeling the knobs of his spine underneath his fingertips.

“Silly baby. Even if you did leave me, I would always find you.” He says with a smile, pressing a feather-light kiss to Jimin's pale cheek.

He trails a finger down Jimin’s spotless arm, unblemished, tracing a prominent vein that runs down the pale skin.

“You’ll see the world through my eyes. Become mine. Then you won’t make a mistake like you almost did. You’ll understand why I’m doing this for you.” Jungkook says aloud. He reaches for the bag Jimin discarded on the couch, picking up a clean syringe and a vial of meth.

He’s clinical in the way he fills it, extracting the liquid carefully into the empty syringe. Jimin still stays limp in his lap, breathing coming out in stutters.

Jungkook extends Jimin’s arm, holding the syringe to the entry point. He shushes Jimin softly when he hears him whine at the first break of his skin, pushing the stopper of the syringe down, the chemical seeping steadily into Jimin’s pure blood. The smaller man shudders against him as the drug flows through his system, Jungkook rubbing his back softly as he removes the syringe once it's empty, discarding it to the side.

He lifts Jimin’s face from where it was buried in his neck, eyes meeting his dilated ones.

“You’re mine.”

Chapter Text

I know paradise has many gates, just as hell does. One has to learn to distinguish between them, or one is lost.

Playlist

Jimin was a cute baby and a cute child.

Absolutely adorable, with soft cheeks that rounded out his face and pouty lips the color of soft lily petals. He was the type of child who wouldn’t kick up a fuss putting on his school uniform in the early mornings, the type who’d feel shy yet eager to make friends around the activity table.

The apple of his parents’ eye, their sweet little baby who deserved the entire world.

Jungkook remembers it all, the fond words that narrate Jimin’s childhood often leaving the dancer’s lips in the early hours of the morning when they’d be tangled together, the room hazy.

Everything about Jimin is a light, baby pink. His personality, his skin, his demeanor. His wish is simply to be happy, be loved and cared for.

Although Jimin was a cute child, he didn’t grow up with too much attention.

His introverted personality and deep lack of self-esteem, cultivated through harsh discipline and feedback from dance instructors growing up did away rather quickly with the unparalleled confidence kids his age usually had.

Jimin’s tight schedule and diet, his body naturally chubby, didn’t allow him to do much growing up. He didn’t go out with friends after school as that would mean skipping practice. He wouldn’t be allowed to attend the occasional birthday party he was invited to, his parents not wanting him to be tempted to eat birthday cake.

Jungkook has thought about how it’s probably why Jimin always steers toward sweets when he’s stressed. He was never allowed to have any, even as a child.

He wonders how that must have been for him. Jimin is the type to take everything to heart, after all, to focus on every little aspect of the tone people use to speak to him, searching for any signs of disapproval. It must’ve been terribly hard on him – forced to feel inadequate in a body he couldn’t quite change at that age, to be placed in a separate category than other children.

How it must’ve been to not be able to indulge in the typical happiness everyone else does in their childhood like chocolates and trips to the arcade, forced to spend evening playtimes in a stark studio, confronted with an unsatisfactory reflection in the mirrored wall. To be forced into deep-setting insecurity at the age of 6.

Jimin is heart-wrenchingly beautiful, the kind where time stops with a simple glance at his ethereal features. He always has been, in Jungkook’s opinion. Jimin has never seen it, always in doubt of himself. It’s like a fairytale – Jungkook coming into his life. He’s not sure if he counts as a prince, but he loves Jimin all the same.

Jungkook's sister Jina had tried ballet when she was 8. The first use of a harsh-tone by the home instructor had led to her being fired on the spot. Jungkook’s mother would not tolerate anyone dampening her little girl’s confidence.

Jungkook traces his fingers over a photo frame on Jimin’s living room shelf, looking at an old picture of him on a school trip. He looks adorably out of place, holding hands with his classmates, little kiddie backpack steady on his narrow shoulders. Jungkook eyes his soft cheeks, the familiar vulnerability in his eyes that he still has today. He looks at the soft swell of his belly, pudgy fingers, and his button nose.

There isn’t a shred of all that delectable baby fat on his Jimin today. He’s all skin and bone, years of self-loathing and beration leading him to lose the most endearing thing about him. Jungkook wishes he would be chubbier – there would be so much more of him to touch and blotch pink, bite, splay his fingers over.

Jungkook picks up the framed photograph, deciding to take it home with him.

Jimin’s apartment is eerily silent, some of his furniture gathering dust, a pile of mail unopened on the kitchen counter. Nobody has lived here for a month. Jungkook’s eyes catch the pristine tea set Jimin would maintain impeccably, sitting on one of his kitchen shelves.

The entire space has lost the color it initially had. It’s no longer warm and golden, the afternoon sun that usually streams in through the windows now stark and pale, jarring. His soft couch looks worn and dated, the smooth wood of the coffee table unpolished and dull.

Jungkook visits Jimin’s bedroom on a whim, the sound of his footsteps loud against the tiled floor. His bed is made neatly from the last time he’d slept there, a fluffy pink comforter sitting heavy on the soft mattress. Jungkook thinks about all the times he’s seen the smaller man curled up in there, tangled with the sheets, skin marred with hickeys and rough handprints. Jungkook would usually grab a washcloth and wipe him down so they could go to sleep together, the fairy lights strung above his pretty bed staying lit at Jimin’s insistence.

Jungkook turns around and walks out, grabbing his car keys from the coffee table and heading toward the front door. He’s about to put on his shoes when he notices an envelope on the floor.

Jungkook picks it up, inked fingers skimming over the details. It arrived yesterday. He opens it swiftly, pulling out an official letter.

Dear Park Jimin,

After repeated attempts at contacting you followed by your lack of communication and arrival at work, we are forced to revoke your position with us at Seoul National Ballet. We are unaware as to why you made this decision and why you did not inform us of the same. Still, we wish you all the best in your future endeavors. We had a lovely 4 years with you and will miss you dearly. Your balance pay has been sent to your bank account.

Thank you,

Kim Hayoung

Chairman

Seoul National Ballet

Jungkook folds the letter and puts it back into the envelope. He steps into his boots before leaving, heading down the stark stairwell. His heavy footsteps echo loudly in the silent structure.

Jimin’s landlord wasn’t too keen on him moving out. Even offered to slash the rent, desperate to have the income. A good offer, but not one he was willing to consider. Jimin doesn’t have a need for this space anymore.

Still, Jungkook will have all of Jimin’s furniture shifted to the other empty apartment on his floor. He likes Jimin’s things, every little item having his personal touch. That’s why he’d come here in the first place, to say a goodbye of some sort, even if the person who is most attached to this space isn’t with him at the present moment.

Jungkook gets into his car, the envelope and framed photograph placed carefully in the passenger seat. He begins his silent drive back home, stopping at a Chinese restaurant to pick up lunch. Jimin hasn’t been eating well recently. Perhaps he could coax a few bites from him if he’d give him a little treat.

Jungkook makes it home soon enough. He takes the elevator and enters his apartment, shutting the door closed behind him.

Jungkook walks into the living room, spotting the maid preparing to leave. She jumps as she sees him, face stiffening for a second.

“Sir.” She greets, her voice blank.

“Did he eat breakfast?” Jungkook asks although he knows the answer. The rice porridge and fruit still lay untouched on the dining table.

“No.” She responds, suddenly moving faster to gather her things.

“Did you even try?” Jungkook asks, a sharper edge to his tone. “I’m beginning to think you’re useless.”

She slings her bag onto her shoulder, features stressed. She’s a middle-aged woman, probably in her early forties.

“I did.” She answers. “He refused to wake up.”

Jungkook dismisses her with a wave of his hand, heading toward the bedroom. He opens the door quietly, spotting Jimin curled up under the sheets in a little ball, snoozing. He’s been asleep for around fifteen hours now.

Jungkook walks over to him, sitting on the bed and pulling the sheets down to expose Jimin’s face. It’s gaunt, cheekbones almost protruding, breaths stuttering as they leave his lungs.

He traces a finger over his fine features, over his lips that have stayed the same, the generous fan of his lashes, and then underneath his nose to feel his breathing.

“Sweetheart, wake up.” Jungkook urges, running his fingers through his hair. Jimin makes a nonsensical noise in his sleep, mumbling something.

His eyes eventually flutter open at Jungkook’s ministrations and the smaller man makes a keening noise, pulling him into bed.

Jungkook sheds his jacket and goes easy, sliding underneath the covers with Jimin. He loops an arm around his narrow waist, keeping him close. His skin is cold, chapped lips pressed to Jungkook’s neck.

“Somebody’s not listening well.” Jungkook chides softly, burying his nose into Jimin’s hair. They’d just shampooed it the previous night.

“’m not hungry.” Jimin pouts, voice hoarse. “I don’t want to eat.”

Jimin inebriated by drugs is a different person. On cocaine, he’s on fire, like a little kid on a sugar rush. He rambles out his sentences, fingers, and toes twitching, pupils blown wide. Jungkook has had some of the best sex he’s ever had when Jimin’s high off of the white drug, the smaller man’s stamina shooting through the roof. Unfortunately, the come-downs from the drug are equally harsh on him, draining his energy like a dry well. Jungkook doesn’t let him snort cocaine too often.

With meth, however, it’s a different story.

The first time he’d injected Jimin, close to a month ago, Jimin couldn’t do much, his body overwhelmed by the drug. He took to the meth beautifully, like he was born for it. He’d spent the first few hours confused, mostly disoriented but he’d told Jungkook that it was the best he’d ever felt.

The moment the drug left his system, approximately twelve hours later; Jungkook had injected him with more. He’d done this for three days, such that Jimin was never really off the drug. Once the 72 hours had ticked by, Jimin was begging him for it. Said he couldn’t think straight, that he felt like he was dying, his throat and tongue so dry that it rivaled an arid desert. He’d throw tantrums, slamming his little fists against Jungkook’s chest, all for a measly drop that Jungkook was glad to dole out.

Now, he’s on a seemingly permanent high. Movements sluggish, mind not really present.

The weekend after his performance, Jimin went into work late. It was odd for him as the smaller man usually prides himself on his punctuality. It started to become a pattern.

He went in later and later as the days passed, eventually giving in to Jungkook and deciding to stay in when it got too difficult to wake up in the mornings.

Jimin hasn’t gone to work in over a month.

Jungkook scoops him up, Jimin whining at the loss of warmth from the blanket. He walks them over to the dining table, sitting down on the chair with the smaller man in his lap. He directs his attention to the bags of food he’d purchased.

“I brought lunch.” Jungkook announces, opening some of the lids so that Jimin could smell the food. He’s still snoozing lightly, head resting on Jungkook’s shoulder.

“Baby, wake up.” He prods, fingers brushing along the back of Jimin’s neck.

Today’s one of the bad days.

Jimin isn’t usually this bad, a little more present, fighting to stay awake but today he wants nothing more than to disappear. He’d said it himself last night, to no one in particular, thinking that Jungkook was out of earshot. Jimin has lost most of his muscle. His ribs protrude as he stands now, his jawline so sharp it could slice through butter.

“Baby.” He repeats.

Jimin’s eyes open at the endearment and Jungkook brings a spoonful of rice to his lips. He smiles as Jimin opens his mouth obediently to allow the food in. The smaller man chews slowly, a grain of rice sticking to his lips. When he swallows, he speaks.

“I don’t want to be awake.” Jimin says, sounding tired. “I don’t want to.”

“You have to.” Jungkook responds, voice firm.

“I feel like I’ll float away.” Jimin whispers, fists balled up in Jungkook’s t-shirt. He sounds genuinely afraid, eyes closing once more.

“Eyes open.” Jungkook tuts. “Look at me.” He commands with more bite, fingers digging into Jimin’s waist. Jimin opens his eyes, button nose pressed to his.

“Look at my hands.” Jungkook says, redirecting his vision to where they lie on his waist. Jimin obeys, pretty eyes falling to where he wants them to.

“I’m holding you.” He says. “You won’t float. You’ll be right here with me.”

Jimin is silent for a few seconds, considering this.

“Are you sure?” He asks, voice soft. Jungkook chuckles.

“Of course. If you eat, you’ll be heavier. Then you definitely won’t float. You’re a tiny little thing now.” Jungkook says, thumb gliding over Jimin’s flat tummy through the soft fabric of the t-shirt.

“Don’ wanna be heavy.” Jimin whines. “Then you won’t be able to carry me anymore.”

“I’ll always be able to carry you.”

“What if I’m so heavy that I squish you?” Jimin giggles. He sounds a little more awake as the sweet laughter leaves his lips. Jungkook takes the opportunity to give him a sip of water, the hydration sure to rouse him further.

“I’ll still carry you.” Jungkook smiles, feeding him another spoonful of rice. Lunch goes smoothly after that, the smaller man a little more lively. He tells Jungkook about a dream he had, where he’d visited a strawberry farm. Jungkook tells him about the strawberries that he’d bought, sitting cool and fresh in the fridge that he might get to eat later if he’s good.

Most would find this annoying. But Jungkook loves it.

It’s the best he’s ever felt, having Jimin all to himself. To have the smaller man be dependent on him for everything. Every single day is golden, waking up with Jimin’s body next to his, the petulant whine that leaves his lips when he rouses him from sleep music to his ears.

The crease of Jimin’s elbow is almost blackened with needle marks, a deep purple. He’s become more childlike, mind reduced to monotony and the limits of their home. He doesn’t know whether he’s withered down to this as some sort of defense mechanism or whether the drugs have worn down his thoughts this bad, but he’s happy. Jimin hasn’t stepped beyond the apartment doors in a long time.

Jungkook puts a movie on for Jimin once the meal is finished, his plate wiped clean. Jimin hadn’t eaten in 2 days, so it’s a significant improvement. He puts the dish in the sink for the maid to wash later.

Jungkook smokes a cigarette on the balcony, watching Jimin as he pays rapt attention to the movie where he sits on the sofa. It’s getting increasingly cold these days, evident in the blanket Jungkook has wrapped the smaller man in.

Jimin’s friends have been calling him. It started with a range of texts from Seohyun the performance night, asking to talk. Jungkook answered each one, working to ward off suspicion. Jin calls every single day, thrice. Jimin had even answered one of his calls by his own volition once but couldn’t sustain his attention on it, claiming that he couldn’t understand what Jin was saying. Jungkook wasn’t at home.

It’s infuriating.

They’re happy. Why does everyone want to destroy it, what he’s built for them?

As his thoughts dwindle to the taste of nicotine on his tongue, his phone starts to ring.

 He pulls the device out of his back pocket, answering the call.

“Hello?”

“Jungkook, hey! How’s it going?” The way Namjoon says his name indicates that he wants to talk about something, tone stilted.

“Fine. I just ate.” He responds. He absent-mindedly remembers that he’d forgotten to set the plate of Jimin’s strawberries on the coffee table for him to eat. He’ll do it later.

“That’s good.” Namjoon says. “What are you up to tonight?”

Jungkook looks out at the view, taking note of the grey sky. It might rain later.

“I don’t have anything planned.” Jungkook responds.

“Do you wanna come out for dinner?”

“With you?” Jungkook retorts, taking a long drag, the smoke clouding through his lungs.

“Yeah. Yoongi and Taehyung too.”

Jungkook stiffens but momentarily.

“You can bring Jimin too. We haven’t met him yet, Yoongi and I.” Namjoon suggests.

Jungkook chances a look at Jimin, curled up on the couch. He can see his head starting to loll, hair a soft mop against the back of the sofa.

“I can’t. Jimin isn’t feeling too well.” He responds.

“I-uh.” Namjoon’s voice wavers. Jungkook can hear somebody speak to him on the other end of the line, a hushed voice.

”Okay, that’s fine. No problem.” Namjoon completes.

“Okay.” Jungkook says, eager to end the call.

“How about next week, then?” Namjoon asks suddenly. Jungkook suspects that he’s with Yoongi, the other man telling him what to say.

“I’ll have to see. Maybe.”

“Great! We haven’t seen you in a while, Gguk.” Namjoon says, voice softer.

“Yeah, uh- things have been busy.”

“Yeah, I get it.” Namjoon says. “Hope Jimin feels better.”

“Thanks.” He says curtly.

“Bye Gguk.” Namjoon greets before the line goes dead.

Jungkook pockets his phone, taking one last drag and extinguishing the cigarette on the sleek railing. He can see one of his neighbors looking at him from his balcony, an elderly man, expression disapproving. Jungkook holds his gaze before he turns away, heading back inside.

Jimin is asleep again. His face is pillowed against the soft sofa cushion, lips lax and dry, breaths coming out in short puffs. His skin is pale, a sheen of sweat slowly becoming visible.

Jungkook sits down next to him and pulls him into his chest, wrapping his arms around his pliant body. He squeezes, wanting to meld their bodies together, disappear into one. He doesn’t make an effort to wake Jimin this time, instead letting him doze against his shoulder.

Jungkook presses a soft kiss to his pliant lips, fingers brushing along the base of his spine.

“We’re happy, you and I. All we need is each other.”

-

Jungkook is dreaming.

He’s not sure what about, just knows that he’s lost in a labyrinth he can’t manage to escape from. He knows that it’s cold and that his visibility is poor. It feels like there’s a visor of a bike helmet over his eyes, vision tinted as he tries to make out his surroundings.

He takes slow steps, afraid that he’d step on shaky ground and that it would collapse underneath him. It had happened once, during a family holiday in Portugal. They’d visited a farm, something about his brother wanting an authentic experience, only for Jungkook to fall through a pile of leaves into a ditch.

 He’d sprained an ankle but refused to cry, instead cursing his brother for suggesting coming here in the first place. It was an unnatural amount of venom and vitriol for the thoughts of a twelve-year-old, but he’d felt them all the same.

Jungkook feels like he’s stuck in a vacuum. He can’t hear or see. There’s neither wind nor any pressure, nothing touching his fingers or toes.

He blinks and he’s somewhere else.

Jungkook is seated on a chair and there’s a television set in front of him. It’s playing a commercial that he vaguely remembers to be from his childhood, one for a new candy that comes with a free toy. The catchy tune of the advertisement sends a whip of nostalgia to Jungkook’s heart.

His nose picks up on a smell. It’s something spicy…no, not spicy….it’s warm. It’s stew, the one his nanny would make for him when it would rain.

Good, Jungkook thinks in his dream. It’s cold outside, so we should have stew. He can hear some voices, all murmured tones, and words. When he focuses, he can slowly make out the words their voices make.

“What a shame.”

“I always knew something was wrong with him.”

“Dead eyes, that boy.”

All of their words blend together in Jungkook’s brain and he focuses harder, trying to identify who is speaking and what they’re saying.  More people start to talk, a jumble of overlapping sentences and syllables and he’s only able to make out a few words at a time.

There’s a wave of building nausea in his stomach, sweat gathering at his temples.

“How could you do this to me?” He hears and his eyes fly open, a strangled cry leaving his lips. Jungkook’s fists are balled in the sheets, chest heaving.

He sits up on the bed, mind orienting to reality, coming back down to Earth. He knows that it’s below a degree out but he’s sweating buckets, his t-shirt sticking to his skin.

Jungkook lets out a shuddering exhale, hand automatically resting over where Jimin’s thigh should be. His fingers land on the sheets.

He whips his head to his side of the bed where Jimin should be sleeping soundly. Empty.

It’s around mid-afternoon, pushing 4 pm, a trickle of golden sunlight seeping in through the window, carving a pattern over Jungkook’s distraught features.

He steps onto his feet, charging through the open bedroom door to find Jimin. He immediately hears voices, coming from the entrance to the apartment.

“Jimin, listen to me-“

Jungkook recognizes him immediately. It’s Jin.

He’s standing at the front door, wearing a thick coat. He looks frazzled, expression wracked with worry and concern as he looks down at Jimin who seems to be half his size, standing small in the doorway.

“Hoseok, his parents-“

“Hyung, I can’t leave.” Jimin responds quietly, like he’s afraid Jungkook will hear.

“Why not?” Jin asks, baffled. Jungkook sees the way the other man’s eyes travel over Jimin’s neck and collarbones, taking in the marks.

“You’re not supposed to be here.” Jimin says, so quiet that he’s almost audible. “Da-Jungkook will get mad.”

“Fuck Jungkook.” Jin spits with venom, eyes flaming. “Where the fuck have you been? I haven’t seen you in a month! What is he doing to you?”

“Hyung-“ Jimin says as he flinches back at his friend’s sudden change of tone, voice quivering.

“Get your things.” Jin says.

“I have nowhere to go, Hyung.” Jimin whispers, echoing what Jungkook has spoon-fed him regularly over the past 4 weeks.

Jin appears shocked, eyes wide with indignation and disbelief.

“I’m where you go.” He says, his jaw clenched.  “You don’t even know him, Jimin. He’s a-“

Jungkook steps out of the bedroom.

“Jimin.” He says, earning both of their attention. He sees the way the smaller man’s face pales, eyes wide. “Inside. Now.”

Jimin appears conflicted, vision wavering between them. Jin stares at him, a deep sadness his eyes, begging him not to give in.

“Jimin.” Jungkook prods, voice firmer.

“’m sorry, Hyung.” Jimin says, turning around and heading toward the bedroom. He shuts the door behind him with a soft click.

Jungkook looks up, coming face to face with Jin. The other man is seething, usually composed face red.

“What have you done to him?” He demands, looking at Jungkook.

“He’s staying here with me. We are a couple who live together.” Jungkook answers, raising an eyebrow. “This is why Jimin doesn’t want to talk to you. You don’t want him to be happy.”

Jin seems aghast at his words, looking at him like he’s crazy.

“Don’t think I didn’t see the way you talked down to him. You’re hurting him.”

“He’s mine. I can speak to him however I please.” Jungkook responds, stepping closer. Jin tracks the movement.

“You’re fucking insane.” Jin says. “I know who you are. What you’ve done.”

Jungkook stares at Jin, face hard.

“Here’s how it’s going to go.” Jungkook says, stepping closer so that there’s barely two feet in between them. “You’re going turn around and get the fuck out of my building before I call the cops on you for harassing us.” His tone is relaxed, calm as if he was having a normal conversation with a friend.

“How dare you-“

“How dare I what? You’re here, ruining your father’s pristine reputation by coming to my house and trying to break apart my relationship. I don’t know what you think you know, but some small gossip isn’t going to cut it.”

Jin stays where he is, feet still planted outside his door.

“I don’t know you and I have no idea how you know where I live. Is Senator Kim’s precious son a stalker?” Jungkook asks, a smile pulling at his lips.

“I’m the stalker.” Jin deadpans. “That’s funny.”

“Get the fuck out of here before I break your nose.” Jungkook says, smiling.

Jin seems taken aback.

“I’ll give you five seconds to turn around before I’m calling the police. You can say goodbye to Daddy’s next election.”

Jin starts to walk away around four seconds into his count, posture stilted. He turns to Jungkook once he calls for the elevator.

“I don’t know what you’ve been through. Or whether anything I’ve heard is true.” He starts. “But you won’t win. I won’t let you.”

Jungkook stares, jaw clenched. Jin enters the elevator once it arrives, the doors closing behind him.

He stands there for a few seconds after in silence, bare feet cold against the tiled floor of his doorway.

Jungkook shuts the front door, turning around and walking straight toward the bedroom. He stops right before Jimin who is sitting on the bed, face buried in his knees that are pressed to his chest, arms wrapped around himself.

“How many times have I told you not to answer the door?” Jungkook asks. “How does he know where we live, Jimin?”

“I d-don’t know.” Jimin says, face still hidden. Jungkook observes that he’s digging his nails into his legs, toes curled up.

Jungkook softens. He doesn’t want Jimin to have another episode, to break the peace they’ve built together. There’d been a time when he’d screamed, kicked at Jungkook who’d held him down when he tried to run away one night. All it took was a dose to calm him down.

Jimin tries to play into the façade for his own mental health but sometimes the cracks are visible, whenever he’s confronted with what used to be his life. The crisis must be excruciating and Jungkook can tell that he’s fighting it, not wanting to face his reality.

“Did you want to go with him, baby?” Jungkook asks, voice soft. He sits down onto the bed, settling a hand over the nape of Jimin’s neck. He rubs soothing circles over the skin, leaning across to press a kiss over the small mole he has there.

 Jimin shakes his head.

“Then what’s the problem? You’re right here with me.” Jungkook says, carefully untangling Jimin from the little box he’s put himself into. He pries his arms from his lithe frame, putting them around his own shoulders.

Jimin’s eyes are still shut tightly like he’s afraid of what he’ll see if he opens them. The soft light of the bedroom highlights the marks across his neck and collarbones, some splotchy purple and red. He’s so beautiful that it makes Jungkook’s heart stop, a finger extending to trace the marks – some fading, some fresh and vivid.

“Is there a problem, sweetheart?”

Jimin shakes his head once more.

“Use your words.” Jungkook prods.

“No.” Jimin says. “There isn’t a problem.”

Jungkook presses feather-light kisses over his eyes and then onto the soft tip of his button nose.

It takes a little longer to coax Jimin out of his shell after that, but Jungkook manages. They cook together in the evening, Jimin in charge of stirring the pot of pasta ever so often. He puts on some music, wrapping his arms around Jimin from behind and swaying with him in the kitchen.

Jimin is silent. Jungkook knows he’ll stay like that till the next morning.

-

Jimin is sweating buckets, thighs straining as he fucks himself onto Jungkook’s cock, the bed creaking with the force of his swiveling hips. It’s around 4 in the morning, some white still dusted around his pretty nose. Jungkook swipes it off and rubs it into his gums, relishing the shudder that wracks through his body, the way his plump lips start to suck on the appendage as naturally as breathing.

The iridescent glow that the nightlight Jungkook installed makes him appear like a painting, every little glimpse of him art in its finest form. There are whimpers leaving his lips as Jungkook’s cock hits his prostate with every bounce of his hips.

Jimin’s movements start to get more desperate, eyes shut, hips moving erratically with abandon. His pink cock bobs with every movement, leaving wet streaks of precum across his abdomen, glinting in the light. The bed creaks underneath them, the frame of it shaking.

Jungkook suddenly grabs him by the hips, holding him flush against him, halting his movements just as Jimin was about to cum.

Jimin whines, falling forward against his chest.

“Slow down, sweetheart.” Jungkook says, brushing his lips against his earlobe. Jimin shudders against him as Jungkook grinds his cock into him in circular movements, slow and deep. The direct stimulation against his prostate makes Jimin’s eyes cross, thin arms clinging to Jungkook weakly.

“Want- I need to-“ He rushes out, hips moving back against his cock, plush ass seated fully on his lap. Jungkook reaches down and grabs two fistfuls of the soft flesh, squeezing and digging his nails into the fat.

“You’ll tire yourself.” Jungkook chides, fingers moving down to feel where they’re connected, circling the smaller man’s rim and the base of his own cock. Jimin jerks, taking him in deeper. He starts to rut against his abdomen, chasing his release.

Jungkook reaches a hand down in between their stomachs to grab at Jimin’s cock, squeezing the base of it harshly. He lets out a sharp cry, face buried in his neck, movements stilling in their entirety.

“Listen to me.” Jungkook says, possessive grip increasing, Jimin’s breathing getting shorter. He knows that Jimin can’t control it, that it’s because he’s high, but he needs to listen. Jungkook needed to give him the cocaine – his hormones were off and he was terribly depressed, mind numb.

Now, he’s like a bunny in heat, wanting nothing more than to cum.

“You have to listen to Daddy.” Jungkook says, voice soft, whispering into his ear. Jimin whines, legs sliding down the bed. Jungkook runs a hand down his smooth thigh, feeling the baby soft skin.

He flips them over, such that Jimin is caged underneath him. He eyes the marred line of his neck, the precious drops of sweat gathering at his clavicles.

Jungkook resists the urge to wrap his fingers around his pretty neck and squeeze, knowing that it’ll set Jimin off. He tried choking him in bed a week ago and Jimin had lost it, bursting into tears, fingers clawing at his hands, legs kicking desperately to get out of his grip. It probably had to do with the trauma of a month ago and Jimin was inconsolable for a few hours after.

Instead, he pushes Jimin’s legs all the way to his chest, the smaller man already resting his hands on the backs of them, used to this. He starts to pound into him in earnest then, the bed frame slamming against the wall, the mattress starting to creak. He can feel the way Jimin’s hole splits open on his cock, still so delectably tight around him, the glow of the nightlight now shimmering over the side of his face.

Jimin still tries to fuck himself back onto his cock, struggling, but Jungkook pins his hips down with a firm hand. He leans down to kiss Jimin messily in an attempt to distract him, hoping to focus the smaller man’s energy on the kiss. It works until Jimin cums with a cry, sticky white liquid caught between their stomachs.

“I’ve got a long way to go, sweetheart. Better hold on.” Jungkook chuckles as he continues to fuck him through the orgasm, hips slamming into his, teeth ravishing his jaw, and the thin skin of his neck. Jimin starts to gurgle, nails clawing down Jungkook’s back, fingers quivering where he holds himself open.

Jimin cums once more, barely a few minutes later to Jungkook’s surprise. His cock drools the white liquid, as if forced out of him. Jungkook slows down his thrusts, instead choosing to gyrate his hips, cock head pressing deftly against Jimin’s abused prostate. The smaller has his eyes rolled into the back of his head, the flow of cum from his pink cock increasing whenever Jungkook presses harder.

“Unbelievable.” Jungkook breathes out. “You’re perfect.”

“Too much, ‘s too much-“ Jimin garbles out, nails digging into Jungkook’s shoulder.

He pulls out, such that only the tip remains in his heat and slams back in, earning a sharp cry from Jimin, cock spurting more cum like a leaking faucet.

“I think I’ve broken you, sweetheart.” Jungkook chuckles.

“I’m floating, f-float-“ Jimin starts, thighs collapsing onto the bed, slipping out of his grip. Jungkook drives in faster, fingers reaching to grasp Jimin’s face, sweaty and pink and glowing.

“You’re not floating.” Jungkook reassures, wondering where this irrational fear of his developed.

Jimin says it sometimes in his sleep, that he’s floating and Jungkook can never really understand what he means by it. He always has a fitful sleep once the words leave his mouth, Jungkook often having to wake him up and console him, show him that he’s right at home.

A tear slips out Jimin’s eye and his face scrunches up like he’s about to cry.

Jungkook’s movements still, already expecting the sob that leaves his lips. He scrabbles for Jungkook, hands running over his skin like he’s trying to hold onto him for support.

“Baby-“ Jungkook starts, leaning down to wipe away his tears. Jimin’s eyes are shut tightly like he’s afraid to open them.

“Open your eyes.” He prods, pressing a kiss to Jimin’s lips. He doesn’t pull out just yet, unsure about whether that would upset him further.

Jimin still has them shut tightly, tears streaming down his cheeks, body quivering with fright.

“Jimin.” Jungkook urges. He presses some of his weight down on top of his small frame, chests, and legs pressed together. “You’re right here with me. I’m on top of you. You can’t float.”

He moves Jimin’s hands to rest at his shoulders. “See, you can feel me above you.” Jimin’s breathing starts to even out a little, breath still stuttering. His fingertips press gently into Jungkook’s shoulders, touch tender, face contorted into an overwrought sob. The fear is so evident in his features, raw and heartbreaking.

“Open your eyes, baby.” Jungkook prods.

Jimin opens them eventually, immediately met with Jungkook’s dark ones.

“See? We’re at home. I won’t let you float, sweetheart.”

Jimin breathes out in shuddering relief, holding Jungkook tight. He can feel his heartbeat running at a million miles an hour.

“Daddy, I-“

“Hmm?”

“I wanna go to sleep.” Jimin says into his neck.

“Right now?” Jungkook asks.

“Yes, please.”

“Okay.” Jungkook answers. He flips them over, such that Jimin is on top, reaching for the blanket and throwing it over them. He makes to pull out but Jimin doesn’t deal with that too well, shaking his head fervently into Jungkook’s neck.

Jungkook shushes him softly, deciding to stay still even though his erection is painful, Jimin’s tight heat doing nothing to help. He throws his arms over Jimin’s lower back.

“I’m holding you.” He says. “You won’t go anywhere. Even if you do, I’d catch you, pull you back down.”

He’s not sure if the other man hears him. Jimin is already drifting away, small hands flat on Jungkook’s chest. The weight of him is so slight that Jungkook feels that a single gust of wind from the open window could blow him away. He reaches for his phone, pulling up Google.

Despite his mind screaming at him to not do it, his fingers fly across the virtual keyboard, typing in his concern. The result pulls up sooner than he’d wanted them to.

Sudden and high consumption of methamphetamine along with other substances in a few cases can lead to hallucinations, severe emotional instability as well as bouts of anxiety. If not curbed, this could lead to irrational behavior such as self-harm and other symptoms of mental deterioration. It is still not too late, call-

Jungkook wonders if he should feel guilty. He tries to force the feeling, try to make himself feel accountable and upset for his actions, what he’s done to Jimin.

He feels numb, nothing at all. Like this is meant to be, their destiny, only for them.

Jungkook runs his hands down Jimin’s spine, feeling his skin, touching what’s his. Jimin needs him, needs this.

Jungkook pulls out once he’s fast asleep. He jerks off in the bathroom, the tiles cold against his bare feet, unable to meet eyes with his reflection in the mirror.

He then comes back to bed, getting underneath the covers and huddling close, such that there isn’t an inch of space between them. He holds Jimin so tight that he’s sure that there’ll be lines of purple across his skin tomorrow from the grip but he’s unable to stop himself. He loses himself to Jimin’s soft breathing, chest seeming to tremble with every inhale, the bones of his ribs appearing thinner than they used to be.

Perhaps one day, they’ll both disappear.

-

The last time Jungkook spent a day with his brother was 3 years ago.

It was a spring evening and the weather was as perfect as it could be, the breeze cool and unwavering, gently drifting through the air. He could feel the dewy blades of grass between his fingers, green so vivid that it soothed the eye. He was sitting on a picnic mat, the checkered one that you see in movies, a basket of goodies resting a few feet away from him.

His Hyung had taken him out for the day. First to an amusement park, assuming that Jungkook, at nineteen, was still of the age that would enjoy rollercoasters and winning stuffed toys at booths. He would take Jungkook out more often when they were younger, before he became swamped with work and the duties of married life. Jungkook eyes his wedding band, the gold glinting in the afternoon sun.

“Jungkook-ah.” He’d said, extending a fond hand to gently ruffle his hair. He took the day off to spend with Jungkook, taking him to do things they’d often do when they were younger. He wanted to bring back some of his little brother’s liveliness.

He didn’t know it was too late.

“How’s school these days?” He asked, a lazy smile spread across his lips.

Jungkook shrugged, sipping on the juice box in his hands. “Fine.”

“Are you studying well?” He asked. “I ran into Taehyung the other day. He said that your exams are around the corner.”

“I don’t need to study.” Jungkook muttered. His brother frowned.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m going to take over the business.” Jungkook said, looking up at his Hyung. “It’ll be me, not you.”

His brother laughed, probably thinking that his words were rooted in humor.

“I’d gladly accept it.” He grinned. “Regardless, business or not, you need to study. Look after yourself. I haven’t seen you at the dinner table for weeks.”

Jungkook stared at him, the bags under his eyes so deep that they were almost blotched black. His fingers twitched, nostrils tingling.

“Hyung loves you, Jungkook-ah.” His brother said.

The words echoed in Jungkook’s brain, over and over, like haunted whispers.

I wish you would disappear

I wish I was never born

Hyung loves you

Jungkook, how could you do this to me?

-

Jungkook’s doorbell rings.

The sound of it is jarring to his ears and he wakes slowly, eyes opening. Jimin is still curled up next to him, dressed in only his underwear, breathing steady. He holds a finger underneath his nose to feel as he inhales and exhales, checking. Always checking.

The doorbell rings once more.

Jungkook gets out of bed, stretching a little and heading toward the window first. He opens the curtains, taking in the view. The moon hangs high in the dark velvet sky, a star or two dotting the wide expanse of it, cars crawling like little ants on the roads below. They’d fallen asleep in the morning if he remembers correctly. Jimin will be out for a little while longer.

Jungkook walks toward the front door, eyes narrowing when he looks at the camera feed.

It’s Namjoon, Yoongi, and Taehyung. Their faces are relaxed although Jungkook can see the stressed lines on Namjoon’s forehead, the slight clench to Yoongi’s sharp jaw, the drum of Taehyung’s long fingers against his thigh. They’re holding bags of takeout and booze, all bundled in thick coats.

Jungkook opens the door.

“Gguk! Hey.” Namjoon says.

“Hi.” He responds, resting a hand on the doorjamb. His mouth feels stale with nicotine and old weed. He distantly remembers that the fridge is empty. He’ll have to step out and buy something to stock it up soon.

“It’s been a while since we’ve hung out, huh?” Namjoon smiles.

“It has.”

“Taehyung is leaving in a week.” Yoongi says. Jungkook looks to Taehyung, the other giving him a small smile.

“Oh?” Jungkook asks.

“Yeah, Gguk. I thought I’d head down and check the place out early, settle in.” Taehyung says.

“Are you gonna let us in?” Yoongi gruffs out.

Jungkook thinks for a few seconds before he steps aside, allowing them into the house. It’s dark, the lights off, the air in the apartment still and cold. The others toe off their shoes, the sounds of their footsteps as they walk in dull against the tiled floor.

Yoongi turns on the lights and sets the bags of food onto the coffee table, Namjoon taking a seat on the sofa. Taehyung stays standing, hands in his pockets, looking around the apartment.

“Where’s Jimin?” He asks. His words are hesitant, expression still unsure like he doesn’t know where they stand with each other. Jungkook knows that he wants them to go back to how they used to be, return to being his best friend despite it all. He’s been texting him nonstop, asking to meet and updating him about his day.

“He’s asleep.” Jungkook answers shortly.

“It’s 8 pm.” Yoongi states, squinting at him.

“He’s tired. Busy day.” Jungkook responds. Taehyung's face stays blank although Jungkook can see the disappointment in his eyes, the way he unconsciously licks his lips and looks away, momentarily toward the bedroom door behind which Jimin is sleeping soundly.

“So, is this a little farewell party?” Jungkook asks, settling down next to Namjoon on the sofa.

“I wanted to see you before I left.” Taehyung responds.

“And them? Moral support?” Jungkook snorts, gesturing to the other two. Yoongi’s face hardens.

“Stop being an asshole.” He says. “You need to fix things.”

“So yes.” Jungkook deadpans.

“Gguk.” Namjoon says. “Don’t leave things on a bad note.”

Jungkook looks up at Taehyung whose eyes are shining with hope, slender fingers wringing together where he still stands in the center of the living room. He’s dressed casually, in a simple white tee with black jeans and a belt. It highlights his narrow waist and broad shoulders.

“He’s leaving anyway. Fuck if I care what we do tonight.” Jungkook says.

He’d rather not think about Taehyung, of the life he’s going to have. Of the position at his company that he just knows his father will offer him once he graduates. Jungkook reaches over to the coffee table and pulls out one of the pre-rolled joints he keeps in the drawer, swiftly lighting it and taking a deep brag.

He doesn’t want to think. Not when he’s unsure of what he’ll do.

He can see Taehyung’s heart break at his words. Jungkook wishes he could laugh.

“Jungkook-“

“He’ll come around, sit down.” Namjoon says, flicking on the TV so that there’d be some background noise, so that it isn’t just them sitting in a room with tension so thick you could slice through it.

Taehyung does sit, albeit hesitantly. Jungkook can tell that the others persuaded him into believing that this was a good idea. He takes some pleasure in knowing that he still controls Taehyung, is the person behind his thoughts and his guilt.

Jungkook doesn’t want to see him happy, have what he doesn’t. He’s going to make Taehyung feel as terrible as he can about it.

He decides to humor this. Just so he can see Taehyung suffer.

Yoongi starts to pour the drinks and they begin to talk, although it’s mostly just him and Namjoon carrying the conversation, desperately trying to rope the other two into it as well.

Jungkook bites. He urges Namjoon to keep talking about his weekend trip to Jeju with Chaewon, downing shots upon shots of soju as he speaks. Yoongi watches him wearily, Taehyung fiddling with the glass in his hands.

They eat too, Jungkook enjoying his fried chicken. It’s been a while since he’s had some.

His tolerance for alcohol has grown so high that he barely feels any of the soju sloshing through his system, breaking down in his blood. He thinks about Jimin who is deep in his dreams, curled up in a little ball on their bed. He would’ve liked to have this little get-together, always happy to talk to people and have fun.

When he realizes what his thoughts revolve around, rather who, he huffs a laugh.

Even now, he thinks about Jimin. He thinks about brushing his lips along the nape of his neck, over his cheeks, running his fingers over his soft skin. He thinks about a few months ago when he would wake Jimin up by blowing raspberries into his tummy, the smaller man always squirming, tinkling laughter like bell chimes leaving his lips.

He hasn’t heard Jimin laugh like that in a long time.

The world feels impossibly small right now, rotating on a linear axis. They have their world right here in this apartment, so high up where nobody else can reach, their own corner of the galaxy, just for them.

“Fuck.” He hears, and the dream is over.

“What is it?” He asks, looking to Yoongi.

“We’re out of cigarettes.” Yoongi responds.

“I’ll go get some.” He responds, taking the initiative. He needs to clear his head anyway, take a walk. He stands up from the couch and grabs his wallet from the kitchen counter, walking straight past Taehyung toward the front door. He hears murmurs as he slips on shoes but doesn’t pay them too much attention, opting to leave first.

It’s terribly cold out, almost torrid, Jungkook’s exposed fingers numb as he makes his way down the street. At this time, most of the families are at home, inside their cozy apartments and spending their evening with their loved ones. Probably with hot cocoa or a nice movie, he thinks.

The walk does him good, the air conditioning of the grocery store sending an unpleasant shiver down his spine. There’s the raucous chatter of teenagers a few aisles down. Jungkook picks up three packs of the brand Yoongi likes and heads over to ring up.

The girl manning the cash counter looks up at him, a sickly sweet smile plastered on her face.

“Would you like to add another 10,000 won to your purchase?”

“Why would I?” Jungkook retorts, already pulling out his card.

“You’ll get a raffle ticket that could win you a couple’s holiday to Greece.” She says. “All expenses paid. 7 nights and 8 days.”

The words shouldn’t sound so appealing but they do, the promise that leaves the girl’s lips resounding within him like some sort of answer, a haven. He imagines Jimin and him on holiday, further removed from this world, making a new home on a Grecian island. He imagines having Jimin on the glittering beach, the waves tickling their skin, afternoon naps on a wide and airy veranda looking out into the blue ocean.

Jimin would adore it. He’s never left Korea.

Distantly, Jungkook thinks about how he could easily afford this holiday and at least a hundred more with what he earns doing absolutely zilch. But right now, this feels right. Like some sort of secret for both of them.

Jungkook throws a few lollipops from the little check-out display onto the conveyor belt for the groceries. The girl seems pleased, ringing the candy up. She hands Jungkook the raffle ticket, the smooth finish of it glossy against his fingertips.

He pays and drops one half of the ticket as required into the ballot box outside the store. The other half sits snug in his back pocket as he walks home, the tip of his nose pink with the cold and eyes shining with determination.

They’ll be far away soon.

Jungkook doesn’t remember most of the walk home, mind lost drawing up thoughts he can’t even begin to trace. The cold air bites and Jungkook powers through it, teeth gritted to keep them from chattering. The stark streetlights light up the roads, empty and barren this time of night.

His steps falter when he starts to approach the recycle bin on the side of the street.

Jungkook thinks about 6 months ago when they’d met here for the first time, the time since feeling almost like a millennium. Jimin was so different back then. He thinks about how he thought he’d dreamed of seeing him, meeting him, feeling the ghost of his fingers on his shoulder at several points during the days following.

He’s not sure how long he stands there for, just staring, almost able to see the two of them from a different time. Jimin was a lot healthier back then, skin glowing.

Jungkook eventually snaps out of it when there’s a sudden gust of wind, cold and unrelenting. He powers through the rest of the journey home without much interruption. He relishes the temperature-controlled reception area of his building, the doorman nodding at him as he enters.

Jungkook reaches down to his back pocket on the elevator ride up, patting the ticket stub, making sure it’s still there so he can show Jimin. He walks to his door, keying in the code and opening it.

It’s silent.

There’s no chatter, no drawl of Yoongi’s voice as he talks about something or Namjoon’s trademark chuckle. It’s quiet like it usually is when it’s just the two of them – him and Jimin.

They must have left. Jungkook doesn’t care enough to wonder why, realizing that he’d prefer it this way. He wants to wake Jimin up, show him what he brought-

Jungkook trips over a pair of shoes in the doorway. He looks down, seeing Taehyung’s sneakers.

The sight of them sends a jolt of anxiety through him, the knowledge that he’s still here setting his mind on alert. Namjoon and Yoongi’s shoes are gone.

He steps in slowly, looking first at the living room. Empty. The TV is switched off, takeout boxes and soju bottles arranged neatly to be thrown. Typical Taehyung.

Jungkook looks around the apartment, eyes narrowing when he spots his bedroom door. It’s open, the lights on inside.

Jimin

Jungkook stalks toward the room, eyes flaming, jaw clenched so hard that it hurts. He stops at the open door, watching. His mind is buzzing, the ringing in his ears back.

Taehyung stands over Jimin’s still sleeping form, the smaller man still curled up in the exact same way he’d fallen asleep in hours ago. The taller man arranges the blanket over his sparsely-clothed body, reaching over to tuck him in. He does it carefully, touches tender like he doesn’t want to wake him.

Jungkook watches, eyes wide. His nails dig into his thighs, something dark creeping up his spine.

Taehyung crouches by the edge of the bed, running his long fingers through Jimin’s soft hair. He stares at him, like he’s trying to commit his face to memory, an emotion in his eyes that Jungkook recognizes too well.

He leans in and plants a kiss onto Jimin’s forehead, a large hand resting over his cheek. He looks at Jimin like he’s precious, like a porcelain doll that could break at the smallest of touches.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He asks, voice unnaturally loud in the quiet of his apartment. Taehyung jumps, looking at him, eyes wide.

“Gguk-“

Jungkook storms in, shoving at Taehyung hard. His friend’s back hits the wall, a heavy exhale leaving his lips at the impact.

“You’re trying to take him too, huh?” Jungkook spits, eyes bulging out of the sockets. The veins on his neck protrude, the ringing loud in his ears. “You got a boner for my boyfriend?”

Taehyung’s eyes are wide and he’s speechless, mouth opening to say something-

“What is it?” Jungkook seethes, mind spiraling. “You wanna fuck him, don’t you?”

“No-“

“I knew. I knew ever since you guys first met that you wanted him.” Jungkook says. “The way you looked at him.”

Taehyung is silent, jaw clenched.

“You know what?” Jungkook says suddenly. “You can fuck him.” He decides before stalking over to Jimin’s sleeping form. He yanks off the blanket, leaving Jimin in just his underwear. “I’ll let you fuck him once if it means that you’ll get the fuck out of my life, stop trying to take what’s mine.” He can’t even register the words flying out of his mouth, mind red.

“Gguk, stop-“ Taehyung starts.

Jungkook pushes Jimin’s body, the smaller man rolling over onto his back, arms dropping down. He’s still sleeping soundly, lost in his dreams. Taehyung’s eyes immediately fall to the syringe scars, face paling.

“What-“ He breathes out, expression crestfallen. He falls to his knees, grabbing his arm. “What the fuck-“

“What are you waiting for?” Jungkook mocks. “Take your dick out. Fuck him. Might as well give you one last thing, you fucking charity case-“

Taehyung surges up and punches him clean in the jaw, sending him stumbling back a few steps. He feels the impact of the hit a few seconds later, a steady burn searing through his skull.

“You’re fucking drugging him.” Taehyung exclaims, eyes wide with shock. “I should’ve known, no wonder he wouldn’t wake up-“

Jungkook laughs, ignoring the burning ache in his jaw. “You don’t know shit. I don’t have to explain anything to you. I fucking hate you, I always have.” He spits. “You ruined my life. My family, my future. It’s all over because of YOU!” He shouts.

Taehyung looks up at him, jaw clenched.

“You know what?” The other man says. “I’m tired of being your bitch.”

Jungkook stares, vision hazy with anger.

“I was supposed to stay back here and fix things with you.” Taehyung says. “But you’re a lost cause.”

“Am I?’ Jungkook chuckles. “You’re the one who’s practically homeless, living off what’s mine, what you took away from me. I guess greed knows no bounds with you, even my boyfriend isn’t safe from you -“

“I like Jimin.” Taehyung says. “I do. I have feelings for him and it’s not something that’s new. Still, I never dreamt of initiating anything because our friendship comes first, no matter what. I’m sick of you fucking blaming me for your life.”

“Sick of it? You’re the one who fucked everything up for me-“

Taehyung shoves at him, hard.

“Was I the one who told you to flunk all of your exams?” He shouts, seeming livid. “Did I make you go to Jihoon’s house and get doped up on drugs every day after school? I even tried to fucking stop you.”

Taehyung’s chest heaves the anger. “Was I the one who made you get so high that you missed the final board meeting and lost your position at the company?”

The words cut deep, slicing into Jungkook.

“Was I the one who made you sleep with your sister-in-law?” Taehyung shouts the loudest this time, deep voice bellowing out in the room. It’s almost as if the structure shakes with it.

Jungkook’s mind is blank, fingers trembling. The words wash over him, torrid and unrelenting.

“You don’t get to blame me for shit, Jungkook. You fucked up your life all on your own.” Taehyung spits. “And I’ve always been there to pick up the pieces, stick by you no matter what. I’ve had enough.” He gestures to Jimin then. “You were going to let me sleep with him? What the fuck is wrong with you? He’s not your property!”

“He’s mine-“

“Everything has to be yours. I’ve always been quiet about good news because I never wanted you to feel bad. I never said anything even when you slept with my girlfriend in school. I gave up college with you, no questions asked, because I wanted to be a good friend and not leave you alone when you were down. I never let myself live because of you. I’m done. You don’t get to guilt trip me for making one decision for myself!”

Jungkook can’t feel his fingers.

“No wonder your family fucking hates you.” Taehyung says and Jungkook snaps.

He punches Taehyung in the nose, catching the other man off-guard and tackling him to the floor. He’s not sure how long he punches him for, fists bloody and upper lip pulled back against his teeth in a vicious sneer, vision white. There’s something building in him with each collision of his fist with Taehyung’s face, sending his head knocking to the side, an undulated rage that’s built up for almost his entire life surfacing.

It takes a while before Taehyung manages to kick him off, coughing blood. His nose is broken, lip split. His fists shake at his sides like he’s trying to stop himself from fighting back.

Jungkook grabs him by the collar.

“I don’t ever want to see you again.” He spits, looking at Taehyung’s bloodshot eyes, nose, and mouth painted red. “I don’t give a fuck about you. I never have. You were just a pathetic loser who was my little punching bag and guess what, you still are.” He seethes. “I don’t want to hear from you even if you’re dead.”

Taehyung stands up shakily, one side of his handsome face already blooming purple.

“Perhaps I should have done this a long time ago. You’re like poison, an infected limb that needs to be cut off.” He says, every word labored. “And Jimin, he deserves so much more.”

“Like you?” Jungkook laughs. “I love him.”

Taehyung’s face hardens.

“You don’t know what love is.” He responds.

His words repeat themselves in Jungkook’s mind, echoing amongst the static.

“He’s not like us, Gguk.” Taehyung says. “You can beat me up all you want but it won’t change the truth. He’s fragile, different. I don’t want his life ruined because of you. Even if it’s too late.”

“I know what’s best for him.” Jungkook grits out, knuckles raw, skin chafed. “Now get the fuck out.”

Taehyung stands there, looking at him, eyes brimming with emotion.

For a second, Jungkook sees the years of friendship, the years of Taehyung’s unhesitant loyalty. Perhaps it was always meant to end this way, every second of every minute they’ve spent together growing up leading to this moment. It’s the end of an era of brotherhood, one of both comfort and a deep, cold feeling of inadequateness, plagued with bone-deep insecurity.

Taehyung loves him, he knows.

But Jungkook, perhaps he never really did know what love meant.

It was meant to be this way, their paths meant to diverge as the universe watches over, all-knowing.

Taehyung turns to look at Jimin for a few seconds, his own state pitiful. There’s blood stained in pools of crimson across the front of his white shirt, nostrils leaking the dark fluid like a broken faucet. His lip is split, the side of his eye and cheekbone already blooming purple.

 “Goodbye, Jungkook. Have a nice life.” He says quietly once he pulls his gaze away from Jimin, walking straight past him and out of the apartment. Each step of his against the tiled floor feels like the ominous ringing of a gong and Jungkook can feel himself starting to spiral, the conversation and his reality looming over him like a dark shadow.

A demon, coming to collect for his sins.

The sound of the front door slamming shut reverberates through the apartment and suddenly, Jungkook is somewhere else.

He’s not sure where, just that it feels familiar. There are sheets beneath him, a mattress so soft he can already feel himself sink into it. There’s light against his closed eyelids, diffused and glowing, reminiscent of early summer mornings in their vacation home in Southern Italy.

Jungkook opens his eyes, his mind and body recognizing his surroundings in slowed seconds. He takes it in piece by piece – the large French windows next to his bed that look out into lush flower gardens, the familiar sound of the gardeners chatting as they tend to the plants, the spray of a water hose. He looks at the ceiling, a fine white, and the sleekness of the furniture – tasteful blends of white, cream, and champagne.

He’s at home.

There’s a throbbing in his skull and he can feel blood crusted over his nostrils, mouth stale. His limbs ache, the skin of his nose burning with every inhale. Jungkook takes some effort to sit up but he manages somehow, noticing that he’s dressed in a formal white shirt and pressed slacks, a heavy belt sitting on his waist. The fabric is wrinkled heavily.

Jungkook picks up his phone, looking at the time and date.

3 pm, 26^th of July 2017.

The date rings over and over in Jungkook’s mind until it starts to scream, like war drums, a banshee. There’s a sick feeling in his stomach, clawing and vicious, so deep that he feels it in his bones.

The decision

Jungkook shoots off his bed, stalking over to the attached leisure room in his quarters. He stops at the large TV, picking up the remote and flicking it on. It’s already on the right channel.

Jungkook feels like he’s floating, far removed.

He watches as his older brother gives a speech at a podium he’s dreamed about more often than not, the press all around him, eagerly listening and taking notes, important questions sitting at the tips of their fork-ended tongues.

“I promise to fulfill all of my duties and uphold the stellar reputation and ethic that my father has maintained over the past thirty years. This is my legacy and I am honored to be elected by the board as the next CEO of Jeon Realty, my lifeblood and inherent duty-“

Jungkook watches, wide-eyed as his brother claims everything he’s been dreaming about ever since he was a toddler.

He’s not sure what he’s feeling. Rage? Confusion? Disbelief?

This is a bad dream. It has to be. There’s no explanation.

Jungkook was supposed to be at the board meeting at 10 am, give his speech, present his case, and wait for the votes. Votes that would decide the next heir to Jeon Realty, the largest real estate conglomerate in the country.

He missed it.

The memories of the previous night are a haze in Jungkook’s mind when he tries to recollect them, barely any recognition, just a dull ache. His pupils are blown wide and he distantly realizes that he’s still high, eyes red as they drill holes into the TV screen.

His brother finishes his speech and bows politely to the reporters, walking off the stage. The host of the event takes over, mentioning something about refreshments.

This isn’t real. There’s no way.

He’s dialing his father’s number before he realizes it. He answers on the third ring.

“Jungkook.” His deep voice sounds out on the other end of the line.

“Father-“

“How does it feel?” His father asks.

“I don’t understand, how could-“ He spews out desperately, pacing around the room.

“You just surpassed my expectations, Jungkook.” His father says. “You’re even more of a failure than I thought you would be.”

The words feel like a bucket of ice against his back, spine rigid. He’s unable to say anything, sheer disbelief and shock overtaking his senses.

“We waited for an hour. An entire hour. Press, reporters, board members who flew down just to see your presentation, your vision for our future.”

Jungkook’s lower lip quivers and he only then registers the tears streaming down his face, searing hot against his dry skin.

“I called the staff to find out that you’re passed out on your bed, surrounded by a garland of syringes. Did you really think I didn’t know that you’ve been inebriated for the better part of the past 5 years? My own son, a useless junkie, the dirt off the side of the road? They asked me if they should wake you but I told them not to. You made your bed, you lie in it.”

“Father-“

“Shut up. Have the shame not to speak.”

Jungkook holds back a painful sob, eyes wide.

“It was always going to be your brother.” His father says. “He has the right head on his shoulders, perfect for this. But still, you’re my blood. I thought I’d give you a chance, give you the benefit of doubt. My lost cause of a son.”

His father takes a breath. “I did so only to find out that you’re every bit the burden you’ve always been. Draining our resources, bringing dishonor to our family with your vices. It’s moments like these that I wish Taehyung had been born into our family instead. He’d make a billion out of a cent and do so with honor.”

Jungkook is shaking. He realizes it distantly, the way his phone shakes in his hands, rattling against his ear.

“I don’t have more time to waste on you right now. You’ve earned yourself a pitiful defeat, a lack-luster future. Use the time before we return home to reflect, think about the disgrace you’ve brought upon all of us, and worst of all, upon yourself.”

The line goes dead.

No. It’s not possible.

Jungkook checks his phone alarm, noticing that they all went off on time. He just didn’t wake up.

He feels erratic right now, unpredictable, mind racing. He’d given himself a higher dose the previous night, to soothe his nerves, only to have lost the only thing he’d ever cared about in this world.

Jungkook thinks about the months of preparation, the business ideas he’d fought tooth and nail to get approved, the extensive research and thought he’d put into each one. The binders of proposals and his speech that lay carefully arranged on his desk, intended to be used for today.

All for nothing, for a night he can’t even remember.

Jungkook thinks about his Hyung, the favorite son. The son who wins over everyone with his dazzling smile and cool persona, tact humor, and charisma his ticket to success. He’s smart, terribly so with a warm heart.

There’s always someone better.

Jungkook’s face is wet with tears. The next few minutes are a haze and he walks back to his bed, sitting on it with his head in his hands, still in disbelief.

There’s a knock on his door.

Jungkook ignores it, not wanting to talk to anyone right now. He doesn’t answer the ones that follow either. He’s shaking, fingernails digging into his scalp, eyes blown so wide they almost bulge out.

He can’t register it, is afraid to, because he’s unsure of what to do.

Jungkook’s bedroom door opens. He hears soft, graceful footsteps before he sees a pair of pretty slippers coming to a stop right before him.

“Jungkook?” He hears, the voice of his sister-in-law slicing through the air.

He looks up at her. She’s looking at him with concern, eyes soft.

“Are you alright?” She asks.

Jungkook thinks about how she’s just always around. He tries not to think about the implications behind her lingering touches and stares sometimes, almost seductive in nature, like she’s trying to tempt him. He thinks about how she’s completely different when his brother is around, barely casting Jungkook a single glance.

His brother.

Jungkook surges up and kisses her roughly, a hand fisting in her hair. She gasps, delicate hands pressing onto his chest. When they pull apart, she splutters.

“Jungkook, what-“

“Don’t act like you don’t want this.” He grits out, looking like a maniac. “I’ve seen the way you look at me.”

Jungkook takes her lack of response as an affirmative and closes the gap between them again. There’s no intimacy, not even a shred.

He’s not doing this because he’s attracted to her. He’s doing this to hurt his brother, take what’s his as he did to him. It’s all rough touches and roaming hands, all that Jungkook can see being the fondness in his brother’s eyes whenever he looks at her, the vision of how his heart would break when he sees his beloved wife falling apart at his little brother’s hands.

Before he knows it he’s inside of her, her summer dress bunched up around her thighs, face pressed into the mattress. Jungkook pounds into her, looking feral, a hand on the back of her neck to keep her down. Her lewd moans echo in his ears and he doesn’t stop even as he hears the array of cars drive through the gates of his family home.

There’s a knock on the door a few minutes later.

“Jungkook?” He hears his brother’s friendly voice through the door. She hears him too, scrabbling to get away. Jungkook doesn’t let her, lips pulled back in a menacing grin, watching the way her face pales.

“Please-“ She begs, eyes wide and desperate. He’s not sure whether she loves him. She must.

“We should talk about today. Can I come in?” His brother asks through the door again, voice concerned.

His wife starts to cry underneath him, tears of fright streaming down her cheeks. Still, she’s meeting his thrusts unconsciously, hips moving back.

Stupid whore, Jungkook thinks. If they’re caught, her life will be over.

“Come in, Hyung.” He says, smiling, greedily breathing in the way his sister-in-law’s eyes go wide with panic.

The door opens and Jungkook has never been happier.

He wonders how it must’ve been for his brother. For him to walk in on his precious brother dicking down his wife that he’s so hopelessly in love with.

Jungkook can see the heartbreak in his eyes, the way his world shatters into a million pieces in less than a second.

“What-“ He breathes out. He’s still, in total shock.

“Darling-“ She screams, reaching an arm out to him. “He’s hurting me-“

Jungkook raises an eyebrow. “Don’t lie.”

He’s thrown off her before he realizes it, his brother bundling her up in his arms, throwing his suit jacket over her. Jungkook’s back hits a chest of drawers painfully, the sharp edge of it digging into his spine.

His brother looks her up and down, hands gripping her shoulders in comfort. “Are you in pain?”

She sobs, eyes watering. “I was just w-walking by and he p-pulled me in, I didn’t even know what w-was happening-“

His brother looks at him, eyes flaming with anger and heartbreak.

“He j-just held me down and it w-was so scary, I w-was crying for someone to help me-“

“She’s lying! Tell him the fucking truth. You came here begging for it.” Jungkook spits, buttoning up his pants. He stalks over to them, mind spiraling once more.

His brother shoves him when he gets too close, sending him stumbling a few steps back. He’s seething.

“Stay away from her!” His brother screams, livid.

“Hyung-“

“What’s going on here?” A voice sounds out. Jungkook’s stomach drops to the ground.

In the doorway stands his father, eyes burning. His presence is imposing, the cane he uses for support as he walks held firmly in his hand.

“Jungkook hurt Naeun.” His brother accuses, still cradling her against his chest.

His father’s eyes go wide, looking to his daughter-in-law. “Sweetheart, what did he do?”

“He r-raped me.” She sobs out, burying her face into her husband’s chest.

“She’s lying!” He screams.

“Take her away. Call a doctor.” His father commands. His brother still seems to be in shock, unwilling to believe that Jungkook would be capable of something like this. Regardless, he does as told, arms firm and protective over her slight frame as they leave the room.

Jungkook is shaking.

“Father, she’s lying-“

“Get out.” His father says.

Jungkook’s mind goes blank.

“What-“

“Get out. You aren’t my son anymore.” The words cut deep and Jungkook is suddenly short of breath, the reality of the situation crashing down over him.

“Father, please.” Jungkook begs. “Believe me, I would never-“

“I don’t ever want to hear from you. No phone calls. No visits. You aren’t a part of this family anymore. I’m glad that your mother isn’t around to see you this way.”

There are tears streaming down his cheeks and his jaw hurts from how hard he’s gritting his teeth.

“You will retain your existing assets. Our lawyer will be in touch. You have until tonight to leave.” He says before turning around and walking straight out of the large room, leaving Jungkook alone.

For a while, he just stands there. He’s not sure how long for.

The rest is a blur.

He knows that someone arrived to pack his things, all of his clothes, every picture, every hint of him tucked into an array of suitcases. He was escorted to the entrance where a car was waiting, ready to take him to his new home – an apartment building under his name. Another car followed behind with his things.

Nobody bid him goodbye, although he could feel his sister’s eyes on his back through one of the windows as he left the Jeon house for the final time. Every footstep toward the car, out the large entrance that he’d walked through countless times echoed in his heart, mind numb.

He’d been dropped off and that was that.

His life, over in a blink.

A week later, the lawyer arrived with papers for a restraining order and a contract. They wouldn’t reveal anything of what happened to the press, or lodge a criminal complaint about his assault, as long as he stayed 100 feet away from them at all times. They would give him an allowance to live on, but nothing else.

Rape is a coward’s game. Something Jungkook would never do, even if he sank to his lowest. Which is funny, considering he’s hit rock bottom.

He remembers calling his brother two weeks later, his sudden permanent solitude in a strange apartment still not yet having sunk in.

“Hyung.” He said, unsure of what he’s doing. He’d never ever felt any sort of brotherly love for him, not a shred, even though he’s been the apple of his brother’s eye ever since he was born.

Still, there’s something unspoken, something that needs to be said, despite the years of one-sided hatred. A grace to all the years they’ve known each other, the blood that they share.

His brother was silent on the other end of the line although Jungkook could hear his breathing. He’d still picked up, after everything.

Perhaps he could help Jungkook, rebuild bridges-

“I need your help.” He started.

There was silence for a few seconds.

“How dare you?”  His brother said eventually. The words weren’t rooted in anger, spoken softly. The vulnerability and heartbreak is clear but Jungkook couldn’t find it in him to feel bad. His brother has everything he could ever want.

“I didn’t hurt Naeun-“

“Even if you didn’t.”  His brother said, cutting in. “Even if it was consensual.”  His voice broke, a deep sea of hurt and betrayal in his words that follow.

“Jungkook, how could you do this to me?”

He couldn’t bring himself to respond. Where does he start, how does he begin to unravel the deeply tangled mess of thoughts in his brain – a mess of raging insecurity and an inferiority complex, all rooted in the success of his brother? How does he put it into words, that he doesn’t regret breaking his brother’s heart, only that this was the outcome?

That even after all of this, Jungkook hates him.

“I-“ He said, unsure of his train of thought. His stomach felt heavy and he wasn’t sure whether it was guilt, or something deeper, but he couldn’t put a word to it.

“I know that you’ve lost a lot, Jungkook-ah.”

Jungkook-ah, fond, even after all this time.

“I’ve lost everything, Hyung.” He responded.

“And I know that I’ve always told you that I’d stick by you no matter what.”  His brother said, his voice breaking, words that follow merely a whisper.

“But now, I’m afraid, you’ve lost me too.”

The call ended after that, his brother's words ringing loudly in his ears.

Jungkook blinks and he’s back in the present, standing in his bedroom in the same position. It feels like it’s been an hour, maybe more and he’s sweating buckets, static loud in his mind.

Lost everything

He looks up, eyes wide and his vision catches Jimin, still soundly asleep, resting on his back over the soft mattress.

Not you, you’re still mine

He walks over to him, sitting on the bed next to his sleeping form. He distantly registers the tears flowing down his cheeks, grounded in panic and the sharp edge of a breakdown. He hasn’t cried since that day years ago and the salty drops feel foreign on his skin.

Jungkook looks at Jimin’s pretty face, still so beautiful, although his skin is so pale that he can see his veins shine through it like cords of indigo. He always knocks out whenever he has an increased dose combined with a harsh come-down from cocaine.

“They’re trying to take you away from me. The only thing that’s mine.” Jungkook says shakily, jaw clenched, eyes wet. His fingers shake. “I got rid of Hoseok. I got rid of Taehyung.” He says, cupping the side of Jimin’s face.

“What do I have to do to make you stay mine?” He asks. “It’s just me and you, doll.”

Jimin is silent, unconscious but Jungkook swears that he can hear him giggle, blush as he used to all those months ago. He thinks of how Jimin used to be, always smiling, cheeks always flushed pink.

Jungkook thinks about how Jimin is so different now – either quiet or in a deep child-like headspace, needing constant physical contact and being driven over the edge of a breakdown at the smallest of actions. He has horrible hallucinations and dreams, waking up crying and trembling in the middle of the night, sometimes screaming when Jungkook gets too close. Seconds later, he’d be clinging to him like he meant life itself.

He’s broken him, fully and thoroughly, made him completely dependent. Jimin can’t distinguish between fear and love anymore, all of it blending to form the mindless haze that makes his every day.

“Still, they’re trying to take you away.” Jungkook says. “After everything I’ve done to keep you safe, here with me.”

The thoughts jumble together in his mind, words incoherent even to his own ears.

“You’re mine.” He says, reaching for the nightstand and picking up a permanent marker. He writes his name across Jimin’s bare stomach in long wide letters.

J e    o  n        Ju   n   gkook

He smiles, feeling better. He does it again, this time on Jimin’s thigh. Then down his legs, on his knees, on his feet, then up on his neck, his collarbones. He flips him over and scribbles over his back, becoming more and more enthusiastic with every second that passes. Jimin was already small but now he seems to be a quarter of the size he used to be, all protruding bones and eerily pale skin. 

When he writes over Jimin’s ass, he leans down and bites hard, the soft flesh malleable under his teeth. He doesn’t register Jimin’s shout of pain until he feels blood flow into his mouth, immediately pulling away and kissing the wound.

He looks up at Jimin whose eyes are wide with panic, hazy and confused.

“H-Hurts-“ His baby says, still seeming drowsy, roused from his dreams. “It hurts!”

Jungkook shushes him softly. “Go back to sleep, Angel. Daddy will make the pain stop.”

Jimin’s eyes are shut although fat tears leak around the edges, slipping down his cheeks. Jungkook pays him no mind, continuing to scribble his name over him, eyes manic, like he might die if a single inch of Jimin isn’t covered with the dark ink.

He’s not sure how long he does this for, vision white. Jimin drops off somewhere in the middle, Jungkook only stopping once the pen runs dry.

He examines his masterpiece, happy. The letters overlap and cross into each other, such that it just looks like a tangle of lines across Jimin’s lithe frame but Jungkook thinks that he’s never looked so beautiful.

He climbs into bed, pulling Jimin into his chest, pressing kisses to the side of his face.

Somehow, Jungkook starts to cry again, the sound of his sobs loud in the silence of the room.

Just the two of them.

-

Jungkook wakes up one night to find the bed empty. The clock says that it’s 3 am.

He sits up in a panic but relaxes once he sees the bathroom light on, the door cracked open. He leans back against the headboard, waiting for Jimin to return.

When there’s complete silence for five minutes, he decides to inspect.

“Sweetheart?” He asks, opening the door.

Jimin stands there, completely naked, staring at himself in the mirror.

Jungkook gets closer, resting a hand on his shoulder. Jimin doesn’t react, like he doesn’t feel the touch, see Jungkook’s presence.

It’s like he’s in a trance, vision bored into the mirror, eyes dead. That’s what Jungkook notices first. His eyes look like he’s far away, distant.

Jungkook eyes the bite marks all over Jimin’s body, some crusted with blood wherever he sank his teeth in too deep. There are many across his thighs and the thin skin over his ribs, a particularly deep one around his right nipple. The darkest one is on his neck, the indents of Jungkook’s teeth more prominent there, a deep purple. There are streaks of hickeys over the rest of him, swirling together to form a beautiful painting.

He doesn’t recall the last time Jimin got to see himself in the mirror. Jungkook is the one who usually takes him to the bathroom and to wash up.

“Let’s go back to sleep, baby.” Jungkook says softly, pulling Jimin into a hug. He feels so slight in his arms, like he might disappear soon, so thin that he might snap like a toothpick at the smallest of touches.

Disappear

Jungkook’s throat is heavy. Jimin can’t disappear.

The smaller man doesn’t respond, still silent where he stares at himself, at his marred body, the crook of his arm blackened with syringe scars.

“Let’s go, hmm?” Jungkook says into his ear, a hand trailing down his fragile back, paper-thin. He feels the knobby bones of his spine, the skin above it so thin it’s almost translucent. He's not sure how much Jimin weighs now. He'll get out the scale tomorrow and check.

Jimin is still silent, eyes dead, absolutely no recognition and acknowledgment of Jungkook’s words, like he can’t hear him.

Jungkook scoops him up, every inch of Jimin’s bare skin pressed to his, the man so light he barely huffs a breath. Jimin is limp in his arms, not saying anything when Jungkook gets them back underneath the covers, the smaller man carefully arranged over his chest.

Jungkook moves his arms so that they lay around his torso, like the way Jimin used to hold him back then. He presses a kiss to Jimin’s hair, arms firm around his waist.

“We’re happy, you and me. You’re happy.” He says.

He pretends not to feel the tears that fall onto his skin, cold and heavy.

-

Jungkook doesn’t win the holiday to Greece.

In fact, he didn’t even know that they’d drawn winners in the first place. He had visited the grocery store to pick up some sweets for Jimin, eager to fatten him up a little, bring back those baby-soft cheeks. Hopefully, the sugar will give him some energy.

He asks the cashier about it as he checks out.

“Are the results out yet? For the raffle?” Jungkook asks. It’s a man this time, not the girl who was working the counter that day.

“The winter special raffle?” The man responds absentmindedly, ringing up the large bars of chocolate one by one. He then gets to the large chocolate cake meant for a party that Jungkook also bought.

“Yeah.” Jungkook responds.

“They are.” He answers. “You might have won something. Do you have your ticket?”

Jungkook nods. He fishes out the ticket stub he’s been keeping with him religiously. He hands it to the cashier, the other man taking it and entering the code into the system.

“Oh, you did win something.” He says. Jungkook’s eyes light up.

The cashier reaches behind him and pulls out a little booklet, ripping off one of the pages. He hands it to Jungkook, who takes it and reads it.

A 50,000 won coupon for the same store.

No holiday. No new future.

But Jungkook refuses to accept it.

He checks out and exits the store, handing his prize coupon to an old street hawker. The elderly woman takes it gratefully, giving him a toothy smile. He doesn’t pay her too much mind, instead flagging down a taxi.  His mind races with determination.

Jungkook arrives at a nice building fifteen minutes later, the afternoon melding into the evening.

He walks through the fancy glass doors, a man in a business suit already leading him to a table obviously meant to get customers to relax and spend more money. Jungkook sits down on the plush sofa, eager to get to business.

“I want to go to Greece on a holiday.” He says, voice smooth.

The travel agent looks utterly pleased to hear this, eyes lighting up as he gathers a few booklets. They contain a range of travel plans, different itineraries, and packages detailed on the glossy paper. He seems like a typical salaryman with a wife and kids back home, eager to land a lucrative client.

“Very good, sir. When? It’s beautiful in summer-“

“I want to go right now.”

The other man seems a little surprised but smiles nonetheless, opening up one of the booklets to show him.

“Will you be alone or are you traveling with company?”

“One more person. My boyfriend.” Jungkook says, not hiding that Jimin is a man.

The agent seems to be fine with it, opening up the pages with the couple’s travel plans.

“We have a wide range of plans for romantic holidays. May I ask how long you would want to visit for?”

Jungkook stops to think. “I haven’t thought about it. For right now, let’s go with an indefinite duration.”

The agent pauses, like he’s heard Jungkook wrong. “I’m sorry?”

“Do you have any open-ranging plans? Ones that don’t end on a particular date? I can call you when we need our tickets booked back.” Jungkook says but inside, he doubts they’ll return.

The other man seems a little puzzled but he nods regardless, agreeing. “We don’t typically, but I’ll make it happen for you, sir.”

Jungkook smiles.

“I really am sorry for all the questions but do you perhaps have a budget that you’d like to stay within?”

“No.” Jungkook says simply. “I want the best of everything.”

The agent smiles widely, eyes shining like he’s hit the jackpot.

“Then let’s get into the details.”

Jungkook leaves the agency 30 minutes later with plans to bring Jimin to the Greek embassy to issue his international visa, their tentative departure date in two weeks.

He feels accomplished, like this is everything he needs.

It doesn’t take him too long to arrive home.

When he walks through the door, Jimin is awake.

He’s standing in the kitchen, chopping some fruit. He turns around with the sound of the front door opening, a small smile on his face. He’s drowning in one of Jungkook’s hoodies.

“Hi, Daddy.” His sweet voice rings into the air.

Jungkook stalks toward him and pulls him into a bone-crushing hug, just the sight of him making his heart settle. There’s a sense of relief somewhere deep within, that Jimin isn’t asleep yet again, that he’s awake and doing something.

“I have a surprise for you.” Jungkook says into his neck, large hands spanning the length of his lower back.

“What is it?” Jimin asks, sounding tired.

Jungkook pulls away slightly, smiling at him.

“We’re going on holiday. You and me.” He says, eyes searching Jimin’s for a trace of excitement. He doesn’t get one, Jimin’s eyes still cloudy.

“Oh? Where to?” Jimin asks softly.

“Greece. We should leave in two weeks.” He says happily, grip tight on the other man. He sways with him slightly, Jimin almost stumbling with how he’s jostled around. Jungkook buries his nose in his hair, pressing kisses to his forehead.

His eyes shoot open when he feels a drop of something wet fall onto his feet, followed by a steady flow of it dripping down onto his skin.

Jungkook pulls away sharply, eyes widening when he looks at the other man.

Jimin is still holding the knife he was using to chop fruit but now he’s gripping it tightly, fist clenched, the sharp blade slicing into his soft palm. His blood trickles in thick rivulets down his fingers and onto the floor, forming a little puddle onto the white tiles.

“Baby!” Jungkook exclaims, pulling the blade away from Jimin’s grip. It takes him some effort, carefully prying away Jimin’s hand from the kitchen knife, throwing it to the floor once it’s out of his grip. Jimin’s face is still blank, as if he hasn’t just sliced a deep wound into the length of his palm.

“Does it hurt, sweetheart?” Jungkook asks as he drags Jimin to the bathroom, washing out his wound. Crimson swirls and trickles down the drain, diluted with the water.

“No, Daddy.” Jimin responds.

“Stay here.” Jungkook says. He heads into the kitchen and pulls out the first aid kit, returning to the bathroom to find Jimin standing in the exact same position he was before – his small hand outstretched as if Jungkook was still holding it.

He dabs at the wound with disinfectant, quickly wrapping it, watching as the thick white gauze is quick to blotch with a fresh wave of blood.

“You’re so brave for not crying.” Jungkook coos, pressing a kiss to his bandaged hand. Jimin smiles at this, beaming.

“It didn’t hurt one bit.” Jimin says proudly, like a little kid.

“You should be more careful. No more knives unless I’m around, hmm?”

Jimin nods. “Mhmm.”

“You’ll listen to me, won’t you?” Jungkook prods, thumb grazing across Jimin’s cheekbone.

“Yes, Daddy.”

Jungkook smiles, leaning down to kiss him softly. It’s as addictive as it’s always been, the feeling of Jimin in his arms, his sweet scent that still hasn’t withered. He kisses him deep, lips moving together, Jimin’s alright hand balled up in his t-shirt.

To him, Jimin is a wild rose that would never wilt.

“Are you excited for our holiday, Jimin?” Jungkook asks, pulling back from the kiss.

“Mhmm.” Jimin nods but something about the way he answers rings oddly for Jungkook. It’s like Jimin still isn’t present, not really taking in what he’s saying. His eyes are still far away like there’s a bone-deep misery still clawing at him from within. Like he’s just saying whatever seems right to appease Jungkook.

Still, they have a nice evening. They watch a movie and order in and Jungkook even gets Jimin to have a slice of chocolate cake.

Jimin falls asleep around twenty minutes into the movie but it’s alright.

They’ll be far away soon.

-

Jimin’s visa application is spotless and the process goes smoothly.

Jungkook had been a little afraid that they’d ask to interview him, knowing that Jimin wouldn’t be able to sustain a conversation longer than five minutes. The embassy looks at his stellar record, champion of the arts, and zero dubious history. Jimin is a good boy, always has been.

They just took a look at his documents and granted him the visa, allowing him to travel.

Jungkook wishes he could speed up time, so that they could skip ahead to a week later, when they’d be thousands of miles away on a historic Grecian island, one with the gods and each other. No more of this, people to disturb them.

Jimin has never been on a plane before. He wonders if he’d be afraid or excited, whether he’d feel nauseous during the journey.

He’s having lunch with Namjoon and Yoongi currently. It seems that Taehyung hasn’t told them about what happened the last time they met, opting to just leave silently. Namjoon pretends that everything is alright while Yoongi picks at his food, not really saying much.

It’s another outing suggested by his Hyung, his way of keeping tabs on him and showing him he cares. Namjoon has always been rather peculiar in the way he expresses his love for people.

“Jimin and I are going to Greece.” Jungkook says mid-bite.

Both of them look up from their meals.

“What?” Yoongi asks.

“We’re going on holiday.” Jungkook clarifies.

“That’s great!” Namjoon says. “When?”

“In a week.” He answers. It’s a sunny afternoon, winter slowly ebbing away. They’re seated by the window of the restaurant, their view being some laid-back traffic and the rest of the street.

Yoongi isn’t smiling. “How come?”

“I thought he deserved the treat.” Jungkook says, slicing into his steak. The meat hasn’t been rested properly, some blood seeping into the jus.

“When will you return?” Namjoon asks.

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean?” He asks.

“I just want to go far away with him. Where we can’t be disturbed.” Jungkook says. “He isn’t working anymore and neither am I. We might start over if we like it there, both of us.”

“You’ve been dating for less than a year.” Yoongi says. “Also, isn’t he really ill? Should he be traveling right now?”

“He’ll be fine.” Jungkook dismisses. “We can always see a doctor when we land.”

“Gguk.” Namjoon says, setting down his fork. “How about you take some time to think about this, hmm? It’s a big decision, especially if Jimin isn’t keeping well.”

“I know what’s best for him.” Jungkook answers immediately.

He hates it. He hates it when people try to interfere in his life, with the decisions he’s taking for them. Jimin is his.

He knows that once they go to Greece, there’ll be no more of this. No more pesky noses, no more people who try their hardest to keep them apart. Jimin will be safe within his grasp and there’ll be nobody to try and take him away.

Nobody will know them there. Nobody will know their origin and their past.

Jungkook calls for the bill and pays it before the other two can protest. He stands up as soon as the payment goes through, looking at both of them.

“I guess this is Goodbye. For now.” He says. “I don’t know if I’ll have the time before Jimin and I leave to meet you both.”

“Gguk-“ Namjoon starts.

“I’ll see you guys around.” Jungkook says and he walks out of the restaurant, heading down to the basement and into his car.

Jungkook has no intention of ever speaking to them again.

Jimin is all he needs. All they need is each other. No distractions, no secrets.

He straps himself in and drives away, not feeling any sort of regret or melancholy.

Yoongi and Namjoon, along with Taehyung, were his support system back then. They lived and breathed for him, brought him back emotionally. They’re the ones who convinced Jungkook to go to rehab for the first time, start over.

Things have changed. But it isn’t just him.

Namjoon isn’t the loafer he used to be, working several temporary part-time jobs across the city. He now has a stable income and a nice apartment, a solid relationship to fall back on. He’s more confident now, much happier with his life.

Yoongi has come to terms with who he is. He still has a few part-time gigs but pushes drugs to make ends meet. It’s highly lucrative and he deals well. Jungkook stopped buying from him after the first month, reconnecting with an old friend from school who’d hooked him up with a new guy.

Yoongi has always cautioned him to be careful. Always. Tells Jungkook the truth to his face, tells him exactly what he thinks.

Thanks to Jungkook, Yoongi is able to see his sister. He should be grateful.

On his way home, Jungkook stops to buy Jimin flowers. He gets a bouquet of tulips because he feels like it. He sets the massive bouquet carefully in the backseat and resumes his drive home, drumming his fingers against the leather of the steering wheel.

Jungkook reaches home in record time, taking the elevator up and opening the door as he always does. He sets the flowers onto the kitchen counter.

The first thing he hears is a murmured voice from the bedroom.

Jungkook walks into the apartment slowly, standing just outside the bedroom and watching Jimin. The door is open.

Jimin has his phone pressed to his ear, seeming confused.

“I can’t-“ He says into the line.

Jungkook listens, eyes hard.

“Daddy and I are going somewhere far away next week.” Jimin answers softly, perched on the bed, legs tucked underneath him. He looks especially soft underneath the warm sunlight, hair a fluffy mop atop his head. His collarbones jut out, highlighted by the v-neck sweater he has on.

If Jungkook focuses, he can hear the muffled voice of someone on the other end of the line, speaking with a sense of urgency. He can’t make out who it is just yet, but he listens.

“Oh, I meant Jungkook, Da-Jungkook knows. I don’t know when we’ll return. We’re going far away. ‘s all I know.”

Jimin is biting at his bottom lip, evidently stressed out by the conversation.

“I don’t remember…” He says into the receiver, looking distressed. His free hand is toying with the hem of his sweater.

“I can’t do that.” Jimin says after a few seconds, sounding bothered. “Tae, I don’t know how-“

Jungkook stalks in and yanks the phone from Jimin’s hand, the other man going completely silent once he sees him. Jungkook sees fat tears well up in his eyes in a matter of seconds, already spilling down his cheeks in fear.

Jungkook puts the phone to his ear.

“I thought I made myself clear.” He says into the line. He can hear Taehyung’s rough breathing on the other end.

“Where are you taking him?” The other man demands.

“How’s Tokyo? I’ve heard it’s lovely this time of year-“

“Jungkook, please. Let him go home.” Taehyung says and he sounds defeated.

“He is home.” Jungkook responds smoothly, sitting down on the bed next to Jimin. The other man has crumpled up into a ball now, face buried into his knees, thin arms wrapped around himself. He’s taking deep breaths.

“Don’t-“

“This is the last time I’m ever going to let you speak to him.” Jungkook says. “I’ll give Jimin the phone. Don’t worry, I won’t eavesdrop. You can tell him whatever you like.”

He pries Jimin’s arm away from his body and shoves the phone into his small hand. “C’mon sweetheart, say goodbye to your darling Taehyungie.”

Jimin takes the phone with shaky hands, his short fingers pale against his pink phone case. He’d bought it for himself a few months ago when he was still working.

Jimin is silent as he hears Taehyung tell him whatever it is he has to say although he seems to cry harder, tears flowing down his cheeks with abandon.

Jungkook yanks the phone away when his patience runs out. He looks at Taehyung’s contact picture on the screen, a selfie of him smiling widely. He must’ve sent it to Jimin when they were texting.

Jungkook puts the phone back to his ear.

“Goodbye, Taehyung.” He says before walking over to the kitchen and dropping Jimin’s phone in the blender. It bites a little, knowing how much Jimin saved up to buy himself the device but he doesn’t care, not right now. Jimin doesn’t need a phone anymore.

He hits the power button and watches as the strong blades of the blender shatter Jimin’s phone screen in seconds, the sound ugly and rough, fragments of glass and metal turning into rubble. Jungkook decides to leave it in there till it’s a fine powder.

He stalks back into their room and grabs Jimin’s arm, yanking him off the bed.

Jungkook has arrived at the phase where he can’t tell whether he’s angry or not, whether something has set him off, whether he’s having an episode, or if things are just normal. It all feels the same now.

He can’t tell anymore. The line is too blurry.

“Did you enjoy calling Taehyung behind my back?” He asks, Jimin slipping off the bed and onto the floor with how hard he yanks at his arm.

“N-No-“ Jimin cries, starting to sob. “My phone rang so I just answered-“

“Of course you did.” Jungkook responds. “You’re just a dumb little baby.”

Jimin looks at him, eyes wide and glassy.

“Aren’t you?” He prods, reaching down to sink his fingers into Jimin’s hair, pulling roughly.

Jimin nods hopelessly.

“You know, I was beginning to think that we were safe now, you and I.” Jungkook says, train of thought crystal clear in his otherwise hazy mind. “But you’ve just taught me that you aren’t mine. That you don’t want to be my baby-“

“Daddy, no-“ Jimin cries.

“Which is why I’m going to give you exactly what you want.” Jungkook says before yanking Jimin up and dragging him through the house. Jimin stumbles on his feet, trying to put his full weight on them to keep from moving, loud sobs leaving his lips.

Jungkook opens the front door and flings Jimin out of the apartment, the smaller crumpling pathetically onto the floor, right next to the doormat.

Jungkook shuts the door then, hearing Jimin’s sobs turning into loud wails, echoing in the corridor. He can hear him bash his little fists against the door, scratch at the wood, begging him to let him back in.

He cries like he’s been stabbed, wailing loud and pitiful in the empty corridor, trying pathetically to get the door open. Jungkook knows that he won’t be able to remember the code.

“Please-“ He hears Jimin cry.

Jungkook pays him no mind, walking toward the sofa and taking a seat.

If this is what it’s going to take for Jimin to learn the consequences, he’ll do it gladly.

He isn’t sure how long Jimin cries for. It feels like it’s been hours, his pitiful sobs resounding through the wood of his door and into the apartment. He’s stopped attempting to open the door now.

Jungkook gets up once in a while to check the camera footage. Jimin is still curled up on the floor, now a little ball, back heaving with his sobs.

He’s in the kitchen when he hears conversation, returning to check the camera feed.

“Sweetheart, are you alright?” He hears a woman speak outside his door. He recognizes the voice to belong to Mrs. Kim. She stays on the floor below, an elderly woman living with her husband. She must’ve heard him cry through the stairwell.

Jimin doesn’t respond, still crying.

“Darling, I’ll need you to tell me what’s wrong.” She says, voice gentle. Her face is wrought with worry, the scene more than concerning.

Jungkook watches through the camera, lit cigarette held loosely between his fingers, dropping ash onto the tiled floor. Jimin opens his mouth to speak and the words take some effort to form on his tongue, but they leave his lips regardless.

“Daddy’s inside and h-he won’t let me in-“ Jimin cries.

“He’s inside this house, dear?” She asks, gesturing to Jungkook’s door.

Jimin nods.

Mrs. Kim pulls out her phone. “I think you’re mistaken, sweetheart. This is Jeon Jungkook’s house. You seem to be lost. I’m calling the police, maybe we can find your family-”

Jungkook opens the door in an instant, startling the both of them.

As soon as Jimin sees him he scrambles to his feet and clings to Jungkook so tight that they’re almost melded together. Jungkook rests an arm around his back, smiling at Mrs. Kim. She ends the call, looking at him with narrowed eyes.

“He’s yours?” She asks.

“My cousin. I was taking a shower. I hadn’t realized that he’d locked himself out. He isn’t feeling too well.”

She looks at Jimin, worried. “You should probably take him to a doctor, he seems to be hurt-“ She starts.

“Thank you for your concern. I have an appointment booked.”

Mrs. Kim nods. “Alright. Do let me know if he’s feeling better.” She smiles, then looking to Jimin. “Pop by for some tea when you’re feeling up to it, hmm? You seem like such a sweet boy.”

Jimin looks terribly young for his age. Mrs. Kim probably thinks that he’s a teenager, a little kid.

“I’ll be sure to send him over.” Jungkook smiles, Jimin still clinging to him. “Thank you, Mrs. Kim. I hope you have a wonderful day.”

She smiles and walks away, slowly making her way toward the stairwell. She takes some effort to make it down the stairs, the elderly woman easily over 80 years of age. The fact that she’d made the climb up to check on Jimin surprises him.

He shuts the door, looking down at Jimin. “Daddy, ‘m sorry-“ The smaller man bawls into his chest, dampening the fabric. He takes a long drag from the cigarette, exhaling the bitter smoke into the still air.

Jungkook tilts his head up with a finger on his chin, coming face-to-face with his starry tears, cheeks splotchy red, lips bitten raw.

“You’re mine, aren’t you?” Jungkook asks, reaching a thumb out to wipe away his tears. Jimin immediately nods, nuzzling into his palm, trying to get him to caress his cheek as he usually does.

“You can’t talk to other people.” Jungkook says. “They’re all trying to keep us apart, take you away from me.”

Jimin stares, eyes still brimming with tears.

“You really hurt me, Jimin. I thought that you wanted to be mine.” Jungkook says.

“I do! I want-I want to-“ Jimin starts but the words don’t come out, delectable lips opening and closing repeatedly, expression crestfallen at his inability to voice his thoughts. “I-“

“Baby.” Jungkook interjects. “These marks, my claim on you, they’ll fade with time.” He explains. “The moment they do, you won’t be mine anymore.” His fingers graze underneath Jimin’s t-shirt to feel at the bite mark he’d left on Jimin’s tummy, where his abs used to be. It’s just started to heal, the skin over it rough and easy to pick at. He stops before it starts to bleed again.

“N-No-“ Jimin responds, seeming genuinely distraught.

“And as they fade, I’ll keep doubting you. Because I don’t know how else to make you mine when you clearly don’t want to be.”

“I do!” Jimin exclaims, a fresh set of tears sliding down his cheeks and dripping down his chin.

“You do, hmm?” Jungkook says absentmindedly, taking a drag of his cigarette. He blows the smoke onto Jimin’s face, the smaller man starting to cough.

“Would you be happy with something more permanent? That’ll last?”

Jimin nods fervently, perking up at the idea.

Stupid little baby

“Even if it hurts a little?” Jungkook asks.

“’s okay. I can do it.” Jimin answers. Jungkook smiles.

Without further ado, he lifts his hand and presses the tip of his lit cigarette to the side of Jimin’s neck, just at his jugular. Jimin shrieks at the burn, trying to yank away to no avail. Jungkook presses the cigarette into his porcelain skin, extinguishing the flame. He’s not going anywhere.

When he pulls it away, there’s a neat little circle, burned a deep red. Jimin has started crying earnestly once more, hiccups and sobs leaving his lips, small frame shaking in his arms.

“See? This will stay forever now.” Jungkook says, blowing cool air onto the fresh burn. Jimin flinches away slightly.

“Are you happy?” Jungkook asks, leaning down to kiss him softly. Jimin’s lips quiver against his although his fists are still balled in Jungkook’s clothes, clinging to him tightly.

Despite everything, he nods, opening his mouth to allow Jungkook’s tongue in when the kiss starts to get more heated.

Jungkook leans down and hoists Jimin up with hands on the backs of his thighs, the smaller man promptly wrapping his legs around his waist, all practiced motions, a well-oiled machine.

They’re still connected at the mouth as Jungkook takes Jimin to the bedroom, setting him down onto the bed. He’s already tenting his pants, crawling over Jimin and caging him in. He licks down his throat, slow and steady, tongue quickly striping over the fresh burn. Jimin jumps at that, wrapping his arms around Jungkook’s shoulders.

He sits back up and pulls Jimin's shirt off him, flinging it to a corner of the room. He resumes his assault down Jimin’s neck, biting and sucking at the pale skin with his teeth and tongue, leaving a searing trail as he makes his way down Jimin’s body.

Jungkook licks over his nipples, traces the dip of his belly button, presses kisses onto his sharp hipbones, digging his teeth into the sensitive hollow of it. Jimin’s breathing is shallow, narrow chest tremoring slightly, stubby fingernails now scratching at the sheets. His ribcage sticks out, waistline trimmed so thin that Jungkook's hands meet when he holds either side of it.

He peels away Jimin’s boxer shorts, taking his short length into his mouth the moment it’s exposed. Jungkook bobs up and down, sucking at Jimin fervently, twirling his tongue around the sensitive head.

Jimin’s hips rise off the bed and he fists his hands into Jungkook’s hair, legs spreading wider. Jungkook reaches a hand down to his hole, still wet and stretched out from when they’d fucked that morning, pushing two fingers in. Jimin whimpers at the intrusion, unconsciously grinding his hips into Jungkook’s mouth.

Jimin is relatively small, so it’s easy. His cock is in proportion with the rest of his body, short and always pink, sometimes cherry red when Jungkook overstimulates him. He barely hits the back of Jungkook’s throat and it’s something he always teases him about, calling Jimin bite-sized.

It’s alright because he never has to use it. Jimin was born to fall apart on cock.

Jungkook’s fingers find Jimin’s prostate and he starts to rub at the sensitive nub mercilessly, hollowing his cheeks around Jimin’s length at the same time. Jimin takes gasping breaths, nails scratching at Jungkook’s scalp, thighs starting to quiver.

Jungkook abuses his prostate, stimulating it in firm little circles, feeling the way Jimin’s hole stretches to accommodate his fingers. It’s tight and wet, the pressure unimaginable. He inserts another finger, using his free hand to play with the sensitive skin of his perineum.

“Daddy-“ Jimin whimpers out and Jungkook watches, eyes tracing over his sensitive nipples – petal pink and protruding, just begging to be toyed with. He pulls his hand away from Jimin’s perineum and starts to pull at the sensitive buds, tweaking and brushing his fingers over them.

It doesn’t take long before Jimin lets out a sharp cry and cums into his mouth, hips jerking. Jungkook can feel the way the orgasm washes over him in waves, evident in his peaking breath, increasing in pitch with every second that passes. His hips are flush against Jungkook’s face, fingers now limp where they were tightly would in Jungkook’s hair.

Jungkook pulls off of Jimin’s cock, reaching over to find the lube that’s always kept somewhere in the sheets. His fingers finally find the bottle and he wastes no time in opening it and drizzling the viscous liquid over his fingers, reaching down to slick up his cock.

He aligns his cock with Jimin’s stretched out hole and pushes in, relishing the whine that leaves Jimin’s lips, the grabby hands the smaller man makes for him.

Jungkook presses himself flush against Jimin’s body, chests pressed together, and pushes in deeper, till his balls hit the plush of his ass. Jimin is breathing deeply, hands clutching at his shoulders, sensitive cock caught between their stomachs.

Jungkook pulls back and slams in, the slap of their skin ringing out into the room. Jimin gasps and Jungkook does it again, gradually increasing the pace when Jimin’s hole stretches around him nicely, accommodating the intrusion.

It starts to get wet and sloppy after that, Jungkook pounding into him with greeted teeth. His eyes zero in on the burn on Jimin’s neck, a permanent accessory.

He wonders why he did it. It must’ve hurt so badly.

Why did I hurt him?

Jungkook pushes out the thoughts clawing their way into his mind, instead charging his energy into reducing Jimin into a whimpering mess in the sheets. He’s jostled up the bed with every thrust, his head turned to the side, face buried into the pillow.

Jungkook pistons his hips at a rapid pace, losing himself in how good Jimin feels around his cock. He thinks about Jimin’s life thus far growing up – barely receiving physical intimacy although it’s all he ever wanted as a child, only wishing to be loved, to be able to go out and play with friends as everyone else did.

Now he’s here, loved like he’s the most precious being the world has ever seen. A deity, who Jungkook worships every second of every day, his body an altar that he can’t help but be without.

Jungkook has given Jimin everything he could ever want.

He’ll never have to lift a finger or work, wallow in his loneliness. Their relationship is a gift and Jungkook feels happy, happy that he stopped Jimin from leaving that day 5 months ago, stopped him from leaving all the times he’s tried to after. Before he stopped entirely, finally giving in.

Jungkook fucks into him hard and fast, a euphoric feeling coursing through him.

It’s all he’s ever wanted, to have Jimin the moment he’d set his eyes on him. They’re together, meant to be together. Jungkook has never been loved or needed, but Jimin clings to him like he’s the last breath of oxygen left in a diminishing Earth.

He doesn’t see his orgasm coming, vision going white as he releases deep inside of Jimin, hips working to ride out the bliss as long as he can.

“I love you, baby, I love you more than anything I’ve ever known.” Jungkook breathes out, suddenly feeling emotional. In a matter of days, they’ll enter the next phase of their lives. Maybe it won’t be just Greece. Maybe they’ll travel all over the world, live out the rest of their lives in the different paradises the world has to offer.

The universe exists for them, after all.

“I love you too.” Jimin says, panting. Jungkook sits up, looking down to notice that Jimin had cum once again somewhere in the middle, their stomachs sticky with his release.

“You and me.” Jungkook says, pressing their foreheads together. “We’re forever.”

Jimin smiles and Jungkook leans down to kiss him, drowning in the feeling of having Jimin so close. It’ll always be brand new for him, as overwhelming as it’s been right from the start.

“I’m going to marry you.” He says once he pulls away. “We’ll get married wherever you like. Anywhere in the world.”

Jimin is silent for a few seconds. Jungkook frowns when he sees his eyes become wet again. They glitter like diamonds, Jimin's beauty stealing the breath out of his lungs once again. He's so lucky, so unbelievably lucky-

“What’s wrong?” He asks, kissing away his tears once they spill over his lash line.

“I d-don’t know-“ Jimin starts, seeming confused himself. “I don’t-“

“Shhh, it’s okay. We can talk about this later.” Jungkook comforts, pulling out and lying down next to Jimin. The smaller man immediately cuddles into his side and he loops an arm around his waist.

Jungkook closes his eyes and then opens them again, faced with the cream-colored ceiling of his bedroom. He looks at it, thinking of the number of times he’s opened his eyes to this view.

No more of this. Jungkook doesn’t know when they’ll come here again.

Jimin is fast asleep, tucked into his side. Jungkook is wide awake.

Maybe, he can get better again. He can do it. He did it once before. They’ll get better together.

Maybe, when they start fresh, Jungkook will dispose of the drugs. Jimin won’t leave now, he’s sure of it. Not when they’ll be married soon. It won’t be necessary anymore. All they’ll need is each other.

Just the thought of marrying Jimin sends his heart into a frenzy. Jungkook has never been one for commitment, always tiring of things quickly but Jimin truly is a drug. He feels like the very oxygen that flows through his lungs, the glow of the moon that follows him every night. He loves Jimin so much that he doesn’t know what to do with himself sometimes, the mere thought of Jimin wearing his ring and them enjoying a life together all that he could ever want.

He falls asleep to the image of Jimin when they first met, soft and ethereal, with the golden sunlight shining over the tips of his hair and his radiant features, enough to take Jungkook’s breath away at a single glance.

-

The bags are packed, ready by their front door. Their passports and travel documents are secured in a folder on the kitchen countertop.

Jungkook has bought tons of new clothes for Jimin – coats, jackets, summer shirts, tank tops, swimming trunks. He’ll spoil him rotten when they get there too but he wants to make sure that he has everything he needs.

In less than 2 days, they’ll be high up in the air, amongst the clouds. He’s booked them first-class tickets, such that they’ll have their own little pod. Jungkook imagines pushing down the divider, falling asleep with his nose in Jimin’s neck, soaring through the skies and across wide oceans.

Jungkook has decided to dispose of the drugs.  It’ll be hard on Jimin, at first, but they’ll figure it out once they get there. He found a nice health resort north of Greece, one for celebrities and those who prefer privacy. They could go there if it gets too bad.

But a good send-off is necessary. One final trip.

Jungkook looks at the packet of heroin he’s holding, pure white. It cost him a bomb, his dealer giving him careful instructions regarding the doses as if Jungkook were an amateur.

He holds the spoon with the mixture of the heroin and citric acid over the stove burner, waiting for the elements to melt and mix together, graduate to swirls of white on the smooth steel.

Jimin is on the sofa watching TV, some cartoon meant for little girls. It’s about a princess and her friends, detailing their adventures in a fantasy land. Jimin watches this show more often than not, sometimes even remembering when it airs so that he can see it.

My precious angel, Jungkook thinks as he watches Jimin enjoy the program, sitting cross-legged, lost in the plot.

Jungkook redirects his attention toward the spoon, noticing that it’s melted fully, formed the perfect consistency. He carefully sets it onto the counter pulls out the syringes. They’re old, some of the measurement markers smudged but he remembers the quantities from memory.

He fills the first syringe, down to the perfect amount. It’s pure white, the most potent form of the drug.

Jungkook then fills the second one, in a slight hurry to get this part over with. The high will last a long while.

He walks over to the sofa, taking a seat next to Jimin.

“Baby. Arm out.”

Jimin extends his arm automatically, used to the procedure. Jungkook never lets him inject himself, afraid that he’ll learn how and misuse it when he’s alone. Jimin lacks self-control and Jungkook carefully monitors his doses.

Jungkook steadies his arm, taking a minute to locate his vein and then the entry point. He looks at Jimin, who is still lost in the plot of the show, eyes starry as he watches the princess ride into the clouds on her Pegasus.

The needle goes in smoothly, as it always does, Jimin barely flinching as it pricks into his skin. He pushes the stopper down, slowly, until the syringe is empty.

He gets a reaction is less than five seconds.

Jimin has a full-bodied shudder, eyes going wide, heavy exhales leaving his pretty lips. Heroin usually kicks in within 8-7 seconds and the high is indescribable. The tremors run through him, Jungkook almost being able to feel his euphoria, the undulated pleasure that’s coursing through him. Jungkook decides to inject himself too, closing his eyes as he feels the heroin spread through his system.

He feels like he’s floating in the clouds, soaring high in the sky. He knows that it lasts for less than a minute before it ebbs into a slow, perfect headiness but the short high feels like hours, every second like liquid gold.

He arranges them so they’re both lying down on the sofa, Jimin’s back pressed to his chest. The other man is completely silent except for the odd sharp inhale and tremor of his back. Jungkook throws an arm around his stomach, glad to spend one of their last nights in this house like this, together.

Jungkook buries his nose into Jimin’s sweet hair and closes his eyes, immersing himself in the worlds he can see. There are fire-breathing dragons and castles that float up high in the air, concepts, and ideas that Jungkook used to love as a child. Everything swirls into each other, creating pretty patterns that Jungkook wants to drag his fingers through.

Somewhere in the middle, he hears Jimin say something but his eyes aren’t cooperating, refusing to open. This is weird – he’s never had issues with his motor skills before.

He tries and tries, to no avail. He can hear some sounds, trying to figure out what-

Jungkook finally manages to open his eyes and it is a colossal effort. That’s when he feels it – the constricting of Jimin’s chest, his odd breathing. It goes this way for a few seconds before the smaller man starts to writhe. The movements are slight before they become full-bodied, his small frame starting to spasm.

Jungkook tries to move his arm, keep him still, but he can’t. He can’t even move his fingers and he doesn’t know what to do, how to stop it-

He tries to calm himself down, remembering that it’s just Jimin’s first time consuming the drug, the reactions are bound to be a little off the normal path.

Jimin’s writhing makes him fall off the sofa, out of Jungkook’s arms, and onto the floor. That’s when he sees his face.

Jimin is foaming at the mouth, eyes rolled back into his head, body spasming so violently it’s like he’s having a seizure.

And all he can do is watch.

Jungkook knows and is able to recognize the signs of an overdose. There’s no doubt that it’s what he’s seeing right now and he can feel it in himself too – the way the nausea is building in his stomach, the cold sweat that’s starting to break, the isolation from his own body.

He immediately knows that they aren’t going to make it.

He is going to be forced to watch Jimin die. And then he’ll bite the bullet too.

Jungkook tries to force himself to move, reach a hand out, touch Jimin but he can’t. It feels like’s been nailed to the couch, like a crucifix, unable to make even the most minute of movements.

I wanted to marry you

They’re going to take their last breaths, right in this apartment.

And somehow, Jungkook makes his peace with it.  He’s glad that he’s going to die with Jimin, that they’re going to die together, start the journey toward their next lives. Even if he somehow survives, he knows Jimin won’t. If that’s the case and he’s left alone, he’ll finish the job himself.

He’s not sure how long it’s been but every sound is magnified and he can hear the ticking of the wall clock like war drums in his ears. Slowly, it gets more difficult to register everything. He feels like he’s been locked into his body. He tries to speak, but he can’t.

Jungkook looks at Jimin, committing him to memory. He thinks about all the days and nights they’ve spent together, how he felt when they first met, the electric feeling he’d experienced the first time they’d kissed. It feels like years ago, that night in Jimin’s apartment so long ago.

He thinks about how he fell head-first in love the moment he saw him, knowing that he had to be his. He thinks about Jimin’s smiling face during lazy summer afternoons, thighs in his lap as he checks his phone. He thinks about the feeling of Jimin’s soft skin against his fingertips, his natural scent that Jungkook inhales greedily when he buries his nose into his neck. He thinks about the pure, unbridled happiness on Jimin’s face when he would spot Jungkook waiting for him outside practice, the tinkling laughter that leaves his lips whenever he dances for fun in their living room the sweetest melody he’s ever heard.

Jungkook thinks about how there’s no other way he’d choose to go.

I love you, baby.

He barely registers his front door being broken down.

It’s a haze after that, some people, around two or three, blurry figures storming into his apartment. He can hear them yell, shouting commands.

His vision somehow focuses and he recognizes one of them.

Hoseok.

He looks so different. His hair is buzzed like he’d just enlisted, face gaunt. He shouldn’t be here – his investigator had told him that the other man had been packed off to a conversion center in Namwon, a small town.

Jungkook watches as he scoops Jimin into his arms and runs straight out of the apartment. It all happens in slow motion in his mind, vision alternating between blurry and vivid.

No

He wants to scream, shout, break something, run after them.

But he can’t.

No matter how hard he tries, he can’t.

There are two others and one of them walks forward to stand over him. His features slowly register in Jungkook’s mind.

Jin. He’s looking at Jungkook and his eyes are blown wide like he’s panicked. There’s something unsure in his expression like he’s thinking about something. Jungkook figures it out in an instant.

He’s wondering whether he should save him.

And somehow, Jungkook doesn’t want him to. He wants everybody to leave and shut the door behind them so that it can all end right here.

Alone in this apartment, as it’s always been.

He’s tired.

Jungkook barely registers it when his vision blacks out, eyes closing.

-

When Jungkook wakes up next, everything is white. He can feel it even though his eyes are closed, glaring against his eyelids.

His body feels like it weighs a million pounds and he’s lying down, a deep throbbing pain in his head. His throat is dry, tongue heavy in his mouth.

Jungkook regains sensation through his body in bits and pieces, slowly moving his fingers and trying to stretch out his legs. It feels like he hasn’t moved them in a while, all attempts sluggish, his limbs barely grazing a centimeter or two when he tries his hardest.

He can hear the beeping of a machine, feel the intrusion of something inserted into his vein.

He is in a hospital. He survived.

He manages to pry open his eyes and it’s a paramount effort, eyelids heavy like the shutters of an old store.

Jungkook searches the room, unconsciously looking for something as he scans the small seating area and the large machines he’s connected to, the drab painting hung on the wall, the stark white of the room.

Jimin

Jungkook perks up, panic flowing through him.

“Oh, you’re awake.” He hears. Jungkook shifts his vision to the direction of the voice.

Jin stands there, right by the door. He’s wearing a pink sweater with pressed pants. He doesn’t look like he’s mourning the loss of a dear friend, so Jungkook visibly relaxes.

Jungkook opens his mouth to speak. His words are garbled, throat dry. Jungkook suspects that he’s been unconscious for a while.

“I’ll get you some water. That might help you get your words out.” Jin says, walking over to the table near his bed. There’s a jug of water and he pours it gracefully into two cups, heading to Jungkook and pressing the rim of one to his lips.

Jungkook hesitantly starts to drink, the water tasting like heaven on his tongue. He finishes the whole glass, gulping it down. When it’s empty, Jin sets it away.

“Where’s Jimin?” Jungkook asks, his voice much clearer now. The words are still slightly slurred but he doesn’t care about that. As long as the other man understands him, that’s enough.

Jin doesn’t respond immediately, taking a seat on one of the chairs meant for visitors. He angles it such that he’s facing Jungkook, legs crossed together gracefully, glass of water sitting in his hands.

“He’s alive.” Jin says.

Jungkook immediately tries to get up, rising off of the bed several times in desperate attempts. He has to find him, see if he’s okay-

“He isn’t here.” Jin says casually, watching as Jungkook struggles. His movements still immediately.

“I-“

“Are you aware of what you’ve done, Jungkook?” Jin asks. He doesn’t give him a chance to respond.

“You injected not only Jimin but also yourself with 2 more milligrams of heroin than your bodies can take. Jimin still had a high amount of meth in his system, driving his body into overdose immediately.”

The fucking syringe.

“Jimin is anemic. He has thin blood, which means everything hits him quicker and harder. His body has been reacting adversely to the drugs for a while now but the doses have still been consistent. Did you not consider taking him to a doctor for his mental deterioration and severe weight loss? Or at the very least reduce his doses? He currently weighs less than a hundred pounds.”

Jungkook stares, face hard. Jin chuckles.

“No, let me guess, you wanted him that way.” Jin says and although he’s smiling, Jungkook can detect the anger in his eyes from a mile away. “All of his doses were injected by an external entity. That’s you.”

“I want to see him-“

“You will never see him again.” Jin responds promptly. “I’ve had him transferred to a private facility.”

Jungkook huffs a laugh, disbelieving. “Jimin can’t afford that.”

“Maybe not. But I can.” Jin responds, a smile tugging at his lips.

Jungkook’s mind is racing, spiraling into panic.

“He can’t live without me-“

“Yes, he can.” Jin responds. “You’ve told him so many lies it seems that you’ve started to believe them yourself.”

He refuses to believe it. Not for a second.

“Why are you here?” Jungkook asks, irritated.

“To tell you how it’s going to go from this point onward.” Jin says, his voice suddenly firmer. He sits up in his chair.

“How do you think it would be if the estranged son of the Jeon family was caught with enough illegal drugs to last a lifetime? That he was a junkie, who dragged an innocent person down with him?”

Jungkook stares, jaw clenched.

“You’re going to stay away from Jimin. You’re not going to attempt to find him and I won’t report you to the police.” He says simply. “You’re going to walk out of his life.”

“Not a chance. He’s mine.” Jungkook responds. “I’m fucked anyway. This is a hospital, right? They should have enough evidence on me.”

Jin tuts. “You’re awfully dense. You’re at Sunwoo hospital.”

Jungkook doesn’t let the surprise show on his face. It’s a large private hospital, the chairman being a friend of Jungkook’s father.

“Secrecy can be bought.” Jin adds. “You, of all people, should know that.”

“He can’t survive without me.” Jungkook repeats, so sure of it.

“Have you ever realized that it’s you who cannot survive without him?” Jin asks. “I don’t know what sob story you’ve cooked up in your head but Jimin lead a happy life before you walked in. He enjoyed his job and had, no, still has, friends and family who love him dearly.”

“He was lonely-“

“Even if that were the case, you have no excuse for doing the things you did.” Jin says sharply. “You emotionally manipulated him and reduced him to a child. I have no way of knowing the extent of the mental abuse, not yet, but the scars on his body tell me everything I need to know.”

Jungkook stares.

“I know you used to stalk him.” Jin adds. “I tried to tell Jimin but he didn’t listen. I still remember the day I saw you in that restaurant, almost a year ago. You’d been staring at us for almost an hour. I wish I would’ve said something right then, shown you for what you were.” He says, taking a deep breath.

“I love him.” Jungkook counters and he doesn’t want to do this, doesn’t want to have to explain himself to Jin but it’s the only option right now. Jin knows where Jimin is, he holds the key to the escape gates.

“You don’t hurt people you love.” Jin says. “And you’ve hurt him more than enough for this lifetime and the next.”

“I had to.” Jungkook breathes out. “I had to, or he wouldn’t stay.”

Jin doesn’t respond, watching him instead.

“He’s everything to me. He’s all I see, every minute of every day. When I’m with him, I forget about everything else. You don’t understand what we have. I don’t think anyone can.”

“Jungkook, I don’t know what you’ve been through.” Jin says. “And if I’m being frank, I couldn’t care less. I’m not going to try and reason with you, dissect your trauma.” He stops to take a sip of his glass of water. “But I would recommend that you get help. Go to therapy, address your problems at their roots. I’ll be damned if I let you ruin my friend’s life.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Jungkook suddenly shouts, face red with anger. His throat hurts with the effort of bellowing the words out. Jin doesn’t startle.

“Who the fuck are you to tell me what to do with my life? Jimin is mine and you can’t take him from me, I’ll fucking find him, wherever you’ve taken him-“ He grits out and he distantly realizes that he’s crying, angry tears streaming down his face.

“No, you won’t.”

“Why’d you ruin everything?” Jungkook asks. “Why did you take him from me?”

Jin tilts his head, nodding. “Ah, that’s the part you’re probably wondering about, hmm.” He smiles. “You can thank your friend Taehyung for that.”

“What?” Jungkook snaps, voice raspy.

“He called Seohyun, told her that you were planning to take Jimin somewhere and that you were crazy, that you were drugging him. We couldn’t let that happen. Not a chance. The three of us, we took matters into our own hands.” Jin says. “Jimin wouldn’t answer his phone so Hoseok resorted to breaking down your door.” He adds.

“Had we arrived a minute later, you’d be six feet under right now.” Jin says.

“We belong together.” Jungkook says, voice breaking.

“No, Jungkook. You don’t. And I’m afraid it’s too late now.” Jin responds. He stands up to leave, making him panic.

“Can I see him?” He asks.

“No, you can’t.”

“LET ME FUCKING SEE HIM!” Jungkook explodes. He grabs the empty glass on the bedside table and flings it in Jin’s direction, although his aim is off due to his sluggish arm. It shatters onto the floor, by Jin’s feet.

The doors to the room immediately open, a few nurses running in along with a doctor. Jungkook writhes in the bed, trying to yank out the tubes in his arm.

“I’ll fucking kill you-“ He seethes at Jin, shouting as he’s held down by the staff. “I’ll strangle you till you turn blue, TELL ME WHERE HE IS!”

Jin stares, eyes unreadable.

“Goodbye, Jungkook.” He says before turning around and leaving.

Jungkook screams, a sob bubbling up from this throat. He feels the prick of a needle in his skin and is promptly subdued, his kicks and pushes losing their ferocity. The sedative flows through his system, making his limbs lax, his eyes droop with drowsiness.

As he drifts away, his eyes catch the calendar on the wall, distantly registering the date. They were supposed to be in Greece right now, thousands of miles away, drowning in each other and starting afresh.

It’s all over now.

His vision fades into black.

When Jungkook wakes a while later, he’s still in the hospital room. He feels well-rested, probably been knocked out for hours, a stale taste in his mouth. His lips feel chapped when he runs his tongue over them and the pain is immediate, knowing that Jimin could be cities, maybe countries away from him and he wouldn’t even know.

He hates waking up like this, without being able to press his nose into Jimin's soft skin, wrap his arms around his small frame, and feel him. He hates it, so much. He hates knowing that he won’t be able to get up and help Jimin shower, coax him into having a few bites of rice porridge. He hates knowing that he can’t splay his fingers over his tummy anymore, press kisses to his forehead as they spend evenings together watching TV, sometimes tickling him to hear him laugh or make him smile.

Jungkook opens his eyes and they’re crusted with salt from his tears, lashes clumped together. They feel red and irritated. He looks around the room, vision halting at the person seated in the chair next to his bed.

Jungkook doesn't bother to wallow down his surprise, eyes widening. He stares at his visitor.

He looks the same – barring a few lines that are forming on his forehead, possibly from stress. He’s asleep, head propped up on the cushion of the seat. He’s wearing a crisp white shirt like he’d just gotten out of work. Jungkook notices that his hands are bare, his wedding ring nowhere to be seen.

“Hyung.” He breathes out.

Jungkook takes slow steps down the street, one foot at a time.

There are people all around him, bustling citizens, all chattering and laughing, enjoying their happy Friday evening. There are colorful lights strung up along the poles lining both ends of the street, cozy and glowing. Vendors sell grilled meat and photographers boast their skill to foreigners who might want a picture of themselves during a busy Seoul evening. The metropolis of the city looms high and tall over them, millions of little windows that go as high up as the clouds visible, reminiscent of different lives, meaningful existences.

Jungkook buys himself a lamb skewer. He eats it right there, inked fingers clutching the wood as he bites at the meat. It’s delicious, seasoned well. A few girls pass by him, doing a poor job of hiding their curiosity, giggling and whispering to each other with pink cheeks.

He pretends not to notice two of the girls psyching the third one to come to talk to him, nudging her with teasing smiles. She’s pretty, with long flowing hair and large eyes, lips in a natural pout.

Before the girl is done arranging her hair and reapplying her lip tint, Jungkook leaves.

He keeps walking, on and on, boots stepping onto the rough pavement.

Jungkook walks till he reaches a café, right opposite the Han River. He buys himself an iced coffee and takes it with him, walking toward the railing before the rippling water. The trees lining the banks of the river sing with the breeze, the leaves moving with the charged air.

Jungkook leans on the railing, fingers grasping the cup of coffee. He takes a few sips, absent-mindedly watching the water that glitters underneath the moonlight. There are couples walking down the banks or riding bicycles, enjoying each other’s company.

He stands alone, looking out into the horizon and the rest of the city he can see.

Jungkook takes small sips, occasionally closing his eyes and keeping track of all the sounds he can hear, things he can feel. Happy laughter, the tring of a bicycle bell, the slow waves of the water, the warm breeze against his skin. It’s how he copes, how he’s been told to cope. He finds that it works, helps ground him.

Jungkook eventually finishes his coffee. He pulls away from the railing, walking over to the wastebasket to drop in his empty cup.

Deciding to head home, he takes a look down the walkway, vision traveling across the happy people, some leaning on the railing as he was.

His heart stops for a second, goosebumps erupting across his skin.

Baby

The first thing Jungkook thinks is that he looks different. His hair is now a platinum blonde, flowing with the breeze, mind fully occupied with the stunning view of the Han river.

He’s standing around 50 meters away but Jungkook would recognize him in an instant.

In the four years they’ve been apart, Jimin seems to have picked up the pieces. His skin is glowing, body no longer severely underweight. Jungkook looks at his soft side profile – the smooth slope of his button nose that he’s pressed kisses to more often than he can count, his plump lips that look as soft as ever.

Jungkook watches, almost dreaming as Jimin stands there, looking out into the river. He notices that Jimin is wearing leggings and a t-shirt, a duffel bag slung along his shoulder. It’s a shade of light blue, not the lavender one he remembers.

Jimin must have gotten back to dancing.

He feels like he’s floating, in a fever dream, being able to see Jimin after so long. The months right after they were separated had been extremely hard on him and he’d searched everywhere, genuinely believing that he would cease to exist if they were apart any longer.

Jungkook opens his mouth to call for him, shout his name, but his voice catches itself before his sacred name leaves his lips.

He wonders.

He wonders whether Jimin would come back to him. Would he push him away, scream? Would he run back into Jungkook’s arms as if they’d never spent a day apart? Would he slap him, curse his entire existence? Would he fall back in love? He wonders if he hates him.

Jungkook wonders if he has someone to care for him, whether someone else has occupied his place in his life.

And as life would have it, he doesn’t have to wonder much longer.

Somebody calls for Jimin, a voice he recognizes too well.

He watches as Jimin turns around, glowing hair still flowing with the breeze, his features softening as his vision lands on the person approaching him.

Love

Jungkook watches as Taehyung walks toward Jimin, a wide grin on his face, ice cream cones in each hand. It’s the extravagant type, with a long swirl and a cookie on top. He’s wearing a business suit, hair slicked back professionally, the sleeves of his suit jacket hiding his tattoos. He seems much more confident, well-settled in life although his smile makes him seem younger still, exactly the same as it was since they were kids.

Taehyung hands one of the ice cream cones to Jimin who takes it with a smile, leaning into his side as he throws an arm around his waist, enjoying their evening together. The taller man leans down to whisper something in his ear and they both giggle, still do even as Taehyung presses a soft kiss to his lips, eyes impossibly smitten as he looks at him.

They’re happy, and Jungkook can see it from a mile away.

He looks at Jimin’s happy face, smiling as Taehyung tells him some joke, leaning further into his side, like they can't bear to be separated. He watches as he keeps sneaking bites of Taehyung’s ice cream, even if it’s the same one he has, the taller man watching him fondly. They look like they’ve been happy for a while.

Jungkook looks at Jimin’s smile, committing it to memory – the way his cheeks bunch up, having regained their color, the sparkle in his eyes, his little crooked tooth visible as he smiles, plump lips petal pink. He thinks about how even now, 4 years later, Jimin has his heart in the palm of his hand, is all he can see. How even now, he’s still madly in love, wants nothing but him.

He thinks about how Jimin’s life probably is now – happy at work, healthy, in a wonderful, loving relationship with someone who would stop at nothing to give him the world.

Jungkook looks at Jimin and takes a deep breath.

He turns around, and he walks away.