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INT.  KIM NAMJOON’S APARTMENT – DAY

In the heart of Gangnam-gu, Seoul, South Korea, a very important decision is about to happen.

JIMIN, 29, an actor known as South Korea’s “It Boy,” both handsome and charming but a touch jaded, is slouched comfortably on a couch, flipping through a TV show script. NAMJOON, 30, always organized and sharing philosophical musings, sits nearby with his iPad. JIMIN is considering the script before him.

“Realistically, how much do you think this character will need to cry?”

“Given that you can cry on command, I don’t think that will be much of a problem.”

From his slouched position on the black leather couch, Park Jimin snickered and crossed one ankle over the other, his calves pressed to the armrest of the chair, his head comfortably on the pillow. His sunglasses, which were meant to be perched in his mess of black hair, slipped backwards as he shifted.

“Yoo Jihoon,” Jimin read, the casting breakdown printout in one hand, “is twenty-six and unlucky in love because he’s been pining after his best friend, Ahn Haewon, since high school. Average height with black hair and a charming smile, Jihoon is a dedicated wedding planner who takes care of other couples’ big days, but has never been able to think about his own. One day, Haewon comes to Jihoon and asks if he will plan her wedding to Jang Eunho, her longtime boyfriend. While covering up his feelings, he begins to uncover the sad truth about the marriage and Haewon’s family’s secrets.”

“Oh, the angst,” Kim Namjoon bemoaned in a flat voice full of sarcasm. “It’s a great role, though. Honestly. And they’re asking for you. It’d be a good change, too, since you just came off Sleight of Hand.”

“Mm. Haven’t done a rom-com in about three years, though this is a rom-com with a twist,” Jimin murmured, pursing his lips in thought and flipping back to the front of the casting breakdown to stare at the title of the drama he was prospectively going to jump into: Minor Altar-cations. Agreeing to an acting role was not something he did lightly, so he always picked Namjoon’s brain, and Namjoon delivered time and time again with a levelheadedness that Jimin sometimes lacked.

“Looks like pre-production won’t start until April, when the weather warms up,” Namjoon continued, pinching the arm of his glasses and pulling them off just to rub his eyes in a tired fashion before swiping his hand over his dark brown, short hair. As Jimin’s manager, Namjoon hardly ever rested, but he often quipped that relaxing just made him restless and that the work he did for Jimin’s sake was only ever entertaining for him. Years ago, it hadn’t been. Now that Jimin’s career was solidified and he was highly sought after in South Korea, Namjoon's job was mostly just maintenance and taking the shit out of Jimin at every opportune moment.

“So I’ll go from being a blackjack dealer turned assassin to a wedding planner who finds out family secrets,” Jimin mused, picking at the corner of the casting breakdown with his thumbnail. Grunting, he hoisted himself to a seated position, adjusting his half-buttoned shirt and resting his elbows on his knees. 

“Well, it’s January,” Namjoon pointed out, wiggling his chair back and forth with his heels dug into the ground. “That gives you a solid two-to-three months before the first table read and pre-production meetings, and it looks like filming might begin in May. From what I got in the email, they don’t even need an audition from you. They just want to snatch you up for the lead role.”

“Well, what’s the outcome?” Jimin asked, giving the paper a quick shake. “Do I become a homewrecker? Do I get the girl? Do all the family secrets suddenly mean nothing because romance? Because if that’s the case, I’m out. Not interested in that shit.”

“I can ask the casting director and the screenwriters,” Namjoon replied, grabbing his phone like he was about to draft an email. “They’re easy to persuade. Just say the word.”

“Do it.” Jimin stared at the title on the page, and then he grinned. “Hey, you know what this means?”

“Don’t say it.”

“I did spend three months in casinos.”

“You spent two weeks of those three months in America learning how to be a good marksman, too,” Namjoon complained, though he sounded amused. “Are you telling me that I now have to find a male wedding planner around age twenty-six for you to shadow?”

“How lucky do you think we’ll get in that search?” Jimin asked with a grin, tapping the rolled up paper against his palm. Namjoon looked pained but almost fondly resigned to his duties as Jimin’s manager. Namjoon had been with Jimin for a decade now; he had seen Jimin through his meteoric rise as an actor and then his meteoric (though expected) fall after announcing to all of South Korea that he was bisexual. He had then been there for Jimin’s second breath of life, his second rise to stardom after the “scandal” had blown over. And now, Namjoon was supporting Jimin as he crept towards his thirtieth birthday while hurtling towards what could be another peak.

Jimin had spent a solid year without work, most casting directors refusing to consider him for a role because of his sexuality being too “taboo.” He had gone from highly coveted to highly contagious in a heartbeat. Most professionals in the industry had grudgingly told him that signing Jimin to their project during his “coming out phase” meant certain death to the show and its ratings before the first episode ever aired. Jimin had just resigned and accepted his fate.

But then a Netflix series had taken a chance and had cast Jimin as the lead in a show meant for international appeal about a charismatic but sadistic serial killer (Jimin) on an airplane during an international flight. It was a dark and twisted script, but Jimin had eaten it right up, and so had the audience. The show had skyrocketed to the top of the ratings. An instant classic. All the rage. Jimin had even scored an interview on a few late-night shows in America for his work.

And then, gradually, one by one, those same casting directors who had shunned Jimin realized that Jimin was a chameleon, and that his sexuality had absolutely nothing to do with his acting. In fact, he became more appealing because he could play a love interest for men and women alike and appeal to broader audiences, especially international viewers. Not that Jimin enjoyed or appreciated the loophole that his industry loved, but the representation was important to him, so he still approached all new roles with care and caution. Now he was enjoying the fruits of his labor—casting directors sought him out directly.

“I don’t know. You were the blackjack dealer with all the luck,” Namjoon joked.

“Do you think I can be Yoo Jihoon?” Jimin asked conversationally. “Do I have a charming smile? I’m twenty-nine. Older than the character. I don’t think they care. Am I young and beautiful, hyung?”

“You’re insufferable is what you are,” Namjoon jabbed, and Jimin scoffed good-naturedly.

“Do you want to do the research for me, or do you want me to do it?” Jimin asked, because he always tried to take something off Namjoon’s plate. After all, Namjoon was dating Jimin’s best friend and fellow actor, and Jimin had set them up with each other. So of course, Jimin always made attempts to be as easy a client as possible (and a very good third wheel) so that Namjoon could spend time with his significant other.

“Eh. I’ll do it. Nothing a Naver search can’t fix,” Namjoon replied. “Just read through the casting breakdown tonight, and let me know in the morning if you want the role. I don’t think they want to wait long.”

“No problem.” Jimin hopped off the couch and readjusted his sunglasses, and then he grabbed his Louis Vuitton bag and slung it over one shoulder, tucking the paper into it. “Will you be home tomorrow morning? I’ll just come by with coffee.”

“Suck-up,” Namjoon murmured, but then he waved his hand. “That’s fine. Taehyung won’t be here.”

“And even if he was, I’d insert myself into the relationship like I always do,” Jimin said as he slipped his shoes on, knowing that his bodyguard was waiting downstairs in the lobby of Namjoon’s building for him. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you.”

MUSIC CUE: “heights” by walk the moon

Jimin pulled his sunglasses out of his hair and slipped them on, and then he took the elevator down to the ground floor. He grinned impishly, a little too much pep in his step out of sheer eagerness to be a brat, and then he crept up.

“Shit, fuck, don’t—you brat,” Kim Seokjin snapped tiredly as expected, and Jimin laughed, watching Seokjin tilt his head to the ceiling after being frightened by Jimin’s touch. He had his earbuds in and his eyes were glued to the screen, and Jimin could see that he was playing some kind of game.

“Language,” Jimin admonished teasingly.

“You made me do it,” Seokjin complained, shaking his head as he tucked his phone away. “I’m trying to get good at this game.”

“To beat your own child.”

“And if that’s why? He’s a formidable opponent. Don’t shame me,” Seokjin scolded, though he was trying not to smile. Seokjin was a single father with a five-year-old son named Minsu, and he had sole custody, since the relationship had ended terribly with Seokjin pulling his own son from the potential clutches of his ex-girlfriend’s abusive new boyfriend. Sometimes Jimin felt guilt for keeping Seokjin away from home, but Minsu thought his father had the coolest job in the world, so that made up for any bellyaching Jimin quietly did about it.

“Got a new role offer,” Jimin announced as Seokjin held Jimin’s coat out. Jimin rolled his eyes but did the usual twirl to slip his arms into the open coat, shrugging it on. He then clicked his tongue but accepted the scarf before they went out into the frigid January air, despite the bright sunlight. Jimin kept the coat open and the scarf unraveled, and he saw the look that Seokjin gave him, but he just raised his eyebrows, expecting a response from his friend.

“Oh, congratulations,” Seokjin flippantly replied, and Jimin fought a laugh. Seokjin, too, had been around for almost ten years and had learned far too much about Jimin in that decade. Both he and Namjoon tended to use a fond tone with Jimin, even though they feigned constant irritation. “What’s the role this time? Axe murderer?”

“Wedding planner.”

“So axe murderer,” Seokjin said as they walked towards the front doors of the building. Jimin promptly stuck his foot out to trip Seokjin but then caught Seokjin by the arm as Seokjin stumbled. “Yah, you can’t trip me and then save me. Let me be humiliated like you intended or leave me alone to die.”

“And they say I’m the actor,” Jimin replied, amused, but then he adjusted his scarf and continued. “Wedding planner who’s unlucky in love. And his best girlfriend, who he’s in love with, asks him to plan her wedding. What do we think?”

“Well, you just—go ahead.” Seokjin held open the door for Jimin, a cold wind blowing through. “You just came off a hit drama. Why not try the rom-com with a dramatic twist? You haven’t done one of those since your little comeback.”

“Well, Namjoon is checking with the screenwriters to make sure that I don’t get the girl or become a homewrecker,” Jimin said as they walked to the car. He could see several paparazzi waiting in the distance and snapping pictures, but he ignored it in his usual state of bliss. They always followed him around. “Because if that’s the storyline, then it’s tired and overdone.”

“Right. It would be way more interesting if you didn’t get the girl but ended up, like, fucking the groom,” Seokjin suggested, and Jimin snorted, closing the passenger side door of the car as Seokjin started the engine. “Okay, maybe not that. But it would be cool if your character planned the whole wedding and went through hell and then watched the girl get married, but in the end, you find some random ass person to fall in love with.”

“An axe murderer.”

“See, now you’re getting it,” Seokjin said as he pulled out of his parking spot.

The drive to Jimin’s secure, luxury apartment in Gangnam-gu wasn’t far from where Namjoon was situated along the Han River. Seokjin dropped Jimin off and walked him right to his apartment door as always, even though Jimin tried to shoo him away more often than not.

“Do I need to send someone for you tomorrow? I hate days when you don’t have a schedule,” Seokjin complained, folding his arms and surveying Jimin with curious eyes. 

“Mm…” Jimin paused just short of entering his keycode, glancing over one shoulder. “I said I’d drop by Namjoon’s place tomorrow to give him an answer about the role. That’s the only scheduled event I have until the GQ interview on Thursday.”

Seokjin flicked his eyebrows up in recognition. “Yeah, Namjoon has me down for that already. Tomorrow, yes or no?”

“Sure. You can send someone,” Jimin decided. “Nine o’clock for the car?”

“Done. Will you need me?” Seokjin asked. He was meant to be by Jimin’s side at all times, but their relationship had developed to something far beyond professional. They were two adults who could compromise, and Jimin knew when he needed a bit of a human shield. Seokjin had been with him all morning and into the afternoon because Jimin had been filming a few promotional videos for Louis Vuitton, since he was a brand ambassador.

“Nah. I’ll see you on Thursday,” Jimin declared, and then he punched in the code as Seokjin said his departing words and strolled down the hallway. The moment Jimin opened the door, he cooed and crouched down. “Hi, my baby. Did you miss me? Ah-h-h, look at you. You want to play? Dad’s a little tired.”

Winnie, Jimin’s two-year-old black rescue cat, stretched and then flopped onto her side on top of Jimin’s shoes before rolling and contorting in a few shapes, seeking attention. Jimin vigorously but carefully stroked her fur and rubbed her belly and scratched her ears, and then he stood up and dropped his bag off as Winnie followed him, slinking around his ankles. She sat and stared at Jimin with her bright green eyes while Jimin took his watch off.

“Hey, do you think I can do a rom-com?” Jimin asked Winnie conversationally, shuffling into his bedroom as he untucked his shirt and unbuttoned it before shrugging it off. He rummaged through a drawer as Winnie leapt up onto the bed, still staring. Jimin slipped into a large black t-shirt, and then he swapped his nice pants for a pair of sweatpants. “Be honest with me. I can take it.”

Jimin knelt down and rested the side of his head on the foot of his bed, using one hand to stroke Winnie’s fur as he sighed. There were pros and cons of being a celebrity, and one of the cons was that Jimin lived alone and talked to his cat, and his relationships never lasted. Winnie was the result of years of loneliness on Jimin’s part, and not because he didn’t have friends. Jimin had phenomenal friends and a loving family. He was anything but alone.

He felt like a walking cliché oftentimes. How typical was it that the celebrity actor was secretly sad about not having a significant other? I just want someone to love who will love me all the same. It was a line Jimin read in magazine interviews on an almost weekly basis, and it was a line that Jimin learned quickly not to give to anyone, lest they start calling him an “eligible bachelor.” Whenever interviewers asked Jimin about his love life, Jimin always said that he was in a relationship with himself and that such questions were tired and boring.

And then he bit his tongue to keep from saying the line.

It wasn’t for lack of trying. Jimin had had his fair share of hook-ups and fleeting relationships with men and women alike over the years, even through all the “scandalous” turmoil four years ago, and predictably, they had all ended, amicably but to Jimin’s disappointment. But like a hopeful fool, Jimin continued to find people to crush on when the opportunity presented, knowing that it would end with the other person either refusing to live in Jimin’s shadow or being too attached to the idea of Jimin and his fame, not Jimin himself.

You need to find someone who isn’t your love interest on screen. That dooms you from the start because then it’s just a fad. Just a little crush. That was what Taehyung always told Jimin after calling him a “hopeless romantic.” But Taehyung had a point—his own relationship with Namjoon was a fairytale because Namjoon understood the world Taehyung lived in but wanted nothing from it. If Taehyung lost his acting career, Namjoon would still love him. Jimin always struggled to find someone to date who wasn’t seeking benefits from Jimin’s career, or who wasn’t put off by Jimin’s fanbase. 

“Winnie,” Jimin sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. “Do I take this role or not? Seriously.”

Winnie wiggled and meowed, softly batting at Jimin’s arm with one paw, arching her head towards Jimin’s hand. Jimin obliged and ran one hand over her arms and the top of her small head.

“Okay, look at me.” Jimin grabbed Winnie and held her up as she meowed in protest, and then she just hung there, limp, as Jimin spoke while holding her at eye level. “I’m going to take this role, okay? Because I’m pretty sure Namjoon wanted to throw my name in for a historical zombie drama that’s been floating around out there. I’ve already done zombies. Rawr.”

Winnie meowed again. She was not amused.

“So I’ll try this show. It’s called Minor Altar-cations. My English is average, but that’s pretty clever, right? My fans will love it. You know how they love a good rom-com, especially one like this that isn’t just cheesy romance. And maybe they’ll stop asking to play blackjack with me. You know that decks of cards are still selling out because I had to carry a deck in my pocket for a solid goddamn year?” 

Jimin spoke casually as if Winnie was going to respond, trying not to laugh. He could have talked to himself, but Winnie was such a great listener. And he could have called Taehyung, or even Seokjin or Namjoon, to talk their ears off or laugh and share a virtual drink, but Winnie was the easiest and most accessible.

Jimin tossed Winnie onto the bed with care, and she landed softly on her feet and then leapt off the bed, following Jimin into the kitchen. Jimin ended up cooking a quick dinner of black bean noodles and fried eggs with some leftover green onion kimchi, and Winnie sat on the table and stared at him while he ate like she was planning something nefarious. 

He followed dinner with some TV and a bit of gaming, anything to unwind despite Winnie squirming in his lap and then fighting the potted fake fern plant in the corner near the sliding glass door. Jimin shouted over his show and threw his socks at her, and that pulled her away from the fern. Another pair of socks were sacrificed in the name of fake plant protection.

Jimin’s sleep schedule was nothing to be proud of, so to make matters worse for himself, he often picked early call times that forced him out of bed. So when he dragged his sorry self to the curb after a measly five hours of sleep, he knew he’d need to make a coffee stop to salvage his sanity.

“Just a detour to, uh… there’s this place in Itaewon,” he said tiredly with his mask on, his head on the headrest as he stared in the rearview mirror at his driver for the day, Yeonwoo. A familiar face.

“Elixir of life first?” Yeonwoo joked, since he had driven Jimin around for most of Sleight of Hand. “There are a thousand places in Itaewon. Happy to take you to your favorite, though.”

“Begging for it,” Jimin murmured as Yeonwoo chuckled, knowing Jimin all too well. “Just—yeah. The largest iced Americano that a human can consume. Two of them, actually. One for Namjoon. And whatever you want as well.”

Yeonwoo took the detour and pulled up to the new little drive-thru window for The Nook, Jimin’s favorite spot for coffee. The girl at the window recognized Jimin immediately and waved, and then she made the order in record time and grudgingly accepted Jimin’s money. As the car pulled away from the window, Jimin took the first sip, and it felt like the caffeine was being pumped right into his veins.

“Ah, look who it is,” Jimin murmured, popping his earbuds in and answering the phone call. “Hello?”

“I’ve been awake since half past four and I want to die.”

“Call time was what, six?”

“I can’t believe I agreed to this,” Kim Taehyung complained, even though Jimin knew he was kidding. Taehyung was just as, if not more, famous of an actor in South Korea as Jimin was. Taehyung’s forte, though, was historical dramas. He had dabbled in a few dramas as the villain and had been successful, but there was nothing quite like Kim Taehyung playing a prince in the Joseon Dynasty. 

“To be fair, you’ve agreed to a dozen other roles with the same call times,” Jimin said as he chewed on his straw with a grin, his mask pulled down to his chin.

“Sunrise scenes,” Taehyung sighed. “And now I have to film on a horse all afternoon, but I’m pretty sure I get to impale someone with a sword. Dramatic scene with all the blood in the snow. I want to make some riding jokes, but I need it to be obvious that I’m talking about riding dick, and I don’t think the crew will get it.”

“Do you think the general public assumes that we take all of our roles seriously?” Jimin teased, and Taehyung snickered. Jimin could picture him sitting on the ground against a wall with his own iced coffee despite the cold weather, probably wearing hanbok and in danger of being scolded by the costume design department for getting it dirty.

“At least I have a decent script. Remember Nights on Silk?” Taehyung said, and Jimin snorted with laughter. The one and only time he and Taehyung had worked together on a set when they were both twenty-one was on a historical drama. It was a cult classic, and it was how Jimin had met Taehyung in the first place, but the script had been a disaster. The show itself had been an unexpected hit, and it had shoved both Jimin and Taehyung into the spotlight. But Jimin had chosen to come out as bisexual five years later. Taehyung had yet to speak a word about his sexuality and declared that he didn’t owe anyone anything.

Never mind that he and Namjoon had been together for almost five years.

“We don’t talk about Nights on Silk. Did Namjoon tell you?” Jimin said vaguely.

“Tell me what? About the weather? How great I am in bed? Or are you talking about the rom-com role you were offered?” Taehyung listed airily as Yeonwoo pulled up to Namjoon’s building. Jimin grinned, unbuckling his seatbelt.

“I’m at your house,” Jimin announced. “I’m going to accept the role. Seems like a fun one.”

“Well, now you’re going to have to find a wedding planner to shadow,” Taehyung said, knowing Jimin’s habits all too well, knowing that Jimin liked to train and research and immerse himself in whatever role he was playing. Now nearly thirty, Jimin was proficient in horseback riding, sword fighting and sword dance, Korean fan dance, poker and blackjack and nearly every other gambling card game, marksmanship, cooking, swimming, ballroom dancing, archery, and a dozen other skills. He always studied his characters’ careers and hobbies.

“You know any male wedding planners in their late twenties in Korea?” Jimin asked, reaching forward and cupping his hand on Yeonwoo’s shoulder in thanks before grabbing his Louis Vuitton bag and grunting as he stepped out of the car. “I’m always looking for recommendations.”

“I don’t know a single wedding planner, but I do know a florist,” Taehyung said as if that was helpful. “Let me know if your character needs to woo anyone with flowers. Namjoon said he wants you to take the role, by the way. So thanks for keeping him happy.”

“Well, you know I’m a great friend,” Jimin replied. “I’m always trying to make my boyfriends happy.”

“Gag,” Taehyung sighed, and Jimin could hear him standing up as they both stifled their laughter. “Alright, that’s it for my break. I’ll be back in Seoul for the weekend. We can do dinner.”

“Have fun impaling someone with a sword,” Jimin said as Yeonwoo stepped out of the car on the other side. “When you ride the horse, make sure you spell ‘coconut’ with your hips.’”

“Boo-o-o-o-oo,” was Taehyung’s evaluation. “I was going to ask to be smacked on my ass to giddy up, but anyways.”

“Eh. Two out of ten. Dinner would be great. You’re paying.”

“Rock, paper, scissors.” And then Taehyung hung up as Jimin tiredly grinned again.

“Will you be here long?” Yeonwoo asked, standing by the driver’s side car door. Jimin slung his bag over his shoulder, and then he ducked back into the car with another little grunt and grabbed both his and Namjoon’s iced coffees. He hooked one pinky finger into his mask and pulled it back up over his nose and mouth.

“Maybe an hour or two. Or maybe until dinner. Actually—yeah, I’ll just call you,” Jimin decided, because he considered lunch or maybe a jog in the park, since Namjoon liked to do cardio at spontaneous moments. “Thank you, Yeonwoo.”

“Always a pleasure,” Yeonwoo said with a small bow, and then he hopped back into the car and drove off as Jimin buzzed up to Namjoon’s apartment. In the elevator, he could feel the condensation dripping onto his fingers from the iced coffee cups meeting the heated building, so when Jimin reached Namjoon’s door with his hands full, he used his foot to knock.

“My hero,” Namjoon said, accepting the coffee as he opened the door further.

“I’ll take the role.”

“Uh, good morning to you, too,” Namjoon responded with a laugh as Jimin kicked his shoes off, fighting a smile. He glanced up, coffee in one hand.

“You hate when I beat around the bush, so I’m letting you know that I had a really deep and meaningful conversation with Winnie, and we agreed that I should take the role,” Jimin said as he hung his coat up, and then he padded over to the couch in with socked feet and plopped down, setting his coffee aside. When he saw the wary look Namjoon was giving him, he added, “That’s a half-truth. I did talk to her, but I also seriously considered it.”

“You won’t end up as a homewrecker,” Namjoon said, settling into his comfortable desk chair and grabbing his iPad. “I badgered the casting director for some information, and she consulted with the screenwriters. We obviously won’t know the vibes until the first table read, but the script seems solid. They know you’re picky.”

“See, the way you say that makes it sound like a compliment,” Jimin said, folding his hands across his abdomen and then picking at his sweater. “Is it a good thing that I’m picky?”

“Yes,” Namjoon said without hesitation. “Because you’re not throwing yourself at the first role that breathes in your direction. You know your worth as an actor and you pick your roles accordingly. That’s the sign of a professional, and the casting director and screenwriters and everyone involved in this project know that. I think that’s why they’re gunning for you and why they literally dove into the script to deny the homewrecker thing.”

“Well, as long as you’re getting a good vibe, then I’m in. Have they cast the role of Ahn Haewon yet?” Jimin wondered.

“No, so I’m sure you’ll be called in to do a screen test with their top picks,” Namjoon replied. “So you’re in? I can confirm that and have them send over the contract for your lawyer to review?”

“I’m in,” Jimin said, feeling the rush of adrenaline that came with accepting a brand new project and knowing that he was about to fulfill a new role. Yoo Jihoon. That was a name that he was going to have to embrace for the next year or so, a name he had to get comfortable with quickly.

“Great. I’ll email them,” Namjoon replied. “Now, about shadowing a wedding planner.”

“Look, if it works out, it works out,” Jimin conceded. “I asked Taehyung, and he doesn’t know any wedding planners.”

“Mm. Taehyung knows every rat in every alleyway, so if he doesn’t know of one, then I don’t know if my Naver search will give us much,” Namjoon said with a fond smile. He was right; Jimin was an extrovert and a social butterfly, but Taehyung was pure magnetism. “Let me look. You look, too.”

So Jimin whipped out his phone and started searching around, chewing the inside of his mouth as a bad habit and typing in as many keywords as he could think of while Namjoon did the same. Namjoon turned on some lo-fi jazz music for background noise, a habit he had picked up courtesy of Taehyung (a self-proclaimed jazz aficionado). They chatted back and forth, drinking iced coffee and chuckling at some of the websites they found, but after about an hour, they came up empty.

“Okay, new theory.” Jimin held up one hand as if commanding the attention of the room. Namjoon just adjusted his beanie and chewed on his straw. “I go onto YouTube and find a video about a day in the life of a wedding planner.”

“And that will satisfy you?” Namjoon asked, arching one eyebrow. “You, the perfectionist? Taehyung is the one who does Instagram Q-and-A’s asking if anyone has ever seriously lived in the Joseon Dynasty period.”

“In his defense, the responses are hilarious.”

“They are, but that’s not the point,” Namjoon said, deep dimpled indents forming in his cheeks as he leaned forward, fighting a smile. “The point is, you’re not a half-assed actor, so unless you look me in the eye and promise me that you’re okay with it and are willing to just go into this role with minimal research or background knowledge…”

Jimin pursed his lips, reaching his right hand across his body to massage his left shoulder. “I mean, I can’t always have the perfect solution. I could shadow a dozen wedding planners around Seoul. They just may not be guys in their mid-twenties. I can make it work. It’s just the job that I need to shadow, you know? So I can get an idea of how it works and what my character is like. Is it stupid?”

“You ask that every time.”

“Yeah, well, when I was twenty-one and I hired an Olympic swim coach to train me for that role, remember that? So many people called me crazy and told me to just get a stunt double,” Jimin recalled.

“Yeah, but you didn’t, and it turned out fucking great onscreen when you were the one actually diving into the damn pool,” Namjoon recalled all the same. “You got a ton of praise for that role, Jimin. So your methods aren’t stupid. It’s your craft. Do it how you want.”

“Alright, well… I guess we can contact a few of the wedding planners in the area and see what we can come up with,” Jimin decided, but Namjoon clicked his tongue, brow furrowed. Jimin took that as a sign to hold his horses, so he waited, because he could see the wheels turning in Namjoon’s head.

“Okay, hear me out.” He set his iPad aside and reached for his phone. “We take the shit out of Taehyung for his social media habits, and rightfully so, because he’s a clown. But what if we use social media to our advantage?”

“What are you suggesting?” Jimin wondered, grinning as he remembered the Instagram livestream he had done with Taehyung about a year ago. 

“What if we just ask people? Ask around. You have millions of followers. What if we just put out an all-call?” Namjoon suggested. “If there’s anyone in South Korea or, hell, anywhere, who’s male, mid-twenties, wedding planner—hit us up.”

“That… That could work,” Jimin quietly said, the wheels in his head now turning along with Namjoon’s. “That’s not a bad idea. It would be like our own casting call, wouldn’t it? If we can control the intake and filter out the trolls, we could actually find something.”

“There’s no such thing as control when it comes to this kind of thing,” Namjoon sighed. “But that’s why you have a manager.” He gestured to himself grandly. “You can put a post on your Instagram and your Twitter. I’ll make a separate email account where potential candidates can email some basic information. And then I’ll filter through everything and maybe we’ll find a winner.”

“This feels like a weird kind of fan meeting,” Jimin grumbled, but he fought back a smile, feeling a tinge of excitement as Namjoon wheeled his chair over towards the couch with his iPad at-the-ready. 

It took another delivery order of coffee, delivered lunch, and a social media break to watch a few kittens being rescued for Namjoon and Jimin to collaboratively come up with a decent post that they could send out into the world. By mid-afternoon, Jimin posted the all-call on his social media, asking for exactly what he and Namjoon had decided—male wedding planners in their mid-to-late twenties with some experience and permission for Jimin to shadow for a few weeks to a month or two.

“Do we go for a run, or do we cook dinner and lie on the couch until we become one with the fabric?” Namjoon asked as Jimin locked his phone, ignoring the notifications he was getting from posting.

“Hyung, it’s half past four. It’s not dinnertime. Let’s go for a run, and then we can cook dinner and turn into fake leather,” Jimin decided.

With the all-call posted and the casting director emailed, Jimin and Namjoon went running together, and Jimin spent most of his run (wearing a baseball cap the entire time) thinking of the transition into a new role. There was always a sense of nervous excitement that came with embodying a new character, especially when Jimin tended to immerse himself in the world. The prospect of finding a potential wedding planner to shadow was thrilling, even though it was technically classified as work.

But it didn’t happen that day. By the time they finished dinner together, Namjoon laughed that he had a few dozen emails in his inbox for the email account he had created, but he wanted to wait. They had provided a strict time limit for an expression of interest, after all.

“We’ll meet on Friday,” Namjoon said as Jimin slipped into his coat and prepared to leave for the night, Yeonwoo already on his way. “I’ll see you on Thursday for the interview.”

“Fuck, I forgot,” Jimin sighed, pulling his face mask on. Then he contemplated. “But I think it’s a photoshoot and a decent interviewer. Can’t talk about this role yet, though. Not—”

“Without a contract,” Namjoon chimed in along with Jimin, and they both laughed as Namjoon opened the door. “See you.”

Jimin stepped into the hallway with his hands in his pockets. The itch to check social media to see if there was a conversation about his all-call was strong. It wasn’t his best trait, but Jimin liked to check what the response was to any of his decisions. His brand reputation ranking was always in the top five. He had praise and critical acclaim following him everywhere.

But even so, there was always the lingering, phantom fear that the universe was going to reverse its karma, and he would lose everything.

INT. THE NOOK – FRIDAY MORNING

NAMJOON is waiting in the corner of the coffee shop with several devices set up. JIMIN arrives for their morning meeting as agreed.

“You have to read this.”

Jimin snickered. “Good morning to you, too.”

“Yeah, sit down,” Namjoon insisted. They had agreed to meet at The Nook this time instead of Jimin picking up coffee, and Namjoon had commandeered a cozy corner and had his laptop set up, his iPad in his lap, his phone on the tabletop. For someone who preferred to be in nature, Namjoon was constantly surrounded by screens.

“Did you find anything good?” Jimin asked, shrugging out of his coat with a small smile. Namjoon’s palpable enthusiasm gave away that he probably had. Neither of them had bothered to vet the emails yesterday during the photoshoot and interview, so surely last night Namjoon had found some winners.

“Oh, I found some of the most awful shit you’ve ever seen,” Namjoon said with a dimpled grin. “And by that, I mean people were emailing with things like, ‘I’m not a wedding planner but,’ and ‘I once knew a guy who…’”

“So you’ve seen the best of the best.”

“Without a doubt,” Namjoon concurred. “But…” 

Jimin scooted his chair closer when he saw Namjoon sliding the iPad in his direction, and there was an email on the screen. Jimin used a few fingers to pull the iPad closer, and then he read:

Hello,

I’m emailing because I saw an all-call post on Park Jimin’s social media accounts. One of my closest friends is a wedding planner. He’s Korean, but he lives and works in Los Angeles. He’s 27 and he’s been a wedding planner for almost five years, and he has nothing but rave reviews from the clients he’s helped.

He’s also a massive fan of Jimin’s and has watched every show Jimin has been in. By “massive fan,” I don’t mean creepy or unbearable. Just a huge admirer and very starstruck. Honestly, I think he’d be a great person for Jimin to shadow. He’s awesome at his job and very outgoing when he’s working, but he’s kind of shy in real life. My husband says that he embodies the word “sweetheart.” I just feel like this would be good for him.

I didn’t exactly tell him I was emailing, but I don’t think he’d ever email you himself. So if you pick him, he’ll likely pass out from shock.

His website is: manwithaplanweddings.com

Sincerely,

Min Yoongi

“Man with a plan,” Jimin said in English, holding back a laugh. “Clever. Okay, so he’s twenty-seven, Korean, currently living in Los Angeles. And he’s a fan. All good things, right?”

“Right. Now look at his website,” Namjoon said, peering over the top of the screen to click on the hyperlink. Jimin clicked, and it brought him to a sleek, modern, minimalistic website with scrolling, bright photos that weren’t stock photos. It was clear that the photos were from real weddings this man had planned. Jimin clicked on ABOUT, and there was a picture.

“Oh.”

“Did you really just give me the main character ‘oh’?” Namjoon complained, and Jimin snorted, using two fingers to pinch and zoom in on the photo. The wedding planner went by the name “JK,” according to his little biography (probably a nickname), and he was a type of handsome that Jimin had not seen in a long time. He had mint green hair with an undercut, at least half a dozen piercings in both ears, an eyebrow piercing, a stud in his nose, and a lip ring, but his pictorial appearance was that of a mischievous angel.

“Well, he’s not difficult to look at,” Jimin commented, still reading the details of the bio. “Moved to Los Angeles at eighteen to study, open to planning weddings for everyone of every gender and sexuality—my kind of guy. What are the reviews like?”

“Sparkling,” Namjoon answered, clicking on the tab. “You know how there are some websites where you can tell the reviewer was mildly coerced into leaving the review? These reviews are pretty genuine.”

“Were there any other stand-out candidates?” Jimin wondered, sitting back in his chair and reaching for his coffee at the same time. Namjoon shook his head.

“There were about half a dozen male wedding planners in that age bracket who emailed me, but honestly, none of them stood out like this JK guy. Plus, his friend emailing and not him makes it funnier,” Namjoon decided. “What do you think?”

“Mm.” Jimin frowned slightly in thought, rubbing one finger over his bottom lip pensively. “Well, the media is already announcing that I’m in talks to play the male lead for the show.”

“It’ll be confirmed on Monday. They’ve narrowed down the female leads, and Shin Bora is one of them, so you know the screen test with you will go well and she’ll get the role,” Namjoon said, and Jimin’s frown turned into a small smile. At the very least, Bora was a known colleague and friend of Jimin’s within the industry, and they had good chemistry on-screen.

“So then maybe we should book my flight to Los Angeles for Monday,” Jimin decided. “And send someone in before me to clean up my apartment, because heaven only knows how much dust it’s collected in the last year.”

“Done and done,” Namjoon said, already on his phone. “I’ll email… uh, Min Yoongi back and let him know that his friend is the lucky winner.”

“Do you think Min Yoongi will tell his friend?” Jimin wondered, arching one eyebrow.

“I think it would be funnier if he didn’t,” Namjoon said with a small smile. “But I digress. The guy looked pretty cool. JK? He looks like a decent person. And if he’s a fan, that would make it easier to get along with him.”

“Yes and no,” Jimin agreed half-heartedly, because he had had fan experiences in the past that had ended both triumphantly and miserably. “I’ll just go to his office and see if he’ll let me shadow him.”

“How long do you think you’ll need to be in Los Angeles?” Namjoon wondered. “I mean, we can fly you back and forth for any table reads or pre-production meetings, but it would be good to let the director know.”

“Depends on what JK can offer,” Jimin replied. “But I’d like to see as much as possible if he agrees to help me out. So I’ll say a month or two.”

“You make planning your schedule difficult,” Namjoon grumbled, though he was used to it and often had the same good-natured complaint each go-round. Jimin smiled.

“You know I appreciate it,” he said softly. “Your dedication to this. Not thinking I’m crazy for method acting and researching roles.”

“Well, I may take the shit out of you,” Namjoon began as he opened up a new email to compose, “but I wouldn’t work for anyone else. I don’t want to manage a half-hearted actor. Now let me email Min Yoongi, and you can have your moment.”

“My moment? Ah,” Jimin said with an embarrassed laugh, but then he owned it as Namjoon grinned, glancing up to watch. Jimin shimmied slightly, got himself into character, and then wistfully picked up his coffee.

“Lord,” Namjoon murmured.

“Shh, don’t interrupt.”

“Oh, he’s acting.”

Jimin took a sip of coffee and let out a dramatic sigh, and then he propped his chin on his fist, staring off dreamily into the distance, hearing Namjoon’s snicker. 

“Say the line,” Namjoon coaxed.

Jimin changed his expression as if he was being filmed. Then he delivered the line. “I wonder what JK is doing right now.”

Namjoon clapped his hands once loudly. “A-a-a-and cut to the next scene, JK’s point of view, funky pop music plays—”

INT. MAN WITH A PLAN WEDDINGS – ANOTHER DAY

In a loft office space in Los Angeles, JEONGGUK, 27, Korean, charismatic with a mischievous sense of humor but a self-proclaimed hopeless romantic, is entertaining his spunky assistant YUNA, 19, with his wedding planning anecdotes.

“Picture it.”

MUSIC CUE: “love (sweet love)” by little mix

Jeon Jeongguk used one foot to push off the ground, kneeling high on his rolling office chair as he soared across his studio, gripping the top of the backrest. As the chair slowed down, he twisted his upper body so it would spin.

“It’s—oops. All hands on deck,” he interrupted himself, watching as several items tumbled off the desk as he rammed into the corner with a soft but firm thwunk. From her chair behind the desk, Shin Yuna stifled a laugh.

“It’s half past three,” Jeongguk said dramatically, swiping his hand across his eyes as if setting the scene. “The guests are all seated. The bratty ring bearer—” Jeongguk swiftly and dramatically slithered down the chair until Yuna could only see his raised hand, and she snorted with laughter. “Still has the rings in his possession. Everything is going according to plan. It’s time for the groom to walk down the aisle.”

“I can’t believe people pay you to plan their weddings,” Yuna griped, grinning.

“You’re in the audience!” Jeongguk said loudly, and Yuna burst out laughing as Jeongguk popped up and spun the chair, and then he reached forward and grabbed a white doily from the stack on Yuna’s desk. He pretended to dab his eyes. Yuna was in near tears, twirling a pen between her fingers. “The wedding march is about to play. But is it the wedding march?”

“Can’t be,” Yuna agreed.

“It’s the yassification of the wedding march with!” Jeongguk snapped and shot a single finger gun at Yuna as she snickered. “The groomsmen in drag.”

“That would never happen,” Yuna laughed, but Jeongguk held up a hand.

“With my groom? The guy whose entire posse of groomsmen participate in drag? I could make it happen and it would be absolutely phenomenal,” Jeongguk argued, finally settling into his chair and pushing it back far enough to kick his heels up on the corner of the desk. “You could trust me with something like that. It’s just a shame that his husband-to-be isn’t on board with the idea.”

“Don’t tell me you actually pitched that to them,” Yuna said, jokingly mortified.

“Of course I didn’t. Let me dream,” Jeongguk sighed, and then he hoisted himself up. “That being said, the reception menu is almost complete.”

“The first few place cards look cute, right?” Yuna asked, tilting her head towards her little work table beside her desk.

“Appropriately adorable.”

“I’m almost done writing the rest of the names.”

“Then I’ll stop making fake scenarios,” Jeongguk said with a sigh of feigned disappointment. “Guess I’ll save those for when I’m just about to fall asleep.”

Yuna giggled and slipped her AirPods back in, and Jeongguk retreated, using his heels to push his chair back to his own desk. Once he spun around the corner and settled in, he sighed and glanced back over. Yuna was back to work, eyes focused on her laptop with a hint of a smile still on her face, muted blonde hair twisted and piled messily on the top of her head, clear-framed glasses on. She was nineteen, Korean American, and only in her first year of university, but Jeongguk had needed an intern, and Yuna had found him. So now it was Man With a Plan Weddings, and the plus one was a very determined businesswoman.

The current wedding that Jeongguk was planning was a no-brainer. He was planning it in his sleep. The RSVPs were trickling in, both grooms were blissfully unaware of what was going on behind the scenes while paying Jeongguk like royalty, and that was all that mattered. Jeongguk was good at his job. And people paid him for it.

“Vegan,” Jeongguk muttered to himself, drumming his fingers against his bottom lip as he leaned in to mark the little menu that he was creating. It was risky to not give guests an option as to which meal they would get, but the happy couple swore that everyone would be fine with the vegan meal, so who was Jeongguk to question? He had gently suggested offering up something else, but they had nicely turned him down. Which was fine. Jeongguk didn’t get paid to argue.

This wedding was a piece of cake, all puns intended, and the ceremony was in June specifically for Pride Month. Jeongguk had several other clients in the pipeline, all in different stages of planning. Life was nothing short of chaos when he spent his days carefully crafting a special event to remember that was meant to be the foundation for a loving marriage.

“This seating chart is going to be a mess,” Yuna suddenly called out, removing one AirPod. “And for the opposite reason.”

“What, it won’t be the ‘my second cousin hates my best friend’s sister and my aunt fucked my brother’s soccer coach’ problem?” Jeongguk invented on the spot, and Yuna snorted, shaking her head.

“No, the problem is that they’ve marked everyone as special,” she said with a sigh. “And not all the tables are close to the front.”

“What if we just line up all the tables equally so that everyone can stare at the grooms while they eat?” Jeongguk suggested, and then he wheeled his chair over quickly towards Yuna’s desk and parked right in front of her, putting on a scowl and staring at her while pretending to eat. Yuna buried her face in her hands, shoulders shaking with laughter, and then she groaned and stretched her arms.

“I’m going downstairs to get lunch. You want Chipotle?” she asked. Jeongguk rolled back towards his desk again, glancing down and noticing that his nail polish was chipping. Frowning, he glanced up, and then he gave Yuna a smile.

“Yeah, go for it. You know my order.”

Yuna swapped her glasses for sunglasses and ducked out of the office while shrugging into a light jacket. Jeongguk’s loft office was on the second floor of a quaint little strip of modern shops, and the location was prime and also brand new. Jeongguk had started in a tiny little apartment with nothing but his laptop and a few bottles of soju to keep him motivated. Now he had an actual location on Google, rent to pay, and an office space filled with plants that he had to keep alive.

The rest of the afternoon was a flurry of Chipotle, fielding phone calls from venues and vendors (and an argument with Jeongguk’s least favorite photo booth company), and sending off the place card designs for printing. Yuna left close to six o’clock, but Jeongguk remained, agonizing over the small details that required his attention and remembering that tomorrow, he had to create a budget spreadsheet for his newest client.

For someone who had lived in a rundown, dingy studio apartment in Los Angeles upon arriving in California years ago, Jeongguk reckoned that he was faring well now that he was established and thriving in his own business. He now owned a little house in Pasadena, just on the edge of Los Angeles. People often asked why he chose to move out of the city a year ago. With a sigh of relief to accompany him, Jeongguk always said that he wanted a change of pace and some quiet.

Or maybe he had moved to a little house because he was living on the edge of a fantasy. Jeongguk was a self-proclaimed and outsider-labeled hopeless romantic. It certainly fit his job description to be the way he was. He was twenty-seven and had only two ex-girlfriends and one ex-boyfriend in his lifetime. He planned weddings and surrounded himself with the concept of love, but it had never happened for him. Perhaps that was the curse of wedding planning— always the bridesmaid, never the bride. Wasn’t that the saying?

Jeongguk wanted to hear bells when he met his soulmate. He wanted to be wooed and swept off his feet in all the cheesiest, most rom-com ways that were possible. He wanted to be loved, and he had so much love to give in return. But he had also seen so much hatred. So many couples had weddings that felt more like masquerades. But even so, Jeongguk could still watch every romantic comedy K-drama available to him and giggle while gripping his blankets and dragging his cat closer to him.

“Ah, I should have brought you to the office,” Jeongguk lamented when he unlocked his front door and flicked on the light with a little smile. His orange tabby cat, Tigger, stretched and then brushed up against his leg. “Maybe tomorrow. How have you been?”

Tigger flopped onto the floor and rolled to expose his belly, paws near his face, and Jeongguk grinned, locking the front door and reaching down to scratch Tigger lovingly before he walked down the narrow hallway, the wooden floorboards creaking. Tigger followed loyally, leaping up onto the barstool as Jeongguk explored the kitchen for some leftovers to eat. He used his tongue to play with the lip ring in the right corner of his bottom lip, contemplating.

Jeongguk heated up some leftovers and then plopped down in front of his television, flicking through Netflix until he found the show that he had been binging. He was watching it for the third time, but Winter in the Water was one of his favorites. It was from eight years ago, but it still struck a chord deep within Jeongguk. It was a romantic comedy type of show starring Park Jimin and Shin Bora, wherein Jimin’s character was an Olympic swimmer who met a perfectionist ice skater. It ticked all the boxes—cheesy, cliché, and sob-worthy with a heart-fluttering first kiss scene. It was one of the highest rated dramas eight years ago and it was timeless, in Jeongguk’s opinion.

“I know you’re supposed to like the cold, but that doesn’t mean you can be cold to me,” Jeongguk whispered under his breath as he scooped up some rice. As he munched, Park Jimin delivered that very same line to an upset Shin Bora. If given the chance, Jeongguk could quote half of the shows he watched in his sleep.

If life was like the shows he binged, Jeongguk would have met his soulmate and the love of his life at age twenty-five in a coffee shop, or maybe even at one of the weddings he planned when they spilled a drink on him. He would have been treated to a whirlwind romance with plenty of witty one-liners and fun pop music playing in the background. 

Instead, he spent his night re-painting his nails while watching another episode of his show, Tigger curled up underneath the coffee table comfortably.

“Oh.” Jeongguk carefully grabbed his phone, avoiding ruining his nails. “Yeah, hello?”

“Hey.”

“Uh, hey,” Jeongguk said with a chuckle. “What’s up? Are you bored?”

“Mm. I’m editing,” Min Yoongi said on the other line, sounding bored. “Hoseok’s coming home tomorrow.”

Yoongi had the illusionary fairytale life that Jeongguk sometimes coveted. Jeongguk had met Yoongi through his work because Yoongi was a photographer, and Jeongguk had hired him for a couple (now divorced) a few years ago. They were both Korean transplants, so they had a lot in common. Yoongi had met his husband of nearly two years by pure chance; Jung Hoseok was a pilot and he was based in Los Angeles, constantly flying back and forth to South Korea. And Jeongguk had virtually imprinted on both of them.

“How long will he be home?”

“Almost a week this time,” Yoongi said, sounding rather pleased. “We might go to the mountains. I was just wondering if you’re going to be working tomorrow or the next day.”

“Uh, obviously,” Jeongguk said, leaning back against his couch as Tigger crawled out from under the coffee table and settled into Jeongguk’s lap. “Why, are you guys going to come around and visit me?”

“I mean, we can if you want,” Yoongi said in his deep voice, clicking his tongue as a clear indicator that he was focusing. Jeongguk even heard him remove his glasses as he sighed. “Sorry. Full attention on you.”

Jeongguk grinned. “Well, you’re the one who called me.”

“I know. I don’t know why. Just haven’t talked to you in a couple days. Have you been on social media much?”

“Uh, not really?” Jeongguk put a question mark in his tone of voice, letting out a light chuckle. “Hyung, if you’re trying to ask me for something, just spit it out. You only say stupid shit like this when you want something from me.”

“Okay, you got me. I’m trying to ask if you can look after the house if we go to the mountains.”

“Bullshit, but okay. I have a key anyways,” Jeongguk replied. “Which photos are you editing?”

“Nothing for your clients. They’re a few of those fashion shots I was telling you about,” Yoongi vaguely said, and Jeongguk hummed in acknowledgment. “Hey, uh, I’ll let you go. Good talk. Call me if anything interesting happens at work. Tell me things about your life. Have you downloaded that dating app yet?”

“You’re about as subtle as a fucking sledgehammer,” Jeongguk grumbled, and Yoongi snorted with laughter.

“Okay, in my defense, you’re the one who said you were interested in dating apps. It worked for me,” Yoongi said, and Jeongguk fought back a smile. It had. Yoongi was an introvert and Hoseok felt he hardly had time to try dating, so when they had met through a dating app and hit it off immediately, Jeongguk had felt inspired. But he kept chickening out, always hoping fruitlessly that someone would walk into his life.

“Good talk,” Jeongguk said dismissively, and Yoongi laughed again.

“Yeah, talk to you later.”

“Goodnight, hyung.”

“Goodnight.”

Jeongguk hung up, and then he stared at his screen, holding the phone just above Tigger’s head. With one hand in soft fur, he hovered over the App Store. But then he snickered at himself and tossed his phone aside, reaching for the remote again.

Today was not the day.

EXT. MAN WITH A PLAN WEDDINGS – ONE WEEK LATER

JIMIN is riding shotgun with SEOKJIN, 32, behind the wheel driving through Los Angeles in the morning. JIMIN is fresh off his flight from Seoul. SEOKJIN gives off the air of just being along for the ride.

“I think this is the place.”

“Is it on the second floor?”

“Looks like it.” Jimin bent and craned his neck to glance out the car window, and then he nodded, sunglasses still on. “Yeah, I think this is it.”

“You want me to hang around?” Seokjin put the car in park. He always traveled with Jimin, even though Jimin was going to dismiss him after a week or two so he could go home to Minsu. Seokjin always anticipated it, but he also always insisted on doing his job and being with Jimin. Namjoon was back at Jimin’s apartment, sleeping off the jetlag.

“Uh…” Jimin contemplated, rubbing his lips together. “Yeah. I’ll text you otherwise. But I don’t think I’ll be there long.”

He glanced out the window again at the sign: MAN WITH A PLAN WEDDINGS. He was in the right place. His flight from Korea had landed bright and early in Los Angeles, and Jimin had just gone to his apartment to shower and change, not tired in the slightest. He wanted to get started.

The role of Yoo Jihoon was his—it had been officially announced to the public. Just two days ago, Jimin had done his (quite unnecessary but mandatory) screen test with Bora, and now she had been cast as Ahn Haewon. Social media was buzzing with excitement about their on-screen reunion, and Jimin had been photographed at the airport leaving for Los Angeles, telling paparazzi that he was going to America to prepare for the role and that he would come back safely.

This was the first step of preparation—meet JK.

Jimin stepped out of the car and adjusted his sunglasses. Being in Los Angeles always felt a bit more liberating, since people didn’t recognize him here like they did on the streets of Gangnam. Jimin was just wearing black pants and a lightweight white and sapphire blue striped sweater, sleeves pushed up since the weather was balmy with a bit of a chill in the breeze, a departure from the snow in Seoul.

The staircase up to the second floor was an L-shape, so Jimin hopped up the steps and cautiously approached the office. By appointment only, the door said. Jimin didn’t have an appointment, but he just hoped that perhaps he would be welcomed regardless. Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door.

Overhead, he heard the sound of bells from what seemed to be a windchime. The entire office smelled like a mixture of lemongrass and lavender, soothing and welcoming. The floors were light wood, the walls were clean white, and there were plants everywhere. Jimin was able to take in two desks, a few easels with boards, a lot of ribbon and flowers, and stacks of papers before he heard a voice.

“Hello-o-o-o, can I help… you?”

The voice spoke in English, but Jimin knew enough to understand. The bells of the windchime faded as the only man in the office space glanced up from his computer. Jimin gently laced his fingers together, and then he pushed his sunglasses up into his hair and looked at JK. 

The picture was hardly enough to do him justice. He did indeed have the faded mint hair and the undercut and all the piercings, but the way he looked at Jimin was like a scene out of a movie—big eyes full of stars and a hint of constant happiness. When he abruptly stood up, the water bottle on his desk toppled over, but he didn’t seem to care. He was tall and visibly fit and exactly what Jimin needed to see after a long flight across the ocean.

“Um…”

MUSIC CUE: “everybody rise” by amy shark

“Hi. I’m assuming that you’re JK, since you match the picture I saw on your website,” Jimin said in Korean with a small smile. JK now had his bottom lip between his teeth as he blankly stared at Jimin in what had to be shock. “Your friend emailed my manager to say that you, uh… well, I just took on a new role in an upcoming romantic comedy as a wedding planner, so…”

You’re smoother than this. What are you even saying? Pull it together.

There was something jarring about the way JK was looking at Jimin. It made him feel completely exposed, but not in a bad way. JK just looked so startled by the fact that Jimin was standing in his office that Jimin didn’t even know how to act.

“I’m Jimin,” Jimin said plainly with a breathy laugh, and that was when JK snapped out of it. He inhaled sharply, came out from behind his desk, and then bowed to Jimin ninety degrees twice in a row, pausing in between to check that Jimin was real and not a hologram.

“What… You’re… Are you in my office?” JK asked. “My who emailed your what?”

Jimin held back a laugh, taking another step away from the door. It was then that JK’s face split into a radiant smile, and he bowed again.

“What are you—? Hi. It’s nice to meet you. Wow. You’re a real person standing in my office. You’re even more handsome in person. I was just watching you on TV last night. That’s way too much information. Um, I’m Jeongguk. Jeon Jeongguk. Hi.” He blew out a breath and wrung his hands together as he bowed yet again, and Jimin felt his shoulders relax. Jeongguk. “JK” made sense now.

“Nice to meet you, Jeongguk. I don’t have an appointment. I’m sorry,” Jimin apologized. “Are you busy?”

“What? No. Even if I was busy, I’m suddenly not,” Jeongguk said, and then he lunged and grabbed a chair to wheel over so that Jimin could sit. Jimin bowed his head in thanks, and then he sat down as Jeongguk gingerly sat in his office chair and crossed one leg over the other. He was quite a sight for sore eyes. His piercings accentuated all his best features, his fingernails were painted black (the thumbs were purple), and he was wearing a black long-sleeved shirt and black wide-legged pants. He wasn’t wearing shoes, though, which Jimin found rather endearing.

“I really hope I didn’t interrupt,” Jimin said with sincerity, glancing over his shoulder as someone walked by outside. Jeongguk shook his head.

“It’s fine. I’m here alone today, anyways. My assistant has class all day today,” he explained. “Um, can I…? Sorry, can I ask why…?”

“Why I’m here,” Jimin said, and Jeongguk nodded, pursing his lips. Then he let out a little breath, held up a finger, and wheeled his chair over to a mini fridge. He bent at the waist and then glanced over at Jimin.

“Drink?” he asked. “Water, sparkling water, juice?”

“Water, please,” Jimin agreed, so Jeongguk grabbed a bottle of water and handed it over with two hands and a bow of his head. He was exceedingly polite and still looked a little breathless, like he wanted to wave his hand in front of Jimin’s face to see if Jimin would blink.

“So, you said… You said something about a new role,” Jeongguk said, fiddling nervously with his fingers. Jimin noticed.

“I did. I was asked to consider the role, and I decided to take it. It’s for a new romantic comedy kind of show with a twist,” Jimin began, cracking open the water bottle. “It’s called Minor Altar-cations. It’s about a twenty-six-year-old wedding planner—that’s me—whose best girlfriend gets engaged and asks him to plan her wedding.”

“Is he in love with her?” Jeongguk said breathily, eyes sparkling in wonderment. Only five minutes in each other’s presence and Jimin could already see and feel how naturally charming Jeongguk was, whether he realized it or not. His friend had said that he was usually shy, and Jimin could also tell. He seemed more like an ambivert, the kind of guy who came out of his shell when he was doing what he loved best.

Or maybe Jimin had been in too many shows and psychoanalyzed too many characters.

“He is,” Jimin confirmed, and Jeongguk’s eyes smiled before it reached his lips. 

“And you’re a method actor,” Jeongguk continued in a soft voice, like he wasn’t quite sure how much he should divulge or how much of a fan boy he could appropriately be. Jimin snickered and took a sip of water, trying to hide the fact that he actually felt nervous.

“I guess you could say that. It’s not like I’m on the big screen or anything,” he said in a dismissive fashion with a shrug. “You know. I’m not playing Batman or something. But… yeah. I like immersing myself in the role.”

“You could totally play Batman.”

“I’d probably do better as Robin,” Jimin argued playfully, and Jeongguk grinned. It was dazzling. Jimin almost had another main character “oh” moment right then and there. “So about two weeks ago, my manager came up with the idea to post on social media asking for male wedding planners around my age to email him.”

“Ah.” Jeongguk’s eyes searched his desk, and then he gave Jimin a lopsided smile. “Did your manager get an email from Min Yoongi?”

“He did.”

Jeongguk sighed. “That explains it. He called me two nights ago asking if I’d been on social media and to call him if anything interesting happened at work.”

“Seems like secrets might kill him.”

“He could never plan a surprise party,” Jeongguk said with a tiny shake of his head, closing his eyes for a moment as Jimin smiled. Jeongguk cleared his throat and wrung his hands again, cracking his knuckles. He looked more relaxed, but Jimin could tell that the wheels were turning in his head. He was still stunned. “So… So you picked… me.”

“Well, your friend’s email was very convincing,” Jimin replied. “And he linked your website. Said you’d be the perfect fit. He wasn’t wrong. But that’s… well, that’s only on the condition that you’d be open to having me. I know you have a busy—”

“It’s fine.”

“—schedule, and that you may—”

“It’s great.”

“—find having someone shadow you all the time a bit annoying, but—”

“Jimin-ssi.”

Jimin trailed off, trying not to smile like a fool at Jeongguk’s interruptions. Jeongguk took a deep breath like he was mustering up all his strength and courage.

“Um, I’m… I’m pretty busy, yeah,” he conceded with a small shrug, and then he lifted both hands and gently touched his ears, licking his lips. Jimin hated the way that he was already studying Jeongguk like Jeongguk was the character he needed to embody. It’s just his job you have to study. Stop it. Separate the cute human from the career.

Fuck.

“I don’t have to be around all the time,” Jimin said.

“No, no. Well, um, I have a lot of—a lot of tasks. There’s a lot of stuff I have to do, and it’s all different. Sometimes I’m at the office, and sometimes I’m out meeting vendors or going places with clients,” Jeongguk rambled. “It’s—I mean, I’m here today, but in a week, I’m supposed to be at a cake tasting with one client. I have to go find flowers for another client in, like, two weeks or so. I’m venue scouting for another couple all next week. And it’s a lot of office work. A lot . So many spreadsheets.”

“Jeongguk.” Jimin held up his hand gently, trying not to smile. “That’s the kind of stuff I need to see. All of it. Everything. Whatever you’ll allow me to see. It’s all research, all good for me to study so I can embody this role. But only if you’re up for it. Like I was trying to say, I know it might be overwhelming. This isn’t like training a sport or a hobby for a role. I’m pretty much just going to be your shadow.”

“That’s okay,” Jeongguk whispered.

“I did just kind of spring this on you,” Jimin pointed out, feeling a small wave of guilt. “We just met, your friend emailed me in secret, and now I’m asking to shadow you. That’s a lot.”

“It’s kind of cool, though,” Jeongguk murmured, and Jimin smiled. Then he let out a breathy laugh.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to just—I really came in here like a hurricane. Yes, I want to shadow you,” Jimin confirmed. “But it would also be nice to learn a little bit about you. Like, to get to know the man I’m shadowing. If that’s okay. I don’t really know if there’s a polite or proper way to do this. I think I butchered the introduction a little.”

“You didn’t,” Jeongguk said with a hint of laughter. “I’m just… surprised. You’re really famous. You’re Park Jimin. And you just walked into my office like it was no big deal. I’m living out my your-name romantic comedy dream.”

“Your-name,” Jimin said under his breath in English, snickering. “Funny. Your friend said that his husband thinks you embody the word ‘sweetheart.’”

Jeongguk’s ears turned pink as he immediately averted his eyes, and Jimin heard him mutter something that sounded suspiciously like “facepalm” without actually doing the motion. Jimin twisted the cap onto his water bottle, and then he leaned forward.

“I really am sorry that this is so sudden.”

“It is. But, um… yeah. It’s really cool. I’ve met a few celebrities before,” Jeongguk said, touching his ears again like he was checking to see how much he was still blushing, “but no one like you. Wait, what I mean is—fuck. Um, what—sorry. What I mean is, I really… admire you. I’m a big fan. I’ve watched all your shows. And in your interviews, you’re really… yeah. You’re really cool.”

“Then I have my work cut out for me,” Jimin said, suddenly feeling a small pang of worry bubbling in his stomach. Spending time with fans was a slippery slope. It felt like being under a microscope, because fans often had an image of Jimin in their heads that delighted them on a daily basis. If Jimin suddenly didn’t fit that image or didn’t meet those standards, the illusion shattered, and he became just another disappointing human. Sometimes, things soured quickly. 

“No, no, that’s—” Jeongguk took a deep breath. “I don’t think you’re… Well, it would be kind of cliché and predictable if you turned out to be a diva. Or not a nice person.”

He picked up on that quickly.

“Predictable?” Jimin said with a grin as he cocked his head, and Jeongguk pinched the bridge of his nose like he was embarrassed. Jimin immediately took note of the tattoos on his hand, the rings on his fingers. “Maybe I just don’t want to shatter the illusion for you. You’ve only ever seen me on a screen.”

“Yeah, but maybe you’re cooler in person,” Jeongguk argued. “Um, what I’m trying to say is that you can shadow me. If you come back tomorrow, I can try to come up with some kind of schedule for things. Or maybe if you have an email address or—or a phone I can—that’s really personal, sorry.”

“I have a burner phone that I use when I’m in the States,” Jimin said, and Jeongguk stifled a laugh.

“A burner phone? Okay, Jihu,” Jeongguk said flippantly, and Jimin burst out laughing at the reference to his character in Sleight of Hand. Jimin’s laughter seemed to soothe Jeongguk’s anxiety a little, because his shoulders slumped in visible relief. “Well, you can just come back tomorrow. I have a few things to do here. Maybe you’ll want to see that. I don’t really know.”

“I’ll be here in the morning, then,” Jimin replied. “It’s really casual. I promise. I’m not an intern or anything. If it’s a slow day or you just want to be alone, that’s fine. I’m here for a month or two. However long it takes.”

“Okay. Yeah.” Jeongguk blew out a breath, rubbing his hands on the tops of his thighs. “Wow. Okay. You’re… You’re really here to do this.”

“If that’s okay,” Jimin said gently. Jeongguk looked up and locked eyes with him, and Jimin felt himself smiling. 

Oh boy. 

He had fallen into similar traps before. Jimin had the tendency to fall for people within five minutes of being charmed before scolding himself and talking himself out of it when he found his common sense. Surely he would do that tonight at the apartment. That’s just the loneliness talking. That was always what he used to shut his mind up. But there was something about Jeongguk that he couldn’t quite pinpoint. It was already frustrating him.

“It’s okay. Thanks for picking me,” Jeongguk said, wiggling his chair back and forth as he stared Jimin down. “Hopefully I won’t let you down.”

“I’m sure you won’t.” Jimin stood up, and Jeongguk rocketed to his feet as well. “I really appreciate that you’re agreeing to help me out. It won’t be for too long. I’ll be out of your hair soon enough. I like the mint color, by the way.”

“Ah. Thanks. It was purple a few months ago,” Jeongguk said with a sheepish grin, though he looked rather proud as he combed a few fingers through his hair. “Can you be here tomorrow around ten? Or earlier. Later. Doesn’t matter. Just before lunchtime.”

“Done. I’ll see you then.”

Jeongguk bowed with a breathless smile. “It was nice to meet you. I really am a huge fan. This is the coolest thing that’s happened to me in a while.”

“Seeing as you have a cool job,” Jimin started, but then he shrugged coyly and bowed his head to Jeongguk. “See you tomorrow.”

Jeongguk whispered his goodbye, still standing in the middle of his office space as Jimin pivoted on his heels to walk out. He pulled his sunglasses back on as he used his elbow to push open the door.

What he didn’t want Jeongguk to see was that his hands were shaking.

FADE OUT

Chapter Text

INT. JIMIN’S LOS ANGELES APARTMENT – MORNING

JIMIN stands in the bathroom with a small frown on his face, checking his appearance. He’s noticeably nervous. In the other room, NAMJOON and SEOKJIN are observing him.

Jimin took a deep breath and surveyed himself in the mirror. He angled his head right, then left, and then centered it again before lifting a few fingers to brush some of his hair back into place.

“You look fine.”

“Stop spying on me,” Jimin complained, and from the kitchen, Namjoon snickered as Seokjin groaned, tossing down his Nintendo Switch and glancing through the open bathroom door.

“You act like you’re going on a date,” Seokjin said.

“He does this every time, don’t sound so surprised,” Namjoon pointed out.

“Oh, I’m sorry, should I not care about how I present myself to a stranger that I’m going to be shadowing for weeks?” Jimin queried, fighting back a grin. He had tried on several different outfits before settling on casual black pants and a cream Chanel sweater that he had hastily tucked into just the front of his pants. Nothing too grandiose. He didn’t want to appear like he was trying to be some kind of uptight celebrity. He was just meeting Jeongguk to establish a semblance of a schedule, maybe see a few small aspects of the job. That was it.

“You think he’s cute,” Namjoon said as he took another bite of his yogurt and granola, still on his phone. 

“And?” Jimin grabbed his toothbrush. “I want to make a good second impression.”

Jimin was an expert at playing it off. He was used to the teasing, and he gave it as good as he got it. What he didn’t want to admit was that he often went through his entire wardrobe before meeting someone out of quiet fear. 

Fashion to Jimin was like a mask. He could put on an outfit and assume a persona and be the person that the public anticipated, fulfilling all their wishes. He could put on a show of confidence and calm collectedness. He didn’t have to be himself unless he was alone and behind closed doors, the only safe place. Namjoon and Seokjin caught glimpses of Jimin’s real self every so often, and Taehyung probably saw it the most, but Jimin wasn’t always open to sharing. 

It wasn’t that Jimin lacked confidence or didn’t know how to act in the public eye. He had jumped into acting as a child and had never looked back. He had countless friends and was rarely ever at home long enough to be bored. But there was something about meeting someone new who wasn’t privy to the acting world that threw Jimin for a loop. Maybe it was because Jimin was used to fragile trust, the idea that people typically wanted something from him, a conditional type of relationship or friendship.

“Ready to go!” Jimin called out, checking the time on his phone—half past nine. Jeongguk’s office was about twenty minutes away from Jimin’s apartment.

“Not it,” Namjoon said, pressing his finger to his nose as he continued to scroll on his phone. Seokjin clicked his tongue and scoffed, but then he stood up and set his Nintendo Switch down, tucking his phone away.

“You’re lucky I already said goodnight to Minsu,” he said, nudging Namjoon playfully. “Do you want to do any shopping today?”

“Oh. That would be nice. I promised Taehyung a few gifts,” Namjoon said, and Jimin raised his eyebrows.

“Uh, no one is going shopping without me,” he said as he set one hand on his hip. “Or if you do, you’re going to go again and enjoy it just as much as the first time. Fake it ’til you make it.” 

“We won’t do Rodeo Drive without you,” Seokjin said as he shimmied into his coat. “Besides, shopping with him is no fun.”

“You’re no walk in the park to shop with, either,” Namjoon chirped, still scooping up some yogurt. “Jimin’s way more fun.”

“Well, I’m his favorite. Come on, lover boy,” Seokjin insisted to Jimin as Namjoon snorted with laughter, waving the two of them on. 

“Hey, don’t forget the paperwork,” Namjoon said in a warning tone. Jimin halted, sighed, and then backtracked to the kitchen table, extending a hand and accepting the folder that had the paperwork in it that Jeongguk needed to sign if he was agreeing to Jimin being around. Jimin frowned at it for a moment, but then he shrugged it off; everyone had to sign and agree to things like this. It was normal.

“Doesn’t this mean you have to come with me?” Jimin asked Namjoon, tapping the folder against his open palm with a grin. Namjoon blinked a few times, and then he heaved a sigh and stood up from his chair like it was the most laborious task in the world. Jimin stood with one arm crossed as Namjoon splashed water on his face, changed into casual clothes, and brushed his teeth before following his friends out the door.

Seokjin drove to the office as they chattered nonstop about the things they could do in Los Angeles during any downtime. Seokjin mentioned that he wanted to fly Minsu out for a little and maybe take him to Disneyland. Namjoon mentioned the mountains. Jimin commented that he wouldn’t mind a trip to San Francisco. Seokjin joked that Jimin could go to Las Vegas and put his blackjack skills to the test. Jimin told Seokjin to go fuck himself.

“Call me when you’re done, Jimin,” Seokjin said through the open window as Jimin hopped out of the car with Namjoon by his side. Jimin waved over his shoulder, still laughing, and then he climbed the stairs to the second floor, glancing over the railing and checking that Seokjin was still parked and waiting for Namjoon. Jimin paused just short of the office and closed his eyes for a moment.

Yoo Jihoon. That’s your character. You’ve been doing this for years. Imagine the stress of planning Haewon’s wedding and wishing it was you instead.

“You good?”

“I’m good.” Jimin glanced at Namjoon and cleared his throat; Namjoon hardly batted an eye anymore at Jimin’s habits or rituals. Though potentially silly to the untrained outsider, Jimin only got the best results when he did a deep dive into the character he played, no matter what role it was. It didn’t have to be a drama full of angst for him to go the extra mile. So instead of walking into the office as Park Jimin, he was going to have to start thinking about being Yoo Jihoon. 

Another mask.

“Oh! Good morning. Hi. You’re here.”

The windchimes sounded overhead as Jimin walked into the office, which was empty once again except for Jeongguk. There he was, wearing black pants and a white long-sleeved shirt that was thin enough for Jimin to see tattoos all over Jeongguk’s skin. He was wearing clear-framed glasses, and he was standing in front of a large easel with a board on it.

“Good morning,” Jimin greeted as Jeongguk bowed. “This is Kim Namjoon, my manager.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jeongguk said with another bow, politely offering a hand for Namjoon to shake. Namjoon grasped Jeongguk’s hand and returned the sentiment.

“Hope I’m here on time,” Jimin commented.

“There was no set time,” Jeongguk said with a shrug—a lie, but Jimin appreciated it. “But come on in. That’s yours.”

“Hmm? Oh. Really?” Jimin glanced over to where Jeongguk was pointing and saw an iced coffee sitting on the desk.

“Mhm. You might need it. Namjoon-ssi, I’m so sorry, I didn’t…” Jeongguk began to apologize, but Namjoon waved it off. “Um, I kind of have a busy day. I forgot that today I was doing a seating chart,” Jeongguk continued, hands on his hips as he glanced between Jimin and Namjoon before settling on Jimin. “Maybe you can help me. This is a pretty important part. Normally I have the bride or groom or someone here to work it all out with me, but this bride doesn’t care about any of the details, so I’m winging it.”

“Ah. Do they get upset if it’s not what they wanted?” Jimin wondered.

“When I first started, I used to take personal offense when the bride or groom said they didn’t like what I had done,” Jeongguk admitted. “I used to bend over backwards and try to please everyone. But now it doesn’t matter to me. If she doesn’t want to be included in this part of the process, then I don’t care if she likes the seating arrangement or not. I’m getting paid either way, and I have it on record that she said I could do it myself.”

“Clever,” Jimin commended as Namjoon hummed, taking a sip of the iced coffee. “Thank you again for letting me do this, Jeongguk.”

“No big deal,” Jeongguk said with a tiny smile, slipping his hands into his pockets. “I’m pretending that I’m not nervous.”

“Oh?” Jimin set his coffee down. Namjoon shifted and turned away like he was pretending to not exist, likely because he could feel the anxiety radiating off Jeongguk.

“I’ve heard that you’re pretty hard to please. Or that you’re really serious about your work,” Jeongguk admitted quietly, shuffling his feet before he began to reach for a whiteboard marker. “Not in a bad way. Just… I don’t want to disappoint you. You might leave a bad review.”

“I won’t leave a bad review,” Jimin laughed. Then he held up the folder. “I do have a few things for you to sign, though.”

“Ah. Right. The formalities,” Jeongguk said, twirling the marker between his fingers and then tucking it behind one ear as Jimin opened the folder, trying not to smile fondly. “Sweetheart” indeed seemed to be the ideal word to describe Jeongguk. Jimin hardly knew the man, but everything he did was endearing already.

“That’s why I’m here,” Namjoon chimed in. “Then I can get out of your hair.”

“It’s just a simple non-disclosure agreement,” Jimin added, trying not to make it sound like a business exchange, even though that was what it was. “Just saying that you agree to keep things confidential between the two of us while I’m shadowing you. Here, you can…”

Jeongguk accepted the folder with two hands and a small bow, and then he spun and settled down on the couch, propping the folder on his thighs and pulling out the stapled NDA. 

“Just make sure you read it thoroughly. Read the fine print. Read it five times,” Jimin advised. 

“And as long as you’re not leaving this office today or doing anything extraordinary, you can take the night to mull it over if you need to,” Namjoon stated. “Make sure it’s a good fit for you. So you can sign it today or wait and give it back tomorrow. Or reject it.”

“Yeah?” Jeongguk glanced up, looking surprised as his eyes fell on Jimin. “I thought I had to sign it right this very second for you to even be here.”

“Technically,” Jimin said with a small smile. “But if today is just setting up a schedule and discussing how this will work…”

“Give me five minutes.”

Jimin hummed and reached for his iced coffee, watching as Jeongguk held the paper up and used the whiteboard marker to track each line as he read. He flipped the page. Jimin sipped his coffee again. Namjoon scrolled through his phone. Jeongguk flipped to another page. Jimin shifted his footing in sync with Namjoon. Most people just shrugged and signed the NDA without ever reading the terms and conditions, even when Namjoon or Jimin insisted that they do. It was for their own protection. Jeongguk was potentially one of the first people in this situation to actually read.

“Okay.” Jeongguk glanced up. “Thank you both for telling me to read it and for not pressuring me. Can you hand me a pen?”

“Sure.” Jimin tried not to show how giddy he was as he grabbed a pen from Jeongguk’s desk and handed it over, and then he watched as Jeongguk scrawled his loopy signature on the line and wrote down the date. He went back through and initialed in two places, and then he gave the folder to Namjoon with a smile.

“I’m out of here,” Namjoon declared immediately. “Jeongguk, it was nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jeongguk echoed with a bow that Namjoon mimicked, and then Namjoon disappeared, patting Jimin’s shoulder in departure.

“So.” Jimin gestured as the tinkling of the windchimes over the door faded. “You’re doing the seating chart for the reception.”

“An attempt will be made,” Jeongguk replied. He seemed more relaxed now that the NDA was out of the way and Namjoon was gone.

“I’m assuming there’s way more to your job than just seating charts,” Jimin guessed.

“Mhm. A lot. I’m basically running the show,” Jeongguk said. “I book venues and vendors and scout places out, and I do a lot of networking. I attend appointments with clients or on their behalf. I’m the one in charge of the budget and managing spreadsheets and telling people where to spend their money. All the contracts go through me. I help with all the stationary like invites, thank you cards, seating charts, whatever. RSVPs and all that. Hotels. Transportation. Rehearsals. Wedding day timeline. All of it. I don’t rest until the married couple are on their way to their honeymoon.”

“Jesus. That sounds exhausting. Event planning is no joke,” Jimin said, stunned. “And you juggle multiple clients at once?”

“Yup. Not everyone gets married at the same time,” Jeongguk joked. “And a lot of venues have to be booked far in advance. And everyone wants different things. Different themes, different days and times, different flowers. But this—” He gestured to the seating chart— “is the part that gives me a headache.”

“And the bride or groom aren’t going to help you,” Jimin said, sipping his coffee as Jeongguk produced the whiteboard marker again, twirling it between his fingers with a sigh.

“No. This bride is a trust fund baby and Daddy’s paying for the entire wedding, which means all she wants to do is show up. And the groom is one of those guys who goes to country clubs to play golf. So we’re on our own,” Jeongguk said. “Behold—seating chart arrangements. Here, you hold that.”

“Hm? Oh. Sure.” Jimin accepted a printed out and stapled packet that had a list of names on it, enough names to make him dizzy.

“The venue for the reception is massive. High ceilings, big windows, ballroom-style kind of deal,” Jeongguk explained, pacing in a small radius in front of his board. He wasn’t even making eye contact with Jimin, which Jimin found amusing. “The bride and groom have requested their own table instead of a wedding party table, and they want to be facing all the guests. We have fifteen round tables with a possible ten chairs at each. This table is for the wedding party.”

Jeongguk tapped the capped marker against a table labeled “1.” It was the table closest to the bride and groom.

“This table is for the bride and groom’s immediate families. May the odds be ever in their favor.” He tapped the table labeled “2” as Jimin crossed his arms, trying not to laugh.

“Do the families not get along?”

Jeongguk snatched up his coffee and took a sip, the straw between his teeth as he grinned. His posture was a bit shy, like he wasn’t sure he should be divulging all of this information to Jimin, but Jimin was rapt. He knew the bare minimum about the script for Minor Altar-cations so far, but a potential scene where he sat with Bora’s character and devised a seating chart for the reception sounded like exactly what the audience would eat right up.

“The bride is named Kayla,” he said. “The groom is Patrick. Keep that in mind.”

“Got it.”

“So Kayla’s parents are divorced because the father was cheating on the mother with his legal secretary, but the mother was also cheating on the father with some man at the country club,” Jeongguk said, waving his marker around as Jimin propped one fist against his mouth, stifling his laughter. “And guess who goes to the country club? Three, two, one—Patrick’s parents.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes. And they witnessed the scandalous flirting between the mother and this anonymous suitor, now stepfather,” Jeongguk explained, and Jimin grinned. “So there’s some animosity between all the parents, even more so because the father is now the baby daddy of the legal secretary’s toddler, A-K-A the flower girl. Send thoughts and prayers.”

“You’re joking.”

“So now, I have to somehow seat them at the same table because Kayla and Patrick haven’t given me any wiggle room with this guest list,” Jeongguk agonized, collapsing onto the adjacent couch with his eyes to the ceiling. “What would you do?”

“They all have to be at the same table?”

“Yes. We have Kayla’s mom, stepfather, Kayla’s dad, his legal secretary, Patrick’s mother and father who are happily—question mark?—married, both of Patrick’s grandmothers, and one set of Kayla’s grandparents.”

“And you think there’s a way to seat them without a brawl.”

“Yes. There’s a solution. Name it.”

“Uh…” Jimin set his hands on his hips with a light laugh. “We take away the table and make them stand.”

“Negative. The legal secretary would love that, though. Big advocate for standing desks,” Jeongguk said, pointing at Jimin in approval. Jimin let out another laugh.

“How do you know all of this?”

“I’m a magnet for gossip.” Jeongguk did a little twirl, and then he tapped the marker against the board, facing Jimin. “From left to right—Patrick’s parents. Next to his mother, Kayla’s grandparents. Less squabbling that way. Next to the grandfather, the legal secretary and then Kayla’s dad. Next to Kayla’s dad, Patrick’s grandmothers, just to alleviate any tension. And then Kayla’s mom, and her stepfather will sit next to Patrick’s father because men never do shit about the hot gossip at a wedding. And Bob’s your uncle.”

Jimin snorted with laughter and loudly applauded as Jeongguk, looking rather proud with a pink tint to his ears, turned and began to scrawl down some names on the little squares that marked chairs for each table.

“So basically, it’s a game,” Jimin noted, rolling up the list and tapping it as a paper tube against his palm.

“It’s a game I get paid to play,” Jeongguk replied, sounding more confident now that Jimin had given him some applause. But then he paused, rolling the marker between his palms. “Um, sorry. I don’t want to overwhelm you or anything. I’m—I’m really—I get excited about my work, and sometimes I ramble or crack a lot of jokes. So if it’s too much, just—”

“Jeongguk.” Jimin held up his free hand. “It’s not too much. This is brilliant. It’s day one, hour one, and I’m already learning. I already have several ideas to take into the pre-production meetings and the first table read. You’ve already impressed me.”

“Oh. Well, that’s—” Jeongguk tried to twirl the marker again, but then he promptly dropped it on the floor. He flinched like he was going to pick it up, but then he teetered and cleared his throat, folding his hands politely and then lifting a foot to stop the marker from rolling off. “Embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing?”

“Well… famous actor, irrelevant wedding planner with mint choco hair,” Jeongguk said with a vague gesture, and Jimin smiled.

“You’re not irrelevant. What table is next? Let me give it a try. You give me the gossip, and I’ll try to organize the next table,” Jimin challenged. Jeongguk’s eyes lit up, the blush in his cheeks fading slightly, and he nodded and sat in one hip. Then he bent and snatched the marker up.

“Table two.”

MUSIC CUE: “soaked” by léon (fic title is in this song)

Jimin began to list names, and Jeongguk paced in front of his giant seating chart, deep in thought. Once they grouped enough names together, the discussion began over a lot of iced coffee. Jimin’s first suggestion for where to seat each controversial guest earned him a look from Jeongguk. The very moment Jeongguk just stared and puffed his cheeks, Jimin turned and walked right to the corner of the room until he was facing it, and Jeongguk’s laughter flooded the room.

Jimin almost always got along with the people he shadowed or trained with when it came to his acting roles. He had made lifelong friends out of coaches, trainers, dancers, the works. But true to the clichés that seemed to punctuate Jimin’s life as an actor, spending time with Jeongguk was already a breeze. He had a natural charisma that seemed to radiate from him when he was in work mode, so much so that it made Jimin wonder what he was like outside of the office.

“I can’t believe we’re agreeing to Kayla’s childhood pastor and his wife sitting at the same table as the freeloading uncle,” Jeongguk sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as Jimin continued to giggle, holding the paper up over his nose and mouth to hide it. “If either one of them says anything about an offering plate, everyone will be triggered.”

As if Jimin hadn’t laughed enough in the past thirty minutes, he started up again, covering his entire face with the list as he circled himself. He heard a sigh, so he lowered the paper and watched as Jeongguk collapsed onto his couch, a small smile on his lips as his tongue traced his lip ring. Jimin hadn’t missed the stud in his nose, either, or the eyebrow piercing. Or all the other piercings. A man who gossiped about his clients for the sake of a seating chart and fumbled markers looking like an eleven out of ten. Life had a sense of humor.

“That’s pretty good so far,” Jeongguk said, lifting one foot to beckon to the seating chart. “All the problematic people have been sorted. Now it’s just filler guests. That should be easy.”

“Says you ,” Jimin jokingly griped.

“What do you think?” Jeongguk raised his eyebrows. “Is this what you expected from wedding planning?”

“Well, it’s only day one, but to be honest, I had this vision in my head,” Jimin admitted, shrugging. “This idea that wedding planners just walked around with a Bluetooth headset on, booking venues and then marching around on the wedding day and calling the shots.”

“Surprisingly accurate,” Jeongguk said in a soft tone that threw Jimin for a loop. Jimin took too long of a pause, and Jeongguk seemed to notice, because he added, “I do that kind of stuff, yeah. But, um, there’s…”

“There’s a lot more to it than I expected,” Jimin supplied.

“I’d probably think the same thing about acting if I was shadowing you.” Jeongguk sat forward with his elbows on his knees, eyebrows knitting together in thought. “To me, acting is just memorizing a few lines and then dramatically reading them for a camera.”

“Surprisingly accurate,” Jimin said, and Jeongguk cracked a lopsided grin. “Do you, uh… do you really think I’m hard to please?”

“Oh. Well,” Jeongguk said, inhaling deeply through his nose to likely keep from stammering. “I don’t know. You always say in interviews that you like to strive for perfection and things like that. And—sorry, it’s still so weird to me that Park Jimin is standing in my office.” He shook his head as Jimin folded his arms with a small smile. “I know I look and sound pretty calm, but it’s still…”

“I’m not the celebrity you think I am,” Jimin warned with a gentle laugh, but Jeongguk shook his head again, eyes widening.

“Jimin-ssi, you have millions of people following you on social media. You top the brand reputation rankings almost every month. You’re in some of the most-watched shows of all-time,” Jeongguk listed. “And you’re just standing in my office watching me do work like this. And it’s… it’s… I was just binge-watching Winter in the Water before you walked into my office. I’ve watched you onscreen for years.”

“And here I am worrying that I’m going to end up disappointing you,” Jimin confessed, because what did he have to lose? 

Jeongguk tilted his head to the side like a confused puppy, and then he used a knuckle to nudge his eyebrow piercing a few times. “How could you disappoint me? I’m a fan. You just met me yesterday. My friend emailed you to coerce you into coming here. I signed an NDA for this.”

Jimin chuckled. “Most fans have an image of me in their heads of who I am. So I’m afraid that meeting me and spending time with me will just shatter that illusion for you. Especially since you signed an NDA for this.”

“No. The illusion is still there,” Jeongguk said, slowly rising to his feet. “You’re still really intimidating and really handsome, and I can tell you’re a celebrity because you’re polite and very charming.”

“Oh. Well, thank you,” Jimin said as Jeongguk blushed again, turning back to his seating chart to hide it. He thought to say more, but Jeongguk seemed embarrassed by the compliments he had just doled out. Jimin had experienced fans meeting him in person and saying what they thought was too much before shyly backtracking and running away. Jeongguk couldn’t run away because Jimin had virtually cornered him.

“The bottom line is that you won’t disappoint me,” Jeongguk said, his back still turned to Jimin. Jimin sighed.

“Don’t say things like that,” he warned. “Because then if I do, it’ll hurt you and me.”

Jeongguk abruptly pivoted. “There was a tiny little part in the NDA about confidentiality regarding personal information shared.”

“Mhm.”

“Does this all count as personal information?” Jeongguk wondered. “Talking about… I don’t know. Feelings and everything? Personal things?”

“That would be more like if I told you I had a secret love child and you went and told the internet about it,” Jimin said with appropriate theatrics, and Jeongguk finally grinned. “But I’d like to learn about the guy behind the wedding planning. I mean, obviously I’m here for work purposes. But I wouldn’t mind learning more about you than just your name and what you do for a living.”

“Ah. Is it weird that I probably know more about you than you know about me?” Jeongguk asked, scratching the side of his neck awkwardly.

“No. I am a celebrity,” Jimin teased, combing through his hair with all ten fingers and a sigh. He glanced at the seating chart. “It’s still amazing to me that you know so much about your clients and their lives. Their families. Their friends. The gossip. To have to remember all that… I mean, the fact that the client doesn’t even care? She’s just trusting that you’ll do it correctly?”

“It’s important,” Jeongguk said seriously. “Clients come to me for a specific reason. Sometimes it’s a referral. Sometimes it’s word-of-mouth. Sometimes it’s a quick Google search. Whatever it is, my job is to know the client intimately. Bride, groom, brides and grooms plural, partners, whatever it is. If I don’t build trust, then I’m just another stupid wedding planner.”

“Is it exhausting?” Jimin wondered, leaning against the front edge of Jeongguk’s desk, feet pressed into the floor firmly.

“It can be,” Jeongguk admitted with a shrug. “Some days I sit in here and twiddle my thumbs. Some days I’m here for sixteen hours. But if I don’t dedicate the time to it and show up to things, then what client is going to trust me? So I go out to lunch with them free of charge. I follow them on Instagram. I ask questions about their mother’s aunt’s baby. Then they feel like they can trust me to plan what they think is the most important day of their lives.”

“I’ve known you for twenty-four hours and I’m single, but you can plan my wedding,” Jimin declared, and Jeongguk stifled a laugh.

“Well, one day if or when you do get married, I’ll give you a discount,” he teased. 

“Do you think my character should have the same enthusiasm?” Jimin questioned. “I mean, he’s dedicated to his job. And he plans everyone else’s big days but not his own. The old cliché. And he finds out secrets about the bride’s family while he’s planning the wedding.”

“Oh, then he’d definitely have the enthusiasm for the job,” Jeongguk agreed.

“Do you ever feel like that?” Jimin wondered, but he immediately wanted to take it back when he saw Jeongguk’s posture change slightly. “Sorry. I’m not trying to pry. You don’t have to answer that.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Jeongguk said with a short laugh, setting the whiteboard marker down and pulling up his rolling desk chair. He tucked one knee beneath himself and plopped down. “I’m, uh…” He laughed again and spun the chair in a circle once. “I’m a hopeless romantic. I like the cheesy rom-com stuff. I love love, if that makes sense. So wedding planning is the perfect job for me. But no. I wouldn’t plan my own wedding, anyways. If I ever get married, that is.”

“No? You’d hire someone else? Is this like the idea that there’s a never-ending cycle of mailmen delivering mail to other mailmen?” Jimin asked, attempting to lighten the mood a little. It worked; Jeongguk’s relaxed smile returned.

“Nah, I just… I don’t know. I’d want my partner to have some input, maybe put some thought into it and alleviate the stress,” Jeongguk said with a hint of shyness in his voice. Jimin almost forgot that they were having a conversation and that he had to respond. 

Jeongguk spoke about everything with such passion but with a hint of unexpected gentleness. He was the epitome of a “swipe right,” a big green check mark, deserving of the “let me buy your next drink” line, the kind of man who needed to be asked how he liked his eggs in the morning. If Jimin had met Jeongguk anywhere but in a professional setting, he would have given Jeongguk his best game without question. There was something about him that Jimin could quite pinpoint yet.

Jeongguk sensed the pause, because he glanced at his watch and cleared his throat awkwardly. “Um, sorry, we should probably keep going. Or—yeah.”

“Well, it’s almost lunchtime,” Jimin pointed out, also checking the time as he snapped out of his cliché main character daydreaming. He was tempted to check above his head for a thought bubble full of heart-eyes emojis. “So if you’re hungry, I can buy us lunch.”

“You—oh. Really? You’d—you want to buy me lunch?” Jeongguk asked, eyebrows raised. Jimin shrugged.

“Well, you signed an NDA and put me to the test on day one, so I might as well buy you lunch,” he teased. “D-I-Y catering on-set.”

“Well, in that case, I’m inclined to accept,” Jeongguk agreed with a small bow. “It’s just the most famous actor in South Korea buying me lunch. No big deal.”

“Oh, please,” Jimin laughed, already pulling out his phone to check what kind of food options were in the area. “I’m just Jimin, and I’m starving because my new boss gossiped me to death.”

“Gossiped you to death? Wow.”

Jimin fought another laugh at Jeongguk’s deadpan delivery. “Good gossip. Don’t worry. It’s all relevant to my role. Now! Lunch. I’m buying. As long as you promise me there will be no further freaking out.”

Jeongguk gave Jimin a soft smile. “No further freaking out.”

INT. YOONGI AND HOSEOK’S HOUSE – NIGHT

JEONGGUK is pacing anxiously. It’s clear he has a lot on his mind. YOONGI, 31, is at the kitchen table while his husband, HOSEOK, 30, is still eating what remains of dinner.

“I’m absolutely freaking the fuck out and I think I might fucking die.”

“That’s lap number seventy-eight. Seventy-nine. Eighty.”

“You’re making that up,” Jeongguk complained, and then he threw himself on the couch and stared at the ceiling, gripping one wrist in the other hand and resting the top of his hand on his forehead. 

“Rough estimate,” Yoongi said from the kitchen table, still nursing his drink, his dinner plate empty. Jeongguk’s empty plate was to his left, and across the table, Jung Hoseok was grinning as he plucked up another piece of kimchi with his chopsticks, one hand buried in his brown hair as he propped his head against his open palm.

“How did this even happen to me?” Jeongguk said in a daze. “I just spent all day with Park Jimin. Do you have any idea how fucking convoluted that is? This man flew from South Korea and walked in my goddamn office and I had to pretend that I was cool, calm, and collected.”

“I’m sure you did a great job.”

“This is your fault,” Jeongguk snapped when Yoongi responded, but he grinned tiredly when Hoseok burst out laughing. “I can’t believe you thought it was a good idea to email his manager.”

“In my defense, it was an all-call to the general public on social media,” Yoongi argued, removing his glasses and rubbing his face vigorously before running all ten fingers through his black hair, letting it fall back into place naturally. “And I think it’s paying off.”

“I can’t even binge watch my show anymore,” Jeongguk said, raising his voice as Yoongi and Hoseok continued to stifle their laughter. “I was watching his show! I was watching Winter in the Water, and now I can’t watch it anymore because he’s in my office. The real person!”

“I feel like you’re overthinking this,” Hoseok commented, but Jeongguk just plowed on.

“I know more about him than he’ll ever know about me,” he rambled. “For fuck’s sake, I know his shoe size and his tolerance for spicy foods and his ideal date, and he barely knows the first thing about me. I’ve been watching his shows for ten years. A decade! And now I’m just supposed to be okay with this?”

“That was the idea,” Yoongi replied. “Come on, Jeongguk. This is a good thing. You’re working with one of your idols. You love all his shows. And he gets a good teacher. It’s a win-win.”

“I signed an NDA,” Jeongguk pointed out hollowly, eyes still fixed on the ceiling. “I feel like I signed my life away, and I just—I don’t even know if I can do this. I’ve worked with famous people before, all the rich assholes and their kids, but this is…”

“Different vibe,” Hoseok offered, and Jeongguk lifted a foot in Hoseok’s direction to indicate that he was correct.

“I mean, he’s as nice as I expected him to be,” Jeongguk continued, knowing that he had an attentive audience. Yoongi and Hoseok separately were like annoying big brothers to him, but together, they fussed over Jeongguk like he was the baby of the family and always listened to him. Perhaps it was because they both knew that they had what Jeongguk secretly wanted. “But he was saying things.”

“As people do,” Yoongi said as he sipped on his drink.

“He was worrying about me being a fan,” Jeongguk continued. “I mean, fuck, he was saying that he’s afraid spending time with him will shatter the illusion.”

“I mean, yeah, I get that,” Yoongi agreed. “Famous people are famous people, and then you find out that they’re human beings with flaws. But I don’t think he’s going to turn out to be an asshole.”

“And if he does—major plot twist,” Hoseok added with a nod, sitting back and reaching for his beer. Jeongguk pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, his mind racing. Then he threw both arms up to the ceiling like a zombie, hearing Hoseok snicker.

“Are we even considering what I’m doing right now? I’m the fan-boy wedding planner living his life like a normal human being, and here comes the famous actor saying he needs to shadow me for his new role. This is like a shitty One Direction your-name fanfiction on Wattpad,” Jeongguk complained.

“What the hell fanfiction have you been reading?” Yoongi said at the same time as Hoseok said, “Sorry, you read fanfiction?”

“We’re all guilty of indulging in a shitty One Direction your-name fanfiction on Wattpad, hyung. Don’t lie to me,” Jeongguk said with a straight face.

“Hang on, because I think my husband just admitted that he reads fanfiction,” Hoseok said, holding up a finger and then shifting to face Yoongi. “Any comments?”

“We can talk about his favorite fanfiction tropes later,” Jeongguk said crankily, and Yoongi scoffed. “I need advice. I need help. I have absolutely no plan moving forward. He left today and I said that I would text him with the details of our next meeting. Text him. I have his phone number. I can text Park Jimin.”

“So, all fan-boying aside that you’re texting him and it’s not a one-sided bubble message parasocial relationship,” Yoongi said, and Jeongguk finally rolled his head over to see Hoseok grinning like a Cheshire cat, amused that Yoongi knew all the references pop culture had to offer. “What exactly is he looking for?”

“He just needs to shadow me,” Jeongguk said, swinging his legs over and sitting up on the couch. He nudged his eyebrow piercing, his tongue pushing against the lip piercing, his thumb grazing the stud in his nose—all things he did when he was feeling nervous. “See things that will help him with his role. All the wedding planner things that I do. But I—I don’t know exactly how long he’s here, and I don’t know what would be useful for him to see.”

“Jeongguk.”

“Hmm.” Jeongguk finally looked up at his friends. Their cozy little two-bedroom home wasn’t far from where Jeongguk lived, and it was decorated in a typical minimalist fashion (Yoongi) with a splash of eccentric color (Hoseok). There was always a spot at the dinner table for Jeongguk, no matter what. And now more than ever, Jeongguk couldn’t help but appreciate the open door that his friends had for him, even in the midst of their busy lives.

“You’re overthinking,” Yoongi warned, echoing Hoseok’s previous sentiment. “Take it at face value, okay? You’re a fan of his work. He knows that and you know that. So now, all you have to do is be the wedding planner. Stop seeing him as this untouchable actor without feelings. He’s a human being.”

“Yeah, he’s just a normal dude studying you and your career for a role. He could be a friend,” Hoseok added, shrugging. “Or, at least, that can be the vibe. Unless he’s demanding that you treat him like a celebrity, then I say you just show him things.”

“What’s your schedule like? What are you thinking?” Yoongi asked in a gentle voice.

“I have a menu tasting for a client on Saturday,” Jeongguk said, fingers laced together as he slid one thumbnail under the other distractedly. “That’s probably the next major thing I can think of. Otherwise, it’s just boring office work for the next two days. He doesn’t have to suffer through that.”

“So invite him on Saturday,” Yoongi suggested. “He’ll love it. Free food and entertainment.”

Jeongguk rested his elbows on his knees and pressed a few fingers to his temples, rubbing slowly. “Yeah. I can do that. I just… okay. I’m calm now.” He took a deep breath. “I can’t fuck this up. He has a reputation to uphold. If I’m a shitty teacher, then he put his faith in me for nothing.”

“Jeongguk, I emailed him the bare minimum about you and gave him your website,” Yoongi said, kicking one ankle over the other and slouching in his chair. “And he still picked you out of probably dozens of applicants. What does that tell you? No self-deprecating comments. I want to hear something positive.”

“That he— fine,” Jeongguk sighed, trying not to smile. “That I… stood out for a reason.”

“Right. So go live your Wattpad dreams, and for fuck’s sake, just finish binge watching the goddamn show, you glutton for punishment,” Yoongi said in exasperation, and Hoseok snickered.

“Yeah, we were thinking of starting Sleight of Hand for the third time tonight in honor of your new gig as a mentor,” Hoseok said with a grin. “Want to join us?”

“No.” Jeongguk frowned. “I’m going to go home and finish Winter in the Water and hate myself for it.”

“The drama,” Yoongi grumbled. “Are you done freaking out?”

“For now.” Jeongguk stood up and twisted his spine to crack his back, lifting his arms overhead. He then rested his hands on his hips and bowed his head. “You don’t understand.”

“What is there to not understand?” Hoseok wondered.

“Look, I know it’s not as big of a deal here in the States,” Jeongguk began, biting some dead skin from his bottom lip. “But I’ve always loved him as an actor, and when he came out a few years ago, it was fucking life-changing for me. And now he’s waiting for me to text him with a plan. Like? What is my life?”

“You ever think that maybe good things happen to good people?” Yoongi said, standing and gathering the plates. “That’s you, Jeongguk. You’re a decent fucking human being. Let Park Jimin see that, and maybe you can make a friend out of it.”

“And get us a deck of cards signed by him,” Hoseok threw in just to stir Jeongguk up. Jeongguk lunged like he was going to throw a (very soft and non-threatening) punch, and Hoseok hopped out of his chair. “Don’t you fucking dare, I’m flying out tomorrow.”

Jeongguk slid over and gently punched Hoseok’s shoulder, and then he gathered up the rest of the dishes and joined Yoongi in the kitchen as Hoseok called out that he was going to go pack for his flight.

“Hyung.”

“Yeah.”

“Remember that one wedding we did for the governor’s niece?” Jeongguk said, leaning his back against the countertop as Yoongi washed up the dishes.

“Mhm. A nightmare. But some of my favorite pictures.”

“And the mother of the bride said that if I messed up her baby’s special day, I would be paying for it for the rest of my life?” Jeongguk recalled, and Yoongi paused, his hands in the soapy water. He sighed, and then he turned off the tap and grabbed the dish towel, turning to Jeongguk.

“So you’re comparing,” he said. “You’re talking like famous actor Park Jimin is going to threaten you and blackmail you if you somehow mess up. He’s not that vindictive.”

“You don’t know that.”

“And you do?”

Jeongguk blew out a breath, twisting his lips in thought. “No, but—fuck, why am I having a hard time with this? It’s day fucking two and I’m spiraling. It shouldn’t be like this.”

“Look—” Yoongi wrung the towel between his hands as he shifted his footing. “All of this was sprung on you. That’s partially my fault. But you know what I said in the email?”

“I mean, you told me a little bit already. Do I want to know more?”

“I said that you’ve had nothing but rave reviews, you’re a fan of his work, you’re awesome at your job but a little bit shy, and Hoseok uses the word ‘sweetheart’ to describe you,” Yoongi listed, and Jeongguk felt his ears burn at the string of compliments. “I sold you to Park Jimin or his manager or whoever, but I wasn’t lying. And I said in the email that this would be a good thing for you.”

“How is it a good thing?” Jeongguk asked tiredly.

“Because if anyone deserves a little bit of fun, Jeongguk, it’s you,” Yoongi declared. “You work yourself to the bone for the sake of other people’s happiness. You plan special days for everyone else, but not for yourself. You’re a walking, talking cliché. This is like one of those shows where I’m the good friend who nominated you for an extravagant home makeover or something, and in my interview, I say that you put everyone else before yourself and you deserve a man cave or something.”

“Those shows are a poison.”

“And you’ve sat and binge watched them on weekends for years.”

“They’re feel-good shows,” Jeongguk emphasized, and Yoongi gave him a lopsided grin.

“Look, you want my unsolicited advice?” Yoongi asked, and Jeongguk nodded. “Entertain him. Don’t be shy about it. You’re damn good at your job, Gguk-ah. Show him what you can do. He’s a human being. So what if he’s rich and famous? Maybe he’s sick of people treating him like that.”

“Oh, so now you’re empathizing,” Jeongguk teased, but then he sighed. “Yeah, okay. I’ll try. Thanks for listening to me.”

“Anytime.”

“I have a potential new client that I’m doing onboarding with who might need a recommendation for a kickass photographer. You fit their vibe.”

“I have two open slots, so might as well,” Yoongi said, and then he pulled a face when Jeongguk hugged him sideways. “Yeah, yeah. Go see Hoseok. He’s worried about you.”

“Is he?”

Yoongi rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, leaning against the countertop again. “He thinks I overwhelmed you. That I didn’t think it through when I emailed Park Jimin’s manager.”

“Well, yeah, I’m overwhelmed,” Jeongguk admitted with a weak smile. “But you obviously thought about it if you went through the trouble of emailing.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” Yoongi offered, but Jeongguk shook his head.

“You don’t have to be. You know I love being dramatic.”

“Yeah, until Park Jimin is in your office. Then you’re shy,” Yoongi grumbled, shaking his head. “Ambiverts blow my mind. Go.”

Jeongguk laughed as he walked out of the kitchen, calling out Hoseok’s name and asking if he needed a co-pilot for packing.

INT. MAN WITH A PLAN WEDDINGS – DAY

The sun is streaming through the windows of the loft office. YUNA is working with a client while JEONGGUK watches his protegé, his mind heavy.

“Well, if you need a recommendation for a photographer, I do have one.”

“Oh?”

Yuna pulled open a drawer of her desk and retrieved the photobook of Yoongi’s work as Jeongguk watched, and she slid it towards the happy couple who had just signed their contract for Jeongguk’s services. Both men leaned forward and began to flip through the book, quietly ooh-ing and ahh-ing over the details and whispering to each other.

“He works with JK pretty often, so if you do choose him, you’ll receive a special package with a discount on individual prints,” Yuna explained like a professional. Jeongguk smiled as he scrolled through email regarding a block of hotel rooms that he had just snagged, adding the details and the confirmation to the client’s file to stay organized.

“These pictures are amazing,” one of the men said.

“Can we meet him in person?” the other asked.

“Of course,” Yuna agreed, nodding. “We can consult with him and provide your contact details, and he can get in touch with you to arrange a face-to-face meeting so you can ensure that he’s the right photographer for your special day.”

“That would be amazing.”

Jeongguk vaguely listened as Yuna completed the process, and then he jumped out of his seat and shook both men’s hands vigorously, expressing his delight in beginning the planning process. Both men were eager to be involved, which was a rarity, but neither of them had very supportive families; their friends were their support system. Jeongguk could understand that.

“They’re so lovely,” Yuna said as the couple walked out of the office. “I’m really glad we’re taking them on. I have so many ideas for their color scheme, especially since they said they love purple.”

“We’re involving the dog somehow.”

“Oh, the dog is definitely the ring bearer,” Yuna agreed, and she and Jeongguk laughed as Jeongguk pulled off his clear-framed glasses and shoved them up into his hair, wheeling his chair over towards Yuna’s desk with one knee bent. Yuna popped open a container and offered Jeongguk a piece of gum, but he shook his head. Yuna ate one piece and began to chew, and then she gestured to Jeongguk.

“Right, I said I wanted to talk to you,” he remembered, because poor Yuna had walked into the office at eight o’clock sharp with coffee only to be ambushed by Jeongguk.

“Fill me in,” Yuna requested.

“Have you, uh… you’ve watched Sleight of Hand, right?”

“Of course I have.”

“So you know Park Jimin. The famous actor.”

“I live in Los Angeles, not under a rock,” Yuna joked with her charming smile. Jeongguk narrowed his eyes, trying not to smile back. Yuna’s blonde hair was in messy space buns today, one of Jeongguk’s favorite hairstyles on her.

“He’s taking a new role,” Jeongguk continued. “There’s a new show where, uh… he’s playing this character who’s a wedding planner, and his best girlfriend asks him to plan her wedding. And he agrees and then starts uncovering all kinds of family secrets and stuff.”

“Ooh. Sounds intense. And very appropriate for our jobs,” Yuna said with a grin.

“You know how he’s a method actor? How he likes to research his roles?”

“I mean, I know he trained in America to use guns for Sleight of Hand,” Yuna offered. Jeongguk took a deep breath.

“Right. Well, uh, his manager asked the general public to email if they knew any male wedding planners in their late twenties.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“So Yoongi decided,” Jeongguk started as Yuna pushed her chair back, her jaw dropping as the dots began to connect before her eyes, “that it would be a good idea to email Park Jimin’s manager about me.”

“Oh my God, did he pick you?”

“Yeah. He did. And he’s here right now. In Los Angeles. He’s been in this office,” Jeongguk confessed, and Yuna’s eyes widened, sparkling. “He was here yesterday. He helped me with the seating chart for Patrick and Kayla’s wedding. I signed an NDA and everything. He’s just… here. In Los Angeles. For however long he wants to be while he shadows me.”

“That’s the wildest thing I’ve ever heard,” Yuna breathed, amazed. “Do I get to meet him? Oh my God, does he take pictures with fans?”

“You’ll probably meet him,” Jeongguk admitted, suddenly feeling shy. “I don’t know about pictures. You’d have to ask. Maybe he charges for selfies. You never know.”

“Five dollars for a close-up, ten dollars if you want to be in it with him,” Yuna said, playing along.

“Twenty bucks for this angle,” Jeongguk said as he pretended to hold an imaginary phone in his lap, and Yuna giggled.

“So he’s just going to follow you around?” she asked, raising her eyebrows, still chewing her gum on one side of her mouth. Jeongguk nodded, finally finding it in him to grin.

“Yeah. I have a menu tasting on Saturday for a client, and he’s going to come with me. And then I’ll just… invite him to things.”

“Well—” Yuna stood up and pressed her palms into her desk, and then she gathered up a few files to return to their filing cabinet, beaming. “If anyone deserves something cool to happen to them like this, it’s you.”

Jeongguk didn’t respond. How could he when Yuna was just repeating what Yoongi had said? Instead, he just watched while chewing his bottom lip as Yuna hummed and skipped over to their filing cabinet to tuck away the new clients’ details, along with a few other files, popping her gum happily.

His talk with Yoongi and Hoseok had admittedly helped calm his mind down. He was trying not to see his new situation as something ripped straight from a movie, but he was a notorious fan of the same old clichés. It was the last thing he wanted to admit to out loud, but he loved the cheesy, predictable, repetitive storylines of romantic comedies because he longed for that in his own life. 

His first girlfriend had been in high school in Busan, but that had ended after a few months. His first boyfriend had been during university, and that relationship had faded after a little over a year. Jeongguk had been head over heels, but the asshole had broken up with Jeongguk just shy of Valentine’s Day, saying that Jeongguk was “boring.” That he wanted a man who wasn’t “so romantic.” Jeongguk had been utterly devastated and had spent his final years of university questioning his entire existence, only to find out that his ex-boyfriend had been arrested only a month shy of graduation because he had committed a crime with some other guy he’d started fucking.

Jeongguk had then made the mistake of falling for a bridesmaid during his first year as a wedding planner, and the relationship had been fast-paced and frantic. For two months, everything had seemed picturesque and wonderful. Jeongguk had even met her parents and made a sparkling impression. But then, five months into the relationship, she had started asking Jeongguk what his plan was for their wedding. And that was when Jeongguk had quickly realized that his girlfriend was only in love with the idea of being with Jeongguk, not Jeongguk himself.

It was frustrating to Jeongguk, how often he had fallen into such traps. But he wasn’t going to let himself ever be fooled again. His current situation was a textbook trap, but this time, he had to stand his ground and fight against his romantically-inclined, fairytale-seeking brain.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t daydream.

EXT. THE BEVERLY HILLS BRIGHTON – MORNING

JEONGGUK stands outside a lavish restaurant and country club known for attracting the wealthy. The weather is sunny and almost warm as he waits for JIMIN to arrive for a menu tasting.

“Jeongguk!”

Jeongguk turned and tried not to sigh as he smiled and lifted a hand in greeting. He had texted Jimin (while eating his own fist) with explicit instructions on how to get to the venue for the reception, where the menu tasting was taking place. It was right in the heart of Beverly Hills, and Jimin fit in like he had been born on Rodeo Drive.

“I was worried I wouldn’t find the place,” Jimin said with a laugh as Jeongguk swallowed heavily, inhaling through his nose. It’s fine. He’s just the most gorgeous man you’ve ever laid eyes on. Okay, don’t stare for too long. Blink and look away. There’s a car. There’s another car. Now back to Jimin. Oh God, he’s so pretty—

“Well, you found it.”

Jeongguk almost turned and grabbed the pole of the streetlight to knock himself unconscious for Jimin’s sake. Jimin just smiled, sunglasses still on. He was wearing black pants, a pale pink long-sleeved sweater, and black Chelsea boots. But there was something about his presence and how he carried himself that made his plain outfit look wildly unique in comparison to the rest of the population of California.

“Here I was thinking that I was underdressed,” Jimin teased, but the way that his eyes scanned Jeongguk from head to toe made Jeongguk want to drop and roll into the street and maybe roleplay as a speed bump for a few hours. Jeongguk had gone for grey checked pants with a black turtleneck long-sleeved shirt tucked in, because why not play to his strengths? He knew what flattered him, and there was no harm in showing Jimin.

“You look great.” Jeongguk adjusted his own sunglasses, and then he tilted his head backwards. “Welcome to The Beverly Hills Brighton.”

“Looks…” Jimin used one finger to pull his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose to survey the building. “Expensive.”

“You have no idea,” Jeongguk said, and then he flipped open the cover of the iPad he was carrying, opened a file, and showed the screen to Jimin.

“Holy fucking hell,” Jimin cursed, and Jeongguk snorted with laughter when Jimin saw the prices. “Is that per person? You’re joking.”

“I work in California. We don’t joke about things like this,” Jeongguk advised, trying not to let his fingers twitch nervously. “This is my lovely couples’ top choice for their reception and catering. It’s absolutely gorgeous, and we get a free meal out of it.”

“So what exactly are you doing?” Jimin wondered, setting one hand on his hip and pushing his sunglasses back on.

“A menu tasting,” Jeongguk replied. “A majority of the time, the bride and-or groom are present. But surprisingly, the menu is the last concern on some clients’ minds. This client happens to not give a shit, as long as the food is edible. But someone has to attend the tasting, and that someone is me.”

“But it’s not just to eat the food, right?” Jimin asked. “You have to talk to the caterers and get all the info. Pricing and stuff.”

“Have you been studying?” Jeongguk asked with a small smile, pleased when he saw Jimin shrug and shift his footing.

“I may have done a bit of a search on the internet,” he admitted. “I had two days off, you know. I had to keep my mind sharp.”

“I’m sorry,” Jeongguk apologized hastily. “Do you prefer to work every single day? I—I can adjust the schedule, it’s just that—”

“Jeongguk.” Jimin held up a hand, and Jeongguk almost choked at the sound of his name in Jimin’s melodic voice. It was never going to get old. “My schedule is whatever you say it is. I’m not training to run a marathon or play the role of an assassin or anything. This is one of the most casual training sessions I’ve ever arranged. That’s a good thing.”

“Right.” Jeongguk took a deep breath. “No freaking out.”

“No freaking out,” Jimin repeated, nodding.

Entertain him. Don’t be shy about it. You’re damn good at your job, Gguk-ah. Show him what you can do. He’s a human being.

“Okay, well, we don’t want to be late,” Jeongguk said as Yoongi’s words bounced around his brain. “It’s exactly eleven o’clock. Follow me, and make sure you just play along, okay? This is like improvisation. That’s a thing in acting, right?”

“It’s a thing,” Jimin confirmed. “Game face on.”

“What’s your character’s name?” Jeongguk asked as they walked towards the entrance.

“Yoo Jihoon,” Jimin said as if he was introducing himself. Jeongguk nodded, and then he reached for the door.

“Then be Yoo Jihoon,” he suggested, and when Jimin pushed his sunglasses up into his hair, Jeongguk didn’t miss the sparkle in his eyes.

“What does that make you?” he asked, but it was rhetorical; he walked through the doors first, and Jeongguk followed. He made a beeline for the reception, Jimin right by his side, and he removed his sunglasses.

“Hi. I’m here for a menu tasting at eleven o’clock,” Jeongguk stated. The young woman at the computer smiled and nodded, consulting her schedule.

“Mr. Jeon?”

“That’s me,” Jeongguk confirmed.

“Right this way,” she said, rising from her chair and walking down the hall. Jeongguk followed, noticing that Jimin was quietly scanning the environment as they walked—the high ceilings, the crown molding, the extravagant archways and breezeways, the gardens and fountains. It was impressive to an outsider, and it would have impressed Jeongguk if he hadn’t already worked with The Beverly Hills Brighton twice before. But the menus were always different, so he was back for thirds.

“You’ll be with Matilda, our interim head caterer,” the woman said, gesturing to the table that was set in the empty room. “She’s filling in for Allison, who will be with you on the day of the wedding. But Matilda is really looking forward to meeting you.”

“Thank you,” Jeongguk said with a small bow of his head. Neither of them made a move to sit down; Jeongguk always waited, and Jimin was just wringing one hand in the other behind his back, still scanning.

“This place is really nice,” he whispered.

“One of the nicer places, yes,” Jeongguk whispered back. “Do you think the food will be delicious?”

“For the price this couple is paying? It should have those flecks of shaved gold on it,” Jimin hissed, and Jeongguk stifled a laugh. “Seriously, Jeongguk what… what is this? Is this really what people do?”

“You have no idea.”

“There’s no way the couple is paying for this.”

“No, no. This is daddy’s money hard at work,” Jeongguk whispered. “My work is split fifty-fifty. Half of my clients need a wedding planner who wants to champion them. The other half just want to throw money at me in hopes of pony rides during the reception.”

“Pony rides,” Jimin repeated, snickering. 

“What about a petting zoo?”

Jimin dissolved into forcibly muffled laughter as the door to their left swung open and Matilda walked out. Jeongguk pressed his tongue against the inside of his bottom lip as he grinned, watching in his peripheral vision as Jimin tried to compose himself.

“Hi, you must be JK,” Matilda said, extending her hand with a radiant smile, blonde ponytail swinging over one shoulder. Jeongguk shook her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I see you’ve brought company.”

Matilda was just filling in. Allison would be present on the day of the wedding. That meant that Allison wouldn’t know the difference between Jimin and the real groom.

Jackpot.

MUSIC CUE: “shivers” by ed sheeran 

“Yes, I have,” Jeongguk said with a smile. “This is the groom.”

“Oh, lovely,” Matilda said with another smile as Jimin whipped his head to the left to look at Jeongguk so quickly that Jeongguk feared whiplash. But then Jimin cleared his throat.

“Nice to meet you,” he said, offering up his hand to Matilda. Matilda shook it, and then she beckoned, pulling out a chair and gesturing to Jimin. Looking mortified, Jimin sat down in the chair as Jeongguk took the chair opposite of him, trying not to laugh.

“Oh! So sorry, I forgot the wine selection menu,” Matilda apologized, halfway in her chair. “Give me just a moment.”

“No problem,” Jeongguk said graciously as Matilda hurried off to grab the menus. The moment she walked away, Jimin used both feet to kick Jeongguk’s shins underneath the table, and Jeongguk burst out laughing silently, bending and trying to protect his shins.

“What do you mean, I’m the groom?” Jimin hissed in a panic. “You can’t just tell her that!”

“Of course I can. She’s only filling in. Congratulations on your engagement,” Jeongguk said, savoring the horrified look in Jimin’s eyes.

“Jeongguk, tell her that you’re lying,” he hissed, lunging forward with his upper body nearly folded over the tabletop, hands reaching for Jeongguk. “You can’t just—I’m barely fluent in English, you can’t set me up like that, I’m not the groom!”

“You’re doing a great job,” Jeongguk whispered, reaching forward and patting Jimin’s hand encouragingly. Jimin immediately smacked him away and kicked his shins again, and Jeongguk felt his nose scrunch in laughter. “Come on, you’ll get all the special treatment. I said that you were going to have to improvise.”

“This is not what I had in mind, I can’t believe you would do this to me,” Jimin hissed, but this time, Jeongguk could see that he was trying not to laugh. Hellbent on breaking him, Jeongguk bit his tongue between his teeth, grinning, and finally, Jimin cracked. He started laughing while swatting at Jeongguk again, still trying to kick him under the table. 

“Stop that, the groom needs to behave,” Jeongguk chastised.

“When we get out of here, I swear to God, I’m going to—”

“Sorry!”

Jimin straightened up comically fast and folded his hands in his lap, because he was facing the door as Matilda walked out with the wine menus. Jeongguk, his back turned to the door, squeezed his eyes shut as he laughed, and he felt another kick against his shins.

“The wine selection menu for the groom,” Matilda said with a smile, and Jeongguk gave Jimin a lofty look. Jimin’s eyes narrowed in Jeongguk’s direction, but then he switched gears completely and smiled at Matilda, thanking her. “Now! Let’s talk about the food menu for today. We have two options with meat, one vegetarian option, and a gluten-free option that can also be dairy-free. For the hor d’oeuvres…”

Jimin hummed and listened attentively, nodding along as Matilda explained every single inch of the menu in great detail. Jeongguk tried to take notes on his iPad, but he failed miserably because he was too busy watching Jimin’s every move. Matilda was engrossed in relaying the menu to the “groom,” which gave Jimin time to look up at Jeongguk. And every time he stole a glance, his eyes sparkled and he fought a grin, even though he looked like he wanted to tackle Jeongguk to the ground.

Pretty, pretty, pretty. Even when he’s pretending to be mad, he’s pretty. Oh no.

“And this will be the salad,” Matilda introduced as someone brought out two different large plates filled with salads, as well as three clean plates. “The first choice is a summer salad with watermelon and feta and a beautiful vinaigrette—just wait until you taste it. The second option is full of fresh greens and avocado with tomatoes and garlic mint vinaigrette that is absolutely to die for. Of course, these were just your preliminary selections and can be changed.”

“They look delicious,” Jimin praised in an even voice, and Jeongguk almost shivered when he realized that Jimin’s speaking voice was much deeper in English than it was in Korean. There was something devastatingly sexy about it, something that made Jeongguk quietly clear his throat and focus only on helping himself to some salad without catching Jimin’s eye.

Jeongguk took a large bite of one salad and a large bite of the other, watching Jimin’s reaction carefully. He sat back, and then he wiped his mouth with the napkin delicately.

“What do you think?” he asked Jimin, using one foot to nudge Jimin’s ankle under the table. Jimin set his fork down with care, and then he locked eyes with Jeongguk. The look on his face was comical; his eyes were round and he wasn’t blinking, and Jeongguk knew he was telepathically trying to kill Jeongguk and ask which salad to choose. So Jeongguk fixed his gaze on the salad with the avocado.

“They’re both great,” Jimin complimented as Matilda nodded with enthusiasm. “But…” Jimin pointed as Matilda nodded again.

“Ah, of course. Great choice. Both are delicious, but this one is really special. It’s the garlic mint vinaigrette,” she agreed with the same practiced smile. “Eat up!”

Jimin raised his eyebrows in Jeongguk’s direction, but Jeongguk just gathered up some more salad and shoved it into his mouth, grinning.

“Ah, let me go check on the drinks,” Matilda said, sliding her chair back. “The wine should be here. Please excuse me.”

Matilda walked away after pushing her chair back in politely, and the moment she was out of earshot, Jeongguk suddenly recoiled, startled.

“Did you just throw a tomato at me?” he asked, glancing down to see a cherry tomato sitting on top of his napkin in his lap.

“I did, because you think you’re slick,” Jimin hissed. “I’m supposed to be shadowing you, not roleplaying as a groom.”

“You’re an actor, Jimin-ssi,” Jeongguk teased, his heart racing. Am I supposed to be teasing a famous celebrity? Am I going to hell for this?

Worth it.

It was worth it, because Jimin looked both flabbergasted and delighted as he pressed his fingers to his temples and stared down at his salad like he was contemplating life’s very meaning. He blew out a breath, and then he pointed to the salad with watermelon.

“This one is better.”

“Yeah, well, this bride specifically put watermelon on her ‘I will not eat it’ list, so we have to go for this one,” Jeongguk said, pointing to the other option. “And because you’re her fiancé, you should know that.”

“You little shit, this isn’t—”

“Here we are!”

Matilda returned with a few bottles of wine and a waitress carrying some wine glasses, cutting Jimin off. Jeongguk felt another kick to his shins, and he tried to kick back, but both of Jimin’s feet suddenly captured Jeongguk’s ankle underneath the table and gripped without letting go. Jeongguk immediately felt his entire face flush, and he reached for his water, trying to take a sip without looking like the infamous GIF with his shaking hands. He assumed Jimin would let go when the first pinot grigio was introduced, but he didn’t.

I’m doomed. I want to evaporate. 

Matilda poured a generous sip of the wine into each glass. Jimin lifted the glass to his nose and inhaled, glancing over the rim at Jeongguk as he did. His legs were wrapped around Jeongguk’s ankle under the table, and Jeongguk was considering amputation just to free himself of the horror. He, too, took a sip of the wine without even faking elegance, because maybe a small bit of alcohol would stop the shivers.

The menu tasting continued, and for the entire duration, Jimin visually consulted Jeongguk for all the answers, a battle happening underneath the table that Matilda never knew about. Jeongguk’s shins were bound to be bruised, but it was worth every single kick. The more that they ate, the more Jeongguk got to study Jimin and observe him in a “natural setting,” the more he realized that Jimin was, indeed, human.

For a man he had only known a total of three days, Jimin was a complete enigma with a touch of sunshine. He was shrouded in the mystery of celebrity, but here he was, kicking Jeongguk under the table and shooting daggers at him at every opportune moment. Every time Matilda walked away, they both got the giggles, like they were two schoolboys pulling off a fantastic prank. And every time Jimin nudged Jeongguk with one foot or lifted his foot to tap Jeongguk’s knee, Jeongguk had a full-body reaction.

“Well, I think you’ve made excellent choices,” Matilda commended as the table was cleared. “Mr. Jeon, have you been given a copy of all our pricing?”

“I have, thank you,” Jeongguk said, patting his iPad. “Though I believe the groom and his bride-to-be are both happy with the menu and the service. This is their first choice, so I know that today’s menu being such a hit is a huge relief.”

“We’re very excited,” Jimin said with a charming smile.

“We’re so looking forward to having you both in October,” Matilda gushed. “Shall we take care of the deposit, then, if you’re happy with everything?”

“I’ll take care of it,” Jeongguk said, holding up a hand to Jimin. “You just hang tight. Maybe text Olivia and let her know that today was a success.”

“Olivia. Right. Of course,” Jimin said, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll just…”

Jeongguk stood up and stifled a laugh, and then he followed Matilda off to the side to take care of the necessary deposit and paperwork on the couples’ behalf. He didn’t bat an eye when he swiped the credit card for thousands upon thousands of dollars, since the couple had already filtered the money to Jeongguk for the necessary costs. When he said goodbye to Matilda and returned to the table, Jimin was already standing.

“Let’s go, my happy little groom,” Jeongguk joked as he swept up his iPad. The breath Jimin drew in was pure comedy. Jeongguk snickered and gestured, and Jimin followed him out of the venue. The moment they stepped out into the sunlight, Jimin shoved Jeongguk sideways, and Jeongguk burst out laughing.

“Hey, hey! I have an iPad! You break it, you buy it,” he warned, regaining his balance. Jimin circled himself, and Jeongguk thought he was angry, but when he turned back again, Jeongguk saw that he was laughing, his sunglasses on now.

“You’re a piece of work, Jeon Jeongguk,” he declared, and Jeongguk almost collapsed to the ground. “I almost peed myself trying to fake being an English-speaking groom for two hours. You had me fighting for my life on day three.”

“Well, you did a bang-up job, because Matilda called you ‘sweet,’” Jeongguk complimented with a smile, and Jimin set his hands on his hips, tilting his head to the sky momentarily before focusing on Jeongguk again.

“That was ridiculous. That was the most ridiculous thing I’ve done in years,” he decided, and Jeongguk’s grin widened. “I haven’t even known you for seventy-two hours and you’re already putting me on the spot. I’m rusty.”

“You did great.”

“Please tell me that’s not what every appointment is like,” Jimin said with a laugh.

“No, of course that’s not what every appointment is like. But it was too good of an opportunity to pass up,” Jeongguk said with a grin. “Matilda won’t be there on the wedding day, so poor Allison will be none the wiser. Plus, it was kind of fun to watch you squirm.”

“Wow, you—”

Jeongguk laughed and hugged his iPad to his chest as he leapt into the parking lot and reached his car, but Jimin was hot on his heels. Jeongguk spun and put his back to his car door, and then he almost let out a squeak, because Jimin was right in front of him, toe-to-toe, eyes locked on Jeongguk. Again, he used one finger to slowly pull his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, but this time, it was up close and personal. This time, Jeongguk could see the flecks of honey in his dark brown eyes and the nonexistent flaws on his skin. He was breathtaking.

“Next time, I’ll reconsider the terms of my NDAs,” he said quietly, fighting a grin. “Maybe add a clause about not purposely taking the shit out of me.”

“Where’s the fun in that? Besides, we still have so many more appointments together,” Jeongguk said, nearly breathless. Jimin narrowed his eyes, but then he leaned back and gently nudged Jeongguk’s shoulder with a few fingers.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely. “That was a lot of fun. And I got to see how a real wedding planner handles a menu tasting.”

“While giving that same wedding planner bruises all over his shins,” Jeongguk complained, and Jimin grinned, pushing his sunglasses back up.

“You’re cute with or without bruised shins,” he said, walking around to the passenger side of the car. “Would it be too much trouble to ask you to drive me back to your office?”

Yes. I’m in trouble. I’m in so much fucking trouble. Don’t call me cute, I’m begging you—

“Call me cute again and maybe I’ll consider it,” Jeongguk said, leaning both elbows on the hood of his car and raising his eyebrows at Jimin, finger hovering over the button to unlock the car. Jimin did the same, elbows on the hood of the car.

“Well, you’re a lot more than cute, but we can start simple,” Jimin replied, and Jeongguk immediately considered throwing his car into reverse and standing behind it for dramatic effect. Instead, he blinked and cleared his throat, trying not to think about the fact that his favorite actor, his teenage crush, was standing on the opposite side of his car admitting that Jeongguk was attractive.

“That will earn you a ride,” Jeongguk agreed, keeping himself as calm as possible. He unlocked the car, and Jimin dropped into the passenger seat with a grin. Jeongguk paused and glanced up at the sky. The clouds floated above his head. The sun continued to shine. And Jimin called out his name from inside the car, embellishing Jeongguk’s daydream.

Please don’t let this be a trap.

FADE OUT

Chapter Text

EXT. INCHEON AIRPORT – DAY

The weather is bitterly cold in Incheon, and snow has fallen a few days ago. Unexpectedly, JIMIN is back in South Korea for a schedule, interrupting his time with JEONGGUK.

The last thing Jimin expected to have to do was fly back to South Korea, but being an in-demand actor had its downfalls, and unexpected travel was one of them. On Sunday evening, fresh off the adrenaline rush of his Saturday with Jeongguk, he found himself on a plane with Namjoon and Seokjin in tow, because the director of Minor Altar-cations wanted to have a few pre-production meetings, and some interviews had been ordered.

Jimin wasn’t ready to admit to anyone that he had spent last night lying in bed replaying his pseudo-lunch date with Jeongguk in his head. It was silly. He was being a fool. But Jeongguk had pulled one over on him so easily and with such grace (and a bit of a blush to his cheeks) that Jimin was still amazed. Not only had he learned a bit about the work life of a wedding planner—he had gotten to take a peek into who Jeongguk was as a person.

“Oh. Well, that’s not a problem. It sounds like fun. We’ll resume whenever you get back, right? Have a safe flight, Jimin-ssi. Take care.”

How could someone who had teased Jimin so freely the day before be so polite on the phone just this morning? Jimin walked through Incheon Airport after a lengthy flight with Seokjin by his side protectively and Namjoon trailing behind, but even as the cameras flashed and a few people walked respectfully alongside him to record his exit, he thought only of Jeongguk.

“Okay, so!” Seokjin sounded windblown as they piled into one car together, Namjoon taking shotgun and Jimin sliding all the way through to the far seat. “Quick schedule rundown. Namjoon? You said you had it.”

“Right.” With his seatbelt on, Namjoon twisted his upper body and began to read off his phone. “Your meeting with the director and a few others is tomorrow at eight o’clock. Fuck jetlag, right? That might run into the afternoon. I don’t really know. Tuesday you’re meeting with Bora. Her manager contacted me. She just wants to reconnect with you, so we’re meeting for lunch. And Tuesday night, Taehyung wants you.”

“You’re scheduling my best friend in?” Jimin asked, raising one eyebrow tiredly.

“It’s that or nothing,” Namjoon sighed, shrugging. “And Wednesday is a day full of interviews. Three of them before noon. That’s all we have so far. I don’t think there’s anything else. It should be a quick trip, but what do I know?”

“Uh, you should know everything,” Seokjin said, barely glancing up from his phone. “But I wouldn’t mind packing up Minsu and bringing him with us.”

“I was going to suggest that,” Jimin said with a small smile. “I haven’t seen him in weeks.”

“Well, he just got a haircut, so prepare to hear about it at least seven or eight times before he realizes that he’s repeating himself,” Seokjin griped, though he sounded rather fond. “Hey, which one of you is ordering food for us? I’m starving.”

Jimin ordered the food, but he hardly ate. Instead, he picked Winnie up from her boarding location and cuddled her ferociously as he napped on the couch all afternoon, Namjoon tapping away quietly on his iPad across the way like a lullaby while slurping down his kalguksu. 

It felt strange, being pulled out of Los Angeles so abruptly. Jimin had just barely settled in and was just starting to get the feeling that Jeongguk was warming up to him. He felt ridiculous, like he had to act a certain way to get Jeongguk to like him. Jeongguk already did like him. Or did Jeongguk only like actor Park Jimin, the illusion? Jimin could never tell.

Stop fixating on it. It’s just training for a role. That’s it. Don’t overthink it.

But Jeongguk…

Jeongguk was a cacophony of contradictions—shy smile and a bold stance. Soft words and a razor sharp tongue. Quiet but fierce compassion and a loud but gentle sense of humor. Jimin had spent very little time with him, but he was good at analyzing people, and Jeongguk was an open book in a foreign language. Easy to open, difficult to read.

He also wanted to be called cute. Jimin hadn’t missed that.

Namjoon left late at night, grumbling about jetlag and having to be up in the morning for Jimin’s meetings. Jimin insisted he could go it alone, but Namjoon refused, as always. He just promised to have a car ready by seven o’clock. 

“This is ungodly.”

“We’ve had worse call times,” Jimin croaked tiredly, sipping his coffee as Yeonwoo drove them to the correct office through Monday morning traffic. Namjoon was making an attempt at being bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, but he was failing. Seokjin was going to meet them there after dropping Minsu off at kindergarten. 

“We were in Los Angeles yesterday,” Namjoon pointed out. “Shit like that always makes my head hurt. Are you gonna talk to them about what you’ve done with Jeongguk this week at all?”

“Mm.” Jimin sipped his coffee again. “I might bring it up if the opportunity presents itself. But if it’s just logistics and stupid shit, I won’t say anything.”

“They know you’re overseas studying for the role,” Namjoon said, leaning his head back and letting out a tired sigh. “I’m sure they’ll be interested.”

They were interested. When Jimin walked into the meeting room and sat down at the large table (after being ambushed by Bora in a sweeping hug), one of the first things that the director asked was how Jimin’s shadowing was going and if he had anything that he wanted to share. Bora was spending two days a week at a bridal shop meeting all kinds of brides and watching them try on dresses and talking to them about their experiences. Kwak Heejin, the actor playing husband-to-be Jang Eunho, leaned forward in fascination as Jimin began to talk.

“And he had this huge board.” Jimin spread his hands to show the expanse of it. “A seating chart that he needed to fill out. He gave me a guest list, and he had the entire family’s gossip in his head. He knew everything. I was on the floor laughing. But he managed to make the perfect seating chart.”

The director was taking notes. So was the screenwriter and his assistant. Jimin was an awarded and lauded actor, after all. He didn’t like to say it out loud, but he knew that most directors or anyone working on a given project coveted him these days. After Sleight of Hand, he was a hot ticket, an instant “in,” the fast track to success for any show. But the script had to meet standards, because Jimin couldn’t work with a shitty script. Poor writing was the downfall of even the best cast shows.

“So he just pretended you were the groom,” the director, Yihyun, said as she also leaned in, fascinated. Jimin nodded, sipping his coffee. “Unreal. See, those are exactly the kind of experiences we need. The script is—I mean, it’s brilliant, but there’s so much we can add to it with your character and for Bora to work with if you keep shadowing this man.”

Jimin promised to keep shadowing. The meeting lasted several more hours, but it was all fun and games for Jimin. He knew he could go home and take a nap later.

After lunch with Bora on Tuesday (she brought pictures from Winter in the Water; Jimin almost leapt into oncoming traffic while she laughed until she cried), Jimin anticipated Taehyung’s visit, and he got exactly what he had hoped for. Taehyung banged on the door of his apartment, and when Jimin let him in, it was with a mountain of food and soju.

“Hello, my beautiful angel baby, love of my life, sugar pie, pumpkin spice.”

“You’re insufferable,” Jimin said as he leaned in and cupped one hand behind Taehyung’s head with affection to kiss his cheek, since Taehyung’s hands were full.

“Our time is precious,” Taehyung insisted as he grinned, dropping the food on the table and then yanking out a chair and collapsing into it. Winnie leapt up onto the table with a meow and arched her head towards Taehyung, seeking attention. Taehyung dragged her into his lap as she wiggled and attempted to escape, likely seeing the grave mistake she had made.

“How’s the shoot been?” Jimin asked as he sat down and pulled open the cardboard container, breaking apart his chopsticks. He plucked up a piece of spicy chicken and popped it into his mouth. Taehyung was wearing a beanie to cover his black hair (he had dyed it back to black from its previous honey blonde for his current role), and he was wearing black-framed glasses that he nudged back up onto his nose.

“Exhausting,” Taehyung admitted, his grip on Winnie tightening when she tried to escape. “No, you stay and cuddle me. This is oxytocin time. Be nice.” He glanced back up at Jimin. “The director is pulling the shot list out of his ass most days, I think. How’s L.A. been?”

“Surprisingly fun,” Jimin replied, picking up two pieces of cubed radish at once to refresh his mouth. “The wedding planner I’m shadowing is really great. Jeongguk. We made a good choice. He’s… yeah.”

“Oh, Christ.”

“Don’t you dare,” Jimin said the moment Taehyung reacted. With an amused but pained grin, Taehyung released Winnie, and then he pitched forward and raised his eyebrows at Jimin.

“Is he cute?”

“Very.” Jimin wasn’t one to mince words or dance around the facts. He was a straight shooter with Taehyung. “This six-foot-tall beautiful man is planning people’s weddings and blushing when I call him cute. You should see him work. It’s the sexiest thing ever.”

“You’ve known him for a week.”

“And? You were balls deep in Namjoon after three days,” Jimin pointed out, and Taehyung snorted, conceding.

“Okay, you got me there. And then he was balls deep in me after a week. But those are the unimportant details. Are you balls deep in Jeongguk? Do I want to know?”

“No, you creature, I’m not,” Jimin snapped playfully, and Taehyung grinned as he smacked his lips, chewing his food. “Ah, I don’t know.” Jimin propped his cheek against his fist. “You’re right. It’s been a week. I always do this, don’t I? Fall for my co-stars.”

“Don’t give me that self-loathing crap,” Taehyung said in a singsong tone. “I used to do it all the time, too, before Namjoon came along. It’s fun to have a crush. Even more fun to sleep with them, but I digress. What I’m saying is, Jeongguk isn’t your co-star. He’s just the wedding planner you’re shadowing so you can kick some ass in this new show.”

“None of that was helpful,” Jimin grumbled, and Taehyung clicked his tongue, reaching for his shot glass and the soju bottle simultaneously.

“I’m saying that you can flirt with Jeongguk and have a little crush on him and still learn shit. It’s a win-win.”

“But he’s a fan.”

“And? I mean, okay, fans can be—you know,” Taehyung said, wiggling his eyebrows as Jimin snickered appreciatively. “But he seems like a normal guy who just happens to watch your shows and thinks you’re cool. Flirting with him might be fun.”

“What if he doesn’t want me to flirt with him? What if I end up reading the situation wrong and fuck up my shadowing job?” Jimin asked. “Honestly. And what if he flirts back, but then it turns out that he’s a crazed fan? Or that he’s—fuck, am I even listening to myself? Never mind.”

Taehyung was already laughing. “Yeah, see? It’s as crazy as you’re making it out to be. You’re a human, he’s a human. Have fun with it. It’s not like you’re going to marry him.”

“That feels like ominous foreshadowing,” Jimin teased. “That’s the killing line they say in our shows, come on.”

“Okay, well, then, I’ll level with you.” Taehyung poured a shot of soju for Jimin, and then tapped their glasses together and tossed back the shots, both immediately shoving a piece of chicken into their mouths afterwards. Taehyung chewed and swallowed, and then he said, “You’re a celebrity. Point-blank. Jeongguk isn’t. You can flirt all you want, and maybe he’ll flirt back. I don’t even know the guy. I’m sure he’s lovely. But you know what I always say. Jeongguk may never want you because you’re a celebrity. Some people love the idea of it. Some people hate it.”

“Okay, O Wise One,” Jimin said with a weak smile.

“Namjoon’s intelligence is rubbing off on me,” Taehyung sighed, making it sound like a complaint. “I’m serious, though. Don’t expect anything.”

“I know you are.” Jimin tapped his fingers on his shot glass in contemplation. “I don’t know. I feel like it’s just this repetitive cycle with me. Can I be deep for a second?”

“Regular deep or balls deep?”

“I can’t fucking stand you.”

“So regular deep.” Taehyung grinned, and then he waved his hand. “Go on.”

“I’m tired of trying.” Jimin rubbed his lips together, and then he sighed and continued. “I’m tired of trying to find someone I can share my life with. I feel like I look for it in everyone I meet and they all suck, and now I’ve met Jeongguk, and he’s…”

“You like him.”

“I barely know him. But… yeah. I do,” Jimin admitted. “I like him in a way that I want to know more about him, you know? But I’m scared that the things I was saying will happen. The shallow fan shit or the—you know. It’s like I’m expecting it to go wrong. Waiting for it.”

“Instead of just having fun with it,” Taehyung said as a somewhat gentle suggestion. “Repeat after me—pretty man. Flirting. Fun. No worries.”

“Pretty man. God, he’s so pretty,” Jimin moaned, and then he dramatically flopped onto the table as Taehyung laughed. “I flirted with him for two seconds and I wanted to die.”

“Well, we’re making progress.” Taehyung lifted the bottle, his eyes sparkling. “More soju?”

EXT. INCHEON AIRPORT – NIGHT

JIMIN is good at getting his way, and he’s especially good at it when he’s trying to convince NAMJOON. And this time, on the return to Los Angeles, SEOKJIN is bringing a special guest.

“Are you kidding?”

“I’m very serious.”

“You want to leave right now.” Namjoon eyed Jimin warily. “Seokjin wants to take Minsu. I told him maybe on Friday.”

“Can we make it tomorrow morning?” Jimin pleaded. “Please. I have a schedule on Friday. Come on, hyung.”

All it had taken for Jimin to fall apart and beg for a plane flight back to the States were three simple text messages in succession:

JEON JEONGGUK [11:03:25AM]

Jimin-ssi, this is Jeongguk! When will you be back in LA?

JEON JEONGGUK [11:04:26AM]

I have a cake tasting on Friday with a client and I think it will be fun. Will you be here?

JEON JEONGGUK [11:05:35AM]

I really want you to come with me!

Jimin had debated a premature return to Los Angeles until that last text message, and then he had gone running to Namjoon to make demands. And Namjoon caved easily and beautifully, heaving a sigh and making the arrangements.

And that was how Jimin found himself in a car thumb wrestling Minsu.

“You’re definitely cheating.”

“No I’m not,” Minsu insisted, wiggling because his seatbelt was against the side of his neck. Seokjin grabbed his son by the shoulders and shifted him so he could face Jimin more, since he was in the middle seat.

“You have extendable thumbs. They grow, I know it,” Jimin declared, and Minsu giggled and grabbed Jimin’s hand to play again. Jimin let out a dramatic sigh, and then he hooked his hand with Minsu’s small hand to thumb wrestle. He was barely trying, of course, but Minsu was into it. Jimin gritted his teeth and pretended to struggle, and Minsu tilted their hands and fought for dominance over Jimin’s thumb, and he got it. Jimin reached out with his other hand and lifted Minsu’s thumb, and Minsu let out a shout.

“You’re the cheater! I won that one because you cheated!” he decided, and Seokjin snorted.

“I’m teaching him all the right things, aren’t I?” he said fondly as the car pulled up to the curb. “Alright, let Jimin get out first, baby. Come here.”

“Is it because of the cameras?” Minsu asked as Jimin lifted the large jacket off the floor and handed it to Seokjin. “Da-a-a-ad,” Minsu groaned, but he didn’t complain when Seokjin draped the jacket over Minsu entirely to hide him. Jimin grabbed his bag and threw open the car door, pulling up his mask and making sure his sunglasses were on. The camera flashes were immediate, and he slammed the car door shut quickly. This time, it was Namjoon by his side on the way into the airport, because Seokjin needed to protect Minsu first and foremost.

The flight was a breeze. Jimin was always in business prestige, and Minsu, who had only ever been on one other plane in his life before, was beside himself. He provided entertainment for Jimin and gave Jimin a reasonable excuse to watch Boss Baby without being judged.

Landing in Los Angeles was like a breath of fresh air after being mobbed at the airport, because no one paid any attention. Seokjin could walk with Minsu on one hip while carrying their bags, and Jimin could pull out his phone to send a text message without worry about someone seeing what he was texting.

JIMIN [08:06:25AM]

JK, it’s Jimin. I’m back in LA, so I can come with you on Friday!

JEON JEONGGUK [08:08:02AM]

Welcome back! That’s awesome. I’m at the office all day today if you want to stop by ^_^

“Okay, slight change for today’s schedule,” Jimin said the moment Jeongguk texted back. Seokjin, who was now driving the rental car with Minsu in his booster seat in the back, glanced at Jimin in the rearview mirror as Namjoon turned his head to the left from the passenger seat.

“What do you mean?” Namjoon asked. “We just got here. We’re supposed to take long naps and that’s it.”

“Not tired.” Jimin tucked his phone away. “We can go to the apartment and settle in, but then I’d like to go to Jeongguk’s office.”

“Already?”

“He said he’s there all day.”

“Christ,” Seokjin grumbled, and Jimin leaned forward.

“Does the peanut gallery have something to say?”

“What’s a peanut gallery?” Minsu asked innocently.

“It’s just a saying which means that someone is—”

“Yah, I’ll teach my kid how to properly insult someone,” Seokjin said, but then he burst out laughing at the same time as Namjoon, and Jimin rolled his eyes. Minsu, likely jet lagged but wide-eyed and wearing a cute little baseball cap backwards thanks to Seokjin, just blinked and then tried to laugh even though he had no clue what was going on.

They settled in at the apartment. Minsu sat down on the couch and promptly fell asleep within three minutes. Namjoon promised to play babysitter, and Seokjin drove a refreshed Jimin right to Jeongguk’s office, bright and early.

The windchimes sounded overhead when Jimin gently pushed open the door of Jeongguk’s office. But the moment he stepped in, he felt his eyes grow wider, and he stared.

“Oh!” Jeongguk looked up. “Hi, good morning.”

MUSIC CUE: “bungee” by baekhyun

Jimin stifled a laugh, and then he pushed his sunglasses up into his hair and set his hands on his hips, surveying the scene before him. The entire office floor was covered in stuff —bags, tissue paper, little cans of what looked like sparkling water, other small toiletries, candy, the works. And Jeongguk was sitting on the floor with his legs in a V, absolutely surrounded. He was wearing grey tweed baggy pants and a thin white long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves pushed up. His clear-framed glasses were perched on top of his head, and he was barefoot.

“What, uh…”

“Welcome back,” Jeongguk said with a grin that turned shy quickly when he scratched the side of his nose. He had changed the stud to a small nose ring, and his nail polish was now a calming shade of lavender. “Today is the day I’m creating little gift bags to hang on the doors of hotel rooms for wedding guests. Care to join me?”

“Do I have to remove my shoes? Is that a stipulation?” Jimin asked.

Pretty man. Flirting. Fun. No worries.

“Seeing as I have a very serious foot fetish, then yes,” Jeongguk said with a straight face.

“I’m seeing red flags,” Jimin replied, and Jeongguk snorted and waved his hand. “But sure, I can join in.”

“Cool. Come on in,” Jeongguk said with the same smile, and he patted the floor between his legs. Immediately, like a character in a cartoon, his cheeks flushed pink, and he added while stammering, “No, sorry, not—not right here, but just—oh, God.”

“I can sit right there if you want,” Jimin offered, flicking his eyebrows up once as Jeongguk pressed his fingers to his temples and closed his eyes, embarrassed. Jimin tiptoed through the mess, and then he boldly stepped right in between Jeongguk’s legs and crouched down. When Jeongguk opened his eyes, Jimin swore that the poor man’s life flashed before his eyes. But Jimin just grinned and plopped down, sliding back and keeping a polite distance.

“So, gift bags,” Jimin said, because he could see that Jeonguk was considering spiraling the drain for dramatic effect. With a deep breath to calm himself, Jeongguk nodded.

“Yeah. This is for a really lovely couple I’ve been working with for almost a year. Their wedding is next month,” Jeongguk said, sounding fond. 

“Do they have a lot of family drama like Patrick and Kayla?” Jimin asked with a grin, and Jeongguk’s shoulders relaxed as his eyes sparkled.

“No. The one guy, Jake? Well, Junwoo. He’s Korean-American. He found me. And his fiancé, Wesley, graduated from the same university that my assistant currently goes to. They’re really good together. Hey, you know what?” Jeongguk stopped fiddling with one of the bags as he spoke, eyes lighting up as he looked at Jimin. “You could come.”

“Hmm?”

“To the wedding. Jake and Wesley’s wedding. You could be a guest,” Jeongguk said excitedly. “I’m the wedding planner, so I could totally bring you as, like, my fake assistant. You’re a good actor. You could pull it off.”

“You think they’d let me crash their wedding?” Jimin asked skeptically. Jeongguk clicked his tongue and began to reach for things around him.

“You’d be with me, Jimin-ssi. It wouldn’t matter. Now! Let me explain how to organize everything.”

Jimin sat cross-legged and listened as Jeongguk explained what needed to go into each bag and how exactly to tie the cute little note onto the bag’s handles. As he talked animatedly, holding up tiny spray bottles of hand sanitizer and sheet face masks and candy bars, Jimin just stared. He was only half-listening, and he wanted to feel guilty, but how could he? 

Pretty man. Flirting. Fun. No worries.

The “no worries” part wasn’t going to go well for Jimin. He was a goner. Jeongguk was pretty, so pretty, and flirting felt dangerous. It was fun, but only one week into it and Jimin was already starting to pick up on some of Jeongguk’s little nuances.

Jeongguk spoke Korean faster than his brain worked, Jimin figured, so sometimes he just paused while explaining like he was buffering before exploding into more dialogue. He spoke about something as small and silly as gift bags as if it was the most important thing in the world, and Jimin realized that what he knew about Jeongguk was confined to the job. Perhaps Jimin was supposed to only flirt with the pretty man before him and have fun with it, but he also wanted to know more than just the flavor of sparkling water that Jeongguk liked best.

“Your tattoos,” Jimin said as they started to fill up the bags meticulously. “You have two full sleeves.”

“Mhm.” Jeongguk tongue poked out of the side of his mouth to touch his lip ring briefly before he grabbed a note to tie onto the bag. “I started when I was nineteen and just kept adding. It’s all stuff that means a lot to me. My birth flower and the Korean flag and a tiger and a lot of flowers to fill in the spaces.”

“Did it hurt?”

“The elbows did,” Jeongguk said as he displayed one arm and showed the crook of his elbow, using one finger to pull back the sleeve. The space was completely inked in black, and Jimin gave him a wide-eyed look. He grinned. “Don’t worry. I have a pain kink. It was excellent.”

“Uh.”

“I’m kidding,” Jeongguk said with the same grin, but his ears were pink. “Do you have any tattoos?”

“No, but I’d like to have a few. Maybe when my acting career goes down the toilet,” Jimin mused, and Jeongguk snickered. “You’re kind of like a work of art.”

“Huh?” Jeongguk fumbled the candy bar in his hands, and Jimin suppressed a smile.

“Yeah. All the tattoos and piercings and everything. You’re like a living, breathing piece of art,” Jimin said flippantly. “I think it’s cool. Hand me the Snickers bar?”

Jeongguk handed over the candy bar. Jimin took it, but he paused and cupped his entire hand around Jeongguk’s palm with the candy bar still in it. He flipped Jeongguk’s hand and looked at the tattoos there—a small flower on each finger with the roots trailing down, and the roots spelled the word BLOOM on his knuckles (a double O on his middle knuckle).

“Why did you decide to be a wedding planner?” Jimin asked as he gently released Jeongguk’s hand, taking the candy bar. Jeongguk clutched that hand as a fist in his palm, looking momentarily stunned.

“I, um… Well, I didn’t want to be a businessman or anything. I knew I wanted to work in hospitality or event planning or something like that. And, um, when I was in school here, one of the professor’s assistants got married, and she invited the class. And I just kind of knew after that, you know?” Jeongguk explained in a quiet voice. “I really love… love. Everything about it. And helping people plan for their wedding day just seemed right up my alley.”

“You love love,” Jimin repeated. “That’s quite a statement.”

Jeongguk shrugged, and immediately, Jimin knew that he was shutting himself off. He was deflecting. He didn’t want to talk about it, or he didn’t want to talk about himself. Something about it bothered him.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry,” Jimin apologized, but Jeongguk, startled, just rapidly shook his head and took a deep breath.

“No, it’s okay,” he insisted. “I just, um… it’s complicated. And I don’t—I don’t really want to unload on you when you’re just… here to study my job for your next show. You don’t need that.”

“Jeongguk.” Jimin set aside his finished gift bag. “I told you before that I wanted to learn about you, not just your job.”

There was a moment of heavy silence where Jeongguk just chewed on his bottom lip, but Jimin could tell the wheels were turning in his head. Then Jeongguk abruptly shoved the gift bag materials out of his way and took another deep breath, locking eyes with Jimin.

“I don’t want to tell you too much because you’re rich and famous and I just feel… weird about it,” Jeongguk blurted out hastily, looking like he regretted it the moment he said it but plowing on anyway. “I—I want to talk to you. I feel like—like maybe we could be good friends. But… I don’t know. I want to learn things about you. Because I just think you’re… you’re really…”

“Yeah,” Jimin whispered, his heart suddenly stuttering. “I know what you mean.”

“I know you told me all this stuff,” Jeongguk continued, waving one hand. “About the illusion shattering and everything. But you—you just got off a fifteen-hour plane ride and came straight here. And I can’t tell if that’s because you’re dedicated to the role or because I told you I’d be here all day.”

“Jeongguk, I had the best time last week shadowing you,” Jimin admitted, because he had nothing to lose. “I was upset when I had to fly back to Korea for work. So yeah, of course I wanted to come straight here.”

“Okay. Okay, that’s…” Jeongguk blew out a breath, his lips vibrating. “Can I be really blunt?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t want to share all these things about myself if it’s one-sided,” Jeongguk said. “I don’t… I don’t want to get close to someone just to have them ripped away or—or for me to do all the talking and the other person never shares anything. I’ve dealt with that in the past. I don’t…”

“I don’t really share much with other people,” Jimin confessed. “For that exact reason. Most people in my life only want me around for convenience. It’s a horrible fucking cliché, but it’s true. People don’t see me as a person with substance. I’m just an actor with fame and money. And maybe this is too much to unload on you when I’ve only known you for a week, but…”

“My friends started dating three days after they met, and now they’re married,” Jeongguk said, and then he stammered and waved his hand. “No, not that—I’m not suggesting that—I’m not saying that we have to—”

“Jeongguk, stop, stop,” Jimin laughed, relaxing. “It’s okay, I get it. I know. Time is a social construct. I got it.”

“Fuck.” Jeongguk pressed his hands to his face momentarily, muffling his voice. “Do you want to see me put my foot in my mouth?”

“Come again?”

“Foot. In my mouth. Do you—wait, no, no,” Jeongguk groaned, and Jimin fell backwards onto the floor laughing as Jeongguk added, “Not because of the fake foot fetish! No, stop!”

“Don’t forget the pain kink,” Jimin said to the ceiling, still laughing.

“Oh my God, I’m an embarrassment,” Jeongguk moaned. “I hope a black hole forms and swallows me up and I die.”

“Okay, maybe we need to get you into acting,” Jimin said with a grin, sitting up again. Jeongguk was curled into a ball with his forehead on his knees, arms hanging by his sides dramatically. Jimin rolled over his knees and nudged the side of Jeongguk’s knee, and it had the intended effect; Jeongguk flailed and toppled over, and Jimin burst out laughing again.

They both settled with a sigh. Jeongguk began filling up another gift bag. His movements were shy, and then he finally glanced up at Jimin, because Jimin wasn’t doing anything. He could sense that Jeongguk had one more thing to say.

“So… So you came here right after your long flight just to see me?”

Now he was blushing furiously, and Jimin almost keeled over. He had half a mind to wrench his heart out of his chest to give it a good scolding: stop that. You do this every single time. Real relationships take time and effort. You can’t lead him on like this. There are so many things that could go wrong here.

But it felt too good.

“Well.” Jimin slid another empty gift bag towards himself. “I didn’t not come here just to see you after my long flight.”

“Ah.” Jeongguk clicked his tongue, lowering his eyes as he twirled the ribbon around his fingers repeatedly. He tugged until he was cutting off his circulation, and then he unraveled it and looped it through the small hole of the notecard. “Well. That settles it.”

“Smooth.” 

“Shut up,” Jeongguk grumbled, but then his eyes bugged comically, and he whipped his head up to stare in horror at Jimin. The informal tone vanished, replaced with the most formal speech he could cling to: “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean that. What I mean is that—I’m sorry, that’s—”

“Jeon Jeongguk,” Jimin interrupted firmly, and Jeongguk’s mouth snapped shut. Jimin took a deep breath, because if he was going to hell, he was going to do it properly. “I’m trying to flirt with you. Stop apologizing and flirt back. Or tell me to fuck off. Either one.”

Jeongguk frowned, and then he started patting the ground, feeling around. “Black hole, black hole, black hole,” he murmured mostly to himself, and Jimin let out a laugh, reaching out a gentle foot to kick Jeongguk’s leg. When Jeongguk looked up at him and grinned, Jimin felt his breath catch.

He’s awesome at his job and very outgoing, but he’s kind of shy in real life.

The line from the initial email scrolled through Jimin’s mind like a teleprompter, because as Jeongguk cautiously settled back in and asked Jimin to hand him the scissors, Jimin realized that there was so much more to Jeongguk than he assumed. This man was a wedding planner for a reason, not only because he witnessed a nice wedding. Jeongguk loved love. And a man who had stars in his eyes over the concept of love but didn’t want to talk about it surely had a reason.

Jimin suddenly craved to know everything about Jeon Jeongguk.

INT. JEONGGUK’S CAR – DAY

JEONGGUK is behind the wheel driving JIMIN through Los Angeles to a cake tasting. If he’s nervous to be the driver with a celebrity as the passenger, it doesn’t show.

“He’s almost six.”

“He’s adorable. And that’s your bodyguard?”

“‘Bodyguard’ always sounds so funny. Head of security,” Jimin said with a grin, tucking away his phone after showing a picture of Seokjin with Minsu that Seokjin had just sent from Disneyland. “And because I’m so low maintenance when I’m in America, he has time to take Minsu to Disneyland.”

“That’s awesome. But when you’re in Korea,” Jeongguk began, and Jimin sighed.

“It’s a lot more work for him, yes,” he confirmed. Jeongguk nodded, and then the traffic light turned green. Los Angeles traffic was “fun,” as Jeongguk put it, though Jimin was struggling to find the thrill in waiting three minutes for a traffic light to turn green. But he didn’t mind watching Jeongguk drive with his one hand on the steering wheel and the other elbow on the center console.

“And he trusts me with you?” Jeongguk asked, and Jimin snorted.

“Am I a pet?”

“Depends. Do you like leashes and collars?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Jimin said, and Jeongguk’s ears turned red as Jimin laughed again. Jeongguk was great at delivering one-line zingers, but beyond that, he wanted to perish in embarrassment. It was as if he didn’t consider the fallout of his jokes, which just made him more endearing. “He’s very trusting, though, yes. I’m a big boy.”

“Well, I know some celebrities who can’t even go to lunch without supervision,” Jeongguk said in a tone of warning. “Fame is complicated. I probably don’t even know the half of it.”

“It’s not the most dazzling and wonderful thing in the world,” Jimin agreed. “But it has its perks.”

“Seems like a pretty sweet gig,” Jeongguk said with a lopsided grin, stopping at another red light. He draped his wrist over the steering wheel and tilted his head downward as he glanced over at Jimin, his sunglasses sliding down his nose as he peered over them. He was wearing blue contact lenses today, and his outfit consisted of black pants with a black belt and a white V-neck t-shirt and nothing more. Jimin knew that drooling was frowned upon, but he was nothing if not a loser when it came to harboring crushes. Jeongguk was the candy shop and Jimin was the kid.

“It pays the bills,” Jimin joked as the light turned green again. Jeongguk palmed the steering wheel for a left-hand turn, and Jimin raised one eyebrow but said nothing. He was now content with being the interested party out of the two of them. He had no shame. Besides, tabloids always called him a “natural flirt” and a “charismatic king.” So perhaps Jeongguk thought nothing of it.

“Ah, here’s the place.” Jeongguk turned right into the small parking lot, and there was only one more parking space available. He passed it, threw the car into reverse, braced one hand on the back of Jimin’s seat, turned over his shoulder, and backed into the parking space with ease.

“Okay,” Jimin said calmly. 

“You don’t have to tell me that was sexy.” Jeongguk killed the engine with a grin, throwing the car door open as he glanced at Jimin. “I already know.”

“You brat,” Jimin murmured, and he heard Jeongguk laugh.

“We’re meeting the bride and groom here today,” Jeongguk announced as they both circled to the front of the car. “They’re… an interesting couple. She’s a bit anxious about everything and he couldn’t possibly care less. But this cake tasting is very important to her, so they’re both going to be present—ah, there she is. ANNA!”

Anna was a petite woman in a pretty wrap dress with her hair done perfectly, and when Jeongguk called out to her, she spun around.

“Uh oh,” Jimin muttered immediately, because the moment Anna turned around, it was obvious that she was frantic. Something was wrong. Instantly, Jeongguk approached her, pushing his sunglasses up. He didn’t even say hello; he just offered up an open pair of arms.

“Hi, I’m sorry,” Anna apologized, immediately hugging Jeongguk. “Oh, God, I’m sorry. He said he would be here, but I tried to call him, and he’s not answering me.”

“Okay, well, let’s not panic,” Jeongguk said calmly. “This is Jimin, by the way. He’s shadowing me.”

“Nice to meet you,” Anna said, frazzled as she extended her hand. Jimin shook it. “Should I call him again?”

“No, no. Our appointment is in ten minutes, so let’s just head inside, okay? They’ll call for us when it’s our turn.”

Jeongguk’s tone was so soothing that even Jimin would have forgotten all about his absent significant other. Anna didn’t seem to forget, but she did nod and take a deep breath, and then she quietly thanked Jeongguk as Jeongguk held open the door.

Jimin’s English was subpar at best, but he could understand the basics of Jeongguk’s quiet conversation with Anna as they sat and waited for their turn to complete their cake tasting appointment. Jeongguk had his iPad out, and he was showing Anna all sorts of fun things—color schemes, Pinterest boards, decorations, a funny video of a dog as a ring bearer. And Jimin just sat there and listened, watching Jeongguk work his magic as time ticked away. The groom-to-be wasn’t contacting Anna. Their appointment was a bit delayed. But Anna was smiling and pointing things out to Jeongguk, their heads bent together as they conversed.

If I don’t build trust, then I’m just another stupid wedding planner.

Jeongguk seemed to have built mountains of trust. It was phenomenal and bewildering to Jimin, the way that Jeongguk kept Anna’s attention and just rubbed her back kindly when she started looking at the door expectantly.

“Oh, God, they’re coming to get us. And he’s not here,” Anna hissed, because now the panic had returned. She was pale in the face. “This is so humiliating, I can’t just—I can’t do a cake tasting alone, oh my God—”

“Good afternoon,” the woman said as she approached to greet them. “You have a two o’clock session?”

“We do. Hi.” Jeongguk rose to his feet and offered his hand. “This is my fiancée, Anna. Say hi, darling.”

Anna rose to her feet in slow motion, and Jimin stood up as well, raising his eyebrows. Behind Anna’s back, Jimin saw Jeongguk extend a hand, and he noticed that Jeongguk was handing over the iPad. Jimin quickly grabbed it.

“Um.” Anna glanced at the door one more time, and then she looked at Jeongguk, confused. Jeongguk just blinked at her, and then he gave her a small smile. And then Jimin watched as Anna’s entire body relaxed. She nodded. She gathered her courage. And then she turned and shook the woman’s hand. “Hello.”

“And this is our wedding planner, Jimin,” Jeongguk introduced, gesturing to Jimin.

“Wonderful, right this way,” the woman said, not one to waste time. She turned to lead the way, and Jeongguk quickly spun to face Anna. He offered his elbow, and the tears of grief that could have fallen evaporated. Anna took Jeongguk’s arm and gripped onto him like he was a lifeline, and as they walked, Jeongguk glanced over his shoulder at Jimin.

Play the role.

Jimin was being thrown to the wolves time and time again in only a week, and Jeongguk was the most unconventional wedding planner he had ever met; he was the only wedding planner Jimin had ever met, but surely his methods didn’t meet typical wedding planner standards. The fact that Anna seemed quite content with Jeongguk standing in for her own fiancé spoke volumes.

MUSIC CUE: “goodnight and go” by imogen heap

Jimin had to be the wedding planner in that moment. He could see in Jeongguk’s eyes that this was an opportunity. Jimin fumbled a little but managed to find the inspirational photo for the cake Anna wanted to show to the baker, and under the table, he felt Jeongguk’s hand on his knee in a gesture of brief reassurance. It made Jimin blush as he continued to scroll through the necessary documents that he needed to show. They discussed the budget earnestly with Jeongguk providing subliminal verbal prompts to Jimin so they could get through the discussion—the venue, the date, the approximate number of guests. 

The baker then presented several types of cake to sample. Jeongguk oohed and ahhed without missing a beat. Anna’s tense smile loosened to something more manageable as they discussed the difference between fondant and buttercream. And Jimin just watched in awe, taking vague notes whenever he could, still feeling Jeongguk’s hand on his knee even though it was long gone.

“I think I like the buttercream frosting better than the vanilla frosting,” Jeongguk offered in a calm voice after the third cake sample. “What do you think? What’s your taste?”

“I like the buttercream better, too,” Anna said with a smile. “But you know, we haven’t tried the red velvet cake.”

“Well, clearly we’re missing out,” Jeongguk declared, grabbing a slice of the red velvet cake that had been offered. He cut a small bite, and then he cupped his hand underneath the fork and offered it to Anna. Anna accepted the bite, and then she hummed and nodded.

“Write that down,” Jeongguk immediately said to Jimin, and Anna giggled.

And it continued just like that. They tried one sample of cake after the other. They even tried dessert shooters just for fun, attempted to sample things other than traditional wedding cake recipes. Jimin observed it all like it was a choreographed dance. Jeongguk was attentive and affectionate and doting, giving Anna his full and undivided attention. He was dutiful and listened to everything she had to say, never once undermining her or calling her opinions into question.

He was perfect.

Jeongguk spent the entire hour comforting Anna. Encouraging her. Whispering in Korean to Jimin what he wanted the notes to say when the woman running the session wasn’t looking. And when the session ended and Anna had decided on her cake with a smile on her face, Jimin knew that it had been a success, and it was all because Jeongguk had stepped up to the plate.

“I’m never eating another piece of cake again,” Anna moaned as they walked out.

“Not until October,” Jeongguk pointed out, and Anna rolled her eyes with a small smile, fishing for her car keys. “I’m just glad you found something you loved. Tell Stephen I said hello, okay?”

“Yeah.” Anna’s smile faltered as she nodded. “Thank you. JK, seriously. Thank you so much. I… I was really panicking. I don’t even know why he didn’t show up. He promised he’d be here, but… anyways. Thank you for helping me. Do, um… do I owe you any…?”

“What? No,” Jeongguk laughed, nudging Anna. “You paid a deposit and the cost for my services as a wedding planner months ago. This is just the job. But it’s also helping out someone important to me. You don’t owe me anything. Go home and rest, okay? And tell Rocky that Tigger says hi.”

Anna’s smile returned. “ I will. Thank you so much. Jimin, it was nice to meet you. Thank you for filling in.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Jimin said, and then Anna hurried off to her car, pulling out her phone. Jimin waited, and then he turned to Jeongguk. “Tigger?”

“My cat,” Jeongguk stated, and Jimin’s heart fluttered. “Anna has a cat, too. They’ve played together in my office.”

“I didn’t know you had a cat,” Jimin said as they walked to the car.

“Ironically, my cat is Tigger and your cat is Winnie,” Jeongguk said with a grin as he opened his car door. Jimin paused, startled, but then he remembered that he was a celebrity who posted pictures of his cat on Instagram. Of course Jeongguk knew.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” Jeongguk started the car and buckled his seatbelt.

“I learned a lot in that hour,” Jimin declared first. “Trying to fake being in your shoes. There’s a cake tasting in the script of the show, so it was funny to actually be part of one. I think in the script, from what I remember, the groom has an allergic reaction to the frosting of one of the cakes.”

“Oh, Lord,” Jeongguk laughed.

“But I wanted to ask about—well, everything. Why did you fill in?” Jimin wondered. “Her fiancé didn’t even bother to show up. And given how anxious she seems to be, this probably isn’t the first time he’s abandoned her at a moment’s notice.”

“Right. It’s at least the seventh or eighth time,” Jeongguk confirmed. “He’s missed every appointment we’ve arranged, sometimes on purpose. He’s also explicitly told Anna that he doesn’t like me because he found out that I’m bisexual, so he’s automatically threatened. He doesn’t think a man should be planning their wedding, or that I need to be completely gay. So he’s that kind of person. Hence why I wasn’t surprised that he didn’t show up. But I can’t tell Anna that.”

“What, that her fiancé is a misogynistic, biphobic loser?” Jimin asked, feeling a creeping sensation of anger boiling in his stomach. Jeongguk sighed as he pulled out of the parking lot.

“The marriage is going to end in divorce eventually. I’ve seen enough marriages and relationships and weddings to know that much,” Jeongguk divulged. “But that’s the thing about being a wedding planner. You just have to eat your own fist and let it all happen. Indulge people on their special day and leave it at that.”

“You’ve never told her what you think?”

“No. Never. Because she already believes that everyone thinks the worst of her fiancé, and I don’t want to add to that, no matter how true it is,” Jeongguk replied. “I’m here to be her pillar of support. I’m planning what she thinks is the most important day of her life thus far. So if that means filling in and giving her all the love and attention that she deserves but isn’t getting, then that’s my job.”

Jimin stared out the front windshield for a moment, still clutching Jeongguk’s iPad in his lap. Then he turned to look at Jeongguk.

“You really are amazing. You know that?”

“Oh. What? Um… thank you,” Jeongguk murmured, keeping his eyes on the road. “You, uh… you stepped up really quickly, you know. You didn’t even ask questions. So thank you for that. I know we’ve only known each other for a week, and you’re still learning and everything, but—”

“Me pretending to be a wedding planner is nothing compared to what you’re doing, Jeongguk,” Jimin said.

“Well, now you know to ask for allergy information for the cake recipes,” Jeongguk said in an attempt to deflect, and Jimin grinned. He allowed the deflection for a moment, but then he sat up straighter.

“What are you doing tonight?”

“Tonight? Uh… I don’t know. Getting delivery for dinner and cuddling my cat?”

“What if I take you out to dinner instead?” Jimin asked, shooting his shot. Then, to his surprise, Jeongguk promptly and abruptly flicked on his blinker and turned into the parking lot of a McDonald’s at a moment’s notice. He swung into a parking spot, and then he put the car in park and took a deep breath, turning to Jimin.

“I know a place,” he declared, and Jimin let out a breathy laugh. “If, um… if you want. But can I take you out to dinner?”

“I kind of wanted to treat you after the spectacular show of talent I just witnessed,” Jimin said with a playful scrunch of his nose.

“Give me a chance,” Jeongguk said softly, hopefully. And then they just stared at one another, a silent dialogue between them. There was a lot of “oh, shit, we’re really doing this” and “this is too fast” and “what the hell am I doing” and “this is like a real-life fucking romantic comedy” in the back-and-forth. Jimin could feel it radiating off Jeongguk as they sat in the quiet car, swapping telepathic thoughts. Surely Jeongguk had never expected to go to dinner with the actor he admired so much. It wasn’t as if Jimin had ever expected to fall—no, stumble and face plant—into some of the most intensely unexpected and chaotic feelings he had ever experienced before. A week. His silly little crushes usually evaporated after seven days. But this was relentless. This crush had Jimin by the throat.

Jimin took a deep breath. He admired the slight blush on Jeongguk’s cheeks and swore that he had the same look, a mirror image. Jeongguk was more than just cute, and he made Jimin laugh. Made him feel giddy. Like a natural response to Jeongguk’s very presence, Jimin felt himself smile.

“What did you have in mind?”

INT. SOBOK KOREAN RESTAURANT L.A. – NIGHT

JIMIN is learning quickly about who JEONGGUK is outside of wedding planning. JEONGGUK is both oblivious and delighted to have someone to talk to besides his cat.

There was a rhythm to Jeongguk’s life. Jimin learned it very quickly.

Maybe he marched to the beat of his own drum, but Jeongguk lived his life like he had a soundtrack backing him up at all times. And Jimin, to both his own pleasure and his own dismay, fell into step with Jeongguk almost immediately.

It started with the dinner. They went to a Korean barbecue restaurant and ate until they were both groaning with stomach pain. Jimin had never seen anyone eat the way Jeongguk did. He ate like the food in front of him was his last meal, but still, he gave up some meat and a few sides like kimchi to Jimin willingly as a sign of respect. He ate with a fist on the table and his brow furrowed like he was angry at the food, and Jimin just watched, endeared.

For three hours, three hours, they just sat at a little table in the corner of the restaurant (where Jimin had politely given his autograph to the excitable waitress) and talked about everything over a meal. Jimin heard stories about Jeongguk’s childhood in Busan and about the dog he loved so much that his parents took care of back home. He heard about all the sports Jeongguk tried but hated until he got into boxing. He heard tales of failed dates and learned that Jeongguk had only ever had three relationships in his life, and all of them had ended terribly. And Jimin poured some soju into shot glasses to hide the fact that he felt angry on Jeongguk’s behalf, angry that three people had chosen to do wrong by Jeongguk.

Jeongguk’s question had been simple: “Well, you’re saying that all my exes suck, but what if I’m the one who sucks?”

Jimin’s answer had been just as plain: “I don’t need to know you inside and out to know that you’re not the one who sucks.”

And then, two days later, Jimin spent the entire day at the office with Jeongguk, helping him write addresses for Save-the-Date cards. It poured down rain outside as they sat on the floor together and chatted, and Jimin finally opened up. He talked about being bullied in elementary school by the rich kids before landing his first acting gig at age eight. He talked about his favorite foods because Jeongguk teased him about not liking abalone. He told Jeongguk about his own failed relationships, about his exploratory phase when he came out as bisexual. He spoke mostly to the envelopes he was addressing when he explained the terrifying void he had felt trapped in after coming out and being abandoned by his agency, being shunned by the very system that had raised him.

“But then you did Airplane Mode,” Jeongguk then recalled while slipping a card into an envelope. “A show specifically for Netflix. After a year-long hiatus. They took a chance on you, knowing your current reputation in South Korea.”

“And it just proved that fans wanted to see me no matter what,” Jimin quietly replied.

“And you won awards,” Jeongguk added, using one foot to nudge Jimin’s knee playfully. “So who’s the real winner?”

Jimin felt like the real winner. A week later, after severals office sessions and one rambunctious lunch with Jeongguk and a client, Jimin found himself seated on the couch taking quiet notes in the corner and trying not to laugh as Jeongguk and his assistant, Yuna, navigated intake for a brand new potential client. Jeongguk had the couple in tears of laughter as he whizzed across the office in his rolling chair, pointing things out and grabbing for whatever he could find to use as an example for a Save-the-Date card or a seating chart arrangement. 

“I just feel like if you do pole fitness—” Jeongguk grabbed the white support beam that was closest to Yuna’s desk and pretended to use it as a pole for a fleeting moment, and the poor bride-to-be almost fell out of her chair. “Then we should totally bring the party to the reception. The playlist would absolutely slap.”

“He’s kidding, dear God,” Yuna added, but everyone burst out laughing, knowing full well that Jeongguk was both kidding and about to be hired, because he had this couple hook, line, and sinker.

It felt like business as usual. Jimin sought out any excuse to show up at Jeongguk’s office, and Jeongguk started texting Jimin with some of the most redundant questions until Jimin realized that Jeongguk just wanted to text him and talk to him. Namjoon and Seokjin immediately began to take the shit out of Jimin for smiling at his phone like a fool one night, because Jeongguk was in the market for fake flowers to make bouquets, and he kept sending silly pictures with the most ridiculous captions while he was out shopping.

By week three, Jimin was getting emails asking when he was returning to Korea. Namjoon was trying to finalize Jimin’s schedule, but Jimin kept insisting that he needed to stay in America until the wedding that Jeongguk had invited him to a few weeks ago. That, Jimin decided, was like a final exam. He needed to be there. He had a phone, iPad, and notebook full of detailed notes from the past three weeks of shadowing Jeongguk, and a wedding was the culmination of the experience.

“Hey—oh. Is that for me?”

“No, I’m going to drink two coffees by myself at eight o’clock at night,” Jimin said flatly, and Jeongguk snickered. He was at the office late, and he had texted Jimin saying that he wanted Jimin to come keep him company while he worked on some flower bouquets. He had a wedding on the weekend, but it was one that Jimin didn’t need to attend. 

“Thanks. I’m barely going to get any sleep in the next few days,” Jeongguk sighed, accepting the coffee. He sipped through the straw, going slightly cross-eyed as he turned to pad back to his work area. Jimin just admired him—the way he hummed as he walked, the way his body curved and moved in the dim lighting, the way he messily tucked one foot under his body to sit down cross-legged on the floor.

In the three weeks Jimin had spent with Jeongguk, he had learned all the getting-to-know-you basics. In fact, now he knew Jeongguk’s coffee order and his habit of going barefoot in his office. Sometimes Jimin would scoff at his phone and then read out an email to Jeongguk. Sometimes Jeongguk would show Jimin a random TikTok video that gave away his quirky sense of humor. The rhythm Jimin had learned was now a soothing melody.

“So, these flowers are for the wedding this weekend?” Jimin asked as he sat down on the floor. Jeongguk had so many fake flowers surrounding him that he looked like he was doing a photoshoot in a field. He had them separated by type—baby’s breath, blue hydrangeas, green myrtle, other assorted greens. There was one completed bouquet lying by Jeongguk’s side, stems wrapped in soft white silk with a piece of lace ribbon to finish off the look.

“They are,” Jeongguk said with a gentle smile. “I figured you could help me out. Is that okay? Will you help me?”

“Of course I will. How was Tigger’s visit to the vet?” Jimin asked as he settled down across from Jeongguk.

“Routine,” Jeongguk replied. “He’s pretty chill when it comes to his visits to the vet. He purrs a lot. I think he’s trying to betray me.”

“Winnie hates the vet,” Jimin sighed, and Jeongguk bit his bottom lip in a grin as he reached for some of the hydrangeas. “She behaves herself, but when I pull out her little carrier, she just knows. She climbs the curtains.”

“She what?”

“Not joking. Look.” Jimin pulled out his phone and muttered to himself, and then he showed Jeongguk a short video from three months ago of Winnie on top of the little curtain rod, squished into a fluffy ball to keep herself up there and away from Jimin because she had used the couch as a springboard. So Jimin had rescued her like a firefighter before tossing her into her carrier while she meowed and tried to claw her way out futilely. 

“It would be cool if they could meet someday,” Jeongguk said wistfully. “But traveling with animals overseas is a big deal. Okay, so. These bouquets.”

“Yes, is there a rhyme or reason to them?” Jimin wondered. “Did you make that one?”

“I did. Is it impressive? It’s the bride’s bouquet.” Jeongguk asked as he held up the bouquet. Jimin noticed that the hydrangeas were white. “I have to make eight of them in total for the bridesmaids. Eight. Can you imagine having eight bridesmaids?”

“Seeing as I’d be the groom, probably not,” Jimin said evenly, and Jeongguk immediately stifled a laugh. “Okay, so eight bouquets. That won’t take long, right?”

“Wrong.” Jeongguk blew out a breath, lips vibrating. “It takes at least ten minutes for me to make it look the way I want it to look. But I figured with another set of hands and eyes, it might be better. And these are fake flowers, which is why I’ve taken on the task.”

“Well, then show me what to do,” Jimin requested, so Jeongguk handed over the bride’s bouquet and explained how many of each flower or green he had selected and why he had arranged them a certain way. He had a picture reference on his iPad, and he demonstrated to Jimin how to tie the stems and pin the silk into place, and how to tie the little lace ribbon.

“Another baby’s breath right here.”

“Got it, just move your fingers. I’ll wiggle it in.”

“That’s what he said.”

“Did you just—?” Jimin said in shock, and Jeongguk burst out laughing, toppling over with the bouquet held up towards the ceiling in a death grip to keep it from falling apart.

“Okay, okay, focusing,” Jeongguk said as he sat up again, catching his breath and then shifting his long fingers against the stems of the flowers so that Jimin could sneak another bit of baby’s breath into the bouquet. Once it was in, Jeongguk tilted the bouquet and surveyed it with narrowed eyes. Then he held it up to Jimin’s face.

“Quick, judge it,” he insisted.

“Ten out of ten,” Jimin declared.

“Yeah? Would you walk down the aisle with a groomsman that you hated holding this?” Jeongguk asked, clutching the bouquet dramatically to his chest.

“As long as I can smack him over the head with it,” Jimin said with a nod.

“Absolutely.”

“Then yes, ten out of ten.”

“Okay. Tie me up. I mean, the bouquet. Tie the bouquet up, oh my God,” Jeongguk groaned, holding the bouquet to his face as Jimin snorted with laughter and grabbed the silk that had been cut up specifically for the bouquets. Together, they wrapped the stems of the flowers in the bouquet, and Jimin clutched it as Jeongguk bent and pinned the silk into place.

“Now the ribbon,” Jeongguk said, sounding pleased. He sat back and grabbed his coffee to take a sip as Jimin bent to reach for the lace ribbon to complete the bouquet. Jimin’s mind was racing as he twirled the ribbon around his fingers to bring it over to the bouquet.

“Can I ask you something?” Jimin said as he faced Jeongguk again. Jeongguk nodded as he held up the bouquet with care, and Jimin carefully wrapped the ribbon around the stems. He paused before he started tying the knot, glancing up to lock eyes with Jeongguk. Jeongguk tilted his head slightly to the right, peering around the flowers with round eyes as he hummed in interest.

Pretty man. Flirting. Fun. No worries.

But Jimin was so far beyond that now.

MUSIC CUE: “some people” by jasmine thompson

“Why are you single?” Jimin asked quietly as he carefully looped the ribbon to make a knot, his fingers brushing Jeongguk’s fingers. “Not to be blunt, it’s just… Well, you said that you love love. And someone like you… it just seems like…”

“I shouldn’t be single,” Jeongguk finished in a hushed voice, head still tilted to the side as he watched Jimin tie the ribbon.

“Yeah. And you’re… I mean.” Jimin let out a short laugh as Jeongguk set aside the first bouquet and immediately began reaching for more flowers to start the second one. “You’re a catch. I’ve known you for three weeks and you have everything in spades. You’re the ideal man. So why…?”

Jeongguk pursed his lips while he bunched together three hydrangeas, and as he reached for some greens, he glanced up. “It’s complicated.”

“Is it?”

“I guess not,” Jeongguk conceded almost instantly. “Maybe I’m just too picky. Or my standards are too high.”

“I doubt that,” Jimin gently replied as he offered up some more baby’s breath. “I mean, look at your job. You pour your heart and soul into these people, turn them from strangers to close confidants. You give your all to their special day that’s meant to be about love. But what about you? I mean, what do you give to yourself?”

“My friends say that I’m a hopeless romantic. They’re right,” Jeongguk said as he continued to build the bouquet, letting Jimin fiddle with some of the flowers to put them in place. “I mean, my ex-boyfriend dumped me because he was bored of me. Said that I was too romantic for him.”

“What?” Jimin’s brow furrowed. “You lied to me. You said it was because he graduated.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to admit the real reason,” Jeongguk said in a whisper, sounding guilty. Jimin immediately set his hand overtop Jeongguk’s hand that was wrapped around the bouquet, and Jeongguk paused, glancing up again. Jimin slowly cocked his head to the side, drowning in Jeongguk’s soft gaze, letting him know silently that it was okay. Jeongguk’s shoulders relaxed.

“I don’t know. I like all the romantic stuff,” Jeongguk continued, shrugging. “I like date nights and flowers and little gestures of affection and celebrating anniversaries every month and couples’ outfits and all that stuff. Nothing over the top or anything. Mostly subtle. But I just… I like sharing that kind of stuff with a partner. I like giving as much love as I receive, but… yeah. That doesn’t ever really happen. I give a lot of love, and I try to convince myself that I receive the same in return, but I usually don’t. So I end up getting hurt. Being a hopeless romantic destroys my dreams.”

“Giving a lot of love isn’t a bad thing,” Jimin said, his heart aching. “I think that’s beautiful. Anyone should be so lucky.”

“Well, maybe the right person just hasn’t come along,” Jeongguk reckoned, displaying the bouquet. “Good?”

“Looks good. Let’s wrap it.”

In silence, they wrapped the stems in the silk and tied the ribbon on—second bouquet complete. Jimin thought the conversation was over, but then Jeongguk sighed.

“I mean, I know I’ve only dated three people seriously in my lifetime, but I’ve had my fair share of flings. I just… don’t think it’s for me,” Jeongguk said, sounding defeated. “Not to be a wet blanket or anything. I just figured I don’t really need anyone at this point. So wedding planning is kind of my way to pour love into people without having to worry about how much I’m receiving in return.”

“Well, that’s a really lovely sentiment, but I wish you wouldn’t say things like that,” Jimin said in a gentle voice, handing Jeongguk another hydrangea. “A few flings and a few break-ups doesn’t mean that it’s not for you. That’s not all that you’ll get out of your life. Maybe you’re right. It’s a matter of finding the right person for you.”

“You think?”

Jeongguk’s tone was so sweet and so hopeful, but tinged with a sadness that made Jimin’s heart clench. He realized that maybe Jeongguk hearing it from Jimin meant something. Whether it was because Jimin was famous or because they had formed a friendship, Jimin couldn’t be sure.

“I do. What kind of person do you think is right for you?” Jimin asked as he reached for another piece of silk to wrap around their completed bouquet. They were getting faster now.

“Mm.” Jeongguk paused contemplatively as he held the bouquet together while Jimin wrapped the stems, and then Jeongguk pinned it into place as Jimin grabbed the lace ribbon. “Maybe… someone who makes me laugh. I like laughing with a person who I care about and who cares about me. It’s different.”

“It is.”

“And… yeah. Just someone who will treat me with kindness,” Jeongguk said in a small voice, sounding embarrassed, but he had a rapt audience. Jimin was listening attentively, enthralled. “Not someone who just wants to use me or who wants to be codependent. I… I want a really strong relationship. Two adults just figuring shit out together. But a lot of kindness. And compassion. And I just want to be able to love someone who loves me the same. I—well, I said that I have a lot of love to give. Sometimes I think maybe too much. But if someone… yeah. If someone can match that or give it back to me the same way…”

“That’s the right person.”

“That’s the right person,” Jeongguk confirmed, nodding and then chewing his bottom lip as he peered at the bouquet to check that it looked okay. He then set it aside and began to gather more flowers in silence until he had a few of them in his fist. Then he drew in a small breath through his nose as his eyes flicked up to Jimin, and Jimin’s heart stopped.

Right person.

Namjoon had always waxed poetic to Jimin about the moment he knew Taehyung was the right person for him. Only three days after meeting, he and Taehyung had slept together, and afterwards, they had been lying in bed when Taehyung had flipped Namjoon onto his stomach and started writing words on his back, making Namjoon guess what he was writing. Like two happy children playing a game. And that was when Namjoon said he had felt it—the shift. That little “a-ha!” moment where he knew that what he had with Taehyung was special.

How did you know you were in love?

I just did. You just know.

He had called it “unexplainable,” and Jimin had doubted him. But now, with Jeongguk blinking at him with pretty eyes and his heart on his sleeve as he gathered up flowers, Jimin wondered if this was his a-ha moment. Was he taking advantage of Jeongguk? Was he the celebrity Jeongguk thought he was trying to pull a fast one? Or was he just a regular guy with feelings?

“You deserve all of that,” Jimin said as Jeongguk reached for some more baby’s breath. “Someone who makes you laugh and treats you with kindness. Compassion. A strong relationship. Love.”

“Jimin-ssi…”

“I mean it,” Jimin said fiercely, because now he felt a fleeting twinge of rage. How could Jeongguk not have all of that in his life? How could he not have someone to love him until he could hardly breathe? Why was time being wasted, and why was the universe letting Jeongguk believe that he didn’t need to be drowned in unadulterated love? “You deserve it all, Jeongguk.”

Jeongguk reached for the last of the greens with a shaking hand. Jimin could see it. Resolute, he grabbed the silk, knowing that the bouquet was finished, and Jeongguk held the flowers tightly so Jimin could wrap the silk around the stems. Jeongguk grabbed some pins, and then Jimin grabbed the lace ribbon.

“You don’t give too much. All the love that you do give is beautiful and you should never think otherwise. You deserve the right person. You deserve to be loved,” Jimin said fiercely, crawling his fingers past Jeongguk’s hands so he could tie the ribbon around the bouquet. He leaned in and tied it carefully, and as he tightened the knot, he glanced up.

Jeongguk’s eyes were trained on him. His brow was slightly furrowed. It was as if he had forgotten about the bouquet in his hands. Jimin tried to breathe, but he forgot how to inhale when he saw Jeongguk’s eyes flicking down to Jimin’s lips, back up again, back down once more before he blinked in slow motion.

You just know.

Jimin used a gentle hand on the top of the bouquet and lowered it just slightly. He kept his eyes fixed on Jeongguk the entire time, because his heart was battering his ribcage, and he was terrified to make a single misstep. He wanted this moment desperately, but did Jeongguk want it all the same? And how would he know without trying?

Jimin lifted his right hand with his fingers curled. He didn’t break Jeongguk’s stare. His knuckles then brushed the soft skin of Jeongguk’s cheek, and Jeongguk’s eyes fluttered shut, even though it looked like he was trying to fight it. Jimin’s breath caught in his throat, but Jeongguk didn’t move a muscle. He just let Jimin do it, and Jimin’s heart sank immediately at the lack of response.

But just as Jimin began to pull his hand away, Jeongguk’s hand wrapped around Jimin’s wrist, stopping him dead in his tracks. His eyes slowly opened, half-lidded, and then he closed them again as he slid his hand up until his thumb brushed Jimin’s palm, moving up to then uncurl Jimin’s fingers. He used his hand to guide Jimin’s hand back towards his face, and then he pressed it to his cheek, and Jimin’s heart tumbled violently again as he saw Jeongguk’s lips part just slightly with a small breath. Jeongguk’s hand fell away from Jimin’s wrist, the flowers still clutched in the other hand lower in his lap, but Jimin was utterly mesmerized.

He used one thumb to caress Jeongguk’s cheek. He brushed his fingers down Jeongguk’s jawline and underneath his chin, and then he leaned in until his forehead was against Jeongguk’s. Neither one of them dared to speak, and Jimin was reminding himself to breathe as he felt Jeongguk lean into his touch.

This had to be his a-ha moment.

Jimin took a deep breath, trying desperately to hear Jeongguk’s heartbeat in the silence but hearing only his own, the rush of adrenaline in his veins pulsing in his ears. He tilted his head and paused, and the moment he felt Jeongguk’s lips brush his, it was like an electric shock straight to the heart, but he held steady. Jeongguk had to want this. Jimin couldn’t force it. So he waited, inhaling each of Jeongguk’s exhales, wishing, hoping.

“Oh, God,” Jeongguk whispered onto his lips, and Jimin’s world crashed around him as Jeongguk closed the gap willingly. Jimin parted his lips and kissed Jeongguk only once, lingering, soft lips on his, sparks flying that Jimin swore he could see. They both pulled apart by no more than a centimeter, Jimin desperate to gasp for air, but he didn’t get the chance. Jeongguk contemplated for two seconds, and then he moved in again. And Jimin let him.

“Jeongguk,” he breathed, out of his mind before Jeongguk’s lips were on his again. He reached between them and tossed the bouquet of flowers aside, and suddenly, they were moving. Jimin pulled Jeongguk by his shirt closer, and Jeongguk deepened the kiss, leaning in and granting Jimin access. Jimin traced Jeongguk’s bottom lip with his tongue, felt the lip ring, dove in again. Jeongguk moved both legs until he was straddling Jimin’s lap, knees braced on either side of Jimin’s thighs, and Jimin sighed into the next kiss.

It was like nothing Jimin had ever experienced before. Jeongguk kissed like he craved, but with such careful curiosity that Jimin could feel himself melting into the touch. His arm was around Jeongguk’s waist as he raked his other hand through Jeongguk’s hair, and he gasped into the next kiss when one of Jeongguk’s hands flew up to rest on his cheek, fingertips curling at the back of his neck.

This wasn’t just a single kiss followed by a few shy glances and a shrug or two. This was intentional, calculated, and everything Jimin had been yearning for since the day he had laid eyes on Jeongguk. One of Jeongguk’s hands massaged Jimin’s thigh as they kissed, his fingers gently stroking the hair at the back of Jimin’s neck, and both gestures were far more intimate than any other partner Jimin had ever kissed before. 

They were both moving frantically; Jimin could feel the urgency. It was as if they had both spent three weeks wondering what the other tasted like, knowing that the moment the dam burst, it would be nearly possible to fill back up again. Maybe this was all they would ever have. But Jimin wasn’t going to let the moment fizzle out before he had had his fill, and Jeongguk seemed hellbent on taking everything he could from Jimin.

“Sorry, sorry,” Jeongguk gasped when his lip ring tapped against Jimin’s teeth in all their haste to devour one another, but Jimin just laughed, kissing the corner of Jeongguk’s mouth, catching his breath.

“I don’t mind, I don’t mind,” he insisted breathily, and Jeongguk just nodded, looking dazed. He took Jimin’s face between his hands and kissed him firmly, thumbs brushing Jimin’s cheeks, and Jimin wrapped both hands around Jeongguk’s waist to keep him close. Jeongguk was sitting in his lap now, and Jimin wasn’t sure if Jeongguk understood exactly what he was doing to Jimin’s sanity. But it didn’t matter, not right now. Not when his tongue was in Jeongguk’s mouth and Jeongguk’s hands were sliding down beneath the collar of Jimin’s shirt. 

The kissing had started heatedly in a frenzy, mostly open-mouthed and gasping, fingers gripping fabric and hair in desperation. Now, as they both seemed to settle, Jimin felt like Jeongguk was trying to kiss every inch of his lips to leave no spot untouched. But Jimin was just as determined. As his pulse evened out despite his fluttering heart, he found himself dazedly stroking Jeongguk’s hair as he kissed along Jeongguk’s bottom lip, the other corner of his mouth, down his jaw. They slowed down. Jimin took a deep breath.

“Jimin-ssi.”

“Mm,” Jimin hummed, eyes still closed as he brushed his nose against Jeongguk’s before leaving another soft kiss on his lips.

“I’m… I didn’t… I’m sorry, I…”

“Don’t.” Jimin paused, his forehead against Jeongguk’s. “Don’t apologize.”

“It—This—It doesn’t… this doesn’t mean anything,” Jeongguk whispered, but it sounded like he was asking Jimin a question. “It isn’t—you’re not… we can’t…”

“I know. It’s okay,” Jimin whispered back, even though his heart sank into the pit of his stomach. He could hear the terror in Jeongguk’s voice, the fear laced in every syllable that he spoke. The heat of the moment was now ice cold, and the stark realization of what had just happened seemed to be hitting Jeongguk. He was sitting in Jimin’s lap. They were still tangled up in one another, breathless, kiss-bitten lips, skewed clothing, bouquets of flowers forgotten.

“I-I-I didn’t—I signed that—the NDA, I didn’t—”

“Jeongguk. It’s okay,” Jimin insisted, raking his fingers through Jeongguk’s hair with affection and then finally meeting Jeongguk’s eyes. He looked like he was halfway between bliss and confusion, eyes glassy, lips pink and slightly swollen from all the kissing. He was so effortlessly beautiful that it stole the breath from Jimin’s lungs. “It’s okay. It’s nothing. It’s fine.”

“It’s nothing,” Jeongguk breathed like he was trying to convince himself. “It’s—Right. Okay. This—it’s nothing. It can’t be—it’s nothing. Oh, fuck.”

“Jeongguk,” Jimin started, but Jeongguk suddenly scooted and shakily rose to his feet, stumbling and then running his hands down his face as he turned his back to Jimin for a moment. Jimin stood up as well, heart pounding nervously, but when Jeongguk turned back around, his eyes were shining, and he was wringing his hands together in front of him.

“I wasn’t—I wasn’t telling you all that to make you—that wasn’t—”

“Jeon Jeongguk,” JImin said firmly, and Jeongguk’s shoulders slumped. “It was just a kiss.”

“That was more than a kiss.”

“Oh, it was way more than a kiss, but it’s okay,” Jimin said lightly, but he could feel the misery already gnawing away at him. The way that he was dismissing what they had just done hurt. He had wanted it so badly. Jeongguk had wanted it, too, given the way he had kissed. But the reality check was painful.

“Okay. It’s… okay. As long as… okay,” Jeongguk said with a frantic nod, blowing out a breath. “Okay.”

“Do you want to finish up the bouquets?” Jimin gently asked, gesturing. Jeongguk blinked in confusion, and then he glanced down at the floor, at their unfinished work. He drew in a breath, contemplating, and then he shook his head.

“No. Not… not tonight. Maybe—yeah. Maybe tomorrow? Do you—will you still…? You’ll still come tomorrow, right? I…”

“Of course I’ll still come tomorrow. Kissing you doesn’t change that,” Jimin said in a would-be cheerful tone, but he was lying to himself. “If you still want me here, that is.”

“Please,” Jeongguk whispered, and Jimin nodded. “I’m… Jimin-ssi, I’m really…”

“Hyung.”

“Hmm?”

“You don’t have to be so formal,” Jimin teased, shifting his footing as he tried not to think about the fact that he’d had Jeongguk in his lap just two minutes ago. “You can use ‘hyung.’ I don’t mind.”

“Is that because you had your tongue down my throat?” Jeongguk asked in a faint voice, and Jimin let out a short laugh, one hand on his hip. Jeongguk’s smile was dazed and weak, like he was trying to ground himself in reality. “Sorry. I’m sorry. Um… yeah. Do you…? I can drive you back to your apartment.”

“It’s okay.” Jimin held up his phone after checking the time. “I told Seokjin to come by around ten o’clock. It’s five past ten. He’s probably waiting downstairs.”

“Right.” Jeongguk sniffed and nodded. “I’ll… you can come tomorrow whenever. I’ll be here.”

“I’ll come in the morning.” Jimin gathered up his bag and his nearly-empty coffee, and then he took a few steps towards Jeongguk. Jeongguk went rigid for a moment, like his life was flashing before his eyes, but Jimin could see that he was still curious, albeit terrified. With a small smile, even though his heart was breaking, Jimin pressed a quick kiss to Jeongguk’s cheek. “Goodnight, Jeongguk.”

“Goodnight, hyung,” Jeongguk replied, and Jimin glanced over his shoulder with a smile at the term. Then he pushed open the front door and ducked out of the shop into the cool night air, seeing the headlights of the car down in the parking lot where Seokjin was waiting. Jimin hurried down the stairs, but he paused before turning the corner to the car, closing his eyes and bowing his head.

Right person.

But what if it was the wrong time?

FADE OUT

Chapter Text

INT. JEONGGUK’S HOUSE – NIGHT

JEONGGUK is pacing his living room in a panic. His mind has clearly been racing for almost twenty-four hours now. He’s desperate to pick his friends’ brains over what happened with JIMIN.

Jeongguk was pacing so furiously that Tigger was just sitting on the coffee table, watching his master pace like it was a tennis match.

“Come on, come on, please answer,” Jeongguk pleaded, the phone ringing and ringing on speaker as he clutched it in one hand, the other hand on top of his head. “Fuck, come on—hyung? Hyung.”

“Yes, hello?”

“Hyung, I fucked up,” Jeongguk said hoarsely. “I—I fucked up, and I was a good boy and I waited twenty-four hours before really regretting it, and now I want just kick myself into outer space and never return.”

“Hang on, what? What happened? What—?”

“Can I come over? Please. Please, hyung. Is Hoseok home?”

“Yeah, he’s here until Monday. You can come over.”

Jeongguk didn’t even say goodbye. He hung up, stroked Tigger’s head and kissed the top of it, and then grabbed his bag and rushed out the front door, brow furrowed, head a jumbled mess.

He couldn’t remember a time in his life where he had ever felt so out of control while in the driver’s seat. It was as if he had both hands on the wheel, but someone else was hastily rearranging the road in front of him. What had happened with Jimin last night had been exactly what Jeongguk had been craving for days, an unscratchable itch that he would have scratched instantly had it been anyone else, but now he felt like a fool who had acted on impulse. There was no way for this to end well, just as there had been no proper way to alleviate the tension between them.

This morning had been torture. Jeongguk had put on a brave face, arriving at the office in hopes that his shitty night’s sleep and all his panic would evaporate when he saw Jimin. It hadn’t. Jimin had walked into the office to the sound of those damn windchimes like a dream come true, and Jeongguk’s heart had promptly sunk into the pit of his stomach. And Jimin had been nothing but sweet and cheerful and his usual upbeat self, offering lunch and everything, which only made Jeongguk think that Park Jimin was either a fantastic actor or a fantastic liar.

Maybe both.

Jeongguk pounded a heavy fist on the front door until Yoongi answered, looking concerned. Jeongguk tumbled into the house and tossed his bag aside, and then he immediately began to pace as Hoseok turned off the TV, now dealing with a new source of entertainment.

“I fucked up,” Jeongguk said again, tugging at his fingers as he paced. “I really fucked up. This is bad.”

“What happened?” Hoseok wondered.

“Obviously something happened with Jimin,” Yoongi deduced, plopping down on the couch and ruffling his soft hair as he pulled Hoseok’s legs onto his lap. “Jeongguk-ah. What happened?”

“Last night,” Jeongguk choked out. “Last night, I was making bouquets for this weekend. For the wedding. And Jimin was there, right? Of course he was there. I invited him. So he was there helping me.”

“And?” Hoseok prompted.

“I don’t know, he was asking me questions. We’ve been having all these conversations, deep conversations. More than the getting-to-know-you bullshit,” Jeongguk rambled, waving one hand. “And he—I don’t know, he said I was the ideal man, wanted to know what kind of love I give myself if I give it all to other people, all that shit.”

“Sounds like a smart man,” Yoongi chimed in when there was a fleeting pause. Jeongguk abruptly stopped pacing and gave Yoongi a pained look, so Yoongi just patted Hoseok’s shins unnecessarily and beckoned for Jeongguk to continue.

“And then he was asking what kind of person I thought was right for me, so I told him,” Jeongguk continued as instructed. “And he kept—I don’t know. He seemed really passionate about it, right? He was telling me that I deserve it, that I deserve someone who loves me and treats me well and all this stuff. The right person. And then—fuck, he just—I don’t even know how we got there. But then he just kissed me.”

“Oh, shit,” Hoseok laughed at the same time Yoongi said, “Yeah, as expected.”

“As expected?” Hoseok repeated, raising his eyebrows.

“Uh, yeah. As expected,” Yoongi repeated as Jeongguk stopped pacing and faced his friends, staring. “Sorry, you haven’t had to listen to Jeongguk giggling at his phone for three weeks because Park Jimin is texting him.”

“I don’t giggle at my phone,” Jeongguk said, but his argument was weak, because he conceded instantly. “Okay, maybe a small chuckle. Nothing more.”

“Full on giggling,” Yoongi said to Hoseok, ignoring Jeongguk completely.

“Can we get back to the kissing?” Jeongguk pleaded.

“By all means,” Hoseok said in interest, grinning. “Who initiated it? Was it nice? Is he a good kisser like he is on-screen?”

“He’s—oh, shut up,” Jeongguk complained, dramatically collapsing to the floor in a starfish position as Hoseok and Yoongi both laughed. With his arms and legs still sprawled, Jeongguk added, “I think he initiated it, but he didn’t… he didn’t force it. He got closer and was just there, right? And then my dumb ass leaned in for the kiss.”

“Same questions,” Hoseok persisted, and Jeongguk let out a loud sigh.

“It was nice, yes. And he’s a great kisser. It wasn’t like it was only one kiss. I got the whole fucking setlist. We didn’t just go for the appetizer. We had a goddamn meal. All that was missing was dessert. That’s an innuendo,” Jeongguk said to the ceiling.

“Wait, not just one kiss? Did you make out with him?” Yoongi asked with emphasis, and Jeongguk rolled his head to the left to stare at his two friends on the couch.

“How the hell could I not?”

“Okay, so you made out with a famous actor who’s known as South Korea’s Darling. Got it. Then what?” Yoongi prompted, and Jeongguk slowly closed his eyes and rolled his head back to face the ceiling.

“That was it. We just made out and I fucking panicked and was like, ‘it didn’t mean anything, right?’ Nervous laughter. The whole package. I was a moron. But he just said that yeah, it was nothing. It didn’t mean anything. No big deal.”

“Ouch,” Hoseok murmured.

“And then he came in today to do some work with me like nothing even happened,” Jeongguk finished. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

Well, how do you feel?” Yoongi asked, and Hoseok made a noise like he was going to scold his husband for such a question, but Yoongi made a few noises in response. “Nah, no, listen, don’t give me that. How he feels is important.”

“He just made out with an award-winning famous Korean actor,” Hoseok noted.

“And?”

“Oh, Jesus. Okay, sure. Let’s ask about his feelings. Jeongguk?”

Jeongguk opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling again. He appeared calm, but on the inside, he was a disaster. His mind hadn’t stopped racing since last night. He hardly slept. The anxiety was eating him alive to a point where he had no appetite and he felt like he was outside of his body. But after stripping all of that away, one thing remained.

He had feelings for Jimin.

MUSIC CUE: “fade into a dream” by léon

“I have feelings for him.”

“Say that again? Louder,” Yoongi requested.

“I have feelings for him,” Jeongguk repeated. “For Jimin. I—shit, I can’t believe this. It’s not even real. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“What do you mean, it’s not even real?” Yoongi inquired. “You have feelings for him, right? You like him. It’s that simple.”

“It’s not that simple,” Jeongguk argued. “Think of any celebrity you’ve ever really liked. Anyone. You’ve liked them from afar, right? Admired them, had a little crush on them. Whatever. That was Jimin for me. I don’t think you get it, hyung. When he came out as bisexual, it changed my entire fucking life. It was like—like, this guy that I’ve admired for so long was suddenly speaking a secret language that I already knew. But now he’s not just this person on a screen anymore. He’s a real human being.”

Hoseok hummed. “But you admiring him doesn’t mean that you can’t have feelings for him,” he gently argued.

“He’s a celebrity, hyung. Find me a situation where a regular guy dating a celebrity ends well,” Jeongguk said hollowly. “And this isn’t a normal situation, okay? This is Park Jimin we’re talking about. He’s not just some hot-shot actor who met a beautiful girl in a coffee shop. He’s kissing me. A very bisexual guy who isn’t a celebrity.”

“I feel like you’re putting too much emphasis on the celebrity aspect of it,” Yoongi suggested, but Jeongguk just bent his knees and let them fall inward until they knocked together, feet planted firmly on the floor.

“Put yourself in my shoes,” Jeongguk requested. “You’re both playing the voice of reason, but you have no idea what you’d do if you were in this situation.”

“I mean, he’s kind of right,” Hoseok muttered to Yoongi, who only hummed.

“There’s one huge, glaring problem,” Jeongguk declared. “This is all fake. He’s here for a month or two to shadow me for a character he’s playing in a show. That’s it. He’s immersed in it, he’s learning things, so obviously he’s going to spend a lot of time with me and be interested in me. And I’m going to have a crush on him. But it’s all—it’s just in the moment, you know what I mean? After this is all over, when he goes home and starts filming and does his thing, it’ll all fade. He’ll lose interest. It’s fake.”

“What if it isn’t?”

Jeongguk abruptly sat up and turned to the couch, crossing his legs and staring Yoongi down with a furrowed brow.

“Meaning what?”

“Well, what if it isn’t all fake?” Yoongi said with a shrug. “I mean, look, I’m obviously playing devil’s advocate. You’re right. I’m not in your shoes. But hear me out.”

“He looks like he’s going to be sick,” Hoseok said, adjusting his legs and regripping Yoongi’s hand, which he had in his lap.

“But what if it isn’t fake?” Yoongi said again. “If Jimin wasn’t a famous actor, would you still like him?”

“I don’t know. I can’t even entertain those kinds of hypothetical scenarios because it’s not possible,” Jeongguk said in frustration. “He’s always going to be a famous actor. I can’t escape it. So it didn’t even matter if I like him or not.”

“Yeah, but maybe he has feelings for you, too,” Hoseok pointed out. “I mean, what I’m saying is that maybe it’s just as confusing for him as it is for you. He’s the famous one, right? What do you think is going through his head? He’s supposed to just be shadowing you, and instead, he’s making out with you.”

“Okay, but he’s—the consequences are different,” Jeongguk argued. “He’s got the celebrity status thing going on. I’m just a regular guy. This isn’t even something I want to entertain.”

“Then why did you make out with him?” Yoongi wondered. “Genuine question.”

“Because I’m living and breathing, which means I’m attracted to him,” Jeongguk said, earning a chuckle from Hoseok and Yoongi. “And this will all be over in a few weeks after he goes to this wedding with me and then goes home. I’ll be just a fad, you know? That’s what crushes are. That’s basically what love is, anyways.”

“A fad?” Yoongi raised his eyebrows. “Jeongguk. Love isn’t just a fad. I mean, Jesus, I know you’re not in love with him, but come on. Don’t say that kind of thing.”

“He was asking me why I’m single, hyung,” Jeongguk said, hearing the hurt that was creeping into his voice. “The man I’ve admired and adored for years was asking me why I was single before kissing me. You think that hasn’t fucked with my head? I can’t do this, okay? Not like this. Not this way.”

“What do you mean?” Hoseok asked, confused.

“What I mean is that this isn’t how I want it to happen,” Jeongguk said in a strangled voice, suddenly feeling his eyes burn. “I don’t want to be fooled again, okay? I don’t—I don’t want someone to take advantage of me again. Of me having an open heart and wanting to—to love somebody and have someone love me. I’ve been hurt before. I’m not going to make the same mistake again.”

“Jeongguk, what if having feelings for him isn’t a mistake?” Yoongi gently said. “What if you push him away and push the opportunity for something good away because you’re scared of being hurt again?”

“I don’t know. Then so be it,” Jeongguk whispered. “I won’t do it, hyung. I’m—no. It scares me too much to even think about it. I have no idea what Jimin is to me. I don’t know how he feels. He could be faking it all for the sake of his role, for all I know. And if it ever did become something, by some fucking miracle, then that’s a long-distance secret relationship. I’m… I’m not ready for that.”

“We make it work.” Yoongi hugged Hoseok’s legs closer to him as Jeongguk lifted his head, feeling the sadness lodged in his chest like a knife, as if there was blood trickling down to add finesse to the pain. “Hoseok is gone a lot, Jeongguk. You know that. He travels for a living. Sometimes I’m out working, too. But we always make it work, even when it sucks.”

“Obviously I’d rather be home with him all the time like this,” Hoseok added. “But I still find time, you know? When I’m in the cockpit and the sky looks pretty, I think about him and how he could take great pictures. When I get to Korea, the first thing I do is call his parents so I can take them out to dinner. You just make it work. You make the effort.”

“And when he’s home, when he’s here, we make the most of it,” Yoongi added. “We have two homes. We’re apart a lot. That’s just the way it is. But we still have a rock solid relationship.”

“Okay, but you’re talking about two normal people,” Jeongguk said flatly. “Who met and dated properly and had a chance. I know I sound like a fucking downer, but honestly, there’s just… no way. I just have to get through the rest of this shadowing experience.”

“Remember how Yoongi said that you should let yourself have nice things?” Hoseok said in a rhetorical fashion. Jeongguk clicked his tongue and took a deep breath, but when he exhaled, he felt himself deflated, his lower lip trembling. He pulled it between his teeth to hide it, but it was too late. “Jeongguk-ah.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry. Shit, I know this was supposed to be a good thing for me,” Jeongguk said, his voice breaking. “But it’s like—it feels like torture. Like I’m being offered something I know I can’t have.”

“But you could.”

“No.” Jeongguk’s response was sharp enough to raise Yoongi’s eyebrows. “I’m not going to delude myself into believing that Park Jimin wants to wine and dine me and marry me and love and adore me until we’re old and grey. I’ll leave that to his biggest fans.”

“Jeongguk,” Yoongi said quietly, but Jeongguk hoisted himself to his feet and walked into the kitchen, hiding himself from view and pressing his palms to the countertop. He knew that one of them would come after him eventually, but he just waited. He kept his head bowed and closed his eyes, waiting for Yoongi to show up. But it wasn’t Yoongi.

“Jeongguk.”

“I don’t want to hear it, hyung. I’m sorry,” Jeongguk said to Hoseok, turning around and pressing his lower back to the countertop. Hoseok ruffled his fluffy hair with a small sigh, and he glanced over his shoulder first before inching closer to Jeongguk.

“Look, I get it,” he said in a low voice. “I know the way you’re feeling. I understand your logic, trust me. But maybe just… don’t rule it out. I know it’s a little weird, since he’s a celebrity and all that. But just… yeah. Never say never. You say you’re scared of it, but it could actually work for you if you’re open to it. I’m not really good at giving advice like this, but just… consider it.”

“Yeah.” Jeongguk nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Thank you, hyung. For—yeah. Not lecturing me.”

“What’s there to lecture you about? You’re a grown-ass man. Your relationships are your decision. Hyung knows that, too,” Hoseok said, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder in Yoongi’s direction. “He’s just overprotective of you and wants you to be happy, so he sees it as you sabotaging yourself.”

“I’m not sabotaging myself. I’m trying to be realistic,” Jeongguk said evenly. “Because you know I like to have my head in the clouds when it comes to this shit.”

“Yeah, I know. The hopeless romantic vibe,” Hoseok said with a soft smile, nudging Jeongguk.

“And I’m not going to let myself be a fool again,” Jeongguk stated. “I want to be fucking happy, too, but I don’t want it to be an illusion.”

“I feel your pain,” Hoseok said as he set one hand on Jeongguk’s shoulder; Jeongguk knew that was true. Before meeting Yoongi, Hoseok had told Jeongguk about his many failed relationships and one-night stands and multiple partners cheating on him because of the nature of his work. Hoseok had been treated poorly until meeting Yoongi; likewise, Yoongi hadn’t had much luck connecting with anyone until Hoseok.

Jeongguk wanted that. He craved that, and he sometimes had trouble hiding it. The hopeless romantic thing was a nice little joke, but sometimes it was a burden that Jeongguk didn’t want to bear. And now he had Park Jimin kissing him over fake flowers, a whirlwind of gentle touches, peaches and cream, and soft whispers. Jimin was kissing Jeongguk. What even made Jeongguk special enough to merit Jimin’s attention? And was he a fool for thinking that Jimin’s attention was superior to anyone else’s attention? Or was it just because he secretly and painfully yearned for Jimin to like him just as much, even though the reality was far more grim?

Maybe it was moving too quickly. It was lopsided, anyways, because Jeongguk had known Jimin for almost a decade through his acting work, whereas Jeongguk was brand new to Jimin. Only three weeks of spending time together and they were kissing like starved men, Jeongguk sitting in the lap of the actor he had watched grow up before his eyes on TV.

But weren’t whirlwind romances a thing for a reason? Wasn’t the cliché saying something like “you just know when it’s the right person”? How the hell was Jeongguk supposed to know when the other person was a celebrity who could very well be method acting for his upcoming role and using Jeongguk as a pawn?

Jeongguk had a flash-in-the-pan wedding this weekend all on his own. Jake and Wesley’s wedding was next weekend, and Jimin was invited. That meant that Jeongguk had exactly one week to work his shit out and decide what he was feeling once and for all, even if it meant ripping the Band-Aid off and breaking his own heart.

He’d done it before. He could do it again.

INT. JIMIN’S LOS ANGELES APARTMENT – MORNING

JIMIN is practicing lines from the script of the first episode of Minor Altar-cations before he attends the wedding with JEONGGUK, but NAMJOON can tell that his friend’s mind is elsewhere.

“I don’t know about this.”

“She’s your best friend. If you don’t do this for her, she’ll become suspicious. You know what Haewon is like when she’s suspicious.”

“Yah, don’t remind me. I had nightmares for weeks when she thought Eunho forgot Valentine’s Day.”

“Does this mean you think she’ll be a nightmare of a bride?”

“Shh! Don’t speak so loudly! She might hear you!” Jimin lunged and pretended to cover Namjoon’s mouth, and then he sighed and spun on one heel, the other leg lifted as he slowly arched and collapsed onto the couch, still holding the script in a rolled-up tube in one hand. He closed his eyes and tapped the script against his forehead a few times, and then he looked over at Namjoon.

“Don’t look at me, I’m just the dummy filling in,” Namjoon said as he took another bite of his breakfast, eyes flicking over to the script that he had lying on the kitchen table so he could help Jimin run lines. Seokjin was in the other room saying goodnight to Minsu over video call, since he had flown his son back to Korea before returning to Los Angeles to be with Jimin still.

“Well, the script has its charms,” Jimin said honestly. “It’s the perfect mix of romantic comedy and ominous foreshadowing. I still think that we could change a few things up at the final table read just based on what I’ve been doing here for the past month. I have a lot of inspiration.”

“Have you told him yet?”

Jimin pursed his lips and unfurled his script for the first episode. Seokjin had picked it up in Korea and returned to Los Angeles with it so that Jimin could begin to memorize his lines and practice and get a feel for things. The production schedule had been set, and filming was going to begin earlier than everyone had anticipated. They were asking for Jimin to be back on Monday morning to begin work, and Jimin needed to comply. So his flight was tonight at eleven o’clock out of LAX, which meant that he had to leave for the airport straight from the wedding.

“No. I haven’t. I’ll tell him tonight,” Jimin said, speaking to the words on the page and avoiding eye contact. He had reluctantly told Namjoon and Seokjin what had happened the other night with Jeongguk, and they had both just stared at him in disbelief before throwing their support to him. But given Jeongguk’s panicked response and his jumpy nature the day after (he had flinched whenever Jimin had so much as breathed in his direction), Jimin didn’t have much hope.

Jimin had barely slept the past few nights, mostly because every second thought in his brain was about Jeongguk. What was Jeongguk feeling? Did he realize that Jimin had a massive crush on him? Had the kissing been satisfactory? Had Jimin ruined everything and shattered the illusion by stepping over that final, controversial line?

More than anything, Jimin wanted things to not be as complicated as they were. What he craved most was to be a normal twenty-nine-year-old man taking the initiative to fan a spark into a flame with someone he was interested in without it being a fiasco. Every moment he spent with Jeongguk was a happy moment; Jimin couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so comfortable, so normal, so accepted around someone else his age who wasn’t a celebrity. Jeongguk was a fan, yes—he admitted it often. But he seemed to like Jimin beyond the celebrity status, though Jimin could never be quite sure.

There was, of course, the screaming social norm of “time.” Was a month of casual work shadowing really enough time for Jimin to feel what he was feeling? Was he just falling into his usual traps? Was Jeongguk just seeing the entire situation with stars in his eyes? And why was Jimin so fixated on it? He sounded like a broken record, and he wasn’t even saying any of it out loud. He was so obsessed with the idea that something about this was wrong, when there was absolutely nothing wrong with having feelings for Jeongguk.

Because he definitely did. He had feelings without a doubt. His stomach swooped when he saw Jeongguk now. His pulse quickened whenever they were close enough to touch. Every single one of Jeongguk’s shy little mannerisms were now a full-on addiction. Was it just intense lust? Was it only temporary? Or was this what Jimin was supposed to be feeling with the right person?

“You think he’ll be sad?” Namjoon asked, scraping some yogurt from around the edge of the bowl. “He might be expecting you to stay longer.”

“He might be sad, but I don’t really have a choice,” Jimin pointed out. “I have to be back by Monday no matter what, even though I’d rather stay here.”

“To study more for the role, or to be with Jeongguk? Because let’s be honest, the fact that they gave you even a month of preparation time is a miracle,” Namjoon stated, and he was right; usually Jimin only received time for training when it came to physically demanding roles, like Sleight of Hand. But the initial production schedule had given him some wiggle room, though everything had changed now.

“Obviously to be with Jeongguk,” Jimin murmured, trying not to feel embarrassed. “I don’t know. I just want to spend time doing something with him that isn’t about work. If this was any other damn normal situation, we’d already be dating. Hell, I’d already be telling him to let our parents meet each other. But this isn’t fucking normal, which means that we’re both tiptoeing around each other like morons and I have no idea how he feels.”

“You could just ask him.”

“It’s not that easy,” Jimin sighed, and Namjoon hummed grimly in understanding. “I mean, it could be if I wanted to ruin things. But I’m just—yeah. I’ll just go to this wedding and watch him be a superstar and go from there.”

“Sounds an awful lot like winging it,” Namjoon said, but Jimin gave him a look, so he added, “Yeah, okay. I’ll keep packing.”

Jimin blew out a breath and tossed his script onto the table on top of Namjoon’s copy, and as he walked to the shower, he began muttering his lines to himself. After he cranked the shower on, he waited for the water to turn hot and spoke to his own reflection in the mirror, watching his facial expressions as he mouthed the lines he was meant to deliver. Any passerby would think he had a screw loose somewhere, but checking himself in a mirror was crucial. Practice, practice, practice.

After showering, Jimin settled on an all-black suit, black shirt and all, knowing that it looked good with his black hair. But he took some extra time on his skincare before walking out the door, though he knew it was redundant. None of it mattered, right? It couldn’t matter. Jeongguk didn’t want it to mean anything, and Jimin understood that. It was like Taehyung said—Jeongguk may never want Jimin solely because he’s a celebrity. And there was nothing Jimin could do about that.

“Alright, let’s get—yah, look at you! It’s just a wedding, not a movie premiere,” Seokjin teased when Jimin walked out of the bedroom.

“He has a man to impress,” Namjoon said without looking up from his iPad. “Give him some encouragement.”

“Oh, my bad. Jimin, you look great,” Seokjin said, and Jimin rolled his eyes, slipping his wallet and phone into the necessary pockets and grabbing his sunglasses. “Let’s get out of here.”

The wedding ceremony, according to what Jeongguk had said, was going to be held outdoors, and the weather was beautiful. The reception would be indoors. Jimin nervously cracked his knuckles during the drive, letting Seokjin do all the talking about how Minsu was calling girls and boys in his class cute already, and that Seokjin was already prepared to be a helicopter dad.

“I’ll be around to grab you at nine o’clock,” Seokjin advised as Jimin hopped out of the car. “Do you care about your airport fit? Never mind, I’ll have Namjoon pick something for you. Go, go. Have fun.”

“Hyung.” Jimin bent his head to glance into the car before he closed the door, sunglasses slipping down his nose. He gave Seokjin a weak smile. “Thank you. Seriously.”

“Anything for you,” Seokjin said dramatically, and then he waved his hand, so Jimin shut the door and turned towards the venue, which was a beautiful clubhouse with an outdoor wedding ceremony area. There were people milling around the entrance, but Jimin wasn’t sure where to find Jeongguk. Chewing the inside of his bottom lip, he pulled out his phone and called Jeongguk’s number.

“Hello, this is Jeongguk.”

“Hey,” Jimin said, noticing that his tone immediately softened the moment Jeongguk answered in English. He was in deep. “I’m here.”

“Oh! Jimin hyung,” Jeongguk said cheerfully, sounding a bit breathless. “You’re here, that’s great. Okay, let me try to find you. Can you, uh… okay. Can you lift your right hand?”

Jimin raised his right hand up and waved it.

“Hmm. Turn in a circle? Keep your hand up. I’ll find you.”

Jimin turned in a circle, raising one eyebrow.

“Damn it. Okay, are you at the entrance? Keep your hand up. Wait, switch to the left.”

“Jeon Jeongguk—”

“Where are you?”

Jimin promptly dropped his arm to his side with a smack , and he hung up on Jeongguk and turned around. There was Jeongguk, phone pressed to his ear, shit-eating grin on his face as he stood there. Jimin’s poor heart stopped beating for a moment. Jeongguk was wearing a white button-up (barely buttoned, actually) with a pale pink suit jacket and pants, and his nails were painted a vibrant shade of mint like his hair. He also had a pink, mint, and white little silk scarf tied around his neck, so with all his piercings and jewelry, Jimin swore he was in danger of drooling.

“You’re a dick,” Jimin said, nudging Jeongguk’s shoulder. Jeongguk teetered with a grin, and then he beckoned, already turning back towards the venue. Jimin followed.

“You missed the morning mayhem, but no big deal,” Jeongguk said, and as they walked back into the venue, Jeongguk scooped up an iPad off the little side table where he had clearly just left it to find Jimin. “It’s been mostly just Jake and Wesley getting ready and the photographer running around to get the necessary shots. We’re right on schedule.”

“What’s the—oh. Look at you, all prepared,” Jimin teased, accepting the iPad from Jeongguk. Jeongguk had an entire chart with a schedule on it, multi-tiered. Wesley’s schedule, Jake’s schedule. When to be where. What being prepared looked like. Everything was down to the minute, and now Jimin was following Jeongguk, because Jeongguk was walking with purpose.

“I’m just going to go check to see if the flower girls are ready,” Jeongguk said. “Just kind of hang back and trail behind me, okay?”

“Done.” Jimin nodded, and then he followed Jeongguk down a corridor and hung back as Jeongguk politely knocked on the door and called out a few names with enthusiasm. Curious, Jimin watched as two little girls flew out into the hallway and nearly knocked Jeongguk over, and they were both shouting and blabbering in Korean—Jake’s side of the family, probably. Jeongguk just crouched and hugged his iPad to his chest, marveling at their dresses and playfully scolding them for not having the little flowers in their hair yet to complete their up-dos. Jeongguk leaned against the doorframe and spoke with a smile, encouraging someone (maybe a mother or grandmother) to have the girls ready in five minutes and on their way for photos with Jake. 

Everything was a whirlwind after that. Jeongguk ran around the venue, nearly skipped, and he barely spoke more than two words to Jimin because he was so busy socializing with everyone else, exchanging hugs, greeting grandparents, checking in on the photographer. Jimin was exhausted just watching him, but Jeongguk never once faltered. He even jumped in for a quick photo with Jake and Wesley, beaming.

He’s brilliant. He’s absolutely brilliant.

The wedding ceremony was about to begin at four o’clock on the nose. Not a second later. All of the guests were seated, the officiant was wearing thigh-high boots and looking fantastic, and the photographers were in place. The sun was shining, Jeongguk was in the corner of the outdoor ceremony area where Jimin could see him grinning, and he was calling the shots, pointing and whispering and giving people the go-ahead.

There was a wedding scene in Minor Altar-cations, because the bride, Haewon, wound up marrying Eunho, the groom, despite the calamity and chaos of the previous episodes. The ending was picture perfect, in Jimin’s opinion, because Haewon ended up in a marriage that made her question everything after making problematic decisions throughout the series and Jihoon, Jimin’s character, ended up connecting with the best man in a way that suggested more. 

So the scene before Jimin’s eyes right now, of Jake and Wesley both walking down the aisle (Jake guided by his mother, Wesley guided by his older brother), made Jimin feel things he had never felt before. He wasn’t sure he had ever been a witness to two men marrying before, and the fact that the entire wedding was planned by Jeongguk only made it that much more beautiful. The vows Jake and Wesley exchanged were heartfelt and genuine with a touch of laughter. Jimin kept stealing glances at Jeongguk, and his breath caught in his throat when he noticed that Jeongguk was clutching one hand to his heart with the other hand pressed over it, teary-eyed. He was watching Jake and Wesley exchange vows with stars and hearts in his eyes, looking like a dream himself.

Being a hopeless romantic destroys my dreams, Jeongguk had said to Jimin only a few days ago. The very thought made Jimin’s heart ache in a way he had never experienced. Because as Jeongguk used his knuckles to dab away a few tears before applauding and whistling when Jake and Wesley kissed to make it official, Jimin realized multiple things at once.

First—he was head over heels for Jeongguk. There was no mistaking it. Only one month of spending time together and Jimin was utterly enamored. If Jimin couldn’t be the one to shower Jeongguk with love and kindness for the foreseeable future, it made him feel panicked rage thinking that someone else would get that chance someday.

Second—this was the happiest he had ever seen Jeongguk. He had seen Jeongguk smiling and excitable several times during their sessions together, but never like this. He was radiant, radiant in a way that Jimin had yet to see. This was a Jeongguk who was so filled to the brim with love that he was bursting at the seams. It was beaming out of him, illuminating everyone within the vicinity—or maybe Jimin was imagining things.

Third—the agony of knowing that Jimin was going to have to walk away from Jeongguk tonight and perhaps lose what could be a good thing was too much to bear. He hated the logical part of his brain that was calmly telling him that this had to be fleeting. He had too many experiences like this that had all ended badly. At age twenty, he had dated a girl who had exposed him endlessly online at Jimin’s expense when Jimin hinted at ending things. Two of his one-night stands had turned out to be super fans on the verge of becoming stalkers. He had Namjoon threaten legal action against one man about three years ago for clinging to Jimin and then refusing to relent. 

There were, of course, fond memories of flings that Jimin had had. Not all of it was bad. But Jimin knew he had to follow the stereotypes and clichés and not treat his life like the rom-com in which he was about to star. He couldn’t have it all, no matter how much he wanted it. Sometimes things just weren’t meant to be. Right person, wrong time. The worst saying in the world.

Often, Jimin found himself embracing heartbreak and just shrugging it off, because he had to keep his composure and focus on his career. He had walked away so many times that it felt second nature, because no one had ever been worth the fuss and hassle. Then again, nothing had ever felt like this. No one had ever gripped him like Jeon Jeongguk. This was different, but Jimin couldn’t quite find the line. Everything was blurred.

While Jeongguk was ushering everyone indoors for the reception and some hors d'oeuvres, Jimin lingered, watching everyone with a small smile with his hands in his pockets. He was soaking in the scene, absorbing everything, studying guests’ movements and how they interacted with each other. 

“Excuse me?”

“Yes? Oh. Hello,” Jimin said with a small bow when he heard an unfamiliar Korean voice. It was Jake, and he had Wesley by his side, hand-in-hand. They were both glowing, and the photographer was standing off to the side waiting for them, but Jake looked excited.

“Hi. I just wanted to say that I’m a huge fan,” Jake said with enthusiasm, bowing again. He then turned to Wesley and hissed something in English with a grin on his face, and Wesley nodded in what looked like understanding. Jake turned back to Jimin. “I can’t believe you’re at my wedding. I’m really honored. Jeongguk told me you’d be here, and I’m—wow. A real celebrity watching me get married. Never thought I’d be so lucky.”

“The honor was all mine. Congratulations. The ceremony was beautiful,” Jimin said genuinely, and then he turned to Wesley. “Congratulations,” he added in English. “Beautiful wedding.”

“Oh, thanks,” Wesley said, gripping Jake’s hand tighter with a crooked grin. “That was all JK. He did all the hard work.”

“Jeongguk did all the hard work for us,” Jake confirmed in Korean with a smile. “You found a good wedding planner to shadow. I’m looking forward to your new show. Thank you for coming.” He bowed again.

“It was an honor,” Jimin reiterated, bowing back. “I’ll be at the reception for a little bit. Thank you for letting me be here.”

“Anything for Jeongguk,” Jake said, his grin widening. He bowed once more, and Wesley reached out to shake Jimin’s hand. Then they both hurried off, following the photographer with their heads bent together like two lovebirds.

Jimin slowly wandered into the reception area, which was decorated beautifully. Twinkle lights, a wall of vines with JAKE + WESLEY in neon yellow lights hung on it, an open bar already serving drinks, waitstaff walking around to serve little snacks. Jimin spotted Jeongguk over in the corner, laughing hysterically with a whole gaggle of groomsmen and bridesmaids, because there had been a mix on both sides. He had one of the flower girls clinging to his leg and the other one spinning in circles behind him.

Jeongguk was the moment.

Jimin had no idea if it was possible to fall deeper into his crush, but he was down bad. It was consuming him now; he couldn’t keep his eyes off Jeongguk. He had tunnel vision. His heart was racing just watching Jeongguk smile and laugh and tell jokes with the wedding party before turning to bow to an older woman (Jake’s mother) to answer a question. It was so ridiculous that Jimin almost laughed as he turned away and pressed his hand over his chest for a moment, and then he distracted himself by strolling over to where the seating chart assignments were. He quickly found his name at a small throwaway table in the back corner, right next to Jeongguk’s name, along with the photographer and his assistant. Just the four of them, but would Jeongguk even sit and eat?

Negative. Jake and Wesley arrived with music playing, and then they shared a first dance. Dinner was then served, and Jimin sat at the table and shared a few little laughs and small exchanges with the assistant as the photographer bent to take a few bites before running off for more pictures, because Jake and Wesley were roaming around to greet everyone. Jimin found Jeongguk chatting with the deejay and then checking in with the bartender before hurrying over to the table where Jake’s mother and Wesley’s brother were sitting, along with other family members. 

He really meant it when he said he doesn’t rest until after the wedding.

It wasn’t until the deejay started playing music to start the party up that Jimin finally caught a good glimpse of Jeongguk again. He was in a corner nodding along fervently as one of the waitstaff chatted with him, and he was shoveling down some of the hors d'oeuvres from earlier, eyes scanning the fun before him. The girl finally walked away from him, and that was when Jeongguk caught Jimin’s eye for the first time in over an hour.

Right person.

Jimin smiled softly and winked, and Jeongguk grinned in return. He looked like he was getting ready to walk over to the table, finally, but someone suddenly grabbed his arm and stopped him. Jimin exhaled deeply, trying not to feel disappointed by it and instead choosing to understand that this was Jeongguk’s job. This was his payday, and he was earning every damn cent and deserved a raise for how smoothly things had gone.

MUSIC CUE: “movie” by blake rose

The music finally slowed down as a collective “aw-w-w-w” echoed throughout the room, followed by joint laughter. But then everyone began to pair off, finding someone to share a dance with, some small friend groups gathering and huddling together in a group hug to sway with one another. That was when Jimin resolutely stood up, his palms pressed to the table. It was half past eight o’clock now, which meant that Seokjin would be here soon to whisk Jimin away for a long flight back home to Korea. 

He was out of time.

Jimin scanned the room until his eyes fell on Jeongguk. Like he was moving through a dream, Jimin scooted around a few bystanders and skirted around a table, and then he approached Jeongguk in the dim lighting of the reception hall. 

“Hey,” Jeongguk whispered, his eyes still trained on the dance floor. It only took one glance for Jimin to realize that Jeongguk had a look of longing in his eyes as he watched different couples and groups sway to the love song.

“Jeongguk.”

“Hmm.” Jeongguk finally tore his eyes away and stared at Jimin.

“Come dance with me,” Jimin requested, offering his hand. Jeongguk’s eyes flicked down to Jimin’s outstretched hand, and he blinked at it. Didn’t take it. Determined, Jimin cautiously reached forward until he could slide his hand into Jeongguk’s, and then he squeezed. “Please. Just one dance.”

Jeongguk looked startled, but he nodded with his lips pursed. “Okay. Yeah, just—just one. I… I have to…”

“Jeongguk, the guests are having a blast. You can relax for a minute,” Jimin encouraged. “Right? One dance.”

“Okay,” Jeongguk whispered, and then he watched Jimin in a daze as Jimin backed up with a small smile, pulling Jeongguk onto the edge of the dance floor away from the rest of the crowd, since everyone was huddling more towards the middle. Jimin slipped his left arm around Jeongguk’s waist and took Jeongguk’s left hand in his right hand. Jeongguk swallowed visibly and then draped his right arm over Jimin’s shoulder in a casual position, which brought Jimin closer to him.

“You’ve done so well,” Jimin praised as they swayed back and forth. “This was a dream. The entire wedding was beautiful, Jeongguk. You’re amazing.”

“It was beautiful. Everyone did so well. Jake and Wesley are really happy,” Jeongguk said, instantly turning the praise away from himself and spotlighting everyone else. Jimin gave his hand a quick squeeze.

“Take some credit,” Jimin suggested. “This was all your doing. Everything went off without a hitch. You had it down to a science. Watching you do your job at an actual wedding was… I can’t even describe it. You were pure magic, Jeongguk. I’m… yeah. Not to be dramatic, but I’m in awe.”

“It’s just my job,” Jeongguk softly said, even though his ears were visibly pink from the praise. “But… But thank you. That means a lot coming from you. I-I know I didn’t—I didn’t really—I wasn’t a very good mentor tonight, I was really—”

“You were doing your job,” Jimin repeated with a smile. “You didn’t have to be in mentor mode. I learned so much just by watching you. My entire flight home, I’m going to just write down notes and all the things I can remember.”

“Flight home?”

Jimin took a deep breath, and then he drew himself closer to Jeongguk until they had to switch dancing positions. Jimin draped his arms around Jeongguk’s shoulders, and Jeongguk hesitated before finally putting his arms around Jimin’s waist, murmuring “sorry” and “excuse me” like it mattered. Jimin felt like he was engulfed in flames from head to toe from the touch, anyways.

“Yeah. The production schedule was changed. It just happened, and I have no control over it. Which means that they need me there on Monday for a table read and notes and to get started.”

“So—So…” Jeongguk’s brow furrowed, and Jimin could feel him deflating slightly.

“So my flight home is tonight,” Jimin whispered loudly enough for Jeongguk to hear. “I’m.. yeah. Seokjin is picking me up at nine o’clock and taking me right to the airport. I have to leave. I didn’t get a chance to tell you until right now. I’m so sorry, Jeongguk.”

“What? No. Don’t apologize,” Jeongguk said, rapidly shaking his head. “No, no, it’s… I’m just… wow. I wasn’t expecting…”

“You weren’t expecting me to leave so suddenly,” Jimin said in a hushed voice, and he couldn’t help it—he lifted one of his hands off Jeongguk’s shoulder and gently stroked the hair on the nape of Jeongguk’s neck. “I’m sorry, Jeongguk. I didn’t know until yesterday. I wanted to stay longer, but…”

They continued to sway back and forth to the music, but Jimin suddenly forgot that there was an entire wedding reception happening around them. It was Jeongguk and him and nobody else; the world around didn’t exist outside of their small bubble. There were so many words that Jimin wasn’t saying, and he could see in Jeongguk’s expression that he was hesitating, swallowing down sentiments before they passed his lips.

“Then I guess I should say goodbye now,” Jeongguk said with a small smile. “Right?”

“Well, it doesn’t have to be now. You can wait until I actually have to leave,” Jimin suggested, but Jeongguk shook his head.

“I can’t,” he whispered. “I can’t walk you out or anything. I-I have to stay here, you know? For the… yeah. So I should say goodbye now.”

“If you’d like,” Jimin agreed, feeling the affection in his gaze despite the crackings forming in his heart. He ached. This was a feeling he hadn’t experienced in a long time, possibly ever.

“Well, I guess… I’m not really prepared,” Jeongguk said with a small laugh as the song changed to one final slow song. “This is like asking me to do wedding vows at the drop of a hat.”

“Wedding vows? Slow down, Jeon, we just met each other,” Jimin teased, and Jeongguk rolled his eyes, blushing.

“Look, I’m just… grateful. I mean, I have to thank my friend for even emailing you. But thank you for… for picking me,” Jeongguk said in a gentle tone that made Jimin’s heat melt. “You probably had a ton of other choices, but you picked me, which means… I don’t know. Hyung said it’s because I stood out somehow. I don’t really know how. But thank you for coming all this way and—sorry, I’m not very good at this.”

“You’re doing well,” Jimin commended, noticing the way that Jeongguk perked up immediately at the praise.

“I’ve always really—really admired you, you know? So getting to be the one you shadow for a role… yeah. This entire month has been the greatest month of my life. Getting to meet you and… getting to know you,” Jeongguk added with a hint of shy hesitation, but when Jimin used a few fingers to adjust the silk scarf around Jeongguk’s neck, he straightened up and continued. “You’re not a difficult person to please, as it turns out.”

“Or maybe you were just exactly what I was looking for,” Jimin offered as Jeongguk’s nose scrunched in what had to be embarrassment. He probably wanted to run away and escape, but they were locked in a semi-embrace, still dancing. “I was scared, Jeongguk. That shadowing you would shatter the illusion. And I—I was scared that maybe I was… overstepping. Or—shit, I don’t know. You’re better at this than I am, actually.”

“I’m horrible at it,” Jeongguk whispered. “I don’t do well with goodbyes.”

“Neither do I,” Jimin admitted. “So maybe… maybe let’s just say goodbye only for now.”

“And agree that it was fun while it lasted,” Jeongguk said, sounding like he instantly regretted it. But Jimin could see the hurt in his eyes, and he could feel it in his own eyes. Quiet resignation. “What I mean is—well, it’s good to have these kinds of—uh, spontaneous things in life. You know? These moments. Or—you get what I’m saying.”

“I get it,” Jimin agreed with a small nod. “Thank you for teaching me so much. I hit the jackpot finding you. Every single day we spent together was amazing. Just promise me you’ll watch the show when it airs, okay? I’m going to try to incorporate as much of what I learned from you as possible.”

“Okay,” Jeongguk whispered, ears still pink. “I…”

There was a pause between them. They stopped swaying to the music. Jimin wanted to drag Jeongguk to a quiet corner and hash it out, admit all his feelings no matter the cost. Jeongguk looked conflicted, like he wasn’t sure how to say goodbye. So Jimin leaned in and embraced Jeongguk as they stood still, his nose pressed into the hollow of Jeongguk’s neck just under his scarf, one hand cradling the back of his head. He felt Jeongguk’s head drop onto his shoulder as his arms tightened around Jimin’s waist.

“Can I kiss you goodbye?” Jimin whispered in Jeongguk’s ear, one hand still on the back of his head. He felt Jeongguk nod on his shoulder, so as Jimin pulled back, he made sure to leave three gentle kisses along Jeongguk’s cheek before finding his lips. He meant for it to be a short, sweet kiss, but Jeongguk deepened it and pressed Jimin to his chest, so Jimin accepted. The sense of urgency from that first night was gone, replaced now with a bittersweet adagio that seemed rooted in mutual understanding—it was over. The moment was over. When the kiss ended, they would part, and that would be it.

Jimin tried to save the taste of Jeongguk’s lips, all his gentle touches, the little breaths between kisses, soft skin, the scent of vanilla. All things that were distinctively Jeongguk. Jimin held his breath before the moment ended, studying Jeongguk closely. The little scar on his left cheek. The eyebrow piercing, the sparkling stud in his nose, the lip ring. Long eyelashes, a nose that fit his face perfectly, eyes that held supernovas, how his hair fell perfectly with what looked like minimal effort. 

Jimin had never even studied a lover like this before, and Jeongguk was about to become nothing more than a fleeting extra on the set of a movie.

“Goodbye, Jeongguk,” Jimin whispered, but then he tightened his grip on Jeongguk. “Please don’t be a stranger. Promise me.”

“I’ll try my best,” Jeongguk breathed.

“I’ll text you from my Korean number, not my burner phone. So you’ll have my real number.”

“I can do terrible things with that.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Jimin whispered, his heart aching as a small, sad smile crept onto his lips. “Take care of yourself. Don’t get sick.”

“You can’t get sick, either. Goodbye, hyung.”

Walking away from Jeongguk then became the hardest thing Jimin had done in his life in a long time. He stepped back and kept his hands on Jeongguk for as long as possible, going as far as to cling to his fingertips before finally losing contact. Right on cue, he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket, probably Seokjin. He walked backwards, eyes still trained on Jeongguk, and Jeongguk didn’t move. He only slipped his hands into his pockets and watched Jimin with shining eyes.

How can this be wrong?

When Jimin finally pivoted to duck out of the reception hall, the next breath he took felt eerily similar to his heart hollowing out to an empty cavern. The mere fact that each step he took only increased the heartache and regret convinced him that what he was feeling for Jeongguk couldn’t possibly be wrong. He wasn’t losing his mind. This was real. It was real and he wasn’t taking a once-in-a-lifetime chance because he couldn’t shake the feeling that the obstacles would be too grand to overcome.

For weeks, Jimin had been trying to quietly convince himself that this was just a silly crush, that it happened all the time when he started a new show or movie, that it would fade. But Jeongguk was so brilliant and such a dream come true that Jimin was starting to understand that “silly” was the wrong word for the crush he had. “Serious” was more appropriate.

“Yah, you don’t even look like you partied that hard,” Namjoon said from the passenger seat the moment Jimin hopped into the backseat of the car. Seokjin glanced at Jimin in the rearview mirror, and then he quietly said Namjoon’s name. Namjoon hummed, and then he turned around. “Oh. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Jimin said tersely, buckling his seatbelt and avoiding eye contact. “Can we just get going?”

“Did it not go well?” Namjoon asked with all the caution in the world. Jimin pursed his lips as Seokjin began to drive.

“It went fine. But I don’t really want to talk about it anymore,” he said, his voice fading to nothing more than a whisper. He saw Namjoon and Seokjin exchange a glance, but then Namjoon quietly handed Jimin a bag.

“Your outfit,” he said. “Do you want to—?”

“I’ll change here.”

Namjoon nodded as Seokjin immediately pulled over into a corner of the parking lot where it was dark. Jimin rustled around, changing out of his suit and slipping into a more comfortable outfit, using a wipe for his face to remove any make-up and shoving a baseball cap on his head. And then Seokjin took off, the car silent for the drive to LAX.

Jimin often had to emulate heartbreak. But he had never felt it like this before.

INT. ON SET OF MINOR ALTAR-CATIONS IN SEOUL – DAY

JIMIN is doing what he does best, finally fulfilling his role as Jihoon. It’s clear and intentional that he is utilizing everything he learned during his time in Los Angeles.

“Quiet, please… action!”

Jimin took a deep breath and pivoted, gesturing grandly to the easel that bore an empty seating chart. There were two cameras pointed at him and one camera pointed at Bora, since she was sitting on the armchair with her legs crossed, looking wide-eyed and bewildered.

“How much do you know about Eunho’s family?” Jimin asked, twirling the marker between his fingers and promptly dropping it. He flinched, and then he quietly cleared his throat and first tried to cross his arms awkwardly before setting his hands on his hips, and then he used a thumbnail to scratch his nose.

“Ah, I know plenty,” Bora responded, perking up. “Did you know that his grandmother once had a fling with a famous politician back in the day?”

Jimin quickly bent and snatched up the marker. “Is that relevant to our seating chart?”

Bora’s face fell. “No.”

“This is strictly business, Haewon-ah,” Jimin said as he began to pace with his brow furrowed. He paused, and then he glanced over one shoulder to the side, where Bora was sitting. “Was it scandalous?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Bora said melodramatically before lifting the paper up to cover the grin on her face.

“CUT!”

“Ah!” Jimin groaned, covering his face with his hands and arching backwards slightly before circling himself. Bora relaxed with a laugh as the director clapped her hands a few times and someone came forward to touch up Jimin’s make-up. “I was supposed to look cool twirling the marker, and I failed.”

“What do you mean? That was completely in character,” Bora argued, leaning forward to carefully clamp her lips around the straw of a drink she was being offered while a stylist adjusted her bangs with care.

“It was unscripted and brilliant. Come watch the take when you’re ready. You’ll like it,” the director said specifically to Jimin. Jimin nodded, and then he quietly strolled over to monitor, watching with narrowed eyes.

“I prefer this take over the previous two,” the director said. “This was more like Jihoon's character.”

“As long as you’re satisfied with it. I was—anyways. I was mimicking my mentor,” Jimin admitted outright, because there was no point in hiding it. The dialogue for this scene had been re-written a few times with Jimin’s input, and the moment that marker had hit the ground, Jimin had had an instant flashback to Jeongguk dropping the marker in exactly the same scenario. The way he had awkwardly fumbled it but still maintained his cool, the way he had continued to do his job as if nothing had happened.

“I’m happy. Set for the next scene!” the director called out. Jimin nodded and walked over to where Namjoon was lounging on his phone, taking a quick peek at the shot list for the day and checking his lines one last time before heading back over to where he needed to be. Last scene for the day. He was running out of stamina.

Pre-production had gone brilliantly. The first table reads had been nothing more than flawless, with Jimin grinning ear-to-ear and telling tales of his adventures with Jeongguk while the screenwriters took hasty notes for dialogue moments. It wasn’t often that showrunners were as flexible as they were for Minor Altar-cations, but they seemed to be relying heavily on Jimin’s experiences, and Jimin was delivering in spades.

Jimin’s work for the day ended around three o’clock in the afternoon, which was miraculous. Tomorrow would be a twelve-hour day of shooting, but today was short, sweet, and to the point. It had been two weeks since Jimin had returned to Seoul, and it had been full speed ahead the moment he had touched down.

“THANK YOU FOR YOUR HARD WORK!”

“GOOD JOB, EVERYONE! THANK YOU!”

“THANK YOU, THANK YOU!”

In a flurry of shouting and bowing, the cast and crew wrapped for the day and separated. Jimin exchanged a hug with Bora, and then he walked off the set with Namjoon by his side, right to where Seokjin was waiting with the car. Jimin managed to lift his hand and wave to several fans who were spectating outside the shop where they had been filming, knowing that there were cameras around to capture his every move. He ducked into the car and ripped his mask off with a sigh.

“Hyung, scale of one to ten, how happy would you be to stop and grab some sushi for me on the way home?” Jimin tiredly asked Seokjin.

“Really interesting that you’d say that.” Seokjin smacked Namjoon’s thigh so that Namjoon had to move his leg, and then Seokjin lifted a plastic bag.

“You fucking legend,” Jimin said with a laugh, accepting the bag of sushi and holding it in his lap happily. He would need the sushi, anyways, to fuel himself and find the courage to do what he was about to do.

For two weeks, he hadn’t stopped thinking about Jeongguk. His brain was utterly consumed, and there was a small hole in his heart that he could feel when he breathed. He had confessed to Taehyung that he felt like a fool, but Taehyung had just patted Jimin’s cheek lovingly and told him to “pull it together and call the man.” So now, Jimin was about to contact Jeongguk after two weeks of radio silence.

Jimin entered his apartment and immediately snatched Winnie up to cuddle her in his lap as he scarfed down some sushi. Winnie kept trying to head-butt him and stick her nose into the sushi, but Jimin just swatted her away and scolded her lovingly.

“Okay, now will you stay with me?” he asked Winnie after brushing his teeth. “I need emotional support, okay? And maybe if he sees you, he’ll… I don’t know. Just stay with me, baby, okay?”

Winnie promptly flopped onto the floor at Jimin’s feet and rolled, meowing and reaching out until her short claws caught in the top of Jimin’s slippers. Jimin bent and scooped her up with one arm and carried her to the couch, and then he settled in with his phone clutched in the other hand.

Just do it.

His heart pounding, Jimin opened up a next text conversation. It was nearly bedtime in California, but surely Jeongguk would still be awake.

JIMIN [03:35:22PM]

JK, it’s Jimin! Are you around right now? I was wondering if I could call you.

JEON JEONGGUK [03:37:03PM]

Hyung! How are you? Just a regular call, or video call?

JIMIN [03:38:24PM]

Ah lolololol I didn’t think about that. A video call!

JEON JEONGGUK [03:39:19PM]

Give me 5 minutes!

Jimin blew out a breath. Jeongguk’s text tone sounded okay, not that Jimin was great at analyzing someone else’s words. But he had answered right away and was okay with a video call. Immediately, Jimin lifted a hand and fixed his hair.

“Like it fucking matters,” he murmured to himself with a short laugh, keeping his eye on the clock. It was painstaking, but he waited six minutes just to be safe. Then, with his heart in his throat, he video called Jeongguk.

“Oh. Is it working? Hyung?”

“Hey, Jeongguk,” Jimin said softly, his heart swooping. There was Jeongguk, wearing a baggy black t-shirt with all his tattoos on display (Jimin had never really seen them completely exposed, so he was startled), and his mint hair wasn’t styled, just casually hanging in his eyes. He looked so young and comfy sitting on his couch, and Jimin’s heart ached. Two weeks hadn’t made the crush evaporate. Now, seeing Jeongguk again, it was back in full force.

“How have you been?” Jeongguk asked politely. “I wasn’t expecting you to get in touch.”

“Oh?” Jimin felt the corners of his mouth turn up in a small smile, and he could see the way his eyes were fixed on Jeongguk on the screen. He was an utter fool for this video call, but it was already satisfying his craving. “I would have gotten in touch sooner, but I’ve been really busy. We started filming.”

“Already? Wow. That was really fast,” Jeongguk said in a hushed voice. Jimin could see one of his arms moving, and Jeongguk noticed, always perceptive. With a grin, Jeongguk tilted the phone slightly downward. There was an orange tabby cat curled up in his lap. “Tigger.”

Jimin returned the grin and tilted his phone downward. “Winnie.”

“Ah, the famous Winnie!” Jeongguk said happily. “Even more beautiful on video than she is in Instagram photos. What a star.”

“She’d rather claw my eyes out right now,” Jimin joked. “How has everything been for you?”

“Oh. It’s been good. Busy,” Jeongguk said as he readjusted his phone. “Um, I have another wedding this weekend, and tomorrow, I have to meet the bride and groom for a seating chart session.”

“Oh, the couple is going to assist this time?” Jimin asked in a teasing tone. Jeongguk smiled.

“Mind-blowing when that happens,” he joked back. “Has, um… has your training with me been—well, it’s not like—it wasn’t really training, but has—?”

“The time that I spent with you learning about your job has changed the entire show,” Jimin said without hesitation, and he watched as Jeongguk pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes averting. “I gave so much input during the table reads that they were making notes while we were rehearsing.”

“Really?”

“Really. I can’t thank you enough,” Jimin said. “I just—yeah. I wish you were here to see it. If you were in Seoul, I’d bring you onto the set so you could see it all happen. I could even get you to make a cameo appearance.”

“Oh.” Jeongguk laughed nervously. “That—wow. That would be—wow. That’s… I can’t even imagine that.”

“Well, if you ever come to Seoul while I’m filming, you can come to the set,” Jimin declared, because picturing it in his head made him giddy. “Look, Jeongguk, I don’t… want to take up a lot of your time. I know we’re not—it’s not like we’re best friends or anything, so…” Jimin took a deep breath. “Sorry. I’m horrible at this. I shouldn’t be, but it’s—you make me nervous, I don’t know.”

Jeongguk made a noise of confusion, tilting his head like a puppy dog with round eyes full of curiosity. Jimin wanted to reach through the phone and snatch Jeongguk up and kiss him silly, wrap him up in an embrace and promise him the world, beg Jeongguk to give him a chance, ask if Jeongguk would let Jimin be the one to love him.

Baby steps.

MUSIC CUE: “how” by elina

“I was wondering…” Jimin drew in another breath and slowly exhaled. “I want to come back to California the first chance I get. Maybe in a month or two. I—I want to see you again, Jeongguk. I… I was hoping maybe I could come back to Los Angeles and take you on a date. A real date. Not… yeah.”

“Ah.” Jeongguk’s brow furrowed in worry, his eyes shining as they searched his lap. Jimin’s heart immediately sank, but it wasn’t like he had been expecting Jeongguk to leap at the opportunity. So instead of begging or rambling in an attempt to convince Jeongguk, Jimin just sat quietly, hands clammy as he clutched his phone.

“It’s okay,” he said quietly, dismissively. Jeongguk looked up with haste.

“Hyung,” he said in a choked voice. “I…” He visibly swallowed. “Hyung, I was… oh, God. This is bad. I’m so sorry. Oh, no.”

“Jeongguk—”

“No, it’s just—” Jeongguk rapidly rubbed his face with one hand. “I should have said something before you left. I should have said more. We should have talked properly. We—We should have talked after that night, hyung, and we didn’t.”

“That night.” Jimin sighed quietly. “You’re right. We didn’t talk. We should have.”

“After… After that night, you… you said it didn’t mean anything,” Jeongguk said in a voice barely above a whisper. “That it was nothing. But then… but then at the wedding…”

“I asked you to kiss me goodbye,” Jimin said in a pained voice, suddenly hating himself. Jeongguk stammered.

“No, no, no, no,” he said as he waved one hand. “No, hyung, no. Don’t misunderstand me. That—That wasn’t—I was okay with that. I wanted that. I wanted to kiss you goodbye. What I was saying is that at the wedding, I… I should have talked to you then. I guess I thought that I’d get a chance after the wedding, but then I found out you were going to be leaving, so that idea was shot to hell.”

“Well, I’m here now,” Jimin said gently, though his heart was a sunken stone in the bottom of his ribcage. Jeongguk looked conflicted, like he was searching the screen for the right words to say.

“Do you remember how I told you that I always end up getting hurt?” Jeongguk said tentatively, and Jimin wanted to jump in and silence him. He wanted to take over the conversation and explain everything, but he bit his tongue. Jeongguk needed to speak. So Jimin just nodded. “I… I like romance. I told you that, too. But all this… hyung, all of this scares me. It scares me too much.”

“I understand that,” Jimin agreed, and it was genuine, even though his heart was shrieking in pain. Why was this so difficult for him to hear? Why was it so heartbreaking to watch Jeongguk struggle to find the words to explain what Jimin knew he was trying to say?

“When everything happened that night when we were doing the flowers, I—I panicked,” Jeongguk confessed. “Because that was exactly what scared me. I-I-I didn’t know what to do. I… Hyung, I wanted all of that. I wanted to be close to you like that and kiss you and be with you that way. But…”

Jimin didn’t want to have to listen beyond that. Jeongguk admitting that he wanted everything Jimin had wanted in that moment was cathartic. But it was coming far too late.

“I do this all the time,” Jeongguk said, squeezing his eyes shut tightly for a moment. When he opened them, he looked dazed. “I get too caught up in all the romance and the fairytale shit, and I forget to consider what the reality would be. And hyung, you… you came to meet me just to study my career and learn a little bit before you started filming. It was—It was exciting, and new, and all these things that I wasn’t really…”

“I wasn’t expecting it, either,” Jimin quietly said, and Jeongguk nodded. “And I do it, too. Every time I jump into a new role, I always end up—I don’t know. Falling for my co-star or something. And then I slap myself and snap out of it. It’s like I’m just…”

“Looking for something,” Jeongguk filled in, and Jimin nodded. “That’s what I was afraid of. Hyung, I… fuck, this is so difficult. Um… hyung, I don’t… want to be used for a temporary fairytale. Do you get what I mean? I don’t… the thing is, we’re around the same age and we’re obviously attracted to each other,” Jeongguk said as he blushed, and Jimin managed a weak smile. “But you’re in that mindset right now, you know?”

“The wedding planner mindset.”

“Right. You’re focused on this role and this new show and it’s exciting and an adrenaline rush and you’re involved in it completely. And I’m the wedding planner you studied. That makes me exciting, too. And I can’t… I can’t risk that. I can’t—I always make myself too vulnerable, hyung, and then I get hurt. I end up heartbroken every single time. It’s always on me. I can’t risk it again. I don’t want to be a fad. I don’t want to be a temporary interest that you—like, pour into until you’re done filming the show, and then… and then you lose interest.”

“Jeongguk, that wouldn’t happen,” Jimin said weakly, and he knew it. Jeongguk could hear it in his voice, too, because he just stared at Jimin with a sad shine to his eyes.

“I can’t take that risk,” Jeongguk whispered again, and even though Jimin’s heart was already shattered, he nodded. Because hadn’t he been telling himself the same thing for weeks? “Not again. Not like this. I’m… I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. Please… Please don’t hate me. Please.”

“Jeongguk, I could never hate you,” Jimin said in a strained voice. “Never. Don’t say that. You don’t have to be sorry. I’m… I’m sorry. I’m sorry that it came to this. That I made you feel like…I don’t know. I really don’t know. I overstepped. I didn’t mean to make you feel vulnerable or scared.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Jeongguk softly said. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Neither did I. But you understand what I’m saying, don’t you?”

“Yeah. I get it. It’s just…” Jimin clicked his tongue, panicking when he felt a lump forming in his throat. Don’t you dare get emotional. Don’t you fucking dare. Not now. What is wrong with you? You’ve been let down easily by other people in the past. Why is this any different? “It just makes me feel really sad.”

“I’m sorry,” Jeongguk whispered, and Jimin saw him draw Tigger closer to his chest for comfort. Jimin instinctively did the same with Winnie. “I’m sorry, hyung. But it’s… it’s not just that. I don’t think I could handle it, either. The… Everything. Everything that would come with—it’s just—you’re… famous. You’re a celebrity.”

“Yeah. That part I’m used to,” Jimin said with a wry smile. “It’s okay, Jeongguk. You don’t have to apologize for that.”

“I just don’t think I could ever be prepared for that or what it could mean,” Jeongguk whispered. “And that’s on top of everything else. Please, I’m so sorry, hyung, I—”

“Jeongguk, enough.” Jimin shook his head. “Really. I’ve been sad before. I can be sad again. Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’ll just be temporary. I don’t know. Maybe neither one of us can take that kind of risk right now. And you… yeah. You just said you wouldn’t want that life, anyways. And I understand that. It’s not for everyone. I can’t fault you for that.”

“Hyung…”

“Jeongguk.” Jimin took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “It’s okay. I promise you.”

“I’m so sorry if I ruined your show,” Jeongguk whispered.

“What? How could you ruin it? Jeongguk, this doesn’t change the experience that I had. I’m carrying every single thing you taught me into every single day of shooting. You haven’t ruined anything,” Jimin promised. “It was a silly question for me to ask you, anyways.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“It kind of was,” Jimin said, trying to deflect the heartbreak as much as possible so that he didn’t have to confront or embrace it. “But listen, if… if you ever… the offer stands. To take you on a date. Okay?”

“Okay,” Jeongguk whispered with a small nod, pursing his lips.

“It was really good to see you again, Jeongguk,” Jimin said softly, hearing the sadness in his voice. So to cover it, he forced a smile. “I hope we can meet again someday. Let me know when you’re in Korea, okay?”

“I will.” Jeongguk chewed his bottom lip momentarily. “I will.”

“Take care of yourself, okay?” Jimin requested. “And you have my number. You can get in touch with me any time.”

“Okay. Take care, hyung. I… Thanks for calling,” Jeongguk said. “Good luck with filming.”

“Thank you. Goodnight, Jeongguk. Sleep well.”

“Thanks, hyung.”

There was a pause that felt infinite as Jimin reminded himself to breathe. He lifted a hand and waved, and Jeongguk returned the wave. Jimin then had to hang up first, because otherwise, he would have sat and stared at Jeongguk for hours. The moment the call ended, Jimin threw his phone to the other side of the couch.

He hadn’t cried for himself in years. But Jimin curled up on his side with Winnie against his chest and sobbed until he had nothing left to give.

FADE OUT

Chapter Text

INT. MAN WITH A PLAN WEDDINGS – DAY

Some time has passed since the night of the wedding. JUNGKOOK is distracted at work. Minor Altar-cations premieres tonight, and he’s chewing on his straw, which he’s using as a replacement for the pen he chewed on earlier.

“Are you okay?”

“Hmm? Yeah.” Jeongguk stopped chewing the straw of his iced coffee and blinked a few times to clear his bleary eyes as he focused on Yuna. She was hovering in front of his desk with a concerned look on her face, handbag secured on one shoulder, phone in the other hand, keys hanging from her fingers by the keychain.

“Now say that without lying,” Yuna requested, and Jeongguk set his empty cup down with a sigh. He had drained the coffee about two hours ago. The straw chewing was just a good distraction while he dragged his feet through creating a budget spreadsheet. It was closing in on six o’clock, though, which meant Yuna was leaving.

“I’m okay,” Jeongguk said as he vigorously rubbed his face with both hands, knowing he sounded half-hearted at best. “Just okay.”

“You’ve been out of whack all day,” Yuna noted. “All my usual jokes went right over your head. I at least get a laugh out of you on most days, but today was just… nothing. And I know I’m hilarious.”

Jeongguk finally cracked a smile, pushing his chair back slightly.

“Sorry. Bad brain day. I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah. See you tomorrow,” Yuna said gently, turning to leave. She slowed down as Jeongguk watched, and then she pivoted. “Actually, can I ask you something? At the risk of being a bit too, uh…”

“Go ahead.”

“That show.” Yuna adjusted her bag on her shoulder. “The one Park Jimin was here for. Minor Altar-cations. It premieres tonight in Korea.”

“Yeah. That’s why,” Jeongguk said in a dismissive fashion, trying not to sound cold. Yuna pursed her lips and nodded, knowing not to press any further. She was young, but she was intuitive.

“Goodnight,” she said with a kind smile, and then she walked out the door as the wind chimes sounded overhead.

Jeongguk pressed his tongue into his cheek, ankles crossed, and then he stared at the door until his vision blurred. It was the end of September now. Jimin had walked through those very doors about eight months ago. He had left Los Angeles about six months ago. And Jeongguk hadn’t heard from him since that video call in March.

That was a semi-lie. He had heard small peeps here and there before it had tapered off, and Jeongguk knew it was all his fault. Jeongguk had texted Jimin from Patrick and Kayla’s wedding about the seating chart, to which Jimin had responded with laughter and well wishes. Jimin had then texted about a month later asking what happened to Anna, and Jeongguk had responded with the story of how Anna found out her fiancé was cheating on her, and how the wedding was called off completely. But that text exchange happened in July. 

The most painful text had been on the first day of September, because Jimin had remembered. He had texted a simple “happy birthday, JK!” that had broken Jeongguk’s heart because he had sent it with some emojis and then a GIF of Pikachu putting on a party hat. But since then, Jeongguk hadn’t heard from Jimin at all.

He was a busy man. That was what Jeongguk kept swearing. Of course he didn’t have time to text Jeongguk. At least, that was what Jeongguk told himself so that he could sleep at night. He felt foolish, checking Jimin’s social media accounts like he was going to see something exciting, but he couldn’t help it. He had just let it die, after all. Jeongguk had been pretty clear in the video call that taking it any further with Jimin was not an option, that that was not a life that Jeongguk could handle, that he didn’t want to fall into any traps.

Even though it cut deeply, Jeongguk still remained confident that his concerns were valid. With how quickly he and Jimin had drifted back into their own lives after their time together, Jeongguk was sure that trying to concoct some kind of long distance relationship would have been something doomed from the start. He didn’t want to be “that guy” sabotaging himself or taking away his own potential happiness, but he had to remain realistic. Jimin was a celebrity—period. Jeongguk could not live out his fleeting fantasies or dwell in what could be.

And that was exactly how he found himself at Yoongi and Hoseok’s house the night of the premiere.

“What do you mean you’re not going to watch?”

“Exactly that.” Jeongguk slurped up some ramen dramatically, humming in approval as he shoved some kimchi into his mouth. With one fist propped on the table, he nodded at the quality of his food as Hoseok stared him down. Yoongi was standing in the kitchen frying up some pork belly, but his upper body was twisted so he could listen.

“He told you to watch the show,” Hoseok pointed out. He had just gotten home from a week of flying, so he was in comfortable sweatpants and a t-shirt, but his suitcase was still by the door. Jeongguk almost scowled thinking about how Yoongi had probably greeted his husband with a hug and a kiss and the promise of a hot meal. But he definitely wasn’t pitying himself.

Maybe just a little. 

“Yeah, but I told you everything about the video call,” Jeongguk said, knowing that it had been months since that call but banking on Yoongi and Hoseok remembering.

“Jeongguk, the man said he felt sad that you friend-zoned him,” Yoongi said bluntly as he flipped over a piece of pork belly, the sizzling noise like music to Jeongguk’s ears. “I don’t really know how much fucking clearer he could have been.”

“That doesn’t mean that I was emotionally prepared to consider—no, fuck it. We’ve already had this conversation,” Jeongguk said crankily. “And it didn’t lead anywhere. And besides, you both—” He lifted his chopsticks and clicked them together as he gestured between Hoseok and Yoongi— “said that you understood my point of view.”

“He looks like an angry baby crab,” Yoongi commented to Hoseok casually.

“Lobster?” Hoseok suggested. Jeongguk picked up the plastic cap of the soju and hurled it into the kitchen, where it hit Yoongi square on the ass and fell to the floor with a clatter.

“Okay, yeah. We understood your point of view,” Yoongi agreed, disregarding the attack. “But you should have dropped it back in March if that was the end of it.”

“But now you’re going to ditch the show and sulk,” Hoseok added. “Instead of watching it and enjoying all nine episodes and seeing how much you influenced Jimin’s performance.”

“The man showed up to a wedding and asked you to dance and kissed you goodnight,” Yoongi said as he shuffled into the dining area and offered up a pan of sizzling pork belly. Jeongguk snatched up a piece before Yoongi had even settled the pan onto the table. “And he asked to take you on a date.” Yoongi plopped into his chair. “And you rejected him.”

“For a reason,” Jeongguk emphasized, frustrated.

“And it was valid,” Hoseok promised as Yoongi hummed and nodded, already eating. “Neither of us ever denied that. It’s highly likely that you could’ve just become the flavor of the week. Only interesting for the moment, you know? We get it.”

“But he texted you on your birthday,” Yoongi pointed out. “If he was hellbent on losing your number or ditching you, Gguk-ah, he would have done it. But he texted you at midnight on your birthday. Which means he—”

“I know what it means,” Jeongguk said, launching himself sideways until he could flop dramatically onto the table with one arm overhead. 

“Not on the kimchi,” Hoseok bemoaned.

“It means that he was thinking of me and watching the clock,” Jeongguk grumbled into the wooden tabletop. “God damn it.”

“So, will you watch the show?” Yoongi asked, always the one to drive the point home.

“No.”

“Christ,” Hoseok said as Yoongi snorted into his noodles, half of them hanging out of his mouth before he slurped them up.

“I need you both to watch it for me.”

Hoseok and Yoongi stopped jesting the moment they heard Jeongguk’s tone of voice. Yoongi politely shoved some kimchi into his mouth and reached for a napkin as Hoseok clicked his tongue and sat back, crossing one leg over the other while reaching for his drink. Jeongguk picked himself up off the table and propped his head in his hand.

“I need you both to watch each episode,” Jeongguk requested in a small voice. “Every week. Please. Promise me you’ll watch it. And then just… tell me if it’s okay.”

“You’re worried it might make you look bad,” Hoseok guessed. Jeongguk contemplated quietly, pushing his tongue against the back of his teeth. Then he sighed.

“In a way,” he admitted. “Or that… I don’t know. Or that it will all have been for nothing. Or that… yeah. It’s not a huge deal. I just have a lot of fear about it. And I don’t know how hard it will be to watch him on a brand new show now that I’ve…”

“Been two seconds away from dating him,” Yoongi supplied, and Jeongguk nodded. “Alright. Well, then Hoseok and I will watch it every week. We won’t spoil it, but we’ll let you know if it’s worth watching, okay?”

“Please,” Jeongguk whispered, and then he glanced at his phone. “I should get home for Tigger. I think he needs food.”

“Are you using your cat as an excuse to ditch us before the show starts?” Hoseok asked, and even though Jeongguk was glum, the comment helped lighten the mood. He cracked a small smile, but he shoved his chair back regardless.

“I am. Any objections?” Jeongguk asked, and he heard none. “Okay. Love you both.”

Yoongi and Hoseok returned the sentiment. Jeongguk scooped up his keys and shoved his shoes on, and then he rushed out the door and into his car.

“Fuck,” he said the moment he was in a vacuum of silence, draped both arms on the top of the steering wheel and resting his forehead against his wrists. The silence made his ears ring for a moment, but his racing mind was plenty noisy. His thoughts were all conflicting, and none of it made sense. 

First of all, he knew now that his feelings for Jimin hadn’t faded over time like he had expected and hoped for. They were still lingering and showed no signs of letting up, and it was maddening. It was worse than a one-sided infatuation with a celebrity because this had been reciprocated. It hadn’t just been Jeongguk fan-boying and daydreaming scenarios before bed. It had been Park Jimin holding Jeongguk in his lap while they kissed like the world was ending tomorrow and telling Jeongguk that he deserved to be loved. It had been Jimin asking Jeongguk to slow dance with him at a wedding and kissing him goodbye and then getting choked up over a video call when the inevitable end had come.

But the end had to happen. It wasn’t something that Jeongguk could have avoided. He wanted to believe that he could have, but he couldn’t imagine a scenario in which he had agreed to going on that date and then pursuing a long-distance relationship while Jimin was in the middle of filming a show that was generating so much online buzz that Jeongguk had muted a dozen words on social media. Neither of them had been in the headspace to act on a little crush. 

But were they now?

“Oh, shut up,” Jeongguk said out loud to himself, starting the engine and then driving home with one hand tangled in his blonde hair. He had changed it up a week ago to be a muted blonde with his natural black as the undercut, easy to change to another color if he so desired. And in the interest of spooky season coming up, his fingernails had spiderwebs on them.

Tigger greeted Jeongguk happily when Jeongguk opened the front door, flopping on top of Jeongguk’s socked feet and stretching, requesting belly rubs. Jeongguk bent and obliged, and then he made a beeline for the couch.

“What do you think, Tigger?” he asked as Tigger leapt up onto the coffee table and perched to stare at Jeongguk like a statue. “No dramas for us tonight. We should watch…”

Jeongguk scrolled and scrolled, nearly folded in half in a slouched position with one leg on the coffee table, and then he paused.

I’m a glutton for punishment, I guess.

“…Yeah. Okay. Let’s do this shit.”

And then he pressed PLAY on The Notebook for the dozenth time and grabbed one of his throw pillows to hug, knowing that the tissues were close by when he knew he would need them.

INT. JEONGGUK’S HOUSE – MORNING

Summer has faded into autumn, and JEONGGUK has waited many painstaking weeks. He’s lying in bed trying to get some sleep, but his phone starts buzzing.

It took all of Jeongguk’s courage to text Jimin on the thirteenth of October to wish him a happy birthday, mostly because he was terrified that Jimin would ask if he had watched Minor Altar-cations. But to his surprise, Jimin responded with enthusiastic thanks and some emojis, and Jeongguk just stared at the response and couldn’t think of anything to say in return.

It was such a convoluted kind of heartbreak. Jeongguk’s break-ups hadn’t ever made him ache this much. But with Jimin, it was as if he was staring at a missed opportunity that he could grab again at any given moment, and it was eating away at him.

But nine weeks passed. They passed at an agonizing pace and Jeongguk busied himself with work, but suddenly, it was the middle of November, and Minor Altar-cations was airing its final episode.

Jeongguk was going to watch the show now.

Every single week, like clockwork, Yoongi and Hoseok had kicked down the figurative door of the chat they had with Jeongguk to say all the same things— the first episode had us laughing out loud. You have to watch this show, Jeongguk. Episode 3 was so good, the menu tasting scene was hilarious. JK, this show is fucking unreal. Come on, you have to watch it. Hoseok says he thinks it’s Jimin’s best work, even more than Sleight of Hand. That’s saying something.

They were singing the show’s praises, and they weren’t the only ones. Social media was exploding with praise for it. The world was abuzz with chatter about wedding planners and plot twists and dark family drama. Jimin’s brand reputation was soaring. And Jeongguk’s text messages were filled with Yoongi and Hoseok begging him in desperation to watch the show, saying that they were laughing, crying, theorizing, and that they could see Jeongguk in every single episode.

“What now?” Jeongguk murmured. It was Friday night, and he was already lying in bed, exhausted from a full day at work. To his relief, he had nothing planned for Saturday and Sunday, which hardly ever happened. Jeongguk opened the text message:

TINY HYUNG WITH A CAMERA [11:03:21PM]

We just watched the finale of the show

TINY HYUNG WITH A CAMERA [11:03:56PM]

10/10 absolutely fucking phenomenal

TINY HYUNG WITH A CAMERA [11:04:23PM]

Jimin’s going to win every award available for this one

THIS IS YOUR CAPTAIN SPEAKING [11:05:10PM]

Hyung cried he just won’t admit it

TINY HYUNG WITH A CAMERA [11:05:34PM]

For a good reason, I’ll admit it

THIS IS YOUR CAPTAIN SPEAKING [11:06:27PM]

Jeongguk, please tell us you’re going to watch it this weekend

JEONGGUK [11:07:03PM]

I’m starting it tomorrow and I don’t want any commentary from the peanut gallery

THIS IS YOUR CAPTAIN SPEAKING [11:07:47PM]

I’m allergic to peanuts, so that’s fine

TINY HYUNG WITH A CAMERA [11:08:17PM]

Always wonder how you eat the snacks on a plane

JEONGGUK [11:09:03PM]

I read that as snakes on a plane

JEONGGUK [11:09:46PM]

Anyways, I’m watching it tomorrow. Now leave me alone to die.

JEONGGUK [11:10:03PM]

Until 9am tomorrow morning.

TINY HYUNG WITH A CAMERA [11:10:15PM]

The drama

Jeongguk promptly threw his phone and curled up in a ball, reaching over to drag Tigger into his arms as a makeshift teddy bear. Tigger wiggled and meowed in protest, but then he accepted his fate and found a comfortable position as Jeongguk sighed into his pillow.

He woke up at nine o’clock, just as he had said. After making coffee and munching on a banana while padding around the house in pajamas, he made an executive decision to park himself on the couch with a blanket and turn on the TV.

“This is going to be a bad, bad decision,” he said to Tigger as Tigger hopped up onto the coffee table again. He meowed and blinked, and then he launched himself at the water bottle on the edge of the coffee table and swatted it towards the kitchen. “You fucking demon,” Jeongguk murmured, and then he added, “NOPE!” as he snatched Tigger up in mid-air like something out of a cartoon, preventing him from leaping for the water bottle to play with it. “Yeah, meow hiss to you, too. Quiet down.”

Jeongguk plopped back onto the couch with Tigger in his lap, his coffee cooling down on the end table to his right. Once he was satisfied with how he had tucked himself into his Spider-Man blanket, he took a deep breath and opened up his streaming service until he found Minor Altar-cations. The rating was high. Park Jimin was the first name listed in the cast. Jeongguk’s vision blurred as he stared while the preview trailer of the show played, unable to believe that the man he was watching on the screen in short clips was the same man who had ridden shotgun in his car just a few months ago. 

The trailer ended, so Jeongguk read the description of the show: Yoo Jihoon plans weddings for happy couples in love, daydreaming about marrying his best friend, Haewon. When Haewon asks Jihoon to plan her wedding to another man, Jihoon covers his own feelings and uncovers the sad, dark truth about the marriage and family secrets.

“I’m going to regret this,” Jeongguk murmured, but then he clicked PLAY SEASON 1, EPISODE 1 and braced himself.

The first episode was exactly what the first episode of a show was meant to be—introducing characters. Setting up the plot. Creating foreshadowing and a bit of tension. But it was the comedy that had Jeongguk absolutely spellbound. Jihoon, as a character, was melodramatic behind closed doors about Haewon friendzoning him for years, but the scene where Haewon asked Jihoon to be her wedding planner had Jeongguk giggling into his coffee. Jimin’s acting for such a character was dead-on, encompassing the drive for perfection that came with wedding planning and the desire to help others while also highlighting his own lackluster love life. The overcompensation. The forced happiness for others. The fabrication of relationship dreams that were unreachable.

It made Jeongguk ache as he watched the final scenes of the first episode, mostly because the last scenes took place at Jihoon’s office. And his little office space was modern with white walls and windchimes over the front door and a lot of plants.

“That’s my office,” Jeongguk whispered, his heart skipping. “That’s… He…”

The episode ended tensely with Eunho, Haewon’s new fiancé, getting a mysterious text message. Jeongguk had never reached for the remote so quickly to get to the next episode. He downright flailed, so much that Tigger meowed and leapt away.

“Shh, quiet, it’s episode two,” Jeongguk hissed, waving his hand at his own cat and curling back up.

MUSIC CUE: “hopeless romantic (acoustic version)” by sam fischer

One of the first scenes in the episode was between Jimin’s character and Haewon. Haewon was seated cross-legged in an armchair, looking eager, and Jimin was standing in front of an easel with an empty seating chart. Jeongguk launched himself forward and nearly fell over his coffee table as he watched in amazement.

“How much do you know about Eunho’s family?” Jimin asked, and he twirled a marker between his fingers only once before dropping it. There was a comical silence as he considered picking it up, but then he coughed and failed to cross his arms in a cool fashion before placing his hands on his hips. It was so unlike Jimin and so much like Jeongguk that it was jarring. Jeongguk felt his heart lurch.

“Ah, I know plenty,” Haewon answered. “Did you know that his grandmother once had a fling with a famous politician back in the day?”

Jimin froze, but then he bent and snatched up the marker. “Is that relevant to our seating chart?”

“No.”

“This is strictly business, Haewon-ah,” Jimin replied as he began to pace back and forth. Jeongguk watched, enraptured. Jimin then paused and glanced at Haewon. “Was it scandalous?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Haewon said melodramatically before lifting a piece of paper up to cover her smile.

But the scene didn’t stop there. Jeongguk was nearly bent over the coffee table as Jimin chattered on and on in an impressive feat of rambling dialogue that surely delighted audiences, and by the time he finished weaving a tale about Eunho’s superficial family drama and how family members couldn’t possibly sit with other another, Haewon sat there, stunned.

“How do you know all this?” Haewon asked, bewildered.

“I’m a magnet for gossip,” Jimin said.

“That’s—!” Jeongguk banged his knee on the coffee table and winced, but then he wrapped the blanket around himself like a cape, utterly flabbergasted. “That’s my line. I—I said that to you. I said that to you,” he said to Jimin, even though Jimin was scribbling names on a seating chart as the scene continued. Jeongguk contemplated, but then he knelt on his coffee table and sat back on his heels like a little kid, blanket secured, and he watched the rest of episode two just like that.

He didn’t stop. He binged episode three, where Jihoon took Haewon to a cake tasting and Eunho didn’t show up, so he stepped in to pretend he was the groom. Episode four, where Jeongguk sat on the edge of his coffee table with tears trickling down his cheeks because Jimin delivered a heartbreaking scene where Jihoon sat and cried with a friend, talking about how he poured all of his love and care into his clients and never received, and when would it be his turn to experience love? 

Then Jeongguk paced his living room while eating instant ramen as episode five played, because the drama and scandal heated up. He found himself talking to the television like the characters were going to answer him, asking them ridiculous questions. And for the majority of episode six, Jeongguk hugged his knees to his chest with tissues clutched in his fists, because Jihoon kept doing things that were so quintessentially Jeongguk, ripped directly from the time Jimin had spent in Los Angeles, that it was making him emotional.

Jihoon’s character wanted to fall in love with someone who he could laugh with happily. He wanted all the cheesy, romantic things in life. He wanted to be swept off his feet. He said that he had so much love to give away but received so little in return, and that pining after Haewon felt a lot like hopelessness. And all of that was interwoven with an intricate plot about dark family secrets that, by episode six, made Jihoon question the best friend he thought he knew. Suddenly, Jihoon was thinking about warning Eunho against the marriage.

“Fucking hell,” Jeongguk croaked, dabbing his eyes as the credits rolled. He sniffed and grabbed his phone to check his face in the camera, and then he laughed out loud. The combination of the ramen and the crying had made his face so puffy that it was comical. But there was no time for shame. Episode seven was meant to be a banger.

Jeongguk didn’t move from the couch until close to five o’clock. He neglected going to the bathroom until he was ready to explode. He ran out of tissues after the end of episode seven and cursed, but then he decided it was time to be a human being, so he washed his face and threw on some clothes and took his bike down to the closest store to grab some more, as well as taking a detour for some dinner.

Episode eight was a rollercoaster of emotions that had Jeongguk biting on his thumbnail until he was quietly cussing because he had scraped off his nail polish. But episode nine was an absolute catastrophe. It was the grand finale, the wedding, and Jeongguk silently cried his way through it, because Jimin was just so good.

“Hyung, put your hand up,” Jimin’s voice said as Jihoon on-screen over the phone as the character Wooyoung, the best man, stood in the parking lot of what had to be the wedding venue, carrying several bags with a phone pressed to his ear. “I’ll come find you.”

“Can you see me?” Wooyoung asked.

“Mm… Wait, turn in a circle.”

Wooyoung turned in a circle.

“Sorry, can you put your other hand up?”

“ Aish. ” Wooyoung shifted all of his stuff and fumbled some shoes onto the ground, but he grunted and readjusted the phone while putting up his other hand. “How about now?”

“Ah, can you wave?”

Wooyoung waved his hand. “Yah, Yoo Jihoon, what—?”

“Where are you?”

Wooyoung’s face fell into a scowl as he turned around, and there was Jimin as Jihoon, wearing a powder blue suit and looking dapper, phone pressed to his ear.

“You’re really unbelievable,” Wooyoung complained as Jihoon laughed, reaching out to grab some of Wooyoung’s belongings. But Jeongguk, in the comfort of his own home, was clutching his little remote, on the verge of being a snotty mess as tears dripped onto his blanket.

“I did that to you,” Jeongguk whispered, his voice trembling. “I-I did that. You… oh, God.”

His tears didn’t subside. By the time the wedding ceremony was happening and Jeongguk caught his first glimpse of Wooyoung stealing glances of Jihoon while Jihoon stood off to the side with shining eyes, he was on the verge of a breakdown. But during the reception, when Wooyoung walked up to Jihoon and asked him to dance, Jeongguk burst into tears. He had to pause the show and double over, head hanging, because it was far too much to bear. 

He was head over heels for Jimin.

There was no skating around it anymore. His feelings were rearing their ugly head and roaring. Every frame of Minor Altar-cations proved without a doubt that Jimin had soaked up every single second of his time in Los Angeles with Jeongguk, and he had applied absolutely everything as he had promised. He had taken Jeongguk’s life and put it on the screen for the world to see, disguised behind a tale of a broken family full of secrets and dark comedy with flecks of sweet romance. And he was paying homage to and honoring Jeongguk as a regular human being in the form of a character on a show. Despite being at the top of his game, despite being famous beyond the scope of imaginable, despite all the odds, Jimin seemed to have taken a liking to Jeongguk, an ordinary wedding planner with a cat at home . 

Jeongguk was the epitome of the overused “bawling my eyes out” phrase by the time the credits rolled. He sniffed and blew his nose before adding the tissue to the mountain of used tissues on the couch beside him, watching names of cast and crew scroll slowly. But then, towards the end of the credits, he saw something that made his heart stop:

Special thanks to:

Jeon Jeongguk

+

Man With a Plan Weddings

That was his final straw. It was past midnight now, but Jeongguk’s hands were shaking so violently that he fumbled his phone twice and had to type in his passcode because it seemed his phone didn’t recognize his face in such a state. And then, without even stopping to consider the consequences of his actions, he texted:

JEONGGUK [12:35:52AM]

Jimin-ssi, this is Jeon Jeongguk

JEONGGUK [12:36:37AM]

I’m sorry to bother you. I know it’s been weeks. I’m so sorry.

JEONGGUK [12:37:03AM]

I just wanted to say that I binge-watched the show and you were absolutely amazing

JEONGGUK [12:37:48AM]

I cried every episode like a baby. I even had to go buy more tissues.

JEONGGUK [12:39:02AM]

Ah, I don’t know why I’m telling you all this after so long, I’m sorry

JEONGGUK [12:39:52AM]

It’s just that I saw how much of my influence was in the show and how much you used from your studying with me and it made me really emotional and it made me think a lot

JEONGGUK [12:40:20AM]

About you

JEONGGUK [12:40:38AM]

I sound like an idiot I’m so sorry hyung

JEONGGUK [12:41:05AM]

I just miss you so much, my heart hurts

JEONGGUK [12:41:45AM]

I really like you a lot and I thought the feelings would go away but they haven’t

JEONGGUK [12:42:04AM]

I really like you so much, what do I do???? 

JEONGGUK [12:42:36AM]

I know it’s been a long time, but do you still want to go on a date??????

Jeongguk then dropped his phone into his lap and stared at the screen, holding his hands up like he had just committed a crime. He blinked at the lines of text messages he had just sent, and then he clenched his jaw and closed his eyes.

You fucking moron.

He had just spam texted a fucking celebrity. The most famous actor in South Korea now had a slew of foolish, lovesick text messages from some irrelevant wedding planner living in Los Angeles that he barely talked to anymore. Jeongguk had half a mind to get up and drain the remaining bottles of soju he had in his fridge, because he had just flat-out admitted over text message that he liked and missed Jimin.

Jeongguk left his phone. He didn’t even bother to bring it with him to his bedroom, because he was so humiliated and he couldn’t take his text messages back. They were just sitting on Jimin’s phone now, thousands and thousands of miles away, and he couldn’t do anything about it.

“Tigger? Come on,” he croaked, rubbing his puffy eyes. “Come on, let’s just… sleep.”

Tigger seemed to understand that the situation was dire. He only meowed and brushed up against Jeongguk’s leg, and then he sat on top of the toilet and monitored Jeongguk’s nighttime routine of skincare and brushing his teeth. He then agreed to be hugged as Jeongguk slept, exhausted from crying half of the day.

Jeongguk, I could never hate you.

But now Jeongguk was on the brink of hating himself for what he had done, and as he drifted off, he feared Jimin was slipping between his fingers when he had never had Jimin to hold in the first place.

In the morning, Jeongguk’s phone was void of text messages when he woke up, the one thing he had dreaded the most. It was low on battery from being neglected, but that hardly mattered. What mattered to him was that he had sent all those text messages to Jimin, and Jimin hadn’t responded. And now Jeongguk was spiraling the drain, feeling utterly foolish.

So he threw himself into a decent Sunday routine. He showered and dressed and went straight to the gym for a long boxing session, because heaven knew he needed to punch something other than being tempted to right-hook his own reflection in the mirror. He went to lunch with a few of the guys from the gym post-training. He pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up and dropped into the store for a few groceries. He did everything except think about the show he had just binge-watched yesterday, knowing that if he sat still for more than a few minutes, he would be doomed.

Jeongguk had been afraid of regret. But now regret seemed to be his closest friend, and he was one breath away from resigning to his fate of being the token hopeless romantic.

EXT. JEONGGUK’S HOUSE – EVENING

JEONGGUK is inside his home alone on a Sunday night, still feeling down about the radio silence after sending exactly one dozen text messages.

“It’s this one.”

“You’re sure?”

“He said yellow siding, red shutters.” Jimin glanced up from his phone and looked out the window at the little house. The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in watercolor. And Seokjin was behind the wheel of the rental car, following very careful directions that Jimin had provided. 

“Okay, well, this looks about right,” Seokjin agreed, and Jimin took a deep breath. It was a small little house with a nice front lawn and pretty flowers lining the front walkway, and the door was red with a little white fence for the front porch. There was one car parked in the narrow driveway, and Jimin recognized it right away. The house was quaint and so definitively Jeon Jeongguk that it made Jimin want to cry in pure joy.

“I don’t know if you’ll need to pick me up.” Jimin took a second deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. “I’ll… yeah. I’ll call if it’s disastrous.”

“I doubt it.” Seokjin rested his elbow on the center console. “Those text messages came from a man just as stupid as you are.”

“Rude,” Jimin grumbled, but Seokjin just chuckled.

“Good luck.”

Jimin hopped out of the car and inhaled the chilly November evening air of Los Angeles—Pasadena, to be specific. Yesterday, he had received a slew of consecutive text messages from Jeongguk, and each one had been more progressively heartbreaking. But then the last text had come through, and Jimin had promptly called Namjoon over, citing an emergency. Poor Namjoon had tumbled into Jimin’s apartment expecting a fire, but he had just found Jimin crying on the couch. Jimin had then quietly demanded to be taken to the airport right away so he could get on the 7:30 PM flight to Los Angeles. 

At first, Namjoon had refused. Your schedule is packed, Jimin-ah. But Jimin, still crying, had begged Namjoon. This might be my only chance. You have to let me go. And then Namjoon had begun to consider it. He had checked Jimin’s schedule, twisting his face in concern. When he had looked up at Jimin with “no” on the tip of his tongue, Jimin had choked on a few more tears before delivering his killing line.

I could fall in love with him, hyung.

Namjoon had then immediately canceled, postponed, and rescheduled all of Jimin’s activities for the next two weeks, drawing the line at activities right before Christmas. Jimin had agreed to return for his scheduled events, telling Namjoon to chalk up his disappearance to a personal emergency.

And now he was standing on Jeongguk’s doorstep.

Just knock, you idiot. He’s home. His car is in the driveway. It’s Sunday evening. Just knock. He won’t reject you. He texted you, right? And you got on a plane so you could come take him on a date. Just knock. Do it.

Jimin inhaled deeply through his nose and exhaled out his mouth, and then he lifted a shaking hand, formed it into a fist, and knocked on the door.

“Huh?”

Jimin almost burst into tears of relief at the confused sound Jeongguk made from the other side of the door. He was right there, probably bewildered by the fact that someone was knocking on his door at dinnertime on a Sunday. It was unlikely that anyone ever came knocking, because the neighborhood was rather quiet. Nevertheless, Jimin heard the creak of floorboards and a soft meow from a cat, and then the door opened.

It was the cliché of suddenly feeling breathless the moment Jimin laid eyes on Jeongguk. His hair was different, blonde with a black undercut now. He was wearing nothing more than black sweatpants and an oversized white t-shirt, his feet and his face both bare, and the look on his face was what could only be described as stunned. Jimin wrung one hand in the other low by his hips and took a deep breath.

“Hi,” he said, fighting the urge to laugh nervously. 

“What…?” Jeongguk tilted his head quickly like an attentive puppy dog, gripping the doorframe and checking the street as if the answer to why Jimin was standing at his doorstep was driving by. Then he stepped back and white-knuckled the edge of the door. “Why… Why are you…? What…?”

“I got your text message. So I thought I’d stop by to answer it,” Jimin said, feeling silly as he shifted his footing. He saw Jeongguk visibly swallow, his brow furrowing.

“D-Did you just… Did you just rom-com me?” he asked in a faint voice, and Jimin let out a laugh, slipping his hands into his pockets, relieved when he realized that Jeongguk was not going to immediately turn him away.

“Rom-com you?” he repeated.

“I texted you some of the dumbest shit I’ve ever texted anyone, and you—did you get on a plane and fly here to answer my text message?” Jeongguk said in disbelief. “Like a fucking rom-com movie?”

“That depends. Do I get bonus points if so?” Jimin asked in a teasing tone, and finally, Jeongguk’s shoulders dropped from his ears, though his brow remained furrowed. “Answering you over text wasn’t good enough, Jeongguk. I didn’t want to miss my chance. You texted me, and I got on the seven-thirty flight straight here. I’m not wasting time.”

“How did you even—I never told you where—you’re at my house,” Jeongguk stammered. “How are you at my house?”

“Well, you see, back in January, your friend emailed my manager,” Jimin began, and Jeongguk’s face finally flushed with color again as Jimin grinned. “So I got back in touch with him and might have begged for your address, but he was nice enough to agree to give it to me. Would you like to hear another touch of irony?”

“Sure, why not?” Jeongguk whispered faintly.

“His husband was the pilot of my flight,” Jimin said, his grin widening. “And he knew why I was coming here, because when I got off the plane, he shook my hand and told me to, and I quote, ‘give Jeongguk a good smack so he can have some sense.’”

“I hate them both,” Jeongguk said flatly, and then he took a deep breath. He blinked a few times, expression confused as he locked eyes with Jimin again. “But don’t you… Minor Altar-cations just ended. You have a schedule. Interviews, media and press things, and I’m…”

“I canceled and rescheduled everything for two weeks,” Jimin stated, and Jeongguk’s eyes widened. “On the spot.”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“Probably,” Jimin laughed, and then he glanced down and almost cooed. “Oh, oh, is this…?”

“Cat,” Jeongguk said so bluntly that Jimin snorted with laughter. “Cat, I have a cat. Right. This—” Jeongguk bent and scooped up an orange tabby cat, and then he held it out in front of Jimin robotically. It was such a natural comedic delivery that Jimin almost cried. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so enamored by anyone in his life. “This is Tigger.”

“Does he like humans?” Jimin asked, and Jeongguk nodded.

“Um, do you want to come in?” he asked shyly.

“If that’s okay,” Jimin agreed, but then Jeongguk retracted Tigger and seemed to panic as he dropped the cat to the floor and turned his head wildly.

“Oh no,” he hissed to himself. “I wasn’t—It’s not clean.”

“Well, I would hope not, seeing as you’re a human being,” Jimin said to dismiss Jeongguk’s worries. Jeongguk hummed with a small frown, and then he let out a small whimper of disapproval and momentarily turned to rest his forehead against the wall in agony as Jimin tried and failed to suppress a smile. He then blew out a breath and stepped back, so Jimin cautiously stepped inside and used a gentle hand to close the door behind him. The moment he closed the door, he had a cat brushing up against his leg, so he briefly bent and stroked Tigger’s soft fur as Tigger arched into his touch. 

“Mhm, see, I know how to pet a cat,” Jimin joked, hearing Tigger meow. Then he straightened up, because Jeongguk was watching him in a daze. Jimin slipped his hands into his pockets again, his heartbeat quickening, head tilted as he waited for Jeongguk to speak.

MUSIC CUE: “nothing else matters (piano version)” by gabrielle aplin

“You… You really… you,” Jeongguk finally emphasized, and then he lifted a hand and vaguely gestured over his shoulder. “I—I watched your show. I watched it all in a day. You…”

“Everything in that show was you, Jeongguk,” Jimin said immediately, feeling breathless but relieved that he could finally pour his affection into Jeongguk in some way. “ Everything . They changed parts of the script. They let me create an entirely new characterization. You changed the show . And yes. Me, too.”

“You too?”

“I missed you the second I got on the plane to go back to Korea in March,” Jimin declared openly, because he had nothing to lose. This was truly his rom-com confession moment. It was now or never. “I like you a lot, too. My feelings haven’t gone away, either. I thought you were right. I thought that I was just feeling it in the moment. But I wasn’t. I really…”

“Jimin hyung,” Jeongguk croaked, and it was the most wonderful thing Jimin had heard in months. “I’m sorry. I’m really—I’m so sorry.”

“What’s this? Why are you apologizing?” Jimin asked, amused.

“I told you I wasn’t ready over that video call,” Jeongguk said, sounding regretful. “I told you all this crazy stuff because I was so scared, and I—I know it was valid, but then I watched the show, and I felt like—I just felt all these things, and I didn’t—”

“It’s okay.”

“I didn’t know what else to do—”

“I know.”

“So I just texted you all this stuff, and then I—”

“Jeon Jeongguk.”

Jeongguk snapped his mouth shut, because Jimin was seconds away from launching himself at Jeongguk and acting on every deep desire he’d been having for months. He knew that the moment he got his hands on Jeongguk, he wouldn’t want to let go.

“None of it matters,” Jimin said softly. “There’s nothing to explain. There’s nothing to apologize for. It’s just—we’re just two idiots at this point.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m not scared,” Jeongguk whispered.

“I’m scared, too,” Jimin admitted, his pulse still racing. “Terrified. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to have feelings like this for someone. And I don’t know if I know how to take care of you the way you deserve, but if you… if you let me…”

“What do you mean?” Jeongguk whispered. “T-Take care of me?”

“Yeah. As in, give you the whole world,” Jimin replied, going for broke. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. But before, when you—when we were together, you kept telling me that your exes thought you were boring, or that no one ever reciprocated all the love you gave. And it pissed me off so much. Do you know how mad that made me?”

“Mad,” Jeongguk breathed, because his eyes were shining, and he looked too dumbfounded to form sentences. But Jimin was on a roll. He had been bottling all of this up for months, and now it was pouring out of him effortlessly with an attentive audience of one.

“Mad,” Jimin confirmed. “I couldn’t believe anyone had ever treated you like that. That anyone ever thought you were boring. That you didn’t have someone taking care of you and doting on you and—I don’t know. All that. And honestly, that’s… that’s why I got on a plane so fast. Because you asked for a date, and I wasn’t about to miss my chance. So yeah. If you’d let me at least try, I think maybe… maybe I could do it. Maybe I could treat you well.”

Jeongguk stared wordlessly, but when he blinked, Jimin saw several tears spilling from his eyes down his cheeks. Without hesitation, Jimin lunged forward and slipped one hand behind Jeongguk’s neck to cup it, and he used his shirt sleeve to dab and wipe away the tears. Likely by instinct, Jeongguk’s hands shot out and gripped Jimin’s shirt at the waist.

“I’m sorry. I know this is a lot at once,” Jimin said, still wiping tears as Jeongguk frantically nodded. “But to answer your final text message question, yes. I want to go on a date with you. I’m here for two weeks without a single thing on my schedule, Jeongguk. I’m here for two weeks to see what… I don’t know. To see what we can do. You and me.”

“Okay, okay, but what—what about you?” Jeongguk asked, gripping Jimin’s waist tighter. It sent shivers down Jimin’s spine. “What about you, hyung?”

“What about me?”

“Don’t you deserve the same?” Jeongguk asked with a kind of careful affection in his voice that Jimin had never been on the receiving end of before. “You…” Jeongguk’s cheeks flushed slightly. “You say in interviews and everything that you don’t really… pursue relationships. Because of your lifestyle. Because it’s too difficult. But isn’t it just because you’ve been hurt a lot before?”

“Mm.” Jimin rested both of his hands gently on the nape of Jeongguk’s neck. “I won’t deny that. I don’t know. All I ever wanted was to have someone. To not be alone. To be able to share my life with someone else without anyone needing to benefit from it. Just… Just two people who want to be with each other.”

“Well, you’re one person. I’m another person. I’m not the best at math, but that’s two people,” Jeongguk declared, and Jimin smiled, brushing his knuckles against the short hair just above Jeongguk’s ear. Jeongguk took a deep breath. “Oh, God, you’re actually here. Park Jimin is in my living room. You really… this is real. No cameras?” He glanced up, and Jimin scoffed and nudged the side of his head. Finally, Jeongguk grinned, wrapping his arms around Jimin’s waist. “Can I do this?”

“What, hold me? I was hoping you’d do a little more than that,” Jimin said with a little shrug.

“So you just knocked on my front door to answer a text message from overseas, gave me your rom-com confession that I reciprocated, and now you want to kiss me,” Jeongguk listed as Jimin listened and nodded along to each point.

“The screenwriters of the world are weeping,” he jested, holding his breath with a racing heart.

“So I can kiss you properly now?” Jeongguk wondered.

“No, no,” Jimin whispered. “I can kiss you properly.”

Jimin raked his fingers through Jeongguk’s hair, but it was Jeongguk who took Jimin’s face between his hands with his fingertips curling behind Jimin’s nape, and then they collided. Jimin’s hands slipped to press against Jeongguk’s chest the moment their lips met, and it was the kind of kiss Jimin had dreamed about for months. The first kiss was curious but brimming with pure want, and Jeongguk pulled away with his forehead against Jimin’s, their noses brushing together as they both took a deep breath, like they needed to process what they were doing.

But Jimin was all in.

They kissed again, this time without hesitation. Jeongguk’s lips were soft and he still smelled like warm vanilla, completely intoxicating. He was pliant and adapted to every single kiss, every touch, every little breath Jimin took. Trembling, Jimin traced his tongue along Jeongguk’s bottom lip, grazing over his lip ring, and that seemed to do it for Jeongguk. He inhaled sharply and pushed the two of them until Jimin’s back hit the wall, and it stole Jimin’s breath. But never once did they stop kissing, both of them drowning too deeply to be the first to ask for a lifeline. 

“You’re here,” Jeongguk breathed, hands still on Jimin’s face as he tilted Jimin’s head to pepper kisses along his jaw. “You’re really here.”

“Is it okay?” Jimin whispered, eyes falling shut as another shiver ran down his spine. This was pure bliss; he had never been this weak for anyone before, but it was the best feeling. “Is it okay that I’m here?”

“Mhm.” Jeongguk paused with his forehead against Jimin’s again. “You… You really… be honest with me. Be honest.”

“About what, baby?” Jimin whispered, the term of endearment slipping out so easily. How could he resist? 

“Do you have another schedule here?” Jeongguk asked. Immediately, Jimin wrapped one arm around Jeongguk’s waist and gripped Jeongguk’s chin between his thumb and index finger with affection.

“Look at me,” he requested, and Jeongguk did. “I canceled and rescheduled all of my plans. My schedule is blank. Namjoon isn’t even here. The only thing I’m here to do is this. This right here. You and me. I’m here for you, Jeongguk. Only you. Nothing else even matters.”

“It’s just—I was so sad yesterday,” Jeongguk admitted. Jimin kissed him softly twice and nodded to show that he was listening. “I was so mad at myself for—for letting you go. For that entire video call, for not even giving it a chance, for all of it. I didn’t think—it didn’t make sense. I didn’t understand how someone like you could ever…”

“Don’t even say it,” Jimin admonished in a gentle tone. “Don’t give me that line. ‘How could someone like you ever want someone like me?’ No. Say sorry for thinking that little of yourself.”

Jeongguk laughed as Jimin smiled. “I’m sorry, I’m… you understand, though.”

“I understand. But we’re just two humans at the end of the day,” Jimin reminded Jeongguk. “And I’m… how do I say this? What’s the right line? I’m completely and absolutely head over heels for you. And I have no clue where this is going, but fuck it.”

“Then stay,” Jeongguk whispered. “Stay here tonight. Stay with me. Because I feel the same way. I’m head over heels for you, too. That’s—Okay, well, that’s terrifying, but—but stay. Please stay.”

“I’m so glad you asked,” Jimin whispered with his lips against Jeongguk’s before kissing him again. And again. Oh, I could get used to this, Jimin thought with every kiss, because what in his life could he compare to kissing Jeongguk without having to agonize over the consequences? It was nothing short of utopian.

“Do you wanna see my cat?” Jeongguk asked between kisses, and Jimin couldn’t control himself anymore. He burst out laughing with his arms draped over Jeongguk’s shoulders as Jeongguk leaned in and followed the line of Jimin’s neck with his lips, grinning.

“I’ve seen your cat already. He’s on the coffee table judging us,” Jimin said, glancing over. Tigger was, indeed, perched on the coffee table like a statue, staring at them without moving like he was plotting his revenge. “Are you going to ask me to watch Netflix with you next?”

“No. I’ll just ask if you want to see my bedroom,” Jeongguk said boldly, and Jimin stifled a laugh.

“Well, now you’ve just crossed the line,” he teased, feeling like he was floating. This was real. Jeon Jeongguk, Jimin’s vision of the ideal dream man, was walking backwards towards his bedroom with Jimin’s hands in his, ears tinged pink shyly with his bottom lip between his teeth but with determined steps.

“You didn’t have to dress up on my behalf,” Jeongguk joked, pausing and pulling Jimin closer to him with a one-dimpled grin. Jimin clicked his tongue but was silenced when Jeongguk kissed him again. To remain as typical in appearance as possible, Jimin had chosen just black pants and a black long-sleeved t-shirt, and now Jeongguk was tracing the collar of the t-shirt with his index finger, grazing Jimin’s skin as they backed up into the bedroom.

“I’m sick and tired of you teasing me and I won’t deal with another second of it,” Jimin insisted, and the grin on Jeongguk’s face was so full of wonder that Jimin nearly lost his breath. “I want you on the bed. Please.”

“Oh, he’s polite,” Jeongguk said, but then he collided with Jimin again, and the lighthearted joking was temporarily suspended. Jimin pressed his body to Jeongguk’s and Jeongguk threaded his fingers into Jimin’s hair, and the kiss was electrifying. Jimin traced Jeongguk’s bottom lip with his tongue, Jeongguk untucked Jimin’s t-shirt and slipped one hand beneath to the curve of Jimin’s back, and neither one of them seemed to want to waste another second of time.

The backs of Jeongguk’s knees hit the edge of the bed, but he didn’t fall backwards. Instead, he kept his forehead pressed to Jimin’s as he shyly tugged on the hem of Jimin’s t-shirt, his breath quickening. Jimin reached one hand around, grabbed the back of his shirt, and pulled it off in one motion, tossing it aside and toying with Jeongguk’s shirt at the same time. He began to pull it upward, and the way that Jeongguk lifted his arms and stretched almost brought Jimin to his knees.

“Jimin,” Jeongguk breathed, long eyelashes brushing his cheekbones as his eyes fell shut at Jimin’s touch. There seemed to be no better way to explore Jeongguk’s body than to feel. Jimin couldn’t keep his hands off. He glided over the smooth planes of Jeongguk’s shoulders, his chest, down his ribs to his tiny waist as he leaned in and peppered kisses all along Jeongguk’s jawline, knowing he would have to take his time to admire all the tattoos inked onto Jeongguk’s skin.

“Will you do this with me?” Jimin whispered, his heart suddenly racing with anticipation. Was this too fast? Too sudden? Had they talked enough about it? What if—?

“Been waiting,” Jeongguk replied without hesitation, and then his hands found Jimin’s waist, squashing Jimin’s silent worries. He fell back onto the bed and used his elbows to scoot backwards towards the pillows, Jimin kneeling on the bed after being pulled down. Now in just his black sweatpants, Jimin couldn’t help but think Jeongguk had too much clothing on. He wanted it off—

“You’re joking,” he murmured, though Jeongguk could hear. “As if you couldn’t be any prettier than you already are.”

“Hmm? Oh,” Jeongguk said with a laugh and then a quick intake of breath. He was leaning on his elbows, but his head fell back for a moment when Jimin bent and began to kiss down the center of his chest to his stomach. His touch was light, and Jimin shivered when he brushed past the bellybutton piercing Jeongguk had.

“That was my twenty-first birthday present to myself,” Jeongguk said softly, and when Jimin glanced up, he saw that Jeongguk had his bottom lip between his teeth. Infuriated at how devastatingly sexy Jeongguk was without even trying, Jimin gripped Jeongguk’s hips and kissed his way back up until his lips were in the center of Jeongguk’s chest. Then he glanced up again. Jeongguk grinned.

“Got those when I was eighteen,” he said, eyes flicking down to the barbell nipple piercings he had. “You like them?”

“Like them,” Jimin murmured, chuckling. “At this point, I’m never going to stop touching you.” He carefully ran his thumbs over the piercings, and then he continued to kiss up to the hollow of Jeongguk’s throat. “You’re beautiful, Jeongguk,” he whispered.

“Says you,” Jeongguk whispered back. “You’re so—hi.”

“Hi,” Jimin said with a smile, his forehead back against Jeongguk’s as he hovered. He wanted this. He wanted this so badly that he couldn’t recall a time in his life when he had ever needed intimacy like this. He craved Jeongguk, wanted everything he had to offer, wanted to be completely consumed and overwhelmed by him.

“You’re so beautiful that sometimes, I forget what I’m supposed to say,” Jeongguk continued. “Every time you walked into my office, I just—no thoughts. Swore my eyes were gonna turn into hearts. Like that emoji.”

“Well then, I think we’re both equally enamored with each other, so.” Jimin leaned in, and Jeongguk laughed as their lips met again. Heart still racing, Jimin straddled Jeongguk’s waist as they kissed, and it was everything he ever wanted, but it still wasn’t enough. So he situated himself between Jeongguk’s legs and gently grabbed the waistband of Jeongguk’s sweatpants, finding Jeongguk’s gaze to ask for permission. Jeongguk nodded frantically, his head falling back onto the pillow again as he lifted his hips.

“You too,” he whispered just loudly enough for Jimin to hear. Jimin slipped off the bed, kicked his pants off in one go, and climbed back on. To his surprise, Jeongguk grabbed him and spun the two of them, and then he promptly straddled Jimin and sat in his lap. Jimin inhaled sharply, fingernails digging into Jeongguk’s skin when their hips met, now that they were both down to just their underwear. He could feel how hard Jeongguk was already, and surely Jeongguk could feel Jimin all the same. His hands gripped Jeongguk’s thighs, right over the dragon tattoo he had on his right hip that wrapped around his thigh. He was stunning.

“How do you want it?” Jimin asked, his hands trembling.

“Want you to fuck me. Please. If you want to,” Jeongguk added, and Jimin snorted with laughter.

“If I want to. You’re funny,” he whispered against Jeongguk’s lips, pressing three soft kisses there. His heart was relentless, refusing to calm down. Was this…?

“Okay, then yes, that’s what I want,” Jeongguk declared, but he didn’t let Jimin turn the tables. Instead, he slid off Jimin’s lap until he could lay Jimin back propped up against his pillows, and then he hovered and pressed his lips to Jimin’s once.

“Jeongguk—” But then Jimin lost all sense of himself. Jeongguk began to kiss straight down Jimin’s body in what was nothing short of adoration in slow motion. He kissed Jimin’s neck, down his collarbone, straight down the middle of his chest, pausing and taking a deep breath with his lips over Jimin’s pounding heart. Jimin’s breath hitched when Jeongguk moved down the center of his stomach, lips covering every inch of skin he could find, and Jimin swore he heard Jeongguk murmur “so beautiful” against his navel. When he paused with his lips just shy of Jimin’s waistband, his hands wrapped around Jimin’s waist, and he flicked his eyes up.

“Baby,” Jimin rasped, reaching up and raking his fingers through Jeongguk’s soft hair. Jeongguk’s eyes fluttered shut as he scooped his hands until they were under the small of Jimin’s back, and then he dragged his lips past Jimin’s waistband as Jimin held his breath, anticipating. But Jeongguk passed right over Jimin’s aching cock and pressed his lips to the juncture of Jimin’s hip and thigh.

“You’re so beautiful,” Jeongguk whispered loud enough for Jimin to hear. “So… beautiful… so… so… gorgeous…”

“Jeon Jeongguk,” Jimin breathed, fingers tightening in Jeongguk’s hair as Jeongguk’s lips pressed to his inner thigh. “Stop it right now.”

“Make me.”

Jimin launched himself upright as Jeongguk let out a quiet laugh, and then Jimin flipped them and straddled Jeongguk’s hips. Gently but with a firm hand, Jimin gathered Jeongguk’s wrists and pressed them to the pillow on either side of Jeongguk’s head, rolling his hips and bending down to kiss along Jeongguk’s neck. Jeongguk let out a soft moan, lifting his hips up to meet Jimin’s, surrendering immediately, head lolling to the side. Jimin took his time kissing every available inch of skin along Jeongguk’s neck and jawline, and then he scooted and ran his hands down Jeongguk’s chest.

“There’s so much I want to do to you,” Jimin said in a strained voice, trying to keep himself calm. “Tell me I’m not going to run out of time.”

“Mm-mm.” Jeongguk shook his head against the pillow, and Jimin nearly gasped for air. He was so lovely, so beautiful, all breathless and shining eyes and pink lips and flushed cheeks. “This is only the first time, right? We’ll do this again. And again. And again—”

Jimin cut him off with a firm kiss, and then he situated himself between Jeongguk’s legs, running his hands down Jeongguk’s strong thighs as Jeongguk shivered. Cautiously, Jimin crawled his fingers up to hook into the waistband of Jeongguk’s underwear, glancing up at him for approval. Jeongguk licked his lips and nodded, and then he lifted his hips to help as Jimin pulled off his final stitch of clothing and tossed it aside. Jimin took a deep breath and just drank Jeongguk in from head to toe now that he was entirely naked, and it was glorious. 

“Well, don’t just look at it,” Jeongguk borderline whined, and Jimin let out a laugh, relaxing. The tension was still there. It was suffocating. But there was comfort in it, like they had been doing this for years. And they weren’t going to run out of time. Jimin could savor this.

“And if I want to?” Jimin asked in a low voice, lightly trailing his fingers down the lines of muscle leading to Jeongguk’s hips.

“I’m kidding,” Jeongguk added with a coy smile. “Look all you want. But I’m just gonna—”

Jeongguk leaned with a little grunt and pulled open his side table drawer, emerging with lube and a condom that he tossed to the side for Jimin to use at his leisure.

“Are you sure about this?” Jimin breathed, heart racing again.

“Bearing in mind that you are about to fuck me? Yes,” Jeongguk declared with a grin. “I’m living my your-name fanfiction dream.”

“You’re really—” Jimin started, but he didn’t have to finish, because Jeongguk burst out laughing with him. It should have killed the mood and cut the tension, but neither of them seemed intent on letting that happen. Just as quickly as the joke had hit, it was gone and replaced with a soft moan from Jeongguk. Jimin wrapped his hand around Jeongguk’s cock and stroked a few times as he reached for the lube, watching the way Jeongguk fisted the blanket as his head fell back again.

“Are you any good at this?” Jeongguk asked, sounding breathless. Jimin drizzled lube on his fingers, rubbing them together as he fought back a grin.

“Do you want to find out?” he asked, and Jeongguk nodded eagerly. Jimin reached and grabbed a pillow, and Jeongguk immediately lifted his hips up like he had done it a thousand times. Jimin repositioned himself so that he was hovering over Jeongguk, bending to kiss him.

“Baby,” Jimin whispered, and Jeongguk hummed and opened his eyes. “Can I call you that?”

“You can— oh,” Jeongguk gasped when Jimin slipped one finger in and angled it until he could gently curl it. “Oh, shit. Y-Yeah, you can call me whatever you want. C-Can—can I call you…?”

“Please,” Jimin whispered hopefully, because he would be lying if he said he hadn’t dreamed of hearing any kind of term of endearment fall from Jeongguk’s lips in his direction. Now he was living out his dream in real time, fingering Jeongguk open as Jeongguk fumbled and found the lube himself. He motioned for Jimin to come just a little closer, so Jimin did, and at the same time, he pulled his middle finger out and slipped two fingers back into Jeongguk, slowly twisting them to find the spot he wanted.

“Okay, you’re fucking good at this,” Jeongguk gasped, but now he had Jimin compromised, because he wrapped his lubed hand around Jimin’s cock and began to stroke him at a painstaking but blissful pace. Neither of them let up until Jeongguk was nearly writhing, and Jimin was gritting his teeth, desperate to be inside Jeongguk.

“Have I kissed you enough yet?” Jimin asked, his lips still exploring the span of Jeongguk’s collarbone.

“I’m losing my mind,” Jeongguk choked out. “I’m ready, that’s enough. Babe.”

“Hmm.” Jimin slipped his fingers out and reached for the condom, his heart swelling. He glanced at Jeongguk as he rolled the condom on and used the leftover lube to slick himself up, and he was a goner. Jeongguk spread across the cream sheets with flushed skin and a bit of blonde hair hanging in one eye was the vision that Jimin saved to his memory in that moment.

“Take your time,” Jeongguk requested.

“I told you.” Jimin kept the pillow beneath Jeongguk’s hips and then hitched one of Jeongguk’s legs over his shoulder with ease. “There’s so much I want to do to you.”

Jeongguk looked like he had more he wanted to say, perhaps a witty comeback. But then Jimin lined himself up and pushed in, and all of Jeongguk’s prepared responses died on the tip of his tongue. He seemed to hold his breath, same as Jimin, letting out a small whimper when he was overwhelmed. Jimin paused, caressing Jeongguk’s leg over his shoulder and turning his head to press a kiss to soft, warm skin. He waited until Jeongguk’s breathing evened out before he continued, bottoming out.

“Okay, o-okay. Oh, God, we’re really doing this,” Jeongguk whispered.

“Really,” Jimin confirmed, and then he pulled out nearly all the way and thrusted back in. Jeongguk let out a breath of pleasure, and then he nodded with his head against the pillow, spurring Jimin on. Jimin slid his hand to the underside of Jeongguk’s thigh and pressed, steadily fucking into Jeongguk, sparks of arousal consuming his entire body. 

There were very few words Jimin knew to describe what it felt like to be this intimate with Jeongguk, to share Jeongguk’s body like this, to touch him like this. He fucked Jeongguk slowly at first, deeply, taking time to commit every second of it to memory, feeling, leaning in to kiss Jeongguk when Jeongguk only opened his mouth like he was going to speak. He bent both of Jeongguk’s knees and pressed them to his chest, fucking him harder until Jeongguk’s moans filled the space of the bedroom. He brought Jeongguk right to the edge by stroking his cock in time with each thrust until Jeongguk was begging, and then he paused and drank in the heavy panting between them, the sweat glistening on their skin, the way they whispered soft, sweet nothings to each other.

“Flip,” Jeongguk whispered, and before Jimin could ask for clarification, Jeongguk rolled the two of them and straddled Jimin. Breathless, he knelt and reached behind him to wrap his hand around Jimin’s cock, and then he slowly lowered himself down until he was completely full. 

“Come here,” Jimin breathed, so Jeongguk fell forward so they could collide in a kiss. Jimin ran his hands down Jeongguk’s ribs and gripped his ass, deepening the kiss as he planted his heels into the mattress and fucked up into Jeongguk. Jeongguk moaned into Jimin’s mouth, and Jimin could feel him trembling. “You are… without a doubt… the most… gorgeous man… I’ve ever laid eyes on,” Jimin rasped against Jeongguk’s lips with each thrust upwards.

“Oh, fuck, keep going,” Jeongguk moaned, fingernails digging into Jimin’s chest. “Fuck, that’s— hyung, hyung, that’s—oh, God, keep going.”

Jimin was dangerously close to tipping over the edge, his entire body tingling, warmth in the pit of his stomach. He wanted everything Jeongguk had to offer, unfiltered, absolute. He held Jeongguk to his chest only for one more moment, and then he encouraged Jeongguk to sit up and ride him, and Jeongguk did. He leaned back and found a good angle and rolled hips while he looked down at Jimin.

There’s a future here.

It was a startling thought in the middle of sex, but it took Jimin’s breath away. He could envision a future with Jeongguk, something he had never been able to do with any of his other partners. There had been glimmers of hope before, but nothing like this. This was enough to stop him dead in his tracks. This was the reason why he had dropped everything to come back to California.

“Baby, I’m close,” Jimin choked out, feeling his entire body react to the way Jeongguk was riding him. He was steady and smooth and looked so gorgeous, rocking his hips with his head falling back, a little gasp escaping his mouth whenever Jimin’s cock brushed against just the right spot inside him. But the moment Jimin spoke, Jeongguk paused, panting, and looked down at Jimin.

“You are?” he asked, and Jimin snapped. He rolled the two of them again and knelt between Jeongguk’s legs, grabbing his right leg beneath the thigh and pressing it to his chest. He sank back into Jeongguk and began to fuck him harder and faster, feeling like he was out of control. The bed jolted and Jeongguk moaned, begging Jimin to keep going. Jimin swatted Jeongguk’s hand away and instead wrapped his own hand around Jeongguk’s cock, stroking him in a steady, quick rhythm to match the thrusts. 

“Fuck, keep talking. Keep talking, don’t stop,” Jimin begged with his head hanging, because hearing Jeongguk’s moans and ramblings of sheer pleasure was a turn-on he hadn’t been expecting. 

“K-Keep—how— fuck, you’re so—I’m gonna come, keep— Jimin-ah,” Jeongguk gasped out, and Jimin swore he blacked out for a moment at the sound of his name. He let out a soft moan and gritted his teeth with a few final, rough thrusts as he spilled into the condom, his entire body on fire. Then he felt cum dripping down the hand he had wrapped around Jeongguk’s cock and realized that the other moan was from Jeongguk, because he had come at the same time.

Jimin fell forward and pressed his hands to the mattress by Jeongguk’s head. Jeongguk’s leg fell as he caught his breath. Spellbound by the pink tinge to Jeongguk’s cheeks and his tousled hair and his glassy, unfocused eyes, Jimin bent and kissed him softly, sweetly, lingering for a moment.

“So? Am I any good at this?” he whispered, and he felt a small breath against his lips as Jeongguk laughed.

“You’re not half bad,” Jeongguk joked as Jimin grinned. “Come here.”

“Hold on.”

Jimin pulled out and tossed the condom, and Jeongguk pointed him to the bathroom for a washcloth. After wiping down but without bothering to put clothes on, Jimin climbed onto the bed as Jeongguk sat on his knees, waiting. The moment Jimin was lying on the pillows, Jeongguk rolled right on top of Jimin as Jimin grunted, both of them laughing until they settled in. Then Jeongguk grabbed the sheet and draped it over his own back, creating a little cocoon for the two of them.

“Hi,” he said softly, so Jimin pulled him down for a kiss. “We’re definitely fucking again, right?”

“Seeing as I’m here for two weeks,” Jimin started, and Jeongguk grinned.

“Okay, so that’s a definite yes,” he decided, and then he slid down and buried his face in Jimin’s neck, lips pressed to the hollow of his throat. “I can’t believe you came all the way here for me.”

“Of course I did,” Jimin murmured, turning his head to drop a kiss onto Jeongguk’s hair. “I don’t think you get it, Jeongguk. You really don’t know the effect you have on me.”

“But isn’t this crazy?”

“Yeah. Of course it’s crazy,” Jimin said as he traced nonsensical patterns with his fingertips along Jeongguk’s back. “I literally fell for the wedding planner I was supposed to only be shadowing, and I just upheaved my entire schedule for two weeks to come out here and be with you. I haven’t even considered the professional consequences of that.”

“Put yourself in my shoes,” Jeongguk muttered, and Jimin felt a few gentle fingers tucking hair behind his ear. He closed his eyes with a smile, his heart soaring, because Jeongguk repeated the motion twice more. “I’ve watched you on TV since you were eighteen. Now you’re in my bed saying you fell for me.”

“Life is funny that way,” Jimin whispered.

“I want to know you. Like—” Jeongguk grunted and propped up on one elbow as Jimin draped one arm around his waist. “I want to know the real you. Not actor Park Jimin. Not celebrity Park Jimin. He’s amazing, but… well, I think you’re being your real self with me already, but…”

“I am,” Jimin promised quietly. “It’s… not exactly the easiest thing. I’m used to closing myself off to people. But I want you to know me, baby. The real me, not the illusion.”

“I think you fucking me shattered the illusion,” Jeongguk joked, and Jimin grinned, running his hands down the smooth planes of Jeongguk’s lower back, over his ass and down his thighs, and then back up to the middle of his spine. “Are you really allowed to be here for two weeks? With the show ending and all?”

“I don’t have a schedule,” Jimin repeated. “I may get coerced into some phone interviews or video call interviews, but I can do that from my apartment. I’m here with you. I promise.”

“I’m sorry I keep asking,” Jeongguk whispered, so Jimin lifted his head and pressed light kisses along Jeongguk’s cheek and jaw. “It just feels… surreal. That you’re… that we’re… that we just…”

Jimin laughed as Jeongguk dropped back down and buried his face in Jimin’s neck, breathing in deeply. He embraced Jeongguk tightly, savoring the feel of their naked bodies pressed together, Jeongguk’s heart beating against his.

“Jeongguk,” Jimin whispered.

“Hmm.”

“I like you so much. What should I do?” Jimin whispered, and he felt Jeongguk smile against his neck. Felt him nuzzling. Heard him take a slow, deep inhale.

“Not let go of me,” Jeongguk murmured as Jimin tightened his grip. “Ever.”

Jimin wasn’t sure how long they kissed after that. It was at least fifteen minutes of back-and-forth, small kisses and soft laughter, quiet whispers and gentle touches. Jeongguk teased Jimin when he felt Jimin getting hard again. Jimin teased him back for the same thing. Jeongguk then rolled them and wrapped his hand around both of their cocks, moving shyly at first until Jimin was whispering his praises. Then his strokes became far more confident, and Jimin was seeing stars, eyes rolling back. In a tandem harmony of gasps, they both came while clutching each other close.

“We need to change the sheets,” Jeongguk complained, and Jimin snickered.

“What, you don’t want to sleep on sheets full of sweat and cum?” he joked.

“I’d rather eat dirt,” Jeongguk said dramatically, so he and Jimin both rolled off the bed. Jeongguk began to reach for his clothes, but Jimin sputtered and stopped him. Jeongguk glanced up, eyebrows raised.

“I like you naked,” Jimin declared, trying not to blush. Jeongguk was a masterpiece of broad shoulders, a slender frame, a tiny waist, muscular thighs, and large hands. He was covered in tattoos—arms, chest, back, hip and thigh, all pictures Jimin hadn’t yet admired in full detail. And when he stretched with a lazy grin, the belly button piercing glinted in the lighting of the bedroom, as did the nipple piercings.

“Okay. Then you have to stay naked, too,” Jeongguk requested, and then he pulled open his closet and rose up on his toes to grab a clean set of sheets. Jimin promptly ripped off the old ones to help, and Jeongguk changed the sheets in record time.

It was getting late now, closing in on midnight. Jeongguk offered a second toothbrush for Jimin to use. Jimin quickly texted Seokjin that he was staying the night. And as Jimin crawled onto the bed, he tried to grapple with what had just happened in the last few hours.

He had gotten on a plane in Korea in a lovesick frenzy, anxious for answers, his entire schedule shot to hell. He had shown up on Jeongguk’s doorstep without a plan but with an open heart, desperate to grasp at his one and only chance, and now he had it. Now Jeongguk was lying naked with a sheet draped over his waist, eyes still glossy in a post-sex haze, one hand tucked under the pillow as he studied Jimin’s face.

Right person. Right time.

“Thank you,” Jimin whispered.

“For what?” Jeongguk blinked in confusion.

“For letting me in. For giving me a chance. For everything,” Jimin said softly. “I know it’s still confusing. I know we’ll have to talk in the morning. But right now…”

“Yeah.” Jeongguk smiled. “Right now.”

Jeongguk reached over and flicked off the lamp. Jimin tangled his legs with Jeongguk’s legs and moved closer. And for the first time in years, he fell asleep to the sound of someone else’s steady breathing and the feeling of a warm hand on his waist.

FADE OUT

Chapter Text

INT. JEONGGUK’S BEDROOM – MORNING

JEONGGUK is slow to wake up, but the bed is empty. There’s evidence that someone was lying next to him, and his bedroom door is halfway open.

When Jeongguk awoke, it was in an empty bed. He was used to that. There was nothing out of the ordinary. 

Until he remembered.

“Hyung?” he croaked, half-awake. Had he just imagined everything in a fever dream last night? Had Park Jimin really shown up on his doorstep looking like a dream come true just to confess his feelings and fall into Jeongguk’s bed? Had Jeongguk really spent an hour sharing his body with Jimin like that, touching him, kissing him, falling asleep with him?

Jeongguk propped up on one elbow, squinting, and then he realized that his bedroom door was slightly ajar, and so was his closet door. He took a deep breath, and then he smelled coffee and something else, some kind of sweet food. But before he could call out again or wonder what was happening, the door creaked open.

“Ah, you’re awake.”

There was Jimin, wearing a pair of Jeongguk’s sweatpants and one of Jeongguk’s t-shirts, as made evident by how large it was on him. Face bare, black hair tousled and hanging in his eyes, but bright and alert and smiling. As if that wasn’t enough to do Jeongguk in, Jimin padded into the room, pressed his palms into the mattress while leaning, and kissed Jeongguk.

“Good morning, darling,” he whispered, and Jeongguk’s heart somersaulted.

“Good morning,” he whispered back. “You’re still… here? You didn’t…”

“What, did you expect me to leave? You think that little of me? Please,” Jimin scoffed, and then he kissed Jeongguk once more and held up a finger. “Stay right there. Don’t move.”

Jeongguk rubbed his eyes sleepily, bewildered, but he waited and followed instructions. He heard a bit of muttering and some dishes clanging out in the kitchen, but then Jimin sidled back into the room, using his shoulder and elbow to open the door.

“Hyung,” Jeongguk protested weakly, because Jimin had a small tray with a cup of coffee and some croffles with whipped cream on a plate. “What are you…?”

“I didn’t want to do too much cooking, because it’s your kitchen,” Jimin said as he gently set the tray down onto the bed near Jeongguk. “But I saw that you had croissants in the freezer, and I woke up earlier than you did because of jetlag, so I thought breakfast in bed would be nice.”

“Breakfast…” Jeongguk trailed off as Jimin picked up the second coffee cup that was on the tray and took a sip, the smile reaching his eyes first. Jeongguk glanced down at the spread before him, and then he swallowed heavily. “No one’s ever made me breakfast in bed before.”

Jimin almost choked on his coffee as he set the cup down and patted his own chest a few times. “Never?”

“Never,” Jeongguk whispered. “I know it’s—I get that it’s a cliché and, like, it’s something you do for your mom on Mother’s Day when you’re eight, but I haven’t—”

“Jeongguk.” Jimin lifted one hand and pressed it to Jeongguk’s cheek. “Stop. You deserve it. This is the bare minimum. If no one’s ever treated you the right way, then I’ll be fucking damned if I don’t.”

“But you—have you ever—?”

“Several times,” Jimin interrupted. “So stop your worrying and let me do this for you.”

Jimin did. He sat on the bed with Jeongguk as they shared breakfast, quietly chatting about Jimin’s flight to the States and where Seokjin was and how they needed to shower. Jimin then leaned in and kissed some of the whipped cream from Jeongguk’s lips, so Jeongguk decisively pinned Jimin to the bed and gathered the rest of the whipped cream that was left, dabbing it on Jimin’s lips and his neck and anywhere else Jeongguk could reach until he could kiss it all off or mark Jimin’s porcelain skin with love bites.

They showered together, two lovesick fools who wouldn’t admit to anything. Jeongguk massaged the shampoo into Jimin’s hair and lathered his entire body with the soap, borderline worshiping him while tracing every line and curve he had. Jimin, in turn, massaged Jeongguk’s shoulders and kissed his shoulder blades and down his spine, hugging him from behind.

“This is pretty,” Jimin murmured with his lips against Jeongguk’s wet skin. “When did you get it?”

His fingers fluttered across Jeongguk’s back, and Jeongguk smiled in a daze. He had a tiger in a mural tattooed across his entire back, and it had taken him months to finish when he was twenty-three.

“About five or six years ago,” he replied. “Around the same time I had a frenum piercing.”

Jeongguk felt Jimin freeze, and then he grinned and stifled a laugh when both of Jimin’s hands came to rest on Jeongguk’s hips and then fumbled downward between his legs to feel for any evidence. There was none, and Jeongguk squirmed, giggling as Jimin also laughed.

“I took it out a few years ago and never put it back in,” Jeongguk replied. “Bit of a shame.”

“You had a piercing on your dick? Jesus fucking Christ. As if you couldn’t get any hotter than you already are,” Jimin complained.

“Well, I can always get it re-done,” Jeongguk said with a coy smile.

“I’ll never leave it alone if you do.”

“Deal.”

They finished showering, and then Jeongguk shyly asked if Jimin was into bike riding. Jimin leapt at the opportunity, to Jeongguk’s delight, so they dressed in gym clothes, threw on helmets, and hopped on bikes to ride through Pasadena and the surrounding area for hours. 

Jeongguk assumed that Jimin would find him to be boring; he was taking a day off from work, after all, and whenever he did that, he used his time to do absolutely nothing substantial. Surely Jimin’s life was jam-packed with fun and exciting events. But Jimin careened through the streets of Pasadena with him, pedaling and weaving and pointing things out to Jeongguk that he thought were pretty, getting close enough to squeeze Jeongguk’s bicep or caress his thigh whenever they had to stop for traffic or to cross.

And then there was sex, a lot of it—so much, in fact, that on Tuesday morning, Jeongguk laughed at himself when he winced climbing the stairs to his own office. Jimin fucked him like it was the last time he ever would, and even though they had gone three rounds last night and Jeongguk had hardly slept and had even gotten eaten out first thing in the morning, it was all worth it. Jimin was worth it. 

It wasn’t until Friday that the reality of his situation really hit him—Jeongguk had Jimin in his house. He came home from work and found Jimin curled up on his couch with Tigger in his lap, reading a book or watching TV or napping. Sometimes, he found Jimin scrolling through emails with glasses on, and it was so devastatingly sexy that Jeongguk threw whatever device Jimin was holding aside and kissed him silly. There was a tentative domesticity to how they interacted suddenly, like they both understood they were living in a fairytale and neither of them wanted to be the first to burst the bubble.

Saturday was The Day™, according to Jeongguk. That was the day Jimin wanted to take him on a date, just like he had promised. He disappeared for several hours that afternoon, which was good; Jeongguk had gone out during the week and had gotten Jimin a little present, because he wouldn’t be in Los Angeles for much longer. The fairytale would be over soon, but Jeongguk would be damned if Jimin didn’t have something to remember him by when he left. 

“Baby?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” Jeongguk said, shivering happily when he heard the front door open and Jimin calling out to him. Jimin had a key for the remainder of his stay, and Jeongguk was thinking about just letting him keep it. Perhaps they were both new at this, but it seemed like the right thing to do.

“Ah, okay. Are you ready?”

“Jesus, look at you,” Jeongguk breathed, and he drank up Jimin’s laughter as he swept Jimin into his arms. “God, you look so pretty. You smell good, too.”

“Well, it’s our first real date,” Jimin said in a muffled voice, embracing Jeongguk in return. “I have to impress you.”

“You impress me just by existing.” Jeongguk set Jimin back onto his feet and stepped back to survey him. “Are you ready?”

“Why are you asking me that? You’re not driving,” Jimin said in a teasing tone. He was wearing white linen drawstring pants and a pale blue casual button-up, sunglasses pushing into his hair, rings adorning his fingers, looking like a California dream. But he wasn’t wearing a necklace, which was a win for Jeongguk.

“Well, you seem ready, so.” Jeongguk grinned and bent down to scoop Tigger up, since he was loitering around their feet. “Be good, my little furball. We’ll be back later.” He kissed the top of Tigger’s head and then deposited his cat on the kitchen counter, one of his favorite spots.

Jimin had told Jeongguk to dress for outdoor weather, so Jeongguk was wearing ripped up jeans and a white and yellow vertically striped short-sleeved button up with only about two buttons done. Jimin hadn’t stopped staring at him since walking through the door, so Jeongguk figured he was dressed appropriately.

“It’s a warmer day today for the end of November,” Jimin commented, scooting forward and slipping one of his hands into Jeongguk’s. He leaned in and kissed the underside of Jeongguk’s jaw, lingering and taking a deep breath that made Jeongguk shudder. “You’re gorgeous, you know that?”

“Says you,” Jeongguk whispered.

“The blonde hair is really doing it for me,” Jimin commented with one final kiss.

“What, the mint wasn’t?”

“Oh, no. The mint was—” Jimin gathered his fingertips at his lips and kissed them, and Jeongguk snickered. “But the blonde with the black undercut? Shit hits differently.”

“You know how weird it is to hear you talk like a normal human?” Jeongguk joked as they walked out the front door. “I’m so used to hearing you speak in interviews and on TV and everything. Having you talk right in front of my face and saying things like ‘shit hits differently’ is a mind fuck.”

“Wait until you hear how I talk to Taehyung,” Jimin joked, and Jeongguk stopped dead in his tracks.

“Kim Taehyung? Right. The—Right. He’s your best friend. That’s—okay,” Jeongguk said, and Jimin laughed so musically that Jeongguk lunged to catch up with him, arms around his waist immediately. They walked in tandem, teetering back and forth down the pathway towards a car that was idling in the street.

“Well, yeah. He’s been my best friend for years,” Jimin said, resting his hands overtop Jeongguk’s as they made their way down the sidewalk. Jeongguk pressed his lips to Jimin’s temple, grinning, savoring the smile on Jimin’s face. “You’ll meet him someday soon when you come to visit me in Korea. He’s heard all about you.”

“Oh.”

“All good things,” Jimin promised. “Now you get to meet my, uh—what did you call him? My bodyguard.”

“Oh,” Jeongguk repeated, releasing Jimin like Jimin was on fire as his ears burned in embarrassment. Jimin snickered as he opened the passenger side rear door.

“He’s seen it all, babe. Don’t worry,” Jimin promised, and then he tilted his head into the car. “Hyung, this is Jeongguk.”

“Jeon Jeongguk! As I live and breathe. The man, the myth, the legend. It’s an honor. Nice to finally meet you,” a voice called out, so Jeongguk quietly ducked into the backseat and slid across. He bumped into a hand that was extended through the center, and then Jeongguk bowed his head and shook the hand politely, and when he straightened up, he actually gasped.

“Woah. You’re really handsome,” he blurted out.

“Oh, Christ,” Jimin sighed as Seokjin let out a noisy sigh of delight.

“Ya-a-a-ah, I knew I liked him,” he said with a grin. “Just keep Jimin safe and we won’t have a single problem.”

“Save the threats for later, hyung,” Jimin said as he slid into the backseat with Jeongguk. “You know where to go?”

“Not at all, but Google Maps does,” Seokjin said cheerfully. “Seatbelts!”

Jeongguk and Jimin both buckled in, and Jimin immediately took Jeongguk’s hand and rested their interlaced fingers on his thigh. Jeongguk’s heart leapt into his throat as the car pulled away, because nothing in his life had ever been so surreal. He was sitting in the backseat with Park Jimin holding his hand and going on a date. Jimin had kissed him and touched him this morning until Jeongguk was a moaning mess, falling apart in Jimin’s hands while Jimin whispered his praises.  

For all his life, Jeongguk had dreamed of someone loving him without pretense, without conditions, in a way that wasn’t temporary. He yearned for all the cheesy, romantic dates and sentiments and breakfast in bed and picnic dates. And in just a week, Jimin had given him nearly all of that (or was about to), and he was so casual about it. It was overwhelming in the best possible way, and Jeongguk was thriving. This seemed to just be Jimin, just how he operated.

“Oh, are we going to the beach?” Jeongguk asked, perking up when he looked out the window after about thirty minutes of driving. The chatter in the car had been nothing short of hilarious for a solid half hour, but now Jeongguk recognized his surroundings. Los Angeles was his stomping ground, after all.

“I should have blindfolded you,” Jimin sighed.

“I can drive around in circles for another hour,” Seokjin offered, adjusting his sunglasses. “Until one of you either throws up or gets so confused that not even Google Maps can save you.”

“It’ll try,” Jimin said, still caressing Jeongguk’s hand with his thumb. “Make a U-turn. Make a U-turn. Make a fucking U-turn, you piece of shit.”

“Your Google Maps is aggressive,” Jeongguk said innocently, and then they all burst out laughing as Seokjin took another turn toward Venice Beach. “Ah, it’s such a pretty day.”

“I’ll drop you both off, and I’ll be loitering at a safe and respectable distance,” Seokjin said with a coy smile. “Behave yourselves. No public indecency.”

“Is he always like this?” Jeongguk asked Jimin.

“He has a six-year-old, so yes,” Jimin sighed. “Come on, I’ll get what we need from the trunk.”

Feeling giddy, Jeongguk thanked Seokjin and then hopped out of the car, sunglasses on. He watched as Jimin rummaged through the trunk and emerged with a large blanket draped over one arm, an actual picnic basket, and a little gift bag. He beamed at Jeongguk proudly when Jeongguk gaped.

“You’re kidding. You really went for a beach picnic,” he said in disbelief.

“Anything to sweep you off your feet, darling,” Jimin declared, pausing just in front of Jeongguk and kissing him softly. “Come with me.”

Jeongguk lunged and grabbed the blanket from Jimin, wrestling it out of his arms so he could carry it. They began to walk on the grass towards the sand and water to find a good spot, and Jeongguk glanced over his shoulder as the wind blew around them, a reminder that it was late November. Seokjin was strolling a safe distance behind them with his hands in his pockets, sunglasses on, inconspicuous.

“Oh. He’s following us,” Jeongguk noted.

“Well, he has to,” Jimin replied. “That’s his job, baby. He has to keep an eye on me and make sure no one’s following us around or trying to get pictures or trying to approach. I know Los Angeles is safer, but the chances are never zero.”

“So he’s going to watch us our entire date,” Jeongguk hissed, and Jimin laughed.

“Not the way you think,” he replied. “He’ll keep an eye on us, but he’s not going to pull out popcorn and stare at us for hours. He’s discreet. He’s seen a lot of shit over the years that we’ve been together. This is easy for him, trust me.”

Jimin paused and tugged Jeongguk’s hand, so Jeongguk faced him, his brow furrowed. The moment Jimin kissed him, he relaxed and melted into Jimin, one hand settling on his waist comfortably.

This was paradise.

MUSIC CUE: “butterflies” (feat. fletcher) by max

The beach was relatively abandoned for the time of year and time of day, so together, Jeongguk and Jimin spread out the blanket, and Jimin set down the picnic basket. He sat cross-legged on the blanket and Jeongguk nearly sat on top of him in curiosity, trying to peer into the basket. Jimin threw one leg over Jeongguk’s knee and opened the basket, presenting different items.

“Easy foods to eat for a beach picnic,” he announced, showing each item to Jeongguk—homemade sandwiches wrapped tightly for easy eating. A bag of chips. A container of strawberries and whipped cream. A bottle of champagne. Jimin popped the bottle of champagne like an expert as Jeongguk filmed him, so endeared that he suddenly couldn’t imagine not capturing every moment of his time with Jimin on camera. Jeongguk turned the camera to front-facing, and Jimin immediately leaned into him with the bottle of champagne in one hand, posing for the picture.

“It’s good champagne. I have bougie taste,” Jimin said, and Jeongguk almost spat out the sip he took from the plastic flute Jimin had provided. Jimin grinned as he tossed back the entire flute of champagne in one go, and then he offered a sandwich to Jeongguk.

It was a new kind of peace that Jeongguk had never considered—just the two of them alone with the sound of the ocean lapping against the shore as birds chirped overhead, eating together and sharing chips and making random, casual comments about passersby, refilling champagne. Dizzy in the head, a brand new feeling of delirium when it came to the natural ease of being with Jimin. This was like nothing Jeongguk had ever experienced. He had enjoyed some decent relationships in his life, some long-term. But as it turned out, he had never really understood what being treated like a king felt like until Jimin came along and managed to succeed with the bare minimum in a week’s time.

“Did you think this would happen?” Jeongguk asked after they were finished eating. Jimin flipped the lid of his picnic basket closed, and then he leaned back on his hands with his knees bent and nodded his head. Feeling like he was moving through a dream, Jeongguk scooted and turned around until he was sitting between Jimin’s legs, and then he relaxed back and rested his back to Jimin’s chest comfortably, his arms hugging Jimin’s knees on either side. Jimin dropped a kiss to the top of Jeongguk’s head.

“What, this date? No,” Jimin admitted. “No, I thought I had lost my chance.”

“So did I,” Jeongguk whispered softly. “It still doesn’t feel real. It feels like… I don’t know. Like when you leave next week, it’ll just be over. I have this feeling like I’m counting down the days.”

“Mm.” Jimin draped one arm casually over Jeongguk’s shoulder, hand on Jeongguk’s chest. “I know what you mean. It’s a weird feeling. I keep waiting for you to reject me.”

“Is that what you’re used to?” Jeongguk asked, still staring out onto the water.

“Not exactly,” Jimin said. “It’s a little more complicated than that. The last serious relationship I had was about three years ago. It was a secret the entire time, especially because it was with another man. But we fell for each other, and everything was so… magical. It just felt so good. We were both head over heels for each other. We talked about moving in together and everything. But then…”

“Is this the part where the illusion shattered?” Jeongguk asked, his heart aching for Jimin.

“Yeah. He didn’t like how much I was working,” Jimin replied. “It was like… It was like he wanted me to be the rich and well-loved celebrity, but he didn’t want me to do the work. And he started getting bitter. And then he dumped me and threatened to go public about our entire relationship just so he could get money out of me.”

“Oh, shit. Did he?”

“No. I have a good lawyer,” Jimin said, and Jeongguk could hear the smile in his voice. He was speaking so nonchalantly, and Jeongguk was soaking it all in. When he spoke like this, Jimin’s voice was so much more relaxed, a bit deeper, not as forced as when he was being interviewed or when he was acting. He was just Jimin. “So I became jaded. I still wanted to have someone, you know? But I was bitter, even if I didn’t say it. And then I met you.”

Jeongguk’s heart backflipped as he smiled, closing his eyes. He felt Jimin nuzzling the side of his head.

“You’re an absolute dream come true, Jeon Jeongguk. You were everything I had ever looked for, and I was terrified. What if I fuck this up? What if I’m imagining things because I’m desperate for someone in my life? What if you don’t feel the same way? I was having those thoughts,” Jimin admitted.

“Well, I’m hopeless,” Jeongguk replied. “Seriously. I wanted to hear bells when I met my soulmate. I’m that kind of person. And I thought about it the other day and realized that every time you walked into my stupid office, the windchimes made noise over the door.”

“Bells,” Jimin whispered with a soft laugh.

“Bells. But I’m really scared,” Jeongguk confessed. “Because this is the most vulnerable I’ve ever made myself for someone. It’s really easy for people to hurt me because I always have such high hopes. And I really… I don’t want you to hurt me.”

“Jeongguk,” Jimin murmured, his lips pressed to Jeongguk’s neck as his grip tightened. “Baby, I couldn’t hurt you if I tried. Even if, heaven forbid, this comes to an end someday, I don’t think I could even imagine hurting your heart. Not you. Never you. But that means you can’t hurt me, either.”

Jeongguk grunted and sat up, and then he twisted his upper body, one arm still draped over Jimin’s knee. As the waves kissed the shoreline again, Jeongguk kissed Jimin all the same, bringing one hand to Jimin’s face like he could shield the two of them from the world.

“Never you,” he repeated. “I’m pretty sure you’ll make me feel like this for a long time.”

“LIke what?” Jimin asked with his forehead against Jeongguk’s, smiling.

“I don’t know. Butterflies. The good old cliché,” Jeongguk said with a grin. “It’s just this feeling like—like this is right. You know? And it’s fucking terrifying because I want to be a pessimist about it. Like—Like I should be waiting for things to go wrong. For the feeling to stop.”

“Yeah. But guess what?” Jimin said in a singsong voice, and Jeongguk stifled a laugh. “We’re both clowns. And we’re both nervous. But we can make this work, baby. I know we can. I want this to work. Like, I—” Jimin hesitated, cutting himself off, but Jeongguk kissed him in encouragement, which seemed to give him strength. “I keep thinking about my acting career twenty years from now when I’m getting kick-ass roles still, and you’re there. You’re in the picture. I can’t explain it, I just… you’re there.”

“Well, then we’re going to have to work really fucking hard to keep it together,” Jeongguk whispered. “Because you being a celebrity still scares the hell out of me. The fact that we have to keep our relationship a secret is—that’s—I like showing off my partners, and I can’t…”

“I know.” Jimin leaned his forehead against Jeongguk’s temple. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I wish I could tell you that it can be different, but…”

“It can’t. I know that. I’m not ready for this kind of thing, but I have to be,” Jeongguk said resolutely. “For you. You know how sometimes you just have to pick your battles? Bite the bullet?”

“Is this one of those times?”

“Mhm. If I want this relationship, then I have to be okay with being a secret,” Jeongguk replied. “For now. But I think I’m okay with that. I don’t even want to know what would happen to my social media or my poor little business if people found out I was connected to you romantically.”

“One day at a time,” Jimin whispered. “Which reminds me—I have something for you.”

“What? No, shut up, me first,” Jeongguk complained, and Jimin laughed as Jeongguk scrambled back and scowled. “Let me go first. Please? Please.”

“Alright, fine. You first,” Jimin agreed. Relieved, Jeongguk reached into the bag he brought with him and pulled out a small box. He then presented it to Jimin, and he watched Jimin’s face light up. Jimin lifted the lid, and then he let out a little breath, using gentle fingers to touch what was inside the box.

“It’s subtle. J for Jimin. That’s what you can tell people,” Jeongguk said, trying not to feel embarrassed. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now he felt foolish. The feeling evaporated immediately, though, when Jimin glanced up at him with a smile full of adoration.

“Except it’s J for Jeongguk,” he figured. “So I can take you with me everywhere when we’re apart. Right?”

“Right.”

“It’s beautiful, Jeongguk. It’s actually funny, because—can you put it on me? It’s funny,” Jimin continued, scooting and turning around as he handed Jeongguk the box. Jeongguk carefully lifted the delicate silver chain out of the box with the simple cursive J pendant on it. “I was thinking of just stealing stuff from your house before I left. Whatever I could get my hands on to remind me of you when I go back home.”

“Well, I’ll give you whatever you want. But now you have this,” Jeongguk said, fingers trembling as he clasped the necklace around Jimin’s neck. It lay perfectly against his chest. Jeongguk grasped both of Jimin’s hands and kissed the knuckles of his right hand, of his left hand. “Wear it whenever you want.”

“So all the time,” Jimin said with a grin. “Now.” He held up a finger and began to reach for his bag. “What I got you isn’t nearly as exciting, but it’ll do.”

Jimin dragged over the little gift bag and presented it to Jeongguk, and Jeongguk peered in. He then lifted out a brand new planner for the new year, custom made and entirely in Korean with his name on the front.

“I got it custom made,” Jimin confirmed. “The sticker set is specific for a wedding planner. And I figured it would be nice to have something in Korean, since most of the planners you’d get here are in English. I know you use your iPad a lot, but…”

“I have a planner,” Jeongguk replied. “But not like this. It’s beautiful, hyung. And it’s not even Christmas.”

“Oh, you just wait.” Jimin grinned. “I like giving gifts. And cakes. All kinds of things. I’ll spoil you rotten.”

“I’ll be embarrassed by every second of it.”

“Deal.”

They both clutched their gifts and found their way back into each other’s arms. They didn’t talk much as the sun began to set, choosing to just be. To just wrap the extra blanket Jimin had brought around them and watch the sunset over the water. To kiss as the ocean continued to ebb and flow, cocoon themselves in the blanket and whisper sweet nothings to each other.

And then they crashed through Jeongguk’s front door later that night, gasping into each other’s mouths and desperately undressing, leaving a trail of clothing in their wake as they stumbled into chairs before tripping into the bedroom. Jeongguk had never felt so alive in his life, never felt so on fire but so good. Jimin pulled sounds out of him that Jeongguk never knew were possible. He straddled Jeongguk’s hips and kissed down his chest, had three fingers in Jeongguk while his mouth worked magic and Jeongguk nearly cried. He caged Jeongguk in with his body and fucked him from behind with his fingers threaded through Jeongguk’s hair. And when they were finished, when Jeongguk had Jimin curled up in his arms, he knew this was it.

This was his rom-com moment.

INT. JIMIN’S APARTMENT – NIGHT

JIMIN is back in South Korea, and it’s a cold night with a chance of snow. JIMIN is sitting on the floor with his cat, nursing a heartache. NAMJOON and TAEHYUNG occupy the couch. The trio have just finished dinner together.

There was very little that Jimin could compare to the heartbreak of leaving Jeongguk.

His puppy dog eyes, the way he relentlessly clutched Jimin’s hand on the ride to the airport, how he refused to answer several calls from anxious clients about their wedding plans because he was too busy gnawing on his lip ring. All Jimin wanted to do was turn the car around and take away Jeongguk’s emotional distress with a thousand kisses, but he knew that wasn’t possible.

So instead, with Jeongguk sitting in his lap in the car, Jimin had wiped away his tears while fighting back tears of his own, kissing Jeongguk goodbye. Promising him that this was hardly the end. Swearing fiercely that they would be together again soon. Christmas is coming, after all. That was what Jimin clung to as he embraced Jeongguk tightly.

“I’m not leaving until you agree to be my boyfriend.”

And that, that glorious moment was when Jeongguk had finally smiled. And he had agreed; of course he had agreed. Jimin liked to pretend that it had been a given all along, even though the words had come out of his mouth spontaneously without much thought. It felt so silly sometimes, having a boyfriend at age thirty. But it was never too late, he supposed, and Jeongguk was beaming through his tears by the time he said goodbye to Jimin properly.

Now it was Christmastime. Jimin was finally enjoying a day off after two weeks of pure chaos upon returning to Korea. The interviews, the photoshoots, the meetings, the filming schedule, the press conferences. He had been bombarded, as expected, and Namjoon had apologized, but it had been a necessary evil.

“I mean, are we surprised?”

“Hardly.”

“I was asking Jimin, but thank you, peanut gallery,” Namjoon said, and Taehyung grinned, his head still in Namjoon’s lap. Namjoon didn’t even glance up from his book as he rolled his eyes, but he continued to card his fingers through Taehyung’s hair lovingly.

“Okay, but my opinion is valid,” Taehyung declared, and Jimin hummed, sitting on the heated floor of his apartment with Winnie in his lap. Namjoon and Taehyung had come over for dinner, and now they were just basking in the glory of each other’s company, and Jimin was watching his friends enviously. “Your performance was fucking god tier.”

“It was average at best,” Jimin deadpanned.

“Does he hear himself speak?” Taehyung asked as he lifted his hand in the vicinity of Namjoon’s book to block the page. Namjoon still didn’t tear his eyes away from the book as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to Taehyung’s open palm. “Ah, okay. That was sweet. I’ll allow it.” Taehyung lowered his hand politely.

“You deserve it, Jimin-ah,” Namjoon added.

“Bass boosted all capital letters deserved, a performance that made me scream, cry, throw up, and pee a little,” Taehyung rattled off, his knees knocking together.

“Retweet,” Namjoon said distractedly as Jimin snorted with laughter.

“You two are a dumpster fire,” he commented, and then he saw his phone light up. Just another news alert about himself. He had been nominated for Most Popular Actor and Best Actor for the prestigious Baeksang Arts Awards in January, and social media was buzzing already and calling Jimin’s win prematurely. Last year, he had won Best Actor for Sleight of Hand, and the drama itself had won the Best Drama award. Many people were expecting the same success, but Jimin didn’t want to put any pressure on himself.

“But we’re your dumpster fire,” Taehyung said with a fond sigh. 

“Any reason why you’re both just hanging around?” Jimin wondered. “Not that I don’t love you.”

“Well, we were thinking of crashing in your spare bedroom tonight,” Taehyung flippantly commented. 

“And having a lot of loud, obnoxious sex,” Namjoon added calmly as he flipped the page. “Just to spite you.”

“Don’t be an asshole, hyung, his boyfriend is literally across the ocean.”

“Okay, so we’ll have quiet, very pleasant sex, and you’re invited to join us,” Namjoon corrected himself, and Jimin snorted with laughter. It wasn’t often that he heard Namjoon speak so crudely or openly; he was typically reserved. But when he was with Taehyung, some kind of switch flipped inside him, and he became a total goofball. It was one of Jimin’s favorite things about his friends’ relationship.

“We’re kidding,” Taehyung added, seeing the look on Jimin’s face. “We’re just here, to be honest. Figured we haven’t spent quality time with our third wheel since your birthday, so might as well.”

“He’s not the third wheel anymore,” Namjoon pointed out as he dog-eared his book and finally set it aside, adjusting his glasses. “How’s Jeongguk?” he asked Jimin.

“He’s doing really well. He told me the other day that he turned down a Christmas wedding,” Jimin said, feeling a surge of happiness at the sound of Jeongguk’s name and the opportunity to talk about him. “He’s done Christmas weddings every year for, like, five years? I think that’s what he said. And he decided against it this year. I think he’s actually taking a break, if I’m not mistaken. Which, I mean—”

“Bass boosted all capital letters deserved,” Taehyung supplied immediately, and Jimin pointed at him in approval.

“He works too hard,” Jimin said with a small frown. “But he’s always used work as a distraction from having to be involved in life, you know? Which I get. I’ve done it.”

“Well, yeah, because he did the whole ‘hopeless romantic’ thing and didn’t have someone like you to keep him busy,” Namjoon said with a dimpled smile. He picked his phone up and settled into the couch. “Happy for you, Jimin-ah. You two are a good match.”

“Yah, your interview was interesting,” Taehyung teased, and Jimin clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes. “You had the entire internet in shambles.”

“I made one comment,” Jimin said, and Namjoon snickered. About a week ago, he had done an interview and had been asked the question: “Are you happy with all the relationships in your life?” And Jimin had answered with: “For the first time in years, maybe in my life, I’m incredibly happy with the relationships in my life. I finally get it. I understand all the hype.” It had been ambiguous, but social media had immediately exploded. News article after news article— Does Park Jimin Have a Secret Relationship? And Meet the Mystery Woman Park Jimin is Dating with some incredibly vague bullshit and no sources. 

Immediately, Jimin had called Jeongguk to warn him, but Jeongguk had just giggled. Giggled, so endearing and so lovely to hear that Jimin had almost eaten his fist. And then he had said that none of it mattered, because he was too far away for the media to catch on, anyways.

MUSIC CUE: “coming home” by honne, niki

“Well, you know how social media is,” Namjoon commented, still petting Taehyung’s hair with his phone in one hand. “You say you’re happy and the internet goes, ‘okay, and what are your thoughts on the political and economic crises in this world?’“

“And then someone offers a cat meme,” Taehyung added. “Bottom line is, as long as Jeongguk isn’t upset, we’re doing well.”

“He was fine,” Jimin said dazedly, stroking Winnie’s fur. He then saw Namjoon check the time, and Namjoon patted Taehyung’s chest.

“We should go,” he said, showing his partner the time.

“Yah, look at the time!” Taehyung exclaimed, leaping off the couch. He twisted his torso and stretched. “Christ, I’m going to turn back into a pumpkin in an hour.”

“Fairy Godmother, I love your work,” Jimin sang out, and Namjoon snickered.

“We’ll see you soon, Jimin-ah. Don’t have too much fun without us,” he tacked on the end with a wink.

“Fun,” Taehyung said under his breath with a snort of laughter. Jimin stood up with one eyebrow arched, cradling Winnie.

“Fools. I’ll see you later,” Jimin said. Taehyung saluted and left first. Namjoon lingered, as he always did. He and Taehyung never left Jimin’s place together or in the same car to protect Taehyung, because the internet in South Korea would have a meltdown if Kim Taehyung turned out to be gayer than gay. Today was not the day.

“He’s handling it pretty well so far,” Namjoon said, referencing Jeongguk. Jimin smiled, still rocking Winnie in his arms.

“Well, it’s been about two and a half weeks,” he pointed out. “The distance sucks ass, but so far, so good.”

“He’s not clingy. That’s huge,” Namjoon said, and it should have sounded insulting, but he had a valid point. Many of Jimin’s exes or ex-flings clung to Jimin, likely to maintain relevancy or to feel important. But not Jeongguk. Sometimes he texted Jimin saying he was too busy at work to video call and it would have to wait twelve hours. That didn’t stop him from sending cute GIFs and memes and emojis all day, though, just to make Jimin smile.

“I never thanked you,” Jimin said as he let Winnie leap out of his arms to flop on the heated floor. He slipped his hands into his pockets. “For just trusting me and letting me go to Los Angeles for two weeks.”

“Well, you’re a grown-ass man,” Namjoon replied. “Could it have been a career killer at the height of promotion for the show? Sure. Was it? No. Did you get your one chance with Jeongguk? Yes. Did anyone die? No. So it’s a win all around.”

“I made up for my disappearance,” Jimin said with a short laugh. “Did so many interviews I almost forgot my own name.”

“And what about Jeongguk?” Namjoon shifted the book that was under his arm. “You specifically said that if we worked out a way to get you to the States, you could fall in love with him.”

“So?”

“So did you fall in love with him?”

“It’s only been a month.”

“And?”

“And I’m stupidly in love with him,” Jimin casually confessed. “As in, I love him so much that I almost can’t stand myself.”

“Are you going to tell him?” Namjoon wondered, dimples popping in his cheeks as he smiled.

“First opportune moment, yes,” Jimin replied without hesitation. “But I can’t just blurt it out. He wants a fairytale. He’s never had anything like that. So I’m going to give it to him.”

“You’re not half bad, you know?” Namjoon teased, and then he turned to the door after checking the time again. “Take care, Jimin-ah. Have fun.”

“Have fun with what, exactly?” Jimin asked. Namjoon’s response was a snicker and a coy grin, and then he disappeared into the hallway.

Silence.

Before, the silence was Jimin’s sworn enemy. Silence used to make him think, make him consider all the things he didn’t have in his life. But now, he was starting to understand the silence a little more. Now, when it was quiet, he could think about seeing Jeongguk again. He could think about how it had been eighteen days since he had last held the man he loved, kissed him, touched him, heard his laugh. 

Saying goodbye to Jeongguk was the hardest part of it all. Jimin knew he was going to have to get used to it, but that didn’t make it any easier. Living the life he lived and having to keep Jeongguk a secret was not going to be easy—

There was a knock on Jimin’s door. He glanced over at Winnie, who was still curled up on the floor, and then he snickered and padded over, knowing that his building was exceedingly secure and that it was most definitely Namjoon or Taehyung coming back because they had forgotten something, the fools.

Jimin pulled the door open. “What, did you forget something?” he said, but his voice died immediately.

There was Jeongguk, black baseball cap and a black face mask, black long winter coat, gripping the handle of a suitcase with a duffle bag on the other shoulder. Standing tall, proud, and when he pulled down his face mask to his chin, he was beaming.

“Don’t think I did, but maybe you can remind me,” he said, and Jimin let out a laugh and lunged forward, throwing his arms around Jeongguk’s neck. Jeongguk also laughed, wrapping one arm around Jimin’s waist and staggering into the apartment while dragging his suitcase. The door hit his duffle bag before it closed, and then Jeongguk abandoned his bags altogether and lifted Jimin off the ground in an embrace.

“How are you here?” Jimin breathed, and then he took Jeongguk’s face in his hands and kissed him once, twice, three times. “What—How are you—Why are you here?”

“I decided to take a vacation and see my boyfriend for Christmas,” Jeongguk said, his hands underneath Jimin’s shirt. “Seokjin picked me up at the airport, and Namjoon let me in downstairs. And I thought—I was hoping maybe I could stay here? If—”

Jimin kissed Jeongguk again, his heart soaring, hands shaking from the adrenaline rush of seeing Jeongguk like this again.

“Of course you can stay here, are you kidding?” Jimin said with a laugh. “Baby, I can’t believe you—you really just—you should have told me.”

“And ruin the surprise?” Jeongguk asked, swaying Jimin back and forth. “I planned this the moment I dropped you off at the airport. I missed you too much to not come here for Christmas.”

“It’s only been eighteen days,” Jimin said with a stifled laugh.

“Eighteen days too fucking long,” Jeongguk said with a grin. But then his face fell, and he became quite serious. “Are you sure it’s okay for me to be here? I’m here for thirty days. I’m going to visit my family, so I won’t be in your space the entire time.”

“Jeongguk.” Jimin carefully removed Jeongguk’s cap and carded his fingers through Jeongguk’s blonde hair. “It’s absolutely okay for you to be here. We’ll just need to be really careful, okay? Getting you in and out of the building. I can ask Seokjin to assign you a security detail.”

“I can stay at Hoseok’s apartment if I need to,” Jeongguk added, gently massaging Jimin’s back as he spoke. “He has a place in Bucheon, and I have access. So if I ever need to, I can lay low there, okay?”

“Okay. You’re really here,” Jimin whispered. “Tell me next time, darling.”

“Why?”

“Because I have a stupid amount of money, so I can pay for your flights and put you in business prestige,” Jimin said with a grin. “And if you’re coming here to see me, then let me cover your flights, okay?”

“Negotiable,” Jeongguk said with his eyes narrowed, and Jimin clicked his tongue. But then Jeongguk let out a dramatic gasp and crouched down. “There she is!”

Jimin watched fondly as Jeongguk knelt and introduced his hand to Winnie as Winnie approached curiously, back arching. Then she brushed up against Jeongguk’s hand with a meow, arching her head, and Jeongguk dove in, stroking her soft black fur and scratching behind her little ears.

“Oh, you’re so precious, look at you,” he cooed. “You’re the prettiest little kitten. I wish Tigger could meet you. You’d be best friends.”

Winnie meowed in approval, wrapping herself around Jeongguk’s ankles as Jeongguk straightened up, and then he slipped his hand into Jimin’s and pulled him closer. Jimin was still so stunned that Jeongguk was standing in his apartment that he couldn’t find the words.

 “I missed you,” Jeongguk said, leaning in to rest his forehead against Jimin’s forehead.

“I missed you, too,” Jimin whispered, tilting his head for a kiss that Jeongguk granted. It was a soft, sweet kiss at first, but then Jeongguk wrapped both hands around Jimin’s hips and deepened the kiss. He opened his mouth and let Jimin trace his lip ring before diving back in for another kiss, their bodies pressed together. Jimin’s heart corkscrewed as he inhaled sharply, desperate to taste Jeongguk after weeks of craving. He suddenly felt frantic, felt the itch under his skin that only Jeongguk could scratch.

“Bedroom,” Jeongguk gasped between kisses, but Jimin was already tugging Jeongguk and stumbling backwards. He used his foot to nudge his bedroom door open, and Jeongguk followed him in, both of them still leaving messy, open-mouthed kisses on each other’s lips with fumbling hands all over. Jimin felt completely out of control, trying to feed an addiction as Jeongguk shrugged his coat to the floor.

“Can’t believe I went eighteen days without touching you,” Jimin whispered, pulling Jeongguk’s shirt off and discarding it onto the floor. He pulled his own shirt off as well, and then they both collapsed onto the bed, tangled up with one another. They rolled, hands exploring as they kissed until Jimin felt like his lips were swollen, undressing one another as clothing fell to the floor in a cascade of black and cashmere.

“Is now a bad time to say that I got off several times just thinking about you? I’m fighting for my life, here,” Jeongguk admitted, and Jimin let out a soft laugh, letting Jeongguk roll the two of them again until Jimin was propped up against the pillows.

“Don’t say things like that,” Jimin said breathlessly, his heart in his throat as he watched Jeongguk crawl towards him. “Drives me fucking crazy just thinking about it— oh.”

Jimin’s head fell back onto the pillows, his hands slipping on the sheets as Jeongguk bent down between his legs. Jeongguk left a fiery trail of kisses up the inside of Jimin’s thigh, and then he moved and kissed down the other thigh. Jimin’s hands curled into fists, and then he let out a moan when Jeongguk took Jimin’s cock into his mouth, tongue wrapping around the shaft immediately.

“Baby,” he gasped. “B-Baby, you just—you don’t have to—”

Jeongguk pulled off and replaced his mouth with his hand briefly, glancing up at Jimin with those beautiful eyes that Jimin adored so much. “This isn’t about what I have to do. This is what I want to do. As long as you fuck me after this.”

“With pleasure,” Jimin choked out as Jeongguk went down on him again. Jimin carefully threaded his fingers through Jeongguk’s hair, looking down at him in disbelief, his toes curling as the heat pooled in his stomach. Jeongguk was effortlessly good at driving Jimin wild, Jimin had come to find out. He seemed to just know. He was a fast learner, and it was infuriating in the most satisfying way.

Jimin fumbled and reached for his bedside table drawer, missing the handle several times as he lifted his hips up towards Jeongguk’s mouth. He finally managed to grab the lube and a condom, and Jeongguk took the lube and got to work quickly, his mouth still on Jimin as he reached behind to prep himself.

Everything seemed to be happening in double time, and all Jimin wanted to do was slow down and savor the moment. He was afraid of closing his eyes or blinking, because he didn’t want to miss a single second of what was happening. Fifteen minutes ago, he had never imagined that Jeongguk would be in his bed and between his legs, kissing his stomach. Now, it felt like Jeongguk had come home, even if it was the first time he had stepped foot in Jimin’s apartment.

It was bizarre, having Jeongguk fully in his life now. It had started out as a silly fantasy, a crush that should have been fleeting, and now he had this beautiful man spread out on his ivory bedsheets, eyes sparkling but tinged with dark desire as he waited to be ravished. Jimin had always subconsciously put a time limit on his relationships, always expecting them to end. But not with Jeongguk. Not this time.

“Babe, just fuck me,” Jeongguk moaned, and Jimin almost dramatically admitted to blacking out for a brief moment. He settled between Jeongguk’s legs and slid a pillow beneath his hips, and Jeongguk adapted like he had done it a thousand times. With his hands splayed on Jeongguk’s abdomen, Jimin slowly pushed in, gritting his teeth, head hanging.

“God, you feel so good, you’re—oh my God,” Jimin breathed, and then he bent and latched onto Jeongguk’s neck, sucking a bruise there as he rocked his hips forward, situating himself, feeling the vibrations of Jeongguk’s moans against his lips. “I missed you.”

“I-Imagine what it’ll be like when we fuck after being a-apart for more than a few weeks,” Jeongguk said, swallowing heavily as his eyes rolled back when Jimin finally began to fuck him. “God, keep going, come on. Been thinking about you fucking me for days, hyung, just—”

Jimin wanted to call it cinematic, the way they moved together. Jeongguk’s legs wrapped around his waist, Jimin’s hand wrapped around Jeongguk’s cock, both of their hips seemed to know exactly what to do, and they kissed like they were starving even in the midst of having their fill. Jimin’s apartment was on the twelfth and top floor and on a corner, and he had a floor-to-ceiling window in his bedroom looking out onto the river—the perfect landscape for what they were about to accomplish.

Jeongguk seemed to get the silent message that Jimin didn’t want to rush anything. He held on as long as he could, gripping Jimin’s hair as they kissed in slow motion, tracing lines on Jimin’s body with his longer fingers as Jimin kissed down the column of Jeongguk’s neck, breathless. There was very little need for excessive conversation, which was a luxury; it was a sign of comfort between the two of them, Jimin decided, knowing that they could be this intimate so naturally.

“Hyung, please,” Jeongguk gasped out. “I need to come. I’m—I can’t—”

“Don’t call me that,” Jimin whispered, still dragging his lips across the love bites he had left on Jeongguk’s perfect skin. “Not here. Use my name. Please.”

“Jimin-ah,” Jeongguk moaned, and Jimin had a full-body reaction. He caged Jeongguk in, fingers tangled in his blonde hair, and began to fuck him with vigor, watching the way Jeongguk’s body moved against the sheets, clocking his rapid breathing and the choked moans escaping from the back of his throat, body on fire when he heard his name fall from Jeongguk’s lips again and again. He felt Jeongguk tighten around him, heard Jeongguk’s pleas and the final gasp of “Jimin-ah,” and that was all it took. Jeongguk scratched his fingernails down Jimin’s ribs, back arching off the bed as he came untouched, Jimin still fucking him so deeply that he knew he was hitting exactly the right spot. And Jeongguk didn’t have to lift a finger, because just seeing the pleasure he derived from it set Jimin off, too. He let out a small gasp and thrusted roughly into Jeongguk as he came, seeing stars in his eyes as Jeongguk clenched around him repeatedly.

There was a moment afterwards where Jimin felt like he was out of his body. His chest was burning from exertion in the best way, body thrumming, and when he collapsed, he could feel Jeongguk’s heart pounding against his chest. Breathless, he turned his head and pressed his lips to Jeongguk’s throat, dazedly using his free hand to stroke Jeongguk’s hair as Jeongguk caught his breath, his hands falling on Jimin’s lower back.

“Roll,” Jeongguk murmured. Jimin smiled, and he obliged and rolled the two of them so that Jeongguk was lying on top of him. The sticky mess they had made between them didn’t appear to matter right now. Jeongguk seemed intent on leaving his mark on whatever skin he could find, his lips trailing across Jimin’s collarbone lazily and quietly.

“I can’t believe this is real,” Jimin whispered in a daze. “That I really met you almost a year ago. That I fell this hard for you. That I have you like this. That you came to see me.”

“You know how crazy it was?” Jeongguk murmured, his face still buried in Jimin’s neck. “That I planned a trip to visit Park Jimin, who happens to be my boyfriend? Just walked right through the door and got fucked. Living the dream.”

“Well, not to be dramatic, but you’re the best fuck I’ve ever had, so,” Jimin teased, and Jeongguk snorted lazily with laughter, scooting and shimmying until he was lying with his head turned sideways on Jimin’s chest. Jimin gently stroked his hair, feeling so at peace that he could have fallen asleep.

“Did we just give all of Cheongdam-dong a very not-safe-for-work show?” Jeongguk murmured, and Jimin snickered.

“No.” He rolled his head over towards the windows, smiling. It felt foolish to admit it, but he had always dreamed of the day when he could ravish his partner in his bed in front of the window with a beautiful view of the city and the river at nighttime. “My windows are tinted. You can’t see into my apartment from the outside. But we have a great view.”

“Mm. That’s a shame. Reconsider,” Jeongguk said. “Stroke game so good you should charge for viewing.”

“You’re the worst,” Jimin sighed as Jeongguk laughed quietly. They both settled in again, perfectly content despite the mess they had made, and it took only three minutes for Jeongguk’s breathing to change, a clear indicator that he had dozed off. Jimin closed his eyes and embraced the man he loved tighter, dropping a kiss to his hair.

He was going to have to confess his love as soon as possible. He wasn’t sure if he could hold it in much longer.

INT. JIMIN’S APARTMENT – NIGHT

It’s Christmas Eve. JEONGGUK has been away for almost two days thanks to paparazzi camping outside the apartment. JIMIN is frustrated but still preparing to confess his love tonight.

“Yeah, well, if we have to call in the big guns, we will.”  

“You know they’re just fishing for something because it’s close to Christmas,” Namjoon said over the phone. Jimin could hear him shifting around in the kitchen of his own apartment. “I mean, come on. You could be the Dispatch couple next month. The chances are low but never zero.”

“I’d rather eat glass,” Jimin said, quoting Jeongguk. “Fuck, I’m so frustrated. I mean, the way they pounced on me yesterday.”

“Jimin-ssi-i-i-i, are you going to Gayo Daejun?” Namjoon mocked in a nasally voice. “I already fucking confirmed your lack of attendance a week ago.”

“I don’t know why they keep inviting me to a damn music festival.”

“Jimin, they’ve been asking you to host the Mnet Asian Music Awards for three years now.”

“And I take great joy in turning them down.”

“Anyways, Seokjin said he’s on his way with Jeongguk,” Namjoon said with laughter in his voice. “Is that still okay? Are you prepared?”

“I’m prepared.” Jimin took a deep breath and glanced around at the scene he had set, and then he smiled. “Thanks, hyung. Merry Christmas.”

“Yeah. Merry Christmas to you, too. Love you.” And then Namjoon hung up at lightning speed before Jimin could question the sentiment or respond, which made Jimin burst out laughing. He fired off a quick I love you too text to Namjoon, and then he pocketed his phone and began to fuss over his scene.

Everything had to be perfect. There was not a doubt in his mind that “I love you” was on the tip of Jeongguk’s tongue, too, given the few slip-ups that had occurred over the last few days. A bit of stumbling, a lot of adoring gazes swapped, and sex that was borderline making love—there was no way that Jeongguk wasn’t feeling what Jimin was feeling, too. And Jimin didn’t just want to come out and say it randomly. He wanted to give Jeongguk the true romantic experience, just as he deserved.

“Hmm?” Jimin hummed, pulling his phone out. Seokjin had texted him.

PROFESSIONAL DILF AND BRAT TAMER [09:48:29PM]

He’s in the elevator on his way up. 

PROFESSIONAL DILF AND BRAT TAMER [09:48:29PM]

He has flowers that he’s trying to hide but failing miserably lololol he’s so cute

Jimin texted back his thanks, and then he tossed his phone aside and rubbed his palms together nervously. He had cut out the harsh lighting, opting for softer lighting to set the mood. He had an expensive bottle of champagne off to the side for the hell of it. The entire apartment smelled like a Christmas tree, thanks to a candle (they had decorated Jimin’s fake tree four days ago together). And on the floor, leading from the door to the living room area where Jimin was waiting, were rose petals.

Jimin heard the keypad of his front door beeping. Jeongguk knew the code. It changed every single week for security purposes, but he knew this week’s code because it was his birthday. The door buzzed and clicked, and then Jimin heard a little grunt.

“Oh, it’s darker, are—Jimin hyung? Are you…?”

Jeongguk’s voice tapered off as he sidled into the apartment, the door falling closed. He had a large leather handbag on one shoulder, and Jimin could see flowers sticking out of it, but Jeongguk shrugged the bag to the floor and abandoned it when he saw Jimin standing across the room.

“W-What’s this? What’s going on?” he asked, noticeably confused.

“Come here, my love,” Jimin said softly, and he didn’t miss the way Jeongguk almost stumbled.

“Huh?”

“Come here,” Jimin said as the fondness seeped into his voice, knowing that the term of endearment he had just used was likely a dead giveaway but also banking on Jeongguk being too stunned to make sense of it. He stepped forward, eyes wandering around the room, wide and full of stars.

“What is this?” Jeongguk asked, still gazing around as he stepped into Jimin’s space, immediately wrapping his hands around Jimin’s waist as Jimin loosely circled Jeongguk’s neck with his arms. “What…?”

“Jeongguk,” Jimin said gently, attempting to regain Jeongguk’s attention. With his hands still on Jimin’s waist, Jeongguk stopped gazing around the room in a stupor and finally looked at Jimin. His eyes were round and shining with something Jimin couldn’t quite pinpoint, like he was in a state of disbelief about the scene Jimin had set. 

“What…?”

“Jeongguk,” Jimin said again, one arm draped around Jeongguk’s shoulder, the other pressed to his chest. “Baby, I love you.”

It all then seemed to click for Jeongguk; Jimin could see the realization dawn on him that the trail of rose petals was meant for him, meant for this very moment. 

“D-Did you—? Did you put rose petals down just to say that you love me?” Jeongguk stammered quietly, head tilted to the side. Jimin nodded with a small smile, his heart still racing. “Ah. Wow.”

Jimin almost cracked a joke in his state of anxiety, in anticipation of hearing the sentiment in return, but then Jeongguk’s face suddenly crumpled, and he lifted one hand to his mouth and tried to turn away. Jimin let out a soft laugh and pulled Jeongguk closer to him in an embrace, raking his fingers through Jeongguk’s hair affectionately.

“Why are you crying?” Jimin asked with the same soft laughter. “Jeon Jeongguk, don’t you cry. Stop that, stop, baby, what is it? Why are you crying?”

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Jeongguk rambled apologetically. “Shit, I’m sorry, I—I didn’t mean to cry, it’s just—”

Jimin could feel the fondness in his smile as he carefully secured his sweater sleeve in his palm, and then he lifted his hand and used the edge of his thumb to wipe away Jeongguk’s tears, cupping the back of his head with the other hand. He pressed a quick kiss to the tip of Jeongguk’s nose and then his lips. “Don’t cry,” he whispered.

“It’s just that—” Jeongguk gulped down some air and swallowed heavily, eyes still bloodshot as he looked at Jimin. “It’s so stupid, but no one’s ever done anything like this for me before. I’ve never had—this is—”

Jimin cut him off with a kiss, desperate for Jeongguk to understand exactly how much he was loved, how far Jimin had fallen, how committed he was to the love he had found. His hand was resting on Jeongguk’s cheek, and he felt a tear drip onto his thumb. Hastily, he wiped it away, and then he pressed three quick, consecutive kisses to Jeongguk’s lips.

“Do you know how much it hurts me to know that no one has ever done this for you before? Baby, I’ll do it every single day until you understand exactly how much I love you. Do you hear me? I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Jeongguk whispered against Jimin’s lips with a breathy laugh, leaning into the kiss. Jimin wrapped Jeongguk up in his arms as Jeongguk’s hands pressed to the small of his back, and there were very few moments in Jimin’s life that he felt could compare to giving love and receiving it back in full bloom. This euphoric feeling was nothing Jimin had ever experienced before.

“You got me flowers,” Jimin whispered, still rocking Jeongguk back and forth gently.

“Y-Yeah, I did,” Jeongguk croaked, laughing as he sniffed. “God, I can’t believe you did all this just to—is that champagne?”

“Expensive champagne, and we’re drinking it after I see those flowers,” Jimin declared.

“God, I love you,” Jeongguk sighed, tears drying as he leaned in and kissed Jimin firmly. “Seriously. You’re a fucking dream come true. I can’t believe you love me.”

“I can’t believe you love me,” Jimin emphasized all the same. “I must have saved a nation in my past life.”

“You saved all the nations,” Jeongguk said mostly to himself, but Jimin heard it and smiled, watching Jeongguk crouch before he emerged with the flowers he had brought. “Look, I made this for you.”

“Ah, wow. Jeongguk, it’s beautiful,” Jimin breathed, and Jeongguk beamed, handing over the beautiful flower arrangement with red, white, and green flowers.

“I figured I was going to be bored today, so I went to a little workshop with Hoseok’s sister to make flower arrangements,” Jeongguk explained. “And I knew I had to make one for you.”

“It’s gorgeous, baby. Thank you.”

“I love you,” Jeongguk said, his tone shy, as if he was testing it all out to make sure that he wasn’t hallucinating. Jimin slid over in his socks, still clutching the flowers, and kissed Jeonguk sweetly. 

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he whispered against Jeongguk’s lips. “I love you, too.”

And what could Jimin possibly compare to the happiness he was experiencing in real time? He and Jeongguk popped the champagne and drank it together. They sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the Christmas tree and kissed for what felt like hours as the lights twinkled. They exchanged gifts and gag gifts, which only proved Jeongguk’s wicked sense of humor and his inability to give a fuck about Jimin being a celebrity (the questionable fleshlight had Jimin crying in laughter). And every five minutes, one of them said “I love you,” and it never grew old.

Jeongguk kept whispering little comments for the rest of the week, even into New Year’s Eve—“I can’t believe this is my life” and “It’s actually disgusting how much I love you” and “I think I’m less anxious about dating a bonafide celebrity now” and “Hyung, when we get married, I don’t want to plan my own wedding ceremony.” He was stream-of-consciousness and sweet as sugar, and Jimin determinedly reciprocated, making sure that Jeongguk understood just how much he was loved even when they were apart.

It wasn’t until the first close call that Jeongguk was truly shaken up. In the first week of the new year, when Jeongguk was minding his business and letting himself into Jimin’s apartment building, he was approached and questioned. In what could have been a stupid move, Seokjin leapt out of the car and came to Jeongguk’s defense, subsequently making up a lie that he had just pulled up to visit Jimin, and that the media needed to stop harassing this “random man.” Seokjin had then escorted Jeongguk to Jimin’s apartment, where Jeongguk had collapsed in Jimin’s arms crying.

“I don’t know, I don’t know. I thought I could handle this, but I don’t know if I can. I don’t know.”

It had taken every ounce of willpower Jimin had to not make a statement, because seeing Jeongguk pale and crying out of fear thanks to the reality of his situation made Jimin’s blood boil. But instead of dwelling on it, Jimin chose to lie in bed with Jeongguk all day the next day, Winnie snuggled up with them, and they talked. They talked, shared their fears and hopes and dreams and all the things that they had skimmed over before. 

Jeongguk was afraid of being abandoned. Jimin was afraid of becoming irrelevant. Jeongguk utterly loathed that he couldn’t share anything about his relationship with Jimin. Jimin was desperate to show Jeongguk off to the world but couldn’t. Jeongguk feared he wasn’t good enough for Jimin. Jimin feared he wasn’t good enough for Jeongguk.

But somewhere in the midst of all the chitchat, they both realized how much love they shared between them. It had bloomed so quickly and so unexpectedly, but so beautifully. Jimin still couldn’t believe that it had only taken him a few weeks to fall deeply in love with the goofy, fumbling wedding planner with a mischievous sense of humor who hated wearing shoes in his office. Now he couldn’t imagine ever letting Jeongguk go. This was the real deal. As surreal as it felt, as fast as they were moving, Jimin knew that he and Jeongguk were both in this for life.

“I’ll watch from the safety of your couch. Winnie will watch with me,” Jeongguk murmured, still only half-awake. They had been dozing all day long, since it was snowing and neither of them wanted to get out of bed. They had just three more days to relax, and then Jimin had to attend the Baeksang Arts Awards.

“You think I’ll win?” Jimin whispered.

“If you don’t, I’m going straight to the internet to post my irrelevant opinion for a total of seventeen likes in hopes of being ratioed hard by netizens,” Jeongguk declared, and Jimin snorted, nuzzling into Jeongguk’s neck with his eyes closed. “Win or lose, baby, you’re still the best actor I’ve ever known. And I love you. And hey, I never would have met you if not for Minor Altar-cations.”

“If not for Yoongi.”

“Don’t say his name, he’ll hear,” Jeongguk groaned. “He’ll never let me live it down.”

“Well, I’m forever in his debt,” Jimin stated. “Because that one little email led me straight to you. Straight to the love of my life.”

“I’m hissing at you in my head,” Jeongguk mumbled, too tired to say much more. “Always hissing at you.”

“Get your feet off my legs. They’re cold.”

“No. This satisfies my foot fetish.”

“I’ll shove my foot up your ass to satisfy your foot fetish.”

“You have such a way with words.”

They both tiredly laughed, and then Jeongguk’s hand came to rest over Jimin’s heart comfortably. 

“I feel better. I’m not as scared anymore.”

“Today, or overall?”

“Both,” Jeongguk decided. “I don’t know, hyung. At this point, I love you so much that even if the world found out, I would go through with it a thousand times.”

“Well.” Jimin opened his eyes and stroked Jeongguk’s hair. “You know what?”

“What?”

“It scared me at first, the way I fell in love with you. I thought I was rushing it. I thought I was doing it wrong. But then I realized that there’s no right way to fall in love. If it’s the right person, the feeling comes effortlessly. And you’re the right person,” Jimin declared.

“Even if I started out as just a hopeless romantic fanboy?”

“Oh, baby. Because you started out as a hopeless romantic fanboy,” Jimin said with a grin. “You’re an angel. And I promise you—” Jimin kissed the top of Jeongguk’s head— “that I’m going to fulfill all of your romantic hopes and dreams with a vengeance. I won’t rest until we tick all the boxes. I’m going to love you so hard that you’ll be sick of me.”

“Never. You’re too good to be true.”

“I’m not fucking around,” Jimin muttered firmly. “Not at all. I want this. I love you more than anything in the world, Jeongguk. I’m in this one hundred percent.”

“Well, I’m in this one hundred and ten percent,” Jeongguk countered. “And wait until you hear how much I love you. It’ll blow your mind.”

Jimin grinned. “I’m all ears. But first—get up here and kiss me, you fool.”

Jeongguk did. And Jimin swore he could feel flowers and happiness blooming in his chest.

~ ~ ~

MUSIC CUE: “be right now” by ed sheeran

[NEWS] SHINING STAR PARK JIMIN, BEST ACTOR AND MOST POPULAR ACTOR AT THE BAEKSANG ARTS AWARDS… “I’M HAPPIER THAN I HAVE EVER BEEN IN MY LIFE!”

Comments:

[+4178, -19] South Korea’s best actor!!! He deserves to be happy all the time!!!
[+2983, -4] I’m pretending that he’s happy because he fell in love with someone hehehehe

~ ~ ~

[ARTICLE] #1 IN BRAND REPUTATION ACTOR PARK JIMIN DEPARTS FOR LOS ANGELES… FREQUENT TRIPS! NEW PROJECT IN THE WORKS?

~ ~ ~

[BREAKING] JIMIN IN AN EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW WITH GQ KOREA: “I NEVER KNEW BEING IN LOVE WITH THE RIGHT PERSON COULD BE SO REWARDING” ACTOR CONFIRMS HE IS NO LONGER SINGLE AND FANS SPECULATE

Comments:

[+3191, -144] I have a feeling that he’s dating another man hehehehe just a hunch… it just seems like he’d be happiest with another man!
[+1892, -49] all the girls on Instagram and Twitter are mourning their loss lol especially if he’s dating a man and not a woman
[+672, -15] Our Jiminie is a catch, as expected!!! He’s so handsome I could cry

~ ~ ~

[BREAKING NEWS] TOP ACTOR PARK JIMIN SEEN AT CHRISTMAS FESTIVAL IN DAEGU HAND-IN-HAND WITH MASKED MYSTERY MAN!

Comments:

[+4366, -346] Wow awesome… look how much Jimin is smiling… his mystery man is hugging him so tightly ㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠ I hope they don’t pay attention to any of the hate!!!!
[+3859, -2] If anyone harasses them or threatens their happiness, I will single-handedly take you down like don’t you DARE these are my PARENTS
[+3004, -112] I KNEW HE WAS DATING ANOTHER MAN, LOOK AT THAT HAND HOLDING, THEY’RE IN LOVE!!!!
[+1283, -77] lololol our parents’ generation is weeping seeing a famous Korean icon holding hands with another man
[+910, -15] Jimin dating a man, this is the best day of my life sorry Mom

~ ~ ~

[NEWS] NEW ROLE… 31-YEAR-OLD PARK JIMIN CAST AS LEAD IN NEW THRILLER BY BONG JOON HO, NETIZENS ARE THRILLED

Comments:

[+1724, -9] KOREA’S BEST ACTOR PARK JIMIN!!!! LEGEND RECOGNIZES LEGEND!!!!
[+855, -5] I see an Oscar in our Jiminie’s future…!!!!

~ ~ ~

[PHOTOS] PARK JIMIN DEPARTS FROM INCHEON AIRPORT FOR LOS ANGELES WITH MYSTERY BOYFRIEND BY HIS SIDE: SEE EXCLUSIVE PHOTOS AND VIDEO

Comments:

[+2350, -15] Wow, amazing… they’re really in love, look how he protects Jimin ㅠㅠㅠ
[+1545, -13] Not a single person has talked about how Jimin’s boyfriend has tattoos on his hands hehehehe awesome, I knew Jimin would date someone cool

~ ~ ~

[EXCLUSIVE!] BREAKING NEWS: PARK JIMIN’S MYSTERY MAN FINALLY REVEALS HIMSELF! 29-YEAR-OLD WEDDING PLANNER JEON JEONGGUK, COUPLE MET DURING PRE-PRODUCTION FOR MINOR ALTAR-CATIONS; NETIZENS REACT!

Comments:

[+5002, -49] Oh heaven help us all, his boyfriend is a tattooed, pierced hunk of pure sex
[+4114, -14] Wow, this is the wedding planner he thanked in the credits of Minor Altar-cations!!! They met on-set and fell in love ㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠ
[+2083, -3] THE WEDDING PLANNER? It’s giving Yoo Jihoon vibes 
[+1355, -12] hehehehehe why am I not surprised that Jimin is dating a man like this
[+852, -4] Does this man have nail polish on? And all those piercings? Seriously, his bone structure? Suddenly I don’t think I’m straight anymore hehehehehe

~ ~ ~

[NEWS] BELOVED ACTOR PARK JIMIN NOMINATED FOR 2 SAG AWARDS… ANOTHER TRIP TO AMERICA

~ ~ ~

[EXCLUSIVE] SEE PHOTOS FROM THE SAG AWARDS RED CARPET: PARK JIMIN PARADES LONG-TIME BOYFRIEND AS HIS GUEST AND NETIZENS ARE OBSESSED

Comments:

[+1914, -4] omg they really are a dream couple, they’re both so pretty ㅠㅠ
[+1349, -11] Imagine walking the red carpet with Park Jimin, I don’t know how Jeon Jeongguk is keeping it together lololol

~ ~ ~

[BREAKING NEWS] PARK JIMIN’S SHOCKING ANNOUNCEMENT: MARRIED PARTNER OF 2 YEARS IN SMALL, QUIET CALIFORNIA CEREMONY

~ ~ ~

[ARTICLE] SOCIAL MEDIA HAS A MELTDOWN AS 32-YEAR-OLD BELOVED KOREAN ACTOR PARK JIMIN ANNOUNCES HE MARRIED PARTNER OF 2 YEARS WEDDING PLANNER JEON JEONGGUK IN A PRIVATE CEREMONY IN CALIFORNIA

South Korea’s most beloved actor, Park Jimin, 32, is a married man.

The surprise announcement came via social media and was confirmed soon thereafter by Jimin’s agency. The actor tied the knot with his partner in a small ceremony in California on May 13, where they were permitted to wed by law.

Sources say that Jeon Jeongguk did not plan his own wedding. The 30-year-old wedding planner from Los Angeles confirmed this in an Instagram story, saying: “ㅋㅋㅋㅋ I only had one rule, and that was that I would not plan my own wedding! Hyung planned it all ㅋㅋㅋㅋ ” 

The ceremony was reportedly outdoors and in a garden, scaled back and private at the grooms’ request for a more intimate setting. Sources say that only immediate family and close friends attended the ceremony.

Kim Taehyung, celebrated actor and Jimin’s best friend, was also at the ceremony. In an Instagram post accompanied by photos, he said: “Today I gave my soulmate over to a pretty incredible man!”

Netizens are reacting positively to the news, and sentiments of support and love for the newly married couple are pouring in on social media. Despite a handful of negative comments regarding Jimin’s sexuality (the actor came out as bisexual 7 years ago), netizens are thrilled that their favorite actor has found love.

On his Instagram with a series of stunning photos (credited to LA-based photographer Min Yoongi), Jimin said: “ Today, I married my best friend. Jeongguk, I never knew I could love anyone so profoundly until I met you. The world is beautiful because you’re in it. Here’s to forever!”

In a separate Instagram post on his public page, Jeongguk wrote: “Secured my man for life!”

The couple will reportedly split their time between Los Angeles and Seoul for the foreseeable future.

END.