Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The afternoon sun poured through the living room windows, casting golden light across the soft beige walls and the vase of fresh lilies on the coffee table—Jungkook’s favorite. The apartment was quiet, peaceful. A rare day off. Jimin sat on the couch, his fingers gently laced with Jungkook’s, resting between them. There was music playing softly from the kitchen, a love song neither of them were really listening to. They were simply enjoying the silence, the kind that only comes after years of healing.

Then the phone rang.

Jungkook flinched slightly. Jimin squeezed his hand and reached for the phone.

“Park Jimin speaking.”

The voice on the other end was calm. Too calm.

“Mr. Park, this is Seoul General. We’re calling regarding Kim Taehyung. He’s awake.”

For a second, everything around Jimin froze. The warmth of the sun disappeared. The music faded. The world tilted.

“Wh-what?”

“Kim Taehyung regained consciousness thirty minutes ago. He’s stable but confused. He keeps asking for someone named Jungkook.”

Jimin felt Jungkook stiffen beside him. He was already pale, eyes wide, as if he knew exactly what had been said without hearing a word.

The phone slipped from Jimin’s hand, landing with a soft thud on the floor.

---

Seoul General Hospital

The air was too sterile, too bright. The scent of antiseptic clung to everything. Jungkook walked ahead, fast, his steps too rushed, too eager. Jimin followed, his chest tight, eyes never leaving Jungkook’s back.

It had been five years. Five long years since the accident. Since the night they thought they'd lost Taehyung forever. Jungkook never really stopped hoping. Jimin had tried to help him let go.

Now, none of it mattered.

They stopped outside Room 508. The nurse gave them a gentle nod and pushed the door open.

There he was.

Kim Taehyung.

Alive. Awake. Eyes open, blinking against the light.

And when those familiar brown eyes landed on Jungkook, they lit up with recognition. With love.

“Jungkook…” Taehyung breathed, his voice rough, broken from disuse. “You came… baby, I had the weirdest dream…”

Jungkook froze.

Jimin could only stare, heart shattering slowly in his chest.

Taehyung didn’t know.

He didn’t know five years had passed.

He didn’t know Jungkook wasn’t his anymore.

And Jimin realized, in that moment, they weren’t ready for this. Not at all.

Chapter Text

𝙛𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠𝙨

The sun was warm, the grass was itchy, and Jungkook’s laughter echoed across the park like a bell.

Jimin ran across the field barefoot, arms flailing as he chased after a red rubber ball that had rolled too far down the hill. “Kookie! Watch the edge!”

Five-year-old Jungkook didn’t listen. He was too busy shrieking with excitement as he tumbled after the ball, his tiny legs pumping like he was in a race with the wind.

Behind them, Taehyung was on all fours, pretending to be a dinosaur. “I’m gonna eat your toes!” he roared, a flower crown slipping sideways on his head.

“Nooo!” Jungkook screamed, eyes wide with delight, tripping right into Jimin’s arms.

Got him.

Jimin held Jungkook close, both of them collapsing into the grass with a thud. Jungkook immediately started giggling, the bright sound muffled against Jimin’s shoulder.

“You okay?” Jimin asked, brushing dirt off the younger boy’s chubby cheeks.

“Mhm!” Jungkook grinned, cheeks pink and dimple deep. “You saved me, hyung!”

“Of course I did,” Jimin said proudly, then gave his head a gentle pat. “You’re my baby bunny.”

Taehyung flopped down next to them with dramatic flair, arms spread wide. “I’m a tired dinosaur now. Dinosaurs need snacks.”

Jimin snorted. “You just want Jungkook’s cookies.”

“Nooo,” Taehyung grinned, already sneaking one from Jungkook’s lunchbox when the omega wasn’t looking.

From under the shade of a nearby tree, their parents watched with fond smiles and cold drinks in hand. Jimin’s mom held up an old camcorder, zooming in to catch them mid-laugh, while Taehyung’s dad cheered when the boys piled onto each other in a playful wrestle.

“Kookie, don’t bite Tae!” Jimin shouted, horrified.

“You said I’m a bunny!” Jungkook argued, mouth full of cookie. “Bunnies nibble!”

The grass was full of their footprints, their noise, their innocence.

Jimin laid back in the sun, chest rising and falling, little Jungkook sprawled across his stomach like a sun-warmed kitten. Taehyung was picking flowers beside them, trying to make a new crown.

In that moment, there were no broken hearts.
No time lost.
Just laughter, sunlight, and grass stains.

And three boys who didn’t know yet how much they’d mean to each other—how much they’d hurt, heal, and grow.

Chapter Text

𝙋𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙩

“Baby, you look older,” Taehyung laughed softly, brushing his fingers through Jungkook’s hair. “Still beautiful though… my beautiful omega.”

Jungkook couldn’t speak. He tried, but his throat clenched around the words.

His hand was still resting in Taehyung’s, and it took everything in him not to pull away. Taehyung’s voice—sleepy and warm—was the same as five years ago. His eyes shone with the same love. The love that once used to be Jungkook’s entire world.

But it wasn’t anymore.

Across the room, Jimin stood frozen.

He had smiled when the doctor said Taehyung woke up. His knees nearly gave out from relief when he heard Tae’s voice again. But now, that joy was splintering.

Because the way Taehyung looked at Jungkook—like nothing had changed—was a knife twisting slowly in Jimin’s chest.

Taehyung’s gaze drifted to him. “Jimin-ah… what happened? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I…” Jimin opened his mouth, but no sound came.

“You okay?” Taehyung asked, frowning.

Before Jimin could respond, the door opened again. Dr. Nam stepped in, his presence calm but firm. “Taehyung-ssi, I’m glad to see you awake. We need to talk about your condition—and a few things you may not remember.”

Taehyung blinked. “Condition? What do you mean?”

The atmosphere shifted instantly.

“Taehyung-ssi,” the doctor continued gently, “you’ve been in a coma for five years. The accident happened during your final year in college.”

Taehyung stared at him. “Five… years?”

Silence.

His hand tightened around Jungkook’s, eyes darting between the two of them. “That’s not… no. No, I just saw Jungkook before the party. We were going to the festival. I—no, that can’t be right.”

“I understand this is disorienting,” Dr. Nam said, stepping closer. “It’s normal to feel confused. That’s why we’re here to help you adjust gradually.”

“No,” Taehyung shook his head. “Why are you all acting weird? Jungkook’s here. We’re together. Right?”

Jungkook opened his mouth, but the pain in his chest made it hard to breathe.

Jimin took a step forward unconsciously—wanting to catch him, stop him, protect him somehow—but he was too far away. From all of them.

Dr. Nam turned toward the two alphas. “Can I speak with one of you privately?”

Jimin met his gaze.

“Mr. Park,” the doctor said gently, “could you step outside with me?”

Jimin nodded, silently walking toward the door. He could feel Jungkook’s eyes on his back, and Taehyung’s confused stare burning into him.

As the door shut behind him, Jimin realized something terrifying:

The hardest part wasn’t that Taehyung had forgotten the last five years.

It was that none of them could afford to remember them out loud.

Chapter Text

𝙁𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠𝙨

Taehyung was leaning against the lockers again, hair a little messy and smile a little too charming. A group of girls giggled just a few feet away, whispering behind their hands like it wasn’t obvious they were talking about him.

“Oppa, are you going to the music festival this weekend?” one asked, tilting her head too sweetly.

Taehyung just laughed, tossing his bangs back like he was in a commercial. “Maybe. If my friends are.”

From behind a nearby pillar, Jungkook peeked out, eyes wide and cheeks puffed in a silent pout as he watched the scene unfold.

Jimin walked beside him with a binder hugged to his chest, casting a glance at the younger omega. He sighed, then nudged his shoulder gently. “Don’t stare, Kookie. You’ll hurt your neck.”

“I’m not staring,” Jungkook mumbled, but his voice was too soft to be convincing.

Jimin chuckled. “He’s just being friendly. You know how he is.”

“I know,” Jungkook muttered. “But sometimes it feels like… I don’t know. Like he’s getting further away.”

Jimin paused. He turned to face Jungkook, gently reaching out to fix his slightly crooked backpack strap with quiet care. “People grow up and drift a little. But real friends don’t disappear, Kook. He still always comes back to us, right?”

Jungkook nodded, then looked up at Jimin.

Jimin’s features were warm under the fluorescent lights, the edge of responsibility on his brow softened by the kindness in his eyes. He always looked at Jungkook like he mattered. Like he was worth protecting.

Jungkook had always clung to Taehyung’s warmth, to his attention, to the way he made him laugh until his stomach hurt. But Jimin? Jimin was a constant—steady, thoughtful, gentle. He was the one who carried extra snacks because he knew Jungkook often forgot to eat. He was the one who reminded him to bring an umbrella when it rained. He was the one who stayed, quietly, without asking for anything back.

Sometimes, Jungkook wondered what he would’ve done without Jimin.

He just didn’t know how to say that out loud.

As if summoned, Taehyung jogged over, grin splitting across his face as soon as he saw them. “There you guys are! I’ve been looking for you.”

“You were surrounded,” Jimin teased.

“I wasn’t surrounded,” Taehyung laughed. “They were just asking about the festival.”

Jungkook looked up at him. “Are we going?”

“Only if you come too,” Taehyung beamed, reaching out to ruffle Jungkook’s hair. “Wouldn’t be fun without you.”

Jungkook’s cheeks turned a soft pink, and Jimin smiled faintly at the sight. He didn’t miss the way Jungkook’s eyes lingered on Taehyung—but he also didn’t miss how Jungkook leaned slightly into him as they walked down the hall.

They were growing—faster than Jimin liked. Taehyung was becoming the school’s golden boy, the effortlessly charismatic alpha. Jimin had his quiet respect, his polished presence as class president. And Jungkook… he was still their Kookie. Shy, sweet, soft-spoken—and so easy to love in ways no one said aloud.

They walked shoulder to shoulder, and Taehyung slung his arms around both of them.

“You know,” he said, “when we graduate, we should all move into the same place. Like a shared apartment or something.”

“Why?” Jimin asked, amused.

“So we don’t end up far from each other,” Taehyung said, like it was the simplest truth in the world. “We’re a package deal, right?”

Jungkook smiled, small but genuine. “Promise?”

“Promise,” Taehyung and Jimin echoed at once.

But only one of them meant it with a quiet ache in his chest.

And only one of them looked back as they walked—eyes flickering between both of his best friends, wondering when the feeling inside him would stop growing.

Chapter Text

𝙋𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙩

The hallway was quiet, almost too quiet, save for the soft hum of machines and distant footsteps. Jimin stood stiffly outside Taehyung’s room, fists clenched at his sides. The door clicked softly behind him as Dr. Nam joined him, clipboard in hand, voice gentle.

“He’s lucky to have woken up,” the doctor began, his tone kind but clinical. “Many patients with injuries that severe don’t make it past year two.”

Jimin nodded once. “We thought he’d never wake up.”

Dr. Nam looked at him carefully. “But waking up doesn’t mean he’s… returned. Not fully. Not yet.”

Jimin’s throat tightened. “He doesn’t remember anything after the festival.”

The doctor confirmed it with a slow nod. “The last memory he seems to hold firmly is from the night of your college spring event. That kind of retrograde amnesia isn’t uncommon, especially following a long coma.”

“He thinks he’s still with Jungkook,” Jimin whispered, more to himself than anyone else. “He looked so happy.”

“And that’s why I wanted to speak with you privately,” Dr. Nam said. “Emotionally, mentally—he’s fragile. Reintroducing lost time too quickly, especially when it conflicts with what he remembers as real, can cause disorientation, panic, or even cognitive regression.”

“So what do we do?” Jimin asked, even though the answer was already clawing at his chest.

“For now, I recommend you and Jungkook support the version of events he remembers. Let him believe he’s still in that time—at least until we assess how fast his brain is readjusting. Then, slowly, with professional support… we can reintroduce the truth.”

Jimin stared down at the floor, jaw clenched. “You want us to lie.”

“I want you to protect him,” Dr. Nam said gently. “This isn’t forever. But right now, Taehyung’s recovery depends on emotional stability. If he starts questioning everything—especially something as personal as his relationship—he might spiral.”

“And if we don’t go along with it?”

Dr. Nam hesitated. “We could lose him again. Not physically, but… mentally. Emotionally. He could retreat.”

Jimin closed his eyes for a moment, steadying his breath.

“So you’re asking me to help him stay in a memory,” he said quietly, “until he’s strong enough to face what’s real.”

Dr. Nam nodded. “That’s right. It’s temporary. But it could make all the difference in his recovery.”

Jimin didn’t respond right away. He looked through the small window in the door—at Taehyung smiling softly at Jungkook, at Jungkook forcing a smile back, his hand still held in Taehyung’s like it never left.

It hurt. God, it hurt.

But if this was what Taehyung needed to heal… Jimin could carry the ache a little longer.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. “Alright. I’ll help however I can.”

The doctor offered a small smile. “Thank you, Mr. Park. That kind of support—especially from someone who clearly means a lot to him—will go a long way.”

Jimin gave a faint smile of his own, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I’ve always looked out for them,” he murmured. “That’s not going to change now.”

But he felt like he was handing over his own happiness. Again.

Chapter Text

𝙁𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠

The schoolyard buzzed with life—students scattered across the campus during lunch break, lounging on benches or sprawled across the sun-warmed grass. Underneath the familiar cherry blossom tree near the gym, three boys occupied their usual spot: Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, and the youngest of them, Jeon Jungkook.

“You said you were gonna switch to strawberry milk today,” Taehyung said, dropping his lunchbox onto the grass with a thud.

Jungkook blinked, looking down at the banana milk carton in his hand. “I was. But this one was already in my locker.”

He held it up, and as expected, there was a small sticky note attached to it. The same neat handwriting, the same pastel paper. No name. No initial. Just a short message:

“Don’t forget to smile today. You look the best when you do.”

Jimin leaned over, raising a brow. “Again?”

“That makes it… what, the seventh one now?” Taehyung asked as he plucked the bottle from Jungkook’s hands to inspect it.

“Ninth,” Jungkook corrected shyly, eyes flickering away. “I’ve… been keeping them.”

Taehyung let out a low whistle and nudged Jimin with his elbow. “Our boy’s got a fan.”

“Looks like it,” Jimin replied with a shrug, expression unreadable as he peeled the lid off his lunch container.

“It’s kinda sweet though,” Taehyung added, spinning the bottle lazily between his fingers. “Whoever’s doing it has some guts.”

“Or too much time,” Jimin chuckled. “They don’t even sign it. Total mystery.”

Jungkook chewed on his lower lip, still staring at the note. “Do you think it’s someone from our class?”

Taehyung grinned. “Could be. Maybe someone who sees you a lot.”

“Maybe someone you’re close with,” Jimin added casually, taking a bite of his rice ball.

“Or maybe…” Taehyung leaned in dramatically, whispering, “maybe it’s me.”

Jungkook gave him an unimpressed look, but his ears were burning red. “You? You can’t even write neatly.”

“Hey! I could try if it means making you blush like that.”

Jimin laughed, and Jungkook quickly reached to snatch his banana milk back. “This isn’t a joke!”

“I don’t think it is,” Jimin said gently, smile soft. “Whoever it is, they’re trying to make you happy. That’s gotta mean something.”

“Maybe they’ll confess soon,” Jungkook murmured, brushing his thumb over the edge of the note.

“Or maybe,” Taehyung said, flopping back onto the grass, “they’re just waiting for the right time.”

“Or scared,” Jimin added under his breath.

Jungkook didn’t hear him. He was still staring down at the note, caught between curiosity and something gentler—hope, maybe.

The bell rang then, and the three of them slowly packed up. As they walked back toward the school building, Jungkook in the middle, neither of the alphas said much.

As they walked back toward the school building—Jungkook in the middle, banana milk in hand—the note fluttered slightly in the breeze. He looked down at it again, a soft, uncertain smile tugging at his lips.

Taehyung and Jimin walked on either side of him, both quiet now, each stealing glances at Jungkook when the other wasn’t looking.

The note remained unsigned. The mystery remained unsolved.

And none of them said it aloud, but somehow, a simple bottle of banana milk had stirred something deeper than any of them were ready to face.