Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jungkook was not amused.

Here he was, clammy hands gripping onto the granite counter of the porcelain sink of the restaurant washroom as he leaned against it, staring intensely at his own reflection in the foggy mirror bespangled with specks of dotted stains. No, he wasn’t hiding. Jeon Jungkook does not hide in the washroom when he’s overwhelmed by pretty girls, and by pretty, he means really fucking pretty. No, Jeon Jungkook was a ladies man, a real connoisseur of the finest pick-up lines he could find online that made the girls and guys swoon over him. He was a confident guy of 20 years without a single ounce of doubt in his entire, corporeal being. He was smooth and suave, he was hot as hell, and he had a killer body. He did not hide in the fucking bathroom from a pretty girl who was his fucking date--

He jumped up, startled by the door suddenly opening. A middle-aged ruddy man in a crumpled suit glanced at him oddly, hooded eyes narrowing at Jungkook’s awkward form before situating himself at an urinal to take a piss. Jungkook swiftly looked away and took a shuddering breath, cheeks blazing.

Okay, so maybe he was lying. Maybe he was hiding from his pretty date, embarrassed himself more often than made himself look attractive when spewing the weirdest shit ever from his mouth out of ingrained nervous propensities, and maybe he wasn’t that confident in general. But as they say, you gotta fake it ‘til you make it, right? And that was exactly what he was doing, even though it wasn’t going very well. His date was way too pretty for him to function as his normal self-- long, black silky hair that fell over her chest, beautiful porcelain skin, and cute eyes crinkling whenever she smiled at something stupid he accidentally uttered without thinking (she reminded him of someone, but he couldn’t exactly pinpoint who since he was busy trying not to throw up). Her smile sometimes looked a bit contorted, but he ignored that persistent nicety since it was probably his brain being paranoid and overloading with apprehensive sentience. Throughout the entire duration of their interaction (or lack thereof), he lost count on how many times he stumbled over his words and how many times an awkward, prolonged silence fell between them, his social ineptitude and affinity for the quiet rendering him unable to keep the flow of the conversation.

As much as Jungkook enjoyed internally boasting about himself, truth be told, he was inexperienced in the dating scene, having probably gone on at least three dates each year and maybe only had three partners in the entirety of his whole life time. Sure, he’s had girlfriends and boyfriends before but he just felt something missing from them, and he wasn’t desperate enough to pursue one night stands or make grabby hands for fuckbuddies. It just wasn’t his style per se, to sleep around with people he didn’t have an emotional connection with. The people he unfortunately called his fucking friends poked fun at him relentlessly about it, however, and that was exactly why he agreed to go on this blind date Taehyung had thoroughly set up. Maybe it was to prove them wrong, to prove that yes, he was able to get fucking laid (after they’ve established some semblance of a bond), and maybe he was done being perpetually single and wanted to just find some form of romance to add flair to his monotonous world. Perhaps he’s watched too many films as a young whippersnapper-- so sue him and his heart for wanting to find something emotionally fulfilling than his sexual needs.

You've got this, Jungkook. You may be on the awkward and quiet side, but you’re totally the whole package deal. There’s no reason for you to choke or to panic. You can totally save this debilitating date. Just-- I don’t know, fucking believe in yourself for once. He nodded to himself, feeling adrenaline pumping through his veins as he gave himself a pep talk. He can do this.

He didn’t let Taehyung dress him in the black t-shirt he didn’t know existed in the deepest depths of his closet that had a low neckline and dark tight jeans that definitely accentuated his toned legs and made him volatilely uncomfortable for nothing, so he scanned his appearance one last brief time before he quickly trekked out of the bathroom, feet scuffing against the carpeted floor as he headed back out to the restaurant. He made his face appear to be cool and smug, determined to show off the confidence in his gait and in the way he carried himself, but not too much so that he didn’t give off an impression of haughtiness. However, he narrowed his eyes in confusion when he eyed the table he was sure that he and-- what’s her name-- had been seated at, because right now, the table was vacant. Empty, except for the half-eaten plates of food. For some reason, he couldn’t remember the name of his date, but she was nowhere to be seen.

“Fuck,” All confidence he had purposely oozed was now gone, only replaced with humiliation and mortification when he realized that he just got ditched.

He got fucking ditched.

“Uh, sir,” One of the waiters dressed in one of the tight tacky uniforms approached him demurely, handing him a tip tray and the bill, “The girl you were with earlier told me to give you this.”

Jungkook begrudgingly grabbed the tray, looked at the bill and felt his eyes widen until he became cross-eyed and let out the most miserable groan ever.

///

“I fucking hate you.”

Pulling the hood of his pullover up above his head to cover most of his flushed face, he watched with pure embarrassment as his best friend took utmost pleasure at laughing at him. Jimin doubled over, fucking squeaked as his laughter became high-pitched, and was wiping tears away from his crescent-shaped eyes of his red face. Jungkook self-consciously looked around the vicinity of the campus to see if his laughing fit had garnered any attention, but thankfully enough, it hadn’t. He tried to focus on the orchestra of interweaving voices passing by the bench they were seated on instead of the profound urge of wanting to punch his friend in the face and break his nose, even if it was a damn cute nose. He didn’t need to deal with more of this humiliation, especially since Taehyung’s initial reaction when he had complained to him earlier in the cafeteria was just as horrible, his raucous laughter turning breathy as he sprightly gasped for air, hands slapping the table in a successive manner to convey how amusing he found Jungkook’s retelling of his disastrous date.

“Oh- god, my god-- Jesus Christ--” Jimin clutched his stomach, “That is pure fucking gold. Pure. Fucking. Gold.”

“Shut up,” Jungkook whined petulantly, and Jimin cackled even more, “You’re not helping at all, asshole.”

“Oh, I’d never thought I’d see the day where our self-proclaimed charmer Jungkookie would take refuge in a public washroom for over fifteen minutes because of a pretty girl. She probably thought you were shitting chunks the size of Alaska!” Jimin buried his face into his hands, shoulders quaking. Jungkook didn’t even bother to say anything until his laughter finally died down. Jungkook could feel the bright sunrays spill through leaves of the tall trees surrounding them and illuminate the entire vicinity in a warm, gilded glow, but it merely fueled his negativity since he was too invested in his sulky disposition to appreciate basically anything associated with happiness.

Jimin exhaled a contented sigh, laughter now descended into giggles, “Thank you, really, for such a great laugh. I needed that stress reliever.” Once he saw the pout on Jungkook’s face, he cooed and reached over to pat his head, “Aw, there, there. In my honest opinion, I think it’s cute that you’re still a shy little boy who gets flustered around girls.” He broke into another fit of laughter when Jungkook scowled and slapped away his hand.

“Don’t patronize me, you dick! I am not shy! I am just selectively social!” He said defensively in a heated voice, arms crossed in a defiant manner. When he realized that no matter what he says will always provoke Jimin into another giggling fit, Jungkook released a defeated sigh and slumped in his seat, hands falling onto his lap. Jimin immediately paused when he caught sight of Jungkook’s dejected countenance.

“Sorry, Jungkookie,” His voice softened, and the teasing in his lilt had disappeared into that of a comforting sound, “No need for the long look. I mean, there’s plenty of chances to meet other people. Taehyung has a lot of connections. He can-- um, hook you up with someone better!”

Jungkook frowned, visibly crestfallen. More blind dates? As if his ego wasn't bruised enough. He mumbled with downcast eyes, “That’s not what I’m upset about. I mean, she just ditched. Without a word. Was I really that horrible that she had to run away from me? I probably wasn’t good enough and she found me either boring, ugly, stupid, seriously weird, or all of the above.” He sighed, “Definitely all of the above. I couldn’t even keep her interest-- not to even just talk and maybe even be friends or for her to give me a concrete rejection.”

He blinked and all of a sudden, hands were cupping the sides of his face quite vehemently and Jimin’s nose was inches away from his own. Jungkook was surprised to hear the the solemnity in Jimin’s voice, because not often did his cheeriness fade into that of a serious complexion.

“Listen to me very carefully, Jungkook. You are in no way all of those self-deprecating things and you are absolutely silly to think that they’re true.” Jimin squished his cheeks closer together until he probably looked like an inflated puffer fish, “And you know what? She’s the foolish one to not give you a chance and to let someone as amazing like you go, because you are one of the most brightest and most passionate and most strongest person I’ve ever met in my life and I’m glad that you are part of it. Don’t let some stupid blind date invalidate your worth and devalue how incredible you are. You’ll find the right person one day who’ll accept you and unconditionally love you for who you are, okay?”

They’ve been best friends ever since they were at the tender ages of 10 and 12, baby fat hanging from their cheeks with toothy smiles and cavities manifesting in their molars, rotten from saccharine sweets they’d secretly binge on, scrapes and scratches on their knees and elbows from wandering around in their vividly planned out adventures and tree climbing, but never in their years of being friends had Jimin told him all those things.

Sure, they spilled their guts to each other from time to time and the trust between them was impeccable, but it was all lighthearted banter and name calling and being each other’s silent pillars of support, a mutual understanding shared between them that didn’t need spoken words to convey the language in their eyes. Showing affection in public and deflecting it was a reoccurring thing for the both of them, but for Jimin to sincerely voice all those positive things about him without a hint of it being a joke at all?

Jungkook wasn’t sure if he should either be overwhelmed with emotional sentimentality or be eerily creeped out and call for NASA to report how his best friend was probably replaced by some transfigured alien pretending to be a human. But either way, it didn’t stop that uncomfortable and strange flutter of warmth to permeate his chest, but he dismissed it since he probably just wasn’t used to hearing all of that.

So, all he could do was blink owlishly at him and at Jimin’s strangely intense gaze and the warm dark brown iris of his fluffy eyes, and he was suddenly aware of their close proximity and his soft breaths that tickled his skin and the dimly sweet tang of his cologne. “Okay.”

“Really?” Jimin narrowed his eyes in scrutiny.

“Really.”

Light flooded back into Jimin’s eyes, all sparkly and resplendent with spirit that matched the refined shape of half-moons, and his mouth stretched into a wide, beaming grin, “Good, you fishface!”

And there goes the moment.

“Seriously?” Jungkook scrunched up his brows in distaste as he pushed Jimin’s small hands away, “I was basking in the astonishing moment of you actually cheering me up like a normal person for once and you just had to call me a fucking fishface.”

“Would you rather I call you a Pissy McHissyfit?”

“Barnacle butt.” Jungkook muttered.

“Major Fuckface.”

“Seminiferous tubule buttnoid.”

Jimin’s tinkling laughter reverberated through the psithurism of the campus grounds, and he punched Jungkook in the shoulder without clemency.

“C’mon, you grumpy sulky baby, we can go to my place and watch all three films of Iron Man. That always cheers you up, doesn’t it?” Jimin said enthusiastically and laughed as Jungkook’s eyes lit up with a newfound radiance, “We can order pizza and chicken wings and drink crappy beer.”

“Fuck yes,” Jimin knew him the best. Iron Man will always win over blind dates. He jumped up from the bench and fed off the warm beams of the sun shining down on him, embracing all the optimism of the light, “This is why I freaking love you.”

He missed the way Jimin’s face reddened as he said that.

////

He slowly forgot about the mortifying date as time resumed and weeks pass by, and although he would suddenly be struck by the vivid recollection of it still burning holes through his decrepit psyche since his mind retained all sorts of malleable humiliating instances ranging from his green years to adulthood, Jungkook was beginning to move on from his susceptibly negative rumination if his friends didn’t bring it up all the time just to tease him.

He had been lounging around in Jimin’s apartment most of the time to distract himself from all that embarrassment still lingering in his brain, eating all the ice cream in his fridge and hogging all the bed space when they ended up falling asleep together from the late-night movie marathons and playing video games that resulted in an extreme use of profanity and heated discussions about blatant cheating, but it was just another daily and well-accustomed thing for the both of them.

Other than freeloading at his best friend’s place, Jungkook would be either attempting to build the Eiffel Tower using only toothpicks and hot glue gun or be painting more than he usually did, evoking all his inspiration from the tragic narrative of his romance-deprived life since his ass was all about pessimism and emo music. At least his dramatized agony made him productive and he ended up catching up in all his assignments, but his adult credentials dropped like the sea level every time he tried to adult.

Right after his classes ended, he made his way out of the arts building and through campus grounds. Jungkook walked past the plaza square of the west side, where a large water fountain was placed in the center of the marble ground. He kept his hands in his pockets as he maneuvered his way around the onslaught of students, turned to the next street, and made his way to the cafe, looking for the brown canopy amidst the other buildings of eateries.

As Jungkook looked around for a table, his eyes immediately spotted the familiar head of ginger brown hair, glistening from the sunlight that spilled through the vitreous window panes, and he made his way over to him. The brunette didn’t notice his presence until Jungkook slammed his backpack down in the chair across from him, and he finally looked up with a blank look.

“Oh, Jungkookie!” His blank look immediately warped into a sunny smile and crinkly eyes, exuding that much of positivity and incessant optimism that it was hard for Jungkook to stay petulant. Jungkook sighed, leaning his arms against the table, realizing that it was littered with a bunch of incomprehensible papers. “Fancy meeting you here, buddy.”

“I always come here.” Jungkook said flatly.

“Right, right.” Taehyung wiggled his eyebrows as he put his laptop aside, bumping against his lukewarm drink in the process, the collision causing it to spell some of its contents onto the papers with a half-hearted splash. Taehyung didn’t pay any heed or care for it, however, too busy beaming at Jungkook, always excited for anyone that would grace him with their presence. “Anyways, because I feel bad with what happened with Chaerin--”

“Who?”

“The girl who ditched you.” Taehyung snorted and ignored Jungkook’s glare, “As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted-- since I feel bad with what happened with her, I scavenged through my contact list, made some few phone calls and texts, and found a couple of candidates that could possibly be the one for you!”

“More blind dates? No thank you.” Jungkook frowned, “I rather just let nature take its course.”

“What? Where both parties like each other back at the same time?” Taehyung let out an obnoxious laugh, slapping a hand against his knee, “You’re cute, Jungkookie, albeit quite endearingly oblivious. There’s no such thing as reciprocated feelings, thus why relationships today are established through the virtual world and blind set ups and why casual sex is a thing. The only way you'll ever get laid is if you crawl up a chicken's ass and wait.”

Jungkook glared at him and wrinkled his nose in displeasure. He wasn’t cute. He was supposed to be hot, manly, whatever-- anything but cute. “You’re just cynical.”

“No, cynicism would be associated with Yoongi. Me? I’m just realistic.” Taehyung shrugged smugly, a wide smile on his face, “My dear young padawan, once you experience unrequited love and all kinds of heartbreaks, you will know how truly tumultuous it is.”

Jungkook eyed him curiously, “Have you experienced all those kind of heartbreaks?”

“Not really,” Taehyung hummed, “but we both know who has.”

Nonplussed, Jungkook was about to ask who before Taehyung interrupted him with a faceful of optimism, “Well, if blind dates are a big no-no for you now, then come to Chul-see’s wicked house party tonight! We’re all going so you should too. Maybe you’ll finally meet--” He made sparkly jazz hands, “the one.”

Jungkook pretended to think about it before he scoffed, “Hell no.”

x

He was at the party.

Jungkook, once again, was not amused.

He stared at his bottle of beer he nursed in his hand, the brown surface reflected with variegated colours from the flashing neon lights. The rhythmic pounding of EDM music and the heavy bass was shaking the floor underneath his feet and thumping against the walls of the large house that was lit up in vibrant lights. There was inebriated laughter, wild cheering, and incoherent chatter that rang throughout the hearty atmosphere of the late evening. He was seated at a plush sofa all alone while his friends were wildly partying in the background somewhere, probably dragging some fine piece of hammered ass somewhere in the bathroom and probably getting laid by the second. Jungkook knew that he should be partying hard too as a perpetually tormented college student-- that was what the college life was all about, wasn’t it? He should be grinding on the goddamn makeshift dance floor of some wealthy snob’s fancy as fuck house and be getting to know new people who were probably way out of his league, but the thing was--

He absolutely hated parties.

Parties were like those kind of family dinners where you were forced to dress like some puritanical conservative prude and sit throughout the whole dreadful, forced conversations of half-heartedly disclosing your plans for the future, whether or not you had a girlfriend or boyfriend, lie about how fucking amazing you were at school before you proceeded to listen to your parents exchange passive aggressive comparisons about their children and who was more ‘successful’ in terms of life while trying to maintain all that composure and levelheadedness without breaking all the expensive-ass china. It was basically some reality TV drama when it came to those family dinners. Parties were exactly like that. Jungkook had to dress in ‘party wear’, as Taehyung worded it, which meant tight-as-fuck jeans up in his ass giving him the world’s most uncomfortable wedgie, and he had to endure all those sweaty bodies trying to feel him up one, and although he admitted his ass was pretty great since he hit the gym quite a lot, he did not appreciate the unpermitted groping and was not fond of trying to keep a conversation with some stoned dangling asswad dingleberry flying through the astral plane or drunkards professing their undying, unrequited love for some other person. He was watching all these mingle of sweaty bodies intertwining in accordance to the music, mocking him for what he’ll never get because sex was the only thing these people had in their minds. How hard was it to just have a pleasant conversation with someone without them trying to grab his dick?

Being surrounded by strangers touching him in all the weirdest places while he was in skintight pants made him uncomfortable and he was glad that he had been able to make it out of that maelstrom, but now, all he could feel was the burn of embarrassment because he was hiding once again. He wondered where Taehyung was now so he could kick his stupid ass for dragging him to this stupid house party he didn’t want to go to in the first place. He wondered where the fuck Jimin was too so he could kick his ass as well for abandoning him the very moment they arrived, leaving Jungkook to fend for himself. At least Yoongi had the consideration to stay with him for a bit before being whisked away by his own friends.

Speak of the devil. Jungkook looked up as the ash brown-haired boy approached the wide, cherry wooden table displayed with all kinds of alcoholic beverages beside him to grab another bottle of beer. Yoongi regarded him with sedateness and a perpetual impassive look, “Aren’t you supposed to be having fun?”

“I am having fun.”

“By yourself?”

“Okay, don’t be a wiseass,” Jungkook grumbled at him, “I can have fun by myself without the usage of lube, okay? I don’t need to look at the dinky in the urethra hole to fulfill my night. I don’t need to take off my clothes and start raving like an ape tripping on an overdose of acid. I don’t need carrots and cucumbers having a sword fight or a slice of key lime pie. No, I can sit here perfectly by myself and have fun with my perfectly fun, innocent thoughts.”

Yoongi stared at him without a blink of an eye, sarcasm dripping from his voice, “Wow. So much fun. You look like you’re having a spectacular time, kid.”

“I’m not a kid.” Jungkook didn't even know why he was friends with these people. It had only been him and Jimin at first, but with his best friend being immensely charismatic and unfortunately a social butterfly, Taehyung came into the picture like he’s known them since kindergarten and then Yoongi, who detested loud places and all forms of people. Now, he was stuck with them teasing him relentlessly, calling him a kid and dismissing his utmost maturity as a grown adult, and was persistent on treating him like some special snowflake in their own, preposterous ways.

“Still a kid to me.” Yoongi muttered, and sighed, “Look, it’s half past twelve and I want to get out of this hellhole just as much as you do, so get your mopey ass up and maybe search for them or some shit instead of staring at the wall. Meanwhile, I’ll call the cab.”

“But what if--” Jungkook leaned forward, lowering his voice to a harsh whisper as though they were establishing a conspiracy, “they’re inserting coins into someone’s lottery?”

Yoongi deadpanned, “What.”

“You know,” Jungkook waved his hands around weakly, “like, what if it they’re busy putting their pecker into someone’s bung holeo? Or what if it’s the other way around?”

“If those are your euphemisms for fucking, then I don’t want to listen to them anymore,” Yoongi tiredly rubbed his face as he shooed him away, “just go.”

“Okay, okay, fine.” Jungkook mumbled sotto voce as he placed his bottle of deer down onto the table and stood up, rolling the stiffness away from his shoulders. He felt a bit tipsy, but he was still lucid in the head. He felt the rushing ache in his bladder, though, and he figured he’d go to the bathroom first.

Jungkook pushed past the swarming collision of bodies surrounding him, trying to find his way to the lavatory in the labyrinthine house and being caught up in the tangle of limbs half-heartedly moving to the rapid beat of the music, a hand brushing against his thigh and someone tall and fetidly robust pressing against him from behind. Jungkook shoved his way through the bodies to pave a path for himself. After circling the kitchen and almost being pushed into a conga line, he found the bathroom, the light from inside spilling through the gaps of the closed door. He tried the knob, but it was locked, so he knocked on it and patiently waited for a response.

“It’s occupied, go somewhere else,” Someone yelled from inside.

“I need to pee.” Jungkook stressed.

“It’s occupied. As in, we’re trying to fuck in here.”

“Oh.” Jungkook felt his cheeks burn, “Sorry.”

Scurrying away, he found the other bathroom located somewhere else in the halls, but that one was occupied too. His patience was waning and the ache in his bladder wasn’t getting any better, so Jungkook bounded up the steps of the staircase, avoiding the people who were draped across it passed out as he arrived to the second floor that was just as extravagant, hoping it would be less crowded. There was practically a weight room compartmentalized in a closet he had mistakenly thought was an actual room that was almost the size of his crappy studio apartment. Barely saving himself from tripping over a pair of legs belonging to an unconscious, bearded young man, Jungkook curiously poked his head around until he found what looked like to be the door of a bathroom, but it was closed too. He knocked on the door but there was no response of whatsoever, and when he tried twisting the knob, it was surprisingly unlocked.

“Hallelujah,” Jungkook whispered in triumph. Someone probably just forgot to close the lights when they finished using it. Without precaution, his gaze naturally falling to the floor, he pushed open the door ready to relieve the burning ache in his bladder and to see the light of easement, but because he was one unlucky bastard, he was painfully reminded by the universe why he couldn’t have nice things because as soon as he stepped into the bathroom, the first thing he heard was a moan that simultaneously made him freeze mid stride. As his wide eyes lifted from the tiled floor slowly to find two drunk men in the fucking bathtub, all Jungkook could do was stare and register the fact that his best friend was underneath some sinewy looking sybaritic colon barnacle leeching off Jimin’s neck.

And at this very moment, Jungkook knew that he was fucked.

(Metaphorically.)

On the bright side, they still had their clothes on. (Although they looked like they were about to tear them off.) Jungkook silently thanked the lords that he didn’t see anything obscene he’d need holy water to douse his eyes with for the rest of his life, but all he could do at the moment was bob his mouth in uncertainty of what to do. He was pretty sure a strangled sound escaped from his throat because it caught Jimin’s attention, who had been too distracted in a euphoric state to notice Jungkook’s interfering presence, and his eyes widened like saucers in utter shock. As though the realization of being caught settled in and made a click in his brain, Jimin abruptly pushed the guy on top of him away with a hand smashed against his face, earning a reluctant curse from him as Jimin scrambled upright.

“Oh, Jungkookie, hey,” Jimin fixed his thin white t-shirt that had been pulled off of one shoulder, revealing a trail of colourful hickeys against milky skin, and Jungkook felt himself blushing all over again because not only was he mortified for walking in on his friend getting some neat action, but he had also interrupted something completely intimate. Jimin didn’t seem to mind, but instead, he looked kind of-- timid? Embarrassed? And that was another side of him Jungkook’s rarely seen because his best friend exuded all kinds of confidence. Jungkook didn’t know why he looked embarrassed when Jungkook was the one who ungracefully barged in. The look of self-doubt didn’t match him, nor did it match his sparkly eyes and dewy complexion. However, the guy beside him seemed to mind >em>a lot, a fixed scowl on his hostile face, and that was when Jungkook recognized him as the snobby try hard host of the party. What was his name again?

“You ever heard of knocking before, shithead?” Oh hell to the fucking no. Jungkook was affronted, because first of all, he did knock and he even waited, thank you very much. And second of all, seriously? Jimin and this guy? “What the fuck are you still standing there for?”

“Hey,” Jimin said lowly, all enticement gone from his sultry expression as he glowered at him with sudden graveness, “don’t speak to him like that.”

“What?” The guy laughed with a conspicuous highfalutin tone, “You know this freak?”

“I got this, Jimin,” Jungkook held up a hand and leaned against the doorway before Jimin could snark back. Jungkook didn’t know if it was the alcohol in his system that made his tongue loose (he only had, like, two beers, but it was possible) or because he could feel Jimin’s protectiveness all the way from the bathtub with the guy he was initially about to bang before he was unceremoniously interrupted that empowered him. He was about to bombard him with his well-structured eloquence in his refined skillset of retaliation, something he learned adequately from Yoongi, but the only thing that could come out of his mouth was, “You look like one sinful son of a leper’s donkey whose wangle doodle got caught in someone else’s poo cave.”

There was a beat of silence.

Jimin facepalmed.

“Excuse me?” The guy was furious as he stood up, hands clenched into fists, “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

Jungkook thought the volume of his voice had been audible, but it was true he had trouble projecting his voice most of the time, so he spoke even louder to be heard, “I said--”

“We have to leave,” Jimin cut him off as he jumped out of the bathtub ready to dash off, but that flipping asswad waffle packer seized him by the wrist in a tight grip, and catching the flash of pain flicker across Jimin’s face was enough to prompt the alarm bells to go off in his head.

“Let him go.” It was his turn to become protective now. He was stomping his way towards them and rolling up his sleeves of his jacket ready to do some serious damage to the guy’s balls and wow he’s a lot bigger than me than I thought now that I’m closer to him. How many weights can he fucking lift? No, his legs weren’t shaking and his fists weren’t quivering because even though the guy could probably smash his head to bits in a matter of seconds, Jeon Jungkook didn’t back down from a fight. He was a brave, manly man who could take on anyone even if they were a head taller than him and a whole lot more buff, especially to those who threatened to harm his friend. However, Jungkook watched in amazement when Jimin stepped back and rotated his wrist towards the guy’s thumb and pulled it out of his grasp to take the guy’s wrist instead, cupping the back of his neck with his free hand before he brought up his leg and curled it into a flexible kick to the chest that sent the douchebag toppling over from the unexpected and rather violent resistance.

“Whoa.” Jungkook stared at Jimin in awe. “Where did you learn to do that?” Not to mention how small he was compared to the meathead who had been practically towering over him like a giant.

“Dancing’s a great asset when you’re taking basic self-defense classes. Besides, I didn’t hurt him that much,” Jimin shrugged nonchalantly before he took Jungkook’s hand and tugged him away, quickly leading the way out, and Jungkook’s heart totally did not skip a beat at how Jimin’s small hand wrapped around his own, “Anyways, let’s get out of here, you blabbermouth.”

And that was how Jungkook awkwardly found himself situated in the middle seat of the taxi with Jimin to his left somberly looking outside the window and Taehyung to his right, who was drunkenly murmuring incoherent words with his eyes closed, face flushed and hair all messed up, and Yoongi peevishly scowling in the passenger seat. After Yoongi paid his half of the ride and took the task upon himself quite begrudgingly of helping Taehyung back up to his place, the ride to Jimin’s apartment was gracelessly quiet and awkward. Jungkook had to glance over a few times to see if Jimin fell asleep, but he was still wide awake, eyes tracing the buildings and blinking lights passing by in a blur. He looked awfully clear-headed too.

“I’m not that drunk, Jungkookie. I have a high tolerance, you know.” Jimin muttered when Jungkook helped him into his apartment after they got off the taxi and paid their fare. He closed and locked the door behind him and turned on the lights. He liked Jimin’s apartment. It was simple and and average-sized but commodious. His decor was rather simple as well, nothing overwhelming but pleasant enough for the eye, and was homely with the framed pictures of their hometown, his friends and family, and their childhood adventures placed at every surface, along with variegated succulents on top of the windowsills. It was a warm home compared to his, which was small and cold and often reeked of musky paint, old parchment paper and yellowed pages of worn books.

“Oh.” Jungkook blinked at him, and waved at the door, “Okay, well, um, do you want me to leave? You know, to give you privacy? Finish the unfinished? Do the deed? ‘Cause I can totally call a cab or something right now. Actually, I’m not that drunk either, so I can walk back home just fine.”

That elicited a tired laugh from Jimin, who shook his head, “I wasn’t kicking you out. You can stay. Just--” He pointed at his eyes, “help me take this off.”

As Jimin went to get himself a glass of water before he trudged towards his bedroom, Jungkook entered the bathroom and rummaged through the drawers to find the materials he needed. He knew where to look and what to retrieve since he practically lived there, already having memorized all the crooks and crannies of the place. Jungkook carried the things in his arms to his room, putting them on the desk before he sat across from him on the swivel chair as Jimin took a seat on a stool he dragged from the corner. It was a habitual occurrence for the both of them because Jungkook’s done this plenty of times, his movements having become ingrained with familiarity as he reached for the package of moist cleansing towelettes to pull one out. Even though it was a one man job and Jimin was more than capable of doing it himself, Jungkook's never questioned it nor complained. It was just part of their life. He scooted closer to Jimin, gently holding his chin in place as he lightly began to wipe away the glittery eyeshadow. He admired the curvature and the sharp, dainty shape of them, and even though he didn’t drink much, he could still feel the traces of alcohol and some puerile phenomenon propel him to be unnecessarily honest and blunt.

“You have really pretty eyes,” Jungkook blurted, but it probably wasn’t the first time Jimin’s heard that, considering how popular he was since he liked to maintain strong bonds with people around him to establish optimum communication.

“Are you the one trying to cheer me up, now?” Jimin was giggling lightly, but he became strangely silent when Jungkook brushed away the stray strands of his black hair that was getting in the way of him trying to wipe most of the product away from his eyelids. He rested his hand on his forehead to keep his raven locks away from his face.

Jungkook cleared his throat, “Yeah, um, sorry that I-- you know-- cockblocked you. In my defense, I totally knocked, okay, but I didn’t hear anyone. Plus, I really needed to pee. Actually, I still really need to pee.”

Jimin had an easy smile on his face, “It’s okay. I wasn’t really into him anyways. I just needed to release all that pent-up sexual frustration with someone, you know? It’s the same old, same old.”

He pulled another wet towelette from the pack to wipe the other eye, scoffing, “That’s good, because you can totally do so much better than him.”

“You think so?”

“Of course.” Jungkook emphasized it with fervency in his voice, “He was a total slime bucket. Have you ever thought of, I don’t know, finding someone else again that’s not so much of a douchebag? Romantically, at least. I mean, your last boyfriend was a total jerk, but maybe you can find someone else who’ll wholeheartedly appreciate you unlike that dirtbag. Like, you know, what you said to me when I was sulking about being ditched by my blind date.”

“He was a jerk, huh?” Jimin hummed, “But you did quite a number on him.”

“Of course I did.” Jungkook shrugged, “He was an ass knob who made you cry. Simple as that.”

Jimin had the audacity to giggle about it and reached over to blindly pinch his cheek, “How cute. Who knew you had such a golden heart underneath all that whiny sass?” He erupted in heartening laughter when Jungkook pushed his hand away cantankerously, and his laughing died down although a fond smile remained on his face, “Either way, I’m not really looking for anyone right now. I’m okay with just fulfilling my needs and nothing else, and I’m happy. Who needs a boyfriend when you have a childish but softhearted best friend taking care of you already?”

Jungkook paused at his words and his face was definitely not heating up from them. First the blind date and now this? This was getting way too strange. “Should I be worried or something? You normally don’t-- I don’t know, compliment me like that. It’s weird.”

Jimin grinned cheekily, “Well, I always strive to make you uncomfortable, don’t I?”

Jungkook huffed a laugh at that. He finished wiping the last vestiges of eyeshadow off of his eyelids as well as the concealer underneath his eyes, crumbling the wipes into a compacted ball to throw into the trash. “Well, I’m done. Do you want to go take a shower or something?”

“Thanks, Jungkookie, but let’s be hygienic tomorrow,” Jimin stifled a yawn behind his hand as he stood up, “I’m too tired. I just want to sleep.”

Jungkook nodded in agreement, standing up as well. However, as Jimin stretched his neck side to side to alleviate the tension in his muscles, he caught sight of the purplish hues dotted passionately along his supple flesh. He remembered how pleased he had looked back at the party and wasn’t sure how bruises on the neck could count as something satisfying to the senses. Out of pure curiosity, Jungkook gestured at his neck bashfully, fumbling with his words, “How is- does it-- does it hurt?”

Jimin looked up at him with a bit of confusion embedded in his countenance, “Huh?”

“I mean-- you know, the hickeys,” Jungkook helplessly pointed at his neck, “do they hurt?”

“Oh,” Jimin lifted a hand to cup the side of his neck, glancing at it from the corner of his eyes, “it usually doesn’t hurt, but it hurt a bit this time since he was pretty rough. It’s just kind of tender right now.” He looked back up at Jungkook with a surprised expression, mouth hung open in disbelief, “Wait, have you never-- had one before?”

“You of all people should know that I haven’t.” Jungkook crossed his arms rather defensively as his eyes flickered to the side, wondering why he exposed himself in the first place when he was just going to be made fun of, “Just because I went through the whole birds and the bees during the years of trying to figure myself out, doesn’t mean it makes me some knowledgeable philanderer, okay? It was all sloppy and rushed as a teenager. And you know how nonexistent my dating life is right now. Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not laughing at you.” His voice was soft and frank. Jungkook slowly looked back at Jimin who was studying him with a solemn demeanor, but there was something else in his gaze that Jungkook couldn’t exactly pinpoint. He didn’t know what it was but it was unnerving nonetheless, “There’s nothing to be ashamed about, you know.”

“Right,” Jungkook mumbled sheepishly, and sighed, “you know what? Forget I even asked about it. I’m tired too. Let’s just go to b--”

“Hey.”

Jimin had taken a step forward so that their chests barely brushed and their faces were inches apart, his eyes intensely boring into his own without a waver. Jungkook could feel himself instinctively lean back from the sudden proximity, but Jimin was just as fast as to close the distance again when he leaned closer to adhere to his avoidance. From how near their faces were, Jungkook discovered a few, faint freckles splayed across his face he’s never noticed before, and wondered if Jimin’s eyes had always retained such alacrity in the pools of his bistre irises, tethered with a spirited mettle in the gleaming reflections. He realized his gaze was trailing down to his pink and full lips, so he quickly looked back up to meet his eyes, but the intensity of Jimin’s stare and how he was suddenly self-conscious about their intimate closeness made Jungkook’s skin crawl.

“Do you want to know how it’s like?” Jimin asked in a low, husky voice and Jungkook could feel his face suddenly combust in all shades of fucking shock. He was frozen on spot without an ounce of understanding of what was going on. Was he being punk’d? He half-expected Jimin to burst out into laughter and point at him at how gullible he was, but no, it never happened. He was still standing there with no consideration of Jungkook’s personal space, earnestness in his countenance and not a hint of this being close to a farce was apparent. Jungkook was supposed to be composed and tough because that’s how he was supposed to act, right? He was supposed to be calm, cool and collected; unfazed by how his heart was cacophonously hammering against his chest as though it would fly right out of his ribcage and how it was beginning to burn like an acid reflux and becoming hard to swallow.

But no. He was not fucking cool, calm or collected-- he was not goddamn composed or fucking tough. He was flustered and freaking the fuck out and he was pretty sure the panic was showing through his face. What the fuck was he supposed to say or do when his best friend was-- flirting?? With him? What the fuck.

What the fuck.

“Um?” He unintelligently said.

“Yes or no? Do you want to know how a hickey feels like?” Jimin asked again and Jungkook wished he would stop speaking in that stupid low and raspy voice of his. It made his nerves spark and he was just about to ready to sprint out of there if his feet just listened to his brain and fucking moved already.

“Uh,” He unintelligently said once again, but this time, he was able to formulate words better, “ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. Real funny, Jimin-- okay, I think you’re really drunk, you know? I think, um, wow-- okay, you should really go to sleep? Now? And I’ll just, you know, crashinthelivingroom?” His voice was raising in pitch every time Jimin leaned forward and Jungkook had to lean away until he stumbled backwards and his feet collided with the baseboard of the floor.

“You didn’t answer my question.” Jimin said. As much as Jungkook liked to believe he was greatly wasted, he couldn’t mistaken the clear glint of soberness in his eyes. His movements didn’t seem languid or sluggish either, and in fact, he looked remarkably awake.

Just answer the goddamn question, you fucking idiot, but no, his tongue wasn’t working. Instead, he just had to stammeringly ask, “Wh- wh-- why?” He quickly cleared his throat, “I-- I mean, are you-- like, sure? About what you’re asking me? Like, you’re not going to wake up tomorrow and try to gouge your own eyes out because of regret?” That’ll probably be him tomorrow instead.

“I wouldn’t be asking if I wasn’t 100% sure. I know what I’m doing. You think I’d get tanked at a party while letting someone feel me up? I like to be in control and aware so that they don’t get carried away.” His mouth stretched into a reassuring smile, “It’ll be fine, Jungkookie. It’s just a hickey. It’s not like we’re gonna make out or anything, right? It’s not a big deal. I can’t have my best friend die a hickey virgin and I feel it’s upon my duty to make you experience the true exhilaration of it.” He paused, licked his lips thoughtfully, and looked at him a bit more remorsefully, “Sorry. Unless it makes you feel uncomfortable.”

Uncomfortable? Befuddled was more like it, and for some reason, Jungkook didn’t turn away in objection or immediately decline in absolute horror. Instead, he was actually… considering it?

Okay, wow, this is totally not happening.

But it was. And well, as Jungkook silently mulled over it, he figured that there’s no harm done if he does accept the offer, right? They’ve been best friends for a long time and something like this surely wouldn’t come between them. It wasn’t like this was the first time they’ve initiated skinship before. Cuddling was a normal thing for them (it did wonders for the healing spirit, really) so this kind of thing wouldn’t hurt, would it? He could feel his heart thudding heavily against his chest, his guts churning at the new presence of tenacity manifesting within his lily-livered heart.

Oh, fuck it.

“Okay?” Jungkook squeaked and he wanted to kick himself in the nuts. He apprehensively cleared his throat, mouth seesawing as he tried to curtail how unmanly he sounded, “I mean-- yes. Sure. Okay, bring it.”

Jungkook watched as Jimin’s bright smile reemerged, his eyes twinkling with amusement, , “Bring it? This isn’t some arena fight, you know.”

He was about to say something sarcastic but his vocal chords stopped working the moment Jimin leaned closer and this time, Jungkook didn’t shy away. “Are you sure?” Jimin asked him quietly.

“Yeah. Totally. Sure. Go for it. I'm down.” He babbled nervously. “I’m 100% sure.”

Jimin placed his hand on Jungkook’s hip and his other hand gently around the back of his head, tugging at the feathery strands of his dark brown hair that eased the rigid tension away from Jungkook’s stance from how soothing and assuaging it felt to the point of him closing his eyes. He felt his breath hitch, however, and chills ran down his spine when Jimin tugged his head back a bit so that his chin faced slightly upwards.

“It usually starts off like this,” Jimin whispered, and Jungkook could feel his hot breath against his skin, “but I’ll be gentle.”

Jungkook barely suppressed a shiver as Jimin left a trail of peppering kisses from his jaw down past his Adam’s apple before he settled into the crook of his neck, kissing the sensitive skin there a bit harder. There was a flutter of electricity that ran through his body and there was this strange, unfamiliar feeling that pulsated in his chest because he’s never felt this before when he had been somewhat intimate with his past partners. It was like he really, really, needed to pee but the line at some wacko bar was jam-packed and his legs were crossed and he was doing a little jig that reminded him of that unforgettable dance move people did at Bar Mitzvahs. He had to bite his tongue to refrain from making a contented sound that would undoubtedly be incriminating as Jimin nipped at the tender spot. Jungkook thought that that would be it but Jimin didn’t stop; he wrenched his jacket off his shoulder to tug at the collar of his shirt to show more skin, and gently nibbled on the other places of his neck that left behind palpitations of tingling excitement before his supple lips ghosted across his collarbones to his sternum and left ardent kisses there that made Jungkook exhale a ragged sigh. Jimin’s lips felt feverish against his skin, but Jungkook couldn’t deny that it felt-- good. Like, really, really good.

And throughout this whole time, Jungkook didn’t know what to do with his fucking hands.

They were trembling, of course, from the aphrodisiac pumping through his veins, but was he supposed to leave them by his sides? Or was he supposed to hold Jimin like his fingers were twitching to? Should he stand there awkwardly with his hands gripping the fabric of his dismally tight jeans? Was he supposed to fucking twiddle with his thumbs while his best friend was basically making out with his neck?

However, when Jimin’s hands slipped underneath his shirt and gently skimmed his skin, fingers running along the ridges of his sides and over his taut stomach, he barely held back a gasp at the mild, cold touch, and Jungkook grabbed Jimin by the waist in inclination of the momentum and firmly clutched at the thin fabric of his t-shirt. He tried not to shiver as Jimin's hands slowly roamed around, lowering until he rested his hands into the back pockets of his suffocating pants (and basically on his fucking ass), “J- Jimin, I-- I think that’s--”

He felt something wet and sticky dart across his skin and his breath hitched when he realized that it was his tongue perusing the nicked spots. His movements were slow but sensuous as he trailed up his neck and reached his jaw, tracing the lines of his ear to his cheek. They were warm against Jungkook’s skin and it reminded him of fairy floss as blood flowed rapidly to his cheeks, and when Jimin’s lips were dangerously close to his own, that was when the police sirens erupted in his malfunctioning brain because hOLY SHIT--

Jungkook felt his eyes rip open in a flash and he frantically grabbed at Jimin’s hands to stop him, pulling away rather reluctantly before anything else could happen. He stared into Jimin’s eyes that were widened comically, mirroring Jungkook’s own look, and only their heavy breaths filled the stark silence of the room, save for the hazy tinkling and creaking from the neighbors upstairs. Jimin looked rattled as though he was in dreamy state of disbelief at how he had gotten carried away and his face was flushed with a blooming red. Jungkook felt his own face flare up too and because he was the unfortunate overlord of all things awkward and was always terribly incompetent when it came to being and feeling embarrassed, Jungkook let go of Jimin’s hands and ordered his bumbling mouth with his short-circuiting brain to utter carelessly:

“Ineedtogopee,” Jungkook whirled around and stumbled over his own two feet from how weak and wobbly his legs felt. He grabbed the wall ledge to steel himself out of the room and he rushed into the bathroom, shut the door behind him and locked it, and proceeded to slowly slump against the back of the door until his bottom hit the tiled floor. All he could do at that moment was just stare at the wall before him in a quizzical daze, his heart still vehemently pounding and his ears still buzzing and his body still hot and involuntarily shivering from the lingering presence of Jimin’s lips and hands against his skin.

“Fuck.” He grabbed at his head, unsure whether to reprimand himself for letting this happen in the first place or for running away. He felt flustered and he didn’t know what to do because he actually enjoyed it and now he felt confused and weird and warm and he won’t stop shivering every fucking time his brain involuntarily replayed what had just happened. He let out a miserable groan as he closed his eyes and repeatedly knocked his head against the door.

And Jungkook knew that at that moment, he was fucked.

(Completely.)

Chapter Text

Jungkook woke up with a jerk, wiping the dried drool off the side of his mouth as he groaned at the crick in his neck. He was in an inelegant sprawl on the floor, cottonheaded and lead-limbed, the uncomfortable position making his neck stiff and for some reason it felt unusually sore, but he didn't want to move. However, it was hard to ignore the stale taste in his mouth and the persistent ache in his bladder, and he reluctantly opened his heavy eyes, rubbing the sleepiness out of them. He was greeted by the white ceiling light of the bathroom, tiny particles of dust floating in a phosphenic manner. It was bright outside the window too.

Jungkook wasn't sure why he was in a bathroom, and Jimin’s bathroom at that. Stifling a yawn, Jungkook slowly stood up and stretched his limbs with half-lidded and unfocused eyes, sighing as his bones realigned back into their proper place with a satisfying crack, and he leaned against the counter sink, taking a few minutes to settle in to being awake before he slowly blinked open his eyes, and it took a moment for his brain to register what his eyes saw until he blanched. What made him freeze wasn’t his horrible looking reflection but the large bruise on the side of his tender neck, followed along by more bruises around the area and near his collarbone and sternum, the bruises varying in hue from a deep reddish purple to a brown colour.

Suddenly, all the memories of last night came flooding back like a turbulent tidal wave and a distributing filmstrip flickering in his mind-- the party, the ride home, wiping away the eyeshadow off his eyelids, the fucking hickeys-- he could still feel it, Jimin’s warm lips darting across his skin that provoked an onslaught of butterflies to masticate at his stomach-- the precarious moment when Jimin’s lips almost neared his own and how Jungkook ran away to lock himself up in the bathroom and proceeded to black out after a decade’s worth of flying off the handle. He slapped his cheeks and rubbed his eyes vigorously, hoping that maybe it was all just a dream and that he was still in la la land, but the bruises were still there staring back at him from the mirror.

It wasn’t a dream.

Cue the panicking.

“Fuck, fuck, holy clusterfuck of an ass-totem tit zit,” Jungkook screeched quietly at himself as he paced back and forth, gnawing at his fist and eyes widely unhinged, “What the fucking gigantic cockroach blender flip-flopping trailer is wrong with me? Did that really just happened last night? Oh my god, it really happened last night. No, you stay the fuck down, you fucker,” He hissed as he pointedly glared down at his crotch before he looked up at himself and his wild hair and groggy face in the mirror, and slammed his hands against the counter as he stared at himself straight in the eye.

“Okay, Jeon Jungkook, you may be a whiny bastard but you are in no way a pussy. He’s still your best friend at the end of the day. You’ve seen each other’s dicks before, you’ve fucking cuddled before; you’ve manhandled him thousands of times already with no regard to society’s crippling views towards touchy male best friends, alright? You’re just feeling all of--” He made wild gesticulations towards his chest, unable to name what he was actually feeling, “this because it’s a never happened before. It’s fine, totally fine. Jimin will probably laugh it off and say that he was drunk out of his mind even though he wasn’t. Alright, great talk.” He nodded deliriously in attempts to convince himself. After a few more seconds of staring at the faucet of the porcelain sink, Jungkook stood up straight, composed himself, and cautiously opened the door to poke his head outside into the hall. The place was still quiet. He couldn’t hear Jimin’s usual humming in the morning.

When Jungkook discreetly crept through the hall and peeked into the bedroom, he relaxed at the sight of Jimin passed out on top of his bed, arms dangling off the edge. He could hear his soft snoring and the occasional somnolent mumbles, the comforter underneath him dishevelled from his constant shifting weight. Jungkook was placed with the dilemma of whether he should leave or not because if he did, that alone was a sign that things had become awkward between them. Forgoing his sidelining ego and the confusion plaguing the war between his heart and brain, he settled on being the amazing best friend that he was and decided to stay and take care of him. Jungkook didn’t want to let what happened last night get in between their friendship and intervene with their habitual routine.

Before he could chicken out, Jungkook went to take a quick shower since he felt gross and icky (and he finally took a piss, thank the heavens) and scrubbed away the vestiges of sleep by using Jimin’s apple-scented shampoo. He vigorously brushed his teeth using the spare toothbrush all while trying to distract himself from vividly recollecting last night’s impulsivity. He sifted through Jimin’s drawers and luckily enough, found his beloved and long-lost penguin printed boxers that Jimin hadn’t returned yet and slipped them on. He borrowed Jimin’s clothes and wore the largest size he could find of a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. He wa struck by the sudden awareness of how much this oozed domesticity and he cringed, trying to writhe away the discomfort from his chest.

As he stared at himself in the mirror, eyes flickering nervously to the vibrantly hued hickeys displayed blatantly, he rummaged through the drawers to find the concealer Jimin had in his makeup stash. Once he found the familiar looking tube, he eyed it suspiciously. Was he supposed to just rub it all across his skin or something? Using his hands should be fine, right? Paying no heed to such details, he squeezed a modest amount of it onto his fingertips and smeared that shit all around his neck and collarbones, but he probably should have paid more attention to the colour because the concealer was two fucking shades lighter than his tanned ass. He frowned as he looked at the light patch contrasting his darker complexion and he visibly deflated. Concealer was apparently a big no-no, but at least the bruises were covered up. Jungkook put the concealer away back into its original place and he ended up throwing on his jacket, zipping it all the way up to the neck to cover most of the horrendous sight.

He went back into Jimin’s room holding a tall glass of water in one hand and ibuprofen in the other to place them on the night stand beside the bed for when Jimin would wake up. Afterwards, Jungkook shuffled into the kitchen and proceeded to start on the coffee, although he preferred more alcohol to drown the fluttering warmth in his chest away. He stood against the kitchen marble counter as he stared blankly at the floor, his brain still incessantly trying to process all the events that had happened. He fished for his phone from his jacket, checking the to time to see that it was merely eight, and since he had nothing else to do, he might as well make breakfast.

He snorted. Yeah right. His definition of breakfast was the air or a plain bowl of cereal but since Jimin didn’t have that, which was a feat of agonizing atrocities, he figured a peanut butter and jelly sandwich would suffice the hole in his stomach. While he was slabbing on a decent amount of peanut butter on a slice of bread and shamelessly eating a spoonful of it, he missed the quiet padding of footsteps approaching from the hall.

“Why is it called jelly? It’s fucking jam,” Jungkook mumbled to himself as he uncapped the lid of the jar of strawberry jam, “peanut butter and jelly my ass--”

“Jungkook?”

Jungkook jumped and fumbled with the jar in his hands, nearly about to drop it from being spooked out of the blue. He turned around and found Jimin staring at him with surprise and incredulity in his lethargic eyes, still dressed in last night’s clothes that surely must have rendered him in a state of discomfiture and black hair mussed in askew angles. Jungkook fought back the urge to let his eyes roam to the hickeys conspicuously displayed on the curve of his neck, the sleeve of his white t-shirt more or less hanging off his shoulder.

He mishandled the jar as he placed it back onto the counter and turned back around, leaning one hand on top of the marble surface and the other one awkwardly on his hip, and jutted his chin at him with a cool, “Sup.”

Jimin torpidly blinked at him, the dubiosity in his expression muted. His voice was gravelly and scratchy, “You’re… still here.”

Jungkook glanced down at himself. He wasn’t sure why his presence was such a surprise. Why wouldn’t he be here? “No, I’m ascending into an astral projection towards some otherworldly dimension as we speak.”

The surprise in his face quickly melted into a lighthearted eyeroll. “A smartass even in the morning,”

“It’s my specialty.”

Jimin squinted his eyes at him, “And is that concealer? My concealer?”

“...Maybe.”

“That’s some expensive shit, you know, and it doesn’t even match your--”

“ So,” Jungkook interrupted with a sprightly exclaim, waving away his judgment and trying to control the burn in his face, “enough about me. How are you, uh, feeling? Did you take the pill of ibuprofen?”

Jimin frowned at him, letting the topic swerve as his expression softened, “Yeah, I did. Thanks. I feel a bit like shit but I should be fine.”

“Okay, great-- I mean, not great that you feel a bit like shit but great that you’ll be fine.” Jungkook nervously chuckled, wondering where the duct tape was so he could wrap his mouth shut in layers of cohesion right at this instance, “Well, you know, I’m just here. Making breakfast. The usual.”

“Breakfast?” Jimin raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, breakfast.” Jungkook stressed, “This is what you’re gonna get when you’re stuck with me. So go wash up and change or something. I can smell your buttplug breath all the way from here.”

“Shut up.” Jimin chimed with twinkling laughter that was slightly hoarse and it felt invigorating to hear the mellifluous sound of it. Jungkook watched as he turned around and headed towards the bathroom, and Jungkook waited for the click of the door closing before he whirled around and gripped the counter with both hands, silently heaving out breaths into his unfinished peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Holy shit. Why the fuck was this so nerve wracking? He could feel the constant churning in the pit of his stomach and he wondered why his stomach was giving more shits in five seconds than he could ever in his entire life. But Jungkook tried to convince himself that he was probably just overthinking about it too much. It was still morning, they were still groggy, the sun was still shining like an annoying ass cactus, so surely, things would return back to normal. Awkwardness was an aspect that didn’t exist in their friendship, so it was fine. They were fine. He was fine. It wasn’t awkward at all.

It was awkward.

Jungkook was already on his third cup of coffee, practically living off of the caffeine to fuel his perseverance in prevailing over the awkward silence that settled between them. Jimin, dressed in more comfortable and modest clothes after showering and washing up, his hair still wet with the occasional water droplets dampening the newspaper on the table, was munching on the peanut butter and jelly sandwich Jungkook had put together haphazardly. Jungkook had already finished eating, the strips of crusts lying sadly on the plate in front of him, and right now, he had absolutely no idea what to do. Should he get up and refill Jimin’s glass of water? But he’s already refilled it five times and insisting that he needed more intake of fluids was an eviscerating excuse. His brain cells were frying every time he tried to think of something to torpedo the quietude, but maybe it was just him because Jimin didn’t seem to mind the lack of witticism being exchanged.

“This is nice, you know,” Jimin spoke up with a mouthful, glancing up at him,

“The sandwich?” Jungkook frowned curiously, “Well, duh. Store bought peanut butter and strawberry jam is supposed to be a good combination. You think I made it by scratch?”

“No, dummy, I meant this. Eating together and stuff. I wish we could do this all the time.” He had a soft smile on his face, and Jungkook eyed him suspiciously for the sudden show of sentimentality. It was just breakfast and it’s not like this was the first time they ate together. Was he missing something here?

“Well, I’m not going anywhere. You’re not going anywhere. The world’s still revolving. I don’t see why we can’t do this all the time.” Jungkook narrowed his eyes, “Wait, is this your way of telling me you’re moving somewhere else or something? ‘Cause I rather you tell me upfront.”

Jimin sighed, shaking his head in slight disappoint. What did he say now? “No, I’m not. Just-- nevermind. You’re so oblivious.”

“Oblivious? I am not oblivious. For the record, I’m actually quite caught up in today’s current events regarding all kinds of political comeuppances and bureaucratic corruptions and how recently, some man prowling an elementary school got pantsed and hung upside down by a spiked fence and how corals had died in the South China Sea due to the local weather.” He snapped his fingers in frivolous triumph, “Think before you call someone oblivious.”

Appalled, Jimin made a frustrated sound at the back of his throat, “I wasn’t talking about the ‘being-informed-about-the-world’s-never ending-pandemonium’ kind of oblivious, you goofball. How did we even get to this point anyways?” He was speaking while fervently chewing and that was one of Jungkook’s biggest pet peeve.

“You started it.” Jungkook childishly complained, “And swallow before you speak, man.” His face scrunched up in distaste, and was met with Jimin’s deadpanned look. “What?”

“Did you really not do that on purpose?” Jimin narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“Do what?”

“Make that innuendo.”

“What innuendo?”

“See?” Jimin grumbled, resuming in taking a bite out of his sandwich rather aggressively, “Oblivious.”

Before Jungkook could fire back with heated opposition, Jimin opened his mouth again, “Anyways, what I wanted to ask in the first place was-- where were you last night? Or, well, morning, I guess. You said you needed to pee but you didn’t come back.”

“Uh,” Jungkook felt the debatable fight in him slowly ebb away when last night was mentioned once again. He fiddled with the handle of his cup, finding things to do with his hands to distract himself, “I fell asleep in the bathroom.”

Jimin looked at him with cursory eyes.

“On the floor.”

“Ah, that explains it,” he nodded in understanding. Quietude befell upon them, the prior energy still buzzing and the tension and awkwardness definitely disappearing, but it was still there. Jungkook noticed that Jimin kept glancing up at him from the newspaper article he was supposedly reading, as though he wanted to say something. He put his half-eaten sandwich down onto the plate, brushing away the crumbs from his fingers as he looked up at Jungkook directly in the eye, “Are you okay?”

“Me? I’m great. Chipper. Fucking fantastic.” Jungkook said with unnecessary spirit and briskness and a ticklish grin that didn’t sit well on his face.

“I mean-- you know,” Jimin timidly motioned at his neck, pink dusting his cheeks, “your neck.”

Jungkook felt the blood gush to his face at the reminder of it which prompted his clumsy tongue to stammer, “Y-- Ye-- Yeah. It’s-- it’s okay. You-- you remember? I mean, what happened?”

“Like I said, I wasn’t that wasted. I knew what I was doing.” Jimin mumbled, eyes falling back down onto the table as he played with the edges of the newspaper.

“Right.” Jungkook stared at his plate, feeling his eye twitch when another string of silence fell between them. Don’t be a fucking coward, Jungkook. Remember. He’s still your best friend at the end of the day even though his hands were all over your ass and his tongue was all over your neck. Just-- stop thinking about it. He cleared his throat and sat up straighter, looking up to maintain some form of eye contact with Jimin, but even that was too hard for him for what he was about to say so he settled on staring at the wall behind him. He coughed into his fist, “Thanksforshowingme.”

Jimin seemed confused, however, as he paused mid way of bringing his glass of water to his lips, “Sorry, what?”

Jungkook fidgeted in his seat, ignoring the heat in his face, and coughed again and was hopefully more clearer, “Thanksforshowingme.”

“Jungkookie, do you have something in your throat? I can’t understand you.” Jimin frowned at him, genuinely clueless, and Jungkook was feeling his face blaze a few degrees higher as he leaned forward and placed his hands on top of the table rather vehemently, patience waning as he opened his mouth to exclaim:

“THANKS FOR SHOWING ME HOW A HICKEY FEELS LIKE.”

The universe seemed to get a kick out of Jungkook’s constant decline in his social life.

Jimin was spluttering and choking as water squirted through his nose and mouth after being surprised by Jungkook’s unexpected yell when he was about to take a swig of his drink, and the water ended up being sprayed towards Jungkook’s face, which he simultaneously jerked from surprise and somewhat disgust, and caused him to knock over his coffee cup from having water being spat all over him. The dark liquid swamped all over the table, staining the newspaper into wet, soggy pieces in a literal shitty colour, and Jungkook was frantically grabbing at paper napkins to dump all over the table to soak up the mess as he internally apologized to nature for wasting trees. Jimin, on the other hand, seemed to recover but was laughing. Fucking laughing, and at what? He didn’t know, but Jungkook was pretty sure he was laughing at him. And there left Jungkook, who was embarrassed to the fucking core. Blushing was no problem, but his face went as red as a beetroot and radiated heat like a hot pan. Someone could have cooked a three course meal on his burning face and it was as conspicuous as a goddamn zit. He wanted the earth to open up and swallow him whole, but there was no rescue from this embarrassment. It was absolute torture. Utter humiliation. The memory would be seared into his brain forever, ready to pop up and torment him again when he was ever in a quiet moment. Time to add it into his personal hall of shame.

“Amazing, fucking amazing,” Jimin wheezed through laughs, “you’re amazing, Jungkookie.”

“I don’t see what’s so fucking amazing about spilling my coffee and having water being sputtered all over my face,” Jungkook grumbled petulantly as he wiped his face, but it was hard to keep the scowl when he could feel his lips twitching into a smile from how contagious Jimin’s laugh was, and next thing he knew, he was laughing too, a loud cackling sound that was shrieky and blatantly high-pitched. When their laughter died down, Jungkook looked down at the suffering table with stained napkins that was soaked in the liquid and the poor newspaper that was now rendered indecipherable.

“To be honest, I was kind of scared.” Jimin folded the newspaper, bundling it up with the paper napkins, “I didn’t know if things would be weird between us, but I guess I was just overthinking it, huh?” His mouth split into a dazzling smile, the one where his rosy cheeks curved and his eyes became radiant half-moons, his soft black hair making him look unnecessarily pulchritudinous amidst the beaming sunlight spilling through the windows. Jungkook was trying hard not to stare deeply at how he suddenly noticed how daringly winsome Jimin was underneath this new light-- not that he hasn’t appreciated his natural beauty before, but this time it just felt… different. Peculiarly different. Had Jimin always looked this bright?

Jungkook smiled back, trying to ignore the constant thumping of his restless heart.

x

“Isn’t it a bit too warm to be wearing a scarf?”

“Uh, Kook? Hello?”

“Dude, you’ve been sitting there for the past half an hour doing nothing.”

“Are you okay?”

“Don’t bother, Hobi. I think we lost him.”

Jungkook had been staring blankly at the wall in front of him, unaware of his bustling surroundings becoming a blurry symphony in the background, too distracted by his intermittent thoughts whirring incessantly in his sleep-deprived brain. It’s only been a week since That Night™, and thankfully enough, things didn’t change much between them. It was the usual-- in fact, it was as though nothing had happened. Jungkook still went over like the freeloading ass he was, binging on horror movies that ended up in a nightful of cuddling, and they still hung out whether it was just scrolling through their phones while sitting beside each other silently at someone’s home, or going out to eat or to festivals that were happening in the streets. They still bickered, they still teased each other, they still childishly fought over how Marvel was better than DC, and it was nothing out of the ordinary for them, but lately, Jungkook’s been feeling a lot more sensitive and aware these days, especially when it came to their close proximities.

His brain couldn’t help but always chime in with an intrusive reminder of how close they were, skin against skin radiating body heat whenever they sat beside each other, or how Jimin smelled exceptionally good whenever they bumped shoulders and Jungkook took a whiff of his piquant cologne or a new, fragrant body wash he was using, or how profoundly comforting and right it felt to hold him in his arms whenever they had one of those completely normal cuddling sessions of theirs whenever one of them felt like they were going to blow a gasket from the harrowing tribulations of school. Jungkook’s never felt like this before when it’s been such a well-ingrained routine part of their lives, so he was this close to going bonkers when he couldn’t understand why he was suddenly so-- conscious of all these things he’s never noticed before. It was unsettling and it made him want to tear his hair out because not only was it freaking him the fuck out, but he also didn’t know why this was happening to him. He couldn’t even look Jimin in the eye without remembering about the goddamn hickeys, so for the past few days, he had been taking a break from his presence, making plausible excuses just to sidestep his friendly advances. No, he was not avoiding him. Jungkook wasn’t that of a fainthearted coward to start avoiding his best friend. No, he was merely… broadening his horizons and taking in all the other aspects of independence. Yeah, independence.

But was he supposed to notice how much his heart swelled whenever he heard Jimin’s tinkling laughter? How fulfilling and satisfied he felt whenever he managed to make him smile on a stressful day? Was his heart supposed to accelerate whenever their hands brushed just ever so slightly? He was pretty sure pretending that nothing happened did more harm to his heart than good. The feeling was like being on a crowded subway at that too early hour in the morning and his face was submerged in someone else’s armpit and his toes were being crushed by someone else’s feet and all of a sudden, right in front of him, a seat opens up. And as he’s sitting down, eye level at all the briefcase commotion, he felt as though the chaos could fucking samba around him and it wouldn’t even matter. He felt safe. He felt detached. And then he’d feel unusually content. It was like the colourful hues of the world before him gained another increment of vivid saturation and made his view a lot more vibrant than before. He could see the niceties, the details of things he initially wouldn’t have in the past.

What the fuck did that mean?

His trainwreck of fulminating thoughts came to an abrupt halt when something soft but dry and bumpy-- a fucking bagel?-- hit him right in the centre of his face, and the sudden attack nearly made him topple over his chair. He caught himself gracelessly and he looked up to glare at the culprits. “Did you just seriously throw a bagel at me? A half-eaten one at that? Gross.”

“We’ve been trying to get your attention ever since the Mesozoic Era, man.” Taehyung huffed, leaning forward on his elbow as he rested his chin on his supinated palm. “Like, you’ve been zoning out a lot lately. Did something happen?” His gaze flickered towards the scarf bundled around his neck before he wiggled his eyebrows with a smug smirk. It was an unspoken agreement between him and Jimin that they wouldn’t mention it to their friends, but Jungkook felt the itch to say something just to ward off their annoying and agitating presumptions.

“N--No,” Jungkook passionately denied, “why-- why would you think that?”

“Well, first of all, you’ve been wearing that scarf for the past few days and it’s fucking warm today. If that’s what I think it is, then…” Hoseok trailed off, eyes blinking innocently, “are you finally getting laid?”

“Who is it?” Taehyung asked excitedly, sparkles in his eyes.

“No, I-- I didn’t-- I didn’t meet anyone,” Jungkook stumbled over his words and wanted to scream from frustration at their assumptions. He felt his cheeks burn up and his head became overflowed with so many thoughts it started spinning from how he started thinking about That fucking Night™. Because he had an intense dislike for suppositions, he made a frustrated noise and rubbed his neck, feeling his stomach flip like burnt pancakes, “I just feel weird.”

“I think it’s called sexual frustration?” Taehyung noted casually and erupted into devilish cackles when Jungkook sent him a deadly glare.

“No,” Jungkook huffed, “it’s like-- this-- this feeling. I don’t know what it’s called and it’s killing me. It’s like-- like-- the first couple of seconds on a rollercoaster. The cart is climbing slowly up the lift hill and it’s like I’m leaning back while my heart is pumping and is making a scene and I’m building up the strength to scream and it’s like-- I’m wondering if I can’t turn around now, if I can’t press the stop button and slide back down, if I could at least stay in this spot for a little while longer. It’s like-- you start noticing these little, tiny things you haven’t before, and you get self-conscious and your hands start to get all sweaty for God know’s what reason and there’s-- there’s butterflies in your stomach-- not the anxious kind, but the kind that flutters and makes you happy and calm-- and- and--” He waved his hands around, frantically grasping for any coherence to his words, “it’s scary. Your view completely changes and you’re not sure if it’s because of-- of--” His cheeks had to be as pink as the cherry blossoms that still flittered around in the spring, and hoped that they didn’t notice, “this weird incident that changed everything and if maybe you’re just confused and just need to stop overthinking about it but you can’t because it’s stuck there and your fucking jizz trailer of a brain won’t stop replaying it.”

Taehyung blinked at him with a hollow expression and eyes, despite being weirdly vacant, was filled with complete judgment to the brim. Hoseok, on the other, looked dumbfounded and stupefied, his eyebrows screwed in a way that conveyed his utmost confusion. There was a strange silence that was sustained between them, both parties unmoving and quite abnormally still, until Taehyung and Hoseok exchanged knowing looks before facing Jungkook again in an eerily calm disposition.

“You need Jesus,” Taehyung simply said and winced when Hoseok elbowed him in his side.

“What does Jesus have to do with my inner turmoil?” Jungkook groaned and slumped in his chair, face tilted towards the ceiling in defeat at how helpful his dandy friends were.

“Nothing. That was his way of calling you an idiot.” Hoseok nonchalantly shrugged, “Because you’re an idiot.”

“Is this your way of cheering me up? By insulting me until my self-esteem withers into nothing but ashes?”

“Sorry, Kook, but it's true.”

“Well ‘sorry’ doesn't sweeten my cup of tea.”

“Oh, criminy,” Taehyung rolled his eyes and slammed his hands against the table, making the both of them jump from the sudden force, “Jungkookie, I bet your brain feels as good as new, seeing that you never use it, so I advise you to use it now for what I’m going to tell you.”

He leaned forward, voice sonorously clear as he spoke very slowly as though he was speaking to a toddler:

“You’re. In. Love.”

Jungkook blinked, let what he said sink in, and then proceeded to burst into shrill laughter. That was Taehyung for you, spewing the most absurd and preposterous shit ever from his half-baked mouth. Love? Him? In love? Unbelievable. Completely impossible. The thought of being in love with Park Jimin made him laugh even harder, but then he abruptly stopped.

Wait what.

“What.”

“What you just told us?” Taehyung sat back in his seat, putting an arm around Hoseok’s chair in a casual manner, “That’s love, buddy. Fucking love-o. L-o-v-e. Love.”

Jungkook’s mouth was bobbing up and down, the statement rendering him incredulously speechless, and he felt his eyes widen until he was sure they were going to pop right out. He felt his bottom lip quiver as he forced out stammering words, “Th-- Th-- That’s impossible.” He exhaled a nervous laugh, his cheek twitching, “You’re-- you’re joking, right?”

“Does this beautiful piece of ass look like he’s joking?” Taehyung quirked an eyebrow as he pointed at his own face, his expression flat and impassive.

“So, who’s the lucky guy? Gal? Non-binary pal?” Hoseok leaned closer with his elbows on the table, eyes lit up in enthusiasm and a spry grin on his face. “You’re not really subtle, you know? And you do a shit job of covering it up, by the way. I can see one peeking out right now.” He pointed at his neck and Jungkook frantically lifted up his scarf.

“No, no, nope, nopedy nope. Love isn’t-- love isn’t supposed to be confusing, is it?” Jungkook frantically looked between them until he felt dizzy.

“Not unless you’re an idiot,” Taehyung muttered underneath his breath.

“But I-- I never--” Jungkook wanted to kick a chair and punch a wall because all these feelings were chaotically burbling inside him but he couldn’t find the exact words to vocalize them and express the true magnitude of them, and it was futile to even try considering how fucking helpless he felt at the moment.

“Do we know this person?” Hoseok lowered his voice, suddenly serious, “Is that why you’re hesitating on telling us?” He shared another knowing look with Taehyung whose lips were upturned in a thoughtful frown.

Jungkook made a frustrated and inhumane screeching noise to answer the question.

“Wow, okay, no need to go through the mill.” Taehyung raised his hands with a surprised look, “Look, we won’t ask who it is if you don’t want to answer, but I’m guessing they’re a friend of yours and something happened between you two? And now, because you’re an emotionally stunted ass, you have no idea what to do and you don’t want all your helter-skelter feelings to get in the way of your friendship?”

Jungkook stiffly nodded.

“Jeez.” Taehyung scooted closer to the table, placing his intertwined hands on top, “Don’t let something as trivial as that get in between you guys. Friendship is way more important that all that chaotic mess that’s your stupid brain. Do something before you ruin it with your asininity.”

“Maybe you’re just temporarily infatuated, y’know?” Hoseok chirped in and hissed when Taehyung audibly stomped on his foot underneath the table, making the porcelain cups clink from the sudden collision. Hoseok harshly whispered (not really), “Ow, what the fuck, man.”

Taehyung gratingly whispered something along the lines of “don't put that fucking idea in that birdbrain of his when you know it’s not infatuation” but Jungkook was too focused on that one single word to pay attention. Infatuation. Maybe that was fucking it. Maybe it was just his body reacting to it because of its biological necessities. Maybe it’s because his dick was deprived of action (not that he was too bothered by that, but you know, biological necessities) and that’s why he was being all giddy and weird and abnormally jittery, and that extremely intimate act fueled by testosterone and palpable remnants of alcohol must have caused an entire chain reaction. It was normal to feel pleasure from something like that. Completely normal. It was all in Jungkook’s head. That was it. Jimin didn’t seem affected by it at all. He was his usual, spirited self, all sweet laughter and eye smiles, not a tinge of tension in his bone whenever they touched. And although infatuation didn’t explain all those indescribable warm feelings teeming in his chest all the way to his stomach, he convinced himself that it was just an ephemeral influence of such explanation. Jungkook was avoi-- no, Jungkook was taking a break from Jimin for absolutely no reason. This was nothing to be awkward over and he felt immensely foolish to let his agitation get to him. He was surprised that Jimin still remained friends with him to this day despite his tendency to fuck things up.

“You know what?” Jungkook stood up, “You’re right. I shouldn’t let this get in the way of our friendship. It’s way too valuable to let this silly thing get in between us.” He nodded slowly in reasonable understanding, an elated smile on his face, Thanks, guys. I knew you wouldn’t let me down even though you always somehow manage to. I’m gonna fix this right away.” He dismissed Taehyung’s agonized groan as he stalked away out the cafe.

That was why Jungkook later found himself standing in front of Jimin’s apartment at 12:30AM in the ungodly morning on a Saturday dressed like a slob, holding a bag of spicy cheetos on top of the 5 Second Rule: Spit It Out game in his arms. It was time to end all the counterproductive awkwardness and unnecessary self-consciousness and return back to their run-of-the-mill narrative. He would have showed up earlier but he had been preoccupied with going haywire to convey all his messy, pent-up emotions by screaming into his pillow and most definitely not by belting out tragic lyrics to some OST of a drama. He felt a lot better now and was ready to move the hell on, if Jimin hurried the fuck up and opened the door already. He had knocked on it a few times already and even repeatedly rang the doorbell and was definitely not keen on infuriating the neighbors, and Jungkook found it weird that there hadn’t been a response yet. Jimin was always awake at this hour so Jungkook didn't know why he was taking so long.

Jungkook fixed his scarf when one end fell over his shoulder and he vigorously rang the doorbell for a good five seconds before he deflated. Maybe he should have texted Jimin first, but Jungkook had wanted to surprise him with a faceful of optimism despite being an aficionado of misery. He didn’t climb those two flights of stairs only to be met with no response, but maybe it was just another one of his unlucky circumstances, so he was just about to dejectedly get ready to leave when he heard the door unlock.

“Jungkook?” Jimin stood before him clad in nothing but boxers and in a way too large Slipknot t-shirt, which Jungkook has never seen before and he’s raided his closet more times than he can count. There was no way that was his because Jimin wasn’t into the metal scene. His hair was dishevelled, as though he had just gotten out of bed, but he seemed uncannily wide awake and his expression seemed to express more of consternation than delight at Jungkook’s appearance. He noticed the beads of perspiration on his forehead and how sweaty and red he looked, and did Jungkook detect nervousness in his voice? “What are you doing here?”

“Um,” Jungkook glanced down at the things in his arms, frowning, “to play 5 Second Rule and have a Cheetos spree? Have some bro time? You know, like hang out and stuff? Because best friends do that?”

“At almost 1:00AM in the morning?”

“So? It’s not like I haven’t showed up in the middle of the night before. What took you so long anyways? Why are you sweaty? Did you run a marathon in there or something?” Jungkook frowned, and since Jimin stayed fixed in his position shifting his weight between each foot, Jungkook took on the task of inviting himself in and pushed past him, ignoring Jimin’s weak-willed protests. There was something in the air as he entered that didn’t sit well with him. “You’re not working out like crazy again, are you? I thought we sat down and had an exceptionally long talk about that and established the fact that’s it’s unhealthy, Jiminie.” He balanced the game and the bag of cheetos in one arm as he lifted the other to place a firm hand on Jimin’s shoulder, looking at him in the eye with steadfast conviction in his voice, “You’re perfect just the way you are.”

Jimin’s mouth parted in bewilderment, a baffled look on his red face that was deepening in hue, “Th-- Thanks, Jungkookie, but-- but no, I’m not working out like crazy again. I’m serious. I just don’t think now is the right time to, um, hang out. Maybe some other time?” He took Jungkook by the wrist as he gently tugged him back towards the door, but Jungkook smelled something fishy in the air-- both literally and metaphorically. He planted his feet adamantly on the floor until Jimin was practically dragging him.

“Is something wrong with your heater or something? It smells funky in here, and you’re acting kind of weird.” Jungkook gnawed at his lower lip in apprehension, “Is it because I’ve been avoi-- uh, venturing somewhere else lately? I was just-- you know, busy with stuff, and you know me. I become a reclusive troglodyte when I need to think. But that’s why I’m here right now to make it up to you-- my best friend, my homeboy, my most favourite person-slash-sidekick in the whole wide world! Nothing like a late night fun of an endless game of monopoly, am I right?”

“It’s fine, Jungkookie, but really, I think--”

“Jimin, who is it?”

Jungkook halted and he turned around at the unfamiliar sleepy voice, and standing before him was an incredibly tall, spunk bubble motherfucker who was ripped as fuck with arms that could crush him. Jungkook could feel himself slowly shrink underneath the stranger’s scrutiny, feeling a lot smaller underneath all that overwhelmingly intense staring. Or glaring. And a whole lot of glowering for probably disturbing his sleep. And wow, as if his self-esteem wasn't low enough, but his brain just had to instinctively start comparing himself with Mr. Ghost-looking Hunk over there judging him with every pint of bellicose and faultfinding disapproval ever to be tangible amidst humans.

Oh, no, but that wasn’t all. He was also fucking stark naked. As in, butt naked and balls-hanging-in-the-front naked, and Jungkook could feel his blazing face flare up until he personified the degree where water starts to fucking boil, and because he truly didn’t need to see some stranger’s dangling balls, he let out an unmanly shriek and rapidly brought his hands up towards his face to hide behind the red-covered game, smacking himself ungracefully with the bag of cheetos while he was at it. He could feel his entire existence become scarlet and turn into an unsophisticated colour of a bad sunburn. Jimin was staring at him completely flabbergasted at his unexpectedly pusillanimous reaction, which totally went against the whole ‘manly man tough guy’ image Jungkook had been trying to persuade his disbelieving friends, and he could totally see the twitch at the edge of Jimin’s mouth,as though he was trying to hold back a laugh. Great.

But then the cogs in his brain started shifting gear in accumulating understanding-- the nonexistent Slipknot t-shirt until now, the dishevelled look, the constant attempt to kick him out, and Mr. Ghost-looking Hunk over there who was as naked as a jaybird? Holy shit, they were post-fucked and Jungkook unscrupulously interrupted them.

“Hey, do we need to call the cops or something?” The stranger drawled suspiciously, and oh hell to the fucking no once again, because Jungkook was offended. The nerve of this guy when he was the one standing on his turf.

“No, we don’t.” Jimin said sharply, sharing the same vexation in his voice, “So go back inside and put on some pants, you exhibitionist.”

Mr. Pasty Ass made some noise of acknowledgement before Jungkook heard the waning footsteps into the bedroom, and Jungkook frantically faced Jimin with a horrified look as he lowered the board game away from his face, the cheetos long forgotten on the floor while Jimin had burst into giggles, “Who the hell is that guy? Why is he all naked here? Do you need me to, like, tell him off? With my fists or something?”

“Oh, Jungkookie,” Jimin sighed with a twinkling smile, and Jungkook realized that he was still holding his wrist and his heart was definitely not pounding like some reverberating taiko drum, “you’re so cute. Did you really get that flustered at seeing someone else’s dick? I didn’t know you could scream that high.”

Jungkook fumed, cheeks sweltering, “I am not that sensitive, okay. I just didn’t need to see his droopy hairy balls, and you didn’t answer my questions yet.”

Jimin laughed, “He’s just a classmate of mine. You don’t need to worry about it. It’s nothing serious.”

“So-- like-- you’re not--” Jungkook wiggled his finger at where Mr. Pasty Ass had once stood at, “together together?”

“Of course not.” Jimin grinned at him with a tinge of playfulness, “Why? Are you jealous?”

“Me? Jealous? Pfft, no,” Jungkook nonchalantly waved off the implication, “Why would I be jealous? I mean, look at him! He looks like some porn star soccer mom with that haircut and c’mon, really? That Slipknot t-shirt?” He pulled at the hem of Jimin’s shirt, “I bet he’s just a wannabe metalhead who doesn’t know that their first ever album Mate. Feed. Kill. Repeat. was based on a video game called Werewolf: The Apocalypse and that they even signed a cow’s heart and a human femur and he probably never even listened to Duality or Psychosocial or Pulse of the Maggots.”

Jimin raised a quizzical eyebrow at him.

“What?” Jungkook blinked innocently, “Everybody had those phases.”

Jimin laughed quietly, shaking his head, “Whatever you say. Well, since you’re here already, I don’t see why we can’t play, considering how you’ve been avoiding me for the past few days. It’ll take a lot more than a game and a bag of cheetos to make it up to me, though.”

“I wasn’t avoiding you,” Jungkook denied, “I was being independent.”

“Right,” He didn’t believe him at all. However, there was a soft look in his eyes as Jimin reached up to tug down the scarf wrapped around Jungkook’s neck, his fingers lightly ghosting the exposed skin as he regarded the fading marks with thoughtful consideration. Jungkook stilled from the gentle touch that sparked an onslaught of warmth to flutter in his chest and a ladder of chills to run down his spine, “how’s your neck, by the way?”

Jungkook let out a shaky breath, trying to command his stupid nerves to stop malfunctioning, “Great. I mean, yeah. Great. I didn’t think they’d take so long to fade.” He motioned at Jimin, “Yours-- wow, they’re gone already.”

“Well, yeah. You’re supposed to ice them.” Jimin said, “Didn’t you know that?”

Jungkook couldn’t keep the whine out of his voice, “How was I supposed to know that?”

“There’s a thing called Google.”

Jungkook had been too busy mulling over his situation to pay heed to any rationality, so of course the idea of googling it was dormant when he was still shocked over his own turmoil. He tried to ignore his scorching face and huffed, “Any-- anyways, what about him?” He waved at the intangible air in the direction of where the bedroom was. He wasn’t great with strangers and if that Mr. Pasty Ass was going to be there the entire night spoiling the fun, Jungkook might as well go home and sulk about it. Jimin slowly reclined his hand away, a lingering touch that did no good to his heart. Jungkook felt as though he’s been reduced to a goddamn prepubescent tween with a crush or something.

As though Jimin had read his mind, “I can kick him out.”

Jungkook blinked, “Wait, but it’s like-- it’s like one. In the morning. How-- are you sure? Like, weren’t you in the middle of, you know--”

‘“It’s fine, Jungkookie. We were done anyways.” Jimin smiled up at him, a glimmer in his eye, “Anything for you.”

So, as Jungkook sat at the sofa cradling the bag of cheetos while trying to open it in his arms, he watched hawkishly as Jimin insisted that Mr. Pasty Ass take his rear end out the door in the most politest way possible, a sweet smile on his face to intensify that effect and to soften the blow. He switched shirts and gave Mr. Pasty Ass his own back, and near the threshold, Jungkook felt a vein bulge and grip tighten on the bag of cheetos when he witnessed him duck his head in an attempt to steal a kiss from his best friend. Jimin didn’t permit it though, pushing his stupid face away from him, but the laugh the gesture elicited from him was so bright and pleased and Jungkook could feel something unpleasant churning in his chest and realized he was squeezing the hell out of the plastic bag until he ended up aggressively tearing it open, making a large rip that sent a cloud of cheetos flying in the air and scattering all over the carpet floor.

“Shit, three second rule motherfuckers,” Jungkook quickly bent down and collected them from the ground as fast as possible, blowing on them to somewhat clean them before shoving them into his mouth.

“Oh, jeez, did you just eat that off the carpet?” Jimin approached him after Mr. Pasty Ass left, “It’s dirty.”

“I’m not going to waste food because it fell on the floor.” Jungkook frowned, “Think about the children in Africa, you asshole. You know who I blame for our health problems caused by food? Everybody else, because it’s everybody else making shit food taste like what I imagine The Last Supper with Jesus and Friends tasted like. So, if I’m gonna eat cheetos off the carpet under three seconds, then I’m gonna eat cheetos off the carpet under three seconds.”

“Shut up. You’re such a big baby.” Jimin lifted a foot to half-heartedly kick him, reaching into the bag of cheetos before bringing one to his mouth, “Let’s get this show on the road. I’m totally going to kick your ass with my rapid-fire wit.”

Jungkook grunted, his competitiveness sparked, “Bring it.”

x

“Um, Jungkook,” Taehyung spoke up and Jungkook turned his head to face him, disgruntled, “you’re ruining your perfectly good slice of pizza.”

Jungkook looked down at his hand that was, indeed, crumpling his perfectly good slice of pizza in a tight, indignated squeeze that got all the sauce and toppings all over his hand. Embarrassed, he quickly put it down on his plate and grabbed a couple of paper napkins to wipe the mess off his palm, although it didn’t do much to lessen his petulance.

“What’s got your panties in a bunch?” Hoseok frowned at him.

“Mr. Pasty Ass, that’s what.” Jungkook grumbled, ignoring their confused looks, “What’s his name again? Criss? Cross? Apple sauce? Fuck this shit.” He hadn’t expected to see Mr. Pasty Ass after that embarrassing encounter, but jokes on him as always, because Mr. Pasty Ass was not only a one-night rendezvous, he was also a persistent little motherfucker who was trying to pursue his best friend. Jungkook could smell the ill intent in that bald testicle nugget’s motive, being all friendly and tenaciously chummy with Jimin in his attempts to swoon him, and they’ve been spending a lot of time together lately as well. Jungkook was internally-aggressively z-snapping because he knows those hungry eyes anywhere, and he wasn’t going to stand there like some mannequin and watch his best friend get hurt by some douchebag just being nice so he could get in his pants again.

“Oh, you mean that hip-hop dancer in Jimin’s class?” Taehyung perked up in recognition, “He does have a pasty ass, I’ll tell you that.”

“Never heard of him.” Yoongi mumbled. “Don’t like him already.”

“You don’t like anyone, Yoongi.”

“He’s Mr. Pasty Ass to me, alright? He’s asshole material. Do you know how many times he’s crashed our movie nights? Do you know what he even said to me about Jimin?” Jungkook grabbed his can of sprite to chug it down before slamming it back onto the coffee table, where they were crowded around and having one of their afternoon sessions where they would collectively smack talk, except for Jimin, who always practiced on his own volition during this time, in Yoongi’s apartment, much to the older’s dismay. Everyone was all ears, “He said Jimin was hot.”

There was a beat of silence and a pin dropping could be heard in the distance.

“So?” Hoseok asked, nonplussed.

“So?” Jungkook exasperatedly threw his hands up into the air, ranting heatedly as all the unpleasant emotions came spilling out, “So, that was it! That’s all he fucking said! Hot. And whole lot of other shallow things. That bastard doesn’t know how to appreciate Jimin as a whole! Is that all he can see? Hot? He’s not just a pretty face for him to please his withering stupid dick that’s probably as reproductively sterile as a lamp! I don’t understand guys like him-- I mean, what’s so greating about trying to plow someone’s booty in exchange of hurting others? Is it worth it when you might lose circulation and fracture a hip bone? Oh, he’ll be fracturing a lot of bones if he comes near my best friend. You know what else? He eats Spaghetti-O’s fucking cold, okay. COLD SPAGHETTI-O’s. Why does that cantankerous vermin of the ocean have to use ‘hot’ anyways? It’s a goddamn understatement from the millionth realm of hell. How about handsome? Beautiful? Gorgeous? Because Jimin is not hot, he’s fucking stunning. And you know what, maybe I’m being a bit overprotective because he is not some damsel in distress, okay. He can kick ass better than I can and he’s more than capable of defending himself but he’s my best friend and he’s too nice, too generous, too fucking considerate of others and that’s why those stupid assholes think they can do whatever they want with no regard to his feelings. Sure, he’s got great legs and really pretty eyes and amazing hair and cute lips and an incredibly ethereal smile, but what about his integrity? His honesty? His instinct to take care of others and be genuinely compassionate to those around him? His unrivaled passion? His confidence that was sculpted by the pain he’s faced in the past? His angelic laughter that could probably thaw the entire nation’s icy hearts? His perseverance and diligence? Like, come on.”

There was a pause of Jungkook breathing vigorously.

“You rant a lot for someone who’s quiet. I can see the steam coming out of your ears,” Hoseok giggled and Jungkook kicked him in the shin underneath the table, earning a pained yelp from the dark-haired man, “Fuck! What is with you violent brutes playing footsie?”

“Shit, I wish I could have recorded that. It would’ve been legendary blackmail material,” Taehyung cursed.

Jungkook grabbed another slice of pizza to aggressively munch on, emitting an agonized, high-pitched groan.

“You’re getting sauce all over your face, you cob roller.” Yoongi looked at him with a disgusted look.

“Don’t you remember that one time Jimin got a boyfriend-- you know, that guy with the stony face and a fuck ton of piercings? Didn’t you throw a conniption fit because he was spending more time with him than you and Jimin had to pry open your apartment door to actually get in because you were acting like a sulking, constipated jerkwad and he had to reassure your stupid ass with a whole lot of cuddling and kisses to your head?” Taehyung mentioned indifferently to which Jungkook responded with a reddened face as hot as an oven.

“What the fuck does that have to do with this?”

“Because you’re jealous.” Yoongi stated casually. Jealous? Him, jealous?

“I’m not jealous.” Jungkook said zealously as he miserably shoved more pizza into his mouth. So what if Mr. Pasty Ass was taking too much of Jimin’s time? So what if Jimin cancelled their routinely plans because of Mr. Pasty Ass’ inviting himself into the picture? He had nothing to be jealous about. Jungkook knew that it was all bros before hoes-- or manhoes in his case. Jimin wouldn’t forget about him because of some ripped motherfucker who doesn’t even listen to the bands he has on his t-shirts.
“Why would I be fucking jealous?”

Taehyung deadpanned, looking as though he’s had enough of his shit, and threw his (paper) plate down onto the table, “Because you’re in fucking love with him, you dumb as fuck doofus.”

Jungkook spluttered and suddenly regretted shoving more pizza into his mouth that filled up his cheeks like a chipmunk because he inevitably choked on a mouthful of it from Taehyung’s blunt comment and ended up spitting it all out, bits and pieces of half-eaten pizza flying across the table. His eyes were tearing up as chaos ensued around him, with Hoseok freaking out on whether to use the Heimlich maneuver and Yoongi and Taehyung erupting into explosive expletives when the mushy toppings were hurled towards their faces. It took a good five minutes for Jungkook to regain a sense of composure as he downed two cups of water to wash down his pipes, hoarsely coughing from time to time, before he settled back in his seat with a pallid look, eyes vacantly wide as though he had just seen a ghost.

“What.” He said with a strangled voice.

“You are the reason why people invented double doors.” Yoongi rolled his eyes, reaching for another slice of pizza. Jungkook stared at him, then to Hoseok who was shrugging nonchalantly, and Taehyung, who was massaging his head in an attempt to ward off some kind of approaching headache, and then back to Yoongi, and repeatedly flickered between the three of them until he got whiplash.

“You still haven’t realized yet?” Taehyung groaned wretchedly into his hands, “Dude, I’ve been watching you make heart eyes at him ever since you came here fresh outta high school. Everyone here knows. Everyone in the fucking entire world knows but you. Even my dad knows and he’s not the most savvy when it comes to relationships. Jimin told us about your whole little hickey rendezvous anyways, so I’m still surprised you’re still so painfully unaware. Did you not retain anything we said in our last conversation about you being freakishly in love? Like, hello?”

“Totally.” Hoseok chirped brightly, “I mean, the first time I met you guys, I thought you two were a couple. You guys do so much couple-y things, I’m surprised you haven’t, like, professed your undying love for each other yet and shaboinked. We’ve known since day one and we’ve been waiting for the day you’ll come to this kind of epiphany, but I didn’t think it’d take that long.”

“Wait, wait, he- he-- he told you?” Jungkook felt his jaw drop. Turns out there wasn’t an ‘unspoken agreement’ between them as Jungkook initially thought but why the hell would Jimin tell the Three Stooges about That Night™? What he didn’t understand the most was why his friends didn’t even tell him that they already knew.

What the fuck.

“Oh my god.” Hoseok draped himself over Yoongi in utmost defeat while the other scowled at him to get off. “I don’t know if we should tell him or not. This is killing me. Seriously.”

“O-- O-- Okay, look,” Jungkook said with nervous laughter, still unbelieving of this whole catastrophe. His heart was thrumming with concentrated vigor and he wasn’t sure if he was going to die or not on the spot. “It’s impossible. I’ve never-- this-- how am I in--”

“Did you not hear a single thing that you just said about him in that hilariously preposterous rant you just spewed?” Taehyung huffed, took in a breath, and sat back in his seat. “Fine. Here, answer me this: Why did you come all the way here to be with him when you’re such a homebody?”

Jungkook scrunched up his eyebrows in confusion. “It’s-- it’s because we’re best friends. “

They’ve been attached to the hip since they were young. Jungkook could still remember it to this day when he had first met Jimin: small, somewhat endearingly peculiar, but shamelessly effervescent, smiling widely and brightly as the fucking crystalline stars that aligned themselves in tandem. He was a free-spirited child who accepted Jungkook as he was without hesitation and judgment. They were a pair of close-knit friends with a blossoming companionship and Jimin’s been putting up with Jungkook’s stupid shit ever since then. They've seen each other at their highest and lowest points, witnessed both the ugly and the beauty. And, well, when Jungkook graduated from high school, he felt it was only natural for him to follow after Jimin who left their hometown in pursuit of further education. So, after some rapidly intense and passionate interim of praying relentlessly as he slammed his forehead against his thick textbook, he got into the same university as Jimin with averagely good grades. (And, for the record, Jungkook was shit at studying.)

Knowing each other for so long and being so comfortable with each other has made their friendship a lot more intimate than others, so there wasn’t really anything abnormal about them doing couple-y things, was there?

“I mean, who else is going to support his dream of becoming a dancer? He gets discouraged easily, you know. If I’m not here to give his butt a kick whenever he feels down, who’s gonna do it for him? Not Mr. Pasty Ass that’s for sure.” Jungkook narrowed his eyes, “And for the record, Jimin is the one who’s a homebody.”

Hoseok let out a pained groan. Yoongi grabbed a cushion to smash his face in and Taehyung clenched his fists and started to punch the air before he exhaled a deep breath, “Okay. And who was there for you when you felt hopeless and self-deprecating and went through that entire existential crisis within a span of an hour?” Taehyung sighed impatiently.

“Jimin.” He frowned.

“And who did you give chocolates to on White Day?”

“Um, Jimin, but that was because both of us didn’t have partners so we just gave chocolates to each other instead. Completely a bro thing.”

“And who is the only one you’re willing to cuddle and actually hug?”

Jungkook could feel sweat building up on his forehead. “J-- Jimin.”

“And who is the one who, as you said yourself, inspires you the most?”

“Jimin?” His voice was getting shrill.

“And who was the one who gave you fucking hickeys--”

“OKAY,” Jungkook exclaimed, waving his hands around, “No need to bring that up again.”

But him? In love with Jimin? His best friend? What? No way in hell was he in love with his crazy beautiful smile, or his beautiful stupid face, or his beautifully shaped eyes, or his beautiful raven hair, or his beautiful laugh and compassionate, fun personality nor was he in love with how he fucking snores like wood being sawed or how clingy he could get or his stupid tendency to trash Jungkook’s apartment when he had the chance and he had to clean up after him. It was true that Jimin took care of him since he was shit at taking care of himself, knew him the best, always reassured him that he’ll find the right person one day and that he was totally lovable in a world with people who viewed others more like objects, always doted on him and called him cute that may or may not have made his heart secretly surge with joy, told Jungkook that he liked it when Jungkook wore clothes that pertained to his personality instead of outfits he often reluctantly wore to dates and parties because he looked the most happiest, accepted his flaws and imperfections as a messy individual, and always encouraged him to do his best when he was scraping for the last bits of creativity in his brain trying to produce some half-assed art assignment. But that didn’t mean he was in love with him, right? Even if hearing Jimin’s voice felt like-- like he was draping clothes that came straight out of the dryer over his overworked and exhausted body. The way something so familiar can make him feel so fresh and so renewed and can rest so carefreely on his curves and hug onto his shoulders and make him feel complete and happy and--

There was a click in his brain, as though the cogs had shifted in the right position of his turbid engine of a mind, and Jungkook could feel his entire face combust from total, complete, impeccable and sheer realization.

Oh.

Oh.

“Holy fucking shit,” Jungkook whispered fearfully, his eyes as wide as saucers and he looked up at the three solemn faces. He felt as though the earth was shimmying like an aggravated salsa dance and they were about to snap off the rest of the continent like a piece of cookie. “I’m in love with my best friend.”

A triple beat of silence.

“FINALLY,” Taehyung shouted as he threw himself back onto the couch and started kicking the air with his excited feet, voice cracking with vehement relief, “FUCKING FINALLY.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Yoongi said, completely unaffected by his proclamation as he took a swig of his soda.

Taehyung wouldn’t stop screaming in utmost joy and Hoseok was just eating his stupid fucking pizza all smiley while Jungkook sat there utterly shocked and in a daze. Why did everyone see it but him? Jungkook wasn’t the brightest when it came to these kind of things-- there was a perfect explanation as to why he sucked at getting into romantic relationships and partaking in dates, but he didn’t understand. Why did he have to have these burbling feelings inside him now? Was it because of the fucking hickeys? But what he felt wasn’t anything near sexual, and although thinking about That Night™ made him writhe around in eccentric giddiness, it was most definitely not lust that fueled the expediting pounding of his heartbeat or the similar feeling of sitting by a fireplace all warm, toasty and snuggly.

“Oh my god.” He whispered to himself, until his voice gradually became louder as he repeated it countless of times, “Oh my god.” He turned to look at the three of them frantically, “But-- but-- but-- how? Why? Why do I feel all of--” He gestured at his chest weirdly, deplorably conflicted, “this now? Why do I-- I mean-- I’ve felt a little bit of this before the whole-- you know-- but why now?”

“Because you’re oblivious as fuck.” Yoongi said without much change in pitch.

Jungkook helplessly turned towards Taehyung, “Then why did you always set me up on those blind dates, then?” Maybe he wasn’t the ‘tough and cool’ guy he always convinced himself to be. He was chicken-hearted at best and being told that he, Jeon Jungkook, was in love with his best friend, Park Jimin? All logic became skewed in his brain because it was frightening. Terribly, horribly frightening, to be met with such emotions he’s never truly felt towards anyone before, not even to his past partners.

“I was hoping they’d make you realize it sooner, but man, it took you one hell of a lifetime to figure it out.” Taehyung finally came to his senses as he planted both feet on the ground again, leaning forward with a serious expression suddenly gracing his face, “Look, Jungkook. Kook. Kookie. My little dumbo. You’ve been trying to find someone to connect with on an emotional level, to form a close bond before doing anything else. But didn’t you already find someone whom you’re already deeply connected to? Like, your fucking best friend for the past ten years? I mean, fuck, you’re pretty slow at noticing these kind of things and I guess it was about time that-- you know, you start noticing the gradual physical aspects. You’ve been trying to find the right person instead of trying to be the right person.” Taehyung placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him the philosophical look, “So go be the fucking right person for Jimin, for God’s sakes.”

Right person for Jimin?

“Huh?”

“Yeah, because surprisingly enough,” Taehyung said without much passion, as though it was old news, “Jimin’s been in fucking love with your dumbass all this time too.”

x

Jungkook stared at his wall, dried paint smeared all over his hands with some caught on his face and on his unsightly shirt. Being the miserable artist that he was, Jungkook’s been expressing all his emotional mayhem through the mediums of acrylic paint by either stabbing his canvas and ruining his paintbrushes because he was frustrated about his incompetency or by softly stippling paint onto the canvas as though he was partaking in a poignant film.

This-- this explained why he felt something missing from all his past partners and all the dates he’d been to before. It wasn’t because they weren’t pretty enough-- no, Jungkook didn’t care about looks at all. It wasn’t because they weren’t fun enough, happy enough, smart enough-- they were all warm hearted people that had their own individuality and sense of beauty in the world and Jungkook appreciated being able to be part of their colourful lives despite it being short-lived. Although he could’ve never properly explained what it was back then because he had been too young to have been attuned with his own feelings, to understand the momentous and magnitude of them, he was merely content on burying it underneath all his layers of self-doubt when his growth spurt hit the roof. But now, he realized that what was missing from them wasn’t an integral aspect of their character or something deep-rooted in their genes. It was much more significant than that.

It was because they weren’t Jimin.

Jungkook can’t believe it took him ten fucking years, a plethora of hickeys, Mr. Pasty Ass, and his secret-harbouring friends (who were actually kind of helpful) for him to figure this shit out. They’ve been best friends for so long and Jungkook’s barely noticed the transition and shift in their dynamic and in his feelings. And holy shit, was he oblivious as fuck. Who cared about current events anymore? Keeping up with the world’s idiocy could never outrival the fact that it took him basically a decade to figure out he’s been in love with his best friend.

Jungkook lifted his eyes from the wall to the side when he heard a knock on his apartment door. It was surprising how much time had passed in the midst of his agonizing reflection because it was already late in the afternoon, which was the exact time Jungkook had texted Jimin to pass by his apartment when he was let off work to ‘talk’. Reluctantly, Jungkook stood up from his chair and placed his palette of groggy colours and paintbrush down onto the newspaper-covered floor, and padded his way out of his room to attend to the door.

“Damn,” Was the first thing Jimin uttered as he stared at him with surprise, “you look like you fell asleep and rolled around in a sea of paint.”

Jungkook couldn’t think of anything witty to say so he just cracked a weird smile, to which Jimin responded with a suspicious stare as he stepped into his apartment, kicking off his sneakers. “No snappy response? No sarcasm? Are you okay, Jungkookie?” Jimin wandered around his apartment, heading towards his slovenly room before he reemerged with a worried look, “You only paint this much when something’s bothering you. What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing’s wrong. Everything is absolutely-positively-completely fine. I just needed to talk to you-- you know, about some-- some stuff, you know, in private.” Jungkook gave a robotic laugh and a jerky shrug.

“Okay?” Jimin frowned, putting his hands into the pockets of his jeans, “What did you want to talk about?”

Jungkook felt his mind scatter like a scared rabbit now that Jimin was here in the flesh. His face, rigid with tension, belied his youthfulness and he seemed to have aged a decade in the past few hours. What the fuck was he supposed to say? Profess his love like they do in movies? Fuck, maybe he should’ve bought flowers, but that wasn’t his style either. What could he say? Ha-ha, Jimin. Turns out I’ve been in love with you for a long time but I didn’t realize it until now because I am one dumb fuck. You love me too, right? At least that’s what I heard. Please don’t tell me Taehyung was being a slobbering bastard and was just trolling me. Okay, so maybe not that. His pounding heart was definitely not helping him and was distracting him from the task at hand instead. The feeling was like that time he had paid three dollars for a macaron to try for the first time and it was this little booger-sized piece of doo-doo and he felt the utmost disappointment permeate his entire being. That was the feeling he was afraid of experiencing-- that initial excitement turning into smithereens of dust when you didn’t expect the answer you had expected in the first place. He felt like his body was reacting like there's a gorilla about to beat the crap out of him.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Jungkookie? You’re not dying, right?”

“Um, no.”

“Okay, well, you look like you were.” He was chewing on his lower lip nervously, hands intertwined on his lap, “Are you having another crisis again?”

It’s do or die, Jungkook. As much as you want to jump out the window right now, you can’t. It’s pricey as fuck replacing a window and your pint-sized insurance can’t do shit.

“No. It’s something else.” He croaked. All he could hear was the sound of his heart throbbing against the cage of his chest, “I-- I think I found someone who’ll accept me. And unconditionally love me for who I am.”

Jimin looked taken aback, eyes flashing with a mixture of astonishment and disbelief, the warmth of them fading away into something akin to hurt. There was a vacancy in his expression, as though thoughts were swarming his brain in a indecipherable manner that rendered him immensely speechless, only able to look at him with protruded eyes and part lips that uttered no sound. Jungkook shifted awkwardly from all that unabashed gazing until Jimin broke into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “Wow-- um, wow-- that’s-- that’s great, Jungkookie. I always knew there was somebody out there right for you.” He laughed a bit dejectedly, turning around so he faced the black screen of his mini television and nonchalantly drifted around the room, “Who-- who is it? Do I know them?”

“Yeah,” He felt his face blossom into a crimson colour, his cheeks roasting hot and ready to possibly combust, “It’s you.”

Jimin froze. There was a semblance of silence that hung in the air before he slowly turned around, eyes round as full moons, “What?”

Jungkook can’t believe he was doing this. He shuffled closer to him, trying to move his heavy feet with him, “I said, it’s you.” He wasn’t sure whether to continue or not because seeing how shell shocked Jimin looked, he either fucked up and was lied to by Taehyung, that son of a bitch, or it was his weird approach of confessing that baffled him. Nonetheless, it made him want to climb out of his own skin and run away. He didn’t think it was humanly possible to blush this much, but lately, it’s been happening a lot especially when he was around Jimin.

“Oh, God,” Jungkook covered his face with his hands and took in a deep breath, the silence making him feeling deeply uncomfortable, “So, uh, funny story, actually. Turns out I actually love you? And have been in love with you since my subconsciousness could remember? And I-- I always get this feeling, you know? That feeling when you’re watching the person you love do something? Like talk, or dance, or just laugh and smile and they look really happy, where you feel all proud and you get all those butterflies just--” He patted his stomach awkwardly, not sure what to do with his hands, “fluttering around in your tummy? That’s how I feel about you., because you-- you make me feel all kinds of weird but really nice things and I get all mushy. Like, I’m not sure if I’m supposed to be wanting to dig myself my own grave from how terrifying this is too, but, like--” Jungkook made some strange gesture with his hands, hoping that it was enough to convey the strength of his emotions, and when he couldn’t think of any cohesive words, he said the only thing that could come to his mind, “yeah.”

What he didn’t expect was for Jimin to punch him in the goddamn shoulder before he folded over in a fit of laughter, his trilling laughter oscillating in a high-pitch until all he could do was squeak. Jungkook rubbed his shoulder in pain because fuck, that hurt a lot, and he wasn’t sure if Jimin submitted into some temporary state of insanity or if he was being laughed at, because ouch.

“Why are you laughing?” Jungkook complained as he crossed his arms over his chest, “Dude, I poured my heart and soul to you, and you know how much I suck at that shit. Is this what I get for being sincere and all maudlin?”

Jimin shook his head, face flushed as he squeezed out the last traces of laughter before, much to his surprise, he pulled Jungkook into a gigantic hug, arms wrapping around his torso and his face burrowed into the crook of his neck. His body was warm against his own and Jungkook wasn’t sure if it was because he was flaring up in all kinds of flustered dispositions, so the only thing he could do at this point was just pat Jimin’s back awkwardly from the unexpected contact. Jimin’s shoulders were still shaking, though, “I’m laughing because it took me four years to realize my feelings for you but it took you fucking ten. Ten years, Jungkook. Ten fucking years, you asshole.”

“Wait--” Jungkook pulled back, hands planted on both of Jimin’s shoulders as he stared at him, dumbfounded, “four years? Wait, does that mean you’ve-- you’ve been in love with me this whole time, even though you dated and, like, burped the worm in the mole hole with other people?”

“You think I was going to wait ten plus years watching my dick shrivel? A guy has his needs, you know,” Jimin shrugged, a mirthful smile on his face, “And even though I dated others, it was when things were looking kinda hopeless with you. So I wanted to see if things would be different with other people, but at the end, I realize that it’s always going to be you.”

“Then-- Mr. Pasty Ass?” Jungkook was met with Jimin’s confused look.

“Oh, you mean my classmate? You call him Mr. Pasty Ass?” Jimin giggled, which was sweet sounding to his ears, “He did ask me out, but I turned him down. I could tell by his advances that he wasn’t really genuine anyways so I kicked him to the curb.”

“Good, I never liked him anyways,” Jungkook muttered, then frowned, “Hold up, but then-- why-- why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“And possibly jeopardize our friendship?” Jimin said, “Hah, yeah right.”

“So-- so-- you love me?” Jungkook had to make sure his ears weren’t deceiving him. “Even though I’m shit at expressing myself and I freeload in your apartment and eat all your food and you always end up paying for our meals and I’m legit the epitome of all your pet peeves?”

“Yes.”

Jungkook could feel his jittery nerves spark in his skin and his heart ricocheting excessively like a hummingbird, his chest filled with a ticklish heat that pranced around delightfully and made him want to cry and laugh at the same time because holy shit, is this really happening?? He felt as though the room had gotten a lot brighter and warmer in the presence of Jimin’s resplendent smile and glow and his skin was definitely getting clearer and the trees were singing and the birds were dancing, and he may have switched those two around but he didn’t care. His fingertips were thrumming with energy as he held the sides of Jimin’s face, bringing him closer until their foreheads met, his big eyes sparkling, “Can I kiss you?”

“I’ve been waiting for a long time. By all means, go ahead.” With a widened smile, Jimin brushed his own lips against his, an innocent touch to test the waters that was enough to spread an electrifying warmth throughout his entire body and Jungkook felt as though his brain was lit on fire. Jimin’s lips were warm and soft but firm and it reminded him of his pillows that were just as warm that made him feel a sense of comfort and easiness, how as he kissed back more ardently, it obliterated every edgy thought in his mind. He savoured his lips and the quickening of his breath that matched his own, and Jimin’s fingers gently ran up and down his spine, coaxing shivers out of him. Jungkook had to pull away for a breath, to stare at Jimin and his flushed face and loving eyes.

“Wow,” Jungkook exhaled, “that was--”

Jimin didn’t give him a chance to finish because he quickly pulled him back for more by the back of his head, his fingers tangled with his dark hair, adding more pressure to their lips as he deepened the kiss and their breaths intermingled. Jimin pressed his tongue against the seam of his lips and, at his grant of access, delved and explored inside his mouth slowly and indulgently but with enough passion to make Jungkook feel like he was walking on air. Jungkook rested his hands firmly on his hips, and when their lips parted from each other, rendering them both breathless, Jungkook took the initiative and left a kiss on Jimin’s cheek until he trailed all the way down past his jaw and his lips grazed the base of his neck. Jungkook could smell the scent of his fragrant cologne and hearing Jimin’s breath hitch and feeling his fingers tighten in his hair was enough to propel him to continue. With a profound kiss to the curve of his neck, Jungkook thought he was doing pretty well until he heard Jimin’s sharp hiss of pain , fingers coming untangled from his hair to nudge him away.

“Did you just bite me?” Jimin asked incredulously, his lips rosy while he rubbed his neck in surprise. When Jimin lifted his hand away, Jungkook could see the imprint of a bite mark left lightly on his skin.

So much for doing well.

“Am I not supposed to bite you?” Jungkook narrowed his eyes, “Isn’t that what you do anyways?”

“You gave me a bite mark, not a hickey,” Jimin was laughing breathily now.

“From what I remember, there was teeth.”

“Barely.”

“Fuck.” Jungkook’s face burning up until he could feel it get caught on fire and shrivel and turn into ashes, because wow, embarrassing much. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Jimin hummed in amusement, reaching forward to cup the back of his neck with a coy smile, “I can show you how it goes again.”

Jungkook didn’t mind. After all, he had plenty of time to learn how to give a proper one with enough practice on a certain someone.

x

In the far, far distance, a triumph exclaim from Yoongi could be heard as a couple of hundred bucks were being reluctantly slammed onto his open palm.

"This is bullshit." Taehyung grumbled as he scowled at him while Hoseok was just as pouty and crestfallen.

"What can I say?" Yoongi walked past them with a smug look, fanning himself with the money, "I'm great at predictions."