Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jimin is very , incredibly late.

He promised Yoongi, on pain of death, that he would be at the school extra early this time. Another apology for being five hours late for sports day three months back, ultimately arriving just as the final medals were being handed out.

Yoongi was pissed on sports day, understandably so. Because Jimin had promised on pain of death he would be there, had even shuffled around so much of his own work schedule so that he would be there.

But ultimately the life of an idol makes adjustments for no one, not even the idol themselves.

And thus, Jimin had been five hours late.

This time he was only an hour and a half late, which he supposed was a large improvement. Doesn’t mean his husband was going to be any less pissed though. Because this missed hour and a half should have been when Jimin started setting up blankets and paper plates on the school field. He dreads to think which poor unfortunate soul has been lumped with an extra task just because Jimin hadn’t turned up on time.

God Jimin hates being late.

He hates disappointing Yoongi even more.

With a last fleeting glance at his watch, Jimin slows his running down to a speed walk as he barrels out of breath into the front office of the school. He can feel how his cheeks are vibrant red, his lungs heavy with ragged breaths as though his chest is filled with sand. There’s also beads of perspiration dotting his forehead, ruining the two hour make-up job the photoshoot MUAs had slaved over this morning.

The fluorescent strip lighting of the front office hurts Jimin’s eyes, a painfully bright contrast to the gentle light of the early spring afternoon. The sturdy grey brick school clearly does not hold heat well, as Jimin suppresses a shiver whilst tottering over to the receptionist’s window. It’s not even that cold outside given the fact it’s late April, but the school feels as though it could very well be mid-January instead.

He wraps his knuckles on the little glass window that looks into the receptionists office before shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his trousers. It’s always so eerily quiet standing in the front entrance with the doors tightly sealed to the rest of the school.  There’s a special button that opens them in the receptionists office and Jimin always marvels at just how soundproof the thick oak doors are whenever he’s granted entrance. As every time they open his ears are assaulted with the humming and buzzing of children’s voices, feeling very much like a beekeeper opening up a large hive.

After a few moments of rocking back and forth on the heels of his feet, Jimin lets out a little sigh and knocks against the window once more.

It’s understandable that everyone must be pretty busy preparing for a school wide teddy bear’s picnic, but surely someone should be on hand in the front office. Isn’t this where all the important calls and visitors are directed too?

“Hello!” he shouts, knocking on the glass for the third time, squinting through the window and regretting not grabbing his glasses before he dashed over.

He’s just about to pull out his phone and see if he can get a hold of Yoongi, when half a face pops into view at the bottom of the window.

“Hello,” a small child greets, big dark eyes peering over the bottom frame of the window. “No talking to strangers,” they say, and Jimin cocks his head to one side.

What’s a child doing all alone in the front office? What’s to stop someone shady smashing through the window and stealing them away, never to be seen again? Jimin isn’t all that good with children and childcare, but he knows enough to spot something not right when he sees it.

“Yes, you shouldn’t talk to strangers,” Jimin agrees, nodding his head. The child nods along too and it sends his chocolate brown hair flopping into his eyes. It looks a little long if you were to ask Jimin, in desperate need of a trim just to keep it from irritating the poor kid’s eyes. “Is the receptionist or a teacher around?”

The boy nods again, pushing his long bangs out of his face rather clumsily with the flat of his palm. Clearly his hands are a little sticky, or perhaps a little sweaty, as once the boy removes his hands from his hair, tufts of chocolate brown stick up on end. He looks a bit like a bean sprout. A very adorable, incredibly cute bean sprout.

Jimin smiles warmly. “Can I talk to them?” he asks, and once again his question is answered by another nod, large eyes never once looking away from Jimin’s face. Belatedly, Jimin realises that this is probably all he’s going to get out of the boy.

“Do you know Park Seongsangnim?” Jimin queries with a subtle cock of his eyebrow. This time the boy furrows his brow in deep thought, eyes scrunching closed just a little. “He teaches 6 th grade,” Jimin adds helpfully.

The boy’s eyes blow wide once more. “Oh,” he says. “Lee Jongin cleans the shoe lockers and Kookie helps.”

“Right,” Jimin replies, elongating his vowels as he tries to comprehend what that sentence even means and how it’s relevant. “Who is Lee Jongin?”

“A big kid,” the boy elaborates. “Very big.”

Jimin hums, pointer finger resting on his chin. “Is he a 6 th grader?”

The boy scrunches up his face once more as if he’s thinking very, very hard. “Possibly,” he finally says.

“Possibly?” Jimin asks with a sinking suspicion that this boy might be a little too young to help him.

“Possibly,” the boy echoes with a final nod. Then his eyes crinkle around the corners like he’s smiling, not that Jimin can see the lower half of the boy’s face. Considering the window is pretty high up and the boy is only small, he must be standing on his tiptoes to be able to see anything through the window. “Big kids help clean after lunch,” he adds.

Something clicks in Jimin’s brain and he lets a little understanding Ah! Slip past his lips. “You’re in kindergarten?”

“I’m not a baby though,” the boy clarifies a pinch of hurt between his brow that doesn’t belong on the face of someone so small, someone so young. “Kookie’s not a baby.”

“Is that your name? Kookie?” Jimin asks, warmth in his chest. God this kid is incredibly cute.

The boy looks as though he’s debating if he’s made a mistake. “No talking to strangers,” he says and his little brow furrows in a way that should look intimidating, but is actually stupidly adorable.

Jimin feels very much like he’s going around in circles, and not for the first time in the ten years he and Yoongi have been together, he finds himself questioning how in the hell Yoongi has the patience for kids.

“Okay,” Jimin sighs, slipping his cold hands back into his pockets. “What will it take for us not to be strangers?”

The boy squints at him. “What’s your favourite colour?” he asks, tone deathly serious, reminiscent of a cop questioning a perp.

“Um,” Jimin has to think about it for a moment. His favourite colour tends to change like the weather. “Yellow,” he finally decides.

“I like red,” the boy says, nodding like he accepts Jimin’s choice. “Fire trucks are red, apples are red, apple starts with a!”

Humming along to the boys mumbled thoughts like he’s listening to the best inspirational speech, Jimin smiles. “That’s right,” he praises. “Very clever.”

It looks as though the boy puffs his chest out in pride, but Jimin can still only see the top half of his head. “Kookie’s not a baby,” he repeats but this time there’s pride in his voice rather than the disgust of earlier. “Kookie is me.”

“I can see that you are most definitely not a baby,” Jimin agrees and the boy positively glows with happiness. “So, does this mean we’re not strangers anymore?” he asks and predictably the boy nods his head. “Because you know my favourite colour?”

The boy, Kookie, looks a little like a bobble head with the way he’s nodding so much. “Bananas are yellow.”

“They are,” approves Jimin. “It’s nice to meet you, Kookie, I’m Jimin by the way.”

“Jimin-ssi likes yellow,” Kookie responds. “He’s not a stranger.”

Why is that cute? Why is childish jargon so incredibly endearing even though it’s getting Jimin absolutely nowhere? “I’m glad we’re not strangers,” Jimin adds with a polite little bow. The boy copies the action and just narrowly misses smashing his forehead against the windowpane. “I’m supposed to be helping with your teddy bears picnic today.”

There’s a droop to the boy's bright eyes. “Selfish children can’t go,” Kookie says in a quiet voice. His words are very clearly not his own and it has Jimin’s brow furrowing a little.

“Who is selfish?” Jimin asks tentatively, trying his best to keep his voice light.

Kookie’s eyes avert from Jimin’s face for the first time since their encounter, gaze dropping to his feet. “Someone,” he mumbles, words lost a little behind the barrier of glass between them.

“Someone, huh?” Jimin repeats and watches as Kookie nods sadly. “What did someone do to be selfish?”

The boy sighs, a heavy sigh that young children shouldn’t know. Jimin doesn’t like it. “Someone didn’t bring enough to share,” Kookie mumbles once more, it sounds like maybe his fingers are in his mouth, words muffled by something. “But Tae Tae hyungie said that it was okay to bring it.”

It’s like trying to solve the world's hardest puzzle attempting to pull any sense from kids. Jimin’s brain hurts. “What did this someone bring?”

“Popcorn,” Kookie explains, he still won't look at Jimin. “Tae Tae hyungie said that popcorn is a good snack. It was leftovers. He said to bring it.”

There’s something that pulls sharply at Jimin’s heart as he glues together the little pieces of the boy’s story. Clearly Kookie didn’t understand that he was supposed to bring enough snacks for everyone in his class and told his hyung that he just needed to bring snacks. It’s an easy mistake for kids to make, especially someone so small, after all.

But what Jimin is struggling to comprehend is why a teacher, a qualified childcare professional, told a boy who mustn’t be older than 5, that he couldn’t join in with the rest of the school just because of a misunderstanding.

Injustice stinks heavily in the air and Jimin isn’t okay with that one little bit.

With a thoughtful hum, Jimin lowers himself a little to be more at eye level with Kookie, but still the boy doesn’t look up at him. “That sounds like a misunderstanding to me,” he explains.

Through the thick curtain of chocolate brown hair, Jimin can just about see the boy’s face crumbling like paper. “Miss-undy-stand-y?” he repeats, softly.

Jimin chuckles gently. “Misunderstanding,” he repeats, slowly this time. “It happens when people are confused. If they don’t understand what someone has asked them to do, it can create a misunderstanding.” Kookie looks up at him this time, head cocked as he listens to Jimin’s explanation with rapt attention, little brain trying it’s best to comprehend it. “I think that perhaps you—”

Kookie lets out a long aggressive shhh through his teeth, shaking his head viciously. “Not Kookie ,” he implores, the apples of his cheeks red. “ Someone .”

“Right, right, of course,” Jimin nods, biting down on his lip to keep himself from laughing. “I think that perhaps someone , misunderstood what their teacher told them and thought they only needed to bring snacks for themselves and not for all their friends. That’s a misunderstanding.”

Nodding along with Jimin’s words, Kookie’s eyes grow wider and wider, softening around the edges as relief washes over him. “It’s not selfish?” he asks and Jimin has never wanted to smack a full grown adult so hard in his life. He’s going to be having words with Yoongi over the fact the kindergarten teacher is an asshole.

“It’s not selfish at all ,” Jimin emphasises, holding Kookie’s gaze. “Misunderstandings happen all the time, even to grown ups like me,” Jimin continues. “Do you think I’m selfish?” he asks and realises after he’s asked that Kookie doesn’t really know anything about him.

“Jimin-ssi likes yellow,” Kookie replies. “He’s not a stranger. He’s not selfish.” His tone is confident and assured, as if confessing his thoughts to a jury of his peers in a court of law. Jimin vaguely wonders how liking yellow relates to not being selfish, but then thinks better than to question the inner workings of a child. Though, now Jimin feels bad for not reading all those parenting books Yoongi not so subtly left around the house. He bets they have one or two things to say that would have better helped in this situation.

“Then neither is this someone we’ve been talking about,” Jimin adds, smile big and soft across his face. “So wherever this someone is, I hope they know that they’re not selfish.”

“It okay, I tell them,” Kookie reassures, nodding like a bobble head once more.

Jimin goes to thank the boy, warmth blossoming in his chest, when the door to the receptionists office snaps open and Kookie jumps away from the window like he’s just been burnt. Jimin has to strain his neck to see who’s just walked in, but the angle of the window is just not helping him at all .

“Jeon Jungkook, what on earth are you doing?” a woman’s voice scolds and Jungkook’s head hangs low on his shoulders, trudging away from the window to stand in the centre of the room facing the door.

Jimin can see the boy’s pale pink lips for the first time, muttering something under his breath that is far too quiet for Jimin to hear on the outside of the office.

But clearly, the woman in the doorway heard him perfectly fine. “You are supposed to be sitting in the Principal's office doing your homework. You know you’re not allowed in the front office.” Her voice is sharp, piercing, far too nasty a tone to be held with a child, even if the child has supposedly done something wrong.

“Excuse me,” Jimin calls, irritation laced deep through his words. He hears the sound of footsteps across wooden flooring before a young woman, possibly younger than Jimin, pops into view of the window.

Jimin sees the exact moment that the deeply etched irritation across her face is wiped clean with a pleasant professional smile. “Oh, hello, sorry to keep you waiting, can I help?”

With lips pressed into a thin line, Jimin lets a long impatient sigh pass his lips. “Actually, yes I was—”

“Wait, oh my god,” the woman gushes, practically running closer to the window. “You’re Park Jimin,” she exclaims, finger pointed in Jimin’s direction. Her hair is a box dye job blonde with dark roots more than 2 inches thick on the crown of her head. Her makeup is dense to impress, lips painted a glossy pink, clothing far too tight fitting and impractical for her job description and everything about her screams self-involved . “I love your music,” she squeals. “Your last album deserved more wins; it was so good and—"

“Are you a teacher here?” Jimin interrupts, feeling annoyance prickle across his skin like an irritating itch he just can’t scratch. 

The woman nods, and if her foundation wasn’t as thick as it is Jimin thinks she might be blushing under it. “I’m Cha Minsoo, the kindergarten teacher,” she explains and the furrow to Jimin’s brow deepens.

“Right,” Jimin replies, voice curt. “So you’re the one who called my nephew selfish?

The light across the woman’s face fades, lips down turning. “Ex-excuse me?”  

“Kookie told me that he’s not allowed to participate in the teddy bears picnic with his friends and his teacher called him selfish,” Jimin elaborates.

Cha Minsoo looks as though she’s been smacked in the face with a rubber chicken and is struggling to come to terms with it. “I’m, I’m a little confused here…” she begins.

Jimin scoffs. “You’re preaching to the choir,” he snaps back with a roll of his eyes. “Kookie brought snacks, he didn’t understand that it needed to be enough to share, but he still contributed something , therefore he should be allowed to participate.”

With a raise of her hands, motion defensive and face a mask of shock, Cha Minsoo takes a step back from the window. “I sent letters home with the kids; he knew that he had to—”

“He’s fucking three,” Jimin retorts.

“I’m fucking three,” Kookie parrots, the first thing he’s said in a while and Jimin’s stomach drops, practically forgetting that the impressionable child was still here.

Jimin narrows the boy with a worried expression. “Don’t repeat that, that’s a bad word.” 

Thankfully, Cha Minsoo is too preoccupied with other matters than to scold the boy for swearing. “Jeon Jungkook, do you know this man?”

The confidence across Kookie’s face droops as he’s narrowed with a sharp glare from his teacher. His bottom lip wobbles, he scuffs the toe of his left foot into the flooring and he fiddles nervously with his hands. “Jimin-ssi likes yellow,” he says. “He’s not a stranger.”

Jesus Christ .

“If it’s snacks you want, then it’s snacks you’ll get,” Jimin announces, the need to assert justice into an awful situation flaming through his veins. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

“Park-ssi,” Cha Minsoo calls after Jimin as he storms his way out of the school. “Where are you going I…”

But Jimin’s anger is too loud in his ears to reply to the terrible teacher.

____________

When Jimin returns not ten minutes later, it’s with two carrier bags filled to the brim with every single snack that the convenience store down the street stocked. He rustles them triumphantly in the air as he saunters up to the receptionists window, pride pulling a shit-eating grin across his face.

“Right, Cha-seongsangnim, I have the snacks so—” his words cut off short, arms dropping to his sides as he’s greeted by a kindly, older looking woman, with greying hair scraped back into a no nonsense bun. Her hair is pulled so tight that it smooths some of the wrinkles in her face. But there’s a softness to her eyes, a gentleness around her mouth, and Jimin’s annoyance bleeds from his skin. Clearly this woman is the right type of person to be around kids.

“Oh, Park-ssi, it’s good to see you again,” she greets, standing from her desk and tottering over to the window. Jimin should really do a better job at remembering his husband’s co-workers, considering he helps out so often. But Jimin had never been good with names and faces, always polite and considerate to everyone regardless of whether they’ve met before or not.

Her aged hands pull out a small book from a draw by the window, smile soft. “Your husband has been calling you.”

Well fuck, that’s not good.

With an awkward smile, Jimin laughs mechanically. “I was a little busy.”

“Life of a celebrity and all that,” she winks, clearly echoing words Jimin must have told her before. Jimin feels so god damn awful that he doesn’t remember her. “My my, you brought a lot of snacks.”

Looking down at the heavy bags in his hands, Jimin cocks his head to one side, momentarily forgetting why he’s here. “Oh, yeah,” he says, shuffling both bags into his left hand so he can sign his name into the visitors book the receptionist is now pushing through the open window. “Kookie told me that he didn’t bring enough to share, so I got more.”

“Kookie?” the woman ponders, watching Jimin’s hand scribble across the book. “Are you referring to little Jeon Jungkook?” she asks and Jimin nods, dropping the pen ontop of the visitor’s book.

He separates the two bags across both his hands once more and straightens his back. “I’m his uncle.”

Ever so slightly, the receptionist’s eyes narrow. “No you’re not,” she corrects. “Park-seongsangnim would have mentioned something about it.”

Jimin’s ears tint red, panic awash in his system. “Not like, a blood uncle,” he clarifies. “He’s a kid of a family friend of mine. I didn’t know he went to this school until I saw him and…” The lie is unconvincing even to Jimin and it has him suppressing a cringe.  

“Right,” the receptionist replies, clearly not buying what Jimin is selling. “And you brought along the snacks he forgot I take it?”

Jimin nods. “Where’s his teacher?”

“Probably with her class, the kids are making their way out to the school field,” she explains, closing the visitor’s book gently, pen still tucked away inside. “But Jungkook is waiting in the principal’s office, you two can walk over together if you’d like?”

Jimin nods, eyes looking anywhere then at the receptionists face. “Yeah, thanks,” he replies, feeling incredibly bad. The woman’s not wearing a name tag and Jimin makes a mental note to ask Yoongi for her name to send her some flowers at a later date. She’s clearly bending the rules a little bit for Jimin here.

“You’re a good person, Park-ssi,” the receptionist praises, almost as if hearing Jimin’s internal worry over why this woman isn’t more pressed that a stranger has taken a keen interest into a child they clearly don’t know. There’s sincerity thick on her voice, however, as she buzzes the door open for Jimin, and it settles heavy in his chest, warm and reassuring.

“Thank you,” Jimin replies, stepping through the door that the woman has so kindly held open for him. “I promise I’m not shady or anything.”

The woman chuckles, gesturing towards the direction they need to take before leading Jimin down a corridor just to the right of the main entrance. “I don’t doubt that,” she agrees, back hunched a little from years of desk work. “Park-seongsangnim doesn’t appear the type to marry someone shady. Besides, my granddaughter tells me of all the money you donate to children’s charities and the amount of charity work you squeeze into your busy schedule is more than admirable.”

Even after years in the spotlight and constant accolades and praises to his name, Jimin is still far too humble a being not to blush completely beetroot. “Please, that’s too much,” he mutters.

But the receptionist merely offers Jimin a knowing look, sliding open a mahogany coloured door. “Jeon Jungkook, you have a visitor,” she says, and before Jimin can snap his attention into the room, he feels a force collide against his legs so strong he has to take a step back to stop himself from falling over.

“Jimin-ssi,” Jungkook greets into Jimin’s legs. “You came back.”

“Of course!” Jimin exclaims, dropping the bags on instinct and placing his hands against the boy’s back in an awkward hug. “I brought snacks,” he offers unhelpfully, not really sure what he should say when a kid has wrapped themselves around his legs and is currently nuzzling his face into Jimin’s knees.

His heart is beating wildly in his chest, his palms are sweaty as they splay against the small boy’s back. Is this nerves? Jimin hasn’t been nervous of anything in years, considering he spends a majority of his time on stage in front of thousands of people. So why in the hell is he terrified of something so small?

Jungkook makes no sign of removing himself from around Jimin’s legs and the receptionist chuckles softly. “Jungkook is a very affectionate child,” she explains, but Jimin notices her tone is a touch sad.

“I’ve been told I give very good hugs,” Jimin replies, eyes downcast at the gentle smile across Jungkook’s pale lips. Instinctively, Jimin runs a hand through the boy’s hair, pushing the long bangs away from his face. “Shall we go and have a teddy bear’s picnic?” he asks.

Nodding against Jimin’s knees, grip tightening ever so slightly around the legs he’s currently hugging, Jungkook giggles. “You smell nice,” he says.

“Thank you,” Jimin replies, cheeks pink. “Do you have your teddy bear?”

Finally, Jungkook removes himself from around Jimin’s legs, turning his large brown eyes up at Jimin. “Kookie has question, Jimin-ssi?” he asks, a pair of sweet little bunny teeth poking out of his mouth and embedding into his bottom lip.

“Jimin- hyung ,” Jimin corrects softly, fingers still carding through the boy’s sweetly curled dark hair.

“Jimin-hyung,” Jungkook starts again. “Are bunnies allowed to come?”

“Come where?” Jimin asks.

The receptionist, who is still hovering in the doorway, chuckles softly. “To the teddy bears picnic, of course,” she explains.

“Of course,” Jungkook parrots, cheeks puffed out like he cannot believe Jimin didn’t understand him. “Are bunnies allowed?”

Jimin cocks his head to one side. “It’s been a while since I last had a conversation with a teddy bear,” he begins, smile big across his face. “But the last I heard, Teddy bears and bunnies were very good friends.” Jungkook nods, shoulders relaxing and a small smile growing on his face. “Did you bring a bunny friend today?”

Nodding again, Jungkook reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, faded pink rabbit toy that’s attached to a keychain. It fits perfectly snug in Jungkook’s hand, and if the worn old appearance of the little rabbit is anything to go by, Jimin thinks Jungkook must love this little keychain toy an awful lot.

“This is Cookey,” he explains, holding the toy into the air, as high up as his little arms can reach trying to wave him in Jimin’s face. “He’s not a baby.”

With a chuckle, Jimin reaches out and pretends to shake the little rabbit’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Cookey,” he greets. “I like yellow.”

“Cookey likes pink,” Jungkook elaborates, bringing the toy back down so he can stroke a chubby little finger over its face. “He likes lettuce too. He doesn’t like carrots. Bunnies can’t eat carrots.”

Jimin didn’t know that. “They can’t?”

Jungkook nods once more, eyes overflowing with happiness as he smiles down to his toy. “Tae Tae-hyungie said it’s not good for them.”

“Wow, your Tae Tae-hyungie is very smart,” says Jimin, patting the boy on the top of his head. “I didn’t even know that.”

“Time is ticking, boys,” the receptionist interrupts. “If you don’t hurry then all the good sandwiches will be gone.”

A gasp falls from Jungkook’s lips, eyes wide. “Even the egg ones?”

With a raspy chuckle, the receptionist folds her arms about her chest. “You had best get a move on.”

Without even thinking about it, Jungkook slips his hand into Jimin’s and tugs on his arm. “We have to go,” he explains, voice very gravely serious.

“Okay,” Jimin agrees, feeling a warmth blossom in his chest that makes him feel incredibly light. He reaches down for the bags of snacks that had gone forgotten by his feet, scooping them both up with one hand before he lets Jungkook lead him out of the room. “Do you know the way?”

“Yes,” Jungkook sing songs. “Good bye Lim-ssi,” he waves to the receptionist as they slip pass.

“Have fun,” the receptionist waves back.

Jimin has no hands to wave too, but he does offer the kindly woman a small bow and a thank you before he’s being dragged by a three year old through the school.

____________

Yoongi is glaring at Jimin from where he’s sat with his 6 th grade class. His glare is a good mix of disappointment from the fact Jimin was unsurprisingly late today and confusion towards the little kindergartener currently chatting Jimin’s ear off.

Jungkook, on the other hand, has half an egg sandwich in his mouth and the other half is dripping down his arm as he waves his little hands about animatedly. Through the food lolling around in the boy’s mouth, Jimin can’t really understand a single word he’s saying, but there’s a light in Jungkook’s big doe eyes that Jimin wouldn’t want to ever extinguish.

Clearly, though, Yoongi has a lot of questions. Questions Jimin would be more than willing to answer if it weren’t for the fact he’s giving Jungkook all his attention. He knows that later, when Jimin does spare his husband some time, the man will big a big pouty baby and Jimin will spend the evening pampering him to try and appease him.

But for right now, Jungkook is all that matters to Jimin.

With his guilt for not bringing enough snacks for all his classmates well and truly squashed, Jungkook is a real chatterbox. During the brief intervals in which his mouth is void of food, he natters about anything and everything that flitters across his mind, incredibly excited to share his fleeting thoughts with Jimin.

Eventually, Jungkook swallows down his food and Jimin reaches out for his face and hands with a wet tissue. “You shouldn’t talk with your mouthful,” he chides gently.

Jungkook very willingly lets Jimin clean him up, even tilting his head from side to side to help. “But I want to talk to Jimin-ssi.”

Every time Jungkook so much as smiles at Jimin his heart contracts painfully in his chest, growing twice as big as it was. He swipes the wipe across the boy’s mouth, who puckers his lips to help Jimin in his cleaning process. “I’m happy you want to talk with me,” Jimin says, booping Jungkook’s nose for good measure. It scrunches up like a little bunny nose, mouth pulling into a cheeky little grin that shows off his front teeth. “But you should swallow your food first,” Jimin explains softly.

Jungkook thinks about that for a moment, staring at the other half of his sandwich that’s clutched in his little paws. His stare is filled with hilarious intensity, like a man scorned. But eventually Jungkook nods, apparently coming to some kind of mental decision, and shoves the sandwich into his mouth in one big bite. It’s clearly too much food for the kid to handle and it pushes his mochi cheeks out like a little chipmunk hiding nuts.

Jimin can’t help but giggle, tossing the dirty tissue into the big black trash bag in the middle of their groups’ circle. There’s an adoring light that brightens across the boy’s face at seeing Jimin giggle. It has Jungkook smiling too, cheeks filled with food and lips opening to show Jimin the half eaten sandwich in his mouth. Jimin really just cannot find it within himself to scold the boy for not chewing with his mouth closed. Distantly he remembers his own mother scolding him for that when he was younger, and as an adult that Jungkook can look up to, he thinks he should be teaching Jungkook to have good manners whilst eating.

But seeing Jungkook happy trumps everything, even good manners.

In the half an hour or so the two have been together, Jimin has watched Jungkook interact with his classmates and other teachers and has deemed that the boy is too sweet, too precious and too pure for this world. Not to mention the kid is far more polite than most adults Jimin meets now-adays.

The precious boy had gone running up to his friends, dragging Jimin along behind him like a limp kite unable to catch on the wind. “This is Jimin-hyung,” Jungkook had said. “He likes yellow, he’s not a stranger, he has snacks. Who wants snacks?” And then proceeded to offer every single child in his class the endless amounts of snacks Jimin had brought for Jungkook before sitting down and eating some himself.

Unfortunately, Cha-ssi was nowhere to be seen and therefore Jimin couldn’t loudly gloat about how selfless a child Jungkook was and how much of a shit teacher Cha-ssi was.

Not much longer after the two had sat to eat their lunch together, a small girl with thick bangs that covered her eyebrows and left her face in a constant mask of shock, asked Jimin where his teddy bear was. When Jimin had politely explained that his teddy bear friend was busy today and couldn’t attend, Jungkook had shyly placed Cooky on Jimin’s knee and said they could share him for the day.

At that point Jimin was pretty certain his heart stopped beating and he nearly went into cardiac arrest over how goddamn adorable this boy is.

There’s a gooey kind of smile on Jimin’s face as he recalls the brief time he’s spent with Jungkook, and he’s only brought around from his daydreaming by a slight tugging at his shirt. He looks down to find Jungkook looking up at him with wide eyes and a thumb stuck in his mouth.

“Hyung,” he whispers around his thumb. “Can Kookie play tag too?” he asks pointing to a small gaggle of kindergarten kids that are currently running around the school field, cuddly companions and food long forgotten.

With a huge smile and a pat to Jungkook’s head, Jimin nods enthusiastically. “Of course,” he says, waving the little pink bunny in front of Jungkook’s face. “Me and Cooky will watch you from here, okay?”

“’Kay,” Jungkook sing songs, stumbling to his feet and rushing over to his friends. Jimin’s smile is sunshine bright across his face as he watches Jungkook go, a warmth blossoming in his chest that he’s never really felt before.

But then a hand comes down onto his shoulder, long bony fingers digging into his skin and Jimin realises that without Jungkook around, he no longer has a shield to protect himself from an incredibly pouty husband.

“You owe me like, at least three hours of hand holding,” Yoongi mumbles before flopping down to sit next to Jimin. “And I get to be the little spoon tonight.”

With a roll of his eyes, Jimin pulls Yoongi’s hand off of his shoulder, over his head and holds it gently in his lap. “Is that all?”

Yoongi is very purposefully not looking at Jimin, chin resting in his free hand, elbow propped against his knee. “I would be madder,” he mumbles, face pleasantly flushed. “But you’re too cute.”

Jimin squeezes his husbands’ hand reassuringly. “I know,” he agrees, easily. “I’m the cutest, bestest, most wonderful husband in the whole world, right?” he asks, fluttering his eyelashes for good measure. He knows Yoongi can see him do so out of the corner of his eye.

There’s a long deep sigh that tumbles out of Yoongi’s mouth. “What do you want?”

“I want Cha-seonsangnim gone,” Jimin replies without a beat of hesitation.

Yoongi snorts. “We’re not in the mafia.”

“But like, you’re in cahoots with the board of education right? You got them teacher connections, right?” Jimin asks, playing with Yoongi’s fingers mindlessly.

His husband offers him a confused look. “It was a bad idea to let you watch The Sopranos ,” he says rubbing a finger at his temple. Jimin watches the action and slips his hand out of Yoongi’s to route around in his satchel. “What do you have against the kindergarten teacher?”

Jimin’s fingers close around the box of painkillers he was looking for and carefully pushes them into Yoongi’s hands. “I told you not to wait up for me to come home; you get headaches if you don’t sleep enough.” Yoongi just grunts in reply before slipping the painkillers into his pocket. “And I have a lot against the kindergarten teacher, she’s my enemy.”

Yoongi snorts. “You met her for the first time today.”

“You don’t have to know someone long to know that they’re a bad person,” Jimin reasons, eyes slipping away from his husband’s face to search out Jungkook amongst the sea of children. He sports him easily, the boy’s little bunny smile vibrant across the field like a beacon of light. “She told Jungkook he was a selfish child for not understanding he needed to bring in enough snacks for the whole class, not just for himself.”  

There’s a momentary pause and an uneasy stillness from Yoongi that speaks volumes more than words ever could. Quite often people mistake Yoongi for being shy, reserved and quiet, but that’s not entirely true. Jimin’s husband is a little more introverted than himself, sure, but he’s not timid or reserved. In fact he has a great deal to say, a great deal of good wisdom and important thoughts that he takes his time composing so as to remain articulate. It’s one of the things Jimin does so love about his husband; he always knows the right things to say, the right things to do. He’s the rock of support that Jimin will forever be grateful for.

Eventually, Yoongi shifts where he’s sat, fingers interlinking together and eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “I see,” is all he says, and Jimin would question him further if his ears didn’t pick up a sudden cry of worry that has his head snapping across the field.

He’s just in time to watch Jungkook come tumbling against the grass, hands too late to cushion his fall and so his shoulder smacks against the earth. Jimin is up on his feet before his brain can even comprehend what he’s doing, running full pelt across the field. His stomach flips, his heart catches in his throat as he skids to a stop next to the boy laying face down in the grass.

“Kookie?” Jimin asks, dropping to his knees and gently pushing the boy to roll onto his back. “Are you okay?”

There’s a bit of a stunned look across the boy’s face like he’s just had a surprise photograph taken and the flash was extra bright. There’s also some serious grass stains on his shirt sleeve but other than that there appears to be no harm and the relief that washes over Jimin feels like a wave of cold ocean water.

“Whoops,” Jungkook mutters, still somewhat dazed. Slowly he pulls himself to sit up right, blinking his big doe eyes at Jimin. “Hyung, hyung did you see?” he asks, cheeks flushed. “Kookie go fast.”

There’s just a smidgen of dirt on the apple of Jungkook’s cheek and in an act that embodies the very essence of his own grandmother, Jimin licks the pad of his thumb and scrubs the boy’s cheek clean. “I did see,” he says softly. “So fast you went over your feet.”

Jungkook giggles, feet knocking together. “Kookie fast,” he says. “Cheetahs are fast, too.”

“Are you a cheetah?” Jimin asks, tucking a few loose strands of long chocolate brown hair behind Jungkook’s ear.

“Cheetah’s are cats,” he says in reply. “Big cats. They’re not pets.”

Nodding in agreement, Jimin sits back on his hunches giving the boy another quick once over just in case. “I’m learning a lot today,” he says, eyes trailing down the boy’s bare legs and spotting no cuts or scrapes. “You’re smart, Kookie.”

“We go to the zoo and have teddy bears picnic and there’s no ice cream so the Cheetah eats chips,” he explains making, as expected, little to no sense. But Jimin doesn’t care, simply nods as though Jungkook just told him a story that could win an Oscar for best original screenplay.

Then he notices the cause for Jungkook’s little tumble and Jimin flops onto his butt and crosses his legs. “You should make sure your shoes are tied before you go running around, Kookie,” Jimin says, reaching out a finger to tap against Jungkook’s worn grey trainers.

Looking a little sheepish, Jungkook sways his feet from side to side and shrugs. Jimin hums trying to think how old he was when he learnt how to tie his shoe.  Surely it was around Jungkook’s age? And if Jungkook’s parents dressed him in laced shoes that must mean he knows how to tie them, right?

“Did you forget?” Jimin asks, purposefully keeping his tone light and gentle. Jungkook merely shrugs again. “Do you know how to tie shoes?” Another shrug and Jimin tries his best to keep his concern off his face. “I see,” he whispers softly before shuffling across the grass until he’s sat with Jungkook’s feet in his lap. “Well it just so happens I am an expert at shoelaces.”

There’s no answer or noise of understanding from Jungkook, his fingers are in his mouth, teeth nibbling on his nails and his eyes wide and glossy like the surface of a lake as he watches Jimin. It’s almost as though the boy is uncertain if he should be more sheepish or not, almost as though he’s waiting to be scolded...

Jimin rolls up his sleeves and takes the two laces in his hands. “Are you watching?” he asks Jungkook. The boy nods and Jimin turns his eyes back down to the task at hand. “First,” he says, looping the two laces until they look like bunny ears. “You have to make a bunny.”

“Bunny starts with B,” Jungkook says, voice very small and a complete 180 to the chattering animated boy he had just been eating lunch with. But the fact he found his voice again is enough for Jimin.

“That’s right, clever Kookie,” Jimin praises, wishing he could offer the boy some tactile head pats of affection and praise. “Next, the bunny goes around the tree and through the hole—” Jimin is slow in his demonstrations, feeling the doe eyed stare burning into his hands. When he has the bow tied, he pulls on it gently until it’s snug and secure. “And don’t forget to pull tight.”

There’s a gasp of glee from Jungkook before he claps his hands. “Again?” he asks.

Jimin giggles. “It’s a good thing you have two feet,” he agrees, switching Jungkook’s left foot out for his right foot. “Do you remember what we do first?”

“Bunny,” Jungkook says. “B is for bunny and bunnies tie shoelaces.”

Well, that’s close enough Jimin supposes.

“Good job,” he praises once more, looping the laces into bunny ears. “Then around the tree, through the hole and—“

“Pull tight,” Jungkook mutters, practically a whisper as he watches the laces move through Jimin’s fingers with rapt attention. “One more, please?” he asks again and Jimin is all too happy to oblige, tugging out the bows in Jungkook’s laces with one tug.

After two more demonstrations, Jungkook reaches for the laces himself and whilst chanting the directions out loud, clumsily tries to tie his own laces. He can’t do it at all the first time, Nor the second time, in fact. But Jimin is patient and guides his hands when Jungkook struggles to remember and by the seventh attempt the boy has managed to tie an untidy lopsided bow.

Jimin has never felt so proud in all his life and he’s won several Daesungs.

“Well done, Kookie,” Jimin praises once more, heart so full at the bright bunny smile he gets in return. “You’ve done a great job.”

____________

Like all good things, however, the teddy bears picnic comes to an end and parents arrive to collect their children and take them home for the evening. Jungkook doesn’t look all that pleased to be parting ways with Jimin. In fact, he’s currently sitting in the elder’s lap, arms looped around Jimin’s stomach and face smashed into his shirt. He hasn’t said it out loud that he doesn’t want to go home, but his body language very clearly speaks for itself.

“Will Tae-Tae hyungie pick you up today?” Jimin asks, hands absentmindedly running up and down Jungkook’s back. Jungkook just nods nose scrunching against Jimin’s chest. “He won’t be able to see you if you’re hiding.”

Jungkook mutters something inaudible that sounds very much like don’t care and maybe Jimin holds the little boy just a little tighter.

“Hey now,” he says softly. “You’ll see me again.”

Two big brown eyes appear between the wrinkles of Jimin’s T-shirt, peering up at Jimin as though the elder hangs the stars in the sky. He doesn’t say anything, but there’s a pout on his lips that has Jimin thinking the boy doesn’t believe his words. So instead, Jimin lifts his hand off of Jungkook’s back and points in the direction of class 6-4 who are lined up incredibly neatly by the school exit.

“Do you see the small teacher with black hair standing with the 6 th graders?” he asks. Jungkook unwillingly turns his head in the direction Jimin is pointing, worry deepening across his face. “That’s Park-seonsangnim, he’s my husband and sometimes I come and pick him up at the end of the day.”

Jungkook is silent again, staring intently at Yoongi who just at the right moment, turns his eyes over to the pair of them and offers them a small smile. Jungkook flushes and buries his face back in Jimin’s shirt.

So cute, fuck.

“Would it be okay if I came and saw you sometimes after school?”Jimin asks. “Only if you want me to.”

Little paws tangle themselves into Jimin’s shirt and hang on for dear life, breath stuttering past his lips. “Kookie want you to,” he mumbles just loudly enough for Jimin to hear. God his heart is going through it today, Jimin wraps his arms extra tightly around Jungkook’s back careful not to crush him.

“I am very busy with work, though,” Jimin adds, not wanting to set the boy’s expectations too high. “So I can’t come every day, but I will come sometimes.”

“Sometimes.” Jungkook parrots. “Sometimes Kookie eat cereal for dinner, sometimes Kookie wears the blue socks.”

“And sometimes Jimin-hyung will come and see you after school,” Jimin adds, pulling Jungkook out of his chest to hold the boy’s gaze. “Can you say that so I know you understand?”

Jungkook nods. “Sometimes Jimin-hyung will come see Kookie after school,” he mumbles, still a little uncertain. “Jimin-hyung likes yellow. He’s not a stranger. He’s married to the teacher who is a cat.”

Jimin blanches. “The teacher ... who is a cat?” he repeats and Jungkook nods before turning around and pointing a little chubby finger right at Yoongi.

It takes all of Jimin’s mental strength to stop himself from bursting into uncontrollable fits of laughter. He runs his fingers soothingly through Jungkook’s hair, pushing the chocolate strands away from his round little face. “He is a cat, you’re right,” he agrees. “What kind of cat is he?”

The little boy has to think for a moment, pulling a finger up to his chin and tapping it gently. “A cat who teachers big kids,” Jungkook finally decides and this time, Jimin can’t help but chuckle just a little.

“Jeon Jungkook!” the brisk shrill voice of Cha-ssi calls from across the school field, not even bothering to come over and fetch her student for herself. Jimin grinds his teeth to keep a smile on his face, even as Jungkook flinches at the call of his name and shrinks a little in on himself. “Your babysitter is here.”

Babysitter? Not brother?

Pulling himself reluctantly out of Jimin’s lap, Jungkook bows politely at Jimin and then makes his little pink rabbit keychain bow as well. “Bye bye,” he says before turning on his heels.

Jimin catches the crook of the boy’s arm gently before he runs off waving his pinkie finger in Jungkook’s face. “One more thing,” he says, hurriedly. “You have to promise hyung that if you are worried or if there are any more misunderstandings, you go and tell the cat teacher who teaches the big kids, okay?” Jungkook nods, and Jimin smiles reaching out to tangle their pinkies together. “You have to promise,” he explains.

Nodding again, Jungkook wriggles his pinkie finger against Jimin’s. “Promise.”

Jimin isn’t ashamed to admit that he might have held onto the boy’s pinkie for a little longer than necessary, but something claws at his chest, screams in the back of his head not to let the boy go at all . Jimin has never really been a kid person, has only ever pondered the idea of having kids because it’s everything Yoongi has ever wanted. Yoongi was born to look after kids, he’s kind and caring and so patient with them that it would be a waste if he didn’t.

Whereas Jimin, on the other hand, he can barely take care of himself half the time. Putting the life of a small child into his hands is just not a very good idea despite what Yoongi may think about Jimin’s compitency.

“Thank you,” Jungkook says, the first to untangle their pinkies. He bows once more before running off across the field for the school exit, shoe laces securely tied so as no more accidents can be had.

“No,” Jimin thinks, slumping against the grass and placing the backs of his hands over his eyes. “Thank you .”

Chapter Text

New Message

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Cha Minsoo-ssi of Seoul East Elementary School, Kindergarten division.

Dear Kim Namjoon-ssi,

I’m writing to inform you about a recent incident in which neglect from a teacher, Cha Minsoo, resulted in a child being excluded from school activities. Considering the board of education’s stance on children inclusive learning, I do not feel that it is within the school, nor the students’, best interests to continue having the supposed licensed educator teaching.

If you require formal evidence and/or further written examples of the teacher in questions’ neglect and overall terrible conduct on the job then I am more than happy to provide it for you.

Regards,

Park Yoongi

Seoul East Elementary School,

6-4 homeroom teacher.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: RE: Cha Minsoo-ssi of Seoul East Elementary School, Kindergarten division.

Hyung,

Why do you keep doing this to me?

I’m the director of modern foreign languages and distribution of native language teachers in Junior High schools. I have nothing at all to do with the hiring and firing of personnel on any level, especially elementary.

And why do you gotta make it so formal? We’ve known each other 13 years. 13 YEARS. These emails are encrypted and no one else can read them but us.

Go through the right channels to file a complaint, I’m not your seedy right hand man and this isn’t a seedy mafia movie.

Joon.

P.S. are we still down for beers at your place this weekend? LMK

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: RE:Cha Minsoo-ssi of Seoul East Elementary School, Kindergarten division.

Dear Kim Namjoon-ssi,

So what I gathered from your email is that you, as a representative of the board of education, do not care that there is child neglect going on in one of the very schools in your jurisdiction.

I see.

Regards,

Park Yoongi

Seoul East Elementary School,

6-4 homeroom teacher.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: RE: Cha Minsoo-ssi of Seoul East Elementary School, Kindergarten division.

Don’t do this, Park Yoongi, I know where you live.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: RE: Cha Minsoo-ssi of Seoul East Elementary School, Kindergarten division.

Dear Kim Namjoon-ssi,

I am just a concerned educator worried for the safety of young impressionable and innocent children. I don’t think this deserves to be retaliated with threatening behaviour.

Regards,

Park Yoongi

Seoul East Elementary School,

6-4 homeroom teacher.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: RE: Cha Minsoo-ssi of Seoul East Elementary School, Kindergarten division.

I’m not threatening you, you’re the one threatening me.

Do you want me to go bald, hyung?

Because that’s what you’re doing to me.

I’m gonna be bald at 29 and then no one will ever want to marry me and my family tree will wither and die.

Think of my parents, hyung, think of the dowry they have saved that will all go to waste because you’re turning me bald.

Dear Kim Namjoon,

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: RE: Cha Minsoo-ssi of Seoul East Elementary School, Kindergarten division.

I would like to remind you of the incident on February 23 rd of last year.

Perhaps then you will reconsider.

Regards,

Park Yoongi

Seoul East Elementary School,

6-4 homeroom teacher.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: RE:: Cha Minsoo-ssi of Seoul East Elementary School, Kindergarten division.

How long are you going to lord that over my head? That’s not fair.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: RE:Cha Minsoo-ssi of Seoul East Elementary School, Kindergarten division.

Indefinitely.

Let me know how it goes.

Jimin said to bring your own beer Saturday.

____________

As the days tick by, Yoongi finds himself automatically peaking over towards the kindergarten playground every now and then. Sometimes he even snaps his head towards the sound of giggling babies in the hopes that he’ll see a happy looking Jeon Jungkook playing without a care in the world. But most of the time, because he’s far too busy with his own class, Yoongi barely gets a glimpse of the boy his husband cannot stop talking about.

He’s never actually spoken to the kid before, knows nothing much about him other than his name and the fact he joined the kindergarten class late in the year. He at least knows what he looks like, after watching his ` I’m not a kid person` husband spend a whole afternoon glued to the boy’s hip. It’s not often that Yoongi gets to see Jimin interact with kids, even when he volunteers he sticks to helping out with the older kids because they’re less sticky and know how to spell their own name .

“Oh, Cha-seonsaengnim, I heard today is your last day,” one of the first grade teachers, Joh Jiwoo, says from the otherside of the staff room. The two of them are the same age, Yoongi vaguely remembers, both pretty young teachers, so no wonder she cares that Cha-ssi is leaving.

No one else in the school is sad to see the terrible kindergarten teacher leave. In fact, they’re all pretty happy.

Cha-seonsaengnim looks calm and collected, no way near as concerned as she should be over the fact she was fired. “Yes, it is,” she agrees with unemotive ease. “On to better things.”

“We’ll miss you,” Joh-seonsaengnim whines, lips in full pout mode. “The children will miss you too,” she adds and Yoongi mentally scoffs, turning back to grading his class’s science tests. 

Not even the fleas will mourn your departure , he thinks to himself.

It’s not like Jimin hates kids. His siblings are all far younger than him and he looks after them so well you’d think he was more their parent figure than an older brother. It’s only really Jimin who thinks he’s not good with kids, avoiding them like they’re fragile glass figurines worth more than his annual salary and could shatter at the gentlest touch.

Yoongi thinks Jimin will make an excellent parent one day. When he’s ready for it, that is. He wouldn’t want to rush his husband into anything he doesn’t feel ready for; no matter how desperately Yoongi wants to be a parent himself.

But he can feel things shifting, changing. And it’s all thanks to a chocolate brown haired boy who forgot to bring enough snacks to share with his classmates. Jimin and Yoongi are still eating through the remainder of the snacks two weeks later, mind, because Yoongi’s overly caring husband with a heart too big for his chest brought the entire convenience store for Jeon Jungkook.

Not that Yoongi’s mad. Could never be mad at how compassionate his husband is.

But yes, Yoongi can very well feel change in the air; can see warmth and excitement on Jimin’s face as he asks about Jungkook’s day, even though there used to be distance across his husband’s face whenever the topic of children was brought up.

(Yoongi is only a little bit salty over the fact Jimin asks after Jungkook first before he asks after Yoongi’s.) 

It’s cute, adorable even. But more than anything, Yoongi feels an incredible overwhelming pride at seeing how mature his husband has grown in such a short span of time.

“I’ve never seen you so obsessed with a single child before,” Yoongi comments one night over dinner. Jimin had come to pick him up that day from school. Well, in truth, Jimin had been late in picking Yoongi up that day. Because instead of the two of them slipping home early to get a head start on the weekend, Jimin had snuck into the kindergarten section and had spent 20 minutes finger painting with Jungkook. Even though the classroom should have been tidied away for the night and all painting utensils packed away before lunch.  

By the time Jimin had come to fetch him, Yoongi had managed to grade all of his classes homework for the week despite the fact he was planning to bring them home and grade them on Sunday morning whilst Jimin slept in.

“Am I not allowed to show an interest in one of the kids at your school?” Jimin asks, narrowing his eyes over the rim of his fourth glass of wine. He’s well on his way to finishing the bottle before their dinner is even over to be honest.

There’s a sly smirk on Yoongi’s lips as he chews slowly at his steak. “Of course you are,” he replies, smoothly. “I’m just merely pointing out how cute it is that you’re suddenly a little obsessed with kids.”

“Not all kids,” Jimin is quick to correct. “Just the one kid in particular.” He leans back in his chair, letting out a long sigh. “He’s super cute, Yoonie, you’d understand if you spent just a little time with him.”

Yoongi shrugs. “I think all kids are adorable, kind of the nature of my job.”

“Yes, but Jungkook is way more adorable,” Jimin giggles, hiccupping on his laughter.

There’s the biggest most adoring smile on Yoongi’s face as he watches his husband from across the kitchen table. He really does love seeing Jimin bubbly and carefree. With the restraints and stress of the idol limelight, it’s not often they spend evenings giggling untroubled by work related issues.

If he didn’t know how much Jimin loved singing, Yoongi would have convinced his husband to start working at a job far less anxiety inducing by now.

“Are you sure you still want to wait until our late 30s to have kids?” Yoongi asks, teasing lilt to his voice. “You’re already gushing like a loving father as is.”

Yoongi would never admit out loud that he relishes in the look of pure horror that washes over Jimin’s face. Because he’s a good husband and he loves Jimin and would never think of winding him up purposefully.   

After a few moments of mental composure, Jimin downs the rest of his wine and shoots a glare at Yoongi who is currently hiding his teasing smirk behind his hand. “Just because I enjoyed playing with Kookie doesn’t mean I’m ready for kids of my own,” Jimin explains quickly.

Humming, Yoongi shrugs and returns to his dinner. “Could’ve had me fooled,” he comments offhandedly as he slices off a small bite of steak.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jimin asks, pouring himself another glass of wine and ultimately finishing the bottle off just as Yoongi predicted. He doesn’t have the heart to tell his husband that Jimin had bought the bottle for him as a sorry for being late in picking Yoongi up today and yet Yoongi hasn’t had a single drop of it.

There’s just no getting in the way of Jimin and his wine.

“I watched you all afternoon,” Yoongi elaborates after swallowing his food. “Couldn’t stop myself because I was in utter awe over how easily you took to looking out for that kid. It was like instinct. You didn’t think twice when he stumbled and you rushed over to check he was alright, you promised to see him again but made it clear that he shouldn’t expect you everyday so as not to get his hopes up. Perfectly good caretaker behaviour if you ask me.”

There’s a subtle narrow to Jimin’s eyes. “I still don’t know what you’re implying.”

Yoongi chuckles as he hops to his feet and rounds the table to pull a whining, bratty Jimin up off the chair. He sits in his husband’s seat before pulling Jimin to sit in his lap and wraps his arms securely around his middle. “Baby,” he begins, and Jimin rests his head against Yoongi’s chest. “What I’m saying is that sometimes we might not think we’re ready to tackle important milestones in life, when in reality we’ve been ready a very long time.”

“Yoonie,” Jimin sighs in reply. “I know you want kids, and I do too. In the future when I’m not spending 24 hour days at work, and I can afford to take Christmas and Chuseok off, and we can book a vacation and know I won’t be called into recording at the last minute so we have to cancel the trip.” Jimin shuffles uncomfortably on Yoongi’s lap, twisting his face to press kisses against his husband’s exposed neck. “I want to have kids when I can actually be a parent, not a part time parent. Our kids deserve that.”

“So it’s not that you’re scared?” Yoongi asks, running his fingers through Jimin’s hair.

“No, I’m terrified,” Jimin replies, lips right against Yoongi’s skin and sending goosebumps across the surface of it. “I don’t think I’ll ever not be terrified. But I also know that right now, I’m not ready. And I want to be ready, or at least feel a little more ready than I do now, you know?”

“I know,” Yoongi agrees, releasing his grip around Jimin to cup his warm wine blushed cheeks between his hands and place a delicate kiss against his pouty lips. “I’m very proud of you,” he whispers against the plush of Jimin’s bottom lip. “You’re going to be an amazing parent one day.”

With a gleeful giggle, Jimin wraps his arms around Yoongi's neck to pull him in for a deeper kiss. “I have a wonderful, supportive, incredible husband that helps me be the best I can be,” he explains between kisses. “If I make a good parent one day, it’s because you believe in me.”

____________

Thursdays are the worst day of the week if you were to ask Yoongi. It’s the day before Friday and the exhaustion of 3 full days of work have settled deep into his bones with the sweet respite of the weekend just out of grasp. 

Yoongi loves his job, he really does. But there’s no denying that it’s incredibly draining. So as he trudges through the school at the end of a very long Thursday in which his class decided they didn’t want to be decently behaved today, he arrives at the front office to see a little boy sitting in the receptionists chair.

His chocolate brown hair is a little long and shaggy, in desperate need of a cut, as it falls into his big doe like eyes. He’s fiddling with a pink rabbit on a keychain, swinging his little legs back and forth from where his feet don’t touch the ground. It’s wholly unsettling that Jeon Jungkook looks incredibly calm and collected despite the fact it’s already nearing 4:30pm and the rest of the kindergarten kids went home two hours or so ago. 

It honestly breaks Yoongi’s heart. But he can’t let that show on his face.

So instead, Yoongi smiles softly and leans against the door of the front office, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Everything okay?” he asks gently, but the sudden presence of another person in the room has Jungkook jumping in his seat, head snapping up to look at Yoongi with wide eyes.

His little lips open and close around words he’s not sure he should say, fingers clutching ever so tightly at his keychain toy. “I’m lost,” he says, his voice incredibly quiet. “Must stay here.”

Yoongi furrows his brow. “Did someone tell you to wait here?”

Jungkook nods. “Tae-Tae hyungie says if you’re lost, stay here. The ugly duckling was lost but then he was a swan.”

“That’s right,” Yoongi agrees, voice softening with every syllable. “Your Tae-Tae hyungie is very smart. Do you remember who is coming to pick you up today?” 

There’s a deep pinch of confusion in Jungkook’s brow, lips twisting and legs stilling. He clearly doesn’t remember and looks a little upset with himself that he can’t. “I’m lost,” he says again, and Yoongi feels worry rest heavily on his shoulders as he watches Jungkook curl in on himself. 

“That’s okay,” Yoongi reassures, walking over to the boy and crouching down to his level. “You’re a very good boy for staying here if you’re lost. Because I was able to find you.”

Jungkook peers up at Yoongi through the curtain of hair that drapes over his eyes, they sparkle with unshed tears that Yoongi is determined to keep from falling. “You find, Kookie?” he asks, processing the words slowly. 

With a gentle nod, Yoongi pushes the boy’s hair away from his face and tucks it behind his ears. “Do you know who I am?” 

“You’re the teacher who is a cat who is married to Jimin-hyung who is not a stranger. He likes yellow. Bananas are yellow. We make bunnies on my shoes and with paint,” he explains, face losing the ghostings of worry as he recounts good memories. Yoongi decides to let the comment about the fact he’s been referred to as a cat slide because he’s always been a sucker for the way toddlers make up their own stories to make sense of the world around them. It’s adorable.

“Good job,” he praises, tapping the tip of his finger against Jungkook’s nose. The kid scrunches it like a bunny but rewards Yoongi with a toothy smile that could melt even the coldest of snow. “Is this the famous Cooky I’ve heard so much about?” Yoongi asks, eyes downcast to the keychain toy in Jungkook’s hands.

There’s a sparkle of pure excitement in Jungkook’s big glassy eyes as he gasps up at Yoongi. “You know Cooky?”

“Jimin has told me everything about Cooky,” Yoongi explains. “And about you. I’ve been very excited to meet you.” 

The corners of Jungkook’s smile wilt like a withered flower. “Oh,” is all he says, but there’s enough disbelief hanging in his voice that has anger bubbling through Yoongi’s veins. 

No child should ever think they’re not worthy of anything. Ever. Clearly there’s a lot of self esteem issues that Yoongi needs to help him with, a lot of love missing in his life that Yoongi is more than willing to give him. 

“I was told by Jimin himself, that you’re a very smart boy who knew not to talk to strangers,” Yoongi elaborates. 

Jungkook nods subtly. “No talking to strangers,” he mutters.

“That’s right,” Yoongi praises once more, ruffling Jungkook’s hair for good measure. “And he said you saw a cat outside your house with one blue eye and one green eye. And I really love cats,” he adds. 

“Kookie really likes cats too,” he says before looking sheepishly from side to side then lowering his voice. “But I don't like them the mostest.” 

Yoongi cannot contain his grin. God, this kid is just so sweet. “And what is the animal you like the most?”

“Bunnies!” he exclaims in a big excitable voice, waving Cooky in the air and cackling like a witch. Yoongi laughs with him, not really in on the joke but happy just to see the boy smiling.

“Wow,” Yoongi says after a short break to get all their giggling out. “I can’t believe I was lucky enough to get to talk to you today.” There’s a sweet little flush to Jungkook’s cheeks as he hangs his head shyly. “It’s so unfair that Jimin gets to see you all the time and I have to be busy with the boring old big kids.” 

Jungkook snorts, legs back to swinging merrily beneath him. “Kookie is a big kid too. Kookie is not a baby.”

“Of course,” Yoongi agrees, nodding his head seriously. “But you’re not a boring big kid.” Jungkook giggles again, twisting the little keychain rabbit in his hands. “Do you like reading books, Jungkook?” he asks.

“We read a dinosaur book and the dinosaur goes rawr and the dinosaur begins with D. But no reading in the living room,” Jungkook explains excitedly. “I like the dinosaur book.”

Yoongi gasps in exaggerated excitement, holding his hands to his chest. “Me too!” he explains and Jungkook claps his hands. “Well, now that I’ve found you, shall we read together in the library? That way we don’t have to be lost anymore.” There’s a brief moment in which worry bleeds through Jungkook’s excitement. Worry that’s far too adult for a toddler to comprehend let alone have. So before Yoongi can let the little boy’s worry seed in his mind, he scoops Jungkook up into his arms and settles him on his hip. “The library has lots of dinosaur books,” he reassures. “You can show me your favorite.” 

“Do all the dinosaurs go rawr?” Jungkook asks, giggling between his words as his little hands grasp at Yoongi’s shirt to steady himself.  

Yoongi pretends to think very incredibly hard about that question. “I think so,” he says. “What other animals go rawr?”

“Lions go rawr. Lions are cats but lions aren’t pets. They eat the dinosaurs,” Jungkook explains and Yoongi can’t help but giggle at the serious silliness of that statement. “We read two dinosaur books?” he asks.

Yoongi pretends to think deeply again, trying his hardest not to waver in his acting under the big puppy dog eyes that Jungkook levels him with. “I think maybe we can read three dinosaur books,” he says and Jungkook gasps.

“That’s this many!” the boy exclaims, holding up all five of his fingers.

Chuckling softly, Yoongi gently tucks down two of Jungkook’s hands and says: “This is three, but you were very close.” 

“One two three,” Jungkook counts, pointing at his fingers. “Cat-seonsaengnim is smart.” 

Maybe Yoongi will throttle Jimin later for telling an impressionable child that he’s a cat. “Not as smart as you,” Yoongi counters before tapping his little nose again. “But first, I have to go to the teacher’s room and then we can go read in the library. Is that okay?” 

“It okay.”

____________ 

“Hey, Hoseok,” Yoongi says, sliding up to the new kindergarten teacher’s desk. He’s the last to leave today, mainly because his class is going on a butterfly hunt in the school field tomorrow and Hoseok is making every child a handmade journal so they can draw pictures of what they find in it. 

It takes a moment for Hoseok to look up from what he’s doing, dry eyes blinking rapidly to try and get more moisture to them. “Yoongi?” he asks, a little puzzled. “I thought you left for the night?”

With a dead serious expression, Yoongi nods. “I did. It’s already morning. Have you been here all night?”

The kindergarten teacher’s mouth falls agape, eyes blown wide. “I can’t have, I swear it’s only been a few--” he snaps his gaze to the clock on the wall and groans, flopping his face into his hands. “That’s not funny,” he mutters into his palms.

Yoongi, on the other hand, thinks his joke is all sorts of hilarious and snickers like a snake, shoulders bobbing up and down. “You work too hard,” he muses. “Lighten up a little.”

“I work just the right amount, thank you very much,” Hoseok corrects. “Anyway, why are you back? Did you forget something?”

With a shake of his head, Yoongi shuffles over to the filing cabinet behind the vice principal’s desk that hoards the children’s personal records. “Did you know Jeon Jungkook is still here?” he asks.

Hoseok folds his arms across his chest. “He is?” heasks, eyebrows raised. “Lim-ssi told me she contacted his babysitter before she left,” he checks the clock on the wall again and sighs. “That was an hour ago.”

“He’s just been sitting in the office on his own for an hour?” says an overly disgusted Yoongi. “Everyone walks past the office when they leave, why did no one say anything? What was stopping some weirdo smashing through the glass and stealing him away?”

“It’s been a long day,” Hoseok sympathises. “Guess everyone was in a rush to get home.”

“That’s not good enough,” Yoongi mutters, flinging open the cabinet and flicking his fingers across the files. There’s no excuse for any child care professional to ignore a child sitting on their own in the office well passed home time. But this is an argument for tomorrow during the morning meeting. He finds Jungkook’s file squashed at the back of the drawer, noticeably thinner than all the other children’s files. “I don’t think he knows who’s supposed to be picking him up today.”

Hoseok hums, folding his arms across his chest. “I spoke to his babysitter this morning, he didn’t mention anything about no one being able to come pick Jungkook up,” he explains. “And the babysitter is always thorough when it comes to Jungkook. He was running late last week and called well in advance and asked us to keep Jungkook busy so he wouldn’t be worried.” Hoseok chuckles. “Your husband finger painted with him for half an hour.”

With a gentle smile that Yoongi holds only for Jimin, he sighs. “I know, we were meant to sneak away early for the weekend.” 

“Must be nice to have a partner who loves children just as much as you,” Hoseok daydreams before pulling himself to his feet. “Should I call a social worker?”

Yoongi shakes his head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to place Jungkook with someone he doesn’t know, I mean this doesn’t usually happen, right?” he asks.

Hoseok nods. “Usually Jungkook is the first to go home.” 

Checking the clock one last time, Yoongi opens Jungkook’s file and scans the first page looking for his emergency contacts. Only the babysitter is listed, a one Kim Taehyung. The lack of parental contact information is just another red flag in a group of many when it comes to poor Jeon Jungkook. 

“I’ll call his babysitter again and give it half an hour. If we get no reply I’ll bring him home with me,” Yoongi decides, making his way over to the main phone in the middle of the room.

“I’d offer to take him home myself but something tells me Park Jimin-ssi would battle me to the death in order to spend more time with Jungkook,” Hoseok snickers.

With a smirk, Yoongi picks up the phone. “You’d be right there,” he agrees before making quick work of dialing the babysitters’ number. The phone rings 7 times before the machine picks up and Yoongi lets out a deep sigh as the tone rings loudly in his ear. “Hello, Kim-ssi, this is Park Yoongi, one of the teacher’s at Jungkook’s school. No one has come to collect him yet, and Jungkook doesn’t seem to remember who is meant to come pick him up today. Unfortunately at 5pm we have to lock up the school, so if no one comes to claim him by then I’ll take him home with me. If you, or someone in his family, could come and collect him as soon as possible, that would be great. I’ll leave you my personal number just in case you can no longer contact us at school--” Yoongi rattles off his mobile number and his address for good measure before thanking the machine and hanging up the phone. 

There’s a downturn to Hoseok’s lips, a pinch of concerne in his brow. “No answer?” 

Yoongi shakes his head. “You’d think to leave your phone on vibrate mode at least if you’re an emergency contact of a child.”

“I mean,” Hoseok sighs as Yoongi shuffles over to slip Jungkook’s file back into the cabinet. “Perhaps he’s in a place where he can’t have his phone on?”  

“Again, not an excuse,” Yoongi remarks.

“Yeah, I know,” Hoseok agrees, flopping back into his chair. “I would just like to find the good in humanity first before we scorn everyone, ya know?” 

“Wishful thinking,” Yoongi replies, a little bitterly. “Don’t work too hard,” he adds before making his way back to Jungkook.

The boy is sitting quietly in the hallway, one hand absentmindedly petting across the top of Cooky’s little head, his eyes entranced by the bright display of winter paintings that the 3rd graders painted using actual leaves they collected from the school grounds. 

“Okay, now that’s done, I think I promised a certain someone some dinosaur books,” Yoongi announces, closing the door gently behind him. 

Jungkook snaps his head towards Yoongi and holds three fingers up in the air. “This many dinosaur books?” he asks once more, uncertainty in his voice, because of course on top of everything this poor boy has been through, he’s also been lied to countless times.   

“That’s right,” Yoongi says, holding up three fingers of his own. “At least this many books.” 

Jungkook’s face lights up like a night sky filled with fireworks and Yoongi finds himself momentarily forgetting all the bad shit that comes with crappy adults.

Chapter Text

They end up reading 5 books but they read one particular dinosaur book, in which a baby T-Rex is sad that he’s so small only to grow up and be bigger than most of the other dinosaurs, four times.

“Again?” Jungkook asks in a hopefully small voice, eyes looking up at Yoongi with bewitching magic in them that renders Yoongi incapable of saying no. It’s a good thing all his teacher training has made him one of the most patient beings in the universe. 

“Of course,” he says, flipping the book back to the beginning. “What colour is the baby dinosaur?”

“Purple,” Jungkook replies easily. “I don’t want to be small. You can fly. Then the dinosaur goes rawr.” It’s not all that far off from the actual story, so Yoongi praises him for his effort before starting the story over again.

But by the time they’re on their sixth retelling of the little dinosaur who wants to be big, Yoongi’s phone vibrates angrily in his pocket and he has to apologize to Jungkook as he slips it out to answer it. Unfortunately, it’s not the kid’s babysitter, but fortunately it is his husband and Yoongi smiles widely as he presses the phone to his ear.

“Hello, love,” he greets as Jungkook shuffles in his lap to get more comfortable. 

“You were meant to be home ages ago,” Jimin replies, worry in his voice. “Where are you?” 

Running his fingers absentmindedly through Jungkook’s hair, Yoongi sighs. “I’m still at work,” he explains, carefully. “But we’ll probably be coming home soon,” he adds.

There’s a pause on the other end of the phone as his husband dilerbates over Yoonig’s words. “We? Like we as in you and a work colleague needing a drink after a long day? Or we as in you and a little friend who’s been left behind again?” Jimin asks, quietly.

“The latter.”

Another pause. 

“I’ll come pick you up.”

“We don’t have a car seat.”

“Then I’ll buy one on the way over there, I don’t care,” Jimin replies resolutely. “I’ll be there in 15 tops.” He hangs up the phone before Yoongi can reply, but there’s a little smirk on his face as he pockets his phone again.

Jungkook is looking at him carefully, head cocked to one side. “We go home?” he asks, but he doesn’t seem all too happy at the prospects of going home.

Red flag. 

Yoongi wraps his arms around Jungkook’s middle so he can pick up the book again. “Are you hungry?” he asks instead.

“Hungry?” Jungkook asks, furrowing his brow in thought. “Is it dinner time?” 

“Just about,” Yoongi muses, catching a glimpse at the clock on the wall. 5:15 it reads, probably about the time for little boys to eat their dinner. Yoongi wonders, not for the first time this evening, about Jungkook’s parents. Perhaps they’re the type with a job that has them working late? Maybe that’s why they’re not storming the school right now wondering why their son isn’t home for dinner… he’s making excuses. 

Jungkook nods, hands fiddling nervously with Cooky. “If it’s dinner time, then I’m hungry,” the boy mutters very quietly.

Red Flag. 

“Tonight I’m making Jimin hamburgers for dinner,” Yoongi explains, softly closing the dinosaur book. “Do you like hamburgers?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Eat what you’re given,” he says incredibly too nonchalantly for Yoongi. Splaying his little hands over the open page of the dinosaur book, Jungkook is swift in changing the topic of conversation. “The big dinosaur is green, grass is green, green starts with g.”

Red flag. Red flag. Red flag.

“How clever you are,” Yoongi praises ruffling Jungkook’s hair enough to see a wide smile bloom across the boy’s face. He pauses a moment, wondering the best way to move forward, watching the way Jungkook’s little finger follows the words in the picture book he can’t read.

“I’m small, I want to be big,” Jungkook says. “I’m purple, I go rawr, I can’t fly, I can eat lions.” He flips the pages after he’s run his finger over every line of text, shooting Yoongi a small smile of reassurance that he’s doing good. 

Yoongi has been thoroughly trained for moments like this. But his training had led him into a false sense of security of it being very unlikely that there would be children under his care that are suffering some form of abuse or mistreatment. Yet here Jungkook sits in clothes too big for him, little holes around the seams from overuse, not a single guardian or parent in sight worried over the fact he’s several hours late home and Yoongi feels something hard stick in his throat. 

He’s been thoroughly trained for moments like this. But the case files they studied in school were always ones in which the system failed the children who were suffering. The smiling faces of those lost children were far more innocent than those of the average kid and Yoongi remembers spending countless nights unable to sleep, their faces burned into his memory. Sweet children that could still be alive if only someone had done something.

It had taken Jimin soothing his fingers through Yoongi’s hair before he had stopped shaking. It had taken Jimin telling him that in knowing the horrors of the past it will aid in preventing repeats in the future, for Yoongi to stop sobbing. It had taken Jimin telling him that Yoongi has the power to stop things like this from happening, that he has the power to help children when they most need it, that he has the power to make things better, before Yoongi was able to compose himself enough to continue through his child protection training.

Yes, Yoongi had been thoroughly trained for moments like this. And yet. Yoongi currently feels like he holds zero power in his hands right now. 

“I’m small, I want to be big,” Jungkook says again and Yoongi’s grip tightens around him.  

“Jungkook,” he calls softly, carefully pushing a few loose strands of hair behind the boy’s ear. “How would you like to eat hamburgers too?”

The boy cocks his head to one side before turning to look up at Yoongi. “For dinner?” he asks. 

Yoongi nods. “For dinner at mine and Jimin’s house,” he adds. “Like a playdate.”

“Playdate!” Jungkook squeals. “I like a playdate.”

“You do?” Yoongi repeats, feeling a little bit of worry melting off his shoulders.  

Jungkook nods excitedly. “Donghyun has a playdate. But Donghyun doesn’t eat hamburgers for dinner. Donghyun eats kimchi fried rice. Kookie gets two bowls because Kookie is the guest,” he explains.

There’s a small little smile playing at Yoongi’s lips. “Did you go on a playdate at Donghyun’s house?”  

Jungkook nods once more, looking like a little bobble head. “His house is big. His room has two beds like a tower. We ate snacks in the living room. No snacks in the living room.” 

“Did you have fun at Donghyun’s house?” Yoongi asks gently. 

“We play dragons. I’m the red dragon. Kimchi fried rice is red. Dragons don’t eat kimchi fried rice. They eat …” Jungkook stops, looking around the room to help finish his sentence. Then his fingers tighten around Cooky and he gasps, holding the keychain up into the air. “Bunnies!” he explains, nodding very seriously. Almost as though he were a research professor presenting his findings on dragons in the wild. 

Gosh, Yoongi is just falling more and more in love with this kid.

Perhaps next year he should request to be the kindergarten teacher.

“We can have fun with Jimin at our house too,” Yoongi says. “You can be my assistant in the kitchen. Jimin is no good at making hamburgers, he’s not as smart as you.” Yoongi winks and Jungkook giggles. “How does that sound? Would you like to come have a playdate at mine and Jimin’s house?” 

There’s a bright twinkle in Jungkook’s eyes. “I can come?” 

“You can come,” Yoongi nods, booping Jungkook on the tip of the nose for good measure. “It will be an adventure.” But as soon as Yoongi stops talking, he can tell he’s said the wrong thing. 

The twinkle to Jungkook’s eyes dies and his shoulders droop. “Oh,” he says somewhat solemnly. “Adventure.”

“That’s right, an adventure to Jimin and Seonsaengnim’s house,” Yoongi reassures. “Nowhere else.”

Jungkook won’t look at him, eyes down cast to Cooky, thumb stroking over and over the little keychain’s worn belly. “Nowhere else,” he repeats, but his tone doesn’t sound all that excited, nor does he appear all that comforted by Yoongi’s strong reassurance. 

In fact, everything about Jeon Jungkook right now screams resignation . 

Yoongi is about to open his mouth and make some kind of blood oath that Jungkook isn’t going anywhere scary or anywhere he doesn’t want to go when Yoongi’s phone vibrates angrily in his pocket once more. He slips it out and answers it before checking the caller ID.

“I’m outside,” Jimin greets. “Car seat and all.” 

Yoongi sighs. “We’ll be right there,” he says quietly before hanging up the phone and forcing a huge smile on his face. “Jimin is here,” he tells Jungkook. “He’s very excited for the playdate, too.” 

The boy in Yoongi’s lap still won’t look at him as he closes the dinosaur book and slowly stands to his feet. 

On instinct, Yoongi reaches out to cup Jungkook’s cheeks and turn the boy’s attention to his face. “An adventure to Jimin and Seongsangnim’s house,” he repeats, voice not to be messed with. “Nowhere else, I promise.”

There’s a solemn little twist to Jungkook’s lips. “Promise?” he asks, wholly unconvinced.

Vaguely, Yoongi remembers Jimin explaining something about having a pinkie promise with Jungkook and reaches out to join their little fingers together. “I promise,” he swears, as earnestly as possible. 

Jungkook’s eyes search through Yoongi’s for a moment, bottom lip caught between his bunny teeth, before his little finger squeezes ever so tightly around Yoongi’s. “Okay,” he agrees, voice a little sturdier than before. “Nowhere else.” 

____________  

Of all the things Jimin had expected to see when he came to pick up Yoongi and Jungkook from school, it was not a blubbering, hysterical Jungkook squatting outside the entrance and refusing to get any closer to Jimin’s car. Jimin had been waiting excitedly, perched against the hood of the car and tapping his fingers against the cool metal to the tune of a song that’s been stuck in his head lately, when he had seen the two of them step out through the front doors.

He had thrown his hands over his head and waved exaggeratedly big at the two of them, a Cheshire cat smile wide across his face. Jimin was all ready to tell Jungkook how excited he was to show him their home, too, but his glee had been slapped off his face so startlingly quick, it had left Jimin feeling somewhat dizzy. 

Jungkook had stopped frozen in his tracks, eyes blown wide, tears gathered in the corners, and in what felt like seconds, Jungkook was squatting on the floor, face purpling with his wails and fat tears rolling down his face and staining his top. 

Jimin’s feet move before his brain realises what he’s doing, practically running over to the pair with worry etched into every inch of his face.  “What’s going on?” he demands. 

Yoongi looks equally, if not more so, concerned, hand still holding tightly to Jungkook’s own as he looks down at the sobbing boy. “I’m not sure,” he says, squatting down to Jungkook’s level. “Hey, hey, why are we crying?” he asks.

“Nowhere else,” is all Jungkook says between his sobs. “We promised. Nowhere else.”

Yoongi swipes at the boy’s wet cheeks, trying to keep the tears at bay and Jimin flounders where he stands wholly lost on what he should do. “That’s right, I promised didn’t I?” Yoongi says. “Nowhere else.” 

“But i--it’s a c--car,” he sutters, crying so hard it’s reduced him to hiccups and Jimin’s hands itch to comfort, to placate. 

Yoongi turns to look at Jimin’s car briefly before turning to look at Jungkook again. “Yes it is,” he agrees. “Our home is too far away to walk too.” 

That does nothing in easing Jungkook’s worry, the boy curling in on himself a little more. “You promised .” 

“We pinkie promised ,” Yoongi explains softly, fingers never once leaving Jungkook as he pushes reassurance into the boy’s skin. 

Jimin gasps softly, dropping to his knees in front of Jungkook. “A pinkie promise?” he repeats, hooking his fingers under Jungkook’s wobbling chin and tilting his head to look up at them. “Then there’s no way that can be broken,” he explains. 

There’s a tired kind of resignation settling around Jungkook’s eyes. “I-it can’t?” 

Jimin nods. “Nope. No way, no how.” 

“B-but,” Jungkook sniffles, voice hoarse and nose running uncontrollably. “It’s an adventure. It’s a car.” 

“It is,” Jimin agrees. “Do you not want to go on an adventure?” Jungkook flinches and Jimin’s arms instinctively reach out to pull the boy close against his chest. “Do you want to come to our house?” Ever so slightly, Jimin can feel Jungkook nod against his shirt, smearing tears and snot all over it, but Jimin couldn’t care less. “I see,” is all Jimin replies with, but he doesn’t see. He doesn’t understand at all and he’s fairly certain that his worry is bleeding through his adult facade. 

He catches Yoongi’s gaze over Jungkook’s head, blowing his eyes wide, pleading for his more experienced husband to do something, anything, that will make Jungkook feel better. 

“Okay,” Yoongi says aloud, probably to appease all of them. “Then we won’t go on an adventure today.” 

Jimin can feel Jungkook’s face smudge across his shirt as he turns to look at Yoongi. “No adventure?” he asks, hiccups rumbling in his chest. 

The smile on Yoongi’s face is probably the softest Jimin has seen yet and it has his own worry bleeding from his body. “No adventure,” Yoongi repeats. “Just a playdate, okay?” 

“Okay,” says Jungkook resignedly. 

Stroking his fingers soothingly through Jungkook’s hair, Jimin hums. “Do you think you can walk or would you like me to carry you?” 

“I think I can walk,” Jungkook says, slowly and tentatively separating himself from Jimin. But then he spies the car once more and he burrows himself a little hiding spot back in Jmin’s chest. “It’s a car.”

“But it’s not an adventure,” Yoongi explains again, voice strong and sturdy. “It’s not an adventure in the car.” 

“It’s a drive to our house for a playdate,” Jimin adds, fingernails scratching at his scalp. “Yoongi promised.” 

Jungkook nods but keeps his head buried in Jimin’s chest.

Jimin thinks it’s best to just pick the boy up and carry him to the car. But as he carefully wraps the boy’s legs around his waist, he feels Jungkook’s entire body tremble. Yoongi helps the two of them up, placing a warm, heavy hand on Jungkook’s lower back to remind him that he’s not going anywhere he doesn’t want to go. 

It feels a bit like they’re trudging towards their doom as they make the short distance to the car. Jungkook’s grip tightens, his face buried so tightly against Jimin’s chest that it’s a wonder whether the boy can breathe or not. 

He refuses to let go when Yoongi opens the back door, nor when Jimin subtly tries to sit the boy in the freshly bought car seat. In fact, Jungkook’s grip gets tighter and his breathing falls harsher. He doesn’t cry though and Jimin doesn’t know if that’s a good or bad thing. 

“I’ll drive,” Yoongi suggests, slipping the car keys out of Jimin’s pocket. “Just buckle the both of you into the back.” 

“Is that a good idea?” Jimin asks, shuffling on his feet. Jungkook may be small but he’s not light.

Yoongi runs his gaze over the boy clinging to Jimin like a koala to a tree and sighs. “It’s not far,” he says. “I’ll drive slowly.” 

“Okay,” Jimin agrees, rounding the car to slip into the seat without the car seat. “I have to move you around a little bit to get us strapped in,” Jimin explains. “Is that okay?” Jungkook says nothing, but he makes no physical sign of protest so Jimin takes that as an okay. 

Carefully, so as not to jostle Jungkook too much, Jimin manages to slip the seatbelt over the two of them just as Yoongi clicks the engine on. Jungkook flinches at the sound, wriggling closer into Jimin’s embrace.

“Everyone buckled in?” Yoongi asks from the front. “Safety first.” 

“We’re ready,” Jimin replies, hands resting securely on Jungkook’s little back. 

“Then off we go,” Yoongi mutters, putting the car in drive and slipping away from the curb.   

It feels like the drive takes forever rather than the usual 20 minutes. Even with Jimin rattling off endlessly to an unresponsive Jungkook and Yoongi shooting encouraging looks and remarks into the back seat whenever it’s safe to do so. But the worst part of it all is the way Jungkook just sits there, curled up in his lap without a complaint, almost like he knows complaining won’t do him any good. 

Jimin’s chest hurts.

They pull into the parking garage of their apartment complex and Jimin presses a gentle kiss onto the top of Jungkook’s head. “We’re here,” he says softly.

For the first time since they left the school, Jungkook removes his face from Jimin’s chest and looks worryingly up at him. “Are you sad?” he asks. 

“No,” Jimin replies. “I’m very hungry though.” 

With a hum, Jungkook hides his face in Jimin’s chest once more. “It’s dinner time,” he mumbles. 

Yoongi opens the door for them, grabbing up Jungkook’s little blue backpack from the footwell and waiting for Jimin to untangle the two of them from the seatbelt. “Jungkook said he would be my assistant for dinner,” he explains, eyes never once leaving Jungkook. 

“Really?” Jimin asks the clingy boy in his lap. “Do you like cooking, Jungkookie?” 

Jungkook shrugs, grip tightening in Jimin’s collar as the elder slips out from the car. The loud thud of the door closing has Jungkook flinching, but other than that he remains quiet. 

“I’m not very good at cooking,” Jimin admits, following Yoongi to the elevator. “I bet you’ll be much better than me.”

“Do you want to push the button for the elevator, Jungkook?” Yoongi offers, but the boy shakes his head and Yoongi does it instead. They wait in silence until the doors ping open. The three of them shuffle slowly into the small space before Yoongi smashes the button for their floor. 

“We go up?” Jungkook asks.

Jimin hums. “If you turn around, you can see the whole of Seoul,” he says, hoisting Jungkook a little higher up on his hip.

Curiosity must get the better of Jungkook as he gingerly peers out from his hiding spot in Jimin’s chest and catches a glimpse of the night view from the elevator’s windows. A small gasp escapes his chest, his eyes blow wide and his head leans just a little bit away from the comfort of Jimin’s chest. 

“Wow,” Jungkook mutters. “We go up.” 

Yoongi chuckles, ruffling the boy’s hair. “To the 23rd floor,” he explains. 

There’s a pinch of thought on Jungkook’s face. “That’s, that’s,” he thinks a little more before holding up his hand. “This many?” he asks, wiggling four of his fingers. 

“It’s more than this many,” Yoongi explains. “But that was a very good guess.” 

“How high can you count?” Jimin asks. 

“One, two, three, four, five…” the boy stops, bottom lip sticking out as he thinks super incredibly hard. 

Yoongi smiles, holding up six fingers. “Six.”

“Six” Jungkook repeats, clapping his hands. “I do good?”

“You do great,” Jimin reassures just as the elevator doors open to their floor. “There are six apartments on this floor, shall we count them?”

“Okay,” Jungkook agrees, twisting in Jimin’s hold to point at each door and say the number out loud. He stops when they reach the very last apartment and Yoongi fiddles with Jimin’s car keys until he finds the house key. 

“This door is six,” Jungkook explains. “One, two, three, four, five, six. 6th graders help with cleaning at cleaning time. It’s not an adventure in the car.”

The front door clicks open and Yoongi pushes it wide so that Jimin can head in with Jungkook first. “That’s right,” Jimin agrees. “This is our house. We have to take our shoes off.” 

“Take off our shoes,” Jungkook repeats. “ Seonsaengnim take off our shoes,” he says once more, wiggling his feet at Yoongi. Without missing a beat, his husband places Jungkook’s little backpack by the door before deftly and carefully untying Jungkook’s laces. He places them neatly by the boy’s bag before reaching down to untie his own shoes. Jimin doesn’t have the arms nor patience to untie his shoes, so he slips them off, kicking them messily behind himself before carrying Jungkook further into the apartment. 

He turns on lights as he goes, Jungkook letting out little impressed noises the more he gets to see. “You live here?” he asks.

“We do,” Jimin says. “This is our living room. That’s our TV. Through the archway over there is our kitchen.” 

“ Seonsaengnim makes hamburgers in the kitchen?” he asks.

Jimin nods. “Do you still want to help?” 

“Kookie helps,” he says wriggling in Jimin’s grip. “I get down?” he asks politely just as Yoongi saunters into the living room. Jimin does as asked of him and watches the little boy run over to Yoongi.

“Jungkookie, we mustn’t run inside,” Jimin warns with no real spite in his voice but with a tone that irritatingly reminds him of his mother.

Jungkook sing songs his agreement and slows to a fast walk. “We make hamburgers?” he asks Yoongi when he finally reaches him, taking up the man’s hand. 

“First we must wash our hands,” Yoongi explains, leading the boy into the kitchen.

“Wash hands, wash hands, lunch time’s here, wash hands,” Jungkook sings to himself and Jimin finds himself letting out a long, tired sigh as he collapses on the couch. 

There’s too many thoughts rattling in his brain. Too many worries clouding up his senses and he thinks he might very well explode. He needs wine. Can he drink wine when he’s looking after a child? Is it illegal? Like driving under the influence? 

As if hearing his own mental struggle, Jimin feels soft, gentle lips press a chaste kiss to each one of his closed eyelids. “Take a moment,” Yoongi says in that deep, melodic rasp of his. “You’ve done so well, I’m very proud of you.” 

Jimin groans wanting to roll around on the couch and hide beneath the pillows. “My chest hurts.” 

“I know,” Yoongi says. “But remember, we have the power to make a change, to make things better.” He kisses Jimin’s forehead before leaning away from him. “Come join us when you’re ready,” he says before shuffling his way back into the kitchen. Jimin turns his head to watch his husband leave, feeling a little more stress lift from his shoulders and the tight grip around his heart loosen ever so slightly.  

There’s a glass of wine sat on the table by the sofa, and not for the first time in his life, Jimin thinks he’s married to the best person in the world. 

____________

“I not hold the knife,” Jungkook explains to Jimin, who had decided to help cook dinner too despite the fact he’s still as clumsy as ever. “The knife is for adults that are not Jimin-hyung.”

With a mock gasp, Jimin playfully shoves his husband. “Stop telling him weird things,” he scolds. 

With a scoff, Yoongi rolls his eyes. “I guess we’ll talk later about cat- seonsaengnim , shall we?” Jimin looks a little sheepish before placing a quick kiss on his husband’s cheek. Yoongi hums, knowing he’s won this little debate before walking over to the stove. “Jungkook,” he calls gently as he flips hamburgers in the pan. “Can you bring me one plate from the cupboard by the refrigerator?” 

Tottering carefully across the kitchen floor, after the third time of being told not to run in the house, Jungkook pulls open the right cupboard and sticks his little fingers inside. He’s been very helpful, incredibly good at following orders and is very apt at staying concentrated on a task despite his young age. Yoongi would be impressed if it weren’t for the glaringly obvious fact that Jungkook isn’t growing up like a normal child. 

The cupboard door slams shut and Jungkook totters back over to Yoongi with the plate held aloft above his head. “One plate,” he says, reaching up on his tiptoes to slip it onto the counter top. 

“Thank you,” Yoongi smiles, ruffling Jungkook’s hair. “Maybe you and Jimin can set the table? I’m almost finished.”

“Okay,” Jungkook sing songs tottering over to Jimin and taking him by the hand. “We set the table.” 

Jimin giggles, letting himself be led over to the kitchen table without saying a word. Yoongi watches out of the corner of his eye as Jimin is pulled to a stop and Jungkook looks a little confused at the table before him. “How?” he questions. 

“How, what?” Jimin asks. 

“How is the table set?” Jungkook clarifies, turning his confused expression up to Jimin. 

Jimin squats down to his level. “We have to put plates and chopsticks and cups for tea on the table ready for us to use.” 

“Ohhhh,” Jungkook replies. 

Yoongi flicks off the stove as he stacks the last of the hamburgers onto the plate Jungkook had brought over for him. “Jungkook, Jimin and me, how many is that?” he asks the boy before walking over to the refrigerator to pull out the hamburger sauce he’d made yesterday. 

Jungkook raises his hand in front of his face. “Kookie,” he says, holding up one finger. “Jimin-hyung, Seonsaengnim ,” he holds up another finger for each name he says. “One, two, three. Three! Three many!” 

With an encouraging clap of his hands, Jimin shoots Jungkook a proud smile. “Good job, Jungkookie.”

“So,” Yoongi says again, with an uncontrollably wide smile on his face. “If there are three many people, how many plates do we need?”

“Uuuummm,” Jungkook thinks, silence filling the kitchen. Yoongi catches a glimpse of the scrunched up look of concentration across the boy's face and has to hide his smile in the crook of his arm. He places the hamburger sauce in the microwave and starts the thing for two minutes. 

“Do we all need a plate?” Jimin askes, gently probing Jungkook towards an answer. Honestly Jimin would have made an excellent teacher if he had chosen that course of study. 

“Yes?” Jungkook replies uncertainly. 

Yoongi is leaning against the counter tops and watching Jungkook carefully. “Do we share plates when we eat lunch?” he asks and Jungkook shakes his head. “Then we shouldn’t share plates at dinner either.” 

“One, two, three many people,” Jimin repeats, pointing to each of them. “How many plates?”

There are many perks to being a teacher, Yoongi thinks. You get long vacations throughout the year which you would never get with your average office job, for example. Not to mention there’s a great deal of respect and prestige that comes with being an educator, a government approved educator at that, which opens many doors for you throughout your career. 

But to Yoongi, nothing is quite like seeing those precious lightbulb moments in his students. 

Those moments where the student just suddenly knows , suddenly gets it , suddenly understands everything you’ve just been gently trying to teach them as if a lightbulb had been switched on. There’s such a beautiful look of sheer joy, of sheer triumphant glee, that washes across the child’s face. Making them feel like they’ve just climbed their very own everest and reached the summit to stand in the sun’s rays. 

Yoongi loves nothing more than being the person to help nurture a child to their full potential. To be the person that makes them feel so incredibly amazing about themselves, to be the person to guide them towards great things. No perk of the job will ever be as rewarding to Yoongi as that.

So when he gets to see that lightbulb moment wash across Jungkook, Yoongi can feel his chest fill up with warm air and his fingers tingle in glee. 

“Three plates,” he says, trotting over to the cupboard he had retrieved the plate for Yoongi not too long ago.

Jimin claps. “Good job,” he praises walking over to join Jungkook. “Let’s count them and I can carry them over?” he suggests. Jungkook is all too quick to agree, shouting out a very loud and proud one before he even pulls out the first plate. 

The microwave pings and pulls Yoongi out of his happy little trance, reluctantly stealing his gaze away from the sweet scene of Jimin and Jungkook setting the table and back towards the preparation of dinner. He thinks that perhaps his heart has grown several sizes bigger in the hour or so that the three of them have been preparing dinner. 

It’s a welcome distraction from the little corner of worried dark thoughts that are trying to organise themselves in the back of his mind. He needs to start putting things into motion, he needs to start figuring out why Jungkook is scared of getting in cars, why he was basically abandoned at the school today and why the boy holds such adult worry on his shoulders. 

“How many chopsticks?” Jimin asks once the three plates are placed on the table. 

It doesn’t take nearly as long for Jungkook to hold the right amount of fingers in the air and shout three once again. Yoongi chuckles as he busies himself with dishing out the rice into a serving bowl. He just needs to pull the salad from the fridge and they’re good to go.

He wonders whether he should go to the Principal? Policy calls that you approach the child’s homeroom teacher first with any concerns and the two of you decide whether to take the situation to the Principal who can contact the correct services. 

But that’s just going to take time, time Yoongi doesn’t want to waste because he’s been trained to think of the worst case scenario and plan accordingly. If he tells Hoseok that he wants to get social services involved, Hoseok would probably want to do his own digging into Jungkook’s family life just for his own piece of mind first before they take the matter to the Principal. 

That could take a few weeks. 

Weeks Yoongi doesn’t want to risk. 

“Three plates,” Jimin says and Jungkook counts them out loud. “Three chopsticks,” he adds and once again Jungkook counts them. “What’s missing?” 

There’s a pondering little hum from Jungkook before he asks: “Three many people?”

Jimin giggles. “You’re right, but we can’t eat unless everything is on the table.”

“Kookie counts the plates and we counts the chopsticks. We set the table. We eat now? It’s dinner time,” Jungkook says, attention span weighing just a little bit.

“What if we get thirsty?” Yoongi offers. “Are there cups?” 

Jungkook gasps. “Uh oh,” he says, placing his hands against his cheeks. “No cups.”

“Shall we get the cups?” Jimin asks. “How many cups?”

Without missing a beat Jungkook places his hands on his hips. “Three cups,” he says, turning to level Jimin with a serious look. “Three cups please,” he asks, hands outstretched and Yoongi snorts down his laughter as he brings the rice to the table. 

There’s a light look of disbelief across Jimin’s face. “You want me to get them?”

“No, I get,” Jungkook says, shaking his head. “I set the table. Three plates, three chopsticks, three cups, please.” He wiggles his fingers like a beggar asking for money and Yoongi ruffles the small boy’s hair as he places the rice in the middle of the table. 

With a dramatic little huff that holds zero malice, Jimin saunters over to the cupboard they hide away the cups and brings over three of them. He’s about to put them on the table when Jungkook makes an annoyed noise and stops the elder in his tracks.

“I get!” Jungkook exclaims, wiggling his fingers again. “Three cups, please.”

Trying his hardest to swallow down his laughter, Jimin hands the cups to Jungkook who takes them carefully into his little arms. He smiles down at them for a brief moment before stretching them back up at Jimin. “Hyung, I bring three cups, I set the table, please.” 

This time neither Jimin nor Yoongi can hold in their laughter, giggling uncontrollably as Jungkook stands there with an oblivious smile on his face and the cups outstretched for Jimin to take. Still giggling, Jimin eventually takes the cups to finish setting the table and Jungkook looks absolutely pleased as punch with what he’s done. 

Yoongi is still silently chuckling with mirth as he brings over the rest of the food and the tea. “Thank you for helping, Jungkook-ah,” he says, setting the jug of barley tea at the edge of the table furthest from Jungkook’s clumsy outreach. Jimin helps Jungkook up into his seat, tucking a napkin into the collar of his T-shirt. 

“You’re welcome,” says Jungkook, chin raised to help Jimin make sure the boy is ready to tackle his dinner without too many stains. Once Jimin deems him ready, adding a kiss to the crown of the boy’s head, Jungkook stretches his hands out towards Yoongi. “We eat?” he asks. “It’s dinner time.” 

“Sure, buddy,” Yoongi agrees, setting the hamburgers in the middle of the table.

Jimin grabs up Jungkook’s plate and serves the small boy a good size portion of rice and half a hamburger. He fills the plate mainly with salad and places it infront of Jungkook before moving on to serving Yoongi. “One or two?” he asks. 

“One for now,” Yoongi replies. “Jungkook would you like some tea?”

Jungkook already has his fingers stuck into his pile of rice, utterly foregoing chopsticks. Not that he can use them just yet, the kindergarten section all use training chopsticks still, hoping to transition to proper chopsticks before they enter 1st grade. “Ummm,” Jungkook finally says. “Do I like tea?”  

“You can try it first if you’d like?” Yoongi suggests, tipping just a small mouthful into Jungkook’s cup for the boy to try. He gets his rice sticky fingerprints smudged all over the cup and in his haste to try the new drink almost spills it down his front. “Slowly, it’s not going anywhere,” Yoongi chides softly. 

As soon as Jungkook swallows down the tea he pulls a disgusted look to his face and sticks his tongue out. Jimin chuckles, settling into his seat next to Jungkook. “Does Jungkook like tea?” he asks.

“No, thank you,” Jungkook replies, putting the cup down and pushing it back towards Yoongi. 

Yoongi pours one cup for Jimin and then one for himself. “What do you usually drink at home?” he asks, carefully. 

“We don’t drink milk,” Jungkook explains, voice gravely serious. “One time, someone got the milk but he’s too little. Not Kookie, Kookie is not little. Kookie is a big kid. It was, umm, the dinosaur. He got the milk but he’s too little. He spilleded the milk. We don’t drink milk.”

“We must ask an adult to help us get things we can’t reach,” Yoongi explains. 

Jungkook looks down at the rice on his plate and sticks his fingers in it. “Kookie not bother, mustn’t bother.” 

There’s a moment in which Yoongi catches his husband’s very concerned gaze across the table, and the buzzing worry Yoongi had been keeping at bay in order to sort through later gets noisier in the back of his mind. 

He worries his bottom lip between his teeth before standing swiftly to his feet. “Jungkook is never a bother to us,” he says, tone serious, but Jungkook just shrugs it off. 

Now there’s anger prickling at the back of his mind along with his worry and Yoongi takes a little longer than is probably necessary to head to the fridge and pour Jungkook a cup of milk. He needs to fight someone, yell at someone or something on Jungkook’s behalf because this sweet, wonderful little boy deserves so much more than this. 

“Thank you,” Jungkook says when Yoongi has calmed himself down enough to push the boy’s milk towards him. 

“You’re welcome,” Yoongi replies. “You must tell me if you want more.” 

“Okay,” Jungkook agrees easily, fingers messily ripping into the hamburger on his plate. 

Jimin is quick to start up a lighter conversation, asking Jungkook about what he did at school today, who he played with, what he played with, what he learned. Jungkook tells a very confusing story about Hoseok teaching them how to write their names that ended in a purple dinosaur who wants to be big going raw and eating a lion. Jimin indulges the little boy with appropriately timed reactions that are far too dramatic but do a good job of keeping a warm smile across Jungkook’s face. 

Quietly, Yoongi listens, and quietly, Yoongi stews. 

By the time they’ve finished eating, there is still no call from Jungkook’s babysitter or any parent, and the clock on the stove says it’s dangerously nearing 9pm. Despite the young boy’s protests, Yoongi can see a heavy droop to his eyelids that probably isn’t being helped by the little crying fit he had earlier this afternoon.  

“Why don’t you two relax in the living room and I’ll clean up here?” Yoongi offers. 

Jimin frowns, piling the empty dirty dishes on top of each other. “But you made dinner.”

“There’s a call I have to make,” Yoongi explains, leveling Jimin a knowing look. His husband, ever quick to pick up on social cues nods once before jumping to his feet. 

He takes a moment to wipe Jungkook’s dinner off of his hands and face before helping the boy down from the table. “What would you like to do now?” he asks in a hushed voice.

Through fluttering, sleepy eyelashes, Jungkook looks up at Jimin and yawns. “We read a dinosaur book?” he asks, letting himself be led into the living room. 

“I don’t know if we have any,” Yoongi hears his husband say before the two of them disappear into the living room. He waits a few moments until he can just hear a distant hum of the two talking before he slips down the hall into the bedroom. He pulls his phone out of his back pocket and finds a total of 0 notifications. With a deep set worry to his brow, Yoongi scrolls through the contacts in his phone until he finds the one titled Jungkook’s Babysitter, a new addition he’s thankful he had the hindsight to put into his phonebook before he left. 

He flops himself down on the edge of the bed and holds his breath whilst the phone rings. 

Once, twice, three times…

“Hello?” a voice answers, a little groggy and a little exhausted. 

Yoongi, not expecting anyone to actually answer him, startles at the voice on the phone. “Oh um,” he stutters, sitting up straight as though the very person he’s talking to could see him slouching on the bed. “This is Park Yoongi from Seoul East Elementary school, am I talking to Kim Taehyung-ssi?” 

“Yes, this is Kim Taehyung,”  the babysitter replies. “What time is it?” 

Yoongi pinches at the bridge of his nose, trying to hold in his anger. “It’s 9pm.”

“Isn’t the school shut now?” Kim-ssi asks, confusion clouding his voice. 

Another sigh. “Yes, yes it is,” Yoongi explains. “And no one has yet to collect Jungkook.” 

There’s a pause on the other end of the phone. 

“What?”  

“I said, no one has come to collect Jungkook.” 

Another pause. 

“No, no, that can’t be right, because I called his dad. I told him. I told him I wouldn’t be able to get Jungkook today there was an emergency there still kind of is an emergency. He said it was fine… he said…” There’s a hysteria rising in the babysitter’s voice, a panic that makes Yoongi think that the guy isn’t all that bad of a person. 

“Hey, calm down I--” Yoongi placates, but his words are cut off short by an overtly worried tone on the other end of the phone. 

“You can’t tell me to calm down after telling me it’s 9pm and Jungkook is all alone at school!” Kim-ssi shouts and Yoongi can hear the sound of rustling fabric in the background. “I’ll be there in like 15 mins, maybe 30 my bike is out of action…”

“Kim-ssi, please calm down,” Yoongi tries once more, but the continued babbling of noncoherent worry he gets as a response makes Yoongi think that Kim Taehyung is a little too caught up in the situation to listen to reason right now. “Jungkook isn’t at school right now, I brought him home with me.” 

It sounds like Kim Taehyung hits something and a curse hisses through the receiver. “Well, where do you live I’ll just head there.” 

“I will tell you if you take a deep breath and sit back down for a moment,” Yoongi responds. 

“Bold of you to assume I’m going to take a seat when my little buddy has been abandoned,” Kim-ssi spits down the phone. 

With a reignated sigh, Yoongi rattles off his address. “How long will you take to get here?”

“30 mins, even if I have to run there,” answers Kim-ssi before the end call dial tone is ringing in Yoongi’s ear. He sighs, pocketing his phone once more and giving himself a moment to compose himself before he returns to the kitchen to clean. 

It would appear that Jungkook at least has one person in his life that cares about him. 

But for some reason that doesn’t make Yoongi feel any better. 

Chapter Text

Jimin has never composed any of his own songs, he never thought he was talented enough for that. He was content to have some sort of say in the lyrics and help in the creation of his music, but at the end of the day he’s never really had any real drive to go through the whole process from scratch by himself. 

Which is fine, he loves music and he loves singing, but dancing is his real passion. He always insisted to be the one to choreograph all of his songs and was fairly content with at least having a strong say in what it is he does in regards to live performances. 

But there’s been this little tune that’s been stuck in his head for a while now that’s really bugging him. At first he thought it was one of the other singers at his label’s song, or something he had heard on the radio, but no matter who he asked no one could tell him what song it was. 

Yet that little melody, that small refrain, continues to live in his mind rent free and Jimin isn’t sure what he should do about it. He’s come up with little hooks and melodies before, but nothing that ever made his heart do a little swoop or have a tingling of excitement spatter across his skin. 

Most importantly, however, none of the other little tunes he’s imagined up in his head before have ever been stuck in his head for this long. 

Jungkook feels like a weighted blanket from where he’s fallen dead asleep against Jimin’s chest. He thinks perhaps he should maneuver the boy into their bed or at least onto their stupidly large sofa. Anything would be more comfortable than in Jimin’s arms. 

But oddly, Jimin feels a sense of calm running his fingers up and down Jungkook’s back, his body relaxing at the idea that Jungkook is close and warm and safe. Plus he can’t stop himself from humming that little tune into Jungkook’s ear, hoping it helps ease him into a peaceful sleep.  

“I want you to be your light, baby, you should be your light…” he mutters to the tune of the little melody in his head before he scoffs and shakes the notion out of his head. 

“That was sweet,” Yoongi praises from the arch way to the kitchen. “Who’s song is that?” 

Snapping his attention to his husband, Jimin lets out a little yawn of his own and shakes his head. “No ones,” he says, softly, quietly. “Just something I’ve been thinking about.” 

Yoongi looks wholly impressed, sauntering over to plop himself down next to Jimin on the sofa. “Park Jimin, writing his own music?” he asks. 

With a click of his tongue and a roll of his eyes Jimin sighs. “I’m not writing any songs, just, thinking is all.” 

“What brought on this thinking ?” Yoongi queries. 

Jimin shrugs, placing a kiss to the top of Jungkook’s forehead before gingerly maneuvering the boy to lay across the sofa. “He was so tired,” Jimin comments a little solemnly. 

“Well he did have a good old cry today and eat three hamburgers, no wonder he’s tired,” Yoongi placates. 

With a hum, Jimin gently places Jungkook on the couch. “I’ve never seen a kid eat so fast,” he whispers, gnawing on his bottom lip. “Almost like he’s worried someone’s going to come and steal the food away from him.” Yoongi stays purposefully quiet besides Jimin. “And the whole thing with the car and the milk and the--” 

There’s a gentle kiss placed at the crook of Jimin’s neck, right where it meets his shoulder and the touch sends a cooling shiver running down his spine. “I’m worried too,” Yoongi agrees, words mouthed into Jimin’s neck.

Sighing deeply, Jimin tilts his neck to give Yoongi better access. “What are we going to do?” he whispers, quietly fearful. 

“Everything we can,” Yoongi replies, arms wrapping around Jimin’s middle before he hides his face in Jimin’s neck. “Everything we can,” he repeats once more, words lost into the golden expanse of Jimin’s skin. 

The doorbell rings then, startling the pair out of the little bubble they had built for themselves. “I’ll get that,” Jimin offers gently, patting at Yoongi’s hands to release him. Begrudgingly, Yoongi lets him go, fingers burning on his skin as they linger just a little longer than necessarily around his waist. 

The two of them have always found comfort in touch. Jimin was always the one to more outwardly seek it, whilst Yoongi sometimes can’t quite express what he needs out loud and relies a lot on the fact Jimin knows him so well in order to receive comfort. Feeling the burning lingering of Yoongi’s touch around his waist, Jimin leans down to press his lips firmly against Yoongi’s. 

Sweet, wonderful, caring Yoongi who puts everyone else first before himself. His husband had been doing such a good job of staying steady and resilient through a very emotionally draining evening, always the rock in which Jimin finds himself leaning against. Sometimes Jimin forgets that Yoongi is probably far more emotionally charged out of the pair of them despite him always acting the most calm. 

Jimin presses all his love and comfort into their kiss, nibbles ever so gently on Yoongi’s bottom lip just to hear his husband sigh and feel his body sag from relief beneath Jimin’s touch. They’re a team. They’re two halves of the same whole. Jimin knows when his husband needs help remembering that he doesn’t have to be the one to shoulder everything and save Jimin the worry.

“Thank you,” he whispers into Yoongi’s mouth just as the doorbell rings impatiently once more. “I’m proud of you, too.” There’s a sweet dusting to Yoongi’s cheeks, eyelashes fluttering and Jimin can feel his heartbeat stuttering in his husband’s chest. The bell rings again and Jimin presses one last kiss to his husband’s chapped lips before he has to leave their little moment.

As Jimin totters out of the room, he can hear the long breath his husband had been keeping trapped in his lungs escape pass Yoongi’s lips. Sometimes it takes a little push and a little love for Yoongi to realise he needs to take a moment to relax.

Pushing his hair from his face, Jimin opens the door with as pleasant a smile on his face he can muster. Exhaustion clings to his skin and he would like nothing more than to curl up on the couch with Yoongi and Jungkook and just sleep the worry away. But there’s still a little bit more adulting to be done before the day is over.

“Good evening,” Jimin greets, pushing the front door open wide. “How can I help?”  

The person in the doorway is far taller than Jimin but looks far younger than him. His skin is a shimmering gold even in the dull hallway lighting and there’s not a single blemish marrying his sharp face. Long thick lashes flutter around large, glistening dark eyes and a sweet, heart shaped mouth hangs open as though catching flies. The stranger’s hair, slightly longer down his neck and curled like a cherub, sits like a messy, chocolate brown bird’s nest atop his head in true bed head fashion. His clothes hang baggy on a thin frame, trouser legs so long they hide his shoes, and around his right wrist sits a blue cast. 

“Y-you’re not a teacher at Jungkook’s school,” the man mutters, voice as deep as an ocean.

Jimin’s brow furrows. “No, I’m the husband,” he says, eyes spying the stranger’s wrist. “You’re the babysitter, I take it?”  

Mouth still dropped and eyes wide, the man nods. “Kim Taehyung,” he greets, then bows like a French aristocrat, hand flourish and all. The red tint to Kim Taehyung’s cheeks leads Jimin to think that perhaps he had meant to bow normally, but the guy is a little star-struck.

“I’m-- “ begins Jimin, ready with a quick introduction on his tongue, but the man before him beats him to it.

“Park Jimin,” Kim Taehyung says and the apples of his cheeks are now a startling crimson. “I mean, I know who you are,” he tries to cover and fails miserably. “Everyone knows who you are though, I’m not a stalker or anything, I like you a normal amount. Like a non-creepy, average, casual amount. I just know who you are, because everyone knows who you are and…”

Somewhat enjoying the babysitter that abandoned Jungkook wriggling like a worm on a hook, Jimin snorts and folds his arms about his chest. He would very gladly let the man mutter on embarrassingly about nonsensical rubbish, but Jimin is a bigger person than that. “What happened to your wrist?” he asks, evenly, cutting Taehyung’s ramblings off. 

It takes a moment for the babysitter to process what’s just been said to him, looking down at his wrist, then back up to Jimin several times before his mouth makes a little O shape. “Accident,” he explains, briefly. “Today, in fact. Car hit me on my bike. It’s just a fracture.”

Oh, great, now Jimin feels guilty. 

“Shit,” he gasps, grabbing Taehyung by his good wrist and dragging him inside. “Get out of the cold or it’ll hurt more,” he says, shutting the door tightly behind Taehyung once the man is fully inside.

Thankfully Taehyung isn’t wearing any kind of shoe that requires hands to take off, simply slipping his slides off his feet. He stumbles over his stupid long trousers as he steps further into the apartment. The flush of red across his cheeks never leaves, eyes darting around the place as if hoping Jimin hadn’t seen him trip. “Doctors said I’ll be healed up soon,” he mutters all in one breath. “6 or so weeks, but no bike for a while.” 

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Jimin replies, gesturing for Taehyung to head down the hallway to the living room. 

With a shrug, Taehyung glances a peek over his shoulder and his eyes once again blow wide when he sees Jimin. Clearly the guy is struggling to comprehend that he’s currently walking through the house of a celebrity. Jimin has seen this kind of star-struck awe far too many times throughout his career that he tends to just ignore it now. Better to not say anything and let the other person get over themselves than to say something and embarrass the both of them.

“Are you in any pain now?” Jimin asks, eyes looking down at Taehyung’s wrist. 

Taehyung’s gaze follows Jimin’s and instinctively, he reaches out his good hand to gently smooth across his cast. “Not really,” he replies, flexing his fingers and flinching from the action.

Jimin is quick to jump in front of Taehyung and open the door to the living room for him. “Please don’t push yourself, we don’t want you fully breaking an arm, now,” he says softly, offering Taehyung the gentlest smile he can muster.

There’s a dreamy sort of expression Taehyung returns his smile, wide eyed and soft, like looking at a baby kitten making biscuits. Jimin coughs a little awkwardly to snap the guy out of his daydreaming, and Taehyung’s face deepens a darker shade of red as he drops his gaze and scuttles into the room.

The babysitter is quick to spot Jungkook curled up on the couch, and it pinches worry between Taehyung’s brow and has his whole body tightening. Jungkook is still sleeping peacefully, thankfully, his little fists balled around the edges of a blanket Yoongi must have brought over for him. 

Bare feet slap quickly against the wooden floor as Taehyung practically sprints into the living room and drops to his knees by the couch. He gently pushes the boy’s long hair from his face, fingers tickling against the round of his cheek. “Sorry buddy, I didn’t mean to let you down,” he whispers, quietly, words only Jungkook is meant to hear. 

Yoongi, who is now perched on the arm of the couch, is watching Taehyung like a hawk. His sharp eyes narrowed, lips pulled into a tight line and Jimin watches in rapt fascination as Yoongi sizes Taehyung up for all he’s worth. Jimin can tell Yoongi has been on the edge of snapping his frustration and anger in regards to the situation into the world and he was very certain his husband would be snapping at the babysitter. 

But Yoongi is an excellent judge of character and though he very clearly needs to push blame on someone, he’s not sure it should be Taehyung. 

After a few moments of Taehyung whispering little apologizes to Jungkook and stroking a tender hand through his hair, he turns his attention to Yoongi. “You must be the actual teacher,” he asks, bowing a little less awkwardly at Yoongi. “I’m so sorry to have caused you so much trouble.” 

Jimin watches the anger bleed from his husband’s muscles, his shoulders hunching and a sigh pushing its way through his lips. With a wave of his hand, Yoongi offers Taehyung a gentle smile. “It’s no trouble. We were just worried, is all. Jungkook had a bit of an... emotional evening to say the least.”

A heavy duty, guilt ridden groan tumbles its way out of Taehyung’s mouth. He drops his head into his hands, flinching when his forehead hits his injured arm.  “I swore the moment I took this job I wouldn’t let him down,” mumbles Taehyung, words a little lost into the palms of his hands. “And yet here I am, exactly the same as everyone else in his life and--”

“Hey now,” Yoongi pipes up quickly. “You got into an accident, you called his parents explaining you’d be unable to pick him up and then still came to get him anyway. You’re not to be blamed in this situation.” 

With a hum, Jimin nods. “You did all the right things, you did nothing wrong.”

“I swear I’m not normally like this,” Taehyung stutters out all in one breath, still unable to pull his head up from his hands. “I promise I’m always there to pick him up and I always let someone know if I can’t get him and…”

“We know,” Yoongi replies, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on the babysitter’s shoulder. He flinches at the contact, but Yoongi doesn’t retreat. “Hoseok, Jung- seonsaengnim , told me that you’re always very thorough when it comes to picking Jungkook up. That’s why we were so concerned that he had been left so long at school.”

A noise similar to that of a dying walrus escapes Taehyung’s lips and he digs the heels of his palms harshly into his eyes. “I knew I should have called the school, deep down I just knew it would be useless calling his Dad and yet for some dumb reason I--”

“I promise, it’s not your fault, kid,” Yoongi placates, slipping off the couch to kneel on the floor with Taehyung. 

It’s only then that Taehyugn snaps his head up from his palms and levels Yoongi with a narrow eyed look. “I’m not a kid,” he says, a little stunned.

With a cock of his brow, Yoongi snorts. “Sure do look like a kid.” 

“Well I’m not, so Taehyung is just fine thank you very much,” the babysitter explains, dropping his hands to his lap. 

Rolling his eyes, Yoongi nods. “Sorry, Taehyung-ssi…” he says only a little bit of exasperation in his voice. Most of Yoongi’s patience is saved solely for his students, after all. “I understand why you couldn’t make it to collect Jungkook, I’m more than a little concerned, however, over the fact his own parents haven’t bothered to reach out to anyone in regards to their missing son.” 

There’s a moment of silence in which Taehyung’s face falls grave, teeth nibbling into his bottom lip. Jimin feels his stomach flip nervously. “Yeah,” Taehyung agrees after a while. “They’re kind of busy people.”

There’s bile rising at the back of Jimin’s throat and he feels nauseous and dizzy and so incredibly exhausted. “That doesn’t really excuse their actions though,” he snaps, arms folded across his chest as he leans against the doorway to the living room. Taehyung steals a shy look towards him again, face speckling in red. “Not to throw big scary accusations around, but I would call that child neglect.” With a flinch, Taehyung lowers his gaze back to his lap. There’s guilt etched into every fiber of his body, weighing him down like a tonne of bricks. 

“And it’s not just today’s incident,” Yoongi adds, folding his left leg over his right. “Jungkook has been saying things that worry me, repeating adult phrases that children shouldn’t know. He carries worry on his back like a parasite, and not to mention he broke down into terrified crying when we tried to get him in the car...”

“He doesn’t like adventures ,” Taehyung explains, softly, slowly. “I think too many adults he’s put trust into have taken him on adventures that turned out to be anything but fun.” He lets out a long sigh, scrunching his eyes shut. “I knew there was a lot Jungkook had been through when I met him for the first time. But I’m just a babysitter, there’s not an awful lot I can do. So I thought at the very least I could be one of those adults that he could put his trust into and not have it be broken.” 

Jimin makes his way across the room slowly, finding himself perching at the edge of the couch and watching little Jungkook sleep without a care in the world. He looks so much younger asleep, far more innocent and carefree than the timid, scared little boy he is when he’s awake. 

It’s not fair. 

It’s not fair that at the age of 3 Jungkook has to shoulder such sadness and pain. 

It’s not fair that at the age of 3 he knows what it’s like to be disappointed and abandoned. 

It’s not fair that so many adults have let such a sweet boy down. 

It’s not fair that so many adults have treated a child with such neglect.

It’s not fair. 

The silence in the room claws at Jimin’s throat and suffocates his lungs.

“I think that’s normal,” Jimin finally says, unable to bear the silence any longer. “To see a broken child and want to give him the things in life he doesn’t have. It’s normal to want to see him smile, to see him happy, even if it’s just for a short while.” The silence of the room hangs heavier in the air than before, almost as though everyone is collectively holding their breath. Jimin hates how thick the silence is, like the summer humidity that clings to your very skin. “But in staying quiet we’re not actually giving Jungkook anything. In fact, we’re denying him everything he needs because we’re denying him help.” 

“What can I do?” Taehyung whispers. “I took on this babysitting job part time to help pay my way through University. The only experience I’ve ever had with kids is with my own siblings. I took a two day training course that basically focused on first aid. I don’t know what more I can do other than what I’m already doing.” 

“You can start by talking to us,” Yoongi explains. 

Jimin nods, reaching out to place his hand on Taehyung’s shoulder reassuringly. “Tell us all your worries and your concerns, spare no details.”

“What will you do with that information?” Taehyung asks, lip worried between his teeth. 

“The school has procedures in place to help get Jungkook away from any harmful situation and into one that is much better for him,” Yoongi explains. “I personally promise to see to it myself, in fact. I’ll follow through with every link in the communication chain until things are properly sorted.” 

Silence falls about the room once more as Taehyung stares imploringly at Yoongi, thoughts clearly running a mile a minute through his head. Eventually though, reason must get the better of him and his shoulders collapse under his concern, head nodding in agreement. “Okay,” he finally says. “I don’t know much, but I’ll tell you everything I know.” 

_____________  

“So, did you know that you’re married to South Korea’s sweetheart?” Taehyung asks as he helps pull blankets out from the linen closet. It was Jimin’s idea to have both Jungkook and Taehyung stay for the night. A decision made both from not wanting to risk a trip home in the car and having Jungkook wake up halfway through and freak out on them again and also in respect to Taehyung’s painful looking injury. 

“I am?” Yoongi replies with tired mirth. “I had no idea.”

Taehyung lets out a little confirmatory noise, trying to take more blankets than his one good arm can actually carry. “He’s had more number ones than I’ve had As on tests.” 

“You must be pretty dumb then,” Yoongi replies, slipping all the bed sheets out of Taehyung’s weak grasp until the guy is only carrying a pillow.

With a grumble, Taehyung shuts the linen closet door. “I’m not dumb, your husband is just talented.” 

“You don’t have to tell me that,” Yoongi agrees, slipping back down the corridor, Taehyung hot on his heels like an excited puppy. 

“I saw him live in Daegu once,” adds Taehyung, swinging the pillow by his side. “Honestly it was hypnotic. I came out of that show a changed man, I think I saw Nirvana.” 

“Really, now?” Yoongi sighs, there’s a headache pinching at his temples, he’s never wanted to curl up in bed and sleep more so in his life. But they’ve barely scratched the surface of their Jeon Jungkook conversation yet, so Yoongi knows they’re in for a long night. 

“Yoongi- seonsaengnim , as husband to South Korea’s sweetheart, does it ever bother you that for his dance break in Serendipity he basically humps the floor?” Taehyung asks.

The tips of Yoongi’s ears burn red. “N-no, it doesn’t.” 

Taehyung giggles. “Ohhh,” he says, teasing lilt to his voice. “So it does bother you, huh? But not so much in a jealous holy shit everyone is lusting over my husband way but in a holy shit I too am also lusting over my husband kinda way. Cute.” 

“This is an entirely inappropriate conversation to be having between us considering I met you like half an hour ago, Taehyung-ssi” Yoongi mumbles, hiding his flushed face into the blankets he’s carrying.

“Sorry,” Taehyung apologizes sheepishly. “It’s been an emotional day and I think my brain has decided that it’s stopped caring about social norms.”

Yoongi hums. “Yeah, I get that,” he mumbles, kicking the spare room door open carefully. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t worry about what?” Jimin whispers, tucking Jungkook under the thin sheet they keep over the spare bed. They never keep the heated flooring on in this room, and Yoongi can feel the bite of the chilling spring air at his ankles as he steps into the room.

“Noth…” Yoongi begins, but his words are caught off before he can finish them.

“The fact that your husband gets all bothered when you hump the stage during Serendipity,” Taehyung explains, slapping his hand across his mouth as though he were Pandora and he’s just let out the world's biggest secret. 

Blinking a little confused at Taehyung, Jimin cocks his head to one side before leveling his husband with a sly smile. “Oh you do, do you?” 

In a flustered bee line for the bed, Yoongi may or may not purposefully stomp on Taehyung’s big bare feet before dumping the extra sheets on the bed. “Now’s not the time for that,” he snaps as Taehyung whimpers behind him. 

“Don’t injure our guests,” Jimin scolds light heartedly. 

Yoongi ignores his husband, unfolding the top blanket and passing it to Jimin. “The duvet cover is currently in the wash after Namjoon’s more than unflattering incident last weekend.” 

“Don’t remind me,” Jimin shivers, placing a blanket over Jungkook’s sleeping body and tucking it tightly under him. “Did you bring pillows for Taehyung?” 

Turning to look at their guest, Yoongi is greeted by soft daydreaming eyes that quickly snap themselves back to reality when Taehyung  realises the couple are staring at him. He holds the pillow aloft like a trophy. “Right here,” he says, leaving them held high above his head. 

“And are you sure you don’t mind sharing the single with Jungkook?” Jimin asks. “The couch also folds out into a bed you might be a lot more comfortable on.”

Taehyung has a soft look on his face as he finally lowers the pillow back down to his sides. “That’s okay,” he explains, rounding the bed to plop the pillows next to Jungkook’s head. “He might wake up a little dazed and confused being in a strange new place during the night. I want him to at least have something familiar with him.” 

Yoongi, who had been unfolding the remaining blankets, hums. “I think that’s a good idea,” he agrees. “Sorry we can’t offer you a bigger bed.”

“This is more than enough for us,” Taehyung explains. “Jungkook has had a few sleepovers at my place in the past and I only have a single.” 

Red flag.

Jimin narrows his eyes. “Planned sleepovers or…” his words trail off, eyes turning to look at the boy tucked up tightly in the bed. 

“I guess,” Taehyung begins, reaching over to tuck Jungkook’s hair behind his ear again. “A little of both.” 

“Let’s head to the kitchen,” Yoongi suggests, feeling the worry radiating off of his husband in terrifying waves. He slips his hand to the small of Jimin’s back and pushes him gently towards the door. “Jungkook will be alright for now,” he reassures.

Both Jimin and Taehyung nod, eyes lingering just a little longer on Jungkook before they lead the way out the room. Yoongi leaves the door slightly ajar and the hall lights on before he follows Jimin and Taehyung into the kitchen. On instinct, Jimin flicks the kettle on and pulls out three coffee cups clearly not even clocking the fact it’s ticking close to 10pm now. 

“Have a seat,” Yoongi offers Taehyung, gesturing towards the table. “Coffee?” 

Taehyung nods, “Black two sugars.” 

Jimin hums, mind busy as his hands robotically set about making coffee and Yoongi takes a seat opposite Taehyung at the kitchen table. There’s still a few stray grains of rice stuck to the wooden table top here and there, but Yoongi can’t find it in himself to care. On any other occasion he’d be fussing with cleaning away the last few remains of dinner, always one to take pride in the appearance of their home. But right now that’s just not important. 

“You have a lovely home,” Taehyung says a little robotically. 

“Thanks,” Yoongi replies, equally as robotically. Now that Jungkook isn’t around them there's an awkward air settling in the apartment. The fact that neither Yoongi nor Jimin know anything about Taehyung other than that he babysits Jungkook and yet are letting him stay the night isn’t lost on Yoongi. The fact he seems to be a big fan of Jimin’s is more than a little worrying also. A sad couple of times Jimin has befriended people who turned out to be a little obsessed with idol Jimin and had little care for real Jimin. A few times Yoongi had brought home co-workers for dinner who had in turn lost their shit over the fact he was married to Jimin and then spilled their guts to reporters about the state of their private life like it was the most natural thing in the world. They’ve been through more fake friends than the average person and they’re typically more guarded around new people than they are right now.

Over the years the two of them have been together, they have grown to value their privacy more than anything in their life. Their home is their sanctuary. In here, they can be just Jimin and Yoongi, gross husbands in love who drink too much wine and fight over who last did the dishes. In their home they can say whatever they want, feel however they want to feel and not worry about how the rest of the world will portray them.

When they leave their sanctuary for the outside world they have to be professional at all times. They have to watch their backs for obsessive fans or peer around corners in fear of unexpected camera flashes and paparazzi. Outside their sanctuary Jimin no longer belongs solely to Yoongi, he belongs to the world, and Yoongi is just someone who got caught up in it all.

Giving Taehyung another quick once over, Yoongi pulls his face into a flat line. He’s really hoping that the scruffy hair and extra baggy clothing aren’t just for show and Taehyung really is just a sweet, somewhat ditzy and outspoken kid, who has a heart the size of a planet tucked away in his chest. It would be nice if this one time they’re letting their guard down it’s not going to turn around and bite them in the ass. It would be nice if Taehyung is exactly as he’s presented himself tonight. 

Taehyung squirms in his seat, apples of his cheeks blushing as he flits his eyes about the kitchen. “It’s really fancy,” he adds. “And we’re not even in Apgujeong-dong.” 

With a cock of his eyebrow, Yoongi asks: “what’s Apgujeong-dong got to do with anything?”

Shrugging, Taehyung says: “I honestly thought that’s where you lived, cos that’s where anyone who’s anyone lives. I didn’t even know they had apartments this nice so close to Myeong-dong.”

“For a minute there I thought you were some crazed stalker fan who had been spending too much time looking for The Park Jimin’s address,” Yoongi teases, but his words are a double tipped sword. It’s a warning: don’t you dare fucking mess with my husband.

Flustered shame and wide eyes of worry bleed across Taehyung’s face. He waves his hands around wildly in front of him, struggling to piece together the right things to say. His mouth clearly doesn’t match up to his thoughts though as in one long tumbled breath he says: “I-would-never-stalk-house-or-be-in-Jimin-ssi!”

Yoongi chuckles breathily, thankful for a little bit of lightness in the wake of a very somber evening. “Don’t look so put out kid, I’m just teasing,” he says and Taehyung shrinks into himself just a little.

“Not a kid,” is all he mumbles, gaze down cast to the table. He looks positively mortified and Yoongi isn’t ashamed to say he finds that hilarious. He knows he probably should be though.

With a deep sigh, Jimin folds his arms across his chest from the other side of the room. “This is why we never have company,” he says, not in the least bit as exasperated as he looks. “Stop asserting your weird dominance on our guests and Taehyung-ssi, don’t listen to Yoongi, he's being an ass.” The kettle whistles and Jimin turns quickly to take it off the stove before the noise wakes the sleeping boy down the hallway. “We’ve lived here since Yoongi was in college and I was a trainee,” he continues, carefully pouring boiling water into the mugs. “It’s really not all that much, but it’s home to us.” 

“Sweet,” Taehyung muses, fingers fidgeting nervously on the table top. “So you’re school sweethearts?” 

Yoongi leans back in his chair, watching Jimin busy himself in the kitchen. “Kind of,” he explains. “We’re both from out of town and we met by pure chance one day when Jimin was auditioning and I was taking entrance exams and I guess we just stuck.” 

“You guys really are adorable,” Taehyung notes as Jimin precariously carries all three cups over to the table at once. Yoongi pushes himself up from his chair and to his feet to meet him halfway, quick to take two mugs from Jimin’s hands before the younger can trip over his own feet and scold himself. Jimin lets out a tired thank you, pecking a quick kiss to Yoongi’s cheek before the two of them take their seats at the table. “ Extra adorable,” Taehyung adds, gladly taking one of the cups from Yoongi and warming his fingers against the white porcelain.  

Once the three of them are settled, Yoongi pulls his phone out and places it in the middle of the table. “Do you mind if I record this?” Yoongi asks. “It’s late and far easier than writing notes.” 

Taehyung nods and Yoongi presses the record button before settling himself back in his seat. Knowing that if he doesn’t make the first move there will be more silence throughout the apartment, Yoongi clears his throat and offers Taehyung a gentle smile. 

“Let’s start with how long you’ve been Jungkook’s babysitter, is that okay?” he offers.

Taehyung nods once more before remembering that he’s being recorded. “Uhm, yeah okay,” he mutters, cracking his neck. “I started working for the Jeon’s the day Jungkook first started school. He started late in the year, only a few weeks or something though, his Dad said they had moved from Busan and his late start couldn’t be helped.” 

“I’m from Busan,” Jimin mutters absentmindedly. Yoongi reaches out for his husband’s hand and squeezes it tightly. 

Taehyung is tapping a long finger against the side of his mug. “Jungkook doesn’t like to talk about Busan much,” he continues. “I’ve asked him before about what it was like there and he says he doesn’t know, but I think he just doesn’t want to talk about it.” 

The grip around Yoongi’s hand tightens and Yoongi starts running his thumb soothingly along Jimin’s knuckles. “What do your duties as a babysitter entail?” 

“I take him to school and pick him up afterwards too,” Taehyung explains. “To begin with, his Dad only wanted me to be a chauffeur of sorts. I’d arrive at 7am and Jungkook would already be waiting outside his apartment door and when I dropped him home he’d wave me off but I never saw him go inside. Took me a while to realise he didn’t have a key and his Dad would have him wait outside until I got there in the morning and then had him wait outside until someone in the family came home to let him in.” 

“Jesus,” Jimin breathes. 

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung apologies quickly, instinctively. 

Yoongi shakes his head. “It’s okay,” he says gently. It’s not okay, really, but Taehyung didn’t know better and therefore Yoongi’s anger isn’t for him. “What did you do when you found out the situation?” 

“I asked his dad what time he got home,” Taehyung explained. “He typically gets off around 8 but his wife gets home around 6. So I offered to keep him with me until someone was home to let him inside and to arrive earlier in the morning so he wasn’t left waiting in the cold for me.”

“What did his dad say?” Jimin asks, teeth worried into his bottom lip. 

Taehyung’s lips twist uncomfortably. “I wasn’t sure whether he was reluctant to pay me more or whether he just didn’t know what the best course of action for his son was, but he didn’t seem all that happy with the idea. It took me a little while of constantly telling him that I’d be more than happy to spend time with Jungkook, and ultimately he ended up agreeing to the new conditions when I told him I wouldn’t take anymore money for my time.” 

“That’s very good of you,” Yoongi praises. 

But Taehyung still looks incredibly guilty. “It’s not enough though,” he mutters. “I know it’s not, but I didn’t know what else to do, I’m not trained for something like this.” 

“We know,” Jimin reassures. 

It takes a few moments for Taehyung to swallow down his worry and continue. But both Jimin and Yoongi wait patiently for his next words. “For a long time I just assumed the family was very low-income, parents working long hours just to have enough money to put food on the table…” his words trail off at the end, a deep pinch forming between his brow.

“But?” Jimin probs and there’s a nervous bounce to his leg under the table that Yoongi can feel vibrating through their touch.

Taehyung sighs, cocking his head to one side, his neck cracks before he repeats the motion on the other side. “Jungkook calls his mother by her first name, Ahnjong-ssi,” he continues, moving on to cracking his knuckles now, clearly a nervous habit. “I don’t think she’s his real mother and she never refers to herself as that either. She never really says more than a morning or evening greeting to me when she sees me. I don’t like her. I don’t think Jungkook likes her either. I think she scolds him alot.”

Stealing himself for the worry that will surely follow his words, Yoongi tightens his hold around Jimin’s hand. “Physically?” he asks and Jimin’s whole body tenses as he waits for Taehyung’s answer.

But the babysitter simply shakes his head. “I’ve never seen any signs of that on Jungkook and he’s never alluded to the fact she does, but I obviously can’t be certain.”

“That’s understandable,” Yoongi replies, gently. However, Jimin doesn’t relax a single bit. “What about his dad? You seem to have the most contact with him?”

Taehyung takes a large gulpful of breath before he continues. “I haven’t met his dad face to face. He’s always busy with work. Usually he answers my phone calls and handles any problems I put to him. But there’s always a very clear lack of interest when it comes to Jungkook.” 

“It would appear so if tonight's incident is anything to go by,” Yoongi sighs, pressing the fingers of his spare hand against his temple. “You mentioned that he’s stayed with you a few times?” 

Taehyung nods. “A couple of nights I brought Jungkook home at 6 like I always do and there was no one there. We waited around for a while and still no one came home. I called his Dad and he seemed confused as to why his wife hadn’t come home, but he also sounded incredibly busy, so I just offered to have him for the night.” 

“Let me guess,” Jimin scoffs. “At no extra cost?” 

“Yeah,” Taehyung sighs. “It was the only way to get him to say yes. I wasn’t about to leave a 3 year old outside potentially all night in a big city. I dread to think what could have happened to him.” 

“You did the right thing,” Yoongi reassures. “Thank you for that.” 

Taehyung shakes his head. “I’m not worthy of your thanks, I should have done more.” 

“What more could you have done?” Jimin asks.

With a shrug, Taehyung looks down at his neglected coffee, almost as though he’s seeing it for the first time. “I could have called the police I suppose.” 

“Why didn’t you?” Yoongi asks softly, his voice comes out calm but there’s anger firing through his veins. 

“He’s scared of adventures ,” Taehyung replies, lips downturned. His bed head hair flops unflatteringly into his eyes, long lashes kissing the ends as he lowers his head further against his chest. “I haven’t used my car since I started this job. Whenever I used to bring him to it, he’d cry and cry and promise me he’ll be good so long as he doesn’t go on an adventure . Tell me if I’m wrong, but to me that's a sign of a broken kid who’s been moved too many times in his life and it's caused him some serious trauma. I didn’t want to uproot him again and add more to that.” His voice is so small, so distant and pained and it has Yoongi’s heart throbbing in his chest. 

Poor Taehyung. The kid did what he thought was best for Jungkook in a situation he has no experience in and Yoongi cannot fault him for that. What he can fault though, and what he can be incredibly angry about, is the people who call themselves Jungkook’s parents. 

“Is there anything else you think we need to know about?” Yoongi asks. 

“His clothes,” Jimin chimes in. “Sorry I know this is Taehyung-ssi’s time, but sometimes he wears the same clothes a few days running, stains and rips galore. And his hair is too long and unruly, sometimes I don’t think it’s been washed.”

Snapping up from his coffee, Taehyung levels Jimin with a worrying look. “I try to give him a bath at my place whenever I can, but I don’t know what he gets up to when he’s not with me.” Taehyung elaborates. “I don’t know how he lives at home, I’ve never been inside the apartment. I don’t know what the conditions are like in there. But Ahnjong-ssi always looks very well put together.” 

That’s really not all that reassuring in Yoongi’s mind. It’s just another red flag on top of a pile of too many red flags. “I see, thank you Taehyung-ssi,” Yoongi adds, reaching over to stop the recording on his phone. 

“I wish there is more I can do,” he sighs. 

“This is already so much,” Yoongi explains. “It may not feel like it because all you’ve done is talk about what you know, but I can take this to a higher authority and I can start seeing to it that the right thing happens for Jungkok.”

There’s a brief pause, Taehyung returns his gaze back to his coffee and grips it tighter between his palms. “What is the right thing for Jungkook?”

“Right now, I don’t know for certain because I’m not a social worker and things I do know only goes so far. But to be honest with you, I think Jungkook needs to be placed with a better family.” 

Once again Taehyung snaps his gaze up from his coffee, but this time he looks a lot brighter and far less worried. “Can’t you take him?” 

“Excuse me?” Jimin coughs, choking on his coffee. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Taehyung nods, leaning further across the table. “You guys are already super attached to him as is right? I mean it’s not hard to fall for my little buddy to be fair. But he loves you guys too, talks about the cat- seonsaengnim and Jimin-hyung who likes yellow all the time. Plus you guys are happily married and have good stable jobs and know how to take care of children properly, honestly it’s a perfect solution!” 

Yoongi shakes his head, “It’s not that simple,” he explains. “There’s a process. We can’t just take him…”

“Who would care? You’re great, Jungkook loves you, and it’ll be one less sad kid in the world. How is this not that simple?” Taehyung counters. 

“For one thing, we’re not ready to have kids…” Jimin stutters, face red. 

Taehyung looks wholly unconvinced. “Really?” he scoffs. “Coulda fooled me with the way you’ve been playing house the last few weeks.” 

Yoongi sighs, pressing his fingers tighter against the burning headache at his temples. “It’s taken me years to try and get my husband comfortable with the idea of being a parent, could you back off and not unravel all my hard work in one night?” 

“Do you not want Jungkook?” Taehyung asks, puppy dog pout on his lips. 

“That’s not--” Jimin begins, spare hand clawing at the kitchen table. 

“Do you not have the space for him?”

“Look, we---”

“Do you not love him?”

“I’m trying to say it’s not--”

“Is he not good enough for you?” 

“Enough!” Jimin shouts, standing to his feet and letting the kitchen chair tumble to the floor behind him in a loud clatter. 

Yoongi can feel his husband’s hand slipping from his grip and he struggles to hold on. “Jimin--” he starts but Jimin is deaf to words now. Too caught up in his own head, his insecurities and worry clouding his better judgement. It’s not all that often that Jimin loses his calm composure enough to blow up in a spectacular way. He’s always patient, always considerate, but we’re all human and there’s only so much Jimin can take.

“Jungkook deserves all the good in the world. He deserves the absolute best, better than the best in fact, and I’m not, I’m not--” there’s a wobble in Jimin’s voice, teeth gnawing together to stop himself from full blown sobbing and Yoongi feels his heart shatter for his husband.

Perhaps Yoongi should have seen this coming earlier and done something to help ease Jimin’s worries. But neither of them expected to be sat in their kitchen with a strange babysitter telling them the trauma a little boy they have come to care for has been through. Neither of them expected to be even considering whether they are the right fit for said child because the two of them already had a plan in regards to their future and the possibility of children. Jimin likes plans, he thrives with plans. The unknown is daunting and all consuming and sometimes even Yoongi struggles to handle the curve balls life throws at them.

A curve ball, for instance, like his husband believing he’s not good enough to love and provide for Jungkook.

“Jimin,” Yoongi coaxes gently, voice so quiet it’s practically a croak. “You know that’s not true.” 

There’s nothing from Taehyung now, silence reining king from the other side of the table. Yoongi stands to his feet to, tries to reach out and hold his husband together before he very well splinters into a thousand pieces across their kitchen floor. But Jimin flinches away from his hands, almost stumbles over the upturned chair behind him as he cowers away from Yoongi’s touch. 

“Jimin,” Yoongi tries again, a little more forceful this time, but his husband won’t look at him. 

Instead there is only silence. 

Yoongi is getting really god damn tired of the silence. 

“I’m going to bed,” Jimin finally mutters, practically running from the kitchen, slipping out of Yoongi’s grasp like sand through an hourglass. 

Chapter Text

Jimin has always been early to rise no matter what time he went to bed the night before. But with the way his mind is churning and his heart feels all too heavy in his chest, he decides waking up extra early won’t do him any harm.

Yoongi is curled up in a tight ball in the bed beside him, a very purposeful distance made between them that makes Jimin feel just so goddamn awful. He was so sure he was passed this stupid faze of keeping everything bottled up so as not to worry people unessisarily. He was done with being unable to deal with the pressure all on his own and then blowing his lid like a bottle of coke that’s been shaken around too much. But for the first time in a very long time, Jimin is really struggling to figure out his thoughts for himself let alone share them with his husband. Yoongi undoubtedly deserves better than anything Jimin is giving him right now, and yet Jimin doesn’t know how to change that. 

As quiet as a mouse, Jimin slips out of bed, fingers ghosting over the pale dumpling cheeks of his sweetly sleeping husband. His bare feet are cold against the wooden floor, the heating timed to come on far later than the ungodly hour Jimin has decided to rise. But he doesn’t care, he welcomes the sharp cold of the wooden flooring and without looking back at Yoongi, Jimin leaves their bedroom and quietly totters down the corridor to the kitchen. 

Their apartment feels far more stagnant and quiet than it usually does. The sky is a bruised purple outside the living room windows, the always busy streets of Seoul ringing in an eerie soundless calm that has a shiver chasing it’s way up Jimin’s spine. With a sigh, Jimin turns his back on the new day and flicks on the kitchen lights. Pulling the sleeves of his hoodie further over his hands, Jimin comes face to face with the coffee cups that had been left on the kitchen table from last night. 

He should clean them up. 

But instead of dealing with the mess, Jimin’s feet take him over to the cupboards above the sink. He spends a good few minutes rummaging about inside, looking for the box of pancake mix that he had bought on a whim last week when he was really craving something sweet. He’s supposed to be watching what he eats right now, what with a comeback just around the corner— but honestly, Jimin doesn’t give a fuck about that.

He eventually finds the box shoved at the back behind a couple packets of super hot ramyun and unceremoniously yanks it out. He spends 5 minutes reading through the instructions on the back, then another 3 re-reading through the instructions again because nothing sunk in. And in the end, he places the box on the counter and just glares at the box. 

Everything is moving just a little bit too fast. It’s almost as though Jimin can feel the earth turning below his feet and there’s no way for him to make it stop. It feels like just yesterday that Jimin had met Jungkook for the first time and now suddenly everyone and their mothers are ready for the three of them to be one big happy family. 

Honestly, Jimin is struggling to understand where the connection between two adults caring about the safety of a child leads Taehyung to believe they should be his parents. He’s just doing what any good person would do; take an interest into the wellbeing and safety of a clearly neglected kid. That doesn’t mean he’s fit to be a parent, let alone Jungkook’s parent. 

The thought had never really crossed his mind before last night, either. He was just a kid Jimin had grown to care about, all he wanted, all he still wants, is what’s best for Jungkook and Jimin is not that. 

Right?

Jimin’s an idol with a 12 hour day schedule and tours that take him halfway around the world for months at a time and snoopy fans that would do anything they can to get any kind of picture or glimpse of him and his private life. There are cameras pointed in his face 24/7 there are schedules and chaos that make him unable to turn up on time for a goddamn teddy bear’s picnic for crying out loud. That’s not the kind of thing a kid like Jungkook needs. That’s not a stable enough home for him. 

Jimin is not a stable enough parent for him.

Right?

Yoongi, on the other hand… god Yoongi would make such a perfect parent for any child and Jungkook would be more than lucky to have Yoongi looking after him. The man is so attentive to Jimin’s needs and wellbeing as is, that it’s almost a wonder whether Jimin himself is still just a kid. He feels like it half the time if he’s being honest, a dumb kid who barely knows how to cook instant pancakes let alone raise a kid. 

Yoongi is a wholly good fit for a parent but Jimin is no way near there yet. Doesn’t know if he’ll ever be if he’s being honest. 

Jimin is just not good for Jungkook. 

Right?

“If you stare at the box it doesn’t magically cook itself,” a deep rasp of a voice explains that has Jimin jumping out of his skin. He spins on his heels to see a sheepish and incredibly exhausted looking Taehyung standing in the doorway to the kitchen. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” 

Jimin shrugs, turning back to glare at the box. “It’s alright,” he mumbles. “I’m trying to figure out how to make pancakes.” 

“Are you telling me South Korea’s sweetheart doesn’t know how to make box pancakes?” Taehyung snickers. 

Clicking his tongue, Jimin shoots his guest a glare over his shoulder. “On any other morning the answer would be no.”

“But today?” 

Sheepishly, Jimin turns back to look at the pancakes. “I’m tired.” 

“Same,” Taehyung agrees, taking the box from off the counter and reading the instructions. “It says you need two eggs and a cup of milk.”  

“Fridge,” Jimin hums, shuffling over to it. He pulls open the door and carefully looks at the eggs sat in their tray on the top shelf of the door. It takes him a little longer than usual to snap out of his daydreams and grab two of them in one hand before grabbing the carton of milk in the other and slamming the fridge shut. 

He passes the ingredients to Taehyung who appears to now be in charge of breakfast rather than Jimin. “The measuring cups are in the draw to your right,” he adds, pointing at the draw in question. Taehyung thanks Jimin before setting the eggs and milk carefully on the counter top.

“Mixing bowl, spoon, cooking oil and a frying pan,” Taehyung adds as he rummages around for the right sized measuring cup. 

Jimin nods, feet moving on autopilot as he gathers all the things Taehyung has requested, depositing each item he finds on the counter top by the ingredients before going to find the next one. 

Chuckling, Taehyung takes the frying pan from Jimin’s hands before he places it on top of the mixing bowl. “That can go on the stove, you can put the cooking oil next to it.” 

“Mhm,” Jimin nods. “Sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” Taehyung adds before he gets busy mixing all the ingredients together. The sounds of cracking eggs and the spoon hitting against the side of the mixing bowl is all that fills the space in the kitchen, that and the buzzing of Jimin’s thoughts as they fly around his brain all too fast for him to catch. 

It takes a little while for Jimin to realise that Taehyung has been calling him. Shame blushes his cheeks as he turns to their guest with an apologetic smile on his lips. “Sorry.”

“Again, don’t be,” Taehyung says, clicking on the stove. “It should be me who should apologize.” 

Jimin furrows his brow. “What?” 

With a sigh, Taehyung pours a little oil on the pan. “I got a little too... excited , yesterday and have clearly pushed you into something that you’re not ready to deal with just yet. I’m sorry about that.”

Feeling as though someone has kicked his knees out from under him, Jimin flops into one of the chairs at the kitchen table and lets a long sigh fall pass his lips. “This is complicated.”

“You’re telling me,” Taehyung chuckles humorously. “If I wasn’t a mature student with a debt the size of Incheon, I’d take Jungkook in myself.” 

“You would?” Jimin asks, eyebrows knitting together as he comes to terms with Taehyung’s little revelation. “You’d give up the rest of your life like that for Jungkook?”

”I wouldn’t consider it giving up the rest of my life,” Taehyung explains. “It’s more like starting a new chapter.” He dollops a generous amount of pancake mix onto the frying pan. “But I love that kid a whole lot, if I was in a stable place I’d be more than willing to give him everything he needs and deserves.” The pancake mix sizzles noisy on the pan. “Whoops, too hot,” Taehyung mumbles to himself, lowering the heat.

“And you’re ready for that? That ... responsibility ?” Jimin asks in a small voice. 

With a hum, Taehyung taps a spatula that Jimin doesn’t remember getting for him, against the side of the frying pan. “I don’t think anyone is ever ready for this kind of responsibility, no matter how assured they are that they will be.” He flips the pancake over and waves the spatula at Jimin. “Can you grab me a plate?” 

Jimin slowly stands from his chair, wandering over to the cupboard with the plates and grabbing the biggest one they have. “You have to be somewhat ready for that responsibility though, otherwise no one would ever have kids in the first place.” 

“True,” Taehyung agrees, taking the offered plate from Jimin and slapping the well cooked pancake onto its belly. “But I think being a parent is a type of responsibility that grows in understanding once you have a kid. It’s a hands on kind of responsibility. All the self help books and parental classes can only do so much. You gotta have that kid in your arms before you realise what type of responsibility it is you have now.” 

Jimin turns to lean against the counter, folding his arms across his chest. “And what makes you so sure you’re good enough for that responsibility?” 

The pan doesn’t sizzle this time as Taehyung dollops on more pancake mix. He turns the pan in his hand, spreading the mixture out as evenly as possible but he ends up making an odd little circle. “What made your parents good enough for that responsibility? And their parents before them and theirs before that?”

“I--” Jimin whines, feeling like he wants to pull out his hair. “I dunno.” 

Flipping the second pancake, Taehyung hums once more. “They loved you right?”

Jimin lets out an exasperated huff. “Of course they did,” he says. “But love isn’t the be all and end all in raising a child.”

The slap of the second pancake on the plate echoes loudly around the room. “Love isn’t always saying I love you . Love is in the little things,” Taehyung explains, moving swiftly onto pancake number three. “Love is helping you with your homework, in reading to you at night, in indulging in your childhood daydreams, in cooking for you, in picking you up from school, in holding your hand as you cross the street, in letting you sleep in their bed so the monsters don’t get you, in kissing your knee better when you fall over or even in buying a whole convenience store worth of snacks for a little boy who forgot to bring enough to share.” He shoots a wink Jimin’s way and the apples of Jimin’s cheeks flush a brilliant red. Taehyung chuckles, turning back to breakfast. “Love is in the details. Love is in all you do. And I think love is exactly what you need for raising a child. It’s love that kept our parents going, after all.”  

“So what you’re saying is, love is a guiding force?” Jimin asks. 

Taehyung pulls a disgusted face. “Did you have to make it sound so cheesy?” 

“Shut up,” Jimin scoffs, nudging Taehyung playfully. “For a kid you really are very well knowledgeable on the world.” 

This time, it’s Taehyung who whines, slapping pancake three on the plate. “Not you too. I’m not a kid.” 

“You’re a college student,” Jimin justifies. 

With a roll of his eyes, Taehyung adds a little more oil to the pan before starting the next pancake. “Not all college students are fresh out of high school. I’m a mature student,” he says, proudly. “In fact we’re the same age give or take a few months.” 

“We are?” Jimin asks, thoroughly surprised. Taehyung nods, tapping the spatula on the side of the pan again. “Well colour me surprised.”

With a pout Taehyung turns a puppy dog look on Jimin. “Do I really seem so naive and innocent?” 

“To put it bluntly, yeah,” Jimin teases. 

With a wide boxy grin Taehyung puffs out his chest and says: “But that’s okay, that just means I’ve got a pure heart.” 

“Now who’s cheesy,” Jimin scoffs. 

Taehyung shrugs, smile unwavering as he turns back to breakfast. “Go wake up Jungkook and your cat of a husband before they’re both late for school.” 

Jimin hums in agreement, shuffling his way to the living room, body feeling oddly lighter, only to find Yoongi hiding in the hallway. He doesn’t look at all sheepish for eavesdropping, gaze staring at his feet and back leaning against the wall. 

It doesn’t matter how old he gets, Jimin still feels that childlike shame after having himself a little temper tantrum. It’s somewhat awkward, figuring out what he should do next, how he should behave after being a bit of a drama queen last night. But thankfully, Jimin is married to the most wonderful person in the entire world, and before he can get out an apology, Yoongi has pulled him into a tight hug. 

Cinnamon and cotton, that’s what Yoongi smells like. It’s a scent Jimin has come to associate with home and as soon as his face buries itself into the crook of Yoongi’s neck he feels so much stress evaporate from his muscles. He sags into Yoongi, drinking in the warmth of his husband and not ever wanting to let go. 

“I know,” Yoongi whispers into the crown of Jimin’s head. 

With a sigh, Jimin places a gentle kiss to the juncture of Yoongi’s neek. “You know.” 

____________           

Jungkook is not a single bit confused nor worried when he wakes up in the spare room to Jimin gently running the pad of his finger along the bridge of his nose. In fact his excitement for the fact he just had a sleepover at Jimin-hyung’s house is comparable to that of a child waking up on Christmas morning. Because did you know that Daeyoung had a sleepover once and according to Jungkook they weren’t scared? And then it went wishy washy shaa shaa and the bird was there, the blue bird not the black bird and they went home in the morning. Because Yoongi didn’t and to be honest he’s still not sure what it is he’s supposed to understand from that. 

But the fact all three adults in the house with him do not understand a single excitable gibberish nonsense coming out of the boy’s mouth means nothing to Jungkook. The boy gobbles down four pancakes with an extra helping of syrup and then spends 20 minutes being hosed down in the shower by both Jimin and Taehyung whilst Yoongi busies himself getting ready for work. There are sticky handprints on the kitchen chairs and table but Yoongi doesn’t bother cleaning them up, that’s a task for later. In fact, the evidence of Jungkook’s stay at their house has a warm sort of smile on Yoongi’s face that he’s beginning to think is a smile that’s especially for Jeon Jungkook only. 

It hurts his chest a little to think that he can’t have that smile everyday. It’s a little melancholy to think about future mornings in which he and Jimin will wake up with no little boy in the room down the hall jabbering on about any thought that comes to his head and getting his sticky hands over every surface of their home. 

It would appear that Jungkook has very quickly made himself a little sticky home in a room of Yoongi’s heart and he has to remind himself that no matter where Jungkook ends up, the fact he will be happy is all that’s important. 

Eventually, all four of them leave the apartment at 6:50am with the intent to grab the bus. They had a good five minute hen huddle in the kitchen with hushed tones and hurried worries passed between them whilst Jungkook watched a bright early morning children’s show that hurt all of Yoongi’s senses. The issue at hand was whether Jungkook was uncomfortable with all forms of transportation or if it was just cars, and if so how would they possibly get the boy calmly to school for the day? Yoongi couldn’t afford to be late and Taehyung was already certain he wasn’t making his first lecture of the day as is. Jimin said he could walk Jungkook to school but they live so far out that by the time they got there the day would practically be over. 

“Push comes to shove, I take the day off and I stay with him,” Jimin says. “We know there’s no one at his house and we know no ones going to care if we ring his parents and explain the situation. This would be our best scenario.”

Pulling his lips into a hard flat line, Yoongi sighs. “Don’t you have a jacket shoot today? Can you really afford to miss that?”

There’s a look about Jimin’s face that heavily implies that no, no he can’t miss any sort of schedule this close to comeback season. “They can just reschedule, it’s not a big deal.”

“It clearly is though,” Taehyung interjects. One evening and sleepover suddenly makes him comfortable enough to slot himself into Yoongi and Jimin’s lives, and worry as though he’s always been there. “I can miss a day of class.”

“You literally pay to be there,” Jimin interjects. “Don’t be stupid.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Yoongi takes a step back from the heated debate to clear his head. “We’re not even positive if getting on the bus will be an issue yet. Let’s just, for now, take him down without mentioning that very triggering word that starts with A, okay?” he suggests in his no nonsense tone. 

A little reluctantly and incredibly concerned both Jimin and Taehyung agree. “I’ll get him ready,” Taehyung offers, shuffling out of the kitchen. 

Thankfully though, all their worrying is for nought as Jungkook is A-OK with the green bus that pulls up to their stop. “The wheels on the bus go round and round,” he sings, swinging Jimin and Yoongi's hands that he’s clutching onto extra tight. There was a little dilemma when they left the apartment as to who’s hand Jungkook was going to hold on their trip to school, but with a little persuading from Taehyung -- who reminded him that he can hold Taehyung’s hand after school -- Jungkook had settled with walking in the middle of Jimin and Yoongi. 

It makes Yoongi’s heart incredibly soft playing family as they head to school. He’s always pictured what it would be like to have a family with Jimin, honestly sometimes it’s all he thinks about. But this is more than any of his dreams gave credit to. 

He never thought he’d feel as much joy as he does swinging Jungkook along the pavement with Jimin. He never thought he’d smile as widely as he does listening to Jungkook sing the wheels on the bus for the fifth time despite the kid only knowing one verse. 

His heart does a little kickflip every time he sees the soft gaze Jimin holds only for Jungkook and his breathing stutters in his chest like a trapped butterfly everytime Jungkook’s little hand pats against his thigh for his attention. God , does Yoongi want this. He wants a family so incredibly badly. He just wishes more than anything that Jimin could get past his insecurities and realise that this is exactly what he wants too. 

They wave goodbye to Taehyung when they arrive at the bus stop down the road from the school, as the babysitter scrambles off in the other direction to see if he can make the last few minutes of his morning class. Jimin, on the other hand, doesn’t have his first photoshoot until noon, so he has nowhere else to be than walking Jungkook to school with Yoongi, something of which makes the boy incredibly happy. 

“Round and round,” Jungkook says, kicking up the fallen cherry blossom petals that litter the pathway. They swirl around his little feet like a pink tornado and make him giggle. “Cooky likes pink, pink starts with p and then we all live happily ever after.” 

“What will you do at school today?” Yoongi asks, absentmindedly running his thumb soothingly along the back of Jungkook’s little hand.  

Jungkook has to think hard for a moment before he kicks up more cherry blossoms around his feet. “Today I eat the lion.” 

With a snort, Jimin nods his head. “And why are you going to eat the lion?”

“I eat the lion, the lion goes rawr and then we look at butterflies and then we wash our hands for lunch,” Jungkook explains.

Yoongi chuckles, “Jung- seonsaengnim told me that you’re going on a butterfly hunt today?” he asks and Jungkook nods. It’s not a nod of agreement Yoongi comes to realise, but just a nod, as the boy is too preoccupied with the petals on the pavement. “Will you come and show me the butterflies you find at lunch?” Yoongi asks. 

“`Kay,” Jungkook sing-songs. “I show cat- seonsaengnim the butterflies. We not eat the butterflies. Butterflies are small. I want to be big, rawr!” 

With a cock of his eyebrow, Jimin worries his teeth into his bottom lip. “Is he supposed to be saying a lot of gibberish like that?” he quietly asks Yoongi over the top of an oblivious Jungkook’s head. “I feel like at three he should be talking more coherently? I think I was making correct sentences at three.” 

Yoongi looks down at Jungkook just to double check the boy isn’t paying them any attention, before turning back to his husband. “This kind of story making is how children comprehend the world around them,” he explains, but Jimin looks wholly unconvinced. “He’s a little further behind in his speech than other kids his age. But, given everything Jungkook has gone through, I think that’s normal. With the right direction and a little extra time he’ll be caught up in no time.” 

With a sigh, Jimin nods before returning his gaze to Jungkook who’s squealing like a pig in utter amusement that he’s managed to kick a petal up so high it’s landed on his nose. Yoongi chuckles, removing the petal and holding it out in front of Jungkook’s face. “Make a wish,” he says. Jungkook screws his eyes tightly shut, feet still in his walk to school before opening them and blowing the petal away. 

“Bye bye!” he calls after the falling petal before dragging both Jimin and Yoongi towards school. 

____________

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Jeon Jungkook Seoul East Elementary.

Dear Kim Seokjin, 

Some fuck-wads who aren’t fit to be parents decided to gave birth to the most amazing boy in the entire fucking world, and now I have come to find out that his home life is bad and his parents are neglectful.

Do something.

Yoongi.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: RE: Jeon Jungkook Seoul East Elementary.

Dear Min Yoongi,

The utter disrespect you hold for me is a joke. 

Where is my hyung ? Where is my please ?

Jin.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Jeon Jungkook Seoul East Elementary.

Dear Kim Seokjin- hyung ,

Some fuck-wads who aren’t fit to be parents decided to gave birth to the most amazing boy in the entire fucking world, and now I have come to find out that his home life is bad and his parents are neglectful.

Now please do something.

Yoongi.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: RE: Jeon Jungkook Seoul East Elementary.

It’s a good thing I love you.

Send me through his school records and I’ll send someone round to his apartment within the next two days.

Jin.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Jeon Jungkook Seoul East Elementary.

When you say someone you better mean yourself because there’s no way in hell I want anyone else handling a case I am personally attached to. 

Yoongi.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: RE: Jeon Jungkook Seoul East Elementary.

Well of course I’m going to be handling this case.

I’m the most competent person in our whole department. 

Who else do you think I’d send? Namjoon?

Don’t joke.

Jin.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Jeon Jungkook Seoul East Elementary.

Cold.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: RE: Jeon Jungkook Seoul East Elementary.

I’ll be back to you within two business days. 

You’re welcome.

____________ 

For a while nothing really changes nor does anything major happen. 

Jimin point blank tells his assistant and managers that all of his schedules have to be concluded by 3pm every weekday with no exception. There were a lot of worried looks and gentle voices trying to reason with Jimin that he has a responsibility and sometimes that means his schedule is inflexible. But ultimately, Jimin wasn’t having it, unwavering and firm in his decision. 

He wants to be there for Jungkook as much as possible and if people who work non idol jobs can balance child care and a career easily then why can’t he? 

He’s proud of himself when they finally cave and begrudgingly agree to his demands. Jimin can practically see the dark bags under their eyes manifest as they pull their phones out and start the long process of rearranging the next few weeks. He does feel bad, tells them he appreciates them an awful lot for this and then buys everyone coffee as a thank you. 

It means he has to start earlier in the day and miss eating breakfast with Yoongi in the mornings. And it means that his lunch break now consists of eating whatever the fuck his manager grabbed him at the nearest convenience store whilst he’s busy running around. But Jimin doesn’t really mind the sacrifice. Working lunches aren’t necessarily new to him, and now that he’s done by 3pm he gets to spend all afternoon and the evening with Yoongi. 

Though it’s tough and tiring, Jimin thinks it’s 110% worth it when he shows up at the school in the afternoons and is greeted by a flying hug and an extremely excited giggle. 

“Afternoon little one,” Jimin greets, blowing a raspberry on his cheek. “What did you do today?”

Jungkook, who is still giggling, smiles wildly as his brain filters through all the things he did today and tries to figure out what he wants to tell Jimin first. Eventually he starts jumping on the spot in over bubbling excitement and says: “In the shoe!”

With a pinch in his brown Jimin cocks his head to one side. “What’s in the shoe?”

“The lady! She’s in the shoe,” Jungkook explains, still jumping in excitement. “She ate the fly and then she lived in the shoe and then the cat he had a spoon and then and then—“

Hoseok, with his smile as bright and gentle as the sun’s rays itself, saunters over wearing his hair in messy pigtails and covered in a variety of mismatched hair pins. “We read a lot of stories today, didn’t we Jungkook?” he offers by way of real explanation.

Jimin chuckles, covering his hand with his mouth. “Is this a new look for you? Or have the kids been playing hairdresser?”

WIthout any shame Hoseok strikes a peculiar pose that has Jungkook falling to the floor in laughter. “I could be an idol too, huh, Jimin-ssi?”

“Oh for sure,” Jimin agrees, own laughter bubbling up his throat. “I need to watch out, else you’ll be stealing all my magazine photoshoots in no time.”

With a booming laugh that Jimin is very certain brightens the entire room, Hoseok twirls one of his little pigtails around his finger. “Jungkookie, why don’t you go and collect your things?”

“‘Kay!” sing-songs the boy before he totters off into the room.

Jimin folds his arms about his chest, face soft as he watches Jungkook practically fall over himself in excitement collecting his things. ‘I go home with Jimin-hyung’ he tells every child who crosses his path, all of which return his excitement despite not really knowing what a Jimin-hyung is.

“Listen, Jimin,” Hoseok says in a soft voice that has all sorts of worry clawing at Jimin’s gut. He finds a serious expression across Hoseok’s features, mouth pulled into a thin line and eyes stealed from their usual liquid warmth. “Can I talk to you a moment?”

Not really wanting to hear whatever serious thing Hoseok has to offer him, but also knowing he can’t very well escape the kindergarten teacher, Jimin nods and follows Hoseok over to his desk in the corner of the room. There’s barely any children around here, probably because most of the toys have been strategically placed the furthest away from the teacher’s desk. 

Hoseok doesn’t sit, nor does he offer Jimin a chair, instead he lets Jimin stand with his back to the room and spins on his heels to square Jimin with that thin lipped expression. “I know you’re a great guy,” he begins and Jimin feels like he’s about to go through a break up of some kind. “And I know you’re really trying to do right by Jungkook and I am very appreciative of that,” he adds. “I also know Yoongi has set some things in motion to help get Jungkook in a better home situation and you’re all on board for helping with that, of which the school and myself are again, very grateful.” 

Jimin nods, curt. “It’s the least I could do.”

Hoseok hums, not so much in approval and not so much in disapproval either, but more so in quiet contemplation. He looks at his feet, then back to Jimin. “Forgive me for being intrusive here, but, have you ever thought about how Jungkook might handle being taken away from here and losing his contact with you and Yoongi?”

Jimin licks at his dry lips. “What do you mean?”

Hoseok looks wholly uncomfortable, running his hand down the back of his neck and letting a long sigh past his lips. “I do so hate being the bad guy, but you’re spending a lot of time with Jungkook and the boy is growing incredibly attached to you.”

“And?” Jimin asks, brow pinched. “Is that a bad thing? Don’t we all want Jungkook to have better caregivers in his life?” 

“Oh no of course we do, that’s not what I mean at all,” Hoseok reassured. “It’s just,” a sigh. “It’s natural for children to grow attachments to people that show them comfort and safety.” He stops, eyes watching something on the other side of the room. Jimin follows the teacher's gaze and finds Jungkook trying to shove an A3 sized dinosaur book in his little A4 sized book bag. It has Jimin soft with endearment. 

“However,” sighs Hoseok, bringin Jimin’s attention back to him. “In cases with children such as Jungkook, who have experienced bad relationships with adults and the world around them, they tend to grow a stronger attachment to those who do offer them a comforting and stable person to care for them.”

Shuffling from one foot to the other, Jimin furrows his brow further. “I still don’t…”

“What happens when you’re gone?” Hoseok asks bluntly, eyes boring into Jimin’s very soul.

“Who says I’m going anywhere?” Jimin counters, utterly stunned. He’s not like Jungkook’s parents, he wouldn’t just leave him outside that awful apartment and then never see him again. Jimin cares . He cares more for that little boy than he thinks he’s ever cared for another being before. Besides of course his husband. How dare Jung Hoseok suggest such a thing? Jimin would never, could never, abandon Jungkook.

Hoseok sighs, body folding in half in concerne as he leans against his desk. “I’m not saying that you are, or that you will. It’s just, well, what if the people who know best decide to take Jungkook far away from here? Then what?”

“I’d go see him, obviously,” Jimin replies without missing a beat. 

“But what if they decide it’s best if Jungkook has no contact with the life he had here to help him move on from whatever trauma he incurred here? How do you think either of you will handle that?” Hoseok asks, persistent like a fly. 

Jimin folds his arms defensively about his chest. “Are you trying to tell me to stop seeing Jungkook? To stop trying to make him happy? To stop caring ?”

“I’m not saying that at all,” Hoseok is quick to placate. “It’s just, I’m very well trained in all things kids and Yoongi has made it very clear that the two of you aren’t all that ready to have children let alone be the ones to offer a home for Jungkook. So inevitably the two of you are going to be separated from him one day soon, and I worry how Jungkook will handle that, how you will handle that.”

For the first time in a long time, Jimin feels utterly lost for words. He hadn’t thought about this. Had never even entertained the thought that Jungkook could be taken away from him, from Yoongi, from whatever it is the three of them have. 

But that makes senses doesn’t it? He’s not Jungkook’s guardian, he’s not really anything to Jungkook other than a concerned husband of a teacher at Jungkook’s school. When the time comes to potentially relocate Jungkook to a better environment Jimin is the last person to be considered as having a claim to the boy that warranted visitations. 

When Yoongi’s connections finally decide what their course of action is for Jungkook, that’s when all involvement and opinions Jimin and he have over the boy become redundant. That’s when their little time playing house comes to an end. 

Selfishly, Jimin knows that this could be all kinds of traumatic for Jungkook who has probably never had anything close to what Yoongi and Jimin have been giving him. But Jimin feels a pit in his stomach at the thought of losing Jungkook. He’s not sure whether he could handle that loss either. 

“Just,” Hoseok begins, crossing his ankles and resting his hands against the desk. “Think about what you’re going to say to Jungkook when the time comes for you to actually part. And perhaps start preparing yourself for that time too. Sometimes, it’s best not to get yourself too attached. Especially if you don’t plan on actually giving Jungkook the home that you’re teasing him with.”

It feels like Jimin has been stabbed in the heart. Guilt churns in his gut like a poison, flooding his veins and making his arms and legs feel like jelly. 

“Hyung hyung ,” Jungkook calls, tugging at Jimin’s shirt. When did he get here? “We go get cat-seonsaengnim?” his voice is small; pitched with worry.   

It takes a moment for Jimin to shake his darker feelings from his face, but he does his best to squish any negativity as far down in his gut as possible. Then he leans down to Jungkook’s level to fix the coat he had rushed to pull over his arms and is currently sititing wonky on his shoulders. “Yeah,” he says, smile as big and bright as he can manage. “We can go to the park if you want?”

“Park!” Jungkook exclaims, face much brighter. “Can Kookie play on the slide?”

“You can play on whatever you want,” Jimin is quick to agree, standing to his feet and taking Jungkook’s book bag from him. “How many dogs do you think we’ll see today?”

Jungkook thinks for a moment before holding up 4 fingers. “1, 2, 3, 4 many,” he says and Jimin chuckles taking the boy’s little hand in his own. “Good job,” he praises.

The two of them leave the kindergarten classroom without saying goodbye to Hoseok and Jimin feels as though he’s clinging onto Jungkook’s hand for dear life. 

____________

“Well of course we’ll have to give this all up,” Yoongi says, toes planted in the dirt as he slowly pushes himself in little circles on the swing. He can hear Jungkook’s laughter from the other side of the park and it steals Yoongi’s attention away from his husband. Jungkook has made friends with some older kids who have decided that the climbing frame is their fort and the floor around it is lava they cannot touch. 

They’re incredibly gentle with Jungkook as he stumbles and tumbles around the climbing frame far less nimble than the big kids that have taken him under their wing. They hold his hand across the wobbly bridge and they piggyback him up the slide so that he doesn’t trip and hurt himself. 

“Kookie, look out for pirates,” one of the kids calls out to Jungkook. 

Jungkook scrunches his face into a cute little serious expression before turning to look out at the park, little hand held above his eyes for a better view. “Yo ho yo ho,” he sings loudly, almost like a warning. 

“Are we not good for Jungkook?” Jimin asks in a small voice.

Yoongi’s neck snaps with the force he turns back to his husband. “Of course we’re good for Jungkook,” he’s quick to promise. “Where on earth did you get the notion that we aren’t?”

Jimin shrugs. “I just assumed that because we’re offering him something good and comforting and safe that we’d still get to be in his life.”

“Just because we’ve offered Jungkook support when he’s stuck in a bad situation doesn’t mean that we have the right to be in his life forever,” Yoongi says. “It’s selfish to think that, we’re not offering him an actual home, we’re offering him a taste of what he could have.”

Silence returns Yoongi’s words. His husband is sat on the swing next to him, hands clenched so tightly around the chains of the swing that his arms are shaking with the effort. His back is bowed, head lowered, and face crumpled in what Yoongi can only describe as confused pain. 

He’s swift to leave his own swing, kneeling in the dirt in front of his husband regardless of the fact he’s just dirtied his last clean trousers of the week. His hands are steady as they cup Jimin’s cheeks, pulling his husband’s face up to look at him. 

“Love,” he whispers gently. “You’re incredible, do you know that?”

There are tears glistening in the corner of Jimin’s eyes as they widen from Yoongi’s words. “W—what, why are you—“ 

But Yoongi hushes him gently, catching the tears before they can fall. “Your heart is golden, Park Jimin. It’s too big for your rib cage and too beautiful for anyone to really appreciate. What you’ve done for Jungkook so far, what you’re still doing for him, is so selfless and so incredible. He’s very lucky that you were the one who found him in the office that day.”

Jimin is sniffling back more tears, swallowing down sobs as the gravity of the situation they have found themselves in pushes heavy on his shoulders. Yoongi knew that this was coming. Knew that Jimin was too caught up in Jungkook to see passed the boy in front of him. Yoongi’s a teacher, he knows when to emotionally distance himself from a situation whilst still invest the right amount of emotions into a child. And although he has grown to love Jungkook far more than he has any other child that has come into his care, Yoongi still knows the time they have together is ephemeral. 

Despite how sad or how empty he knows their life will be in the wake of Jungkook’s absence, Yoongi still knows how to pick himself up and carry on. But his wonderful and caring husband isn’t the type to be able to just let go of anything easily, let alone a sweet little boy who has burrowed himself a home in their hearts. 

“Just remember that we’re doing this for Jungkook,” Yoongi adds softly. “You want what’s best for him right?”

“I do, I do but—“ Jimin mumbles, whine of confusion in his voice. 

Yoongi hums, he knows his husband better than he knows himself. “What do you think is best for him, Jimin?” he asks. “Because I think perhaps you’re not actually sure what is best for Jungkook and that’s why this has upset you.”

Now Jimin looks even more confused than before. His face is swollen and red from tears he had tried so very hard to keep at bay. “Whatever makes him happiest, safest and loved,” Jimin replies as if that is the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s not all that confusing, Yoongi, I know that’s what’s best for him.”

“Yes,” Yoongi agrees, standing to his feet. “But what will make Jungkook the happiest, safest and loved?”

His husband’s mouth opens and closes like fish as words form in his mind and then die on his tongue. Yoongi doesn’t need an answer now, doesn’t think it’s right to demand it from Jimin too soon, but at least he’s planted the right type of thinking in Jimin’s mind. Clearly his husband has been too hyper focused on giving Jungkook happiness that he hasn’t come to realise just how fleeting a happiness it is he’s been offering. 

He’s also failed to realise that the happiness, safety and love that Jungkook wants is from Jimin and Yoongi and no one else. Part of Yoongi is beginning to think that on some level Jimin knows that he would be wholly unhappy if anyone else were to take in Jungkook, but he’s stubbornly not addressing that for fear of realising he’s more ready to be a parent than he thinks he is.

Yoongi accepted that truth from the moment he saw Jungkook waiting in the office for a parent that would never come for him.

“Hyungies,” Jungkook calls, voice timid and concerned. Jimin is quick to scrub at his face and Yoongi turns speedily on his heels to hide the sadness that clings to his husband from the impressionable little boy.

“Hello little one,” he greets with a warm smile on his face that has tension melting away from Jungkook’s shoulders. “Are you finished playing?”

His hands fiddle with Cooky, teeth worrying into his bottom lip. “Big kids go home,” he explains. “They say, say I go home too.”

“If you want to play more you can,” Yoongi reassures.

But Jungkook shakes his head. “No talking to strangers,” he whispers, turning back to look at the climbing frame. Yoongi follows his line of sight and for a moment he sees nothing but an empty playground. But then he sees movement from the main pavement that runs along the outside of the park. Dark figures shift in the shadows of the setting sun and Yoongi reaches out for Jungkook on instinct, tucking him behind himself. 

“What’s wrong?” Jimin asks, slinking up next to Yoongi, ruffling Jungkook’s hair reassuringly. But as soon as Jimin is standing beside him, Yoongi’s eyes are assaulted by bright camera flashes from the other side of the park that has him jumping out of his skin in surprise.

“Shit,” Yoongi mumbles, pushing Jimin behind himself too.

Jimin looks beyond irritated. “How in the hell did they find me here?”

“Honestly, love, they’d be able to find you even if you were the size of an ant,” Yoongi huffs, subtly pushing the two of them towards the exit on the other side of the park. 

“We can’t get a taxi,” Jimin whispers, reaching down to pick up Jungkook. He sits the boy against his hip and hides his head against his neck. Jungkook is very uncharacteristically still, squishing himself as close to Jimin as possible, almost as though he can hide himself away in Jimin’s arms. “And I can’t call my manager as they’ll just send a car.”

Yoongi nods, the flashes of the camera don’t stop but thankfully they don’t get any closer to them. “Taehyung’s apartment isn’t far from here, we’ll just walk fast and not look back.”

With a nod of agreement, Jimin starts making his way to the exit, whispering reassuring words to a very worried Jungkook. “Just keep your head down for me, okay Kookie?” he says, softly running his fingers through Jungkook’s hair.

Yoongi is quick to follow after them, hearing the horrible sound of camera shutters growing distant the further they get away. They’ve never been so relaxed about paparazzi before and Yoongi mentally kicks himself for not taking something so violating into account whilst Jungkook is in their care. 

“Hyung,” Jungkook whispers against the lapel of Jimin’s coat. “Why are they taking pictures of us?”

In the ridiculousness of it all, Yoongi lets out a little chuckle. “Well, to get technical with you kid,” he starts, flashing Jungkook a megawatt smile that has the boy’s whole body relaxing just a little. “The guy you’re currently clinging to is Park Jimin .”

That has a laugh tumbling it’s way out of Jimin’s lips. 

“And Park Jimin is a singer,” Yoongi continues, breath ragged from how fast their feet are thumping against the ground to get away. “An ar ti st , ” he adds with a chef's kiss for emphasis that has Jimin exploding in laughter. His laughter is so contagious that it has Jungkook smiling even though he very clearly has no idea what it is Yoongi is trying to explain to him. 

His large brown eyes look from Jimin to Yoongi. “And what about you?” he asks.

“Me?” Yoongi replies, still chuckling. “Well, this hyung has so many talents I don’t even know where to begin.” Again the explanation does nothing in easing Jungkook’s confusion, but at least Jimin is laughing wholly carefree and there’s no sign of fear on Jungkook’s face anymore. 

Chapter Text

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: selling pictures

Saw your little family outing shots all over Naver.

How much do you think the pictures of us from college will go for? 

Obviously far less than if Jimin were to be in them because you’re only famous by association. But surely I could make some kind of lucrative business out of you?

If you’re down to pose for some tastefully nude shots I’ll split the profits with you 90/10, the 10% for you, of course.

Jin.

P.S. by any chance was Jungkook born under a different family name?

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: RE selling pictures.

I’m so glad to know that throughout our many years of friendship you have finally found a means in which to profit from it. Get that check, Queen.

But back to the actually important matter at hand. I asked Taehyung and he said that when he first met Jungkook, he introduced himself as Im Jungkook before he broke down in tears and repeated Jeon over and over again. 

Do you have any updates for me?

Yoongi.

P.S. considering you’ve been to our house numerous times, why haven’t you tried to sell some of Jimin’s things if you’re that desperate to profit off of your friends? 

Ammature. 

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: RE selling pictures

Firstly: I’m an opportunist not a freak. I’m not the one to take clippings of Jimin’s hair from his used hairbrush in the bottom draw of your bathroom cupboards and sell them to the highest bidder on Gmarket. That shit only really goes for like 500,000won and I’m out here thinking bigger than that.

Secondly: Jimin is a fucking sweet heart and knwo that I know him so well I wouldn’t invalidate his privacy like that again. You on the other hand, I feel no guilt using. 

Back to Jungkook, however, I’m struggling to find records of a Jeon Jungkook other than what we already know. It’s like before they moved to Seoul he never existed. His father, on the other hand, is a Seoul native with a history of struggling to hold down a job. He married his current wife last year and the two were placed on a waitlist for government accommodation and aid as soon as their marriage papers were filed. 

They weren’t very high up on the list as Jeon-ssi did have a job at the time and his wife was providing evidence of her job hunting and there were people in far worse situations out there than that. The two have no relatives to live with and were subsequently living in a house share situation. 

According to government records though, they managed to shoot right to the top of the list last January and were awarded a small 2 bedroom apartment.

Honestly things seem incredibly fishy, but I will continue to keep digging. 

Jin.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: RE selling pictures.

Don’t think I’m going to let the fact you actually DID try to sell my husband’s hair online for fast cash go so easily.

I will end you.

I have a gun in my bag.

Sleep with one eye open, Kim.

P.S. Thanks for your hard work, we really appreciate it. Let me know if you have any other updates.

___________

“Park Jimin, you are so incredibly lucky that the photos were shit enough to hide that kids face,” scolds his manager down the phone. “You know that you need to tell us if you’re thinking about adopting so we can get NDAs written up for all parties involved in the process and—“

With a sigh, Jimin kicks at a small rock resting by his feet. “You’re making this sound like I’m not actually allowed to have a family. Everyone knows I’m married and eventually one day we’re going to have kids, I’m fairly certain all my fans are okay with that and if they’re not I don’t particularly want them as fans.”

“Of course you’re allowed to have a family, we’re not in charge of your life!” exclaims his manager, words tumbling over themselves. “It’s just we need to know things before you do them so we can take the right measures to protect you and Yoongi and the child.”

Jimin struggles to believe that, face twisting in disgust. His manager is a good person, he’s always been as accommodating as possible for Jimin even though demands from higher ups often make that difficult. But he also knows that his manager is contracted under Jimin’s label and not Jimin himself. So when push comes to shove he has to force the company's narrative over what Jimin wants. 

“Listen,” Jimin begins, spotting a mother and daughter animatedly walking by as they head home for the day. The mother spots him hiding behind one of the bushes by the front entrance and offers him a shy, red blushed wave. Jimin smiles back before turning away from them and lowering his voice. “Stick to the narrative that I’ve been volunteering at my husband’s school more recently and keep Jungkook’s name out of the media at all costs. Kid’s been through enough as it is without all this crap adding to his worries.”

A sigh replies down the phone. “That’s what we’re doing. But some of your fans are fucking detectives, Jimin. We cannot promise that this Jungkook kid won’t be kept out of the limelight. But we’ll do our best.”

“Thank you,” Jimin sighs, tired. “That’s all I can ask for.”

“Look, Jimin, be real with me here,” asks his manager, softer this time, tentatively.  “Is this just some kid you’re helping out with at Yoongi’s school? Or is it more than that?”

Jimin swallows. “I—“ he begins before groaning and running his hand through his hair. 

“It’s okay,” replies his manager and he genuinely seems to care despite the shit Jimin has gotten them both into. “Just promise me when you figure it all out, I’m the first you tell, okay?” 

“Y-yeah,” Jimin replies, voice a whoosh of worried breath. “I promise.”

Neither of them say goodbye before the call is dropped and Jimin finds his hand shaking around his phone as he lowers it from his ear. 

This is so much more complicated than he ever thought it could be.

And if he’s being honest to himself, he’s really not sure what the right course of action to take here is. Is there even a right course of action? Jimin still vehemently believes that placing Jungkook in his and Yoongi’s care permanently is still not the best for him. The whole paparazzi incident is proof of that. Jungkook shouldn’t be subjected to growing up in the spotlight, all his demons and fears laid bare for the public to pick apart as they please. 

But who’s to say that anyone else that Jungkook is placed with is going to give him the right life either? It’s not like Jimin can do a thorough interrogation of the potential guardians himself nor can he just drop in for unexpected visits to check that everything is going well. He’s not a social worker and both Hoseok and Yoongi have made it very clear that Jimin has little to no claim over this boy once he’s been placed in a better situation. 

Jimin is just struggling to think of who could possibly be good enough to look after Jungkook if he’s not seeing to the boy’s wellbeing himself. 

He swallows thickly, pocketing his phone  and taking two deep breaths to steady his nerves. Yoongi had suggested that perhaps it would be better if Jimin came and saw Jungkook after school but the three of them stopped walking Jungkook to Taehyung’s apartment. It’s obvious that paparazzi will be poised and ready around the school grounds to snap more cute shots of the three of them playing family, and the last thing they want is for Jungkook’s pictures to end up clearer in newspapers and tick off his parents in some way. 

When he’s feeling a bit calmer, Jimin saunters into the office and finds Jungkook looking very incredibly serious as he sits on the couch with Yoongi.

“Everything okay?” Jimin greets, debating whether he should be concerned or not. 

But there’s mirth playing around his husband’s lips. “Peachy,” he says, placing a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. “Do you want me to wait outside while you talk to Jimin-hyung?”

Jungkook purses his lips and fiddles with the worn pink rabbit in his hands. “That would be best,” he says in his best grown up voice that has Yoongi biting back a coo. 

“Okay then,” Yoongi nods, slapping his hands on his thighs before he jumps to his feet. “I’ll be waiting,” he adds, stealing a quick kiss to Jimin’s pouting lips before slipping out of the office doors. 

Jimin turns his attention down to Jungkook who’s little legs are swinging off the side of the sofa, feet unable to touch the ground. He kneels down to Jungkook’s level and tilts his head to catch the boy’s big brown eyes. “What did you want to talk about, sweetie?” he asks. 

“Jimin-hyung,” Jungkook starts and his tone is far too serious for a three year old. It’s somewhat cute to see Jungkook trying his hardest to act like an adult. “I know your secret.” 

Confused, Jimin hums. “Okay, and what secret is that?”

Looking left and then looking right to make sure that no one else is in the office, Jungkook leans in close to whisper ever so gently: “I know who you are.”

“Oh?” Jimin whispers back just as gently, hiding both their faces behind his palm. “And who am I?” 

“You’re Park Jimin ,” explains Jungkoook. “And Park Jimin is famous .”

Jimin has to bite down incredibly hard on his bottom lip to stop himself from laughing. “That’s right,” he agrees with a nod. Jungkook mirrors his nod and leans back from Jimin’s space looking very much like a judge considering a verdict. Clearly some of the parents have been taking more notice into the fact Jimin has been hanging around school and their kids have relayed to Jungkook the fact he’s hanging around someone famous . “Do you know what famous means, Jungkookie?”

Nodding, Jungkook lets Cooky fall to his lap and reaches both of his little paws up to rest against Jimin’s cheeks. There’s a stealed seriousness in Jungkook’s eyes, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed. “Famous means people take pictures,” he explains with a sharp nod. It has his long curly locks flopping into his eyes. “The pictures go in the magazine,” he adds.

Jimin can’t hold back his laughter this time, reaching up to grab Jungkook’s little hands from his face. He pulls them away from his cheeks and kisses across Jungkook’s little knuckles. “You really are a very smart boy, Kookie.”

Jungkook hums in agreement, a proud smile on his face. “Kookie not a baby.”

“No you are definitely not,” Jimin agrees. “But being famous also means that everybody knows who I am. That’s why they want to take pictures of us, baby, they always want to know what I’m doing because I am everyone’s friend.”

The boy’s mouth drops open into an O shape. “That’s many friends,” he comments.

Jimin nods. “It is, it’s too many friends, actually, and sadly I can’t make time for everyone. So they put the pictures in magazines so all the friends can keep up with me and no one is left out.” 

“Like when we make a homework card for Eunji because she’s not here?” Jungkook asks. 

“That’s right, you make the homework card so she doesn’t miss out, right?” Jungkook nods and Jimin smiles. “People take pictures of famous people so that their friends don’t miss out, too,” Jimin explains further. 

For a moment, Jungkook cocks his head to one side and contemplates something, bottom lip stuck out in a concentrated pout. “But, but,” he finally says. “Jung-seonsangnim says that sometimes friends don't want to play so we have to ask first. The friends yesterday don’t ask.”

“No, they didn’t,” Jimin replies, a proud smile on his lips. “But being famous means that they don’t have to ask.”

Jungkook pouts. “That’s not very nice,” he concludes. “When friends aren’t nice they need time out.”

Chuckling, Jimin pulls the boy into a tight hug and feels so much of his anxiety and worry bleed from his muscles. “It’s not very nice, you’re right, but it’s the price we pay for fame.”

“No more famous,” Jungkook mumbles into Jimin’s shoulder. “Jimin-hyung has Kookie, Kookie is good friend, right?”

“Kookie’s the bestest friend ever,” Jimin agrees, holding him a little tighter. 

And it’s moments like this that Jimin realises that perhaps everything is actually very simple after all.

___________

“And why are we not going to a hair salon for this?” Yoongi asks with high levels of adult concerne in his voice that makes him wonder when in the hell he got stuck babysitting one actual child and two man-children.

Jimin waves a dismissive hand in Yoongi’s direction. “It’s fine, Taehyung says he used to cut his little brother’s hair all the time.” Yoongi struggles to see how that is comforting in the slightest. “Besides, Jungkook wanted us to be here too and we can’t very well take him to a hair salon right now .”

The pictures from the park flash through Yoongi’s mind and send a harsh shiver down his spine. They really had been very lucky. Yoongi dreads to think what would have happened to Jungkook if he was more noticeable in those pictures. Yoongi has found over the years that the media tend to blur the faces of children stuck in limelight from famous parents. But who’s to stop someone who knows Jungkook personally -- like his parents -- recognising his clothes or the rabbit Jungkook always has clutched in his hands?

They know little to nothing about the temperament of Jungkook’s family, not for lack of trying. They’re lucky that Jungkook isn’t being physically hurt and they want more than anything not to push the boundaries that would warrant the awful excuses of parents to get physical with Jungkook. Yoongi has, thankfully, not been in many situations where students of his come from terrible homes with harmful parents, but he knows that kicking the hornet's nest when the child isn’t safe is the worst thing to do. And having a famous husband seems like a sure fire way to kick the hornet's nest. 

“Okay, good point,”says Yoongi with a begrudging sigh. He drops to a squat and levels a very excitable Jungkook with a serious look. “Are you sure you want Tae to cut your hair?” he asks, but already knows the answer before Jungkook is even replying.

“I look like Jimin-hyung,” squeals Jungkook, bouncing on the heels of his feet. “Kookie not famous. Jimin-hyung is famous because his hair makes everyone love him.”

As easy as the spring sun melts away at the winter cold, Yoongi can feel his adult concern bleeding from his bones. “Do you not just want a little bit cut off? Just enough so it’s out of your eyes?” Yoongi is soft as he asks, reaching out to run his fingers through Jungkook’s hair. He still has such sweet baby curls, bouncy as they flop around his forehead. They stick together in chunks half the time from sticky palms trying to push them from irritated eyes. 

Is Yoongi supposed to feel such a strong attachment to hair? And to the hair of a kid that isn’t his own?

Who is he fooling, Yoongi loves this boy a stupid, immesurable amout and that love grows with every giggle and smile and silly little word that comes out of Jungkook’s bunny toothed mouth. He loves every single hair on Jungkook’s sweet little head, and he dreads to see them be chopped away by Taehyung’s clumsy hands. 

Jungkook, the receptive child he is, cocks his head to one side and Yoongi can see a hint of worry around his eyes. “Yoobie-hyung,” he says, still unable to wrap his mouth around the proper syllables of Yoongi’s name. “I look like Jimin,” he says as if that explains everything.

Yoongi nods, smile gentle. “If that’s what you want.”

But Jungkook shakes his head, frustrated little huff puffing out of his mouth. He places both his chubby little hands on Yoongi’s cheeks and knocks their foreheads together. He stares into Yoongi’s eyes, big chocolate irises as reflective as the surface of the ocean. “Yoobie-hyung,” he says again, voice a serious whisper. “I look like Jimin-hyung,” he repeats, slower this time just as Hoseok does when the kindergartener’s aren’t quiet understanding something. “Yoobie-hyung likes Jimin-hyung.”

And then it dawns on Yoongi what Jungkook is trying to convey and he feels his whole heart stutter to a stop in his chest. He wraps his arms around the small boy before him and cradles him as close to his chest as he possibly can. It’s not often that Yoongi is the one showering Jungkook in tactile affection. Jimin is the King of tactile love, after all. So the soft little gasp of surprise that falls from Jungkook’s lips isn’t all that surprising to hear. It just has Yoongi tightening his grip, hands balling in the faded blue hoodie Jungkook is wearing that is several sizes too big for him.

“Do you want to know a secret?” Yoongi asks in as equal a serious whisper as Jungkook gave him. The boy doesn’t say anything as he nuzzles his nose into the juncture of Yoongi’s neck. But he does let out a little contented sigh and a small nod. “I love Jungkookie no matter what he looks like,” Yoongi whispers into the strands of Jungkook’s curly hair. “You’re perfect just the way you are.” 

He can feel Jimin’s hands come and rest on the small of his back. “You don’t have to change who you are for us to love you, baby. 

“I don’t?” comes a very small voice that’s slightly muffled into Yoongi’s skin.

“Of course not,” Jimin replies, voice not to be questioned. “If you change then you’re not Kookie anymore.”

“But if looking like Jimin-hyung is something that you want, not something you think you want, then it’s okay to look like Jimin-hyung too,” adds Yoongi. He lets out a little oof as his butt hits the kitchen floor. He curls his legs around Jungkook too, burrowing a home for the small boy in his chest. “You never have to please anyone by changing, never forget that.” 

Jungkook hums, nodding his head against Yoongi’s neck, little hands reaching up to clutch tightly at Yoongi’s T-shirt. “Never forget,” he parrots voice ever so quiet. For a while the three of them stay like that, Yoongi cradling a very boneless feeling Jungkook and Jimin stroking his hands soothing through the boy’s hair from where he’s squatting beside them. It’s so quiet in the kitchen that for a moment Yoongi wonders whether Jungkook has fallen asleep. But then Jungkook squirms in his hold and wriggles his way to look at Yoongi face to face.

“I no look like Jimin-hyung,” he finally decides before turning to look at Jimin. “I look like Kookie.”

With a wind chime pretty giggle, Jimin nods and hoists the boy up and out of Yoongi’s hold. Jungkook giggles as he’s swiftly maneuvered onto the rickety old chair Taehyung has placed in the middle of the kitchent. “We must ask the hairdresser for just a little off the ends, please ,” he explains.  

“Little off the ends, please,” Jungkook calls to Taehyung, voice melodic and smile back wide across his face.

Taehyung, who had been uncharacteristically quiet throughout that whole ordeal,reaches out to plug in a heavy duty looking buzz cutter that could have been first mass produced in the early 50s. “Sure thing, buddy,” he sings back, grinning like a madman. 

“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” Yoongi asks flatly, levelling Taehyung with a sharp look.

Taehyung chuckles as he places the device on the side and reaches for a comb instead. “I’m obviously feeding a cow.”

“Feed a cow!” mimics Jungkook before bursting into a high pitched squeal of laughter. The noise itself could have very well birthed the best of fairies, but right now Yoongi is too distracted by the fact Taehyung is operating dangerous machinery around his precious Jungkook.

“You cannot tell me to lighten up when you’re waving around electronic clippers like they’re Pom-poms,” Yoongi gasps, jumping to his feet to snatch up the device from the side. “What do you even need this for anyway? He only wants a little off the ends.”

“Little of the ends, please,” repeats Jungkook once more, looking oh so incredibly proud of himself.

“I know, I know,” Taehyung sighs, snatching the clippers back. “But he’s getting long in the back and the clippers are better equipped at getting it neat.”

“It sounds like you’re going to give a three year old an undercut,” Yoongi criticises. 

With a roll of his eyes, Taehyung pushes Yoongi out of his space. “I’m not going to do that,” he reassures, but it doesn’t sound all that reassuring to Yoongi. “Because it’s not what Jungkook wants, right buddy?” he asks the boy.

Jungkook beams up at his babysitter, the crown of his head thumping against the back of the chair. “A little off the ends, please!” He bellows. 

Giggling, Jimin grabs a once white towel from off the kitchen table and tucks it around Jungkook’s neck. The towel has been so heavily stained in hair dye that it’s now a gross concoction of different shades of brown. “You gotta be very still though, okay baby?” says his husband. “Like a statue.”

“Gotta be still,” Jungkook copies, stiffening in his chair, smile still wide across his face. 

“That’s my boy,” Jimin praises, placing a soft kiss to the tip of Jungkook’s nose. Yoongi’s not sure when Jimin had started calling Jungkook by sweet little pet names, but it’s come very naturally to his overly affectionate husband. Jungkook preens everytime Jimin calls him baby, despite the boy continuously telling everyone that he is in fact not a baby.

It’s been three weeks since Yoongi had first spoken to Seokjin and although the boy’s parents have been avoiding all house visits and calls that the elder has sprung on them, Jungkook seems to smile more often than he cries. He looks lighter, in fact Yoongi thinks they all do just a little, and so long as things aren’t getting worse then they must be moving in the right direction. 

Jimin plops himself on the floor right in front of Jungkook and just smiles up at the boy as he excitedly waits for Taehyung to start cutting his hair. Yoongi wonders if Jimin can see the change in himself the way Yoongi can see it. His husband has grown so beautifully over the last few weeks, body and mind moving in a wholly different way to how he used to. 

Yoongi feels as though he’s watching Jimin orbit around the sun with the way he cares for Jungkook. His confidence has changed too. Not that Jimin hasn’t always been incredibly confident in himself, what with his line of work and all. But he no longer cradles Jungkook like the boy is made from the most delicate materials on earth.

It’s instinctive, the way Jimin moves around Jungkook, the way he now knows just the right thing to say without looking to Yoongi for silent help. Something has clearly blossomed within Jimin, a quality sprouting forth that his husband always assumed he didn’t have. It’s honestly the proudest Yoongi has ever been of Jimin, and he’s been fortunate enough to watch Jimin receive accolades and awards in all shapes and sizes. 

He just hopes that Jimin can see this growth and this ability within himself. Because it’s all very well having Yoongi point it out and praise him for it, but his husband is a stubborn man who won’t accept praise he doesn't feel he deserves. 

“Do you want me to look after Cooky for you so he doesn’t get all hairy?” Jimin offers, hand outstretched. 

Jungkook nods, hands shuffling under the towel that’s wrapped around him. Eventually a hand holding the little pink rabbit emerges from the towel and Jimin carefully takes the little friend. 

“I”ll take good care of him,” Jimin promises looking down at the worn keychain. “You love him very much, huh?”

Taehyung tilts Jungkook’s head up and straight. “Don’t move, buddy.”

“‘Kay,” Jungkook sings, legs swinging in the chair. 

Jimin reaches out to still the boy’s legs. “Like a statue, remember?” Jungkook nods and straightens his back. “Good boy,” Jimin praises before looking down at the toy again. There’s a spritzing noise of Taehyung spraying misted water over Jungkook’s head that has the younger giggling just a little bit. 

But Yoongi is preoccupied with watching his husband to fully appreciate the boy’s happiness. There’s a contemplative look on Jimin’s face as he runs his fingers over the little pink toy. Bottom lip worried in his teeth.

“Kookie,” Jimin asks softly after a while of peaceful quiet. “Who gave you Cooky?”

There’s a hum from Jungkook as he thinks, eyebrows knitted together. “The lady did,” he finally says. “The pretty lady with the nice eyes. She cries a lot, but she has nice hugs.”

Yoongi stiffens where he stands, eyes glued to his ever empathetic husband. 

“Do you remember the lady’s name?” Jimin asks.

Jungkook shrugs. “I think I did,” he says. “But she’s gone now.”

“Where did she go?” asks Jimin once more. 

“Away,” replies Jungkook, concentrating too hard on staying still to really focus on what he’s saying. “Far away. Forever.”

Jimin’s hand tightens around Cooky and holds the toy close to his chest. “I bet she hasn’t really gone too far,” he mutters, but Jungkook isn’t listening, already giggling at the feeling of his hair being chopped off his head. 

With a gentle hand, Yoongi reaches out to rest reassurance on his husband’s shoulder. He crouches down besides Jimin and rests his forehead against his love’s temple. “He’s better now, and things will keep getting better, too.”

“I hope so,” Jimin whispers back, leaning heavily into Yoongi’s side. 

___________

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: an update

Im Jungkook was born to Im Yeona in Busan three years ago, a child born to a one night stand. With the father out of the picture and no family support for a young mother, Im Yeona worked numerous jobs to keep them both afloat. 

Sadly, two years ago she died in a traffic accident and Jungkook was placed into government care. Initially a ward of the state, however within the past year a birth certificate was found that indicated Jeon Hyunwoo as the boy’s father. 

The orphanage in charge of Jungkook reached out to Jeon-ssi multiple times but received no response. That was until the man suddenly appeared at the orphanage in February demanding the boy be released into his care and as the boy’s legal father, Jungkook was handed over without any concerns. 

HOWEVER.

Remember when I said something was fishy? Well, turns out one of the requirements to receive government accommodation and aid faster is to have a child under the age of 5. These assholes have basically taken Jungkook in to get a house. So I have made the executive decision to remove Jungkook from his current living situation and place him back in government care within Seoul whilst we deal with the finer details. That way he won’t be taken from his school environment and will still have support and access to his babysitter as well as Jimin and yourself.

Problem is, I have been to these fuckers’ house more times in the past month than I have my own house and heads are about to start rolling, let me tell you. They have refused to answer the door even though I can hear them moving around inside and they never answer their goddamn phones, either.

Unfortunately, I do not have the authority to storm the place and steal the child away, and we have to at least make some kind of contact with the family before we take the child from them, even if that means using police to do so. 

Things should be sorted out soon, I promise.

Jin.

P.S. Here’s a picture of Jungkook in the hospital with his mother, I thought the boy might want to see it.

<<picture attachment>>

Jungkook has his mothers large, glassy chocolate eyes and they share the same bunny tooth smile. She looks utterly exhausted as she holds a red, squishy faced baby in her arms. The blue blanket he’s cocooned in looks soft and wraps around the small baby’s body three times over. 

Im Yeona holds her son tightly in the crook of her arm and in her other hand she holds a small pink rabbit keychain, practically luminous in colour against the stark white and powder blue’s of the hospital room. 

____________

Jimin knows that things are going too well. 

He just knows that things are never this easy, never this smooth, and there’s a little doubt of worry flickering in the back of his mind like the starting embers of a campfire.

It doesn’t take long, however, for the little doubt of worry to become a small flame of concerne, when Yoongi calls him at lunch Tuesday afternoon and explains that Jungkook is out sick for the day.

“Did his father call the school?” Jimin asks.

“Taehyung had called the school,” Yoongi explains. “His father had messaged Taehyung the night before and asked him to call the school in the morning to explain Jungkook’s absence.”

God, the more Jimin heard about Jeon-ssi, the more he absolutely despised the man. “Nice to see Jeon-ssi was worried enough to inform Taehyung so he doesn’t have to pay him but not worried enough to explain to the school the situation himself.”

Yoongi replies with a deep, long sigh. “Well, we always knew he was a dick.”

“What did Taehyung say was wrong?” Jimin probs, turning his head so the MUA can fix his lipstick. 

“He didn’t , ” Yoongi supplies. “Said Jungkook’s dad didn’t tell him either.”

“Of fucking course he didn’t,” Jimin passive aggressively huffs. It causes his bangs to flutter about his forehead and the hairstylist grumbles, leaning over to fix it. “Should we, I dunno, send Taehyung round with soup or something?”

A long sigh echoes down the phone, so quiet Jimin can barely hear it over the excitable screams and laughter of children playing in the background. “I don’t think that’ll achieve very much,” Yoongi finally says, somewhat begrudgingly. Jimin can tell his husband is also trying very hard not to go against common sense and act on pure emotion alone, right now. “He should be back to school tomorrow, and if he’s not I’ll light a flame up Seokjin-hyung’s ass to send the entirety of Seoul’s police force round there.”

“Good plan,” Jimin agrees, uncrossing and then crossing his legs again. A voice calls for him in the distance, something about him being needed on set and Jimin lets out a long sigh. “I gotta go.”

“Okay, love,” Yoongi replies, voice soft and comforting. “I’ll meet you at home?”

Jimin hums. “Love you.”

“Love you most,” Yoongi says, but before Jimin can argue that, actually, he is the one that loves Yoongi the most, the call is dropped and Jimin is listening to the end call tone. 

The little mantra of he’ll be back tomorrow plays on loop in Jimin’s mind all day, pushing aside wonderful pictures that his brain supplies him of a sick Jungkook left to wallow in pain on his own in his bed whilst his dad fitfully ignores him.

He’s hopeful that things are going to be okay. He really, really is. 

But there’s a growing flame of doubt and concern that he just can’t shake. And by the third day of Jungkook being out sick, Jimin has eaten through three tubs of ice cream and Yoongi has bitten his nails down to stubs. 

They persuade Taehyung to pop round with some soup under the pretence of being a worried babysitter. Not that Taehyung needed much convincing, what with the constant bombardment of texts to Jimin’s phone asking if he could just go in and steal Jungkook away in the dead of night and providing a detailed plan of how he would get away with the crime. 

Aujung-ssi answered the door.

Took the soup, said thanks and not to worry.

Then shut the door in my face.

I didn’t get to see Jungkook at all.

“Fuck, Yoongi, I really don’t like this,” Jimin mutters, glaring down at Taehyung’s text.

His husband wraps his arms around Jimin’s waist, holding the younger in a tight back hug. “I'm sure it’s okay, Seokjin-hyung is heading round there again tomorrow with a couple of police officers. He’ll make sure Jungkook is okay.”

But Jimin whines, doubt niggling in the back of his head. “That’s all fine and great but I need to know what we can do? I can’t just sit around here and wait. I need to be there, I need to see him, I need to know without a fathom of a doubt that he’s okay.”

“I know, I know,” Yoongi placates. “So do I. But there’s nothing we can do. Unfortunately we’re pretty powerless right now.”

“What if he’s so sick he needs a doctor and those poor excuses of parents aren’t bothering to bring him to one?” asks Jimin and his voice is boarding on hysterical. “What if, god fucking forbid, he’s knocking at deaths door and we’re not there what if—“

Yoongi is quick to spin Jimin to face him, cupping his face and hushing him gently. “Stop that, you’re not helping anyone with that kind of talk. Take a deep breath,” he demands, voice resolute and not to be messed with. Yoongi is always the best in an emergency, alway as cool as a cucumber no matter how terrifying the situation gets. Snapping his eyes shut, Jimin listens to his husband, taking three deep breaths and letting them out slowly. “What we’re not going to do is lose our composure. We have to be ready for when Jungkook needs us, after all. We need to have a clear head and we need to put him before ourselves. Worrying and working ourselves up into a panic is not what Jungkook needs right now.”

Taking another deep breath and letting it out even slower than the first three, Jimin finally sags in his husband’s grip, nodding in agreement. “Okay, you’re right. We have to stay calm.”

“Come here,” Yoongi mutters softly, pulling Jimin into his chest. Jimin goes willingly, needing all the tactile support he can right now. “I'm not going to lie to you, I’m terrified too. I want Jungkook here in our care so I know he’s getting the right kind of attention. But he’s not, and we can’t snatch him away from his legal guardians and risk a jail sentence. Then who will be there for him?”

Jimin sighs, inhaling that sweet scent of cinnamon and musk that clings to Yoongi’s clothes. “Taehyung said he would take Jungkook,” he mumbles into Yoongi’s chest.

“I’d let hell freeze over before I’d let Taehyung take in Jungkook,” Yoongi scoffs. Jimin isn’t sure how he’s able to laugh right now, but he does, and it has his body relaxing just a little bit. “Jungkook either comes with us or, or— well, there’s no other options I’d be happy with to be honest.”

Wait. 

What?

“You still want him?” Jimin mutters, brain running a mile a minute. They had decided they weren’t going to be the ones to take in Jungkook. They had decided they weren’t ready for that. They had a plan .

Yoongi stiffens around Jimin. “I'm being dramatic,” replies his husband, cautious as ever.

Pushing himself out of Yoongi’s grasp, Jimin finds himself putting as much distance between the two of them that the kitchen can afford. “That’s not answering my question,” says Jimin, staring his husband down.

The man looks sheepish and tired, hand running through his raven black locks. “What do you want me to say here, Jimin?”

“The truth,” comes Jimin’s reply, fists balled as his sides. “That’s all I ever want you to say.” There’s a heavy kind of silence that hangs between them, so thick it rings in Jimin’s ears. “Yoongi?”

With a deep breath, Yoongi levels his husband with a no nonsense look. “I’ve never stopped wanting Jungkook. Every time that boy smiles at us and every time I see happiness across his face my love for him grows bigger. He belongs with us, he’s ours and you know that too, don’t you?”

“I told you, we’re not right for him,” Jimin is quick to argue. “He deserves more than being the son of an idol that can never be there for him and will have his whole life laid bare on the front page of Naver.”

“Jimin, you are more than an idol,” Yoongi counters. “Do you honestly not see how much you have grown and adapted to be there for Jungkook over the past few weeks? Are you blind to how much Jungkook has blossomed under your care? Or are you just being ignorant?” 

Jimin turns from his husband and storms out of the kitchen. “That’s different,” he spits over his shoulder.

“How is that different?” Yoongi shouts, following hot on Jimin’s heels. “Stop running away from this, you’re better than that, Park Jimin.”

“I‘m not running. I’m being practical,” bites back Jimin. “Something of which you’re clearly not doing because your heart is always so easily softened by children in any and all capacity.”

There’s a loud frustrated growl from Yoongi and Jimin turns on his heels to find such a heatedly angry look blistered across his husband’s usually soft features. Jimin can’t remember the last time he’s been on the receiving end of Yoongi’s anger. Maybe back when they were younger and in the early days of their relationship. Jimin remembers that they used to fight every now and then, it was usually over misunderstandings that were easy to get over, though. 

But this wasn’t just a simple misunderstanding.

Jimin glares at his husband. “Did you just growl at me?” he demands.

“Not at you specifically,” Yoongi snaps. “Just at this situation in general.”

WIth a scoff, Jimin starts fluffing the pillows on the couch, hands itching to do something other than ball unhelpfully at his side. “There’s no need to growl, you’re not a dog.”

“I'm frustrated, here, Jimin,” Yoongi tries to reason, but his voice is as sharp as a knife and it has Jimin flinching. “I love you so fucking much and it destroys me to see you sabotaging yourself like this. And to be completely honest with you, it’s sabotaging Jungkook’s happiness too.” 

Jimin looks utterly repulsed at his husband, feeling a flame of anger licking at his gut. “And how am I sabotaging both Jungkook and myself, huh?” asks Jimin, karate chopping one of the pillows so hard the noise echoes around the expanse of their living room.

“By denying what you both want just because of self doubt,” supplies Yoongi, voice so loud it echoes back to Jimin’s ears and he has to listen to those words more than once.

They rattle around in Jimin’s head causing his hands to still and his eyes to blow as wide as the moon. “Wh—“

But Yoongi doesn’t give him a second to reply, storming over to Jimin and holding his face so carefully in his hands despite the rage that is charging between the pair of them. “Any child, any person, in fact, would be so lucky to have you in their lives, Jimin. And I know this first hand because I thank god and the heavens every morning I get to wake up and call you mine. Sometimes I look at you and honestly struggle to comprehend how fucking lucky I am that you bless my life every day. What did I do to deserve you I will never know but I will forever be thankful for it. You are perfect and caring and want nothing more than to be the one to look after Jungkook for the rest of his life despite the fact you force yourself to believe that you’re not worthy enough.”

There’s something twisting it’s way around Jimin’s neck, blocking his air and his words. His chest feels so tight that he can feel his heart fluttering like a hummingbird in his rib cage. 

Yoongi chuckles, emotions at their height, palms shaking against Jimin’s heated cheeks. “Love, you’re already that boy’s father and you haven’t even realised it.”

“N-no I—“

Gently, oh so gently, Yoongi hushes him, thumbs swiping under Jimin’s eyes and catching tears that Jimin hadn’t even realised had been falling. “Yes, love, yes,” Yoongi counters. “You joke that we’re playing house but what you’ve yet to realise is that you’ve wholeheartedly accepted being a father and Jungkook has wholeheartedly accepted being ours. And at the end of the day, love, that’s the only reassurance you need to know to see that you are right for Jungkook. We are right for Jungkook. He wants us, why should we deny him that?” 

And just like that, sobs and tears erupt into the room like a dam has just burst. Jimin’s knees give out and Yoongi is there to catch him as he falls. He cradles Jimin close to his chest as he cries, hushing him and pressing words of love and reassurance into his skin. 

They stay there for hours, Yoongi holding Jimin so tight as if the moment he lets go Jimin will crumble into tiny little pieces. He’s thankful that Yoongi does though, thankful that his husband is so solid and so supportive that he's able to see the things that Jimin purposefully turns a blind eye to. 

Because Yoongi is right, he’s so so right.

Jimin wants to be Jungkook’s father so fucking much, he craves it more than the air that he breathes. He wants to shower love and warmth all over that boy until he forgets what it's like to be sad, what it’s like to be forgotten about and neglected. 

He wants to make sure that Jungkook never knows anything other than happiness for the resto f his life.

And he’s finally ready to accept that there will be no one in this world good enough for Jeon Jungkook than Yoongi and himself. 

____________

“Yoongi?” Seokjin calls down the phone, voice breathless. “They’re gone.”

Yoongi’s blood runs cold. “What do you mean they’re gone?”

“I mean there’s no one here. The apartment has been abandoned and the landlord says that they won’t be coming back,” Seokjin explains. “They’ve taken Jungkook with them, Yoongi, they’ve taken him.”

Chapter Text

There is not a single trace of the Jeon’s left in Seoul and Jimin has never felt so frantic in his entire life. 

The school received a call from Jeon-ssi not long before Seokjin had reported the whole family missing. Jean-ssi had explained that his wife was expecting a baby and the whole family had decided to move back to her hometown to be closer to her family during the pregnancy. 

“Which is bullshit,” seethes Seokjin, pacing the length of the principal's office, running his tongue across his teeth. “Because we all know that neither Aujung-ssi nor Jeon-ssi have any family and the pair of them were born and raised in Seoul.”

The principal, a short stout man with a ring of hair around a glistening bald top, sighs, rests his elbows on his desk, and interlocks his chubby fingers. “Kim-ssi, I understand the situation is difficult but you should do your best to keep your professionalism.”

Seokjin shoots the man a look of pure acidic hate and the whole room sinks just a little in their chairs in fear. The principal is quick to lower his eyes, and Seokjin clicks his tongue in annoyance. “They knew we were trying to get ahold of them, they knew they were in big shit and yet they were still dumb enough to call the school. That has to help us in some way, right?”

“Maybe,” supplied a very weary looking Hoseok. Jimin cannot begin to imagine how he managed to keep up his kindergarten teacher facade all day whilst knowing Jungkook was missing. “Can’t we trace their phone?” 

Seokjin, who is well on his way to burning a pathway in the carpet of the principal’s office clicks his tongue again. “The police have already informed me that they can only do that whilst the caller is still on the phone. And before you ask if they can search the number, the family used a cell phone which is registered to the address we already know of, so that’s useless too.” 

Sinking in on himself, Hoseok lowers his head like a kicked puppy.

“In any case, there is nothing we can do right now other than help the police in their investigation,” the principle explains, voice calm. “Park-seonsaengnim, considering your emotional involvement with Jeon Jungkook, perhaps it would be wise if you took some time off.”

Yoongi, who has been incredibly uncharacteristically quiet since the moment Seokjin had called them earlier that day, doesn’t even bother to protest. His head is hung on his shoulders, eyes smashed against the heels of his palms and Jimin wishes more than anything he could reach out and console his big hearted husband. But Jimin’s whole body is currently going through shock. His hands shake no matter how tightly he digs his nails into his palms to get them to stop. His head is spinning, his mouth is so dry, and his heart keeps leaping up into his throat, almost as though he’s teetering on the edge of a high thin ledge unsure if he’s about to fall.

“Yeah, I think that’s best,” comes Seokjin’s reply, and how did he get over to them so fast? He squats in front of both Yoongi and himself, hands resting on Jimin’s knees and levels him with an empathetic smile. “Have you called your company, Jimin?” 

It takes a little while for Seokjin’s words to settle into his brain, but eventually Jimin brings himself to shake his head. His comeback is next week, everyone has been running around like headless chickens for months now and he’s been working his ass off for this even longer than that. He’s scared to call them. Absolutely terrified . Because they won’t understand and they won’t care that Jimin just cannot put on a public smile and go through an entire comeback when Jungkook is missing .

There his heart goes again. Leaping into his mouth as his feet slip over the ledge he’s been shoved on. His voice squeaks, his chest feels as though it’s been filled with lead and suddenly there are tears streaming down his face. There’s something trapped in his throat. Stopping air from reaching his lungs and everything burns burns burns . 

“Head between your legs,” Seokjin is quick to order, gently patting on Jimin’s back in an attempt to get him to breathe. “Don’t think about anything else other than taking a nice deep breath in and letting it out slowly.”

Jimin wants to scream, wants to claw at his throat and open it up himself. But he can’t. His head feels so dizzy, his blood is ringing in his ears… where is Yoongi? Why can’t he feel him? 

There’s another voice calling out to him, is that Hoseok? They feel so far away. There’s cotton clogging Jimin’s ears and his tears sting his eyes something nasty. And just when he feels like he’s about to pass out, like his lungs will never be able to take another breath again, he feels long calloused fingers tangle themselves through his own and lips press into his temple.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” says Yoongi and his voice echoes through Jimin’s ears as though he’s trapped at the very back of a cave and Yoongi is looking for him. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he repeats again and Jimin can feel his words vibrate through Yoongi’s chest as it presses against Jimin’s shoulder. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” 

Yoongi’s chest rises and falls so evenly, and Jimin scrambles to focus on it, to mirror his own breath with his husband, squeezing his hands around Yoongi’s just to feel something other than hopelessness. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay.”

Slowly, ever so slowly, Jimin can hear the sounds of the room clearer again; can hear his haggard breathing ripping through his burning chest; can hear Seokjin shushing him ever so gently and he can hear the ominous tick tick ticking of the stupidly large clock on the wall above the principal’s desk. 

“Fetch some water will you?” said principal calls out to the room and Jimin can hear the shuffling of feet and the door opening and closing. 

“We’ll find him,” adds Yoongi, pulling Jimin tighter against his chest now that he’s breathing normally again. “We’ll find him.”  

“Yes we will,” Seokjin agrees voice so assured it eases Jimin’s mind just a little. “Give me your phone I’ll call your company.”

Jimin groans.”M-my comeback…” he says and his voice sounds gravelly and abused. 

It makes him flinch. 

But Seokjin simply titters and reaches into Jimin’s pocket to pull his phone out for himself. “You’re not in the right place for a comeback right now, Jimin, I’ll make them see that, don’t worry.” 

Jimin wants to say thank you, but his throat feels all scratchy and dry and his arms are trembling even more than they were before. 

Seokjin offers him a kind smile and a shoulder squeeze. “No need to thank me, not now, not ever,” he says, because he always knows what Jimin wants to say. Could read both Yoongi and Jimin like a book from the moment they met. “We’ve always got your back.”   

___________

By the second day of Jungkook’s disappearance, Taehyung takes to flashing the boy’s picture in the faces of every passerby in Seoul, too jittery to just sit around and wait when he feels like he can be doing something. He brings food round to the Park’s apartment three times a day and forces both Yoongi and Jimin to sit at the kitchen table and eat something, even if it’s just a few mouthfuls. His stream of babbling falls like white noise on Jimin’s ears and he’s unable to comprehend anything that Taehyung is sharing with them. But Jimin is at least thankful that Taehyung is trying to keep him and Yoongi whole right now. 

When Seokjin isn’t shouting at the police or the school or poor Namjoon who has taken to chaperoning their hyung in the hopes to keep his outbursts at bay, he sits on their couch and drinks a bottle of wine through a straw. His heart is fueled by loyalty and righteousness, a fierce need to protect and fight for all he loves and cares about. He’s always the one to get things done. Always the one to keep everyone in line, too. And considering Yoongi is currently far from himself, Seokjin’s organisation and drive is something Jimin is clinging to more so than ever. 

Namjoon, on the other hand, has always been a gentle and wise soul. Jimin likes to think of him as an old oak in the middle of a green forest just filled to the brim with life and love. He hovers around Yoongi, eyes large and sad as he watches his best friend of ten years slowly crumble into a shadow of the man he really is. 

“Did you sleep today, hyung?” Namjoon will ask and Yoongi will look at him with unseeing eyes before turning back to glare at the phone. Jimin can see the worry etched into Namjoon’s gentle face and it makes him feel sick. 

With every ticking second, Jimin watches his husband crack like a china plate under pressure. Yoongi’s hair is unruly from the way his hands have been pulling at it in worry. His eyes are bloodshot after an entire night just sitting by the phone and shooting coffee to keep himself awake. He’s bitten so many of his nails so short that he’s drawn blood too many times to count and he's barely spoken more than a few words to anyone. 

And when it’s just the two of them left in their apartment at the end of the day, Jimin can feel his support system crumbling around him and he’s not sure what he can do about it. His hands never let go of Yoongi’s, the two of them gripping to each other for dear life, knowing that it’s the only thing keeping them from completely losing their minds.

“Maybe we should put his face out on the news?” Jimin offers, voice so timid it’s nothing but an echo of what it usually is. 

But Yoongi shakes his head, eyes never once leaving the phone. “We can’t risk it,” is all he says, voice so low and broken that it chips off another bit of Jimin’s already fractured heart. 

His grip tightens around Yoongi’s hand. “Would it not help if more than just us and a few police officers are looking for him? What if someone has seen him?”

“What if they recognise him from those photos from the park?” Yoongi cuts in. “What if people then look to take him for themselves to get some money out of us? What then?”

“I don’t--” Jimin stutters, his eyes feel wet, why is it all he can do is cry so pathetically?

Yoongi huffs, eyebrows furrowing. “Exactly,” his voice is sharp, it hurts to hear. “We let the police do what they’re good at and we wait.”

The air feels thin. “I can’t just sit here, I can’t just do nothing , Yoongi, I’m not doing enough I--”

“We’ve done enough,” snaps back Yoongi, irritated and lost and it stabs right into Jimin’s gut. “We did what we thought was right and now look where we are. Best to just shut up and wait for people who know what they’re doing to do whatever the fuck it is they think is best.” 

Jimin snatches his hand from Yoongi’s grasp and practically jumps out of the chair he’s sat on like he’s been burnt. Yoongi’s hand doesn’t chase after him, his body doesn’t turn towards him and Jimin can see his husband falling further and further into a black hole Jimin is terrified of losing him into. 

“Look at me,” Jimin calls, voice shaking. But Yoongi doesn’t turn, his body curling in on itself ever so slightly. “Look at me!” Jimin shouts again, his voice pitched on hysteria. This time, Yoongi somewhat reluctantly turns to Jimin and his eyes are flat, lifeless and lost. On instinct Jimin reaches out for Yoongi, hands cradling his wonderful husband’s face, cursed with worry and lack of sleep. The bags under his eyes are so dark, his lips so dry and cracked and his skin is a ghostly pale. “I need you, Yoongi, I need you , please don’t do this, don’t curl in on yourself, I need you.”

Yoongi’s mouth falls open and close as though he’s catching flies, words forming in his mind he’s struggling to say. 

“I know this is hard, I know you’re blaming yourself, I know you’re struggling, we all are. But we cannot shut ourselves off on our own, we have to do this together. I can’t lose Jungkook and you. Please, please , just keep talking to me, keep holding me, keep being here . We need you here ,” the hysteria in Jimin’s voice is pitched so high that his words shake and tumble as they fall from his mouth. His hands tremble around Yoongi’s cold face, eyes imploringly searching for any remains of his husband that could be left in them.

Because Yoongi’s heart is the size of the universe and of course, of course, he’s blaming himself for all that’s happening. Of course he’s spiraling into guilt, fear and self loathing as sharp as nails clawing at his chest. Because Yoongi loves with his whole being. Because Yoongi cares for all those he loves silently and fiercely, tucking away all the bad for himself to bare alone so as not to bring sadness to others. 

“I’m here,” Jimin breathes. His eyes sting with tears, his mouth burns with words that hurt to say. “I’m always here.” Jimin’s breath stutters and he tries his hardest to swallow down the sobbs bubbling up his throat. “You’re always the rock, the pillar, but you know that with us the support goes both ways. I need you to lean on me, too. I need you to talk to me, I need you to stay here, with me, ready for our boy to come home. Because he will come home and we will be a family. But if you lose yourself right now then that will never happen.”

He can feel Yoongi’s body flinching under his touch, hears the soft whimper that escape’s his husband's dry mouth and Jimin’s chest squeezes so tight it's suffocating. 

Inhaling as deep a breath as he can and wincing through the burn of it, Jimin closes his eyes and presses his forehead against Yoongi’s. “You did nothing wrong,” he whispers. “No one is to blame for this other than those poor excuses for parents. You did nothing wrong, this isn’t your fault. Please, please , believe me--” 

And then Jimin feels something wet collecting around his fingers and his eyes snap open to see tears falling like a waterfall down his husband’s pale cheeks. His body shakes with silent sobs, his eyes so glassy Jimin can see his own worried reflection staring back at him. 

Jimin cannot remember the last time Yoongi cried.

But here he is, a broken man unloading everything he has been locking away in his chest for the last few days, possibly longer. Jimin pulls Yoongi closer to him, lips pressing chaste kisses into wet cheeks, across dry lips and over damp eyes. He pushes reassurance and support and love and understanding into every press of his lips, hoping that it’s enough of an antivenom to drive the poison out. 

“J-Jimin,” Yoongi’s voice croaks, hands shaking as he reaches out for Jimin. Immediately Jimin is pulling Yoongi into his chest, holding his head against the crook of his neck and running his fingers through the unwashed and unruly raven black locks of his hair. He holds Yoongi tight, tighter than he’s ever held his husband before, keeping him together as best he can. Yoongi shudders with silent sobs in his hold, rubbing his wet face into the base of Jimin’s neck, wanting nothing more than to burrow himself away in the safety of everything Jimin . 

“It’s okay, remember? It’s going to be okay,” Jimin reassures, echoing the mantra Yoongi had repeated to him back in the principal's office. “It’s okay.”

Yoongi whimpers, fingers clawing at Jimin’s top, desperation the last sign of a man on the verge of breaking. “I’m scared,” he breathes, his confession causing Jimin to hold him that much tighter. 

“I know,” replies Jimin, voice small. “Me too.” His words hold little comfort, the reality of everything hanging ominously in the room. Yoongi curls up even smaller against Jimin’s chest, another whimper echoing through his chest. “But it’s going to be okay. It has to be. Because the moment we lose hope is the moment we lose everything. So we have to keep believing that it’s going to be alright. We have to.” 

Yoongi says nothing, no agreement, no disagreement, he simply cries into Jimin’s chest.

____________  

The next morning, Jimin is awoken to the sound of the phone ringing in the living room. He bolts from their bedroom and in a desperate panic of hope shouts his greetings down the phone. It’s not the news he wants to hear, however. It’s the police explaining that they have made the executive decision to get Jungkook’s face out into the media. 

“We’re drawing up blank on a lot of leads,” comes the voice of the D.I. assigned to their case. “We gain fresh eyes by alerting the public.”

Jimin, however, can only remember Yoongi’s worries from the night before. “We--” he coughs, swallowing down the lump in his throat. “There are pictures of the three of us, Jungkook’s face isn’t all that obvious, but it’s also not unreasonable to think that people might put two and two together…”

There’s an understanding hum down the phone. “Typically with cases involving children from high profile families, the children are returned unscathed after a ransom of some kind is paid.”

Jimin huffs. “I’m not concerned over a ransome, I’d pay every penny I own to get Jungkook back. I worry over those select few nut jobs out there. Some of my fans have a habit of hunting me like a prized fucking tiger and I cannot begin to imagine what they might be willing to do--” he stops, biting down harshly on his bottom lip. 

There’s a heavy duty sigh from the other end of the phone. “I think it might be a good option to liaison with your company. They’re equipped to keep these rabid fans of yours at bay as best they can, am I right? Their involvement might make you feel a little more at ease, hm?” 

Not really. Jimin hasn’t spoken to his company since Seokjin had called them to cancel the comeback and he’s not all that certain he really still has a job with them. Money makes the world go round and Jimin isn’t making them all the money he’s supposed to be right now, in fact he’s probably just losing them money. To be honest, Jimin wouldn’t want to bother with him anymore either, especially considering his flakey track record as of late. 

They’d probably throw him to the wolves and tell him to deal with it himself. 

“Mr. Park?” calls the detective, and Jimin shakes his head to clear it just a little bit.

“Yes, I’m here,” he replies, breathless and timid. “W-would it be possible if I made contact myself first? I’d rather it be me who reaches out and then my company reaches out to you than the police just calling them on my behalf.” 

There’s a pause, the D.I. clearly mulling over Jimin’s request. “Okay, ” he finally concedes. “But we need to take action no later than this evening.”

“I understand,” Jimin replies. “I’ll call immediately.”

“Very well,” sighs the D.I., he sounds so overworked. “We’ll call if there are any updates.”

Jimin nods. “Thank you,” he says before placing the phone back on the hook. 

He’s not given a moment to process what just happened before Yoongi’s voice breaks through the eerie silence of their home and scares the life out of him. “Who was that?” he asks. Jimin spins on his heels, feeling as though his heart could break through his chest. The terror must be as clear as day on his face as Yoongi is marching across the room to take up Jimin’s hands in his own. “What happened? What’s going on?”

With a shake of his head and a small reassuring squeeze to Yoongi’s hand, Jimin lets out a little sigh. “You just scared me is all,” he explains.

Yoongi’s body relaxes. “Oh,” he mutters. “Sorry.”

“That was the police,” Jimin explains, pushing unruly bed hair away from Yoongi’s red rimmed eyes. He hadn’t wanted to wake his husband so early. After crying himself to sleep last night, Yoongi had needed at least somewhat of a good night's sleep in order to help pick himself back up off the ground. “You should get some more sleep,” Jimin comments, fingers gently dusting over the bags under his eyes. 

With a shake of his head, Yoongi reaches for Jimin’s fingers and presses gentle kiss to the tips of them. “What did the police say?” 

“Th-they want to get the media involved,” Jimin explains and Yoongi’s eyes narrow. “They said they’d be willing to work with my company and figure out the best route to go about things.” 

Groaning, Yoongi flops into the chairs they have set up by the phone. “I don’t think making Jungkook known to the public is the best route in general.” 

Agreeing, Jimin sits besides his husband and pulls his hand into his lap. “We always said we’d keep our children private until they’re old enough to make their own decisions in regards to fame by association. But our plan is useless now. Jungkook is missing and someone out there could know something about it.” 

“I know, it’s just,” Yoongi sighs, head hung between his shoulders. “Seokjin’s right, the Jeon’s are dumb, why is this proving so hard to find him?” 

“I don’t know,” Jimin whispers. “But every second we wait is a second we waste.” 

The silence of their apartment is beginning to feel like a third member of their household. It ecompases everything, heavy and thick and unavoidable no matter how much the chill of it terrifies Jimin. 

“Maybe we should call Seokjin and get his opinion?” Jimin offers, seeing just how stumped for words Yoongi is. His husband nods, fingers trembling as they tighten around Jimin’s. With his spare hand he reaches for his cell, wanting to keep their home line clear in case the police need to call them. 

Seokjin picks up on the first ring, explains that he’s already halfway to their apartment before Jimin can even ask him to come round, and then hangs up without a goodbye. Jimin can just about hear Namjoon in the background belittling Seokjin’s serious lack of phone manners, and he’s fairly certain Seokjin scolds the younger with a: ‘manners went out the window long ago Namjoon, get with the programme’ that is just so inherently Seokjin, before the phone went dead.

And true to Seokjin’s word, not more than 10 minutes later, both he and Namjoon are barreling into their apartment and making themselves at home. A sight they’re very much used to, but are usually far less broken and exhausted than they are right now.

“To be fair,” Namjoon begins after Jimin recounts the conversation he had with the police. “They should have gotten his face out to the public within the first 24 hours of his disappearance.” He hands both Jimin and Yoongi a mug of coffee that will probably taste like dirt, but the pair of them take the mugs with quiet thanks on their lips. 

Namjoon smiles sweetly at them, happy to have been some help to them, before sitting himself on the carpet to continue reading through Seokjin and Yoongi’s emails for the third time.

With a huff, Seokjin knocks his head back against the couch’s headrest. “But I can see why that didn’t happen, and I still think it’s probably a good idea to keep the connection between Jimin and Jungkook as private as possible.”

“Who’s to say that in releasing the information of Jungkook’s disappearance people will link back to Jimin at all?” Namjoon suggests, crossing his legs. 

Jimin narrows his eyes at his mug. “And who’s to say they won’t?” 

With a contemplative hum,  Namjoon turns back to his phone mouth pulled into a thin line.

“We must be missing something,” Seokjin sighs, pushing his hair away from his face. “How can a couple of idiots escape into Korea with a boy and leave no leads at all?”

“It’s not that we’re missing something, it’s that something’s not adding up,” Namjoon elaborates. “They clearly took in Jungkook because they could use him to get accommodation, right? So why would they move out of the place they tried so hard to get?”

“Cos they’re cunts,” Seokjin mutters unhelpfully through his teeth. “Where is that DI that’s meant to be helping us? Surely it’s his job to put shit together like this, not us?” Seokjin seethes, clearly needing to shout at someone. “I swear to god I’ll ring his neck if he’s decided to spend all day at his desk again instead of out looking for a missing child .” 

“Why would they move?” Namjoon repeats, more so to himself. “Unless they were offered something better than what they already had? But what conditions would they need in order to get better accommodation?”

Yoongi gasps, causing every person in the room to snap their head over to him with fear etched deeply onto their faces. Jimin squeezes Yoongi’s hand, eyebrows knitting together. “Love, everything okay?” he asks. But Yoongi simply gasps again,  jumping to his feet and practically pulling Jimin up with him through their tightly interlocked fingers. The mug of coffee in Yoongi’s hand slips to the floor to shatter at Jimin’s feet and the sound rings shrilly around the room. 

Yoongi’s eyes are wide and bloodshot, like a crazed man who’s been found after years alone on a deserted island. The whole room waits with their breath held, waits for Yoongi to say whatever it is he wants to say, and Jimin can feel anticipation claw at his back.

“She’s pregnant,” Yoongi finally says, and his voice is a weak whisper of what it usually is. “She’s pregnant. And pregnant women are priority number one when it comes to government aid, right?” he asks, pleading to everyone in the room that he’s right. 

Seokjin swears under his breath. “Fuckers.”

“No, but wait,” Namjoon adds, dropping his phone in his haste to stand to his feet. “This is perfect for them, then, isn’t it? They needed a kid to get accommodation and so begrudgingly took Jungkook in because it’s easy. But now that the wife is pregnant, what need do they have for Jungkook anymore?” 

“They don’t,” Seokjin replies, pulling his phone from his pocket. “They dumped him back in an orphanage.” He grumbles as he presses his phone to his ear. “Why in the fuck didn’t we think of this sooner, what fucking good are the police?” 

They dumped him at an orphanage? 

But how many orphanages are in Seoul? How many are in the entire country? Which one would they leave him at? Would they even care to drop him back at the one they found him at? Would they be bothered to drive him all the way back to Busan? Obviously not if they only ever saw Jungkook himself as a bother to their lives, they’d dump him at the first orphanage they saw once leaving their apartment for their new lives and …

And suddenly, Jimin can feel hope blooming in his chest again. His breath catches in his throat and before he can even think straight, he’s up out of his chair and letting his feet carry him towards the front door.

“Jimin!” Yoongi calls after him. “Jimin, wait!”

But Jimin can’t wait, not when he knows there’s a possibility that Jungkook is okay and safe and nearby . He can’t wait. Not when that light at the end of the tunnel is so close he can almost reach it. 

Yoongi catches up to him just as Jimin barrels his way out of the front door to their apartment, slipping his fingers through Jimin’s own. “Where are you going?”

“To find Jungkook,” Jimin snaps, stabbing his finger against the elevator button. 

Yoongi tugs on his hand. “Seokjin-hyung is calling around and—“

“They’re dumb Yoongi, the Jeons are stupid. They wanted to get rid of Jungkook as quickly as possible,” he explains, everything piecing together in his head but unable to form coherently out of his mouth.

The elevator doors open quicker than usual and Jimin sends a little prayer of thanks to whatever higher being is listening. “Love, I need you to calm down, please ,” Yoongi begs as Jimin pulls him into the elevator. 

“I am calm, Yoongi, I know where Jungkook is and I’m not going to spend another two days watching Seokjin call every orphanage in Korea before finding the right one.” The doors shut and Jimin repeatedly stabs the button for the lobby over and over and over again, hoping it makes the thing go faster. 

But Yoongi tugs Jimin’s hand away from the button before it breaks and spins Jimin around to level his husband with a wide eyed look. “You know where our boy is?” he asks with desperation lacing his voice.

Jimin reaches out to cup his husband’s face in his hands. He’s so warm, face blushed in exhaustion. “They wouldn’t have bothered to take him to some place further than necessary, they would have dumped him at the closest orphanage to their apartment and be done with it.”

The elevator doors ping open to the lobby but the two of them stay where they are, passing unspoken words to each other as slow realisation dawns across Yoongi’s face. 

He gasps, the third gasp of the day, and then yanks Jimin out of the elevator. “We’ll take a taxi, neither of us should be driving right now,” he says, sounding more like himself than he has done over the past few days.

____________

“There’s no Jeon Jungkook here,” says the head of the orphanage, a stout woman around Jimin’s height with dark hair scraped back in a tight bun. Her horn rimmed glasses are black and jewelled and sit low on her nose. Her long spider-like fingers thumb through a pile of documents on her desk and her tongue swipes along her thin pink lips. 

It feels like Jimin could throw up his own heart. “Really? You’re sure?” he begs, feeling his bottom lip wobble and his eyes glass over. “Can you check again?” He’s gripping Yoongi’s hands so tightly that his nails are digging into his husband’s poor abused hands. 

The woman looks wholly unamused, eyes narrowing until they’re just judgemental slits. “Are you questioning my capability at running my own establishment?” she asks flatly. “Of course I know of every child that lives under my roof.”

Jimin cannot find it in himself to feel bad or guilty under the woman’s scrutiny. The floodgates burst and he turns to bury his face in Yoongi’s shoulder, wanting nothing more than to hit rock bottom and blubber like a baby in the face of this awful woman. That light at the end of the tunnel is flickering, growing feint and Jimin feels like he’s grasping at thin air. 

He’s losing hope, he’s losing his mind, he’s losing his baby. 

“Lee-ssi,” Yoongi begins, voice wobbling and lacking the usual calm to it. “We’re sorry if we’re coming across rude, we’ve been looking for Jungkook for days now, we’re at our wits end with worry and we just want to find him, please understand we’re desperate here.” 

Jimin can just imagine how judgemental the woman must be looking. Her sharp features piercing like knives through Yoongi’s skin. Jimin can practically taste her distaste in his mouth as his tears run down his cheeks and drip off his chin. 

FInally, there’s an exasperated sigh. “A few days ago we did take in an Im Jungkook, if that helps you in anyway?”

Jimin snaps his neck so fast it twinges. “Yes, yes, that’s him, that has to be him.”

“Could we please see him, please ?” Yoongi begs, leaning so far forward in his seat he almost falls off of it. 

The woman doesn’t spare them a glance as she scrolls through her phone, tapping away at it and sniffing like she smells something bad. “Why should I allow you to see him?”

It’s like the words have been punched into Jimin’s gut, his brain turning to angry mush as he practically breaks all the bone’s in Yoongi’s hand from where he’s squeezing so tight. 

Why should he be allowed to see Jungkook?

“Because he’s our son and I want to take him home,” Jimin snaps. “Because he’s our son and we love him and we want to take him home, please .” 

Another judgemental silence fills the office and a cold breeze shivers it’s way down Jimin’s back. 

But eventually the woman sighs once more, presses a button on her phone and then places it to her ear. “Hello, could you bring Jungkook down to my office please? Thank you,” she says before she hangs up. “He’ll be with us shortly.”

Jimin feels relief wash over his body like a bucket of cold water being dumped over him on a hot day. He catches Yoongi's eyes, sees a flicker of hope glisten in his dark irises and Jimin whispers a little prayer to anyone who is listening that the Jungkook heading to their office is their Jungkook. 

“I sympathise with you, I really do,” says the woman, drawing Jimin’s attention back to her. “You clearly care for the boy. But you must understand there are procedures in place that I have to follow. 

Quick to agree, Yoongi nods heartily. “I’m actually a teacher at Jungkook’s school,” he explains. “My husband and I noticed pretty quickly that his home life wasn’t the best and we were in the process of getting him placed permanently with us.”

The woman’s face doesn’t change, not a single wrinkle moving with any kind of emotion and Jimin wonders how someone so robotic could be placed in charge of such impressionable children.

“We had been trying to make contact with his legal guardians but they were avoiding us at all cost, and then they just upped and left and took Jungkook with them and we just--” Yoongi’s voice hiccups on a sob trapped in his throat. Jimin pulls their joined hands into his lap and runs a soothing finger over the backs of his husband’s knuckles. 

The woman hums, crossing her arms and resting them on her desk. “I see,” is all she says, lips pressed so thin they practically disappear. “Then I should warn you, the Jungkook that is coming to the office is a very scared and very traumatised little boy.”

There jimin is again. Teetering on the edge of that high ledge, feeling his heart crawl up his throat and his mind dizzy.

This shouldn’t have happened. Jimin should have risked jail and stormed the Jeons’ apartment to steal Jungkook away from them. When Jungkook had woken up the morning he had stayed the night Jimin should have refused to let him return to that shitty apartment and just kept him tucked away in safety.

He should have grown the fuck up and realised sooner that Jungkook’s home is with them and done everything he could, fought tooth and nail, to have the boy be legally apart of their family. 

He will never forgive himself for putting Jungkook through this. Jungkook looked up to him and relied on him to protect him and Jimin failed him. He failed him. 

As if reading his mind, Yoongi reaches out to knock their foreheads together and takes a deep breath. “It’s okay, love, it’s okay,” he whispers just for Jimin to hear. They both know it’s not okay, none of this is okay, but they also know that they’ve done all they can and they’ve done the right things despite everything blowing up in their faces. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Yoongi whispers again and Jimin wonders if it’s more for himself than for Jimin. 

With a heavy duty sigh, the woman pushes herself to her feet and rounds the desk. “He hasn’t said much since he arrived, nothing more than polite please and thank yous. He looks like a rabbit caught in a lions den and at night the other children can hear him crying.”

Jimin whimpers, curls in on himself tighter, can no longer feel Yoongi’s forehead against his own. There’s nothing but sorrow in his chest. “None of this should have happened,” he sobs. 

“I agree,” the woman replies. “I have seen my fair share of horrible cases in my day and never do they ever get easier to handle. Jungkook is a sweet boy, I can tell just by looking at him.”

Yoongi’s hands feel cold in Jimin’s grasp. “Did he say?” he asks. “His father, that is, did he say why he was bringing Jungkook here?” 

The woman makes a confused little noise and Jimin squeezes his eyes shut, not sure if he’s ready to hear whatever it is she’s about to say. “Father?” she finally asks, a pinch of scepticism in her voice. ”A woman dropped him here. Claimed they’d found him alone on the streets and couldn’t take him in as she was expecting.” 

For the first time since Jungkook went missing there’s anger boiling in Jimin’s veins. It mixes with his sorrow and tints his vision in red hues. His teeth gnash in his mouth, catching his tongue in a sharp pinch that he can taste blood in his mouth.

What sort of person…

No.

Jimin cannot begin to even fathom that any sort of human would be able to be so heartless, so cruel and so unwaveringly spiteful in the face of a scared child that just wants to be loved. And suddenly it’s not enough just for Jungkook to be returned to them. He needs to see some people pay for what they’ve done. 

He needs to see some heads roll.

Snapping his head up and swiping at his wet cheeks, Jimin pins the woman in front of him with a sharp narrow glare. Her clothing is equally as serious and straight laced as her expression. Her pallet choice a simple three shades of grey; a lighter for her blouse, a medium shade for her blazer and suit trousers and a dark shade for her shoes. There is not a thread out of place, her demeanour practically perfect in every way and Jimin’s sudden fury wants to throw a can of red paint over her. 

“Do you know where the woman went?” he asks, voice clipped. “Or have their contact information?”

If the woman is surprised by Jimin’s sudden 180 in attitude she doesn’t show it. Instead, her beady dark eyes snap to his face and her lips thin even more. “What would you do with their information if I did have it?” she asks, cautious. 

Yoongi squeezes at Jimin’s hand like he’s clinging on tightly to a balloon caught in a storm. “Technically they’ve committed fraud and we’d like to see some justice, for Jungkook’s sake.” 

“Naturally,” the woman replies, but her tone is still impassively neutral. “Have you taken the matter to the police?” 

“Of course,” Jimin spits.

The woman pays his hostility no mind. “Good,” she nods, folding her arms about her chest. “Then I am happy to aid them in their investigation in any way I can. If, of course, this is the Jungkook that you’re looking for.” 

Now more so than ever, Jimin is certain that this is in fact the right Jungkook, their Jungkook. It cannot just be a coincidence that a different boy carrying the same name as their own would show up at the closest orphanage to the Jeons’ house. Jimin is clinging on to his hope more so than he has over the last few days. He can practically feel the warmth from the light at the end of the tunnel and when he gets to it he plans to bottle it and keep it for the rest of his life. 

Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door that has both Jimin and Yoongi jumping to their feet like they’ve just been electrocuted. The door rattles as it opens and a young guy, tall and gangly, stands in the doorway with a child wrapped up in his arms. 

The guy’s eyes land on Jimin and blow the size of saucers at seeing a celebrity in the main office of his work. A breath of shock hisses through his lips before his mouth drops open in comic shock. “Holy shit,” he mutters, not even remotely ashamed that he just swore in front of a child. “You’re Park Jimin.”

At the sound of Jimin’s name, the boy in the man’s grasp removes his head from where he’s hidden it against the carer and Jimin finds his breath catching in his lungs. 

Because that’s Jungkook. That’s their Jungkook. Their boy. With his lamb curly hair cut wonkily across his forehead from where Taehyung hadn’t been as precise as he would have liked. And his little rabbit teeth buried into a red bitten bottom lip. And his beautiful big brown eyes that have lost every ounce of happiness and confidence they had been working so hard to build up in him. 

For a moment the room stands at a stagnant still . All Jimin can hear is his heart beat raging in his ears, the creaking of the old office door as it tries to close despite there being people in the way and Yoongi’s heavy breathing. The world is spinning him dizzy below his feet. His vision tunnels until all he can see is Jungkook. Sweet, wonderful, caring Jungkook who Jimin is ready to give the entire world too.

“Hi baby,” he whispers, voice small and distant to his own ears. Jungkook’s eyes grow impossibly wider, like he’s struggling to believe what he’s seeing. Like this is all just a dream and soon he’ll wake up back in his cold bed upstairs and still be alone...

And then Jungkook bursts into uncontrollable sobs. Little hands reach out for Jimin and Yoongi, pushing his way out of the carer’s grip like the man’s touch is burning. The tall gangly man looks as though he’s holding a freshly caught fish rather than a child as he struggles not to drop Jungkook. 

But it doesn’t matter. Because Yoongi and Jimin are on Jungkook in an instant, pulling the boy into their arms and hushing him softly. He clings to Jimin’s shirt, little fingers holding on so tight they could rip holes in the fabric. But Jimin doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about anything else other than the fact he can finally, finally , hold his family in his arms again.

Yoongi crowds the boy from behind, wrapping his arms around both Jungkook and Jimin, keeping the boy safe and protected from all sides. He presses kisses into the crown of Jungkook’s head whilst Jimin combes his fingers through the curly locks at the nape of Jungkook’s neck. 

“It’s okay baby, it’s okay,” Jimin says, repeating the little mantra they’ve created for themselves over the last few days. “You’re safe, you’re safe now.”

Yoongi manages to place a kiss on Jungkook's wet cheek. “We found you, and we’re never letting you go again.”  

Suddenly there are garbled words tumbling out of Jungkook’s lips mixed with sobs and screams of utter heartbreak. His whole body is shaking as he presses himself closer to Jimin’s chest. One hand eventually releases his grip of Jimin’s shirt only to flail it around, blindly reaching out for Yoongi. 

Yoongi takes up the small hand in his own and presses kisses onto the palm, hushing him gently as Jimin rocks him from side to side. “Oh little one, it’s okay. You cry and let it all out. We’ll still be here.” 

“We’ll always be here,” Jimin adds, pressing a kiss of his own onto Jungkook’s forehead. His emotions are boiling his skin and his hair sticks to his clammy forehead. “We love you, baby, we love you so, so much.” A sob catches itself in Jimin’s throat and he presses Jungkook even tighter against his chest. 

He vaguely registers both of the orphanage workers leaving to give them some privacy, but Jimin is too engrossed in the little boy in his arms to care. He’s never been more thankful to have Jungkook back where he can hold him, and he swears on pain of death that he will never ever let Jungkook go again.

The three of them stand wrapped up in each other for what feels like forever. Even after Jungkook’s wailing has settled to just a constant little sniffle. He’s tucked his face tight against the side of Jimin’s neck, snotty nose and wet face smearing across Jimin’s skin. 

Eventually, when Jungkook feels a little more calm, he chances a glance up at Jimin who beams down at the boy in his arms. “Hey baby,” he greets again. “Are you feeling a bit better?”

Silently Jungkook nods and Yoongi leans down to plant a gentle kiss on his cheek. “We’re sorry, little one,” he apologises softly. “Everything is going to be okay now.”

Jungkook looks unconvinced, betrayal written all over his face. 

It’s Jimin’s turn to reach down and kiss his little face again. “You’re going to come home with us, baby, we’re going to be your family and we’re never going to let you go, never ever ever.” 

“Never ever,” Jungkook parrots but his voice sounds flat.

“That’s right,” Yoongi praises. “My clever boy.”

For a moment, Jungkook just looks at them, eyes wet and big and dull and Jimin wishes more than anything he could take all the worry and pain from this little boy and refill him with happiness and love. 

Then he buries his face back into Jimin’s chest and hiccups out a few more tears that hadn’t fallen just yet. Clearly it’s going to take more than a few reassuring words to rebuild Jungkook’s broken trust. But Jimin is more than willing to spend the rest of their lives together working towards building Jungkook up. 

“Let’s go home,” Yoongi offers gently, taking Jimin’s free hand and tugging on it gently. “I think we could all do with a nap,” he suggests. “Does that sound good, little one?”

There’s a moment of silence where Jungkook is clearly thinking very incredibly hard. “Home?” he asks, voice still painfully flat.

“That’s right,” Jimin hums. “Yoongi and Jimin-hyung’s house, that’s our home, right?”

Another pause before Jungkook nods once again, a little uncertain. “Kookie too? Kookie come too?”

“Of course!” both Yoongi and Jimin chorus without missing a beat. 

“There’s nowhere else in the world you belong than with us, we’re a family,” Yoongi explains.

“Family,” Jungkook repeats, and it sounds as though he doesn’t trust the word just yet. 

Jimin plants another kiss on Jungkook's cheek. “Yoongi, Jimin and Jungkook: family.”

There’s a deep sigh that escapes Jungkook’s lips, too heavy for a little boy to be holding, but it seems to let some of his worry evaporate from his bones. “Home, please,” he whimpers, nuzzling tighter against Jimin’s shirt. 

“Home,” Yoongi agrees, and without another word he leads both Jimin and Jungkook out of the office. 

Chapter Text

Kookie has never had a room of his own before but he really likes it.

There’s a big bed and it’s soft and smells like flowers. Sometimes Cooky gets lost in the sheets but his hyungies always help Kookie find his friend again. 

Jiminie-hyungie put stars on the ceiling and they glow like real stars when it’s dark and the monsters are scared of the glowing stars but Kookie isn’t. The monsters are also scared of Yoobie-hyungie so he always keeps Kookie’s bedroom door open just in case the monsters cause any trouble. Then Yoobie-hyungie will come and sort them out. 

The monsters come a lot, you see. And Kookie’s not scared because he’s not a baby. He’s a big boy and big boys don’t get scared. But the monsters eat big boys and rabbits and go rawr when his hyungies aren’t around. And even though he likes his room with his big comfy bed that smells like flowers, it’s hard to get a good sleep when monsters are going rawr . 

There’s one place in the whole entire world that the monsters can never get him, though. But he doesn’t want to be a bother. Hyungie’s say they care about him very much and that means he is never a bother. 

But still Kookie worries .  

Adults say things they don’t mean sometimes. Jung- seonsaengnim says that’s called a white lie and it protects people and isn’t supposed to hurt. Kookie thinks they hurt though. Any kind of lying hurts. He doesn’t like lying, lying is very bad. 

The monsters like lying. They know all the lies and they always tell Kookie them over and over again until his head and his heart hurt. He doesn’t want to remember the lies. 

“We not listen,” Kookie whispers to Cooky, covering his bunny friend’s ears before hiding his head under the pillow. “If we not listen it not hurt.” 

Cooky agrees with him. Jung-seonsaengnim says words can never hurt you so Kookie just doesn’t listen to the monsters. They’re just monsters, they’re not real. They moved away, they left, they-- 

“Kookie,” whispers Jiminie-hyungie through the dark. Kookie likes Jimini-hyungie’s voice the best in the world. It always sounds like he’s singing and makes Kookie feel all gooey and happy. “Everything okay? You should be asleep, baby.” 

But there are still monsters and the monsters are only a little bit scared of Jiminie-hyungie because they’ve never really met before. Yoobie-hyungie is the one that always sorts them out, he always scares them away because Yoobie-hyungie is a monster hunter and he knows what to do to get them to stop. 

“Kookie not scared,” he tells Jiminie-hyungie because he needs to know that Kookie is a big boy. “Where’s Yoobie-hyungie?” 

Kookie thinks that maybe Yoobie-hyungie is magic because he appears out of thin air whenever Kookie needs him. Like the fairy godmother who turned Cinderella into the pumpkin so she could go to the party! 

Oh no, wait. Kookie is confused again. He gets confused sometimes because he’s still a growing boy and growing boys get confused. That’s what Jung-seonsaengnim says.

But anyway. Cinderella didn’t turn into a pumpkin. The pumpkin is the carriage and Cinderella has a pretty dress and they live happily ever after! 

Kookie likes the stories where they live happily ever after.

Someone sits on the edge of Kookie’s nice bed. “Are the monsters here again?” asks Yoobie-hyungie, and Kookie lets out a long sigh, happy that it’s not a monster on the bed.

Now that his Yoobie-hyungie is here, Kookie can come out from under the pillow. “They come back,” Kookie explains, crawling out from his covers and climbing into Yoobie-hyungie’s lap. “They say things,” he whispers, just loud enough for Yoobie-hyungie to hear. He doesn’t want the monsters to hear him being a tattle tale. 

Yoobie-hyungie gives him a big hug and Kookie feels warm. “What did they say?” he whispers back to Kookie. 

Kookie thinks for a minute. He listens carefully for the monsters because he knows they’re still here, somewhere . “Jiminie-hyungie, light please?” he asks. 

“Of course, baby,” Jiminie-hyungie says. The light hurts Kookie’s eyes, but just a little bit. “Do you feel better talking about what the monsters said when it’s brighter?”

Kookie hums. He thinks. “I don’t like talking about the monsters.”

Oh no. Jiminie-hyungie looks sad. He doesn’t want Jiminie-hyung to look sad. What if he doesn’t want Kookie to be here anymore because he’s always making everyone sad. What if he has to go back to the cold school that isn’t a home but children live there? What if-- 

“Hey now, hey,” Yoobie-hyungie says and his hug is very tight. “Let’s take a deep breath together, okay?” 

Kookie nods, his chest hurts. But he puts his hand against Yoobie-hyungie’s chest to feel the way it gets bigger and smaller. Kookie copies it with his own chest, but Yoobie-hyungie has very big breaths and Kookie is a little bit smaller than Yoobie-hyungie, so his breaths aren’t as big. But one day they’ll be even bigger than both his hyungie’s. 

“Better?” Jiminie-hyungie asks, his fingers are tickly up and down Kookie’s back and it makes him want to giggle. 

He nods. “Better,” he says, reaching out grabby hands for Jiminie-hyung. He always gives the best hugs. “Jiminie-hyungie no sad, right?”

Kookie is moved from Yoobie-hyungie’s lap and up into Jiminie-hyungie’s arms. “Why would I be sad?” asks Jiminie-hyung. 

“Because, because,” begins Kookie, placing a hand on Jiminie-hyungie’s cheek so that he can be extra specially sure Jiminie-hyungie isn’t sad. He’s good at playing pretend, Kookie has to be careful. “I make hyungie sad?” 

“Silly billy,” says Jiminie-hyungie. “You never make me sad.”

“Really really?” Kookie checks because adults sometimes tell a white lie. 

Jiminie-hyungie is nodding very very hard. “Promise,” he says and he links pinkies with Kookie as proof. You can never break a pinkie promise. 

Kookie didn’t know he was holding his breath but he lets it escape through his lips and he smiles. “No sad Jiminie-hyungie.”

“Would it be better if we all crawl into the big bed and you can tell us what the monsters said in there?” Yoobie-hyungie asks. “Remember? That’s the one place in the whole entire world that the monsters can never get you.” 

Kookie pouts. He’s worried. “I not a bother?”

“Never a bother,” Jiminie-hyungie says, because that’s what he always says so it can’t be a white lie right? You only say the white lie once, right?

“Never ever,” adds Yoobie-hyungie and he jumps to his feet and smacks a loud wet kiss right on Kookie’s cheek. It’s all slobbery and gross and it’s tickly and makes him giggle. So Yoobie-hyungie kisses him again on his other cheek and this time it’s even more tickly and slobbery and Kookie has to squeal in laughter to get his Yoobie-hyungie to stop. 

He likes when he gets kisses but not the gross tickly kisses . 

Those are for babies.

“Come on then, let’s get away from these monsters,” Jiminie-hyungie says. He carries Kookie to the room with the big bed and Kookie doesn’t hear a single monster on the way there. His hyungie’s really are the best. 

“Bye bye monsters!” he giggles, triumphant. 

Jiminie-hyungie smells like flowers, too. Even after the bath he smells like flowers. He always smells nice,  so Kookie really likes Jiminie-hyungie’s smell the best. It’s comforting! He thinks he might have smelt a comforting smell before, but it was a long long time ago so maybe he forgot it. 

The big bed is white and fluffy like a cloud and Jimine-hyungie likes to throw Kookie onto it so he can bounce on it like a trampoline. He likes bouncing on the big bed. It makes him giggle and when he’s giggling his head is only filled with happy things. 

Yoobie-hyungie is giggling too. He turns on the small light on the bedside table and then crawls onto the bed. “Quick, last one under the covers is a rotten egg!” 

“Hey, not fair, I’m not in my PJs yet!” Jiminie-hyungie whines.

“Too bad,” Yoobie-hyungie replies, pulling Kookie under the covers with him and cuddling him up close to his chest. Kookie feels extra specially warm when he’s getting Yoobie-hyungie cuddles in the big bed. “Jiminie-hyungie is a rotten egg.” 

Kookie laughs, clapping his hands. “Rotten egg!” he calls, and Jiminie-hyungie sticks out his tongue at him and that makes Kookie laugh even more. 

“Will you still love me if I’m a rotten egg?” he asks as he puts on his PJs.

“Of course!” cries Kookie and Yoobie-hyungie together, and it makes Jiminie-hyungie smile that big bright smile that makes his eyes smile too. Kookie likes it when Jiminie-hyungie smiles at him like that, it makes him feel like he’s done something good. “Then I don’t mind being a rotten egg,” he nods.

Then he turns the light off and crawls under the covers on the other side of Kookie. Now there are definitely no monsters because Kookie has his hyungie’s protecting him on both sides. It’s warm and safe and the best place in the whole world. 

He sighs, he thinks he could be sleepy now.

“Do you feel okay to tell us about the monsters?” Yoobie-hyungie asks with a kiss to Kookie’s temple. It’s a nice kiss, a soft kiss, Kookie likes getting kisses. 

Kookie nods, wriggling to get just a little more comfortable in his hyungie’s arms. “I tell you.”

“What did they say?” Jiminie-hyungie asks. 

“They say lots of things.”

“Like what?” Jiminie-hyungie asks again.

Kookie doesn’t know where to start because it is lots of things and they’re all mean and they make him sad and he doesn’t like to think about them. “They sound like Byungwoo-ssi.” 

That’s the man Kookie lived with before he lived with his hyungies. Kookie doesn’t like him. He hides in the cupboard when Byungwoo-ssi comes home. His voice is loud and lazy and sometimes he walks in a funny way. All crissy crossy just like when Kookie tries to walk after playing dizzy dinosaurs. 

“Sometimes Ahnjung-ssi too,” he explains. But Ahnjung-ssi doesn’t talk to Kookie so the monsters don’t sound like her much. Kookie mustn’t talk to her because she doesn’t want to be bothered. Sometimes she forgets about Kookie and he doesn’t get dinner, but if he says he’s hungry he also doesn’t get dinner. It’s better not to talk to her.

“They’re gone baby,” Jiminie-hyungie says. “They won’t ever be coming back.” 

That’s not what the monsters say. And Kookie knows the monsters tell lies, but the adults tell lies too that should be white lies but are proper lies and they hurt and he doesn’t know what to believe...

Yoobie-hyungie kisses his cheek again. “Remember? The policeman came and took them away. He locked them up far far away and they can never get out, remember?” 

He does remember the policeman, he was tall and had hair on top of his lip that’s called a moo-sta-shi-o . And he had a very shiny badge and a funny looking hat that he let Kookie wear. He asked Kookie lots of questions. He doesn’t like remembering the questions. But afterwards the policeman gave him candy and told him he was brave. He liked that part. 

“His name was Officer Lee-ssi,” Kookie says, playing with the rings on Jiminie-hyungie’s fingers. He has lots of rings because he’s an idol and it’s fashion Yoobie-hyungie you don’t understand . They’re silver and twinkle like diamonds in the sun and they twirl and twirl around Jiminie-hyungie’s fingers when Kookie plays with them. 

“That’s right, my clever boy,” Jiminie-hyungie says. “And Officer Lee-ssi said that Ahnjong-ssi and Byungwoo-ssi will never come and take you away again.” 

Kookie is worried . 

The monsters say they will. They say that hyungies lie. And not the white lies the bad lies. But his hyungies have never told Kookie a white lie before; they're good people, they don’t lie. So it must be the monsters who lie, right?

“Never come back,” Kookie whispers and there are no monsters around to tell him he’s wrong and that makes him happy. He likes being happy. “Hyungies found me.”

“Yes we did,” Yoobie-hyungie hums. “We found you and we’ll never let you go.” 

“Okay,” Kookie agrees and his eyes feel all heavy and sleepy. The big bed is so comfy and he’s warm and safe and he just wants to sleep. “You found me, no more adventures.”

“No more adventures,” Yoobie-hyungie agrees. 

Jiminie-hyungie nuzzles his forehead against the side of Kookie’s head. “We love you, baby.”

No one ever told Kookie they loved him before he met his hyungies. 

He’s not really sure what love is, actually. 

Jung- seonsaengnim says that you can’t hold love in your hands and you can’t eat it either. But it’s very important and it’s very special. He says that mummies and daddies love their children and their children love their mummies and daddies. 

Kookie doesn’t have a mummy or a daddy, maybe that’s why he doesn’t know what love is. 

But if Jiminie-hyung and Yoobie-hyung say they love him does that make them his daddies? 

Does he get to have two daddies? 

Is he allowed to have two daddies?

Kookie thinks he would very much like to have two daddies. 

Maybe one day it’ll be okay for him to have that. 

One day when the monsters are gone and he knows what love is better. 

But he thinks maybe he knows enough about love that he probably loves his hyungies too. But he’ll have to double check.

“Again,” he asks through a yawn.

Yoobie-hyungie chuckles and gives him one more kiss, right on the tip of his nose. “We love you.”

“Lots and lots,” adds Jiminie-hyungie. 

“Okay,” he sighs, and he feels very happy. “Lots and lots.”

Jiminie-hyungie also sighs, it’s soft and Kookie can feel the sigh on his face because Jiminie-hyungie always likes to snuggle close when sleeping. “Come on now, baby,” he whispers. “Bed time.”

Kookie feels even more sleepy. His eyes feel very heavy and Kookie isn’t strong enough to keep them open anymore. But just before he really really falls asleep, he can hear Jiminie-hyungie singing and it makes Kookie so warm and light he could fly away like a balloon.

It’s Kookie’s song. That’s what Jiminie-hyungie says. He sings songs for all his friends all over the world but this song is only for Kookie. And Kookie loves it very very much. It makes him feel safe and it makes him feel happy and it makes him feel special. 

“I want you to be your light, baby, you should be your light…” sings Jiminie-hyungie and Kookie has the biggest smile across his face.

If Kookie gets to stay with Jiminie-hyungie and Yoobie-hyungie and Cooky in the big bed where Yoobie-hyungie protects him from the monsters and Jiminie-hyungie sings him special songs and he never has to go on an adventure again, then Kookie thinks that maybe that can be his happily ever after.

Kookie likes the stories where they live happily ever after.