So good at losing you

Jimin and Jungkook got off on the wrong foot.

Now, they both hate each other.

That’s until Jimin meets goldenboy109 on Grindr and Jungkook suddenly stops bullying him at school and tries to become… his friend?

It's a classic case of Jikook hating each other so much they become obsessed. But there's no reason in being obsessed with someone if you're not a little into them. Right?

Note: inspired by JulesxNate from Euphoria but obviously with a very different ending.

Notes:

Hi everyone!
I’m back with a new story 🥳
I wanted to do something a little different this time (meaning shorter haha, but as you can see, I lamentably failed at that… I don’t know how to write short stories 😭), so I hope you like it!
It’s another enemies-to-lovers, I’m such a sucker for that trope… with a lot of pining, angst, and all that jazz, but you know I wouldn’t let you down, so it has a happy ending ❤️
I broke it down into 4 parts (hoping that won't become 5 parts😅) and will post 1 part every week as usual.
Anyways, that’s it, hope you enjoy! 🙂

I don't allow translations or reposts of my work. Thank you for understanding.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Jungkook had always been the jealous type.

He never really figured out if it was pure ego driving him—the refusal to let anyone or anything chip away at his worth—or if it was true jealousy. The blinding kind. The kind that twists your guts, spreads like poison through your veins, and clamps down on your heart so hard it feels like you’re on the verge of a literal cardiac arrest.

Bottom line: he was territorial, possessive, and he hated when anyone laid a hand on what he considered his.

So when he caught sight of his (very drunk) girlfriend being groped by some random, nameless guy from their high school, fury was all Jungkook could feel.

He bolted out of the living room, the blasting music suddenly deafening, crawling under his skin, and headed into the kitchen to pour himself another drink.

His brother, Yoongi, was already there, leaning casually against the counter, beer in hand, surrounded by his friends Seokjin and Namjoon. Jungkook’s best friend, Taehyung, was with them too. Jungkook made a beeline for the group, slumped down next to Yoongi, snatched his beer, and took a long swig before handing it back with a grunt, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Ew, what the fuck, it’s warm.”

“Get your own beer, then,” Yoongi shot back before taking a sip. He’d clearly been nursing the same bottle for a while, and Jungkook realized it was because he was the designated driver, stuck with the responsibility of getting him and Taehyung home later that night. Jungkook felt a stab of guilt for dragging his older brother to high school parties over and over again just so he could have some fun.

Yoongi was a junior in college, always flanked by his best friend since middle school, Namjoon, and Namjoon’s boyfriend, Seokjin, both juniors at the same university. They were inseparable, much like Jungkook and Taehyung.

Growing up, Namjoon had always been around, and despite Jungkook’s initial crush on him—something he quickly rebranded as admiration—Namjoon became like a second brother. With their father out of the picture after the divorce, Jungkook had been desperate for another male figure to look up to. Yoongi and Namjoon, together, filled that role as best they could.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Taehyung nudged him, passing him a cold can of beer. Jungkook grabbed it, fingers tightening around the metal as he cracked it open and nearly downed half in one gulp.

“Fucking Cassie flirting with a nobody,” Jungkook grunted. All three of them instinctively glanced toward the living room, trying to spot her, but Cassie was already upstairs with said nobody.

“She’s an idiot,” Taehyung muttered. “I don’t even know why you’re so desperate to make it work with her. She’s notorious for being a slut.”

Taehyung wasn’t wrong. The rumors about Cassie were endless. Jungkook had chased after her mostly because she was pretty and popular, the kind of girl everyone else wanted. They’d been dating casually over the summer, but she was demanding, complicated—the perfect image of a trophy girlfriend.

Before Jungkook could even think of defending her, Taehyung cut in again. “Don’t get me wrong, she’s gorgeous and all, but you’re the baseball team’s best batter. You could do way better than her.”

Namjoon’s warm, heavy hand landed on Jungkook’s shoulder and squeezed. “He’s right, Jungkook-ah. There are plenty of girls who’d kill to be with you.”

Jungkook snorted, took another sip of his beer, and shrugged.

It wasn’t that he doubted his ability to find someone else. He didn’t even care much about having a girlfriend—he only kept one because it made him more popular, more normal, and earned him the admiration and respect of his teammates. What he hated was the humiliation. The rejection.

And right now, he was seething with both.

That’s when he noticed them. A pair of soft brown eyes staring at him.

He’d been so lost in his anger, so absorbed in his problems, that he failed to notice the presence of another student in the kitchen with them.

Jungkook’s gaze swept over the smaller frame: a large, baggy T-shirt slipping off one shoulder and swallowing most of his torso, the distorted collar exposing delicate collarbones, fabric draping partly over dark jeans stretched across muscular legs. His eyes trailed back up to plump lips, dark hazel eyes, and ash-blond hair streaked with gold.

“What the fuck are you staring at?” he snapped, still raw with anger, his whole body coiled tight, humiliation burning hotter at the thought of someone from school overhearing his drama.

The boy flinched, eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape.

“Jungkook-ah,” Yoongi said firmly, grabbing his brother’s arm, but Jungkook was already striding toward the boy.

“I said, what the fuck are you looking at?” he repeated, voice low and menacing, shoving the boy.

Choosing to ignore him, the boy pushed off the counter and made for the doorway that led back to the living room, but Jungkook blocked his path, crowding him until he was forced to step back.

“Is it fun? Eavesdropping on people’s private conversations?”

“I wasn’t listening.”

“Yeah, you were. I fucking saw you.”

“Get off your high horse. No one cares about your boring love life.”

Jungkook frowned, then a smirk tugged at his lips. He stepped closer, and the boy recoiled, now pinned against the fridge, but still held his chin high, eyes locked with Jungkook’s. He cast a fleeting glance at Jungkook’s friends, silently hoping someone would step in, but they stayed quiet.

Suddenly, Jungkook’s hand closed around his throat and slammed his head back against the cold metal. The boy’s breath caught, but he refused to flinch, staring Jungkook down with defiance.

“Do you have any idea who the fuck you’re talking to?”

“No,” he answered flatly. “And I don’t care.”

“You little fucking piece of—”

“Okay, enough,” Yoongi cut in sharply. He and Namjoon pulled Jungkook back, though Jungkook’s eyes stayed locked on his target. “You’ve got an audience. Get your shit together.”

That was when Jungkook noticed the cluster of students who had drifted into the kitchen, drawn by the raised voices and eager for the next fight.

Jungkook shook off Yoongi’s grip, glaring one last time at the boy before storming out.

Taehyung trailed close behind, following Jungkook up the stairs as he took them two at a time. Jungkook charged down the hallway, slamming open doors until he found the one where Cassie was hiding.

She was on her knees in front of the bed, between a guy’s legs. He leaned back on his elbows, Cassie’s head bobbing over his length.

They startled apart instantly, Cassie wiping her mouth while the boy scrambled off the mattress.

Jungkook pointed at him, voice cold. “Put your fucking dick away and get out.”

The guy didn’t need to be told twice, he bolted past them and fled downstairs. Cassie sighed, irritation plain on her face, before plopping down on the bed.

“Kook—”

Jungkook turned to Taehyung, jerking his chin toward the door. “I’ll be right down. You go ahead.”

Taehyung hesitated, then nodded and left, shutting the door behind him. Jungkook waited until his footsteps faded before shifting his attention back to Cassie.

“Having fun?” he sneered. Cassie rolled her eyes.

“Don’t act all surprised and jealous. You’ve been ignoring me all night.”

“That doesn’t justify you sucking some other guy’s dick. You’re my girlfriend.”

“Am I?” she shot back. “Because you’ve made it abundantly clear you’d rather spend time with your friends than with me.”

“I’m not—”

“Oh, please. Don’t waste your breath with fucking excuses,” she cut him off. Jungkook clenched his jaw. “You never took me out on a date. Not once. We only hang out at school, where you parade me around for everyone to see, but you barely even touch me.”

Jungkook’s fists curled at his sides. Slowly, it sank in: watching his girlfriend with another guy hadn’t stirred any jealousy. No rage, no possessive burn. Just… nothing. Why didn’t he care? He thought he liked her.

“You’ve kissed me, what, like three times?” Cassie continued, but Jungkook wasn’t listening anymore. He didn’t want to touch her. He didn’t want to kiss her. He didn’t even want to apologize.

The only thing he wanted was for her to stop making him look like a fool.

Apparently, Cassie had been craving the attention Jungkook wouldn’t give her—and went looking for it in someone else’s arms.

“You still cheated on me,” he managed to say, his voice flat, stripped of bite or emotion.

“Is it cheating when we can barely even call this a relationship?”

Jungkook drew in a deep breath, the alcohol clouding his mind, muddling his thoughts until it was almost impossible to make sense of them. Cassie let out a heavy sigh and stood, smoothing down her skirt over her long legs.

“Why do you even want to be with me, Jungkook?” she asked, her tone serious, sober in a way that caught him off guard.

It was a good question. Why was he with her? He had no fucking idea.

Because she was pretty? Sure. But like she said, he never really did anything with that. He didn’t kiss her, didn’t touch her—not because he didn’t find her attractive, but because he never felt the urge, never wanted to.

Because she was fun? Yeah. But even then, he preferred hanging out with his friends. He barely spent time with her at all.

Because she was popular? Again, yes. But so was he. He didn’t need her to boost his own status.

So what, then, was the point?

“Jungkook?” Cassie’s voice cut through his haze, snapping him back. He stared at her blankly, speechless. All he wanted was to leave this room, head back downstairs, and lose himself in the noise of his friends. The thought of having a conversation—or worse, a fight—with her right now was exhausting.

Cassie scoffed at his silence, then stomped out of the room.

Jungkook knew he’d probably have to grovel on Monday, apologize, win her back.

But that was a problem for another day.

Jimin watched as the guy—Jungkook—was escorted out of the kitchen by his friend, followed quickly by the others, leaving the room suddenly empty except for him and one other guy. He glanced at the one who remained: a tall guy with a buzz cut, his hair dyed ash blond.

“Ignore him,” the stranger said.

Jimin shook his head. “Your friend is a fucking bully.” He reached into the fridge, grabbed a cooler, and cracked it open.

“Jungkook’s a good guy,” the guy continued. “He’s just… dealing with some things.”

“Oh please, we’re in high school. Everybody has problems.”

The guy chuckled and took a sip of his drink. “I’m Namjoon.”

“Jimin.”

Namjoon offered him a warm smile. “Nice to meet you, Jimin.”

They drank in silence for a minute or two. Jimin considered leaving, but he had nowhere to go. He didn’t know anyone at this party—Namjoon was the only person he could actually talk to.

“Do you also go to Greenwood High?” Jimin asked.

“No, I’m in college. I used to, though.”

“What are you doing at a high school party if you’re in college?” Jimin asked, baffled, his tone edged with judgment. He couldn’t wait to be done with high school himself, to finally move on from the misery of it, study something that mattered, and thrive.

Namjoon chuckled again, shaking his head. Jimin eyed him curiously.

“It’s a long story,” Namjoon said at last, then smiled faintly. “I’m babysitting.”

“That prick?” Jimin spat, not bothering to hide his growing dislike for Jungkook. He took another long swig of his cooler.

“He’s not a prick.”

Jimin rolled his eyes. “If you say so.”

Namjoon smirked but let it go. “I’ve never seen you before. Are you new?”

“I just transferred.”

“Where from?”

“I was born here, actually, but moved away with my parents when I was five. We came back with my mom because they got divorced.”

Namjoon’s shoulders sagged slightly. “I’m sorry to hear that. Divorce is no joke.”

Jimin shrugged. He’d trained himself to sound indifferent, to smother the familiar ache and shame that rose in his chest whenever he mentioned his father. “It’s fine. It happens.”

A heavy silence stretched between them. Jimin felt it pressing in on him, making him restless, though Namjoon seemed perfectly comfortable, sipping his drink and watching people drift in and out of the kitchen.

“I think I’m gonna head home,” Jimin finally said, setting his empty can on the island.

“Not having fun?”

Jimin drew in a sharp breath. “I just came to get a sense of the crowd before school starts,” he said mischievously. “Now I know who to avoid.”

He flashed a quick smile and walked out of the room.

Jimin slammed his locker shut, shoving his Physics book into his backpack. When he turned around, his eyes landed on a familiar silhouette.

Jungkook—walking down the hallway with one arm draped over that girlfriend of his, looking smug as hell.

Jimin wished he didn’t stare. But despite being the most obnoxious, self-important dumbass on the planet, Jungkook was also a fucking walking wet dream, and Jimin couldn’t help but drink it in.

Tall, broad-shouldered, with a lean waist and impossibly long, muscular legs. Dark bangs hung over his eyes. His arms looked strong enough to throw you into a headlock—and yes, Jimin had absolutely fantasized about that. Cherry-red lips, a strong nose with a rounded tip that softened his face and gave him a boyish look.

If only that asshole wasn’t his ideal type.

Jungkook caught him staring and tossed him a once-over, eyes flashing with disdain as he sauntered past. Jimin forced himself not to look away. No way he was going to let some cocky baseball player bully him into fear. This was his last year of high school. One more year. He could do it. He could totally ignore Jungkook for the next eleven months.

Adjusting the strap of his bag, Jimin pushed through the crowded hallway toward his next class. The room was already filling up. He spotted a lone desk at the back by the window and made a beeline for it.

As he slid into his seat, someone pulled out the chair beside him.

“Is that seat taken?”

Jimin looked up, meeting a pair of warm brown eyes and a boxy grin. Recognition clicked—he’d seen this guy at the party last Friday. One of Jungkook’s friends.

Jimin gave a half-shrug. The guy took that as permission and plopped down eagerly.

“I’m Taehyung,” he said brightly.

Jimin shot him a wary look. “Jimin.”

“I know,” Taehyung replied with a smirk. “You’re the guy from the party. I remember you.”

Jimin arched his brows mockingly, snorted, and opened his book.

“I’m on the baseball team with Jungkook. I’m the pitcher.”

“Good for you.”

“No, I mean—” Taehyung cut himself off with a laugh. “Okay, I get why you don’t like me,” he said, watching Jimin from the corner of his eye as more students filtered in. “I’m friends with Jungkook, and… yeah, he didn’t make the best first impression.”

“You think?” Jimin deadpanned.

“But I’m a nice guy,” Taehyung insisted. “Honest to God.” He placed one hand solemnly on his chest and raised the other like he was swearing an oath.

Jimin stared at him. Honestly, Taehyung looked a little too harmless to be a threat. Maybe everyone was nice—except for Jungkook.

The professor walked in, and both boys turned toward the front. Taehyung shot Jimin a quick wink, earning nothing more than a snort. Still, Jimin could feel himself warming to him, just a little.

When class ended, Taehyung hurried to pack up, slinging his backpack over one shoulder.

“Okay, I’ve got practice. See you around!”

He bolted out the door, leaving Jimin alone. Jimin pulled out his phone, groaning when he saw a sixth text from his mother asking about his day. He fired off a short, evasive reply, shoved his phone back into his pocket, and got up to leave. But before he could move, someone blocked his path.

“Hey.”

Jimin glanced up. The guy was tall, all lanky limbs, with soft dark eyes and honey-colored hair parted in the middle.

“Hey?” Jimin answered cautiously, unsure what was coming.

“Do you know Taehyung?”

“Not really, no.” Jimin brushed past him, heading for the door.

“But you sat next to him the entire class,” the boy pressed, keeping pace. His voice carried a hopeful edge.

“We’re not friends, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“But you seemed friendly—”

That stopped Jimin in his tracks. He turned, studying the boy. The look in his eyes was almost painful—full of hope, full of expectations— and Jimin recognized it and sighed. Jimin figured if he wanted to make friends, he might as well make an effort and be nice.

“I just met him, so I can’t say we’re friends,” Jimin said more gently.

“Oh…” The boy frowned.

“Why?”

He hesitated, searching for the right words. “Well… he’s like really cute, and I… you know.”

“You’re into him.”

“Yeah.”

“And you thought I could introduce you two.”

“Kinda, yeah.”

Jimin inhaled deeply. He knew he was going to regret his next words. “Sure, I can introduce you to him, I guess.”

The guy giggled like a schoolgirl, sauntering excitedly toward him and wrapping long arms around his neck in a crushing hug.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Jimin couldn’t help but smile, endeared.

“I’m Jimin, by the way.”

“Hoseok.”

And just like that, he made his first friend.

The thing is, Hoseok was obsessed with Taehyung.

Which meant that, as his new friend, Jimin was obligated to sit with him on uncomfortable bleachers for hours on end, through every single baseball practice.

And he hated it.

Because Jungkook was part of the team, which meant he was there every fucking time.

And sure, he was good—incredibly so. He caught every ball thrown his way, bat held firmly in his hands and swung with practiced ease, whipping the air before sending the ball flying across the field.
And yes, if you must know, he looked breathtaking in his uniform. Jersey hugging his shoulders, riding up just enough to reveal abs every time he swung the bat, pants leaving absolutely no room for imagination, and a cap pulled low over his eyes, revealing messy dark curls whenever he removed it.

But he was still an asshole.

Every time they crossed paths in the hallway or cafeteria, Jungkook would snicker at him, shove him out of the way, or bump shoulders just to prove he was stronger.

Jimin hated it, of course—but he hated keeping quiet even more.

Still, he’d rather pass for weak than put up a fight and have Jungkook on his case for the rest of the year.

He knew Jungkook had noticed him on the bleachers, but he made a point of ignoring him.

Cassie would sometimes show up and, to Jimin’s utter annoyance, she befriended Hoseok and would now join them to watch practice.

The autumn chill in the air seeped through his layers of clothes, no matter how tightly he pulled his jacket around him. But Hoseok was inflexible—rain or shine, he was always on those bleachers, watching Taehyung with stars in his eyes. It was so sweet it was almost sickening.

And Jimin was nothing if not a good friend, so he couldn’t refuse him.

They would just sit there, doing homework, pulling snacks and drinks out of their backpacks, and chatting. They agreed to pick seats far enough back that it didn’t look like they had come just to watch the team, but still close enough that Hoseok could openly swoon over how cute Taehyung was.

He and Cassie would giggle in hushed tones about their crushes while Jimin tried not to roll his eyes and stayed focused on his work. If he was going to make it into a good college, he couldn’t afford to lose sight of his goal.

Jimin had never met anyone who pined so hard after someone as Hoseok did. He couldn’t decide if it was cute or sad.

Sometimes, after practice, Taehyung would jog over, and Hoseok would sit up straight as a rod, body tense, staring mesmerized. Taehyung always wore his widest smile and engaged them in small talk. Jimin suspected Taehyung might, in fact, be interested in Hoseok.

Cassie was Jungkook’s girlfriend, and, given Jungkook’s temper, Jimin ruled out Taehyung hitting on her.

And Jimin himself had shown no particular interest in being friends with Taehyung, keeping to one-word answers and feigned indifference, always aware of Jungkook’s dark gaze lingering on them from across the field.

He wasn’t about to give him more reasons to bully him.

That left Hoseok. And although Taehyung had shown no obvious signs of being into guys, he was strangely friendly with him.

“Hey guys.” Taehyung waved as he strolled over. Jimin felt Hoseok shift beside him and had to hide a smile.

“Hi—hey—huh… hi,” Hoseok stumbled. Either Taehyung was oblivious or he was painfully polite, but his smile didn’t falter as he removed his cap and raked a lazy hand through his sweaty curls.

“Aren’t you cold out here?” he asked, his eyes flicking to Jimin briefly before settling on Hoseok.

“N-no, we’re good. It’s fine, I mean,” Hoseok fumbled. “What about you?”

Taehyung shrugged. “It’s not so bad when you’re running around the field.”

Hoseok laughed, a little too loud, a little too hard, given the lack of humor in Taehyung’s reply. Jimin smirked, gathering his books and stuffing everything into his backpack as he rose to his feet.

“Okay, I’m gonna go,” he announced—only for Hoseok to whip his head toward him, eyes wide with panic as he grabbed his wrist.

“Don’t go,” he begged. “Stay with us, until the end of practice.”

“Huh, I think practice is over,” Jimin countered, glancing at Taehyung.

“Yeah, it’s over,” Taehyung confirmed, and Hoseok slumped on the bench, crestfallen.

“But you guys are coming to the game on Saturday, right?” Taehyung asked, sounding less confident than usual, his eyes flicking between Hoseok, Jimin, and Cassie.

“Yes!” Hoseok blurted enthusiastically, then turned to his friends for backup.

“Sure,” Cassie announced, standing and joining Jungkook, who was striding toward them. Jimin watched as she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. Jungkook placed both hands on her hips, and Jimin was surprised by how tame the embrace was. He had expected Jungkook to be raunchy, all passion and PDA.

But he was surprisingly restrained, smiling faintly at Cassie as he pushed her away and draped a lazy arm over her shoulders.

Maybe he’s just shy, Jimin mused—only to immediately dismiss the thought.

Bullies were never shy.

“Jimin?” Hoseok called, snapping him back to the conversation.

“What?”

“Are you coming Saturday?”

The gleam of hope in Hoseok’s eyes was undeniable, and it broke Jimin’s heart to say no. But he had barely opened his mouth when Hoseok seized his hand.

“Don’t tell me you have other plans, I know you don’t have any—I’m your only friend.”

“I have homework,” he protested weakly, earning a glare from Hoseok.

“You have Sunday for that. Come with me.”

“Come on, Jimin-ah,” Taehyung encouraged, and Jimin felt his resistance cracking.

“We’ll get milkshakes after,” Hoseok bargained. “On me.”

Jimin rolled his eyes.

“Fine.”

That night, as Jimin was lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling, he realized he was bored.

Sure, he had a lot on his mind and plenty to do between homework, group projects, readings, and college applications.

But he was bored.

And horny.

A bad mix.

A dangerous mix.

Back at his previous school, it had been no secret that Jimin was into men, and it had been easy for him to meet other students who shared the same inclination.

Here, in his hometown, no one knew, and he felt that being too open about it might not be the best move.

Starting with Jungkook.

He couldn’t risk giving that prick more reasons to hate him. He was convinced Jungkook would be the kind of guy to shame others for their homosexuality.

Because, let’s be honest, Jungkook was the archetype of the heterosexual male.

Best batter of the baseball team. Handsome. Popular. Dating an equally attractive and popular girl.

And Jimin was not about to mess with him.

He eyed his phone on the nightstand and weighed his options.

Eventually, he reached for it, thumbed through the app store, and downloaded Grindr.

Just out of curiosity.

Just to see what was on the market in this town.

As he completed his profile, Hoseok texted him.

Hobi

what u up 2?

nothing

downloading a dating app

Hobi

whaaaat? 😱😱

you didn’t tell me u were looking for a gf

or a bf

sorry didn’t mean to assume

not looking for 1

just bored

Hobi

sure

next thing u know ur meeting the g/b of ur life

and I’ll still be w8ting for T like an idiot

😭😭😭

I don’t get why u don’t just talk 2 him

Hobi

I AM TRYING

he’s 2 handsome

and?

Hobi

n that’s intimidating

don’t wanna look like an idiot

u won’t

Hobi

anyway

how’s the app?

anything good? 😏😏

While texting, Jimin had been swiping through different profiles. It was, as expected, not the best selection. A lot of old married dudes looking for a good time, some guys experimenting, barely anyone his age. Except—

there’s 1

Hobi

oh?

[share profile]

After sending the profile of the guy, Jimin went through it again, waiting for Hoseok’s reply and first impressions.

Hobi

no picture of his face

🚩🚩🚩

maybe he’s just a private person

Hobi

a private pers on Grindr?

that’s bs

he’s closeted

or taken

or ugly

btw I knew u were playing for my team 😏😉

ur 2 pretty to be str8

lol

Jimin snorted, scrolling through the profile’s pictures once more.

Hobi

hell of a body tho

💦💦

That Jimin could agree on. There weren’t a lot of pictures, just three. But hell, those were three amazing pictures.

One at the gym—loose tank top and grey baggy sweatpants, pecs pressed together to show off flexed arms and a strong chest.

One in the bathroom—standing in front of a mirror, towel hanging low around the hips, an impressive display of golden skin, a narrow waist, and perfectly defined abs. Jimin immediately noticed the tattoo on the right hip: a snake twisted into an S shape, its head hanging down into the hollow of his hip.

And the last one (Jimin’s personal favorite), another bathroom shot—but this time from behind, and without the towel.

Hobi

but still a 🚩

goldenboy109?

lmao

lame

i don’t show my face in my pictures either

Hobi

why not?

ur gorgeous 💅🏻

cause that’s not how it works

Hobi

what’s ur pseudo?

not telling u

Hobi

why not?

so u can find me and make fun of my pictures?

Hobi

yes

😑

Hobi

fine

wonder if his dick is as pretty

want me to ask?

Hobi

seriously?

did u match?

yep

While texting Hoseok, Jimin swiped right, just to see.

His heart raced a little faster when he got an instant match. He knew the algorithm most likely pushed his profile because it was new on the app, but still, he hadn’t expected a match so soon.

Truth was, Jimin didn’t want this to go anywhere. He never intended to meet that guy, but he wasn’t bored anymore, and that had been the whole point.

So it couldn’t hurt to keep himself entertained.

calicocat13

hey

goldenboy109

hey

calicocat13

how’s ur nyt

goldenboy109

getting interesting

urs?

calicocat13

boring

goldenboy109

can i help?

calicocat13

D pic?

goldenboy109

[sent attachment]

Jimin clicked the icon and stared at the picture, jaw slack.

He stood corrected. This was his favorite picture.

He switched to his conversation with Hoseok.

[sent attachment]

Hobi

fuuuuuuck

Jimin's thoughts exactly.

He couldn’t take his eyes off the picture. His mouth began to water at the sight of the long length—slightly curved upward, traced by the prettiest and thickest vein, crowned with a flushed, flared cockhead—and he wasn’t ashamed of it.

goldenboy109

still there?

calicocat13

yeah

sorry

goldenboy109

u didn’t like it?

sorry, i can do better

Jimin was baffled. Didn’t like it? Do better? How could a guy so fucking hot doubt his own attractiveness?

In all his modest experience with dating apps, this had to be the most beautiful dick he’d ever seen.

But for some reason, the guy’s shyness made him sound almost cute, almost innocent, and it made Jimin smile.

calicocat13

no, it’s a really good 1

goldenboy109

can i ask…

calicocat13

goldenboy109

can i get a pic 2?

Jimin smirked. He knew exactly which picture to send.

calicocat13

[sent attachment]

The second he pressed ‘send,’ he felt nervous and didn’t know why. He’d done this before. It was harmless. And he knew he looked good.

He went back to the picture goldenboy109 had sent him and stared some more before opening his conversation with Hoseok.

Hobi

looks fucking huge

hey

hello???

wanking already?

Hobi

are u talking to him?

did u send a pic?

yes

Hobi

yes to…?

both

Hobi

naughty 😏

can i see?

Hobi

boo boring

gotta go

Hobi

don’t polish it 2 hard 😜

ha ha

Jimin closed his conversation with Hoseok and returned to his chat with goldenboy109.

goldenboy109

wow

i mean

fuck

Jimin grinned and blushed, feeling brazen and coy at the same time, a little too proud of himself.

calicocat13

like it?

goldenboy109

fuck yeah

ur… pretty

very pretty

calicocat13

lol

this is grindr

u can be honest

goldenboy109

fine

it’s the best piece of ass i’ve ever seen

Jimin was playing coy, but he knew the effect of that picture. Him lying on his bed, on all fours, back arched, ass cheeks round and firm, sheets and covers askew beneath him—there was no way someone could remain indifferent.

calicocat13

thx

goldenboy109

i’m new here

calicocat13

same

goldenboy109

and ur real, ryt?

not a bot?

calicocat13

haha

yeah

i’m real

goldenboy109

n ur not a creepy old dude pretending ur a cute student

calicocat13

u think i’m cute?

goldenboy109

very

calicocat13

u haven’t even seen my face

goldenboy109

fine, ur ass is cute

calicotcat13

lololol

goldenboy109

love ur profile, it’s sweet

u have a cat?

calicocat13

yeah

duchess

she’s an old lady

goldenboy109

how old?

calicocat13

14 this year

u? pets?

goldenboy109

want a dog but my mother’s against it

one day maybe

when I have my own place

calicocat13

[liked golbenboy109 message “when I have my own place”]

so… ur an athlete?

goldenboy109

yeah

calicocat13

r u part of the school baseball team?

For a second, Jimin felt like he might have been too rash, gone too far.

He assumed they were going to the same school—after all, they had matched within a 10k radius, and there was only one high school in that area. He wanted to make sure he wasn’t flirting or sharing nudes with someone from Jungkook’s team.

The last thing he needed was for goldenboy109 to share Jimin’s picture of his ass with his teammates.

goldenboy109

nah

just going to the gym n stuff

calicocat13

cool

The conversation went on.

Surprisingly, goldenboy109 could actually carry a conversation, and after the awkward, basic questions at the beginning, they moved on to better topics.

Music. Travels. Plans for the future. Family.

They texted until way past midnight, and Jimin barely minded that he needed sleep since it was still a school night.

He couldn’t put his phone down.

“Damn, you look like shit,” Hoseok commented when he sat next to Jimin in class.

“Did you—” he made an obscene gesture that made Jimin roll his eyes, “all night?”

“No,” he said. “I was texting, and it got late.”

“With goldenboy109?”

Jimin nodded, trying to hold back a smile, but Hoseok picked up on it immediately and nudged his shoulder.

“OMG, you like him!”

Jimin slapped his shoulder to hush him and glanced around to make sure no one was eavesdropping.

“He’s nice,” he deflected, and Hoseok raised his eyebrows.

“Nice?” he repeated.

“Yeah.”

“The guy sent you the most gorgeous dick pic in the history of dick pics, and you talked all night, but he’s ‘nice’?”

Jimin glanced sideways at Hoseok and bit his lower lip before his face split into the widest grin.

“Okay, I might be a little bit in love,” he admitted in one breath, his voice going higher in pitch, and Hoseok grabbed his hands, giggling and bouncing excitedly on his chair.

“I knew it!!” he squeaked. “Come on, tell me everything.”

Jimin shifted in his chair to face Hoseok. He checked the clock above the door to see if he had enough time before class started—their teacher wasn’t there yet.

“He’s just…” Jimin started, feeling at a loss for words. He hadn’t had a crush in what felt like forever. “So kind and funny. And smart too. And I just… it feels like a dream. I mean, you’ve seen his pics, what guy is both hot and sweet?”

“Right,” Hoseok agreed, looking hella serious.

“And we couldn’t stop talking. It was like he got me, you know?”

Hoseok nodded, enthusiastic but still composed.

“He told me his parents are divorced, just like mine, and it was just so easy to talk to him about it. He understood how I felt and what I’ve been through, and it was so… liberating to be understood.”

Hoseok gave him an encouraging nod. Jimin couldn’t stop rambling anymore.

“He’s into music, plays the guitar, and is learning the drums. Isn’t that so cool?”

“So cool,” Hoseok agreed.

“And we like the same bands, and he sent me a list of songs he loves, and that’s just so fucking romantic—”

“But you still don’t know what he looks like.” Hoseok interrupted as he saw the teacher walking in and settling at the desk.

“No, but that doesn’t really matter.”

“Huh, duh,” Hoseok mocked. “Of fucking course it matters.”

Jimin turned a little pale. It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about this all night. He was dying to see what goldenboy109 looked like, but he was riding such a high he didn’t want his little happy bubble to burst if he got curious and asked for a pic—only to find out the guy wasn’t his type.

So he averted his eyes and lied. “Looks aren’t everything. Personality matters too.”

“Sure, until the guy looks like a fucking dying breed, and there’s no way you can let him fuck you—” Hoseok stopped and narrowed his eyes at Jimin. “Or let you fuck him…?”

Jimin made a face and deadpanned, “Have you seen his dick?”

“Yeah, right. Let him fuck you then.”

“It’s just…” Jimin grunted and face-planted on his desk. “We only just started talking, and it’s going so well. I don’t wanna ruin everything just because I was curious.”

Hoseok opened his mouth to protest, but Jimin cut in. “Curiosity killed the cat, you know that.”

“Well, curiosity could save you a great deal of disappointment.”

Jimin sighed heavily. “I know, you’re right.”

The teacher clapped her hands to get the class’s attention, and both Hoseok and Jimin sat straighter in their chairs to face the board.

“So you’ll ask him to meet?” Hoseok whispered, and Jimin frowned.

“Meet? I can just ask for a pic.”

“A pic can be fake,” Hoseok whispered back, and Jimin elbowed him.

“Then his dick might be fake,” Jimin shot back before the teacher called their names and asked them to pay attention.

Hoseok waited a minute before whispering, “Point taken.”

Jimin spent the day on cloud nine.

He couldn’t stop texting goldenboy109 and went through the morning in a haze.

Even at lunch in the cafeteria, he couldn’t focus on a word Hoseok was saying, too busy watching the three dots bounce on his screen as he waited for goldenboy109’s reply.

“Could you wipe that silly smile off your face and pay attention for one minute?” Hoseok berated him, and Jimin locked his screen and placed his phone face down on the table.

“I’m sorry, I’m listening,” he apologized, his smile widening when his phone vibrated. Hoseok glared, and Jimin raised his hands in surrender.

“I won’t look,” he defended. “I’m all yours.”

“So, as I was saying, I need an outfit for the game on Saturday,” Hoseok started, sounding way too serious for the topic at hand. “Now, I know it’s a sports event, so I can’t show up all cute and pretty because everybody will think I don’t take it seriously—but no way I’m wearing sweatpants or a fucking jersey. So I need your help.”

“Need my help for what?”

“Are you fucking serious right now?” Hoseok whined. Jimin tried to listen, but his mind kept wandering back to goldenboy109, and he was dying to check his messages.

“Help me find an outfit.”

“Yes, yes, absolutely. I’ll help you,” Jimin rushed to say, legs bouncing impatiently under the table.

“Come to my place before the game?” Hoseok suggested. Jimin nodded.

“Sure.”

“Great,” Hoseok concluded, standing and picking up his tray. “Let’s go, class starts in five minutes.”

Jimin followed him, but as he stood and pushed his chair back, he bumped into a solid body and stumbled, catching himself on the table. His tray fell, cutlery clattering. He looked up to see none other than Jeon Jungkook staring at him.

“Watch where you’re fucking going.”

“You should watch where you’re going. How could I see you? You’re literally behind me.” Jimin snapped before thinking better of it. Hoseok froze. Jungkook smirked, and the sight was infuriating.

“You’re going to fucking regret talking to me this way. Apologize.”

“No,” Jimin fought back. It was too late now; he refused to back down.

Jungkook stepped closer, crowding Jimin, who clenched his jaw but didn’t move. The whole cafeteria had gone quiet, students staring.

“Apologize,” Jungkook repeated through gritted teeth.

Jimin inhaled sharply, trying to ignore the pounding of his heart. “No.”

“Ya, Jungkook-ah!”

Jimin slumped against the table as Taehyung joined them with a smile, throwing a friendly arm around Jungkook’s shoulders to pull him away.

“Practice will start soon—let’s go,” he told him before looking at Jimin and Hoseok. “Hey, guys,” he beamed, and Jimin did his best to smile back.

Taehyung all but dragged Jungkook away. Jimin refused to move or look away, holding Jungkook’s stare as long as he could before he disappeared from sight.

“Fuck,” Hoseok commented.

Yeah. He was fucked.

Jimin spent the rest of the week texting goldenboy109, but he couldn’t summon the courage to ask for a picture of his face.

He figured he deserved a few more days of peaceful, comfortable denial.

The rush he felt every time his phone buzzed was addictive. Day and night, it consumed him. Every morning, he woke up to a “good morning” text, and every night, he went to sleep with his phone in hand, goldenboy109 wishing him sweet dreams.

He felt like an addict in need of his fix. And he refused to mess it up.

It was Friday night. He was bundled up in a blanket, curled on his bed, phone in hand, staring at the screen as goldenboy109 typed.

goldenboy109

can i ask u something?

calicocat13

ofc

goldenboy109

how did u know?

calicocat13

know what?

goldenboy109

that u were gay

calicocat13

idk

i never really thought about it

i guess when i kissed a girl for the first time n felt nothing?

but then had the most embarrassing boner in the locker room looking at Trevor

goldenboy109

Trevor?

what a dumb name

calicocat13

lmao

jealous?

goldenboy109

extremely

did u kiss him?

Jimin blushed and giggled under the blanket.

calicocat13

i did

goldenboy109

how was it?

calicocat13

life changing

goldenboy109

that’s fucking great

how do i compare to that

calicocat13

u didn’t let me finish

in the sense it was eye-opening

other than that, none of us knew what he was doing

goldenboy109

so i still got a chance to swoon u over

calicocat13

a 100%

goldenboy109

good

calicocat13

what about u

when did u know

goldenboy109

it’s complicated

calicocat13

u don’t have to talk about it

if that’s uncomfortable

goldenboy109

no it’s…

my dad is gay

that’s why my parents divorced

and i’ve always hated him for it

calicocat13

i get it

that can’t have been easy

i’m sorry

goldenboy109

what about ur parents?

anyone gay? lesbian? trans?

please tell me i’m not the only 1 with a dysfunctional family haha

calicocat13

no gay, lesbian or trans as far as i know

but ur not the only 1 with a dysfunctional family

Jimin stopped typing, unsure if he should keep going. He hadn’t talked much about what happened with his parents.

goldenboy109

calicocat13

my dad was a drunk

n not the kind 1

goldenboy109

m sorry

was he like… hitting u?

or ur mom? siblings?

calicocat13

not me no

my mom

n no siblings

goldenboy109

an older brother

i'm glad he didn't hit u

but it sucks for ur mom

i'm sorry

calicocat13

it's fine, he's gone now

a brother?

let me guess

not gay?

goldenboy109

haha no

very str8

calicocat13

does he know?

goldenboy109

no one does

Jimin paused. So goldenboy109 was closeted—just like Hoseok had predicted—and probably recently “on the market,” having only just figured out his sexual orientation. Or maybe he was still experimenting?

The thought twisted his stomach in uncomfortable ways.

calicocat13

have u ever dated a guy?

He couldn’t help but ask, but he dreaded the answer, waiting for it with a pounding heart.

goldenboy109

Fuck, Jimin thought. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

calicocat13

kissed one?

goldenboy109

😓 no…

Double, triple, fucking fuck. Jimin took a deep breath and kicked off the blanket—he was getting too hot.

calicocat13

how do u know then

goldenboy109

i had a girlfriend

well

girlfriends

but the last one really helped me see what was in front of me

calicocat13

goldenboy109

i’m not attracted to girls

no matter what i do

no matter how pretty

calicocat13

u could just be asexual

or pan

need a real connection to feel something

goldenboy109

i can tell u i’m not any of those things

calicocat13

how do u know?

goldenboy109

ur picture

calicocat13

what?

goldenboy109

the one u sent me

i keep staring at it

This could go two ways: either sweet and innocent—taking the compliment and moving on—or diving in headfirst and spicing things up.

Jimin was never really reasonable when it came to sexting.

calicocat13

is staring all u do?

goldenboy109

u know it’s not

calicocat13

maybe it’s time u get another 1…

goldenboy109

please

Jimin fumbled with the blanket, kicking it aside before tossing off his t-shirt and rearranging the bed. Slightly out of breath from excitement, he knelt on the mattress and raised his phone to take a picture of his naked chest, careful to keep his face out of the frame. He arched slightly backward to show off his abs beneath the thin layer of fat on his soft belly. Satisfied with the result, he turned onto his stomach and snapped another picture over his shoulder, highlighting the arch of his back and the curve of his ass.

calicocat13

[sent attachment]

goldenboy109

u sure u aren’t an athlete

because fuck

Jimin giggled.

calicocat13

ur turn

Jimin waited with bated breath, impatience and arousal bubbling in his stomach.

goldenboy109

[sent attachment]

Jimin stared, mesmerized, at the expanse of golden skin, the long torso, the dips of the hips with the tattoo standing out against flawless skin, and the evident bulge in black Calvin Klein boxers.

calicocat13

i sent 2

goldenboy109

haha

[sent attachment]

Jimin didn’t know if he regretted asking for a second one—or if it was the best thing he had ever done. He didn’t think he could ever move on from how perfect goldenboy109’s cock looked. The picture was taken from the same angle as the previous one, lying on the bed, but the boxers had been pushed down to reveal a rigid cock, head flared and a dark shade of pink, while a hand held it up. Fantasies swarmed his mind.

calicocat13

i swear you have the most gorgeous cock i’ve ever seen

goldenboy109

wanna c urs

Jimin knelt on the bed again. He knew better than to send a frontal dick pic and understood the power of teasing. Lowering his waistband just enough to let the flushed, slick cockhead peek out, he snapped the picture.

calicocat13

[sent attachment]

goldenboy109

just as pretty as everything else

wanna touch u so bad

calicocat13

touch me where

Jimin had already removed his boxers and was lying naked on his bed, cock throbbing with a burning arousal he hadn’t felt in months. He wrapped his hand around it, squeezing gently—teasing, holding back.

goldenboy109

ur legs n thighs

they’re so thick

i wanna shove my cock between them and fuck them

calicocat13

what else

goldenboy109

ur stomach

looks so soft

wanna lick ur nipples

Typing was a struggle with one hand wrapped around his cock. He wanted to make it last, but he wasn’t sure he could.

calicocat13

wanna bounce on that fat cock of urs

goldenboy109

god fuck

okay, yeah

fuck

calicocat13

split me in half

Jimin wasn’t new to the sexting game. He’d mastered the art over the years and never shied away from speaking crudely. But it had been a while since he went down this road—and never had he done it with the most beautiful cock’s picture in hand.

goldenboy109

i bet ur so fuckin tyt

calicocat13

so wet for u

goldenboy109

love it messy

r u touching urself?

calicocat13

yes

goldenboy109

fuck

wish i could c u

He half-considered pressing the video chat button, but then realized it wasn’t how he wanted goldenboy109 to see him for the first time. He wanted a proper first date—fully clothed, prepared, presentable.

calicocat13

m close

Jimin dropped his phone. He couldn’t focus anymore. Images of goldenboy109’s abs, tattoo, massive cock, and perfect hand flooded his mind, and all he could imagine was that hand on him, his tongue on those abs, that cock shoved deep inside him.

With that image, Jimin spilled over his hand with a muffled cry.

He came down from his high slowly, amazed by its intensity, wishing he could do it all over again. He reached for the tissue box on the floor, grabbed a couple to clean his hand, and then picked up his phone.

goldenboy109

wanna c the mess u made

calicocat13

[sent attachment]

goldenboy109

beautiful

[sent attachment]

Too caught up in his own pleasure, Jimin realized he’d forgotten to ask if goldenboy109 was touching himself too.

The answer was yes.

The sight of his soft cock, spent and lying along the crease of his hip, covered in white cum, was enough to make Jimin’s cock twitch with renewed interest.

calicocat13

what a waste

wish u had cummed all over me

goldenboy109

i thought about cumming inside u

calicocat13

would love that even more

after we get tested

goldenboy109

ofc

calicocat13

that was so good

m tired now

goldenboy109

go to bed then

we’ll talk tomorrow

calicocat13

good nyt

goldenboy109

sweet dreams

Jimin smiled before he pulled the blanket over him and closed his eyes.

Saturday.

Jimin had spent a few hours at Hoseok’s, helping him pick an outfit and guiding him through the highs and lows of wanting to look good for his crush.

They were making their way through the crowd, sodas in hand, ready to find a good spot on the bleachers when someone called their names. They turned around and spotted Taehyung jogging toward them.

Hoseok stiffened immediately, gripping Jimin’s hand.

“Hey,” Taehyung smiled. Jimin waved, while Hoseok just stared at Taehyung in his outfit.

“Huh,” Taehyung started, “I got you jerseys for the game.” He handed them a pair of jerseys, and Hoseok practically snatched one from his hand, throwing it over his shoulders.

“You look really good,” Taehyung said, and Hoseok turned crimson while Jimin tried—and failed—not to burst into laughter.

“Wish us luck!” Taehyung said as he walked away. Hoseok yelled, “Good luck!”

Jimin turned to him with an accusatory look.

“What?” Hoseok asked innocently.

“‘I’m not wearing a fucking jersey,’” Jimin quoted him, referencing their earlier conversation, and his friend pouted.

“It’s different, he gave it to me.”

“Sure.”

“Anyway, put yours on and let’s go.”

They found good seats on the bleachers, with an unobstructed view of the field. The players were stretching and practicing. Hoseok waved back when Taehyung gestured at them.

Cassie joined them and sat next to Jimin. She spotted Jungkook and smiled.

“He’s so handsome, I die.”

“Yeah,” Jimin grunted. “Too bad he’s a jerk.”

“He’s not so bad,” she defended with a shrug, reaching for Hoseok’s soda and taking a sip.

“Why are you even dating him?” Jimin asked, out of sheer curiosity.

“Oh, it’s complicated,” she said. “I guess we both find something in the relationship that satisfies us.”

“Like what?”

Cassie shrugged again. “Well, I can’t speak for him, but he’s popular, and being his girlfriend boosted me up the charts of most attractive girl in the school,” she finished with a grin, and Jimin rolled his eyes.

Two girls joined her, chatting and squealing excitedly next to him. Jimin checked his phone—no new messages from goldenboy109.

Hoseok leaned closer and whispered, “How are things going with Mister Cock?”

“Don’t call him that,” Jimin whispered-shouted, earning a chuckle from Hoseok. He glanced at him sideways.

“We sexted last night.”

“Oh, it’s getting juicy. Got any new pics?”

Jimin shrugged. “A bunch.”

“Show me.”

“No fucking way.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” Jimin defended.

“Because it’s getting serious?” Hoseok supplied with a smirk. “Does that mean you’re finally gonna meet him?”

“Not yet.”

“Why not? It’s been a week already.”

“I’m not ready yet.”

Jimin had been thinking about asking goldenboy109 on a date. He was growing more convinced he couldn’t be ugly—not with that kind of body. And he had the sweetest personality, no problem being vulnerable around Jimin, talking about his dad, his parents’ divorce, his brother, who seemed to be everything their mother wanted, while he struggled to meet her expectations.

They sexted, yes, but they also talked about a million other things—it felt like they could never run out of subjects.

Just now, not receiving a text from goldenboy109 left Jimin pining for him.

The thing was, he had begun doubting he was good enough. The fact that he was goldenboy109’s first gay experience was both exhilarating and terrifying. He didn’t know if he could date someone who needed to hide.

“You were right by the way. He’s closeted,” he finally admitted to Hoseok.

“Well, fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“Has he ever had a relationship with a guy before?”

Jimin shook his head.

“That could be a good thing,” Hoseok mused.

“How could that be a good thing?”

“I mean, no exes, that's always a plus. And you could teach him everything. Plus, it’s kinda flattering he chose you to be the first one.”

“Or totally pressuring,” Jimin objected. “What if we start dating and he realizes he’s not into men? What if I disgust him?”

Hoseok made a face, hiding a smile. “Come on,” he chastised. “Have you seen yourself? If it wasn’t for Taehyung, I’d totally be going after you.”

Jimin snorted. The horn announcing the start of the game blared across the field, startling everyone. Jimin checked his phone one more time. Still no text. He pocketed it and decided to enjoy the game as best he could.

He didn’t know much about baseball, but he knew each inning would take forever. Thankfully, with Jungkook as batter and Taehyung as pitcher, there was always someone to watch. And when Jungkook wasn’t on home plate but in the ballpark, he was still fascinating to watch.

Jimin would never admit it to a living soul, but damn, Jungkook was good. No wonder he was so popular. Each swing of the bat was swift, precise, and rarely missed the ball. The clanging sound every time it hit echoed across the field as Jungkook dropped the bat and ran to first base.

He was mesmerizing. Focused. Unshakable, despite the cheers and shouts.

Their team made a home run during the fourth inning, and Jimin found himself jumping and screaming in joy with Hoseok and the crowd, celebrating their team’s victory.

After the game, Hoseok refused to leave before seeing Taehyung and congratulating him. So they waited in the hallway by the locker room door.

The hopeful look on Hoseok’s face every time it swung open was truly endearing, and Jimin kept rolling his eyes and smiling. He checked his phone once more—still no text.

“Oh, hey guys,” Taehyung finally chirped as he exited the locker room. Hoseok clasped his hands in his.

“You were so good!”

Taehyung blushed. He blushed. And Jimin knew for a fact this was a done deal.

“There’s a party at Jake’s place, wanna come?” Taehyung offered, and Hoseok beamed as he turned to Jimin, who winced. Going to another party on a Saturday night was not what he needed—especially one thrown by a player of the baseball team—but Hoseok was already gripping his arm.

“Come on, let’s go,” he all but begged, and Jimin sighed.

“Fine, let’s go.”

Taehyung smiled and led them outside the stadium. It was a short walk to Jake’s house, so Jimin trailed behind while Taehyung and Hoseok happily chatted and openly flirted. He still had no text from goldenboy109 and started doubting himself. Was that it? Had he grown tired of their conversations? Or was he just busy?

Jimin exhaled heavily as he stepped inside the house and followed his friend to the kitchen to get drinks.

Coolers in hand, they made their way to the living room and squeezed together on the couch. Jimin scanned the room and noticed Jungkook standing in the doorway, talking to teammates. He grunted—praying Jungkook would keep his distance—and took a long swig from his can.

A guy from the baseball team plopped down next to him while Hoseok and Taehyung remained engrossed in their own little world, talking and laughing.

“Hey,” the guy smiled.

“Hey,” Jimin replied warily.

“I’m Roy, third baseman.”

Jimin nodded, “Jimin.” He fought the urge to roll his eyes. What was it with baseball players always introducing themselves with their position?

There was an awkward beat of silence, and Jimin watched as Jungkook moved closer, sitting down on a large leather chair. Cassie appeared out of nowhere and settled comfortably on his lap. They were now within earshot, and Jimin felt the urge to leave.

But then something caught his eye.

A small ball of fur scurried past them and disappeared under the couch, and Jimin squeaked.

“Is that a cat?” he exclaimed, excitement bubbling as he immediately wanted to pet it.

“Yeah, that’s Jake’s cat,” Roy replied nonchalantly. “You like cats?” he asked when Jimin started twisting around to peek behind the couch, trying to get a glimpse of the animal.

“I do, I have one,” he answered.

“Oh yeah? Do you have pictures?” Roy asked, and Jimin eagerly pulled his phone from his pocket.

“Yeah, of course.” He showed him a picture. “Her name’s Duchess,” he said, smiling down at the photo.

What he didn’t see was Jungkook snapping his head around, his body coiling in the chair, eyes widening, attention locking on him.

“She’s turning fourteen this year,” Jimin went on, while Roy nodded beside him.

“What kind of breed is that?”

“A calico,” Jimin said, and Jungkook nearly choked on his beer. “They’re mostly females and always have three colors. See?” He pointed at his screen.

“That’s cool,” Roy replied, taking a sip of his drink.

“Right?”

Jimin smiled, completely oblivious to Jungkook’s eyes trained on him. Jungkook pulled his phone from his pocket, quickly typed out a message, and hit send.

He watched as Jimin’s phone pinged. Jimin immediately pulled away from Roy, shielding his screen as he checked the notification. His smile spread ear to ear as he read the message.

goldenboy109

hey

what r u up 2

calicocat13

i’m at a party

Jungkook typed another text, just to be sure.

goldenboy109

having fun?

calicocat13

not really

i’m glad u texted me :)

how’s ur day?

Jungkook bounced out of his chair and bolted from the room. Cassie followed him into the hallway.

“Jungkook?”

Panic was rising fast—nausea tightening his throat, heart racing, palms slick with sweat. This couldn’t be happening.

His mind reeled with thoughts too terrifying to admit, too real to accept. Jungkook realized how unprepared he was for this. Talking to someone online was easy, harmless. Deniable. It wasn’t real.

But calicocat13 was real. And he now had a face.

And it was Jimin’s.

Jungkook had no idea what to do with that information, what to think, what to feel. He wasn’t ready to face that part of himself.

He thought of his father—of how he had left them, his mother, his brother, him. How he had moved on, found happiness with another man. He didn’t deserve happiness. Not after shattering their family. Jungkook hated him. He resented him. His whole life, his world, his foundation had collapsed when his father walked away.

And it sickened him to realize he was just the same.

That the one thing he shared with his father was his suppressed attraction to other men.

It had been easier to hate his father when they had nothing in common. When Jungkook was nothing like him.

But now? He was turning into him.

A man who loved men.

And that thought was unacceptable.

Suddenly, he whirled around, grabbing Cassie, who had been calling his name. He shoved her against the wall. She squealed in surprise, and he kissed her.

Hard.

Cassie recovered quickly, fisting his t-shirt and dragging him closer, eager to return the kiss.

He did it to prove something. To prove he was attracted to women. That he wasn’t twisted. That he wasn’t broken. That nothing was wrong with him.

But his mind was elsewhere.

He thought about calicocat13.

He thought about Jimin.

Jimin was calicocat13, the boy he’d been flirting with for a week.

The boy to whom he had confessed his darkest secrets, his dreams for the future, his doubts about life. Jimin knew everything.

And above all, Jimin knew he liked men.

Jimin had seen his pictures—naked, hard, covered in cum.

Fuck.

Jimin was the boy in those pictures.

The one Jungkook had masturbated to every night this past week.

His cock hardened in his jeans. He couldn’t believe it.

No. No. No. No.

He tried to focus on Cassie—the feel of her body, her curves pressed against him. She shoved her tongue into his mouth, and he let her. His hands flew to her waist. But all he could see was Jimin: ash-blond hair, creamy-white skin, plump lips, his body, his ass, his cock.

Jungkook moaned.

Cassie palmed his erection through his jeans, and that was when he pushed her away. He couldn’t take it. Her perfume made him sick, her hands on his body, her lips, her tongue, the sounds she made—everything was wrong.

Cassie stumbled but steadied herself.

“What are you doing?” she asked, dumbfounded. She was tipsy, grinning as she tried to step closer, but Jungkook stopped her.

“I’m not feeling well,” he muttered, before slipping away into the bathroom.

He stared at himself in the mirror, breath coming fast. His reflection looked back at him with wide, panicked eyes.

“Fuck,” he groaned.

He rushed to the toilet, flipped the lid open, and heaved.

Retches gave way to a coughing fit. He slumped against the bathtub, eyes watering, throat raw, chest tight.

No one could know. If Jimin talked, it would destroy him.

And then he realized: Jimin didn’t know he was goldenboy109. Jimin hated him. And he had been nothing but cruel to Jimin. So he was fine, for now.

Jungkook splashed water over his face, rinsed his mouth, heart hammering against his ribs. He inhaled deeply, trying to steady himself, then left the bathroom.

The party had moved outside to the backyard. The house was nearly empty now, only a couple making out on the living room couch. Through the window, he spotted Taehyung and Hoseok sitting close on the back porch, talking.

But no Jimin.

He searched the kitchen—and found him.

Jimin was leaning against the counter, phone in hand, staring at the screen.

Slowly, Jungkook stepped inside and opened the fridge for a beer. Jimin looked up and froze at the sight of him.

Without a word, Jimin moved for the door, but Jungkook rushed to block him.

“Hey,” he said, arm braced across the doorway, his other hand clamping around Jimin’s wrist.

“Let go of me.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m here with a friend.”

Jimin tried to push past him, but Jungkook forced him deeper into the kitchen. The look in Jimin’s eyes was unbearable—defiance and fear tangled in those dark hazel irises.

Jimin’s back hit the counter. He looked up, heart pounding, nausea creeping in with the alcohol that burned in his veins.

“Is that your thing?” Jimin snapped. “Cornering people in kitchens to threaten them?”

“And you?” Jungkook shot back. “Is it your thing to show up where you’re not wanted?”

“Taehyung invited me.”

“Taehyung’s my friend.”

“He’s not your property,” Jimin snarled. “Take it up with him if you’ve got a problem.”

“Why are you always hanging out at the baseball field?” Jungkook deflected, catching him off guard.

Jimin stayed silent. He wouldn’t betray Hoseok’s crush on Taehyung—not to Jungkook, who could ruin everything with one word.

“That’s none of your business.”

“Are you hot for Taehyung? Is that why you’re here?”

“I’m not. But if I were, it wouldn’t be any of your damn business.”

Jungkook stared into his eyes, leaning closer, and Jimin held his ground, refusing to show any sign of fear. Jungkook’s voice dropped.

“Who then? Me?”

Jimin snorted. “No fucking way in hell.”

Jungkook’s fists clenched. He forced himself to step back, dizzy with the urge to touch him. His palms tingled with the need to feel Jimin’s waist, the skin of his stomach, the softness of his lips. He wanted to know what it was like to kiss a boy.

To kiss Jimin.

But he couldn’t risk it. Not here. Not now. Not drunk.

He stepped back again, jabbing a finger toward him.

“You stay the fuck away from me.”

Jimin swallowed hard, holding back tears. He refused to cry in front of Jungkook, but God, it was so hard not to break.

He watched Jungkook leave, then gasped for air when he was finally alone.

Jimin went back home.

He told Hoseok he wasn’t feeling well, and since Hoseok was having such a great time with Taehyung, he graciously let him go.

Jimin stripped out of his clothes and took a scalding hot shower before changing into a comfortable pair of sweats and a t-shirt. He curled up on his bed, slipped under the blanket, and checked Grindr.

No messages.

So he settled instead for scrolling through social media until he fell asleep.

Jimin spent the whole Sunday studying and watching TV with his mom.

He also kept opening his chat with goldenboy109, wondering why he was so quiet, why he never answered his messages.

Eventually, he grew too curious, nervous, and impatient and decided to text him.

calicocat13

hey

u stopped replying

everything ok?

He waited with a pounding heart. He tried to distract himself with a book, then social media, then started pacing his room until his phone finally—finally—pinged.

goldenboy109

sorry

i got busy

how was the party?

Jimin bit his bottom lip. He felt so stupid. Obviously, he was no one in goldenboy109’s life—just a guy he talked to online—so he shouldn’t be surprised if he had better things to do than text him.

But still, it stung.

calicocat13

a little boring

it wasn’t really my crowd

i was just there for a friend

goldenboy109

not ur crowd?

wdym?

calicocat13

we celebrated the win of the baseball team

goldenboy109

what’s wrong with that?

calicocat13

nothing

except i hate one of the players

goldenboy109

which one?

calicocat13

Jungkook

There was a long pause, and Jimin wondered if he had said something wrong. Sure, he knew goldenboy109 was going to the same school, but he had told him he wasn’t on the baseball team, so it felt safe to admit he hated Jungkook.

goldenboy109

why do u h8 him?

calicocat13

he’s a bully

and yeah, sure, he’s popular n handsome

but he’s an asshole

n i hate ppl like him

goldenboy109

u think he’s handsome?

Jimin hesitated. He started typing several answers but deleted all of them. Should he be honest? Should he lie? He could find someone he hated attractive, right? It wasn’t like anything would ever happen with Jungkook anyway. He was straight, had a girlfriend, and hated Jimin’s guts.

calicocat13

i mean looks aren’t everything

but objectively

yeah he’s handsome

goldenboy109

like

is he ur type?

Again, Jimin hesitated. He didn’t know what goldenboy109 looked like. What if he looked nothing like Jungkook and felt rejected because Jimin admitted Jungkook was his type? But then again, most people had a type yet ended up dating very different-looking people. It was fine.

goldenboy109

u can be honest

promise i won’t be jealous

calicocat13

haha

well

yes

he’s my type

but he’s got nothing on u

goldenboy109

u’ve never met me

calicocat13

i know but

ur nice n kind n funny n smart

he’s just a baseball player

n a bully

goldenboy109

maybe u just got off on the wrong foot

calicocat13

nah

that’s just how it is

idc

goldenboy109

bullies r often hurt ppl

calicocat13

sure

but that doesn’t excuse hurting others

There was another long pause, and Jimin wondered if he had said something wrong. After all, he didn’t know goldenboy109, for all Jimin knew, he could be a bully too. But no, goldenboy109 had been nothing but kind and sweet.

He was nothing like Jungkook.

goldenboy109

i’m not defending him

but

sometimes ppl suffer alone

n the only way to xpress all this pain is in sharing it

Jimin stared at his phone, reading the message over and over again.

And then the impossible happened.

For just a second, no more than the span of a breath, he felt bad for Jungkook and wondered what hurt him so deeply that he would take it out on others.

calicocat13

ur sayin it’s a cry 4 help

goldenboy109

could be

Jimin thought about it.

Jungkook—the handsome, successful, popular player of the baseball team. The guy who seemed to have it all. A bright future was waiting for him, and yet… he was hurting. And Jimin wondered what could possibly break someone like Jungkook.

Jimin was a lot of things, but heartless wasn’t one of them. He had always felt other people’s emotions—deeply, whether good or bad.

And although nothing could ever justify bullying, he also knew that sometimes, someone had to be the bigger person.

calicocat13

congratulations

now i’m feelin bad 4 him

goldenboy109

haha

u don’t hav 2

he was still an ass to u

They kept talking for most of the evening, the conversation drifting to lighter topics—music, mostly, and their favorite hobbies.

But when Jimin turned off the light to go to sleep that night, his thoughts were filled with Jungkook.

Chapter 2 Notes:

Happy Friday~
Back with chapter 2 🥳
I must say, I have a lot of fun writing this story, young Jikook is sweet haha especially with the texting ^^
Anyway, things start getting serious in this chapter, so a lot happens! 🤐
As usual, enjoy!

PS1: I added a moodboard in chapter 1 (I completely forgot last week 🤦🏻‍♀️)
PS2: I updated the tags to more accurately reflect what's coming as I write the next chapters

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

It was becoming an obsession.

Jungkook tried to fight it. He tried to reason with himself—this wasn’t going to go anywhere, this was foolish, a waste of time, dangerous—but at the end of the day, he always surrendered and texted Jimin.

An obsession?

Try an addiction.

Now, at every practice, he waited with a pounding heart for Jimin to show up. But most of the time, Hoseok showed up alone or with Cassie.

He searched for him in the hallways, in the cafeteria, everywhere, but Jimin was avoiding him, and it was becoming painfully clear he was chasing a ghost.

And the longer time passed—the more he kept up that masquerade on Grindr—the less possible it seemed that he could ever come clean and tell Jimin the truth.

That day after practice, he waited for the locker room to empty before turning to Taehyung.

“So,” he started, then stopped to clear his throat and find his words. “Are you friends with Hoseok?”

Taehyung glanced sideways at him as he buttoned up his jeans.

“Come on,” he snorted. “You can’t be that blind.”

“So you and him…?”

“Yeah, me and Hoseok, Hoseok and me—it’s a thing.”

“Okay, cool…” Jungkook nodded, gaze averted. He felt stupid. He didn’t know what to say. Or rather, he knew what he wanted to say but couldn’t find the right words until Taehyung swung his bag over his shoulder and headed for the door.

“What about Jimin?”

Taehyung stopped to look at him, surprise and incomprehension written all over his face.

“What about Jimin?”

Fuck. He hadn’t thought this through. What about Jimin, indeed?

“I haven’t seen him in a while, like…” Jungkook paused, flushing all the way down his neck when Taehyung raised an eyebrow at him, a grin tugging at his mouth. “Is he okay?”

Taehyung snorted. “Jimin’s fine. Hoseok just doesn’t need a wingman anymore.”

Jungkook nodded, but that was when he realized a part of him had hoped Jimin came to the practice field to see him. Not just to show support for his friend.

Jimin had admitted Jungkook was his type, it was then fair to assume Jimin had come for him, to watch him play. The disappointment stung. He felt foolish again. Jimin hated him—maybe even feared him—so why would he ever want to be anywhere near him?

“See you tomorrow,” Taehyung said as he opened the door, and all Jungkook could muster was a grunt.

He sat there, staring at the tiled floor, his thoughts a mess.

He had to stop texting Jimin. Block him, delete their chat, delete his account, move on. Ghosting him was the worst—undignified and cowardly—but it was the only solution.

Or…

He could come clean.

Tell him he was goldenboy109. It would take Jimin some time to reconcile the idea of goldenboy109 with Jungkook, but maybe, with time, things would get better.

Eventually, Jungkook gathered his stuff, shoved everything into his bag, and went home.

That night, lying in his bed, Jungkook texted Jimin.

Again.

He couldn’t resist the urge—the need—to talk to him. Jimin felt safe. He never judged, he was kind and understanding, and with him, Jungkook could lay himself bare, put everything out in the open, and Jimin would accept it all. Always.

They had been talking for weeks now and, despite never asking outright, Jimin had been hinting at meeting.

Jungkook always deflected.

goldenboy109

hey

calicocat13

hey :)

goldenboy109

question

how many bf did u hav

calicocat13

honest?

just 1

goldenboy109

Trevor?

calicocat13

lmao

goldenboy109

someone else?

calicocat13

yeah

in my previous school

goldenboy109

how long?

calicocat13

we met in 10th grade

dated all thru 11th grade

until i moved out with my mother

goldenboy109

wow

that’s like

a long time

calicocat13

not really

just a little over a year

i meant to ask…

Jungkook held his breath, dreading the next text.

goldenboy109

yeah?

calicocat13

why r u on the app?

r u like

just exploring

or looking for something?

Jungkook knew where this was going, and he was unprepared for the conversation. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing and lose what he had with Jimin, but he also didn’t want to give him false hope.

So he did the only thing he knew to do with Jimin—be honest.

goldenboy109

i told u i only just recently realized i was into guys

no one knows

n i never had a bf or kissed a boy

i’m trying to take things slow

He waited. And waited. And, unsurprisingly, Jimin—ever kind Jimin—replied with all the warmth Jungkook didn’t deserve.

calicocat13

slow is good 🙂

i’ve been there

u need to do things in ur own time

Jungkook looked up at his ceiling, chest tight. He decided to change the topic to avoid going any deeper.

goldenboy109

[liked calicocat13 message “u need to do things in ur own time”]

i’m curious about something

calicocat13

yeah?

goldenboy109

how’s the sex?

calicocat13

u mean

with a guy?

goldenboy109

yeah

calicocat13

great

if u trust n respect each other

goldenboy109

n have u ever…

with a girl i mean

calicocat13

i tried once

didn’t really enjoy it

goldenboy109

n do u like

u know

the top or bottom thing

calicocat13

lolololol

i thought it was obvious

goldenboy109

how could it be obvious?

calicocat13

the pictures i sent u were pretty explicit

goldenboy109

mine 2…

calicocat13

no i mean

whatever

bottom

Jungkook’s brain short-circuited at that. He had suspected Jimin was a bottom, but seeing it spelled out in full letters on his phone was… exhilarating, to say the least. Suddenly, all kinds of fantasies rushed through his mind, and he felt dizzy with them.

calicocat13

[sent attachment]

Jungkook rushed to open the picture.

His cock hardened in record time when he saw Jimin fully naked, standing in front of his bathroom mirror. The light caught every curve of his back and ass, and he was angled just right so Jungkook could glimpse the tip of his hard cock. It was smaller than his, and the head was a soft dusty pink, the same shade as his nipples.

And Jungkook was enthralled.

He thought he had never seen anything so pretty.

It took him forever to tear his gaze away from the picture long enough to snap one of his own.

It was less artful, more blunt.

goldenboy109

[sent attachment]

calicocat13

i don’t think i’ll ever get over how big u r

goldenboy109

still wanna bounce on it?

calicocat13

fuck yeah

Jungkook gripped his throbbing cock. He couldn’t wait, couldn’t stop himself from imagining Jimin astride him, thick thighs spread wide, his small flushed cock dripping onto Jungkook’s skin as he moved up and down.

He swallowed back a moan, his hand working over his length.

goldenboy109

i wish i could feel u around me

ur perfect ass swallowing me

i’m so fuckin hard rn

calicocat13

how would u want me?

goldenboy109

in all the ways i can

on ur back

on ur 4

under

on top

sideways

idfc

as long as i get to hav u

calicocat13

fuck

i can’t believe u’ve never had sex with a guy before

Neither with a girl, but Jungkook was nowhere close to admitting that.

goldenboy109

r u touching yourself?

calicocat13

with all the things u said

how can i not?

goldenboy109

i wish i could c

Jungkook kept working his hard length, palm squeezing around the swollen head, thumb gliding over the slick slit, teasing himself with slow, deliberate strokes. He was so far gone he barely noticed how ragged his breathing had become. It was only when his phone buzzed against the sheets that he realized he’d let himself get lost in the pleasure, untethered for a minute too long.

calicocat13

[sent attachment]

It was a video.

A video of Jimin.

Jimin with his fist wrapped tight around his small cock, jerking himself in steady, desperate strokes, his length dripping slick all over his fingers. And the worst—or best—part: it had sound.

Sweet, breathless gasps. High, needy moans. Jimin’s voice, trembling and raw, and the rustling of the sheets beneath him.

Jungkook’s orgasm detonated before he even had time to process it, pleasure ripping through him so violently that his vision blanked for a second. His head spun, flooded with the sounds Jimin was making, with the sight of him gasping as he came in the video.

On-screen, pearls of creamy white cum spilled across Jimin’s stomach, his flushed cockhead glistening as it spilled the last of it. Jungkook forced his heavy-lidded eyes to stay open, to watch every second of it, even as his own body surrendered again. Another wave of heat coursed through him, and his cock twitched in his fist, spilling the last of his own release in trembling aftershocks.

It took him a minute to pull himself together.

goldenboy109

fuck baby

that was so hot

Then Jungkook’s mind freed itself from its post-orgasm haze and he read his text.

goldenboy109

fuck sorry

is it weird i call u that?

Again, he waited, with a pounding heart, until—

calicocat13

it’s not weird :)

“Yeah, it is fucking weird,” Hoseok said flatly when Jimin told him the next day, his nose wrinkling in mild disgust as he leaned back in his chair. The cafeteria was full, and they were trying to keep their voices low.

“No, I think it was sweet,” Jimin countered softly, fiddling with the edge of his sleeve as if to shield himself from Hoseok’s bluntness.

“It’d be sweet if you’d actually met the guy.”

“We’re getting there,” Jimin replied, his voice quiet but steady, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of hesitation.

“When? It’s been like a month,” Hoseok pressed, incredulous, tilting his head as though daring Jimin to defend himself.

“Five weeks, actually,” Jimin corrected, almost sheepishly, though a tiny defiant smile tugged at his lips. “We’re just… taking our time.”

“Oh honey, that’s not taking your time, that’s stalling,” Hoseok shot back, wagging a finger at him like a disapproving aunt. “And that’s a huge fucking red flag.”

“It’s not like I invited him on a date either,” Jimin argued, his shoulders hunching slightly as if to make himself smaller under Hoseok’s scrutiny.

“No, but you suggested it, right?” Hoseok pressed, narrowing his eyes as he leaned in.

“Yeah, I guess,” Jimin admitted reluctantly, chewing on his bottom lip.

“I’m telling you, something’s wrong,” Hoseok insisted, his tone sharp but not unkind.

“He said he wanted to take his time…” Jimin murmured, more to himself than to Hoseok, as if repeating the words might make them sound more reasonable.

“And wait until when?” Hoseok asked, leaning over the table to get closer to Jimin. “Sweetheart, you’re wasting your best years on a closeted, possibly ugly, and definitely pathetic guy. It’s time to move on.”

Hoseok was right. Of course he was. Jimin knew it—they had waited long enough. But knowing it didn’t make it easier. He didn’t know how to bring it up anymore without sounding desperate or pushing too hard.

“Enough about me,” Jimin said quickly, eager to shift the spotlight. “What about you and Taehyung?”

At the mention of Taehyung’s name, Hoseok’s entire demeanor shifted. His bravado melted, his cheeks flushed pink, and he grinned shyly as his gaze dropped to the floor, suddenly bashful like a virgin teenager.

“We kissed,” he finally admitted in a breath so soft it was almost a confession.

Jimin’s face lit up with a smile. “Are you guys together now?”

“I think so,” Hoseok replied thoughtfully, eyes darting away as though he were still working it out himself. “We haven’t said it in those exact terms, but… I guess it was implied?”

Jimin made a face, chin tilted, his gaze sharp and unmistakable. Hoseok let out a long, theatrical sigh.

“Fine,” he said, relenting with a little shake of his head. “Okay, I’ll talk to him.” Then he jabbed a finger in Jimin’s direction, tone warning. “But just so we’re clear—Taehyung is not goldenboy109. He’s not closeted, and he’s definitely not leading me on.”

Jimin snorted, lips twitching into a smirk.

It was after practice.

Jungkook left the locker room, hair still damp from the shower and gym bag slung over his shoulder.

He waved at his teammates in passing, lingered a second on Taehyung—toweling off his messy curls—and then stepped out into the hallway. The fluorescent lights buzzed above, harsh and unflattering, and Jungkook squinted as he made his way toward the parking lot. He walked past Hoseok and offered a nod, and Hoseok replied with a smile.

He was heading for his car when he stopped short.

Jimin was there.

Leaning casually against Taehyung’s car, hands buried in his pockets, gaze lowered to the cracked asphalt. Jungkook’s pulse spiked instantly.

The glow from the streetlight washed over Jimin, catching in his ash-blond hair, softening the sharp lines of his bomber jacket and the slouch of his loose jeans. He looked achingly beautiful, soft and almost untouchable in the golden haze.

He thought about the video. Jimin’s video. That damn, fucking video—probably the hottest thing he’d ever watched. He stumbled, his sneakers catching on something on the ground, and quickly righted himself.

At the sound of footsteps, Jimin glanced up. His reaction was immediate—pushing off the car to face Jungkook, eyes guarded.

“I’m waiting for Hoseok,” he blurted, defensive. Guilt immediately pulled at Jungkook’s chest.

“I know.”

He hesitated, caught between the urge to speak and the awareness that Jimin was braced for a fight. This wasn’t the place for apologies, but leaving felt impossible. He stepped closer—only to freeze when Jimin recoiled.

“About what I said at the party—”

“I know. Stay the fuck away from you. Got it.” Jimin’s voice was clipped, cold. “Again, I’m just waiting for my friend.”

The words knotted Jungkook’s throat. His chest was tight, aching with guilt and things unsaid. He opened his mouth—ready to say anything that might soften Jimin—when the gym doors banged open and half his team spilled out, loud and careless as they waved their goodbyes.

Jimin’s gaze stayed wary, shifting only when Taehyung appeared with Hoseok at his side. They approached, Hoseok giving the pair a quick, curious glance.

“Hey, Jimin.” Taehyung’s smile was easy, and Jimin returned it.

Then Taehyung turned to Jungkook. “We’re grabbing burgers. Wanna come?”

Jimin’s protest was already forming, but Jungkook cut him off.

“Yeah, sure. I could eat.”

“Great. We’re going to Harvey’s on Queen. Meet you there?”

Jungkook nodded, already moving toward his car as the others piled into Taehyung’s.

The drive was only ten minutes—just enough time for Jungkook to realize how dumb this decision was, not enough to come up with a plan. Neon signs blurred past as he pulled into the drive-thru line behind Taehyung’s car, phone buzzing with Taehyung’s message: they’d order to go and head to Woodbine beach park.

Another ten minutes and they regrouped in the park, food in hand. Hoseok and Taehyung were radiant with their own energy, laughing, teasing. Jimin trailed behind, quiet, his wariness clinging to him like armor.

They chose a spot under a large tree overlooking the promenade, the lake catching the colors of the setting sun. Naturally, Taehyung and Hoseok sat together, pressed shoulder to shoulder. Jimin dropped down beside Hoseok, leaving Jungkook the space next to Taehyung. But Jungkook chose otherwise.

He sat next to Jimin.

Jimin stiffened, heart stuttering as he scooched closer to Hoseok, but Jungkook said nothing.

Taehyung launched into baseball talk, Hoseok hanging on every word, eyes bright with devotion. Jungkook leaned toward them, listening, but his presence pressed against Jimin like heat.

Jimin tried to focus on his food, holding his breath, hoping Jungkook wouldn’t stand so close. He could smell the soft, clean scent of Jungkook’s shampoo, and felt his warmth radiating off him. His gaze betrayed him, flicking to Jungkook’s profile, the sharp line of his jaw, the round tip of his nose, the way the dying sunlight painted his skin gold. Too many times, too long.

After a moment, he decided to distract himself from the overwhelming presence of Jungkook and fished his phone out of his pocket to text goldenboy109.

Delivered. But no reply. No typing bubbles. He glanced up and froze—Jungkook was looking at his screen. Hastily, he shoved the phone back into his pocket, face burning, and forced himself into the group’s conversation.

Jungkook had felt the buzz in his own pocket. He knew calicocat13 had just texted him. He was curious, itching to check, but he didn’t dare—not with Jimin so close. Instead, he let himself study him, from the fall of his bangs to the orange glow of dawn on his milky-white skin, lips shiny with grease and salt.

His heart beat erratically, the need to touch overwhelming. He hadn’t anticipated the effect of Jimin’s proximity, seeing up close what he had only seen in pictures, and the desire clawed at him until it became unbearable.

He needed to distract himself from the images of Jimin’s naked body. And he needed to do so right the fuck now.

“How’s school so far?” The question slipped out before he could stop it, painfully mundane, and he cringed the second it left his mouth.

It took Jimin a second to understand Jungkook was talking to him.

“We don’t have to talk,” he replied, body going stiff.

“I know. I just—” Jungkook shifted toward him, lowering his voice. “Listen,” he said, softer this time, meant only for them. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve been a jerk.”

Jimin scoffed, eyes fixed stubbornly on his half-eaten burger.

“Can we start over?” Jungkook’s voice broke on the plea, raw and unguarded. For the first time, Jimin looked at him. Their eyes met, and Jungkook’s closeness hit him like a blow, heartbeat thrumming in his chest.

“Hey, guys!” Hoseok interrupted, his grin wide as he spun toward them. “What about a beach party?”

Jimin tore his gaze away, Jungkook sighing quietly beside him.

“A beach party?” Jimin echoed, skeptical.

“Yeah, like, for Halloween? Could be fun, right?”

Hoseok’s enthusiasm was contagious, Taehyung already nodding along. “We could build a fire, grill marshmallows, drink beers,” Taehyung listed eagerly. “Make the most of the season before it gets too cold.”

“It’d be like a campfire!” Hoseok added.

Jimin shrugged. He loved the idea of a campfire—just not the idea of the baseball team being there. Especially Jungkook.

“Sure, that could be fun,” he finally said, though even he could hear the lack of enthusiasm in his voice.

Jungkook nodded as well, “Yeah, let’s do it.”

They had finished their burgers, and Taehyung jumped to his feet, brushing his jeans.

“Come on, babe, I’ll drive you home.” He reached out a hand to help Hoseok up.

“Can you drive Jimin home too?” Hoseok asked Taehyung, though Jimin knew his friend hoped for a private ride with his boyfriend, to talk about making their relationship official, just like they'd discussed with Jimin over lunch, and probably kiss him once or twice.

Or more.

So Jimin got up and shook his head, “Nah, you guys go. I’ll take the streetcar home.”

“You sure?” Hoseok asked with a frown, though it was obvious he was eager to be alone with Taehyung.

“Yeah, yeah, you go ahead.”

Hoseok studied him for a beat before conceding. “Okay. See you tomorrow?”

Jimin nodded, “See you tomorrow.”

Taehyung was already heading to his car, Hoseok close behind, when Jungkook spoke.

“I can drive you.”

Everyone paused to look at him, only to realize he was talking to Jimin.

Jimin looked like a baby deer caught in headlights, eyes wide with surprise. “Me?”

Jungkook shrugged, feigning a nonchalance he absolutely wasn’t feeling. “Yeah, if you want.”

In truth, the thought of being in an enclosed space with Jimin made his head spin. But he couldn’t back down now. He didn’t want to back down now.

Jimin hesitated. He wasn’t a fan of the streetcar at night—usually swarmed with homeless addicts and drunks who, while often harmless, still made him uneasy. He’d rather be driven home.

Just… not by Jungkook.

“You should go with him,” Hoseok encouraged, smiling gently. “I’d feel better than knowing you’re out there on your own.”

Jimin looked at Hoseok, then at Jungkook, who had already pulled his keys out of his pocket and walked past him.

“Come on, I’ll drive you.”

Reluctantly, he followed him to the parking lot, saying goodbye to his friends.

He watched Jungkook round the vehicle and slide behind the wheel. Jimin took a deep breath before opening the passenger door and settling in beside him.

Jungkook reached out to turn on the heat. “Are you cold?”

Jimin glanced at him sideways, unnerved by Jungkook’s sudden kindness.

“What’s your address?”

Jimin gave it to him, watching as Jungkook typed it into the GPS. Then the car rolled out of the parking lot, and music filled the silence.

A familiar melody spread through the car, and it took Jimin a second to register it.

“Oh my God, I love this song!” The words burst out before he could stop them, and Jungkook smirked.

He knew Jimin loved this song—calicocat13 had told goldenboy109 so.

“Do you like this band?” Jungkook asked, pretending he didn’t already know the answer.

“I love them!” Jimin squealed, suddenly animated and bubbly. “I wish they’d go on another tour so I could see them. I missed their last concerts.” He started humming along, gaze drifting out the window.

Jungkook tried to hide his smile, but he loved it. Loved having Jimin sitting next to him in his car, loved hearing him hum along to a song he loved.

It felt good.

It felt right.

“I didn’t know you listened to that kind of music,” Jimin said when the song ended.

“I do,” Jungkook replied, taking a right at the next intersection. “What’s your favorite song?”

Jimin was inexhaustible. He fell right into Jungkook’s trap, babbling about his favorite bands and singers just like he had with goldenboy109, and Jungkook felt ecstatic.

He had just recreated one of their very first conversations on Grindr, and it worked.

Jimin was finally talking to him and letting his guard down.

The drive to his house felt painfully short. Jungkook parked along the sidewalk, and Jimin stilled, staring out at the small yellow light glowing on his porch before turning to Jungkook.

Reality crashed in. He realized who he’d been talking to for the last fifteen minutes, and a wave of excruciating vulnerability washed over him.

He reached for the door handle. “Thanks for the ride.”

But before he could open the door, Jungkook stopped him—a warm hand, long fingers curling gently around his wrist. Jimin froze, turning back toward him just as Jungkook hesitated, then reached out.

With his thumb, he carefully traced the line of Jimin’s top lip, down to its corner.

Goosebumps erupted across Jimin’s skin, his breath catching in his throat.

Jungkook stared for a beat too long before pulling away.

“You had—” he paused, clearing his throat. “F-food… salt, from the fries.”

Jimin nodded slowly. “Oh, huh… thanks.” He opened the door and stepped out, legs cottony as he bent to look back at Jungkook.

“Thanks again for the—huh… the ride.”

“Anytime.”

Jimin slammed the door shut, and Jungkook watched him rush to the porch, fumbling with his keys before slipping inside.

He had hoped Jimin might turn back. But what he didn’t know was that Jimin’s cheeks were crimson, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.

When Jimin got home, he rushed straight to his bedroom.

He was so preoccupied, so busy thinking of Jungkook, that he had forgotten about his text to goldenboy109.

In fact, he had forgotten about goldenboy109 altogether—until his phone pinged with the notification of a new message. But even as he saw goldenboy109’s name flash on his screen, his heart didn’t give the usual kick.

His thoughts were still filled with Jungkook: his dark, starry eyes, his soft scent, his silky jet-black hair, his golden skin, his voice… and as he texted goldenboy109 back, he couldn’t help but give him Jungkook’s face.

goldenboy109

hey :)

sorry i didn’t reply earlier

how’s ur nyt?

calicocat13

it’s fine

nothin special

what about u?

goldenboy109

nothin either

just chillin

Jimin wanted to talk to him. He wanted to keep the conversation going, to fall back into the comfort and safety of their exchanges. But his heart was still racing, his skin still burning where Jungkook had touched him.

A sudden exhaustion washed over him, and all he wanted was to collapse in bed and sleep.

calicocat13

sorry

i’m feelin a little tired

talk tomorrow?

goldenboy109

sure

sweet dreams

Now, Jimin was avoiding Jungkook for entirely different reasons.

He was restless.

He wanted to cling to his hatred for Jungkook, but flashes of that night at the beach park, and then their conversation in the car, kept crowding his thoughts. Nothing he did helped him stop thinking about him.

He didn’t say a word to Hoseok, too ashamed to admit what had happened. And when Hoseok asked him about his ride home, Jimin eluded the topic, sticking to a good old-fashioned “fine” before moving on to something else.

Thankfully, every time he mentioned Taehyung, Hoseok lost track of their conversation and rushed to gush about his newly official relationship.

Conversations with goldenboy109 were slowly starting to lose their appeal. Jimin just wasn’t into it as much anymore, and he resented himself for that. He blamed himself for getting sidetracked so easily by stupid Jeon fucking Jungkook.

He also blamed himself for not setting up that date and actually meeting goldenboy109. If only he could see him, put a face to the name, realize that he was real, and see that the amazing chemistry they’ve been sharing over the past few weeks was real—then things would be better. He was sure of that.

So he decided to take matters into his own hands.

calicocat13

hey

u at school?

He waited, hidden in a bathroom stall, for the reply to come.

goldenboy109

hey

yeah

calicocat13

can we meet?

Jimin held his breath, watching the three bubbles bounce at the bottom of his screen.

goldenboy109

now?

calicocat13

I know it’s a little last-minute

but

don’t u think we’ve waited long enough?

His heart was hammering so loudly in his chest he wondered if the person in the next stall could hear it.

Time seemed to stretch, the reply taking forever to come, until—

goldenboy109

meet me behind the bleachers

Jimin inhaled sharply. He locked his phone, shoved it in his pocket, and bolted out of the bathroom.

He reached the bleachers in record time and looked around, searching for whoever could be goldenboy109.

Palms sweaty, heart a mess, he stopped behind the bleachers, thankful baseball practice wasn’t scheduled for another thirty minutes.

The wait was nerve-wracking, excruciatingly so, when—

“Jimin.”

He swirled around, feeling as though his heart had stopped beating, only to find himself face-to-face with Jungkook.

“Jungkook?” He frowned, scanning the area for goldenboy109. Panic rose at the thought of being caught here with Jungkook—this could ruin everything. He couldn’t be seen with him. And he didn’t want Jungkook to know what he was up to.

“You can’t be here. I’m waiting for someone.”

“Jimin, I—”

Jimin stepped closer, pushing Jungkook toward the gymnasium. Jungkook obediently took a few steps.

Jimin was frantic. Jungkook was speechless.

This wasn’t going well. Not for either of them.

“You gotta go,” Jimin urged. His presence was going to ruin everything.

Jungkook grabbed him, forcing him still. His grip was firm but not painful, and Jimin realized Jungkook could easily overpower him—and that he had only let Jimin push him just now.

Slowly, Jungkook backed him against one of the concrete pillars under the bleachers. Jimin went pliantly, too stunned to react. And besides, there was nothing he could do against Jungkook’s strength.

“I’m waiting for someone,” he repeated weakly, feeling Jungkook crowding him. He looked up into his eyes and waited. Jungkook was standing close—too close—to him. Breathing became difficult, and he held it, lest he was going to drown in that clean, cottony smell. Jungkook seemed on the verge of speaking, but nothing came out.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Jungkook finally said.

Faced with Jimin’s silence, he went on. “That night at the beach park—”

“I don’t wanna talk about this now,” Jimin deflected. “I told you, I’m waiting for someone.”

“Do you hate me that much?”

Jimin looked into Jungkook’s eyes, then behind him at the small path leading to the gymnasium, but they were alone. He might still have time to save the situation and get rid of Jungkook before goldenboy109 arrived.

“Why do you care? Didn’t you start the whole thing?” Jimin asked.

“I was a jerk to you, I know. I told you I was sorry.”

“You were a jerk for weeks. I just moved here, and you made damn sure I felt unwelcome.”

“I didn’t mean—”

Jimin pushed past him, freeing himself from Jungkook’s loose grip around his wrist, and took a few steps for some well-needed distance.

“Can you leave now?” Jimin asked, staring right at him.

Jungkook hesitated, but didn’t move.

Jimin groaned. “Fine.”

And with that, he left.

Jimin dropped his books on the table and plopped down on the chair next to Hoseok, looking utterly defeated.

“I need to talk to you,” he whispered urgently, and Hoseok looked up from his laptop, eyes widening.

“Okay?” His voice was surprised, unsure what had Jimin in such a frazzled state.

Jimin glanced around. Students were quietly studying, the library’s calm atmosphere broken only by the soft buzz of computers. He leaned over the table, bridging the distance between him and his friend.

“I asked goldenboy109 to meet—” he began, only to be cut off by Hoseok’s high-pitched squeal.

“Finally!”

“He stood me up,” Jimin deadpanned. The words landed like an ice bucket dumped over Hoseok’s head.

“What?

“He asked me to meet him under the bleachers, but he didn’t show up.”

“What?” Hoseok repeated dumbly.

“Do you think he saw me and turned around?” Jimin finally gave voice to his biggest fear—being rejected on looks alone, after weeks of building himself up and winning someone over with his personality.

His disappointment at not being able to meet goldenboy109 was bitter, but his heart was racing because of his conversation with Jungkook.

“No way,” Hoseok said quickly, shaking his head. “That’s impossible.”

“What then?”

Hoseok drew in a long breath, thinking. “Maybe something happened? Did you text him?”

Jimin shook his head.

“Did he text you?”

Another shake of the head.

“Maybe he got cold feet,” Hoseok suggested.

Jimin sat back, considering the possibility. He had asked goldenboy109 to meet out of nowhere, and it was very last-minute. Plus, goldenboy109 had said he wanted to take things slow. Maybe it wasn’t insecurity on Jimin’s part. Maybe goldenboy109 was the one who panicked.

But before he could work out a theory, guilt pressed on him. He had to confess the rest.

“That’s not all,” he whispered, lowering his eyes sheepishly to the table. “Jungkook showed up.”

“What?” Hoseok said for the umpteenth time, his voice rising above the library hush. It earned him a few sharp stares and one firm, “Shhhh!”

“He was on his way to practice and saw me.”

“I don’t understand…”

“We’re not exactly friends,” Jimin explained. “He was kind of rude to me at the school party in August, and he tried to apologize the other night at the beach park but—”

“Wait, wait, hold on.” Hoseok cut him off, narrowing his eyes. “What do you mean he was rude to you?”

Jimin swallowed hard, pulling in a sharp breath. “He threatened me and got a little physical—” Hoseok’s face twisted in horror, so Jimin rushed to clarify, “Just a little. To scare me, I guess. Or make his point.”

“He threatened you? Why?”

“Because I overheard a conversation about his girlfriend, and I guess he felt ashamed.”

“What an asshole.”

“It’s fine, he apologized—” Jimin stopped short, realizing too late he was defending Jungkook. What the hell was he doing?

“That explains why you’ve never been a huge fan of his,” Hoseok muttered. “Okay, but back to goldenboy109. Maybe he saw you with Jungkook, misinterpreted the situation, and left.”

“Maybe, yeah…”

“You should text him.”

“And say what?”

“Apologize, tell him you’d like to set up a proper date?”

It made sense. And yet, the idea didn’t sound so appealing anymore. He had acted on impulse, and for a minute it was exhilarating—but now the reality was crashing down on him. Maybe he wasn’t ready after all. Maybe he’d waited too long, built up his expectations too high, and now he didn’t know how to meet goldenboy109 without being disappointed.

“That is,” Hoseok continued carefully, “if you still wanna meet him.” It wasn’t a question, but there was definitely a lilt at the end of his sentence.

“Yeah,” Jimin replied, unconvincing even to himself. “Yeah, of course, I wanna meet him.”

Hoseok studied him for a beat, skepticism plain on his face, but he let it go. He turned back to his laptop, though his gaze kept flicking toward Jimin, who was desperately trying to focus on his History chapter but couldn’t process a single word.

That night, despite all his doubts, Jimin figured the least he could do was text goldenboy109 and apologize.

He refused to be the kind of person who’d just disappear at the first inconvenience or difficulty. Plus, he liked golenboy109—a lot. They’d had so much fun talking for weeks on end that he couldn’t just throw all of it away now.

So, after dinner with his mother and a hot shower, he settled on his bed and started typing.

calicocat13

hey

sorry about today

something came up

To his immense relief, the reply came almost instantly, as if goldenboy109 had been waiting for his message.

goldenboy109

it’s fine

what happened?

calicocat13

do u remember Jungkook?

the guy from the baseball team?

goldenboy109

yeah

the one who’s ur type

calicocat13

yeah well

he showed up

n i told u we aren’t on very good terms

so i had 2 deal with that

goldenboy109

r things ok now?

calicocat13

yeah

Jimin paused. His heart was beating a little faster now, and he wasn’t sure if it was because of his conversation with goldenboy109 or because Jungkook had been mentioned.

In any case, he figured it was now or never, to be honest.

calicocat13

i’m sorry i asked u 2 meet like that

i wasn’t thinking

goldenboy109

it’s fine

calicocat13

it’s not

we deserve a proper date

don’t u think?

He expected goldenboy109 to agree right away. It wasn’t a complicated question—the answer felt obvious.

But goldenboy109 stayed silent for a moment too long, sending Jimin spiraling once again into his familiar cycle of self-doubt.

calicocat13

u don’t want to?

goldenboy109

no ofc i wanna meet u

it’s just

i don’t feel ready yet

n i don’t wanna rush things

Jimin did his best to swallow his disappointment. What he wanted to ask was, When then? But he also knew how hard it was to take that step, to publicly admit you liked boys and wanted to date boys.

Texting and entertaining a relationship online was an entirely different story from facing someone in real life.

If goldenboy109 wasn’t ready to physically meet Jimin and take that next step, then Jimin couldn’t rush him.

calicocat13

yeah ofc i understand

goldenboy109

but i want you to know that

ur all i think about

all day

Jimin blushed. Hard. Butterflies bloomed in his stomach, and he couldn’t help the grin stretching across his face.

Maybe the magic was still there after all.

Over the following weeks, Jimin resumed his daily texting with goldenboy109 and stopped thinking about Jungkook so much.

He had accepted that Jungkook’s sudden kindness had thrown him off track for a moment, but Jungkook was still the self-entitled, very straight sports bro who had bullied him for a while. And sure, it might have sounded petty and juvenile, but Jimin was not ready to forget about it.

He was convinced they were better off keeping their distance.

And goldenboy109 was still the sweet, funny, attentive guy he liked so much. And yes, it was frustrating not being able to see him, but goldenboy109 made up for it with plenty of pictures of his incredible dick, and Jimin figured he could work with that for now.

Hoseok was waiting for Taehyung outside the locker room as usual and greeted his freshly showered boyfriend with a kiss, the scent of soap and shampoo still clinging to his skin.

“Hey, babe,” he whispered against his lips, and Taehyung smiled, eyes softening.

The door opened behind them, and Hoseok instinctively stepped back, gaze narrowing as Jungkook walked out, gym bag slung over his shoulder.

“Hey, Hoseok,” Jungkook greeted with an easy smile, but Hoseok only arched an eyebrow, eyes sweeping him from head to toe before deliberately looking away.

“Hi.” His tone was clipped, ice-cold.

Jungkook’s smile faltered, a frown tugging at his brows, but he said nothing. Taehyung, quick to pick up on the tension, pushed his boyfriend gently toward the exit.

“Okay, we gotta go. Bye, Kook!” he called cheerfully over his shoulder as they walked out and into the parking lot.

Once they were alone, Taehyung turned his head, watching Hoseok with mild curiosity.

“What was that about?”

“What?” Hoseok asked innocently, though the arch of his brow gave him away as he marched toward Taehyung’s car.

“You being extra cold to Jungkook.”

Hoseok waited until they were inside the car to finally turn to Taehyung, arms crossing.

“Your friend’s a jerk,” he snapped, irritation bleeding through. “Did you know he practically assaulted Jimin at the start-of-the-year party?”

Taehyung started the engine, hands calm on the wheel as he slowly pulled out of the lot. His voice, however, was far too casual for Hoseok’s taste.

“Yeah, I know. I was there.”

“What?” Hoseok squealed, scandalized, his voice echoing in the car. He looked so offended that Taehyung had to bite back a grin. He loved Hoseok’s dramatics, the way every emotion came out in full color. “You knew? And you didn’t say anything?”

“What did you want me to say?” Taehyung asked, genuinely curious.

“I don’t know—” Hoseok flailed, then abruptly shifted gears. His eyes narrowed. “I hope you defended Jimin at least.” His tone was sharp, almost threatening.

Taehyung chuckled, amused by the theatrics. “I didn’t. Jungkook’s brother did.”

“I can’t believe it. What an asshole, seriously.”

“He was drunk and upset and took it out on Jimin. It was nothing personal.”

“Huh, I beg to differ,” Hoseok shot back. “He’s been on Jimin’s case since the start of the semester. He fucking hates him, when Jimin is the sweetest, most adorable guy I know.”

“What about me?” Taehyung teased, wiggling his brows at him.

“Fine, second sweetest, most adorable guy I know.” Hoseok rolled his eyes, but the corner of his lips twitched.

A silence stretched between them before Taehyung added, as if thinking aloud, “I don’t think he hates him.” His tone was careful, loaded, and it instantly piqued Hoseok’s curiosity.

“What do you mean?” Hoseok pressed.

“I think Jungkook likes Jimin,” Taehyung said. “Like, really likes him.”

“Huh…” Hoseok blinked. “Isn’t he like… super straight?”

“Well,” Taehyung said, taking a left turn onto Hoseok’s street. “I thought so too, until I saw notifications from Grindr on his phone.” His lips curved into a grin, and Hoseok gasped, scandalized.

“Shut up.”

Taehyung only shrugged, smug, as he parked along the curb.

“You’re lying,” Hoseok accused, eyes wide, but Taehyung unclasped his seatbelt and turned to face him fully, expression earnest.

“I’m not. He was talking to a guy called calicat something.”

“Calicocat13?” Hoseok asked, heart pounding, excitement spilling over.

“Yeah.”

“Oh my God.” Hoseok slapped a hand over his mouth before yelping, “That’s Jimin. That’s Jimin!”

“Really?!”

“Yeah!”

For a moment, they just stared at each other, both processing the revelation. Then Hoseok suddenly leaned forward, eyes wide.

“Wait—so they’ve been talking for months but don’t know they’ve been talking to each other?”

Taehyung hummed pensively. “I think Jungkook knows.”

“How?”

“I don’t know, but the way he looks at Jimin…” Taehyung trailed off, thoughtful. “And he’s been asking about him lately. Like, why he isn’t coming to practice with you anymore or how he’s doing.”

“OMG, Jungkook likes Jimin!” Hoseok squealed, practically bouncing in his seat, then froze, gripping Taehyung’s shoulder. “Wait.” His thoughts tumbled out in a rush. “Jimin asked goldenboy109 to meet him, and Jungkook showed up. He showed up! It’s him! And Jimin thought it was just a coincidence, but Jungkook actually came to meet him and—”

He broke off when he noticed Taehyung shaking with laughter.

“What is it?” Hoseok demanded.

“goldenboy109? Seriously?” Taehyung wheezed, laughter spilling out.

“Yeah.”

“Oh my God, that dumbass.” He laughed even harder under Hoseok’s curious glare. “That’s so fucking lame!”

“That’s what I told Jimin!” Hoseok replied indignantly.

“That’s him, no doubt.” Taehyung was still grinning, trying to compose himself. “His mother calls him her golden boy. And he was born on September 1st.”

“Oh, that totally adds up.”

“Yeah.”

Silence fell again, both of them chuckling and shaking their heads in disbelief.

“So,” Hoseok said at last, mischief in his voice. “Should we help them?”

“Nah, let them figure it out on their own.”

“That could take forever.”

“It’ll be entertaining,” Taehyung smirked.

“Can we give them a push then?” Hoseok pressed.

Taehyung nodded slowly, a glint in his eyes. “I don’t see why not. Could be fun.”

They got out of the car, walking slowly to Hoseok’s front door, each lost in thought, when Hoseok suddenly froze, hand gripping Taehyung’s arm.

“Fuck.”

“What?” Taehyung blinked.

“I saw Jungkook’s dick.”

The following day, Hoseok made it his mission to convince Jimin to come with him to watch the baseball team’s practice.

“Why do you need me there?”

“Because I’m bored alone,” Hoseok whined in his cutest tone, hoping it’d sway Jimin. “We barely spend time together anymore.”

“I’m not the one with a boyfriend,” Jimin shot back, earning a wide grin from him.

“Come on,” Hoseok insisted. “We can talk, spend time together. I’ll even buy you coffee.”

Eventually, Jimin relented. He told himself he was going just to catch up with Hoseok and his love life.

Jungkook being there was of no importance.

At least, until he saw him jogging laps around the field, stretching afterward, and was painfully reminded how mesmerizing Jungkook looked in motion.

Jimin tried to focus on the warmth of the coffee cradled between his hands—courtesy of Hoseok—and stay engaged in their conversation. But he could listen and watch at the same time, and his gaze betrayed him again and again, slipping back to Jungkook.

“How are things going with goldenboy109?” Hoseok asked after a moment, when practice had started and players were scattered across the field doing drills and conditioning.

“Good,” Jimin replied, noncommittal.

“Still no plans to meet?” Hoseok asked, though he already knew the answer. Jimin shook his head, eyes on his cup. He quickly changed the subject and started talking about school, engaging Hoseok in a safer, more neutral conversation.

They were interrupted when Taehyung jogged over, boxy smile in place. He waved, then stopped at the base of the bleachers.

“Hey, guys,” he called. “Wanna try playing?”

Hoseok sprang to his feet instantly, already rushing down the steps to join his boyfriend on the field. Jimin rose more slowly, reluctant but unwilling to be left behind.

By then, most players were done stretching or were heading back toward the locker room. Taehyung and Hoseok positioned themselves on the pitcher’s mound while Jungkook lingered at home plate with a bat in hand.

“Jimin, go with Jungkook—you’ll be the batter,” Taehyung instructed.

Jimin glanced Jungkook’s way, wary, before sighing. He dragged his feet toward home plate, trying to ignore Jungkook’s soft smile and the way it sent his heart kicking.

“Come,” Jungkook coaxed gently, catching Jimin’s wrist and maneuvering him into position.

His hand curled around Jimin’s waist, nudging him slightly to the side so he was centered over the plate, then he gave a soft kick to Jimin’s foot.

“Feet apart, shoulder-width.”

Jimin shifted, aware of Jungkook’s larger frame pressing up behind him.

“First time batting?”

“First time playing baseball,” Jimin clipped back.

Jungkook chuckled, the sound warm, his breath grazing Jimin’s neck. He set the bat in Jimin’s hands and adjusted his grip, making sure his fingers weren’t too far apart. Jimin couldn’t help but notice the contrast—Jungkook’s big hands completely engulfing his smaller ones, golden skin against pale.

Jungkook pressed closer, until barely a sliver of air separated them.

“Eyes on the ball,” he murmured, voice low in his ear. Jimin shuddered, goosebumps running down his arms. “You’ll have to swing—” He guided Jimin through the motion, lifting the bat diagonally up to his ear, almost resting on his shoulder. “When the pitch comes, swing in a curve, and connect.” His body moved with Jimin’s, the two of them flowing together in a perfect arc until the bat cut through the air and ended on his opposite shoulder.

“Don’t hesitate to use your leg as leverage,” Jungkook added, giving Jimin’s thigh a gentle tap. “It helps keep your balance and adds power.”

Jimin nodded faintly. That was all he could manage. He was barely hearing the instructions—too lost in Jungkook’s nearness, the heat of him, the low rumble of his voice, the steady press of—

He stilled, throat tight.

Jungkook had stopped moving, holding Jimin in place, both their hands locked on the bat. And Jimin couldn’t ignore the hard press of Jungkook’s cock against his ass.

“I didn’t know baseball turned you on,” Jimin tried. He meant to sound cocky, but his voice came out thinner, shaken. He sounded far too affected, nothing like the kind of sharp retort that should have followed. He should've pushed Jungkook away, but found he couldn't move.

“It’s not baseball that’s turning me on.” The whisper was low, maybe not even meant for Jimin’s ears—but he heard it.

Jungkook took a steadying breath and, slowly, reluctantly, peeled himself away. Jimin dared a glance over his shoulder.

“You try now,” Jungkook said, voice tight, before crouching down into the catcher’s spot with a glove he’d scooped from the ground.

Meanwhile, Taehyung had been showing Hoseok how to pitch. He stepped back into position, Hoseok mimicking his stance before tossing the ball toward Jimin.

Eyes on the ball.

Bat firm in his hands.

Swing and—

Make contact.

The ball arced across the field. Jimin blinked, stunned, then grinned as pure joy burst across his face. He spun around to see Jungkook standing tall behind him, wearing a proud, almost glowing smile.

“I did it!” Jimin cheered.

“You did,” Jungkook agreed, smile matching his. “That was a great hit.”

“Don’t forget I’m an amazing pitcher!” Hoseok hollered from the mound, Taehyung already draped over his back, kissing his neck.

“Again?” Jimin asked, eagerness bubbling, and Hoseok nodded.

He missed two pitches but connected on the third, the same exhilarating thrill washing through him. And every time, Jungkook’s encouragement—his voice, his smile—felt like the best reward.

By the time they stopped, the field was empty and the towering floodlights had clicked on, flooding the diamond in bright white.

“We should go,” Taehyung said, jogging around to gather the stray balls. Jungkook joined him, scooping up bats and tossing them toward the dugout.

Jimin ran back to Hoseok.

“Wasn’t that super fun?” Hoseok beamed until he noticed Jimin’s face. “What’s going on? You’re like, bright red.”

Jimin tugged him closer to the bleachers, lowering his voice.

“Jungkook…” He stopped, cheeks flaring even hotter.

“Jungkook what?”

“He got a boner.”

“What?”

“When he pressed behind me earlier, he was… hard.”

“Shut up,” Hoseok hissed, but his grin was irrepressible. Inside, he was practically vibrating—he couldn’t wait to tell Taehyung later.

Jimin shook his head, eyes darting to Jungkook’s silhouette jogging around the field.

“I don’t—” He faltered, words choking off. “I’m like…” He turned desperately to Hoseok. “What does that mean?”

“That he’s hot for you,” Hoseok deadpanned.

“No, but—” Jimin’s thoughts tangled. His pulse was still racing from the game, from Jungkook’s touch, from everything, and yet all he could see now was Jungkook, laughing with Taehyung as they headed toward the dugout.

“He has a girlfriend,” Jimin whispered, the realization finally cutting through everything else. It left him dizzy.

“Maybe he’s not as straight as we thought,” Hoseok mused, feigning surprise—though he already knew about Jungkook’s Grindr profile.

They both fell silent as Taehyung and Jungkook rejoined them, still sweaty and laughing.

“We’re gonna shower and change,” Taehyung announced. “Do you guys wanna grab food after?”

Hoseok opened his mouth to say yes, but Jimin cut in too quickly.

“I can’t. I have to go home.”

He barely looked at Jungkook as he scooped up his backpack from the bleachers and waved goodbye—bolting from the ballpark as if his life depended on it.

Jimin felt guilty.

That night after baseball practice, when he was safe and alone under the covers, he masturbated.

And thought about Jungkook.

And he did it again the next day, and the day after. He did it every night for a whole week until it was Halloween weekend, and he had to meet everyone at Woodbine Beach for their campfire.

He hated himself for it—for fantasizing about a guy he was supposed to despise. Meanwhile, goldenboy109 was still there, talking to him every day, the only steady and comforting thing in the chaos his life had become.

After dinner with his mother, Jimin managed to slip out of the house and ride the bus to the beach. It was already dark outside, and he tightened his jacket around him to fight off the chill.

He approached the group, other students from his school were already gathered around a large fire, drinking from red plastic cups and cheering as they passed around bags of fluffy square marshmallows.

“Jimin!” Hoseok called as he threw his arm around him and hugged him.

As Hoseok led him closer to the fire and reached for a cup from the plastic bag on the sand, Jimin couldn’t help scanning the beach until his eyes found Jungkook. He was with other players from the baseball team, cup in hand, laughing.

Jimin’s heart skipped a beat.

He looked gorgeous in the glow of the firelight—shiny raven hair, eyes like a dark constellation, cheeks slightly flushed. He was wearing a baseball outfit and, although it was quite an unoriginal costume for Halloween, he looked so handsome in it—tight white pants and a light blue jersey—that Jimin couldn’t find words.

Hoseok shoved a cup filled to the brim with cheap beer into his hands, and Jimin cheered with him before drinking. Taehyung joined them, and they chatted by the fire, music blasting from a portable speaker with the soft lapping of waves in the background. It was a beautiful night, and after a few beers, Jimin started feeling glad he had come.

This all made him think of goldenboy109, and he quickly typed a text.

calicocat13

happy halloween!

wish u were here :)

Hoseok watched him and hid his smile behind his cup when he noticed Jungkook staring at his screen, grinning like an idiot.

goldenboy109

happy halloween

what’s ur costume?

calicocat13

a cat

goldenboy109

sexy

calicocat13

lololol

it’s actually not

it’s a onesie with a headband

Jungkook looked up from his phone to look at Jimin. He was indeed dressed in a black furry onesie with a round white patch on his front and a tail. The headband had two cute black ears sticking out of Jimin’s fluffy ash-blond hair.

He looked adorable.

goldenboy109

i’m sure you look stunning

calicocat13

i might send u a pic if ur nice

goldenboy109

🫡

i’m always nice

Jimin smiled and put his phone back in his pocket.

After a while, he made his way over to their small group and bumped shoulders with Jimin, who had been lost in thought, staring at the crackling fire.

“Need some company?” Jungkook asked, a teasing tilt to his voice.

Jimin snapped his head up at him, then glanced over at Hoseok and Taehyung, who were caught in a sloppy, giggling kiss behind Jungkook. He raised an eyebrow and smirked.

Jimin chuckled, shaking his head. “They’re terrible friends.”

Jungkook snorted, taking another swig of his drink. His posture was casual, carefree, and relaxed—probably the result of the few beers he’d already had.

“Nice costume,” Jimin teased, a hint of cockiness threading his words. “You’re dressed as… yourself?”

Jungkook turned slightly to show his back. “Bo Bichette, actually,” he corrected, voice matter-of-fact. Jimin rolled his eyes, a little amused.

“You’re really committed to baseball,” Jimin remarked, leaning just a touch closer, curiosity threading his tone.

“I wanna make it pro,” Jungkook replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Jimin blinked, realizing just how serious Jungkook was about it.

“If I don’t get scouted at one of the games this season,” Jungkook continued, his tone dropping into seriousness, despite the party raging around them, “I’ll apply for an athletic scholarship at a college in the US.”

Jimin swallowed hard; for some reason, that news unsettled him. “Why the US?”

“It’s the most common path to pro baseball,” Jungkook explained, shrugging slightly. “They have a well-established draft system. I’ll have more chances to make it pro there.”

“And then you’ll come back?” Jimin heard the hope laced in his voice the moment the words slipped out, but it was too late to take them back. Jungkook offered him a soft, almost shy smile.

“Probably,” he said, and Jimin felt a pang in his chest.

He fell quiet, nodding slowly. The thought of Jungkook leaving made him unexpectedly sad, and he hated the helpless weight of it.

“Well, good riddance then,” he said, attempting a joke—but it landed flat, and he didn’t mean a word.

“Would it, really?” Jungkook pressed, turning slightly to face Jimin and inching closer. His voice dropped, intimate, meant only for Jimin’s ears.

Jimin could feel his face flush, a hot prickle rising along his neck. He wanted to say yes, to stare right into Jungkook’s face and admit it would be a relief if he were gone—but instead, all he could do was stare. He reminded himself that Jungkook was straight, had a girlfriend, and that this was not flirting. And speaking of girlfriends—

“Where is Cassie?” he asked casually, tearing his gaze away from Jungkook and scanning the beach.

“I don’t know,” Jungkook replied, shrugging lightly.

“She’s your girlfriend.”

“Was.”

Jimin turned back to look at Jungkook. His heart thudded like a jackhammer in his chest, and the firelight made his skin feel flushed and warm. Or maybe it was just Jungkook’s presence.

“Jungkook!”

Jimin startled and turned toward the sound of Jake coming their way, followed closely by two other guys from the baseball team.

“Wanna skinny-dip with us?” Jake called, grinning mischievously.

Jungkook glanced at the dark, chilly water. “Nah, that looks cold.”

“And highly unhygienic,” Taehyung chimed in, finally peeling his face away from Hoseok, who looked thoroughly kissed-dumb and lost in bliss.

“Come on, it’ll be fun!” one of the other guys insisted. Before Jimin knew it, the three of them had Jungkook cornered, tugging at his clothes. Jimin giggled, watching them struggle. Jungkook was putting up a good fight, considering he was outnumbered.

“Kim, you’re next!” Roy warned, while Taehyung laughed, leaning against Hoseok.

A shoe thudded softly into the sand, followed quickly by another; the jersey was ripped open, the snap buttons giving way under the tug. And then—there it was.

A flash of dark ink splashed across Jungkook’s hip.

Jimin gripped his cup, heart hammering in his throat, as the jersey was ripped off entirely and Jungkook stood bare-chested, the tattoo that had peeked from under his waistband now fully revealed.

Jimin froze. Recognition hit him instantly, with no room for doubt. It was the same tattoo he had seen in goldenboy109’s pictures.

Jungkook was laughing, still fending off the others’ playful tugging, when his eyes met Jimin’s. His smile faltered, a frown knitting across his brow, and he looked down at himself. Jimin saw the realization wash over his face like a wave.

Jimin dropped his cup into the sand and spun around, heading toward the line of trees along the beach, desperate to put space between himself and—

“Jimin!”

Jungkook was coming after him. Jimin ignored him, forcing his legs to move faster, but Jungkook caught up and grabbed his arm, halting him in his tracks. Jimin jerked back, breaking free from the grip, face pale, eyes wide and glossy with unshed tears.

“Why do you have that tattoo?” His voice trembled, laced with hope that there might be some other explanation—a coincidence, a matching tattoo with a friend or a teammate. Anything but the truth that goldenboy109 was standing right in front of him.

“Jimin, I can explain—” Jungkook began, but with that single phrase, every shred of hope Jimin clung to evaporated.

“It was you?” Jimin’s voice was tight, strained. “You’re goldenboy109?”

Jungkook’s expression was contrite, his eyes full of guilt and pain. “Just listen to me—”

“You knew? All this time, you knew it was me?” Jimin’s gaze flicked to Hoseok and Taehyung’s silhouettes in the distance, but neither was coming closer. They watched silently from afar, the wind carrying fragments of Jimin’s voice while drowning his words.

“I didn’t know at first, I—”

“You made my life hell for months! Why? Was it a joke? To mock me? Bully me some more?” His voice cracked, a mix of anger and betrayal cutting through the night air.

“No, Jimin, let me explain, please,” Jungkook pleaded, reaching out. His fingers brushed against Jimin’s arm, a tentative touch, but Jimin recoiled as if burned.

“No! Don’t fucking touch me!”

Jungkook froze. His chest ached in a way he’d never known, the frustration and desperation coiling inside him. He wanted to do something, anything, to salvage the moment, to make Jimin understand—but he could see, painfully clear, that Jimin was processing the fact that the boy he’d secretly adored, sent messages and pictures to, and allowed himself to be vulnerable with over the past two months, was the same one who had humiliated, threatened, and bullied him.

“I don’t wanna talk to you. Ever.”

Jimin bolted, running as fast as he could across the sand until he reached the tree line. Panic and anger propelled him, his mind a storm, and he didn’t know how he was going to get home—Hoseok had driven him here.

When he finally reached the street, his composure broke completely. He sank to the curb, shaking, tears streaming down his face as the realization hit him fully.

Jungkook hadn’t followed.

Hoseok rushed after Jimin the minute he saw him leave. He’d heard his friend yell at Jungkook and immediately knew something was wrong. Leaving Taehyung behind, he ran toward Jungkook, grabbing his arm to keep him from following Jimin.

“What happened?” Hoseok asked, voice taut with concern.

Jungkook looked at him, lost and confused, clearly stunned by the sudden turn of events.

“Stay here. I’ll talk to him,” Hoseok said firmly before taking off after Jimin.

He caught up with him on the way to the streetcar station and called his name. Jimin turned, and Hoseok froze for a moment, struck by the sight of his friend’s tear-streaked face. The raw emotion there was heartbreaking.

“Jimin,” Hoseok murmured softly, stepping closer. Jimin fell into his arms, sobbing harder, his body shaking, and Hoseok tried to soothe him with gentle rubs along his back.

“What happened?” Hoseok asked again, his voice calm, encouraging.

“Jungkook—” Jimin hiccuped, voice trembling. “He’s goldenboy109.”

Hoseok inhaled sharply but stayed quiet, the lack of his usual theatrics catching Jimin’s attention. He had expected shock, surprise, exclamations, but Hoseok was showing none of that. Slowly, Jimin lifted his head from Hoseok’s now wet shoulder and stared at him, beginning to realize that somehow, Hoseok already knew Jungkook was the guy from Grindr.

“You knew?” he croaked.

“We only just figured it out,” Hoseok admitted, wincing at the weight in Jimin’s tone.

“We?”

“Taehyung and I.”

“So all of you knew and no one thought to tell me?” Jimin shouted, voice cracking. “Jungkook lying to me isn’t surprising—I expect that from him—but you? You’re my friend! I’ve told you everything, and you kept this from me?”

“It’s not like I’ve known for weeks—it’s only been a few days,” Hoseok said, defensive.

“You should’ve told me the second you found out!”

“Alright, okay, yeah, I’m sorry, I should’ve said something, but Taehyung asked me to stay out of it and I—”

“I don’t care about Taehyung! You’re my friend. You should’ve said something!”

Hoseok’s eyes softened, but then he fought back, his voice a little harsher, raw with frustration. “I don’t see what the problem is here. You’ve been pining over goldenboy109 for two months! You’ve been dying to meet him, obsessing over how perfect he is, meanwhile Jungkook is a fucking walking wet dream, and don’t tell me you’re not attracted to him—you couldn’t hide it to save your fucking life. And now you just found out that the two are actually one? It’s fucking perfect!”

“No, it’s not!” Jimin shot back, burning with shame and humiliation. He couldn’t stop thinking about all the pictures, videos, and messages he’d sent goldenboy109. Vulnerability and violation clawed at him, leaving him dizzy and rattled.

“Why not?” Hoseok prompted gently, trying to get him to breathe.

“Because it’s all based on a lie!” Jimin spat, voice raw.

Hoseok softened his tone immediately. “Jimin, I’m sorry. I truly am. I never meant for you to be hurt.”

Jimin lowered his head, trying to hide his tears, only to start crying again.

“But I think Jungkook really likes you,” Hoseok added, gentle, careful. “He didn’t mean to trick you or play you—”

“I can’t…” Jimin cut him off. “I need to go home.”

“Okay,” Hoseok said, understanding that giving him space was the wiser choice. “Do you need a ride?”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll get the next streetcar.”

Hoseok nodded, watching as Jimin walked toward the station. But he didn’t leave. He stayed to make sure Jimin got on the streetcar safely before heading back to the party.

When he returned, he found Jungkook sitting by the water, away from the ruckus, Taehyung beside him.

“What happened?” Hoseok asked, concern etched across his face as Jungkook lifted his head, looking like a mess.

“How is he?” Jungkook asked, pain evident on his face.

“Not great. He went home.”

“Fuck.”

“Jungkook,” Hoseok said again, insistent. “What happened?”

“He saw my tattoo,” Jungkook admitted. Hoseok frowned as Jungkook explained the pictures he had sent to Jimin and how Jimin had put two and two together upon seeing the same tattoo.

“Fuck,” Hoseok groaned. “How long were you planning on hiding behind a fucking stupid dating profile?”

Taehyung glared at his boyfriend, clearly signaling he shouldn’t kick a man when he’s already down, but Hoseok ignored him.

“Do you have any idea how happy Jimin was? How much he liked goldenboy109?” Hoseok continued, voice trembling slightly with frustration and exasperation. Amidst the chaos of the situation, the words tugged at Jungkook’s heart, offering a tiny glimmer of hope.

“You let things go way too far. You should’ve told him it was you.”

“I tried,” Jungkook said, defensive but desperate. “A few weeks back, he asked to meet, and I went there. I wanted to tell him, but he wouldn’t listen, and I—”

“You should’ve insisted,” Hoseok interrupted firmly.

“I panicked!” Jungkook defended.

“Hoseok,” Taehyung interjected before his boyfriend could go on. “Why don’t we all take a deep breath?”

“Give Jimin the weekend to process this and talk to him on Monday,” Taehyung suggested calmly, turning to Jungkook, trying to ground the chaotic energy around them.

Jungkook nodded, but Monday was both too soon and too far away.

Jimin got home and immediately blocked goldenboy109.

He deleted their conversation, removed the app from his phone, and crawled into bed.

But he couldn’t sleep.

His mind spun, an obnoxious string of thoughts all tangled around Jungkook and everything that had just happened. He thought about Hoseok, about the way his friend had said it was the perfect situation because the guy he’d been pining over on Grindr was the same guy he secretly had a crush on in real life.

It should’ve been perfect.

It wasn’t.

Jimin felt betrayed.

He hated that Jungkook had lied to him about who he was. He hated that Jungkook had strung him along for weeks, pretending he wasn’t ready to meet when, in truth, he’d known exactly who he was texting the entire time. Jimin hadn’t. He had been completely blind to it, never once suspecting goldenboy109 was Jungkook. And now he couldn’t stop wondering—would he have said anything differently if he had known from the start?

Then the memories came flooding back, every conversation, every cruel confession he’d made about Jungkook. The things he’d said to… Jungkook. How he’d admitted he hated him, thought he was a bully, and yet also confessed that Jungkook was his type.

And Jungkook had let him. No—he’d used Jimin’s ignorance to his advantage and twisted the situation to try to soften him. He’d pretended, coaxing information out of him, one by one.

And Jimin had laid himself bare. He’d given confessions about his life, his parents, his dreams. He’d sent pictures. Videos. Everything. He had given everything to goldenboy109.

And in return, he’d been handed a lie.

Jungkook left the party not long after.

He wasn’t in the mood to celebrate. Not in the mood to drink, or chat, or laugh with his teammates.

He wanted to be alone.

He wanted to see Jimin.

He had half a mind to get in his car and drive straight to Jimin’s house, to knock on his door until he gave in and listened. But Hoseok’s words stuck in his head—Jimin needed time. Time to process. And Jungkook was terrified that if he pushed, he’d only make things worse.

So he drove home instead. He shed his clothes, stepped into the shower, and stood under the water far longer than usual, trying to wash away the night. When he finally collapsed into bed, exhaustion heavy in his limbs, he reached for his phone.

He opened Grindr.

It was stupid. He knew it. Even if he texted calicocat13, there was no chance he’d get a reply. But still, he couldn’t help himself.

And then—

The chat was gone.

Jungkook’s heart leapt into his throat. He closed the app, reopened it, fingers trembling slightly. He hoped it was a mistake, but it wasn’t. The conversation with calicocat13 no longer existed.

Jimin had deleted it.

Jungkook felt the weight of the world crash down on his shoulders. His stomach churned, tight with regret and helplessness, his chest burning with a frustration he couldn’t release. He didn’t know what to do, and though it was late, sleep felt impossible.

Without their chat, Jungkook felt as though Jimin were slipping away from him, disappearing into nothingness. It was silly, he told himself. He could still see Jimin at school, could still ask Hoseok for his number if he really wanted it.

But the deletion of their conversation on Grindr carried a weight that felt final. As if a part of them—something fragile and intimate—had been erased forever.

He closed the app, dropped his phone onto the pillow beside him, and turned onto his side.

As he lay there, staring into the dark, trying to rationalize the mess, a few things crystallized in his mind.

Jimin had deleted their chat.

He had also probably blocked him on Grindr and deleted his profile.

Jimin now knew his ugly truth. Jimin was upset. Jimin hated him.

And Jimin could tell everyone at school, and destroy his reputation with a single word.

Jungkook pressed his face into the pillow, suffocating under the dread that tightened around him.

He couldn’t wait for Monday to roll around.

Notes:

Hope you liked this chapter, let me know your thoughts in the comments!
See you next week~

Chapter 3 Summary:

Hi everyone!
New chapter, a little delayed because of AO3 disruption yesterday.
I updated the tags, and there will be 5 chapters (instead of 4). I couldn't make it fit into 4 😅 sorry...
Hope you like it!

Chapter Text

Jimin was never a fan of Mondays.

And this one might have been the worst one yet.

The weekend had passed in a blur, or what was left of it anyway. Hoseok had texted him on Sunday to apologize and ask how Jimin was doing—and Jimin couldn’t be angry with him anymore. None of this was Hoseok’s fault. If there was one person to blame, it was Jungkook.

On Monday, he arrived earlier than usual to avoid the morning crowd and hid in the library. When the drill bell rang, he scurried through the hallways to get to his first class. He managed to go through most of his morning like that, slipping from class to class and successfully avoiding Jungkook.

During lunch break, he hid in the library again. Jimin knew better than to let his guard down, and yet, for a minute, he forgot about Jungkook as he was browsing through the quiet aisles of books. And so it was there, in the history section under the letter K, that Jungkook found him.

“Jimin.” The name came whispered, quiet and fragile, and Jimin shuddered at the sound. His grip tightened around the book, fingers white-knuckled. He took a step back. Jungkook looked paler than usual, eyes wide, devastatingly innocent. His chest rose and fell unevenly, and there was nothing confident or cocky about him anymore—only nerves, regret, and a flicker of fear.

Jimin shoved the book back onto the shelf and turned, desperate to escape, but Jungkook grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

“Please, wait,” he whispered urgently, frustration threading through his voice as the silence of the library pressed in around them, suffocating. “Can we talk?”

“I don’t wanna talk to you.”

“Fine, don’t talk. Just… listen to me, then.”

Jimin pressed his lips into a tight line and inhaled sharply through his nose. He was upset—that much was obvious. His pulse throbbed violently at his temples, his chest tight as if every breath cut him open. What Jungkook didn’t see was the erratic beating of Jimin’s heart and the ache spreading, gnawing at his ribs.

Jimin had spent the weekend trying to reconcile the idea of goldenboy109 with Jungkook. Merging the two—Jungkook’s behavior at school, the meanness, the harsh words and shoves with goldenboy109’s sweet, attentive, and understanding personality—felt impossible. Every memory tangled together like wires sparking against each other, leaving him restless.

And yet, the feelings that had started to blossom over the weeks, the shy spark of love he had carefully, almost shyly, cultivated, refused to die. They lingered stubbornly in his chest, heavy and tender all at once, like something he couldn’t uproot no matter how hard he tried. It was maddening to hold both truths at once—the boy who had made him feel small and the boy who had made him feel seen.

“Did you…” Jungkook hesitated. He could feel Jimin stiffen beneath his hand, like prey ready to bolt. Guilt pricked at him, and carefully, he let go, his palms damp, heart pounding as if it might burst. He watched Jimin the way you’d watch a wild animal, terrified one wrong move would send him running. But Jimin didn’t move.

“Did you tell anyone?”

Jimin’s eyes narrowed in disbelief. His chest burned with indignation as he whisper-shouted, “Are you for real right now? You wanted to talk to me just to make sure I kept quiet about you being gay?”

“No, that’s not all I wanted to say to you. There’s a million things I wanna tell you, but I… I don’t know where to begin.” Jungkook’s breath came short, ragged, heavy with anger and frustration—and something worse, a helpless sadness clawing at him from the inside.

“You could start by apologizing for lying to me.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I knew who you were, and I should’ve said something.” His throat felt tight as he forced the words out, each one laced with shame. Jimin was surprised by the ease with which Jungkook had apologized. He was expecting some reluctance, but there was none in Jungkook’s tone, only raw sincerity.

“When did you find out?” Jimin asked, voice carrying a hint of vulnerability.

“At Jake’s party after the game,” Jungkook admitted. His voice faltered, but he forced himself on. “You mentioned your cat to Roy.”

Jimin remembered that day at Jake’s. The laughter, the noise, the casual mention of Duchess, his calico cat. His stomach dropped. This party had taken place several weeks ago.

“And then?” he forced himself to ask, though the question lodged sharp in his throat.

“Then what?”

“Why did you keep texting me if you knew who I was?” His voice was fragile now, lowered to a mere whisper, heavy with cautious curiosity, and an ache that betrayed more than he wanted it to.

“Because I couldn’t stop.”

The answer cracked something in Jimin. It was raw, honest, heavy with unspoken words. He stared at Jungkook, the unexplainable urge to close the distance between them tugging violently at him, but he resisted. His chest burned with a confusing cocktail of longing and anger. He wanted the ache gone. He wanted the humiliation and betrayal scrubbed from his skin.

He wanted Jungkook to hold him and make it all go away.

“You lied to me,” he whispered eventually, throat tight with tears he refused to shed. “I trusted you, I told you so much about me—”

“I told you things too,” Jungkook rushed out, though his voice carried no fight. It wavered, small. “I told you about my parents’ divorce and my dad being gay. I told you about my insecurities, my dreams… stuff I’ve never told anyone before.”

It was true. And Jimin hated that it was true. In the middle of this big, ugly lie about his identity, Jungkook had been honest about everything else. That knowledge only made it sting worse.

“Now what?” Jimin asked at last, sounding tired, broken down. He didn’t have the heart to fight Jungkook anymore. His vision blurred with tears he refused to let fall. He couldn’t think straight.

“Can this stay between us?” Jungkook asked. His fingers, tentative, brushed the back of Jimin’s hand, as if touch could tether him, pull him back.

Jimin frowned. “What?”

“I don’t want people to know about us.” He had meant to add yet—the word sat on the tip of his tongue, desperate to escape—but it never made it out. His chest tightened, his throat closing around it, and in the silence that followed, the chance to correct himself slipped away.

Before he could fix it, before he could explain what he really meant, Jimin was already fuming, anger and hurt flashing in his eyes. Jungkook felt the sting of it instantly, like he had just slammed a door shut on the one fragile chance he’d had to make Jimin believe him.

“There is no us,” Jimin snapped, irritation flooding his veins. Frustration rose sharply in his chest—after everything, all Jungkook could think about was saving his reputation. Jimin felt foolish for having thought even for a minute that they could right and fix their relationship. And that brought humiliation to the mix of pain and anger he was feeling.

“Are you ashamed of me?” Jimin pressed, voice trembling. “Is that why you don’t want people to find out?”

“No. I’m ashamed of myself,” Jungkook confessed, shame twisting his gut. His throat tightened. “I told you I hated my father my whole life because he was gay and ruined everything for us. It’s hard for me to be… to admit that I’m—”

“Gay?” Jimin supplied, tone ice-cold, his jaw clenching until it ached. “It’s not a bad word, you know.”

Jungkook flinched under the accusation, the shame heavy on his shoulders, crushing him. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He didn’t want Jimin to think he only cared about people finding out. He cared about him. He cared too much. But the words wouldn’t come. He wanted to ask him to give him time, a few weeks, a few months, so that he could come to peace with who he was. But the words never made it out.

“Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me,” Jimin snapped, fighting off the disappointment and sadness drowning him.

And with that, he left, his steps echoing through the aisle like the final notes of something breaking.

The week passed in a painful blur.

Jungkook was drowning in shame, regret, and helplessness. Jimin had all but disappeared. He wasn’t on the app anymore, and at school, he had become a ghost, slipping through corridors with determination, making himself invisible.

Jungkook told himself he should give Jimin space, that maybe with time, Jimin would process everything and be more willing to talk. But every day that passed felt heavier, like sand slipping through his fingers, like Jimin was fading out of reach for good.

At least he still had his friends.

After relentless badgering—beers, pizza, video games promised, Taehyung pestering him nonstop—Jungkook finally gave in to the invitation to hang out at his place on Friday night. Deep down he knew it was a trap, a carefully laid scheme to drag him out of his room before he lost himself entirely.

And despite everything, it felt good. Good to step outside his house. Good to sit in the warmth of his friends’ presence.

Taehyung’s house had a basement his parents had turned into a playroom when he and his siblings were younger. Now it was their teenage cave: a sagging couch, a big TV, a closet overflowing with board games, a desk with a tricked-out gaming computer, a dartboard pinned crooked on the wall.

Pizza boxes were spread open on the coffee table, the smell of melted cheese thick in the air. Taehyung, Jungkook, Namjoon, Seokjin, and Yoongi sprawled around, each with a slice in hand, sodas and beers sweating rings onto the wood while a Wii game blinked paused in the background. They talked about school, college, baseball, Christmas plans, until—

“Guys,” Namjoon said around a mouthful of pepperoni pizza. “How was the Halloween party last week?”

Jungkook froze. So did Taehyung. Their eyes flicked to each other, Jungkook’s cheeks flushing crimson as images of that night on the beach, of Jimin, clawed their way back. The air shifted, all three of the older boys’ gazes narrowing in on them with sharp curiosity, intrigued by their reaction.

“What?” Seokjin asked, scanning their faces.

“Jungkook met someone,” Taehyung said, far too casually. Namjoon choked on his pizza so loudly Jungkook grabbed his napkin and hurled it at Taehyung.

“Yah!” he whined, mortified.

“Is it over with Cassie, then?” Seokjin asked, eyebrows raised. Taehyung nodded without hesitation.

“Finally,” Yoongi muttered.

“So tell us,” Seokjin pressed, leaning forward. “Who’s the mysterious girl?”

At that, Jungkook nearly combusted. His blush spread hot across his throat and chest, his silence stretching into something awkward and loaded. Yoongi squinted, trying to understand what could make his brother clam up like this.

“Tell them,” Taehyung urged softly.

“Tell us what?” Namjoon asked, frowning.

Jungkook’s throat locked. He stared at the floor, then at his brother, then back at Taehyung, who was watching him with steady eyes. Shame roared in his ears, but the words slipped out anyway.

“It’s a boy.”

Silence slammed down over the room. Jungkook wanted the floor to swallow him whole. He glanced at his brother, but Yoongi’s face was unreadable, too still. Namjoon and Seokjin exchanged a glance thick with meaning.

“A very pretty boy,” Taehyung piped in quickly, desperate to lighten the mood.

“I didn’t know…” Namjoon started, hesitating. “I didn’t know you were… like, into boys.”

Jungkook glared at him, defensive, but under the sharpness was a tremor. The truth sat bare between them. He hated how it had been forced out of him, yet—strangely—it felt good. Like a weight lifted off his shoulders. Their reactions weren’t explosive or cruel, just stunned. Neutral, even. And that in itself felt like relief.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Seokjin asked gently. No judgment, just curiosity.

Jungkook stayed silent.

And then Yoongi spoke.

“Because of me.”

Jungkook’s head snapped up. His brother’s expression was softer than he’d ever seen it, almost sheepish.

“Because of me and mom, right?” Yoongi pressed. “You didn’t wanna say anything because you thought we’d say you’re just like Dad.”

The tears came before Jungkook could stop them. He lowered his gaze, chest tight, shame clawing at him.

“But you’re not,” Yoongi said gently but firmly. “You’re not him. And I’d never stop loving you or supporting you because of who you love.”

Jungkook bit his lip hard.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed about,” Namjoon added. “You know our circle is accepting—” He stopped himself at the look Jungkook shot him. “I mean… you’re aware Seokjin and I are together, right?”

Jungkook nodded. Of course he knew, they were discreet about it but Yoongi had told him.

“And you know your best friend is bi,” Namjoon continued, glancing at Taehyung, who nodded enthusiastically.

“And I’m pan,” Yoongi added, tone flat as ever, like it was the most boring fact in the world. “Dated guys before too.”

Jungkook’s mind reeled. That he didn’t know.

The room tilted. He felt confused, relieved, and shocked by what he hadn’t seen.

“But you—” he began, voice cracking. “You never said anything.”

Seokjin laughed softly, amused by Jungkook’s sweet innocence. “You know your brother, always one to have secrets.”

He leaned forward with a smile. “So, who’s the boy that has you in an existential crisis?”

“You don’t know him,” Jungkook replied quickly, bristling, protective of what little he had with Jimin.

“Actually,” Taehyung dragged, “they do. They met him.”

Jungkook frowned.

“We did?” Seokjin demanded, grabbing Taehyung’s arm.

“You remember the guy Jungkook yelled at? At the start-of-the-year party?”

It took them a beat to remember. And then—

“Jimin?” Namjoon exclaimed.

Jungkook whipped his head toward him, eyes narrowing. “How do you know his name?”

“We talked for a bit after you left,” Namjoon explained, grinning. “I thought he was really cute.”

Jungkook felt he could combust with jealousy. But that comment earned Namjoon a sharp slap from Seokjin and it distracted Jungkook from his internal chaos. Namjoon grabbed Seokjin’s hand and brought it to his lips to kiss the palm in apology. Seokjin’s ears turned bright red as Jungkook stared at them.

“But wait,” Seokjin said suddenly, frowning. “You have a crush on the guy you—” He mimed choking someone.

“Hyung!” Jungkook whined, face burning.

“That can’t help your case,” Seokjin teased, and Taehyung broke into laughter.

“Oh, he managed to fuck it up even more,” Taehyung added with a smirk and Jungkook shot daggers at him.

“Some friend you are,” he accused and Taehyung laughed harder.

“What do you mean?” Yoongi asked, his curiosity finally breaking through his stoic mask.

And so Jungkook told them. Everything. The bullying, Grindr, calicocat13, the party at Jake’s, every messy, painful moment. Taehyung chimed in now and then, adding colorful commentary, but the room stayed quiet, attentive.

By the end, when he described the library confrontation, Jungkook felt hollow. Wrung out. Defeated.

“What are you gonna do?” Seokjin asked softly.

Jungkook shrugged, bitterness lacing his voice. “He hates me. And in a few months, we’ll go to college and that’ll be the end of it.”

“But… don’t you like him?” Namjoon asked carefully.

Jungkook gave another shrug, smaller this time, gaze falling to the floor.

His hyungs shared a look, quiet but full of understanding.

Of course he liked Jimin.

He liked him a lot.

In the weeks that followed, they didn’t speak.

They crossed paths at school now and then. Jimin had stopped hiding, stopped scurrying away like a cornered animal. Instead, he treated Jungkook with a chilling indifference, as if he were just another face in the crowd. Barely a glance. Barely an acknowledgment.

And somehow, that was worse.

Jungkook had meant what he told his friends, their time together was finite. High school was already slipping through their fingers, the countdown to graduation ticking louder every day. Pursuing Jimin felt pointless with that clock looming above them.

But that logic collapsed every night when his thoughts circled back to him, relentless and raw. He often scrolled through the photos and videos of Jimin, the ones he had sent him as calicocat13, giving in to the urge to see him, to relive one of those carefree, inconsequential moments when he was just goldenboy109.

It felt as though the rug had been yanked from under him. His journey toward self-acceptance had only just begun, and already it had stalled. And the cruelest truth? Jungkook couldn’t picture doing it with anyone else.

It was Jimin.

It had to be Jimin.

And yet, he was too insecure, too shy to try to talk to him again. So he kept quiet. And then Christmas crept up on them.

The holiday had never felt the same since his father left. The excitement was gone, the house quieter, lonelier. But this year, Yoongi had decided to pull everyone together, hosting a dinner on the 23rd. For once, the ache of their father being absent was replaced by warmth—friends gathered, laughter echoing, the scent of home-cooked food heavy in the air. For the first time in years, Christmas felt almost good again.

That night, Jungkook sat among them, flushed and content, tipsy on champagne bubbles, belly pleasantly heavy. He was in the middle of playful bickering with Taehyung when his phone buzzed in his pocket.

He pulled it out lazily, distracted, smile still lingering. Then—

Time froze.

His stomach dropped, heart plunging so violently it hurt. He blinked, once, twice, three times, convinced he was hallucinating. But the name stayed on the screen.

Jungkook shot to his feet so fast the chair scraped loudly against the floor. Ignoring the startled looks from his friends, he bolted to the bathroom and locked the door behind him, chest heaving, phone trembling in his hand.

calicocat13

hey

goldenboy109

hey

Jungkook waited, heart pounding in his chest. He hadn’t expected a message from Jimin—he was sure he had deleted his profile altogether. His mind spiraled with doubts. Was this a mistake? A catfish? Or was Jimin really texting him?

With no response coming through and too eager to let the chance slip away, Jungkook typed another message with shaky fingers.

goldenboy109

how are u?

It took a full minute for the reply to come, but when it did, Jungkook felt the vulnerability woven into every word, raw and unguarded.

calicocat13

not great

it's our 1st xmas without my dad

n my mom is kinda havin a meltdown

goldenboy109

wanna talk about it?

Another long hesitation. Another stretch of silence. Jungkook’s stomach twisted into knots.

calicocat13

can we pretend

for tonight

that ur just goldenboy109 and i'm just calicocat13

goldenboy109

okay

calicocat13

how's ur xmas going?

goldenboy109

we're havin dinner with the guys

my mom is not doing so well either

but it got better

with time

calicocat13

[calicotcat13 liked your message “but it got better”]

do u think everything gets better

with time?

goldenboy109

yes

There was another pause, and Jungkook stared at his screen, the laughter and chatter of the dinner with his friends fading into the background, completely forgotten.

He wondered if Jimin was still talking about their parents getting divorced or them.

goldenboy109

Jimin

i’m sorry

for everything

He spotted the typing bubbles and rushed to type his next message, eager to get it off his chest.

goldenboy109

i’ve lied to u

i did everything wrong

n i’m so sorry for hurting u

He paused, fingers hovering over the screen. There was so much more he wanted to say, but Jimin had stopped typing and Jungkook wanted to hear what he had to say first. A sudden knock at the door startled him, followed by Taehyung’s voice.

“Hey,” Taehyung called from the other side. “How long are you gonna stay in there?”

Jungkook left the safety of the bathroom and opened the door a crack. Taehyung was waiting with a slight frown, his expression both curious and concerned.

“Are you sick?”

Jungkook shook his head. “No, I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Taehyung pressed, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jungkook muttered, gripping the door tighter. Just then, his phone buzzed in his hand, and his heart jumped into his throat.

“Do you need the bathroom?” he asked quickly, trying to hide his impatience.

Taehyung shook his head. “Nope, it’s all yours. But we’re about to start dessert so don’t take too long.”

“Sure. I’ll be out in a minute,” Jungkook said, pushing him gently aside before shutting the door again.

With feverish hands, he unlocked his phone, desperate to see Jimin’s message.

calicocat13

i miss u

Jungkook’s heart leapt into his throat. He hadn’t expected that. It was better than anything he could have imagined, and he couldn’t stop the smile spreading across his face.

goldenboy109

i miss u too

calicocat13

it’s silly but

i miss talking to u

to goldenboy109

goldenboy109

it’s not silly

i miss talking to u too

calicocat13

maybe…

goldenboy109

maybe?

calicocat13

maybe we could talk sometime

i mean

if u want

No doubt about it—this was goddamn Christmas. Jungkook couldn’t believe what he was reading.

goldenboy109

i would love that

calicocat13

[calicotcat13 liked your message “i would love that”]

i gotta go but

have fun at ur dinner

goldenboy13

thank u

goodnight

Jungkook took a minute to breathe, forcing his heartbeat to slow before he left the bathroom and rejoined his brother and friends in the living room for dinner.

He was greeted with a chorus of exclamations, everyone impatient to move on to dessert.

“What took you so long? We’ve been waiting forever,” Seokjin scolded as he cut into the cake he’d bought at the local bakery.

Jungkook sat down with the biggest smile plastered on his face. Taehyung narrowed his eyes at him, suspicious, and Yoongi wasn’t fooled either, but neither of them said a word. Instead, everyone turned their attention to the dessert.

The next day, Jungkook got a “happy Christmas Eve” text from Jimin and sent one back.

They talked about their dinners and exchanged stories about their gifts. Jimin had gotten a new video game from his mother, while Jungkook had unwrapped a Blue Jays jersey—a Bo Bichette special edition.

Jimin teased him about his never-ending love for baseball, and Jungkook leaned right into the banter. He loved it. He had missed it.

They ended up sharing memories of their previous Christmases, when their families were still whole.

The day after, it was a “Merry Christmas” text, and Jungkook replied eagerly, his heart leaping every time Jimin’s name lit up his screen. The conversation was still a little shy, a little hesitant, not quite as natural as before, but Jimin was slowly warming up. And Jungkook was ready to be patient.

The day after that, Jungkook was at the mall with Yoongi, browsing for sneakers, when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He slipped away into a corner of the store to check the notification and answer it.

calicocat13

hey

what are u up to?

goldenboy109

at the mall with my brother

he wanted to buy shoes for boxing day

calicocat13

i’m at the mall too

with my mother

Jungkook straightened immediately, eyes darting around the store as if Jimin might actually be there.

goldenboy109

do u wanna meet?

Jungkook waited. And waited. But the answer never came. Disappointment settled heavily in his chest. He regretted rushing into it—suggesting they meet after only a few days of talking again. Too rash, too eager. He’d probably scared Jimin away. Or maybe Jimin was still too angry to see him. Or maybe he was just busy shopping with his mother. Either way, Jungkook felt like he’d missed his chance.

His brother called him over to the cashier, bags already in hand, and they both left the store, Jungkook’s steps a little slower, his mood a little dimmer. He had lost his enthusiasm for Boxing Day.

As they made their way to the next shop, a flash of ash-blond hair caught Jungkook’s eye. His heart stuttered, then stopped altogether. Without thinking, he shoved through the crowd, desperate to see—

“Jimin!”

Jimin froze mid-step, his head snapping up. His eyes widened as he scanned the crowd until they landed on Jungkook.

Yoongi trailed behind his younger brother, trying to keep up, as Jungkook finally stopped in front of Jimin. The beaming smile that broke across Jungkook’s face was breathtaking, so bright it made Jimin’s cheeks flush as he smiled back, shy and pink and utterly flustered by how handsome Jungkook looked, and by how happy he seemed just to see him.

“Hey,” Jungkook said, unable to tear his eyes away from Jimin, even with a woman standing right beside him, watching the exchange.

“Hey,” Jimin answered softly.

Another beat passed, silence stretching between them as they just… stared. Until Jimin blinked out of it and turned toward the woman next to him.

“Mom, this is Jungkook, he’s a—” Jimin faltered, and Jungkook froze, breath caught in his throat, waiting. “He’s a friend,” Jimin finished quickly, and Jungkook rushed to shake her hand.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Park.”

“Nice to meet you too, Jungkook.”

Up close, Jungkook noticed she looked a little pale, tired even, but still beautiful in a way that explained so much—Jimin looked just like her.

A low throat-clear from Yoongi pulled him back.

“Ah—this is Yoongi, my brother,” Jungkook said.

Yoongi gave Mrs. Park a polite nod before turning his gaze on Jimin, letting it linger in a slow, perusing way that made Jimin shift under the weight of it. Then, with a low hum of approval, he looked back at Jungkook, who was still staring at Jimin like he was the only person in the world.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Yoongi said evenly, watching the flush spread deeper across Jimin’s cheeks before his eyes flicked back to Jungkook. “Kook. Why don’t you finish your shopping with Jimin? I’m done for today. I’ll head out.”

For a second, Jungkook looked like he hadn’t understood a word. Then realization dawned and he nodded quickly, almost too eagerly.

Turning to Jimin, he stammered, “Yeah, sure. I mean… if you want to?”

Jimin glanced at his mother, who smiled warmly. “You boys go ahead. I’ll head home.”

Yoongi gave Jungkook’s shoulder a firm pat while Mrs. Park kissed Jimin’s cheek, and just like that—it was only the two of them.

They stood there, awkward, caught between disbelief and embarrassment. Jungkook was ecstatic, his heart pounding with the thrill of being alone with Jimin, until the memory of his unanswered message resurfaced. The realization cut sharply: maybe Jimin had ignored him on purpose.

“I didn’t mean to… To push you into anything. I huh… If you want me to go, I can—” Jungkook said quietly, guilt flickering in his eyes.

Jimin shook his head quickly. “No, no, sorry, I—” he stuttered, fumbling. “I didn’t reply to your message, I just wasn’t sure…”

Jungkook’s shoulders slumped, defeated, and the guilt in Jimin’s chest tightened.

“But I’m happy to see you,” Jimin blurted, and the hope that immediately sparked in Jungkook’s eyes was everything. Jimin wasn’t used to seeing that side of Jungkook. He was more accustomed to the bratty, overly confident, and dominating side of him. Not the insecure, hesitant one, and it reminded him of… goldenboy109.

“You are?” Jungkook looked at him like a kicked puppy, so earnest, so hopeful it tugged at Jimin’s heart. He couldn’t help but smile.

“Yes.”

“Are you hungry?” Jungkook asked, voice almost tentative.

“Uh… yeah, I could eat—” Jimin started, then remembered Yoongi’s words. “But didn’t you want to buy something first?”

“Nah, I’m good.” Jungkook grinned. “I think I can survive without one more baseball jersey.”

At that, Jimin chuckled. “Okay, let’s eat then.”

“Pizza okay?”

Jimin nodded, and Jungkook’s hand found his wrist. He tugged him gently but firmly out of the crowd, leading him toward the escalators. Jimin followed without protest, hyperaware of the warmth of Jungkook’s hand against his skin, the steady grip that anchored him.

They made their way up to the pizzeria on the top floor of the mall, one with a terrace. Choosing a booth by the windows, they settled in, with a wide view of the snowy city stretching out before them.

After ordering their pizzas, Jungkook reached for the water jug and poured Jimin a glass. “I’m sorry I interrupted your mother-son day,” he said, setting the jug back down.

Jimin took a long sip of the cold water before answering. “It’s fine. I actually had to drag her out of the house. I’m sure she’s more than happy to have an excuse to go home and wallow.” Bitterness slipped into his voice despite himself, but Jungkook only tilted his head, eyes steady on Jimin.

“So… not doing better since Christmas?”

Jimin shrugged, his fingers idly tracing the rim of his glass. “She’s pretty depressed. Christmas used to be her favorite holiday, but now…”

Jungkook didn’t press him to finish. He knew the silence too well. He knew how Jimin felt—he had gone through the same thing when his father left.

“Next Christmas will be better,” he offered gently. “She just needs time.”

Jimin nodded, grateful for the softness in his tone. “It just pisses me off so much. He used to be so mean to her—she should be happy he’s gone.”

“Maybe it’s not him she misses,” Jungkook said softly. “Maybe she misses the idea of having a family.”

Jimin looked up to meet Jungkook’s gaze. This side of him—this kindness, this understanding—was the part of him, of goldenboy109, that had made Jimin fall for him. It made him feel safe. Safe to feel everything he was feeling—anger, sadness, regret. Safe to say the bitter, ugly truths of his life without being judged, only listened to.

A quiet beat stretched before Jungkook drew a nervous breath. “I thought you’d deleted your profile.”

Jimin’s head lifted, a small crease forming between his brows.

“After the Halloween party,” Jungkook clarified. “When I saw our conversation was gone, I thought you’d deleted your profile too.”

Jimin lowered his gaze, cheeks warming with a faint pink. He didn’t regret what he had done—at the time, it was the best choice. It gave him space to cool down, lick his wounds and manage his anger. But now, sitting across from Jungkook, it felt foolish and useless to have tried to erase him like that. Jungkook couldn’t be removed from his life. Not so easily.

“I—” He cut himself short. When he looked up, Jungkook was watching him, gaze soft and patient, waiting. Encouraging.

Jimin exhaled slowly. “I thought about it, but I… I couldn’t do it.”

Jungkook leaned across the table, hand sliding tentatively closer until it rested near Jimin’s, not quite touching. “Why not?” His voice dropped to a whisper.

Jimin stared at him, then his eyes flicked to Jungkook’s hand, so close to his. He ached to bridge the space, to touch him.

“I didn’t wanna lose everything,” Jimin whispered, voice small, sheepish. His eyes darted away, but Jungkook’s gaze was a fire against his skin, searing him as if it were a touch.

Jungkook’s fingers brushed the back of his hand, light as air. Jimin’s breath hitched, and he tightened his grip on his glass, grounding himself, resisting the urge to just grab Jungkook’s hand and hold it tight.

He lifted his gaze again, only to find Jungkook still staring at him—with patience, with kindness, with something dangerously close to affection. A version of Jungkook far removed from the boy he thought he knew.

“I didn’t wanna lose you,” Jimin admitted in a rush of breath.

Jungkook moved to take his hand, but the waiter arrived with their pizzas, and they both jerked back as if caught doing something they shouldn’t. They thanked him, waited until he left, then looked at each other again—cheeks flushed, lips curling into shy grins.

This time, Jungkook reached out and didn’t hesitate. He took Jimin’s hand in his own, eyes locked on his.

“I’m glad you didn’t. I didn’t wanna lose you either.”

Jimin’s blush deepened, impossibly so. He looked so damn adorable, Jungkook thought—like innocence and shyness wrapped into one. The downturned eyes, the little smile tugging at his lips, the color blooming across his cheeks—it all made Jungkook’s heart stutter. It was hard to imagine that this was the same Jimin who had sent him photos and videos that would have made a porn star blush.

Reluctantly, he let go so they could eat. Conversation shifted to school and their friends, trading stories and laughing about Hoseok and Taehyung’s painfully obvious attempts at setting them up.

When they were done, Jungkook pointed at Jimin’s plate. “All finished?”

“Yes.”

Jungkook flagged the waiter down for the check and quickly pulled out his card. Jimin tried to protest, but Jungkook insisted, paying for him.

As they left the restaurant, Jimin turned to Jungkook, unsure of what was next. He could see through the glass ceiling that it was already dark outside.

“I don’t have my car, but maybe we can take the bus?” Jungkook suggested.

“Sounds good,” Jimin said.

They weaved through the crowd, dodging shopping bags and strollers. Jungkook slipped his hand into Jimin’s again to guide him, and Jimin ducked his head, hiding his smile.

When they finally burst onto the street, the winter air was crisp, their breaths puffing into clouds of white.

“This way,” Jungkook pointed, leading him to the bus stop. The cold bit at their skin, though snow had stopped falling. Under the shelter, Jungkook tugged Jimin closer without thinking, adjusting his duffle coat before realizing what he was doing. He quickly dropped his hands.

“Sorry, I—”

“It’s okay,” Jimin said softly, smiling as he reached up to fix Jungkook’s scarf. Jungkook went still, breath caught. Jimin had stepped closer, focused on his scarf, oblivious to the storm brewing in Jungkook. They’d never stood so close to each other before and Jungkook took in every detail: the pink in Jimin’s cheeks, the softness of his plush lips, the faint slope of his small nose… He clenched his fists. The urge to reach for Jimin’s waist—to touch him, pull him closer, maybe brush away that strand of ash-blond hair falling into his eyes—was dizzying.

He inhaled sharply, holding his breath when Jimin looked up, their eyes locking—

“Oh, here’s the bus,” Jimin said suddenly, pulling back, oblivious to the blush on Jungkook’s cheeks. He pulled out his Presto card and stepped on, while Jungkook scrambled to gather himself and follow.

They found two seats at the back. With their oversized, puffy jackets, there wasn't the slightest space between them, and soon they could feel each other's warmth seeping through. Jimin glanced out the window, then leaned back and closed his eyes.

Jungkook turned his head, studying him. He was fascinated by the pull, the raw attraction he felt for him. He had never felt this way before, not with anyone—not this desperate desire to touch, to kiss, to just keep looking.

He just couldn't stop looking at him.

He wanted to feel the warmth and softness of Jimin's lips against his own. He wanted to feel the suppleness of his skin beneath his fingers. He wanted it so badly he felt overwhelmed. Every inch of Jimin simply drew him in.

When Jimin’s head fell against his shoulder, Jungkook thought his heart might burst. He sat there frozen, proud and so stupidly full of joy, a smile stretching across his face. He angled his head slightly, breathing in the faint scent of vanilla in Jimin’s hair.

He wished the bus ride would last forever. But soon, Jimin’s stop arrived. Jungkook pressed the Stop button and gently nudged him awake.

“We’re here,” he said softly as Jimin blinked, rubbing his eyes.

They stepped off and walked down the quiet street to Jimin’s house.

At the paved alley, Jimin turned to him. “Thank you… for the pizza and everything.”

“Anytime,” Jungkook smiled, though his chest tightened with sadness, wishing he could make the moment last a little longer, even if only for a minute.

Jimin hesitated too, eyes searching Jungkook’s face, reluctant to part. Eventually, he stepped back toward the house. “Well, goodnight—”

“Are you free tomorrow night?” Jungkook blurted, reaching out before Jimin could slip away.

Jimin blinked.

“I have tickets for the Maple Leafs game at Scotiabank Arena and I was thinking… well, I mean… I don’t know if you’re into hockey but I thought it could be fun?”

Jimin smiled, heart fluttering. “Yeah, I’d love to go.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook’s face lit up. “Okay… yeah. Great. Tomorrow then?”

“Tomorrow,” Jimin nodded, warmth spreading through him.

“The game’s at six,” Jungkook added quickly. “And maybe afterwards we could… I don’t know, grab food? If you want.”

“I’d love to,” Jimin said again, giddy now. He hadn’t felt this excited about a boy since… goldenboy109.

“See you tomorrow, then.”

Jimin gave him a small wave, shy and sweet.

Jungkook waved back, cheeks aching with his grin as Jimin hurried up to his door. The second it closed behind him, he broke into the widest smile, unable to believe any of it was real.

He wanted to pinch himself.

Jimin spent the next day caught between excitement and impatience, counting down the hours until he could see Jungkook again. His mother noticed the way he hovered around the house, restless and smiling to himself, but she didn’t comment—just gave him knowing looks.

By five o’clock, he was finally ready, though it had taken him nearly an hour to settle on an outfit that felt both comfortable and cute. Blue jeans, a white sweater, and a cream jacket. He still wasn’t sure. Was this a date? Last night it had seemed obvious, but now doubt crept in, leaving him spiraling. He was still second-guessing his outfit when his mother called from downstairs.

“Your friend’s here!”

Jimin startled and rushed down the stairs. Sure enough, Jungkook stood in the entrance, his face breaking into a smile so big it made Jimin’s chest squeeze. He stepped closer, happiness bubbling up despite his nerves.

“What are you doing here?” Jimin asked, confused. “Weren’t we supposed to meet at the Arena?”

Jungkook faltered. “No, I—” he hesitated, almost uncertain. “I thought I could pick you up and drive us there.”

“Oh.” Jimin’s breath caught in surprise.

“I messaged you on—” Jungkook stopped himself, glancing past Jimin as though checking if his mother was listening. Jimin understood instantly.

“Oh, I must’ve missed the notification. Sorry.” He patted his pockets, realizing too late that his phone was still upstairs in his room.

“Maybe,” Jungkook began cautiously, “we could exchange numbers. You know, so it’s easier.”

“Yeah, of course.” Jimin took the phone Jungkook handed him, typed in his number, and pressed call to ring his own phone. Handing it back, he gestured toward the stairs. “I’ll just grab my phone and wallet. Be right back.”

“Sure.”

Heart racing, Jimin dashed back upstairs, collected his things, and checked his reflection one last time before hurrying back down. His mother was chatting casually with Jungkook, asking about their plans. Flustered, Jimin nudged her aside.

“Mom, we gotta go.”

“Of course.” She smiled knowingly. “Have fun.”

Outside, the night was already pitch-black as they walked to Jungkook’s car. Sliding into the passenger seat, Jimin felt a strange sense of comfort—like a memory resurfacing, flashes of that night after they had burgers on the beach coming back to him.

And just like then, Jungkook turned on the heater and played some music, filling the car with a familiar melody.

Jimin chuckled. “I still can’t believe you pretended not to know what kind of music I liked.”

Jungkook smirked. “I was trying to soften you up. You hated my guts.”

“You hated me too,” Jimin shot back, though his tone was playful, not biting.

“I never hated you,” Jungkook said calmly, and as he said it, he realized how much that was true. He was ashamed Jimin had seen that side of him—the angry, ego-driven, insecure side. And he had misdirected his anger toward Jimin when in reality, he was angry at himself. But he was going to make it right.

The words hung between them, and Jimin snapped his head toward him, searching his profile. But Jungkook kept his eyes on the road, offering no explanation.

Jimin stole glances anyway, cataloging the oversized jacket, the black hoodie underneath, the dark jeans and boots—so distinctly Jungkook.

“Who are they playing tonight?” Jimin asked, eager to distract himself.

“Detroit Red Wings.”

Jimin nodded, though the name meant nothing to him. He barely knew hockey any better than baseball.

“It should be fun. Hockey’s not like baseball,” Jungkook added.

“How so?”

“It’s faster. More intense.”

“What made you choose baseball then?” Jimin asked, genuinely curious.

“I like the precision. The strategy,” Jungkook answered. “And I still get to run.” His lips curved into a small smile.

Jimin mirrored it. “Do you skate?”

“Yeah, you?”

“Yep.”

“Good. Next time, I’ll take you skating.” He said it so easily that it startled Jimin—like the idea of a “next time” was a given. It made him smile, hopeful.

The drive downtown took them along Lakeshore Boulevard, the waterfront on one side, tall buildings glowing on the other. The CN Tower rose in the background, lit against the night sky. Soon they slipped into the underground parking and found a spot.

Hand brushing against Jimin’s, Jungkook took his wrist lightly as they cleared security and found their section. Jimin gasped when he realized their seats were right behind the glass, practically at center ice.

“These are amazing,” Jimin breathed excitedly and Jungkook smiled as he settled next to him.

“My brother got them for Christmas,” Jungkook explained, laughing. “I think he was hoping I’d take him.”

Jimin blanched. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

Jungkook cut him off, sliding his cold hand into Jimin’s. “I’d rather be here with you.”

Jimin’s breath caught. His gaze locked with Jungkook’s starry black eyes, and for a second, the noise of the arena faded. Then someone shuffled past their row, brushing Jimin’s foot, and the spell broke. They both shifted their legs aside, smiling sheepishly when their eyes met again.

Jimin only then noticed Jungkook was still holding his hand and he ducked his head to hide a grin.

Players began gliding onto the ice for warm-up, the sound of blades slicing echoing through the arena. Jungkook leaned in, explaining the rules and pointing out key players, though Jimin found himself paying more attention to his smooth voice and proximity than the game.

“Don’t lean too close to the glass,” Jungkook warned gently as the game started. “Sometimes they hit pretty hard.”

Jimin nodded, and sure enough, the game soon erupted with speed and collisions. When a Detroit player slammed a Maple Leafs forward against the glass right in front of them, Jimin jolted in his seat, instinctively turning toward Jungkook.

Jungkook’s arm slipped around his shoulders and Jimin looked up at him, startled, then laughed, his nerves unraveling. Jungkook laughed with him, and though they turned back to the game, his arm didn’t move from Jimin’s shoulders.

Jimin found himself completely absorbed in the game, clapping and cheering, nerves spiking each time the puck darted toward the goal. By the final period, the arena was electric, the crowd on its feet. When the horn blared to signal victory, Jimin jumped straight into Jungkook’s arms, laughing breathlessly. For a moment, they held on, flushed and exhilarated, before pulling apart with pink cheeks and shy smiles.

Their hands found each other naturally as they threaded through the crowd on their way out of the arena. When they reached the street, soft flakes drifted down, catching in Jimin’s hair. He tilted his head back, smiling up at the dark sky.

Jimin turned toward him, eyes shining. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

Jungkook refused to look at the white flakes falling down the sky, eyes set on Jimin as he breathed, “Yeah, it’s beautiful.”

Jimin stilled and watched as the snow fell on Jungkook’s dark hair and melted on his cheeks.

“Hungry?” Jungkook asked.

“Starving.”

They walked down Bay Street toward the harbourfront and ducked into an A&W, devouring burgers and fries as they replayed the game, laughing and gesturing, each moment feeling brighter for being shared. Jungkook couldn’t stop grinning—elated that Jimin had enjoyed himself, thrilled to share something he loved with him.

When they finished, they headed back to the car. The city was quieter now, snow still falling in a fine veil. Once inside, Jimin sank into the passenger seat, stomach full and body warm, letting the hum of the heater and the low music lull him. His eyelids grew heavy. Jungkook kept sneaking glances, heart swelling at the sight of Jimin so comfortable, trusting enough to drift beside him.

He eased the car to a stop in front of Jimin’s house and Jimin blinked, straightening as he realized where they were.

“Oh,” he said, a little dazed. “We’re already here.”

Jungkook tightened his grip on the steering wheel, reluctant to let the night slip away. The street was dark and quiet, the cold pressing in outside. He swallowed. “If you’re still up for it, maybe we could go ice-skating this weekend?” His voice was soft, almost careful.

Jimin’s lips curved into a smile. “That’d be great.”

He unbuckled his seatbelt, hand on the door handle, then hesitated. Turning back, his eyes lingered on Jungkook. “Thank you for tonight. I had a lot of fun.”

“Me too,” Jungkook replied, smiling, though it faltered as soon as Jimin pushed open the door and stepped out into the snow. He watched him hurry up the path, jacket pulled tight against the cold. At the door, Jimin turned, gave a small wave, and disappeared inside.

Jungkook sat there a moment longer, the warmth of Jimin’s presence still lingering in the car, before finally pulling away into the night.

Jimin shed his jacket once he was inside. From the living room, his mother called, “How was it? Did you have fun?”

He stepped in, leaned down to kiss her cheek, and answered, “It was great,” before heading upstairs.

A hot shower, brushed teeth, and pajamas later, he was ready to crawl into bed. Just as he reached for the light switch, a knock came at the door. Jimin sighed, already bracing for questions about his evening with Jungkook.

“Mom, I’m tired. Can we talk tomor—”

The words died on his tongue as the door opened and Jungkook stepped inside. Jimin had just enough time to notice that Jungkook had removed his shoes but still wore his coat before he shot upright, heart thundering, as Jungkook quietly closed the door and crossed the room.

“Your mother let me in,” Jungkook murmured.

“What are you doing here?” Jimin whispered, unsettled and yet elated to see him standing there. It was odd to see Jungkook in his bedroom, in that familiar and private, intimate setting.

“I turned back,” Jungkook said, bridging the space between them. Jimin’s breath caught when Jungkook’s fingers brushed his cheek, the caress light and gentle—tentative. A shiver coursed through him, butterflies beating frantically in his stomach.

“I didn’t want the night to end like this,” Jungkook whispered. His hand slid down, curling around the back of Jimin’s neck. His thumb traced along Jimin’s jaw as they stared at each other. Slowly—agonizingly slowly—Jungkook leaned in until their noses touched.

Jimin felt Jungkook’s other hand settle at his waist. Hesitant, he curled his fingers into Jungkook’s jacket, resisting the urge to pull him closer, to rush the moment. Their breaths mingled, warm and shallow, and Jimin wondered if Jungkook could hear the wild pounding of his heart.

Jungkook rubbed his nose against his, eyes falling shut. Jimin closed his too, waiting, body shaking with expectation while they breathed each other’s air.

Jungkook’s lips brushed the corner of his mouth—light, exploring, their warm caress dizzying—before trailing upward to his cheek, then down along his jaw, angling Jimin’s head slightly until at last they returned to hover over his lips.

Time seemed to hold its breath. Their mouths grazed, and Jimin instinctively leaned in, chasing the kiss, desperate to feel the firm press of Jungkook’s lips against his own. But Jungkook drew back slightly, just enough to meet Jimin’s eyes, seeking—

Approval? Encouragement?

Jimin wasn’t sure.

Jungkook’s mind was reeling, his body thrumming with desire. His other hand rose to cup Jimin’s face, holding him still as he leaned in again. Jimin yielded, tilting his head back, lips parted in invitation and his surrender made arousal burn hot in Jungkook’s stomach.

This kiss landed firmer, lips against warm lips, lingering for a beat longer before Jungkook broke away. Jimin knew it was his first, so he waited, patient, reining himself in, letting Jungkook find his pace. He was afraid Jungkook would run away, shocked and disgusted at having kissed a boy. He was afraid he would scare him if he kissed him back too quickly, too fervently.

So he waited.

And Jungkook kissed him again—hungrier this time, with growing confidence. His hands slid down to Jimin’s nape, gripping tighter as he pressed their mouths together. Their lips fit perfectly, warm and soft, and Jimin responded in kind. He tugged at Jungkook’s jacket to keep him close, angling his head, exploring, teeth grazing, tongues brushing tentatively.

Jimin followed his lead, letting Jungkook kiss him again and again until his whole body felt aflame. The need to be touched, to be kissed by him—claimed and possessed— roared through him so fiercely it stole his breath.

Jungkook’s fingers tangled in his hair, gripping a handful, and Jimin couldn’t stop the moan that slipped out, raw and unfiltered. The sound sent a hot jolt straight to Jungkook’s groin, desire spiking sharp and urgent.

He pressed closer, lips parting as the kiss deepened, their tongues venturing further, finding a rhythm as though they’d always known how.

Jungkook was swept under, emotions crashing over him, every kiss leaving him light-headed and aching. It felt like kissing for the first time all over again, his chest swelling with feelings he couldn’t yet name, arousal burning hot and insistent through his veins.

This—this was what he had hoped to feel when he kissed Cassie at Jake’s party. Everything he thought was broken in him was suddenly sparking alive. His body was awakening with sensations he never believed he’d feel, and he was overwhelmed by the need, the want, to do more—to lose himself in Jimin, to surrender to every buried desire.

Jimin didn’t dare move. His fingers clutched at Jungkook’s jacket, holding him close as he let himself be kissed. He had kissed a few boys before, but none had ever made him feel like this, not even his ex-boyfriend. His blood pounded in his ears, his stomach coiled tight with arousal, warmth spreading through his veins all the way to his fingertips and toes. He wanted to curl himself around Jungkook, to strip away the clothes keeping them apart, keeping him from feeling the heat of Jungkook’s skin against his.

When Jungkook guided him into a full, open-mouthed kiss, their tongues tangling and exploring, Jimin melted into him completely. Another moan slipped out, raw and unrestrained—only to be cut short by a sharp knock at his door.

“Jimin?” his mother called from the hallway. Jungkook broke away instantly, stepping back to put space between them. “It’s getting late, your friend should go.”

Jimin’s eyes stayed locked on Jungkook, aching already for the warmth he had just lost—the closeness, the smell of him, the gentleness of his touch. He wondered if he looked as undone as Jungkook did: flushed cheeks, glazed eyes, breath uneven.

Clearing his throat, he called back, “Yeah, he’ll be down in a minute.”

They both stood frozen until her footsteps faded, tension easing only once the house grew quiet again.

“I should go,” Jungkook murmured, his voice rough.

Jimin nodded, though his whole body screamed to say no, to hold him there. He needed Jungkook near.

But Jungkook ran a hand through his hair, already turning toward the door. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Jimin followed, drawn by an invisible thread that refused to let him keep his distance. At the doorway, Jungkook paused and glanced back, his expression unreadable. Jimin’s mind spun with questions—was he happy, ashamed, excited, disgusted, scared?

“I’m glad I came back,” Jungkook said suddenly with a smile, cutting off Jimin’s spiraling thoughts. Then he slipped out, leaving Jimin standing in the quiet with his heart racing.

Jimin woke up the next day and lay in bed for a while, staring at the ceiling, replaying last night and wondering if it had all been a dream.

He reached for his phone, and his heart gave an excited kick when he saw a text from Jungkook.

Jungkook

good morning :)

get your skates ready

i’ll pick u up after lunch

It was past 11 a.m. He still had time, but he jumped out of bed and rushed to the bathroom, his heart racing a million miles an hour.

After a hot shower, he brushed his teeth, dried his hair, and picked an outfit—cute yet comfortable—before bolting downstairs. His mother had already left for work, but she’d left a note and some leftovers in the fridge. Jimin warmed up a plate and scarfed it down at the kitchen bar.

Then he went to the basement to fetch his skates, giving the blades a quick swipe to clean them and making sure they were still sharp. They had been a birthday gift from his father, and he hadn’t used them since the divorce, more than a year ago. The memory made his chest ache, but he pushed it aside.

The doorbell rang, startling him. He tried to steady his breathing as he made his way to the door.

The sight of Jungkook still felt unreal—tall and smiling, his oversized jacket swallowing his frame.

“Ready?” Jungkook asked with a grin.

Jimin nodded eagerly. “Let me get my jacket.”

He grabbed his phone, wallet, keys, and skates on the way out and followed Jungkook to his car. Once they were settled inside, the heater humming and music low in the background, Jimin wondered where they were going. Jungkook wasn’t driving downtown where the popular rinks were; instead, he turned onto Gerrard Street toward Greenwood.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” Jungkook said with a quick smile.

Jimin slumped back in his seat, fighting the urge to reach for Jungkook’s hand, fingers curling tightly around the edge of his seat instead. They hadn’t kissed and he was unsure if this was a date or not, if maybe Jungkook had had second thoughts, but he decided to simply enjoy the moment. Being around Jungkook in that peaceful, comfortable atmosphere was already more than he had ever hoped for after everything that had happened.

A few minutes later, Jungkook pulled into the parking lot of Greenwood Pool.

Jimin blinked. “The swimming pool?”

“They turn the outdoor pool into a rink in the winter,” Jungkook explained.

Jimin frowned. “I thought they closed it for the hockey team over the holidays.”

“They do.” Jungkook threw him a knowing look as he parked. “But my mom’s friends with the manager. I called in a favor.” He got out of the car with a smirk. “We’ve got the rink to ourselves for an hour.”

Jimin gasped, excitement blooming in his chest. He hurried after Jungkook through the main hall, past the gates, and out to the pool deck, now gleaming with ice.

He remembered coming here as a kid in the summers. The oval-shaped pool, with trees and bushes forming a little island in the middle, looked even more magical covered in snow. Jimin couldn’t help but think it was romantic and intimate.

“Come on,” Jungkook said, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward a bench where they sat to lace up their skates.

Jungkook was first on the ice, waiting at the edge while Jimin finished tying his laces. Jimin rose, feeling a little clumsy as he shuffled to the rink, but Jungkook reached out and steadied him. Their hands lingered before Jimin let go and pushed off, gliding forward. Confidence came back quickly; he spun in a neat turn, circling back to Jungkook with a laugh.

“I didn’t know you were this good.” Jungkook smiled, tone laced with surprise and admiration.

“I used to skate every winter,” Jimin said with a grin. “Race you?” He challenged and in the blink of an eye, he was already gone, laughing as he picked up speed, the scrape of his blades on the ice sharp and familiar. He glanced back and saw Jungkook behind him, gaining fast. With a squeal, he leaned into a turn and bolted down the long stretch, but Jungkook was now right behind him, then suddenly in front, stopping in a sharp spray of ice.

He caught Jimin in his arms, both of them tumbling onto the ice in a heap of laughter.

“You idiot!” Jimin gasped between giggles. “You could’ve hurt yourself.”

“But I caught you,” Jungkook replied with a smug grin.

Jimin realized he was lying on top of him, Jungkook’s chest heaving beneath him. His gaze flicked to Jungkook’s lips. Jungkook was watching him, waiting.

Jimin leaned in—close enough to feel his breath—but stopped just shy of kissing him.

“Race me again,” he whispered.

Jungkook lifted his head to chase the kiss that didn’t happen, but Jimin slipped away, laughing as he skated off. Jungkook was quick to recover from his surprise and went after him.

They raced again and again, Jungkook trying to grab Jimin at every chance he got—by the arm, the jacket, his waist, sometimes their hands brushing. And Jimin would indulge him, let him think for a second he had won before swirling away at the last second.

Finally, Jungkook decided to change strategy. He slowed, letting Jimin get ahead and disappear at the turn. Then he turned around and cut across the ice backwards, catching him off guard. He sped up and caught Jimin in his arms again and this time he held him firmly, guiding their momentum until they glided together as one. Jimin surrendered and threw his arms around Jungkook’s neck, trusting him to bring them to a smooth stop—and he did.

Slowly, he guided Jimin up against one of the wooden beams of the awning. Jimin dropped his hands so they rested on Jungkook’s chest. Their eyes locked, breaths still fast, cheeks flushed red from the cold and they stared quietly at each other, smiling, feeling happy and carefree.

Then Jungkook kissed him.

The shock made Jimin gasp, and Jungkook swallowed the sound, cupping his face with cold fingers. His hands held Jimin’s cheeks, fingertips icy enough to send a shiver down his spine, but warmth bloomed through him as Jungkook’s tongue traced the seam of his lips and deepened their kiss.

Too soon, Jungkook pulled back. Jimin blinked, confused, until he noticed the doors had opened and people were filing in, chatting as they came onto the rink. Jungkook stepped back just far enough that no one could guess what they’d been doing.

Jimin swallowed back the sting of Jungkook’s reaction but couldn’t stop the hurt from spreading in his chest and clogging his throat. He knew Jungkook wasn’t ready yet to show the world who he really was. He had been there himself. He knew better than to force him. So he said nothing and quietly followed when Jungkook murmured, “Time’s up. We should go.”

As they put their shoes back on and walked to his car, Jimin desperately tried to get a hold of his spiraling thoughts. Suddenly, going to an isolated ice rink instead of a crowded, more popular one didn’t feel so romantic anymore. He couldn’t help but wonder if Jungkook had chosen it for privacy—for fear of being seen with him.

They got into the car, and Jungkook quickly started the engine and turned the heater on. As Jimin buckled his seatbelt, Jungkook reached over to brush a strand of hair from his face.

“Hey…”

Jimin looked up at him, finally snapping out of his thoughts.

“You okay?”

Jimin nodded, though his chest still felt tight with doubts.

“How about we go to my place to dry off and get hot chocolate?” he suggested, and Jimin felt some of the tension ease.

“We could watch a movie if you want,” Jungkook added.

“I’d love that.”

They drove back to Jungkook’s place, and Jimin realized it wasn’t far from his own house—barely a five-minute drive up north.

He followed Jungkook inside, eyes busy taking in the space while Jungkook removed his shoes and jacket before helping Jimin out of his coat.

“This way,” he said, pointing toward the hallway as he went upstairs, Jimin trailing behind.

Jimin walked into Jungkook’s bedroom the way one might enter a temple. He let his gaze wander over the vintage jersey framed and hung above the bed, the shelves heavy with trophies and photographs—friends, family, baseball teammates, a signed picture from a Blue Jays player. The desk was cluttered with pens, sticky notes covered in doodles, an open laptop, and scattered books. Finally, his eyes fell on the bed, large and pushed against the wall in the corner beside the window.

“Here.” Jungkook’s voice cut through Jimin’s quiet observation. He handed him a set of clothes. “I’ll show you the bathroom.”

Jungkook led him down the hall, pointing out where to find the shower gel and towels.

“Let me know if you need anything else.”

He left, closing the door behind him, and Jimin quickly undressed before jumping into the shower, turning the water hot until steam clouded the air. He sampled the bottles lined along the shelf, choosing what smelled like Jungkook’s gel, washed his hair, and then wrapped himself in a fresh, fluffy towel before slipping into the sweater and sweatpants Jungkook had given him.

When he returned to the bedroom, it was empty. Following the sound of clinking dishware, he found Jungkook downstairs in the kitchen—freshly showered, hair still damp, dressed in a large black hoodie and grey sweatpants—making hot chocolate as promised.

Jungkook turned, eyes sweeping shamelessly over Jimin from head to toe before focusing back on the milk warming on the stove.

“How was the shower?”

“Good,” Jimin said, moving to stand beside him. He felt shy in Jungkook’s clothes, swallowed by their size, wrapped in the scent of his detergent, soft fabric brushing against bare skin.

“Where did you shower?” he asked, if only to distract himself from the nervous flutter in his chest.

“The guest bathroom.”

Jungkook pulled the milk from the heat and poured it into two cups, setting the pan in the sink before handing one steaming mug to Jimin. They carried them to the living room, and while Jungkook flipped on the TV and scrolled through Netflix, Jimin sat on the couch, curious eyes roaming the space where Jungkook had grown up.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Jimin said. Jungkook nodded for him to continue as he sat down, remote still in hand and took a careful sip of his hot chocolate.

“Why did you date Cassie for so long?” Jimin asked, watching him pause. “I mean, if you knew you were gay, then… I mean unless you—" His words trailed off, unsure how to finish.

“Because it made me feel normal,” Jungkook admitted, the confession raw and heavy with shame.

“You are normal,” Jimin objected softly.

“I know, but… it comforted me. Dating her was like a shield. As long as I was with her, I felt like no one could accuse me of being gay.”

Jimin’s chest tightened at the way Jungkook spoke, as if being gay were something shameful. It hurt—not only because of what the words implied, almost insulting in their weight, but because they revealed how deeply Jungkook hated himself for it.

“You make it sound like being gay is a crime,” Jimin said, his tone clipped as he set his mug down on the coffee table beside Jungkook’s. He couldn’t help but take Jungkook’s personality, even though he knew it was more about Jungkook than about him.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to—” Jungkook stopped, forced a breath, and tried again in a calmer voice. “I don’t think it’s a crime or something to be ashamed of. But after what happened with my dad, I didn’t want to betray my mom and brother the same way he did. They’d already had enough pain to deal with, and I didn’t want them thinking it ran in the family.”

“It’s also not a genetic disease,” Jimin snapped, his voice a little harsher than he intended. He hated the self-blame carried in Jungkook’s tone, he hated seeing him suffer and feel guilty, it made him feel powerless.

“I know I sound stupid,” Jungkook admitted quickly, sheepish and ashamed. He gave a small, self-deprecating scoff. “Can you tell I’m really bad with words?”

Silence stretched between them as Jimin stared at the TV. Jungkook slumped back on the couch, turning the remote over in his hands nervously.

“Did you know that about thirty percent of swan couples are gay?” Jimin finally asked, and Jungkook’s lips tugged into a confused smile.

“Really?”

Jimin nodded. “The black ones, at least,” he amended with a shrug. Then he turned to Jungkook. “Anyway, my point is, you don't choose who you love, and I think loving someone is beautiful, no matter who they are.” His voice was soft, and Jungkook looked up at him, with a dark stare so intense it took Jimin’s breath.

Jimin gasped when Jungkook reached for him, pulling him close and kissing him. His lips were warm, the tip of his nose still a little cold against Jimin’s skin, but none of it mattered. Jimin wrapped his arms around Jungkook’s neck, holding him tight, and deepened the kiss—mouths hot and feverish, tongues wet and exploring.

Without thinking, Jimin crawled onto Jungkook’s lap, straddling him and losing himself completely in their kiss. His breath caught when Jungkook’s hands slid to his waist, strong fingers curling and tugging him closer, making him shudder in pleasure and anticipation. They inched beneath the hem of his sweater, brushing against bare skin—cold fingertips sparking fire as they traced the dip of his back.

Jimin bucked his hips and moaned when he felt Jungkook’s hardening length pressing against him.

“Jungkook—” he gasped, and Jungkook’s hips jerked under him.

“Fuck, Jimin,” Jungkook rasped, the words rough against his lips, his hips jerking helplessly upward as though they had a mind of their own, instincts taking over. He crushed Jimin closer, chest to chest, devouring him in a breathtaking kiss. His fingers explored Jimin’s back, hands sneaking higher under the sweater to trace the curve of his spine, relishing the warmth and softness of his skin.

He couldn’t get enough.

He was blinded by arousal, overwhelmed by the intensity of his desire and the raw urgency of his body. He had kissed before, touched and let himself be touched—but this was different. Never in his life had he felt this way with someone. This wasn’t fumbling or obligation, wasn’t about pretending to be someone he wasn’t. This was raw and undeniable, a rush so sharp it felt like waking up after years of holding his breath. For the first time, he wasn’t just kissing someone. He was kissing someone he desired.

Someone he liked.

He wondered briefly if it was because Jimin was a guy—or simply because it was Jimin. Either way, it felt like seeing the world in a new light, senses sharpened, every nerve ending alive and buzzing.

Jimin threaded his fingers through Jungkook’s damp hair, tugging gently as his lips trailed across his cheek, down to the tender skin of his neck, where he nipped and sucked. Jungkook surrendered without thought, head tilting, mouth parting, heart hammering in a rhythm that seemed to echo Jimin’s.

Jimin, too, felt the shift. He reveled in the heat radiating off Jungkook, the clean scent of soap clinging to his skin, the faint sweetness of chocolate lingering on his tongue. Everything about him—his taste, his warmth, the way his body moved against his—was intoxicating. It wasn’t just arousal. It was trust, closeness, the realization that being here, in Jungkook’s arms, in his clothes, freshly showered and warm, was exactly where he wanted to be.

And he felt good.

Kissing Jungkook felt like the most natural thing in the world.

It was the slam of the front door that forced them apart. Jimin scrambled to the side of the couch, sitting upright, while Jungkook hastily adjusted his sweatpants to hide his growing arousal and grabbed the remote to feign browsing for a movie.

A minute later, Yoongi walked in, giving them a once-over that made it clear he wasn’t fooled by their innocent faces.

“Hey, Jimin,” he greeted.

“Hi,” Jimin answered shyly.

“Don’t stop on my account,” Yoongi teased, and Jimin watched Jungkook flush red with embarrassment.

“We’re just watching a movie,” Jungkook muttered weakly, annoyed by the intrusion, wishing he’d had a few more minutes with Jimin.

“Sure,” Yoongi grinned. “Mom’s on her way—she asked what you wanted for dinner.”

At that, Jimin stood up, sheepish. “I should go.”

“I’ll drive you home,” Jungkook said quickly, following him up from the couch. He glared at Yoongi on the way out, but his brother only smirked knowingly before disappearing upstairs.

While Jimin slipped on his shoes and coat, Jungkook packed his clothes into a plastic bag and handed it to him.

“I can change quickly if you want your clothes back.”

“No rush,” Jungkook smiled. “You can return them later.”

They stepped outside and walked to the car. The ride was quiet, both of them shy after being caught red-handed by Yoongi while making out on the couch. Jimin had never lost control the way he had with Jungkook. He’d done plenty with his ex-boyfriend and wasn’t a virgin by any means, but it usually took time to get him in the mood, to let go and simply feel instead of overthinking. Jungkook, with just one kiss, had shattered all of that.

Jungkook, meanwhile, was still reeling from the arousal that burned hot inside him. He realized that, if not for his brother barging in, he would have let things go further.

He wouldn’t have stopped Jimin.

The thought both terrified and exhilarated him. He wasn’t sure he was ready to take the next step, to do more than just kiss. He didn’t want to rush anything, not with Jimin.

He’d never gone beyond kissing with his ex-girlfriends—at most some touching, a few handjobs, and one unsatisfying blowjob. But now, he couldn’t wait to do more.

When he parked along the curb, Jimin turned to him, hesitant.

“Thanks for today. I had a lot of fun.”

“Me too.”

“If you’re free tomorrow, we could watch a movie at my place?” Jimin suggested.

“I’ll bring the snacks,” Jungkook said with a smile, noticing Jimin’s relief in the way his smile softened and his shoulders sagged slightly.

Jimin hesitated for a moment, then leaned over to kiss him. Jungkook barely had time to register it before Jimin pulled away and slipped out of the car, leaving him stunned.

They met the next day.

And every day until the end of the holidays.

They didn’t watch much of the movie; it simply played in the background while they made out on Jimin’s bed until they were out of breath, kissed dumb and hazy. They slowly explored each other, learning the other’s body, the planes and curves, the sensitive spots, the places that made them shiver or laugh.

They could spend hours kissing, touching each other while keeping their clothes on, allowing themselves to slip their hands under sweaters but never taking them off. It was an unspoken rule, both of them willing to take it slow and not rush these precious moments. Jimin didn’t want to spook Jungkook, to make him feel uncomfortable, and Jungkook wanted to take his time, to savor those kisses and tentative touches, because being with Jimin meant more to him than sex.

Their days were spent talking and laughing, playing video games, watching movies at Jimin’s place—his mother was out working all day, and no one was there to interrupt them.

It was fun.

It was easy.

It was comfortable.

Then the holidays were over, and they had to go back to school.

Jimin walked down the hallway to his first class when someone barreled into him and crushed him in a tight embrace.

“God, I missed you!” Hoseok exclaimed, rubbing his cheek against Jimin’s shoulder like an overexcited puppy. “Where have you been hiding?”

Jimin giggled as he pulled back to look at his friend. Hoseok was scowling now, fists planted on his hips.

“You barely texted me,” he complained.

“I texted you every day,” Jimin replied, rolling his eyes as he headed toward their classroom, Hoseok hot on his heels.

“Barely!” Hoseok repeated, dragging out every syllable. He plopped into his usual seat beside Jimin at the back by the window. “One-word answers don’t count.”

Jimin flushed, averting his gaze as he busied himself pulling books from his backpack. “I’ve been busy.”

“Busy with what?” Hoseok asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

Jimin’s blush deepened, his hesitation giving him away. Hoseok leaned forward, cocking an eyebrow as he tried to catch Jimin’s gaze. Jimin glanced quickly at the clock above the door, as if checking whether he had time to make a run for it.

Finally, he murmured, “I’ve been spending time with Jungkook.”

Hoseok blinked. “Jungkook? Jeon Jungkook?” He repeated, watching Jimin nod. “The Jeon Jungkook that lied to you? The one you hate?”

Jimin nodded again, failing miserably to suppress the shy little smile tugging at his lips. Hoseok froze for a beat, then grinned so wide his face nearly split.

“You know I’m expecting a full report—with every single excruciating detail, right?”

“There’s no excruciating details,” Jimin deflected, shifting in his chair. “We just hung out. Talked.”

Hoseok gave him a look that screamed liar. Jimin groaned and rolled his eyes.

“Fine,” he admitted. “We kissed.”

The squeal that tore out of Hoseok was so shrill it turned heads from every corner of the classroom. Jimin lunged to shush him, but his friend was bouncing in his seat, far too excited to care.

“How many times? How was it? Is he as good a kisser as I imagine him to be?”

Jimin blushed so hard his ears went red. He couldn’t stop the smile either, a mix of excitement and relief at finally being able to share what had happened over the holidays. But still, a part of him felt protective of this fragile new thing—afraid that talking too much might jinx it.

“Too many times to count,” he confessed with a giggle, watching Hoseok practically vibrate in his seat. “And it was… amazing.”

Hoseok gasped dramatically and grabbed his arm. “Tell me everything! Start from the beginning.”

Jimin relented, recounting the holidays—how he texted Jungkook, their conversations, their dinner after running into each other at the mall, all the little things they’d done together. Hoseok squealed and gasped at all the right places, interrupting him with exclamations, especially when Jimin mentioned Jungkook showing up at his house that night to kiss him.

“So you’re like… together now?” Hoseok finally asked, eyes shining.

Jimin hesitated, and Hoseok’s grin faltered.

“I mean… we haven’t exactly talked about it in those terms,” Jimin admitted with a helpless shrug.

“But you’ve been going on dates for, like, two weeks straight—”

“I know,” Jimin whimpered, biting down on his lip. He’d tried so hard not to overthink it, not to get caught up in a spiral of speculation about his relationship with Jungkook, but the truth was, he was dying to know exactly what they were to each other.

“I just don’t wanna scare him with labels,” he added softly.

“Honey,” Hoseok cut in, tone firm. “You’ve given him plenty of time. That whole ‘I don’t wanna rush him’ excuse? Yeah, that’s worn out. It’s time you talk to him.”

“I know,” Jimin conceded in a whisper, but inside, the thought made his chest tighten with nerves.

Because he wasn’t sure he was ready for the answer.

Over lunch, he got a text from Jungkook, asking him to meet him at the library.

Jimin went there with butterflies in his stomach and a heart beating so fast it felt like it was about to burst from his chest.

He searched the aisles, the library unusually quiet at this hour, until someone grabbed his wrist from behind.

“Hey,” Jungkook whispered, pulling Jimin against the shelves. His arms locked around Jimin’s waist, pressing their bodies close as he leaned in for a kiss. Jimin melted instantly, hands curling around Jungkook’s neck, fingers threading through his hair and tugging lightly, lips parting to let him in.

Jimin could never get enough.

Kissing Jungkook had no secrets anymore—it was as natural and instinctive as breathing. Their lips fit perfectly, their bodies aligned with an ease that grounded him.

“Come see me at practice,” Jungkook rasped between kisses. He was relentless, kissed Jimin like a starved man, need pouring out of him, dizzying them both. Jimin had never felt so openly desired before, so wanted. The way Jungkook touched him made him feel like he was owned. Like he belonged to Jungkook. And he loved it.

“You wanna show off?” he teased weakly, though his voice was too breathy and affected to sell the banter.

“You’re my motivation,” Jungkook admitted, the words slipping out with a vulnerability that made Jimin’s chest tighten. It sounded like something he had been carrying for weeks, finally allowed to be spoken.

Reluctantly, Jungkook pulled back, just enough to look at him. He drank in the sight: Jimin’s glazed eyes, pink lips slick from their kisses, the faint flush painting his cheeks. It was the most beautiful thing Jungkook had ever seen.

“Scouting season has started,” he explained. “If I wanna be recruited, I have to give my best.”

Jimin nodded, hands still absentmindedly caressing the back of Jungkook’s neck. “I’ll be there.”

They leaned into each other again, kissing until they were dizzy, hidden in a forgotten aisle where dust collected on books no one ever touched.

For a few minutes, the world disappeared until the bell rang, calling them back to reality.

Chapter 4 Chapter Text

Jimin went to baseball practice to watch Jungkook play.

And he went to every practice his schedule allowed him to attend.

When they weren’t in class, they met in the library, sometimes under the bleachers if the latter was too crowded. They kissed as though every kiss were the first—exploring, discovering, yet already knowing everything about one another.

Nights were spent texting under the covers, writing the things they didn’t dare say out loud, doing in words what they couldn’t yet let themselves do in person.

Sometimes, they met at Jimin’s house, taking advantage of the empty house while his mother was away at work. They’d watch TV, play, talk, and kiss.

Always kiss.

That afternoon, Jungkook had driven them back to his place. Jimin’s mother had the day off and was home, so it made more sense to go to Jungkook’s. They had a couple of hours before anyone else came home, and they wanted to use that time to be together.

As Jimin sat on the bed, eyes greedily roaming Jungkook’s room again—still as fascinated by his world as the first time—Jungkook playfully barreled into him and they rolled across the mattress, giggling, pushing and tugging at each other.

They ended up with Jungkook pinning Jimin down, settled between his legs, both hands locked firmly around his wrists. The laughter died instantly, the air thickening and mood shifting when Jimin felt the press of Jungkook’s crotch against him.

Jungkook lowered himself, lips crashing into Jimin’s with a rush of raw need, almost painful in its urgency. Jimin lifted from the mattress to meet him halfway, arms winding around Jungkook’s neck, pulling him so close he was crushed under his weight. His fingers roamed his waist, sneaking beneath the layers of fabric to graze warm skin.

Jungkook suddenly sat up and, in one swift move, stripped off his t-shirt and sweater, tossing them carelessly to the floor.

Enough, he thought, it's enough waiting.

He helped Jimin out of his sweater too, and when their bare chests met, skin on hot skin, the moans that escaped them were raw and broken. Their feverish hands traveled over uncharted territory—discovering, claiming—blunt nails digging into supple flesh. They were simply high on arousal, drunk with desire.

Jungkook’s fingers moved to Jimin’s hair and held his head in place as he ravaged him, the thought of him stopping being the worst thing he could imagine at this instant.

He felt he would die if Jimin stopped now. He was certain of it.

It felt like a dam breaking. Weeks of pent-up desire, of hiding behind heavy and dusty bookshelves to exchange stifled touches, swallowed moans, and secret glances—all of it erupted in a frenzy they couldn’t hold back anymore. Half-naked in Jungkook’s bed, surrounded by sheets that smelled like him, the room was filled with nothing but their breathless gasps and soft moans.

Their desire and need for each other was now out in the open, unleashed, and they couldn’t hold any of it back anymore.

Their hard lengths strained against denim, throbbing with need and aching. Jungkook gave a tentative thrust, hips jerking almost uncontrollably, and shuddered at the contact. It was the boldest they had been—the closest to true intimacy.

He did it again.

Pleasure sparked sharp and hot beneath his skin, his mind going blank. He felt consumed by it. Jimin wrapped his legs around Jungkook’s waist, pulling him as close as possible. Jungkook cupped Jimin’s ass, lifting him just enough to control the friction, grinding their erections together. Fingers dug into rough denim, dragging desperate sounds out of both of them.

They humped clumsily, blindly chasing release. It wasn’t perfect, they weren’t in sync, but it didn’t matter—only the rush, the friction, the overwhelming pleasure they gave each other mattered.

Their whimpers and moans filled the room, soft but intoxicating. The world outside ceased to exist.

It was the most exciting and pleasurable thing they’d ever done together.

Or that they had ever done period.

Jimin couldn’t remember ever feeling so much pleasure, not alone, not with anyone.

And despite his foggy brain, lost in hazy arousal, he knew why, he saw it with blinding clarity. The wave of warm sensations flooding his chest didn't lie. It was because he had never felt for anyone else what he felt for Jungkook.

He wanted to belong to him. He wanted to give him all of himself, unconditionally and completely. And that realization tipped him over.

Jungkook felt Jimin tense beneath him, back arching, nails clawing at his bare back, then gripping his ass to keep him right where he needed the friction. He understood he was close and so he grinded harder, dragging his crotch between Jimin’s legs. The pressure of their hard cocks against each other was maddening.

The sound of Jimin unraveling beneath him—because of him, because of what they were doing—was intoxicating. He kissed him hard as they came, a beat apart, collapsing like dominos, one after the other.

They refused to part, lips glued together even as their highs ebbed away.

Slowly, their breathing evened out, replaced by lazy kisses and fingers combing through damp hair. Jungkook pulled back at last, heart racing in apprehension, but Jimin’s smile erased every doubt.

He was so lost in the moment, so consumed by Jimin beneath him, that he didn’t hear the front door or the footsteps on the stairs. Not until his bedroom door was flung open and his mother stood there.

Shame and fear crashed down. Jungkook jerked away from Jimin and scrambled off the bed.

“Mom—” he began, but the look on her face stopped him cold. He’d seen it before, and prayed he’d never see it again.

Her expression hardened. She refused to look at Jimin, to even acknowledge him. Shoulders squared, voice icy, she said, “Dinner’s going to be ready soon.”

She turned and left.

Jungkook stood frozen, chest tight, breath stuck in his throat.

Quietly, Jimin slid off the bed, pulling his sweater back on and nervously raking his fingers through his hair.

“Are you okay?” Jimin asked, his voice almost a whisper, afraid it would shatter the last of Jungkook’s composure. This was not ideal, he knew it. No one wanted their parents to find out this way, but for all his experience of being gay, he couldn't find the right words to comfort Jungkook. And the longer Jungkook remained quiet, the more Jimin lost his ability, his chance, to say something that would make him feel better.

“I’ll go,” he said eventually, softly.

Jungkook wanted to stop him. To speak. To say something. But no words came. He just stood there, silent, as Jimin gave him a sad look before walking out.

Jungkook stayed motionless, heart hammering, before finally forcing himself downstairs. His mother was already in the kitchen, busy with dinner.

“Mom,” he tried, voice rough. “Can we talk?”

“Have you finished your homework?” she asked without looking at him.

“Mom, please—”

“I don’t want to talk about it. Go back to your room.”

The rejection hit like a slap. His mother had never been cold to him before, and the shock knocked the breath out of him. He stumbled back upstairs and hid in his room until dinner.

With Yoongi out studying, Jungkook had to endure the meal alone with her. She spoke only in silence or dull, meaningless small talk, and Jungkook could barely pretend to care.

After dinner, she turned on the TV, and Jungkook excused himself to bed, unable to stand the punishing silence another second. Jimin had texted him—a simple I’m sorry—but Jungkook couldn’t bring himself to reply.

Later that night, he went back downstairs, hoping for a chance to talk. Instead, he found his mother crying on the couch. He retreated silently to his room, heart pounding, stomach churning with shame and guilt.

Jungkook felt like a mess.

His mother was openly angry and refused to speak to him.

The next day, he pretended he was too busy to meet Jimin.

He did the same the day after.

And the one after that.

He felt ashamed of himself mostly, for not being able to stand up for himself, for not being able to tell his mother about him and Jimin, for not being able to face Jimin and tell him it wasn't his fault.

He felt guilty for the pain he inflicted on his mother and, no doubt, the pain he was inflicting on Jimin by being such a coward.

That weekend, he had a game, and despite his best efforts to focus, to play as he normally would, he couldn’t get his head in it. He knew Jimin was there somewhere in the crowd with Hoseok. He could feel it—sense his presence sparking across his skin. But he couldn’t bring himself to look for him.

Shame burned through his gut. Then regret. Then disgust. And finally, self-hatred.

He hadn’t anticipated the consequences of being in a relationship with Jimin. He wasn’t ready.

Not ready to tell. Not ready to commit. Not ready to fight for it. Not ready to lose the one parent he had left.

All he could see was the disappointment and pain on his mother’s face.

In the end, he was just like his father.

After the game, the coach called him into his office. Jungkook entered with his head low, eyes fixed on the floor, already knowing what was waiting for him.

He had played horribly.

The coach didn’t even offer him a seat. He just stared, disappointment etched in his expression—the same look Jungkook had been living with at home.

“What was that?” he demanded.

“I’m sorry, coach.”

“You need to get your shit together, son. You won’t be scouted with this kind of performance.”

“I know.”

“That was the worst I’ve ever seen you play,” the coach pressed, every word another stab to his chest. “You’ve been practicing so hard, you were doing so well. What happened?”

“I—” Jungkook’s mind flooded with excuses, but he knew all of them were just that—excuses.

I’m under pressure. I’m nervous. I was distracted. My life is falling apart.

The coach sighed heavily. His tone softened. “What’s going on? Problems at home?”

Jungkook only shrugged.

“I told you before—leave those in the locker room. Don’t take your problems out on the field.”

“Yes, coach.”

The man inhaled deeply, eyes steady on him.

“Do better at the next game. Whatever’s bothering you, deal with it.”

Jimin knew Jungkook was avoiding him.

That much was obvious.

And he understood why—he understood the fear, the shame, the weight of it all—and so he gave him the space he thought he needed, hoping he’d come back around eventually.

But he didn’t.

Even when Jimin went to baseball practice or sat in the stands at Saturday’s game, Jungkook refused to even look at him. His texts and calls remained unanswered. With each passing day, the nausea of rejection grew, the sharp ache of pain rooting itself deeper in his chest.

Hoseok tried to encourage him to talk to Jungkook. Jimin vented, admitted his doubts and fears, confessed that he liked him too much to just let go now—but none of it eased the dread gnawing at him.

Jungkook was drifting away.

And after another week, Jimin could feel something between them cracking, broken.

He knew he was losing him.

And the thought drove him mad.

So when Jimin heard about a party organized by a member of the baseball team, he decided to go. He didn’t care whose house it was or what they were celebrating in the middle of March. All he knew was that the baseball team was invited. And maybe—just maybe—Jungkook would be there.

He asked Hoseok to come with him, and since Taehyung was going too, Hoseok didn’t need much convincing.

The house was already packed when they arrived, music pounding against the walls, bodies pressed together on the living room floor. They wove through the crowd into the kitchen, and though Hoseok shoved a cooler into his hand, Jimin barely registered it. His eyes were busy scanning every dark head, his heart racing each time he thought it might be Jungkook.

He tried to smile, tried to laugh with his friends, but his heart wasn’t in it. Eventually, he set the cooler down and excused himself.

“I need to go to the bathroom. Be right back.”

It wasn’t true. He needed to find Jungkook. So he went looking for him but couldn’t find him anywhere. The crowd pressed against him as he made his way upstairs, his steps unsteady. He finally reached the landing, breath heavy—and froze.

He would have recognized that silhouette anywhere. He’d touched it, held it, kissed it enough times to know it with his eyes closed.

His throat closed up. His stomach lurched violently. Tears stung his eyes before he could stop them. He slapped one hand against the wall for balance as a shiver ran through his body.

The movement caught Jungkook’s attention, and he pulled away from the girl in his arms.

“Hey, Jimin,” Cassie slurred with a sickeningly sweet smile.

The sound of her voice sliced through him. His body reacted before his brain could catch up. He turned on his heel, stumbling back downstairs, his vision blurring as he shoved past the crowd and burst out into the freezing night air.

He only realized once he was outside that he’d left his coat inside. The icy wind bit into his skin, his tears burned hot on his cheeks, and he fumbled for his phone with shaking hands.

“Jimin!”

He thumbed faster on his phone to book an Uber. He refused to turn around. Refused to look at him. He felt nauseous and knew it wasn’t the one cooler he’d had that made him feel sick.

“Jimin!” Jungkook’s voice was closer now, and he felt fingers brush his arm, tentative, pleading.

“Let me explain—”

Jimin shook his head, his hands trembling around his phone. “No need.”

“Please,” Jungkook begged, stepping in front of him. Jimin kept his eyes locked on the pavement. He couldn’t look at him.

“Going back to your ex won't solve your problems, you know,” Jimin snapped, anger and hurt mixing together as he fought his tears, fought the crack that was splitting his heart into two, very distinctive parts.

“I know, I fucked up. It was dumb, I just—” Jungkook exhaled in frustration.

He had no excuse, and he knew it. He honestly couldn't explain what came over him tonight. Cassie had shown up, well into her fourth drink, and had pressed herself against him in the hallway as he was on his way to the upstairs bathroom. She had rambled on about how they made a beautiful couple, but Jungkook had had trouble focusing on what she was saying. Looking at her, he had wondered—what was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he be satisfied, happy with a girl like Cassie? Why wasn’t he attracted to her?

So when she had leaned in to kiss him, he’d let her.

Just to prove to himself that maybe part of him was attracted to girls, that he wasn't like his father. But all he felt was guilt and disgust.

And all he could think about was how perfect, breathtaking, and overwhelming kissing Jimin had been.

And that's when Jimin found them.

“I trusted you,” Jimin finally looked up, his vision blurred with tears. Jungkook stood there, beautiful and broken, his own eyes glassy, nose tip pink, lips red from biting them raw.

Jimin realized he wasn’t drunk. Jungkook couldn’t even blame this on alcohol.

“Why would you do that?” Jimin went on, “You could've just talked to me.”

Jungkook refused to look away as he repeated, “I know.”

“Then why?” Jimin hated the tremor in his voice, the pain that cut through, and he lowered his eyes to the sidewalk again.

Jungkook’s breath hitched, and he moved to touch Jimin, who recoiled like a frightened animal.

“I don’t know how to be myself,” Jungkook admitted. “I don’t know how to do it.”

“You’re not ready to come out,” Jimin said, voice tight, fists clenched around his phone, chest aching with heartbreak. He realized the truth in his words as he spoke them, a truth he’d tried to ignore before. “And I understand that, I do. But I can’t live like that.”

“Jimin, it’s not you—”

“I know it’s not me,” Jimin said as he looked up at Jungkook again. For a minute, he hated the sadness, guilt, and regret etched in Jungkook’s features, thinking that he didn’t deserve to feel any of it because he was the one who had made a mistake. He had no right to suffer. It was Jimin who had that right.

“No matter how tempting it is to blame myself, I know it’s not me,” Jimin went on, forcing the words out through a throat clogged with sobs. “You’re just not ready to be with a man. To be with me.”

The look on Jungkook’s face was devastating. Pain so raw it gutted Jimin. Jungkook knew Jimin was right. He deserved someone who wanted to be with him and wasn’t ashamed of it. And even though every fiber of his being longed to be that person for him, he knew he wasn't. Not yet. Maybe never.

“Jimin—” Jungkook’s voice cracked on his name, and then he pulled him into his arms.

Jimin didn’t fight it. He couldn’t. His body sagged into the embrace, his fists curling into Jungkook’s hoodie. The familiar warmth unraveled him, even as his heart fractured. Jungkook shook against him, burying his face into his neck, sobbing.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, again and again, his voice ragged, his tears hot against Jimin’s skin. “I’m so sorry.”

His hands fanned wide across Jimin’s back, clinging to him with desperation, as though he could hold them together through sheer force. He pressed a trembling kiss to Jimin’s neck, another apology breathed against wet skin.

A car pulled up to the curb. Their time was up.

Jimin pulled back first, though it felt like tearing his own heart out. He looked at Jungkook one last time, drinking in his tear-streaked face, his trembling lips, the anguish shining in his eyes.

“I have to go,” Jimin whispered. His voice was steady, but his soul was splintering. He wanted to stay. He wanted to fight. But it was not his fight, and nothing he could do would make this better. Only Jungkook could, and he wasn't ready.

“Jimin—”

The name broke out of Jungkook as Jimin opened the car door. He slipped inside without looking back.

Jungkook stood frozen on the sidewalk, watching the taillights vanish into the night. His knees buckled, and he crumpled to the ground, the sound of his sobs swallowed by the cold night air.

“What a fucking asshole,” Hoseok exploded the next day when he went out for burgers with Jimin. He had been curious to know why Jimin had disappeared from the party, and his friend eventually confessed what had happened with Jungkook.

Jimin shook his head, the sadness etched so deep into his features that it shattered Hoseok’s anger on the spot. “Don’t blame him.”

“Don’t you dare defend him,” Hoseok snapped, leaning forward, furious at the pain clawing through his best friend.

“He’s hurting,” Jimin hiccuped, his throat thick with tears. He swiped at his face in frustration, ashamed of how quickly his emotions betrayed him. His eyes dropped to the burger on his plate, half-eaten and nauseating now, the sight of food turning his stomach. “No matter how much I’m hurt, I know he’s hurting more.”

Hoseok scoffed, shaking his head, but Jimin reached across the table, gripping his hand with trembling fingers. “He hates himself, Hobi. He’s lost, and he doesn’t know how to change that. Trust me—he’s suffering enough as it is.”

“Fuck, Jimin,” Hoseok whispered after a beat, softer now, his voice laced with grief. His gaze searched Jimin’s tear-streaked face.

“You’re in love with him.”

The following weeks were excruciating.

Jimin had never known pain like this—pain that didn’t just hurt, but consumed him. It lived in his chest, in every breath, in every step. It woke him in the middle of the night, suffocating, and haunted him during the day, a shadow clinging to his thoughts. It drained him, emptied him, to the point even smiling felt impossible.

And Jungkook was no better.

He had thought his father leaving was the worst pain he’d ever endured.

He had been wrong.

This was worse—so much worse.

Because this time, he had chosen it, brought it upon himself. Because this time, he had torn love out of his own chest with his own hands.

It felt like Jimin had taken a piece of him when he walked away. Like Jungkook was only half a person now, the rest hollowed out, missing.

Jimin was all he could think about. And he had lost him.

Twice.

School became a minefield. Every hallway a danger zone, every ash-blond head like a blade twisting in his ribs. He buried himself in baseball, staying on the field until night fell, pushing his body until it hurt more than his heart did. At least the ache in his muscles was one he could control.

But nothing worked.

The nights were still unbearable. Spring break came and went, and Jungkook only sank deeper. His friends tried to distract him, Yoongi tried to talk to him, but nothing could reach him.

So he made a decision.

He would leave. He would apply to every university in the US that could offer him his dream. He couldn’t stay in this town, in these streets, in these memories. Everywhere he turned, there was Jimin—what they’d shared, what they’d lost.

And Jungkook didn’t know how to survive it any longer.

3 months later

Jimin walked toward the beach, the orange glow of the setting sun spilling across the lake, gilding the white sand in fading light. His eyes immediately caught the silhouette—broad shoulders hunched, head bowed—sitting at the exact spot where they’d once eaten burgers with Hoseok and Taehyung.

It felt like a lifetime ago.

The memory was already fading, and it terrified him.

Please meet me at the beach tonight, Jungkook had texted that morning.

Jimin hadn’t heard from him in months. Not a word, not a glance. Now summer had crept in, the school year over, and the finality of it all pressed down on his chest.

He couldn’t believe it. Everything was over.

He approached slowly, his heart lurching with each step until he lowered himself onto the sand beside Jungkook. Jungkook barely moved, but Jimin could feel the tension thrumming through him—the hammering of his heart so loud it felt like it might echo across the beach.

“How have you been?” Jungkook asked after a moment, his voice raw, thin, as if dragged out of him.

Jimin hesitated, breath catching before he forced the truth out and admitted softly, “A little better now.”

Jungkook nodded, though his eyes stayed fixed on the horizon. He wanted—needed—to look at Jimin, to drown in those hazel eyes again.

But he couldn’t.

The ache in his chest hadn’t dulled since that night. The heartbreak wasn’t gone. Just numbed, like a wound that never healed.

“I’m leaving for New York tomorrow,” he whispered.

Jimin’s body went rigid. Fear gripped his throat, strangling him.

This was it.

Jungkook hadn’t called him here to reconcile or fix things. He’d called him to say goodbye.

Jimin fought the tears, fought the pain radiating through his chest, stealing his breath.

“I got admitted to Stony Brook University,” Jungkook forced out, each word cutting him open. “They have a very good program for baseball.”

Jimin inhaled sharply and finally turned toward him, their eyes locking for the first time in months. It was unbearable. So much unsaid, so much love buried under pain.

“You’re making your dream come true,” Jimin whispered, his voice trembling as he looked away again, back to the shimmering lake. “I’m happy for you.”

“I heard you got into the University of Toronto,” Jungkook said quickly, desperate to hold onto the thread of conversation, desperate to hear Jimin’s voice again.

Jimin nodded. “Yeah, I don’t know what I want to do yet. But… they have good programs and I'll be with Hoseok.” He paused, the words sitting sour in his mouth. The conversation felt wrong. Hollow. Pretending like they were casual acquaintances instead of two people whose hearts had been intertwined. Jimin hated it.

He stood up, ready to leave, but something held him back.

“Why did you ask me to come?” he whispered eventually, his voice fragile, fraying at the edges.

Jungkook startled. He stood up as well, then, slowly, he reached out and took Jimin’s hand, the touch so warm, so achingly familiar it almost broke Jimin.

“I just wanted you to know that… despite everything… you’re the most beautiful thing that’s ever happened to me.”

The words were steady, but Jungkook’s eyes shone with pain, with regret, with everything he couldn’t give Jimin.

Jimin’s lips trembled. He nodded, unable to speak, his throat choked with tears until they finally spilled, streaking down his cheeks. Jungkook reached up to brush them away, his thumb gentle, tender, as his other hand gripped Jimin’s tighter.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” Jungkook whispered, the apology slicing through both of them.

“I’m not mad at you,” Jimin breathed, though the tears betrayed him.

Jungkook bit down on his trembling lip, fighting back his own tears. He dropped his hand from Jimin’s cheek, but their fingers stayed entwined, white-knuckled, as if neither could let go.

“I hope you’re happy,” Jimin added softly. “I really do.”

Jungkook nodded. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye. He desperately wanted to hold Jimin back a little longer, but when Jimin pulled away, his body refused to follow. He stayed frozen on the sand, staring at Jimin. For one suspended second, they just looked at each other—broken, longing, still tethered.

Then Jimin reached out. His fingers threaded gently through Jungkook’s dark hair, and Jungkook leaned into the touch, closing his eyes, letting himself believe—just for a moment—that Jimin was still his.

“Next time I’ll see you,” Jimin whispered, voice breaking, “you’ll be a baseball star, Jeon Jungkook.”

And then he walked away.

Jungkook’s eyes followed him until the silhouette disappeared, and the emptiness hit him all at once. His chest caved, his throat burned, and for the first time in months, he didn’t fight the tears.

Jungkook left for the US to pursue college baseball the next day, joining a competitive program at Stony Brook University in New York.

From his very first season, he made an impression—quickly establishing himself as one of the team’s most reliable players, still the amazing batter he was in high school, drawing the eyes of scouts and sharpening his skills with every game. And although it was hard—being away from home, from his friends, from what he knew—he thrived in this new environment.

Meanwhile, Jimin studied media at the University of Toronto with Hoseok, who went for fashion design, while Taehyung moved to Vancouver after being scouted for a baseball program there.

Their lives split in different directions, each chasing something new, and even though they haunted each other’s thoughts, neither dared to reach out.

The months that followed for Jungkook were relentless, endless practices, long travel days for tournaments, and the high and low tides of competition. And though he thrived on the field, Christmas loomed heavy in his mind, and with it, the memory of Jimin.

Yoongi insisted he come home. Jungkook wasn’t sure he was ready. He longed for his brother, for the comfort of familiar faces, but home also meant his mother, and their relationship hadn’t been the same since she had caught him with Jimin.

Flights were more expensive than he could manage, but Yoongi covered the ticket, unwilling to let him spend Christmas alone. And so, after seven months, Jungkook returned—excited to see his friends, anxious about seeing his mother, and heavy with memories he wasn’t sure he wanted to face.

Dinner was awkward, his mother, once again, asked about girlfriends while the brothers exchanged knowing glances. Jungkook deflected, as always, with “I’m focusing on baseball.”

Later, in his old bedroom, Jungkook found everything exactly as he had left it, as though time had been frozen. He sat on the bed, pulling out his phone, when his gaze caught on a pile of unopened letters stacked on his desk. Ads, newsletters from Greenwood’s baseball team, and one official-looking envelope from his high school. He tore it open.

An alumni reunion. December 23rd.

The first thought that struck him was whether Jimin would be there. His fingers itched to text Taehyung, to ask outright if Jimin would attend, but in the end he didn’t.

He’d let fate decide.

The school looked just as it had a year ago, blanketed in snow.

The gymnasium had been transformed into a reception hall: tables laden with mediocre food from the regular caterer and drinks along the walls, a small stage and chairs arranged for speeches, lights strung across the ceiling, and chatter filling the air. The familiar smell of varnished floors and sports gear clung faintly in the air.

Jungkook scanned the room, spotted Taehyung and Hoseok by the bar, a few of his old teammates scattered around, other faces he hadn’t thought of in months.

But no Jimin.

He moved through the crowd, chatting, laughing, filling in old friends about Stony Brook and the pace of his new life. When Taehyung appeared, they hugged warmly, and when he turned to Hoseok, he braced himself. He knew Hoseok still carried resentment for how things had ended with Jimin, but Hoseok surprised him with a friendly hug, conversation smooth enough to ease some of Jungkook’s tension.

He tried to relax, laughing with old friends, and for a little while, the comfort of familiarity dulled the edge of his nerves.

Later, empty glass in hand, he headed for a refill, and that was when he saw it—a familiar ash-blond head at coat check.

He froze mid-step, glass limp in his hand.

Jimin.

His pulse stuttered violently, breath catching in his throat, every nerve alight, breath caught in his chest as he watched Jimin hand over his jacket, slip the ticket into his pocket, and step into the gym.

Their eyes found each other instantly, as if pulled by an invisible thread. Jimin’s steps faltered as shock washed over him, his face flashing with surprise before it softened into a smile—soft, shy and genuine—that made Jungkook’s heart ache.

Jungkook’s heart pounded so hard it hurt. His feet moved before he could think, carrying him toward Jimin. Jimin mirrored the movement without hesitation, as though neither could resist the magnetic pull between them.

“Hey,” Jungkook managed, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. His pulse hammered wildly. Jimin was just as breathtaking, maybe more.

“Hey,” Jimin answered with one of his gentle, signature smiles. “I didn’t know you were coming back for the holidays. Taehyung said you were staying in New York.” Jimin’s voice was cautious, and it unsettled Jungkook.

“Yeah,” Jungkook admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wasn’t planning to, but Yoongi insisted. He bought my ticket so I wouldn’t have to spend Christmas alone.”

“That’s kind of him.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook agreed, then after a beat, “You look good.”

Jimin’s lips parted, hesitation flickering. “You look—” more handsome than ever—“good too.” Jungkook’s dark hair was longer, slightly wavy, and Jimin had forgotten the difference in size between them.

The air between them thickened. A silence that wasn’t uncomfortable, just heavy, like every unspoken word from the past months was pressing down on them, begging to be set free. The tension was familiar and electric in a way they both recognized but refused to acknowledge.

“How’s Stony Brook?” Jimin asked, voice a little tentative.

“Great. Lots of practice and games, it’s competitive but… you know me. I love it.”

“I’m glad.” Jimin’s smile carried a spark of pride before turning playful. “I thought you’d be a star by now.”

Jungkook laughed, the sound rich and warm and exactly as he remembered it. It hit Jimin like a punch, knocking the air out of his lungs, because he’d missed it more than he wanted to admit.

“These things take time,” Jungkook chuckled. “I’m getting there.”

“I’m counting on you.” Jimin smirked before his voice softened, barely above a whisper, “It’s good to see you.”

“You too,” Jungkook replied, eyes locked on his, chest tightening with all the things he couldn’t say.

Silence stretched again, charged and unsteady. Jungkook drew a breath, stepped closer. “Jimin, I—”

But then a voice broke the moment.

“Hey, babe.”

A guy slipped next to Jimin, sliding an arm around his waist and pressing a kiss to his lips.

The world tilted. Jungkook froze, his chest caving. Jealousy surged hot and sharp, burning like acid in his veins at seeing some other guy touch Jimin. His Jimin.

He had forgotten the excruciating bite of that feeling, the all-consuming pain that spread in his chest.

“Sorry, I’m late. Couldn’t find a parking spot.” The stranger turned, smiling warmly at Jungkook.

Jungkook wanted to punch the guy in the face.

Jimin’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. “Huh… Adrian, this is Jungkook. An old friend from high school.”

“Adrian,” the guy said, extending a hand. “Jimin’s boyfriend.”

Jungkook shook it automatically, his body numb. His ears roared with the sound of his own heartbeat. This couldn’t be happening. Jimin couldn’t belong to someone else.

Jimin was meant for him. Jungkook had always believed that, somehow, someday, they’d find their way back to each other.

His gaze fell on the hand that was wrapped around Jimin's waist, pulling him close to another man's body—something he never allowed himself to do in public, and regret burned hot in his gut, because now he couldn’t think of one good reason why he had never let the world know that Jimin belonged to him—then he looked into Jimin's eyes.

Jimin seemed to want to say something, but couldn't find the words.

“Well, it was nice to see you,” Jungkook said finally, voice tight, “have a good night.”

And he walked away.

He downed a glass of disgustingly sweet punch at the bar, then another. Anger and heartbreak churned in his chest. His mind was reeling. Regret overwhelmed him. He wanted to go back, snatch Jimin away from that guy, and claim him. He wanted to prove to Jimin, to himself, to everyone in that room, that they were meant to be together.

He wanted to look, something sick and twisted begging him to look at Jimin and his new boyfriend, to witness what he could have had, to face his failure. Part of him welcomed the pain and jealousy, they were proof that what he had with Jimin hadn’t died.

Spotting Taehyung getting a refill down the bar, he made a beeline for him and cornered him.

“Why didn’t you tell me Jimin had a boyfriend?”

Taehyung turned to him in surprise but quickly ruled in his expression. “I didn’t know you’d be here.” He said calmly. “You weren’t supposed to come home.”

“You should’ve told me anyway.”

“Why?” Taehyung shot back. “I’m not even sure if they’re serious. For all I know, that guy’s just a rebound.” He defended, trying to keep his voice in check. “It just didn’t feel worth mentioning.”

“Why not?” Jungkook snapped.

“Because I knew how you’d react.”

“Yeah, and finding out this way was so much better.”

“Jimin’s my friend. He deserves to be happy.”

“I’m your friend too, remember?”

“Yes, and you deserve happiness as well. Which is why you need to forget about him. Move on. Like he did.”

The words cut deeper than Taehyung knew. Jungkook’s grip tightened on his glass until his knuckles went white. He drained it in one swallow and stormed out.

The cold bit at him outside, sweater thin against the night air. He sat on the steps, chest heaving. Jealousy and anger slowly gave way to a searing pain that consumed him, and he fought against the tears threatening to fall.

After a moment, Hoseok appeared, lowering himself beside him.

“If you came to lecture me about Jimin, no need. Taehyung already did.”

“That’s not why I’m here,” Hoseok said gently. “How do you feel?”

“Fucking great.”

“For what it’s worth,” Hoseok added, “I don’t think he’s serious about the guy. They’ve only been together a couple of months.”

“Taehyung says Jimin moved on.”

“He’s trying.”

Jungkook scoffed bitterly.

“You broke his heart, you know?” Hoseok pressed softly. “When you left last summer… he wasn’t himself. You can’t blame him for trying to heal.”

“I don’t blame him,” Jungkook whispered, his voice breaking. “I just wish it didn’t hurt so much.”

Hoseok rubbed a hand down Jungkook’s back, hesitant but gentle, and felt him slump under the touch.

“Is he… happy?” Jungkook forced the words out.

Hoseok sighed. “He’s working on it.”

Jungkook nodded, emotions crashing inside him—jealousy, sorrow, regret, longing. He was drowning in them. He was in love with Jimin, had been for almost a year now, and nothing had ever managed to lessen or change his feelings. He wondered if he’d have to live with that for the rest of his life. If Jimin were to turn out to be the one who got away.

The thought made him sick.

“I need to talk to him,” he said suddenly, standing.

Hoseok grabbed his arm. “Not here. Not in front of everyone.”

“I have to—”

“Tomorrow,” Hoseok insisted, firm. “You can talk to him tomorrow. If you cause a scene tonight, Jimin will never forgive you.”

At that, Jungkook relented, though the ache in his chest only deepened.

The next day, Jungkook drove to Jimin’s house.

He didn’t have a plan, didn’t know what he was going to say.

All he knew was that he needed to see him.

As he rang the doorbell, a sudden realization hit him—he should’ve texted Jimin first. But the fear of rejection had kept him from doing so, and now it was too late.

When the door opened, his breath caught in his throat. But the excitement that surged through him crashed instantly when he saw Jimin’s mother instead. She studied him for a moment, then recognition softened her expression and a warm smile lit her face.

“Jungkook?”

“Hi, Mrs. Park.” He bowed his head politely, his voice tight. “Sorry for showing up unannounced.”

“No worries.” Her smile deepened. “Jimin went out. He should be back soon. Do you want to come in and wait for him?”

Jungkook hesitated, then nodded. He stepped inside, the familiar scent of the house wrapping around him like a memory he’d almost forgotten. Nothing had changed, and somehow that soothed him.

“I’m glad to see you,” Mrs. Park said, gesturing for him to sit on the couch. “How’s New York?”

The question startled him. He hadn’t expected her to know about Stony Brook. He hadn’t expected Jimin to tell her.

“Good. Busy,” he replied cautiously.

“That’s good. Coffee?” she offered, already moving toward the kitchen. He accepted with a quick nod, hoping the warmth of it might calm his nerves.

“Jimin told me you got ranked best player on the team last semester,” she said as she returned, handing him a steaming mug. He took it carefully, murmuring his thanks, but his mind reeled.

How did Jimin know? Had he been keeping an eye on him? Asking Taehyung?

Mrs. Park tilted her head, waiting for him to respond, so he cleared his throat. “Yes. It’s just the beginning, though. It’s a lot more competitive than high school.”

“I bet it is.” Her smile softened into something almost mischievous. “But Jimin says you’re the best player he’s ever seen. He has no doubt you’ll be the next baseball star. You should see him—I didn’t think he’d ever get so obsessed with baseball.”

The words nearly knocked the breath out of him. For a moment, he couldn’t respond, his chest too tight, his heart swelling with something between confusion and an almost unbearable joy. Hope.

“How is he doing?” The question slipped out before he could stop himself.

Mrs. Park studied him, letting the silence stretch before she said, “He’s doing good.”

Jungkook nodded, starving for more, and thankfully, she went on.

“He chose to major in media—sports media, to be exact,” she added with a knowing smile. “I suppose I have you to thank for the influence.” Jungkook flushed, heat rising to his cheeks at the quiet implication.

“He’s been doing freelance reporting on club leagues,” she continued, her eyes flicking deliberately to Jungkook. In that instant, he understood—this was how Jimin had kept track of his progress in baseball.

“It’s a lot of work, but he’ll get there.”

“I know he will,” Jungkook said softly.

They spoke a little longer—about New York, baseball, home—until the sound of the front door jolted him. His heart leapt violently in his chest as he sprang to his feet, eyes fixed on the entrance.

And then Jimin walked in.

For a heartbeat, everything else fell away. Jimin froze, his wide eyes locking onto Jungkook’s. But before Jungkook could say a word, the moment shattered—because he wasn’t alone.

Adrian was right behind him.

The sight of him made Jungkook’s blood burn. Adrian smiled easily, stepping past Jimin, and the sound of Mrs. Park welcoming him barely reached Jungkook’s ears.

Jimin and Jungkook stared at each other across the room, hearts racing, breaths uneven. The air between them was electric, fragile, aching with everything they couldn’t say or do because they weren’t alone.

“Jungkook,” Mrs. Park interrupted gently, “why don’t you stay for dinner?”

Jungkook forced a smile, tearing his eyes away from Jimin. “That’s kind of you, but my mother is waiting for me. I should go—it’s getting late.”

“Come back anytime,” she said warmly.

He nodded, thanked her, turned to Jimin and hesitated, and eventually rushed for the door.

Jimin stood frozen, still staring, his chest tight and his pulse racing. The moment Jungkook slipped outside, he turned to Adrian, his voice unsteady.

“I’ll be right back.”

And then he bolted after Jungkook.

The cold air bit his cheeks as he scanned the street. He spotted Jungkook halfway to his car and called out, breathless—

“Jungkook!”

Jungkook stopped instantly, turning toward him. For a second, everything in him screamed to close the distance, to catch Jimin in his arms, to hold him like he used to. Jimin, too, seemed ready to run into him—until hesitation stopped him short and he walked the last couple of steps.

“Why did you come?” Jimin asked softly, his voice trembling with restraint.

“I don’t know. I—” Jungkook faltered, scrambling through the storm in his chest. “I should’ve texted you. I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.”

Jimin stepped closer, only two strides separating them now. “Why did you come?” he repeated, lower, shakier.

“I needed to see you again.” Jungkook’s voice cracked with honesty. “It’s been so long and I… I missed you.”

Jimin shuddered, every fiber of him screaming to close the gap and hold Jungkook. He wanted to. God, he wanted to. But the memories of heartbreak still cut too deep, chaining his feet to the ground, and the thought of Adrian stopped him.

Adrian was nothing like Jungkook, but he was stable and comfortable. Things were easy with him, and he cared about Jimin in a way that made him feel like he was nursed back to life after his heartbreak.

Nothing had changed. Jungkook didn't even live in the same country anymore, their lives were now so far apart, it was over. It had to stay over.

But despite all that, he felt the words rising up inside him.

I missed you too.

But they got stuck, and Jungkook spoke before Jimin could get them out.

“Does he make you happy?” Jungkook asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Slowly, Jimin nodded. The movement felt like a betrayal, the words that followed even worse. “It’s simple with him.” His voice carried no anger, no bitterness—only regret.

Jungkook’s throat tightened, eyes burning with unshed tears. The pain was raw, excruciating, tearing through him like it had months ago on the beach when they’d said goodbye. He was unprepared for it, for all of it.

And then he broke, surrendered to his need to feel Jimin close, and he reached out to pull Jimin into his arms.

Jimin collapsed against him instantly, hands clutching Jungkook’s jacket as though holding on for dear life. He buried his face in Jungkook’s neck, breath shuddering, while Jungkook held him tighter and tighter, as though he’d never let go again, as though he could force the distance between them away.

“Merry Christmas, Jimin,” Jungkook whispered into his hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head.

When he pulled back, Jimin swayed, stumbling without Jungkook’s warmth and touch. Their eyes lingered on each other, then Jungkook turned away and got into his car.

Jimin watched him drive off, his chest torn open, his heart raw and bleeding.

Jimin couldn’t sleep that night.

He tossed and turned, suffocated by the heat of Adrian’s body beside him, heart aching in a way he’d thought he’d left behind.

Finally, he sat up at the edge of the bed, shoulders slumped, head bowed low. His chest was heavy, throat raw as he fought against the tears burning his eyes, the knot twisting in his stomach, the relentless urge to reach for his phone and type Jungkook’s name to message him.

But the tears slipped free anyway, hot and silent as they streaked down his cheeks. His hand trembled as he unlocked his phone—only to freeze when the mattress shifted under Adrian’s weight.

“Babe?”

Jimin inhaled sharply, hurriedly wiping his face.

“You okay?” Adrian’s voice was still thick with sleep, but gentle.

Jimin nodded quickly, refusing to turn around. “Yeah.”

“Can’t sleep?”

His hand swiped across his face again, desperate to erase the evidence of tears. He nodded once more.

“Come,” Adrian murmured, pulling back the blanket and making space for him.

Reluctantly, Jimin lay back down, body stiff at first, then loosening under Adrian’s familiar warmth. He closed his eyes, forcing his mind to go blank.

Adrian leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against his lips. Jimin let him. And in the darkness, with his heart breaking anew—and though he knew he couldn’t compare the two—he did the only thing he could to ease the pain—

He pretended it was Jungkook kissing him.

Christmas came and went.

Jimin debated texting Jungkook and, in the end, didn’t. He was too afraid to revisit the past, to rekindle feelings that had taken him months to bury.

Christmas was better than the previous year in the sense that his mother managed to keep her spirits up. Adrian had come over for dessert before going back to celebrate with his family, and Jimin’s mother was in a bad mood again.

Now Jimin couldn’t stand the suffocating quiet of the house anymore. His thoughts kept returning to last Christmas, to that enchanted time when everything was new with Jungkook, when time itself was suspended while they spent every waking minute together.

So he shoved his feet into his shoes, pulled on his jacket, and left while his mother was cleaning in the kitchen.

His steps crunched over the snow as he wandered aimlessly down the street, thoughts circling back relentlessly to last Christmas. He remembered the Italian restaurant, the hockey game, Greenwood pool, the date that felt like magic, the day with Jungkook that had left him breathless with hope.

On impulse, he turned and ran up the street, lungs burning from the icy air, the echo of his boots sharp against the pavement. He couldn’t stop. He had to see it again, to be close to that memory. Close to Jungkook.

The pool was closed, but the outdoor area had once more been transformed into an ice rink. The sight of it—silent, empty, waiting—hit him like a punch. Jimin stepped closer to the rink. He shut his eyes and tried to summon it back: their laughter, Jungkook’s smile, the warmth of his lips pressed to his in the freezing air.

When he opened his eyes, Jungkook was there, standing across the rink.

Jimin froze, breath snagging in his throat. For a moment, he thought grief had conjured the vision, that he missed him so badly he was hallucinating his presence. But then Jungkook moved, and Jimin’s heart nearly stopped.

He was real.

He was here.

And Jimin ran.

Jungkook picked up speed too, circling the edge of the rink under the awning, and they closed the distance fast. Jimin launched himself at him, and Jungkook caught him effortlessly, arms locking tight around his waist, bracing against the impact.

Their mouths met, starved and feverish, and Jimin’s sob of relief was swallowed whole by Jungkook as he devoured him.

Jimin’s fingers raked through Jungkook’s hair, tugging hard, and Jungkook answered with a low, guttural moan. Adjusting his grip around Jimin, he held him tighter, and Jimin wound his legs around his waist, cupping his face with trembling hands as their kiss deepened.

They kissed desperately—teeth clashing, tongues tangling, claiming—as if they could burn away months of ache in one embrace. The cold vanished, the world ceased to exist, and there was nothing left but them.

Eventually, their urgency slowed, kisses softening into something tender, lingering, savoring. They reveled in the rediscovery of each other, trading kisses—some languorous, others heated— until Jimin finally pulled back, eyes locked on Jungkook’s. Reality flickered through him. He realized what he just did, he thought of Adrian, but the thought came and went in a heartbeat and carried no regret or guilt.

Because this—the kisses, the touches, Jungkook’s body pressed so close it felt like part of his own—was something he could never regret.

Jungkook’s warm presence brought Jimin back to life. Feelings he had buried deep surged up, uncontainable, undeniable. And he knew then, with a clarity that broke him open, that Adrian could never compare. No one could.

Jungkook held him close, eyes locked on his. Jimin cupped his face with trembling fingers, tracing every curve, memorizing every line, as if he still couldn’t believe Jungkook was real and right here.

“I missed you too,” Jimin whispered, the words tumbling out at last, brushing Jungkook’s dark bangs from his eyes. He was surprised he had so easily forgotten how beautiful he was.

“Jimin,” Jungkook breathed, voice breaking on the name.

He slowly set Jimin back on his feet, but his hands stayed fixed around his waist, as if letting go would undo everything. They stood there, silent, staring, drinking each other in until tears brimmed in Jungkook’s eyes. Jimin reached up to wipe them away, though he was fighting his own.

Jungkook folded him back into his arms, burying his face in Jimin’s neck, inhaling his familiar scent.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” he whispered. Jimin froze.

And then he realized.

Today marked exactly a year since they came to the ice-rink for the first time. His chest cracked open, months of grief spilling out as tears ran down his cheeks. He broke apart, and Jungkook held him tighter, kissed the tears away, lips brushing cheeks, then his mouth, everything he could reach.

They clung to each other like lifelines, kissing until their mouths went numb.

Then Jimin’s phone rang. The sound shattered the moment, and he cursed as he pulled it out with shaky hands. His face went pale at the caller ID, and Jungkook knew instantly who it was. Jimin declined the call and looked up at Jungkook.

“I’ll drive you home,” Jungkook said softly, resigned. Jimin wanted to beg for one more minute, to stay here suspended with him, but the moment was gone.

They walked back to Jungkook’s car in silence. Jimin slid into the passenger seat, drowning in memories, while Jungkook sat with his hands on the wheel, staring out into the distance and not moving to start the engine.

“Kook?” Jimin asked, voice small.

Jungkook’s voice cracked when he spoke. “We’re not getting back together, are we?”

Jimin’s breath shuddered out. He looked at Jungkook’s face—the devastation etched into every line—and his heart nearly collapsed.

“I should’ve fought for you,” Jungkook whispered, voice raw and breaking. “It feels like I’m only good at losing you… like it’s the only thing I know how to do. I keep fucking things up with you.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong… It’s just not our time,” Jimin replied softly, sadness weighing down every word. “You’re in New York, and I’m here—”

“We could do long distance,” Jungkook rushed, hope trembling in his voice. “Taehyung and Hoseok do. They make it work. New York isn’t that far—it’s just a couple of hours by plane—”

“What’s different this time?” Jimin cut in. His voice shook, but his eyes stayed firm. And he waited.

He waited for Jungkook to say that he was comfortable with who he was now.

He waited for Jungkook to say he had talked to his mother and wasn’t going to hide anymore.

He waited for Jungkook to say he was ready to be with a man.

He waited for Jungkook to say he was ready to be with him.

Jungkook faltered. His breath hitched, words dying in his throat. He looked away, eyes fixed on the empty parking lot. Silence fell, long and suffocating. Then he released the brake and drove.

He knew Jimin was right. Nothing had changed. His mother still refused to accept him as he was. He was still learning to accept himself. And Jimin was with someone else—someone who could give him stability, who didn’t come with the weight of shame and unfinished battles. Someone who didn’t ask him to hide.

Someone who gave him what Jungkook couldn’t.

And Jungkook had baseball and a career that demanded all of him.

Jimin was right.

This wasn’t their time.

He parked in front of Jimin’s house. Neither moved. Eventually, Jungkook’s hand lifted, fingertips brushing along Jimin’s cheek, a touch so light it made him shiver. Jimin turned toward him, aching, eyes burning.

“One day,” Jungkook said, voice steady, eyes locked on his. “It’ll be our time.”

Jimin’s throat tightened as he nodded, barely holding back the sob clawing its way up.

“And when it is,” Jungkook whispered, “I’m never letting you go.”

Jimin moved to kiss him, but stopped. It felt wrong. It broke Jimin’s heart to pull away, but he knew if he lingered, he’d never leave this car.

He wrenched the door open, cold air flooding in. The night swallowed him whole as he ran for his house, leaving Jungkook in the silence of his car, heart shattered but still clinging to hope.

One day, it’ll be their turn.

Jungkook went home and packed.

He couldn’t stay another day in this town.

He told his mother goodbye with a practiced excuse and let his brother drive him to the airport. Yoongi didn’t ask questions—he never had to. Jungkook suspected he already knew it was about Jimin.

They hugged tightly at the drop-off zone, Yoongi’s hand firm and steady as it rubbed along Jungkook’s back.

“Call me if you need anything,” Yoongi said.

Jungkook nodded, swallowing hard. He tried to hold back, but the tears still broke free, slipping down his cheeks before he could swipe them away.

“It’ll be okay,” Yoongi murmured. “Give it some time.”

Another nod. Then he grabbed his suitcase and disappeared into the terminal, the weight of leaving pressing down on him heavier than the bag in his hand.

He had lost Jimin three times now.

Freshman year came to an end.

Jimin spent his summer working part-time at a local coffee shop and studying.

Meanwhile, Jungkook applied for a baseball summer camp to hone his skills in the Cape Cod Baseball League.

They hadn’t spoken since Christmas. Jimin had half-expected to see him at the New Year’s Eve party with their friends, but Taehyung told him Jungkook had flown back to New York. And despite the sting of heartbreak and disappointment, Jimin told himself it was better this way.

His relationship with Adrian was steady, almost quiet. No fights, no passion. Every date felt the same. But Adrian’s presence anchored him, kept him tethered. Without it, Jimin feared he would unravel completely. And so he kept going.

On September 1st, lying in bed with his phone in hand, Jimin scrolled through his conversation with Jungkook. He typed, erased, typed again, erasing every word until nothing was left. Finally, he sent something simple—too simple for what he really wanted to say—and locked his screen, heart racing.

His phone buzzed almost instantly.

happy birthday

Jungkook

thank you :)

Jimin took a deep breath, relieved that Jungkook had answered.

how are u?

Jungkook

good

i spent the summer at baseball camp

how was it?

Jungkook

intense

but fun

how was ur summer?

stayed home

studied

worked at a coffee shop

Jungkook

Jimin the barista

didn't see that one coming kkk

mock me all u want

at least i know how to make good coffee

Jungkook

can't wait to try it

Jimin felt a rush of heat spread across his cheeks. He was dying to tell Jungkook that he missed him, but instead he wrote:

still not a baseball star?

getting disappointed here

i bet everything on u

Jungkook

haha

working on it

don't lose faith in me just yet

i won't

i trust u

They texted late into the night, just like when goldenboy109 and calicocat13 once spent hours talking about their dreams, fears, insecurities, and hopes for the future.

And just like before, they couldn’t stop.

The next day, they texted again.

And the day after that.

Soon, it became routine. Sometimes it was just a quick “hi,” other times it was long conversations about life, the latest movies, or new albums from their favorite groups.

Jungkook kissed a girl or two at parties—one for a dare, another just to see if he’d feel anything, if anything had changed or was different. But like with Cassie, there was nothing.

At Halloween, he let a guy kiss him—a friend of a friend passing through town, older by a year, sweet and fun. The kiss was nice. But it wasn’t Jimin.

The first semester of sophomore year ended, and Christmas rolled around. Jungkook flew back home, eager to see his brother and old friends. Yoongi had decided to host another Christmas dinner, bringing their group back together. Surrounded by laughter, dessert, and drinks, Jungkook felt a piece of him coming back.

He was sitting on the couch next to Hoseok when Hoseok suddenly said, “Jimin told me you guys have been texting.”

The flatness in his tone unsettled Jungkook. Last time, Hoseok had been kind and understanding. Jungkook thought he was on his side.

“Yeah,” Jungkook admitted. “We keep in touch.”

“So then you know he’s not in town for the holidays.” Hoseok’s voice tilted upward at the end, turning the statement into something sharper—almost a challenge.

Jungkook’s stomach dropped.

He hadn’t known. Jimin never mentioned his plans for Christmas, and Jungkook—naïve, hopeful—assumed he’d be home celebrating with his mother like he always did. He hadn’t told Jimin he was coming back either, thinking Jimin knew he would. After their kiss last Christmas, he thought they had a quiet agreement that they’d meet again next Christmas. He was so confident Jimin would be there, waiting for him, ready to meet again, that he couldn’t help but be swallowed by disappointment.

“Where is he?” The question scraped out of his throat, betraying him.

“In Blue Mountain with Adrian,” Hoseok replied flatly. “On a ski trip.”

The words hit like a punch. Bile burned his throat. Jungkook had been so sure, so certain, that he’d see Jimin over the holidays. He hadn’t even questioned it. And in all their late-night talks, Jimin never once mentioned Adrian, and Jungkook had convinced himself that silence meant the relationship was over.

He realized now he’d been living in a lie. A world he had built for himself—and it shattered in an instant.

And it fucking hurt.

“I didn’t know they were still together,” he whispered, voice low and tight.

“They are,” Hoseok said simply.

Jungkook waited a minute before jumping up and running upstairs to his room. He closed the door, took out his phone, and typed quickly with trembling fingers.

ur not home?

Jimin

why?

i came back

i wanted to see u

Jimin

i didn’t know u were coming back

u never said anything…

when are u going back?

on the 2nd

after NYE

Jimin

r u going to Tae’s party?

yes

Jimin

i’ll be there

Jimin locked his phone, breath short and uneven, and turned to Adrian, who was sitting beside him on the couch, eyes fixed on the movie.

“I’m going home on the 31st,” he said.

It took a moment for Adrian to register the words, his focus slowly tearing away from the TV.

“Weren’t we supposed to spend New Year’s Eve here? With my family?”

Jimin shook his head. He was already opening Google on his phone, scrolling through car rentals.

“I want to be with my friends for the new year,” he answered, voice evasive. Too busy booking a car, he didn’t notice Adrian’s eyes narrowing on him as he paused the movie.

“Who just texted you?” Adrian asked suddenly.

Jimin froze.

“Taehyung,” He lied, avoiding Adrian’s eyes.

“Not Jungkook?” Adrian snapped, his voice sharp and icy. He had noticed the smiles over the past few months, the way Jimin lingered on his phone at night, the quiet thrill in his expression as he typed. He’d resisted checking, resisted the itch to go through Jimin’s phone. But eventually, he’d caved—scanned Jimin’s messages with Jungkook. Nothing incriminating, no proof, but enough to know, enough to feel something was going on.

Jimin looked up, ready to deny it again, but Adrian sighed heavily and sat up straighter.

“Don’t lie to me, Jimin. That’s not what we do.” His tone was firm, unflinching. “I know you’ve been texting him. I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but something is.”

“It’s not what you think,” Jimin whispered quickly. For once, it wasn’t a lie. He hadn’t cheated on Adrian—except for that one kiss last Christmas, nothing had happened. “He’s just a friend.”

“A friend you used to date.”

Silence fell. Jimin’s gaze dropped to the floor, a quiet admission.

“It’s been two years, and he’s still there,” Adrian continued, his voice tight with a mix of anger and defeat. “Like a fucking ghost. Always at the back of your mind. Always part of the equation.”

“I’m sorry.” The words were soft, broken, because they were the only truth he could offer. He couldn’t lie to Adrian—not about this.

“I know you told me you might never stop loving him,” Adrian said, almost to himself. “But I thought that was just because the break-up was fresh, because you were young and in pain. I thought it would fade with time.”

When they’d first met, Jimin had been honest—painfully honest—about Jungkook. About how it had ended before it could begin, how it still haunted him. Adrian had listened, had understood. He believed time would heal it. He believed he could make Jimin fall in love with him and make him forget his high school love.

But he hadn’t.

“You need to decide, Jimin,” Adrian said at last, his voice low, firm. “Either you want to be with me, or you want to keep chasing this guy for God knows how long, but I'm not doing this anymore.”

It sounded like an ultimatum, and Jimin hated it. But he couldn’t blame Adrian. Dating someone who still carried a ghost in their chest—who still loved someone else—wasn’t fair. Adrian had the right to want someone who chose him fully, who could give him 100%.

And Jimin wasn’t sure he could be that person for him.

Jungkook was nervous.

The party raged around him—music blaring, people dancing, laughing, drinking, voices colliding in chaotic cheer—but all he could do was keep his eyes fixed on the front door.

Every time it opened, his heart lurched into his throat.

But Jimin still wasn’t there.

He’d texted earlier to say he was driving back home. Jungkook wasn’t exactly known for his patience, and tonight it abandoned him completely. He pulled out his phone, only to realize with a jolt of panic that the battery had died.

His pulse kicked into overdrive. He bolted to Taehyung, blurting out a request for a charger. Tae pointed upstairs toward his bedroom, and Jungkook didn’t waste a second. He flew up the stairs, hands fumbling through the mess until he spotted the charger still in the wall. He plugged in his phone and stared at the dark screen, chest tight, until it finally flickered to life.

A flood of missed calls and texts came through all at once. Jungkook’s stomach dropped as he scrolled. Updates from Jimin.

The roads were packed.

Their song came on the radio.

It started to snow.

He was running late.

Definitely running late.

And then the voicemail.

Jungkook pressed play, and Jimin’s panicked voice filled his ears, raw and trembling.

Kook, something happened. I’m stuck in Richmond Hill. I— I don’t know how to get to Tae’s. I can’t find an Uber and I can’t leave the car here… I don’t know what to do. Call me back.

The timestamp was over an hour ago.

“Fuck,” Jungkook hissed, immediately hitting call. His leg bounced anxiously as it rang, heart hammering until finally—

“Kook?”

Relief and dread crashed into him at once. “Jimin, are you hurt?”

“No, I'm fine,” Jimin said, and, although he sounded on the verge of tears, Jungkook let relief wash over him.

“Where are you?”

“Headford and Leslie,” Jimin’s voice came thin, fragile, like he’d been crying. Jungkook’s chest ached.

“Don’t move. I’ll come get you.”

“Okay,” Jimin whispered.

“Keep your phone with you.”

“Okay.”

They hung up, and Jungkook didn’t waste a second. He bounded downstairs, nearly colliding with Taehyung and Hoseok in the kitchen.

“I’m going to get Jimin,” he said in a rush, already halfway to the door before they could ask questions.

Snow crunched beneath his shoes as he sprinted to his car. The streets were layered with white, slick from the storm that had blown in after Christmas. It was late, though, and most people were home celebrating the new year.

Jungkook gripped the wheel and pulled out, driving faster than reason allowed, given the roads. His heart was racing faster than the engine, and the only thought in his head was Jimin—cold, alone, stranded.

The GPS said nearly an hour.

Too long.

Far too long.

Jimin was shivering in the car.

He kept glancing around the empty street, breath fogging the window, praying Jungkook would arrive soon.

After what felt like the longest hour of his life, headlights cut through the dark, and Jimin sat up. The car pulled in front of his, and the second he recognized it, he bolted from the cold interior of the rental.

Jungkook jumped out, arms already open, and Jimin threw himself into them. Jungkook caught him in one smooth rush, holding him tight, nose buried in his hair.

“Fuck, Jimin,” Jungkook rasped, his chest heaving as he pulled back to study him— eyes red, pale cheeks streaked with dried tears. “What happened?”

“I ran out of gas,” Jimin admitted, bottom lip trembling.

Jungkook frowned. “You didn’t check the tank?”

“I thought I’d have enough to get to Tae’s,” Jimin murmured, fresh tears welling. “I didn’t want to stop and waste time.” Gently, Jungkook brushed ash-blond strands away from his eyes and offered a small smile.

“Don’t cry,” he whispered. “You’re okay now. I’m here.”

Reluctantly, Jimin peeled back as Jungkook slid into the car to check the tank. A moment later, he returned.

“Yeah, it’s empty,” he confirmed. “There’s a station down the street. We’ll grab a can, fill the tank up, then drive to Tae’s.”

Jimin nodded, cheeks hot with shame. He knew he’d been reckless—so desperate to see Jungkook that he ignored common sense. But now, with Jungkook beside him, none of it mattered.

They drove together to the gas station, bought a can, and returned. Jimin watched as Jungkook refueled, then tested the engine.

“All good,” Jungkook declared, stepping out and holding the door for him. “You okay to drive?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Follow me, we’ll meet at Tae’s.” He smiled gently, brushing Jimin’s cheek. But Jimin caught his hand before he could drop it.

“Can we go back to my house instead?”

Jungkook blinked, surprised. Jimin rushed to explain. “I don’t feel like partying anymore.”

A beat, then Jungkook nodded. “Okay. Let’s take you home.”

They drove in two separate cars, trailing through the snow back to Jimin’s place.

Jungkook felt disappointment gnaw at him. This wasn’t how he wanted the night to go. He’d dreamed of seeing Jimin again, of finally being near him before leaving for New York, but instead, hours had been wasted. And yet, even with that frustration, all he could think about was how badly he had missed him.

He parked in front of Jimin’s house and waited as Jimin pulled in behind. They met in the glow of the porch light, and Jungkook’s breath caught. Jimin looked just as beautiful as he remembered, maybe even more.

“Feeling better?” Jungkook asked quietly.

“Yes. Thank you,” Jimin said. “For coming to my rescue.”

Jungkook chuckled softly. “Anytime.”

He hesitated, unwilling to walk away, but managed to take a step back. Jimin’s hand suddenly gripped his arm to hold him back.

“My mother’s not home tonight,” Jimin admitted after a pause. His chin lifted, eyes flicking up to meet Jungkook’s.

“Do you wanna come in?”

Jungkook swallowed hard, heart hammering, and nodded.

Inside, the house was silent and still. They slipped out of coats and shoes in the entryway, and when Jimin turned toward him, Jungkook couldn’t hold back any longer. He grabbed him, pulled him close, and their mouths crashed together.

Jimin moaned into the kiss, body pressed tight to the wall as Jungkook’s hands gripped him. Months of bottled-up longing poured out, raw and unrestrained. Jungkook was overwhelmed by how natural it felt. Even after months apart, kissing Jimin was like slipping back into something he’d always known. His body remembered everything: the heat of his skin, the smooth suppleness beneath his fingertips, the way Jimin’s shape molded so perfectly against him. He clutched tighter around his waist, pressing him further into the wall, his own body trembling with the ache to feel more.

It still wasn’t enough.

A shiver of pure pleasure raced through him when Jimin raked his fingers along his nape and tugged at his hair, pulling a low groan from deep in his chest. Jungkook slid his hands lower, curling them beneath the backs of Jimin’s thighs, and lifted him with ease. Jimin’s soft gasp and breathless moans wrapped around him like fire, feeding the hunger neither of them could contain anymore.

In the silence and darkness of the house, Jungkook carried him toward the stairs, then up to the first floor, their mouths still fused, steps steady despite the storm inside him. All he could think about was getting Jimin to his room, back to that place, that bed, where they had once lost themselves in endless kisses and tentative touches, where they had learned each other piece by piece. Tonight, he needed to reclaim that space, to make it theirs again.

“Kook, wait—” Jimin broke the kiss as they reached his bedroom, breathless. Jungkook stilled as Jimin searched his face, still caught between wanting him and needing to speak.

“You didn’t ask me why I wasn’t home for Christmas,” Jimin whispered.

Jungkook’s jaw tightened. He drew in a sharp breath.

“Hoseok told me you were in Blue Mountain.”

Jimin cupped Jungkook’s face, thumbs caressing his cheeks while he stared into his eyes.

“Did he say with who?” Jimin’s finally brought himself to ask, his voice trembling.

“Yeah.”

“So you know I’ve been with Adrian—”

“I don’t care.” Jungkook cut in, voice firm, eyes unwavering. He adjusted his grip around Jimin and leaned closer, lips brushing Jimin’s as he whispered, “I don’t care that you were with him, or that you’ve been with him this whole time.” His voice broke slightly, soft and unguarded. “All that matters is that you’re here now. With me.”

Jimin’s chest heaved. His hands shook slightly as he held Jungkook’s face.

“I’m not with him anymore,” he whispered, voice trembling but sure. “I can’t be with him when all I think about is you.”

“Good,” Jungkook said, voice low and raspy. “That means you’re all mine now.”

Jimin seized with a shiver—a happy one, excited, relieved.

Yes, now he was all Jungkook’s.

He let him carry him into the bedroom, mouths finding each other again, slotting perfectly together, tongues tracing the seams of lips, hands exploring, reclaiming what had once been theirs. Jungkook set Jimin on the floor, but Jimin stumbled, dragging him down in his fall, and they tumbled across the hardwood.

A breathless chuckle escaped them, but they didn’t stop.

Jungkook sat up, tugged off his hoodie and t-shirt in one swift motion, and tossed them aside before peeling Jimin’s sweater over his head too. Their bare skin met again, warm and buzzing with arousal, and Jungkook captured Jimin’s mouth in another feverish kiss while his fingers worked at Jimin’s jeans.

“Kook—” Jimin didn’t even know what he wanted to say. Wait. Don’t stop. Are you sure?

Jungkook tugged the jeans off, then paused, eyes roaming over Jimin’s body stretched out beneath him, more exposed than he had ever been. Jungkook thought he might be scared—nervous, hesitant about crossing this threshold with another man. But all he could think was: Finally.

Settling between Jimin’s legs, he pushed his boxers down and drank him in with greedy eyes, staring as though discovering him for the first time.

Jimin held his breath, heart pounding with anticipation. Jungkook bent low, pressing a kiss beside his belly button, soft and warm. He moved lower and kissed his skin again, then a little more to the side, and finally, down the crease of his hip. Jimin’s breath caught when Jungkook’s hot exhale fanned across his cock, and a low whimper escaped him when Jungkook brushed a kiss against the flushed cockhead.

“Oh, God,” Jimin gasped as Jungkook licked a long stripe from base to tip, reveling in the sharp jerk of Jimin’s cock.

Jungkook’s heart hammered, but his mind felt strangely calm. He didn’t know what to do next or how to do it, ignored the mechanics, had never done this before—but he was with Jimin, and he loved him. That was all that mattered. The rest he could figure out.

And so he did.

His fingers wrapped slowly around Jimin’s length, stroking once, then again, memorizing every gasp and twitch. Another stroke, another, until Jimin was unraveling, fingers clawing at the floor, lips parted in broken moans. Jungkook leaned in, lapping at the leaking head before sliding his mouth down the length, swallowing him whole.

It was harder than he expected—keeping his teeth in check, letting his jaw go slack, working his tongue just right—and yet it felt natural. He wanted this. He wanted him.

He bobbed his head, tongue pressing along the underside, circling the head, experimenting, and Jimin let him, moans spilling freely. It wasn’t the most practiced touch Jimin had ever felt, but it was the best. Because it was Jungkook.

And even as he tried to hold on, tried to make it last, his body betrayed him. His hands shot into Jungkook’s hair.

“Kook, I—” A moan broke the words when Jungkook’s tongue pressed into his slit. “Close. I’m—”

He never finished. The orgasm ripped through him, blinding and all-consuming, and he shut his eyes against the darkness at the edges of his vision.

But Jungkook didn’t stop. He swallowed him down, no hesitation, no revulsion—none of the things Jimin had braced himself for. Instead, Jungkook kissed the softening length once more, reverent, before rising and pulling him gently to his feet.

“On the bed,” he murmured, guiding Jimin toward the covers.

Jimin sprawled back, breathless, as Jungkook stripped off his jeans and underwear. Jimin’s gaze devoured him, heat simmering low in his stomach.

“Photos didn’t do you justice,” he breathed. “You’re even more beautiful in reality.”

Jungkook grinned and bent to kiss him, long and deep, before Jimin turned to his nightstand, retrieving lube and a pack of condoms. He laid them between them, eyes searching Jungkook’s face.

“We don’t have to—” he couldn’t help but whisper, but Jungkook shook his head.

“It’s all I’ve wanted for years,” Jungkook said as he grabbed the bottle, squeezing lube onto his fingers and rubbing them together to warm it. He was a virgin, but not ignorant—research and instinct (and a lot of porn) guided him now, sharpened by the stubborn edge of his natural competitiveness.

Relieved, Jimin spread himself open, hands bracing the backs of his thighs, shockingly unashamed and inviting. Jungkook shuffled closer, brushing tentative fingers across the tight ring of muscle, circling gently before leaning down to kiss him.

“Show me,” he whispered against Jimin’s lips. “Show me how you like it.”

Jimin reached down, guiding Jungkook’s hand, pressing his finger forward.

“Start with one,” he breathed.

Jungkook obeyed, easing a finger inside, eyes locked on Jimin’s face. In and out, slowly, carefully, watching as Jimin’s hole swallowing it, monitoring every flicker of expression to be sure he wasn’t hurting him.

“Another,” Jimin urged.

He added a second finger, feeling Jimin tense, then gradually relax around him.

“Yes,” Jimin gasped. “That’s it. Yes.”

The words drove him on, pushing deeper, experimenting until he found a spot that made Jimin writhe and moan, hips rolling in desperate rhythm. Jimin’s cock hardened again, precum streaking his stomach, body aching for more.

“I’m ready,” he finally moaned, voice urgent, hands reaching blindly for Jungkook.

Jungkook’s mind went blank with want and need for Jimin. He fumbled for a condom, ripped the foil with his teeth, and rolled it over his throbbing length, groaning at the simple relief of touching himself. He slathered on lube, giving a few hurried strokes before positioning himself between Jimin’s spread thighs.

Jimin’s hands guided him in, one clutching the back of his neck, the other steadying his wrist until the cockhead pressed through and stretched him open, inch by inch.

“Fuck,” Jungkook rasped, arms braced on either side of Jimin’s head, sweat already beading at his temples. This wasn’t like anything he had imagined. Jimin was tight and warm around him, better than anything he had ever experienced. He thought of the pictures and videos they had once exchanged, of all the filthy things he had fantasized about doing, but now—here—he was too overwhelmed to do anything except lose himself in the sensation of being inside Jimin at last.

Jimin moaned, pulled him into another kiss, and gasped as Jungkook began to move, slow at first, then faster, desperate and unstoppable.

“Fuck, Jimin.” Jungkook’s eyes locked onto his, dark and shining, as their bodies found a rhythm of their own, raw and consuming, chasing pleasure like it was the only thing that had ever mattered.

They kissed again, lazy and unhurried between the ragged breaths, tongues brushing, tasting, needing, bodies entwined, closer than they could ever be. Jungkook’s arms were planted firmly on either side of Jimin’s face, and their hands found each other, fingers lacing tight. Neither wanted to change positions. This was perfect. This was their first time, after years of anticipation, and neither wanted to miss a single second of it.

“Is it good for you too?” Jungkook asked, voice rough, pushing through the haze of blinding arousal, desperate to do things right, desperate to please.

“Yes,” Jimin whispered back, eyes hazy as he searched Jungkook’s. “Feels so good.”

He rocked his hips up, and Jungkook seized with pleasure above him. Jimin did it again, and again, until he found the angle that had Jungkook’s thick cock brushing perfectly against that hidden spot inside. Electricity shot through him, his whole body buzzing with a pleasure he had never known before.

Jungkook let Jimin take, let him move, watching with awe how his touch, his kiss, his body could unravel him completely. He was undone by the sight of Jimin writhing beneath him, trembling and reaching closer to the edge.

“Kook—” Jimin whimpered, voice breaking high, fingers clutching Jungkook’s hands like a lifeline.

“Close?” Jungkook murmured against his lips, and Jimin nodded frantically.

Jungkook reached between their bodies, wrapping his long fingers around Jimin’s leaking cock, stroking in time with his thrusts. Jimin’s back arched, a broken gasp tearing from his throat as his orgasm suddenly ripped through him, hot release streaking his stomach.

The vision—Jimin undone, trembling, spilling in his hand—fried Jungkook’s brain, and his own climax hit him hard, barreling through his body with an intensity he had never experienced or anticipated.

White-hot waves of pleasure drowned him as he chanted Jimin’s name like a prayer, spilling into the condom, feeling Jimin tighten and throb around him.

It took a long moment for either of them to come back to themselves. Jungkook was still breathing hard, chest heaving, eyes glazed with pleasure as he kept his gaze locked on Jimin.

A shy smile appeared on Jimin's lips, and Jungkook could have sworn, despite the darkness of the room, that Jimin was blushing.

Chapter 5 Notes:

Hi everyone!
Final chapter of this story that was supposed to be a short one and that somehow turned into 5 chapters and over 50K 😅 (told you I sucked at short stories BUT I refuse to back down from a challenge so I'll be trying again 💪🏻)
Anyway! I hope you enjoy this last chapter of baseball player Jungkook and sweet Jimin ❤️
As usual, thanks for your comments and support 🥰
Happy reading!

Chapter Text

Jungkook woke up disoriented, unsure of where he was for a fleeting second.

Then last night’s memories flooded back, and the weight of Jimin’s body pressed warmly against his side anchored him to the present. A huge smile spread across his face. He curled closer, relishing Jimin’s pliant, sleepy warmth as he gathered him into his arms.

He buried his nose in the soft ash-blond hair, pressing against the curve of Jimin’s neck and inhaling the familiar scent of skin after a night of sex and sleep. A small sound escaped Jimin’s lips, and Jungkook found his mouth. Jimin kissed him back lazily, eyes fluttering open when Jungkook pulled away.

“Happy new year,” Jungkook whispered with a grin, watching as a smile slowly unfurled across Jimin’s face.

“Happy new year,” Jimin echoed softly.

Jungkook kissed him again, arms tightening around him, playful energy bubbling under his skin. They ended up tangled under the covers, wrestling and giggling, Jimin squealing when Jungkook’s palm landed in a quick slap on his ass. The sharp smack only made them laugh harder until Jungkook finally pulled back, breathless and beaming.

“Coffee?” he offered.

Jimin nodded, rolling onto his stomach, arms reaching under the pillow. Jungkook lingered for a moment, entranced by the sight, before pressing a kiss to his hair and getting up.

He slipped on his underwear and padded downstairs—only to freeze in the doorway of the kitchen. Mrs. Park stood by the counter, coffee in hand, her phone in the other. She looked up, utterly unsurprised, her grin knowing.

“Good morning, Jungkook,” she greeted, amusement sparking in her eyes.

“Good morning, Mrs. Park,” Jungkook replied, face flushing crimson. He hadn’t expected to see her at all, let alone while standing there in nothing but underwear.

“Happy new year,” she added, taking a sip.

“Uh—yeah. Hap-happy new year,” Jungkook stammered.

He motioned toward the coffee machine, shuffling awkwardly closer. “I, uh… came to get coffee for Jimin.”

“Of course,” she said, smile widening, clearly entertained by his discomfort. “Cups are in the top left cupboard.”

Jungkook hurried to fill two mugs, intent on making a quick escape. But before he could flee, Mrs. Park stopped him.

“Jungkook?”

Her eyes lingered on his face, warm and steady, until he flushed again.

“I’m glad to see you,” she said simply before letting him go. The words stayed with him as he rushed upstairs.

Later, when Jungkook had gone home to take a shower and change clothes, Jimin was rinsing the cups in the sink when Mrs. Park leaned casually against the counter, studying him.

“I’m going out for lunch with a friend.”

“Okay.”

“Is Jungkook coming back?” She pressed and Jimin stilled.

He cleared his throat. “Yes.”

“So,” she continued. “No Adrian anymore?”

Jimin didn’t answer right away. He dried his hands and turned, leaning back against the counter to face his mother.

“No Adrian anymore,” he repeated softly, watching his mother smile.

“New year, new boyfriend?” she teased, brows arching.

He grinned shyly. “Something like that.”

Her expression softened. “I’m glad. I was starting to wonder if I’d read this whole thing wrong.”

Jimin frowned faintly, unsure. “What do you mean?”

She shrugged. “Just that I always thought Jungkook was better for you.”

“How so?” he pressed, curious to know why his mother thought Jungkook was a better match for him. Not that he was looking for validation, or doubted his decision to break up with Adrian and be with Jungkook—he’d never been so sure of himself before—but he hadn’t expected his mother to side with Jungkook so easily.

“I’ve seen how you are around him,” she explained calmly. “Happy, carefree. And you were never truly yourself with Adrian. You always seemed to be trying to prove something to him.”

He had never looked at it that way before. His relationship with Adrian had always felt more mature because they’d met in college and both wanted something serious.

It wasn’t that Adrian had expectations. Jimin had them for himself. He wanted to prove that he was capable of being loved and deserving of a stable, drama-free relationship. He wanted to be chosen, and for that, he thought he needed to be perfect.

And yes, even though he knew he wasn’t the one to blame for what had happened with Jungkook, he still carried guilt. He still felt that he could’ve been more patient, more understanding, less demanding. Hoseok had spent the summer before university trying to convince him he had nothing to regret, nothing to feel sorry for—but nothing Hoseok said could ease the pain or the heartbreak.

The what-ifs had haunted him since their goodbye on the beach. What if he’d fought harder? What if he’d given Jungkook more time? What if he hadn’t gone to that party and caught him with Cassie?

And now, after last night, after being so impossibly happy, the thought of losing Jungkook again terrified him.

“I don’t know what happened between you and Jungkook in high school,” his mother went on, “but I always had the feeling you’d find your way back to each other.”

After rinsing her cup, she stepped closer, lifting a hand to caress his cheek.

“You deserve to be happy with him,” she said gently, before turning to leave.

Jungkook drove home, still carrying Jimin’s warmth and smell on his skin, already missing him, already wishing he was still tangled up in bed with him.

He parked in front of the house, slipped inside, and was halfway up the stairs when his mother’s voice called his name. Reluctantly, he turned and walked into the kitchen, where she was cooking lunch. He bent down to kiss her cheek, and she wished him a happy new year.

“Happy new year, mom.”

“How was the party? Did you have fun?” she asked, her tone light, curious. Then, with a teasing lilt, she added, “Who did you kiss at midnight?”

The question struck a nerve. Jungkook felt a sudden rush of anger, irrational but uncontrollable. He couldn’t pretend anymore—not after last night. He was tired of his mother living in denial, refusing to acknowledge who he was, and of having to walk on eggshells around her, playing along.

“Jimin,” he said flatly, and his mother’s head snapped toward him. “I kissed Jimin.”

She inhaled sharply and turned back to the stove, stirring the pan as if she hadn’t heard him. That avoidance lit his anger further.

“I left the party. I spent the night at Jimin’s.” His voice was sharper now, almost daring her to react. He wanted to provoke her, to tear her out of that suffocating silence.

Still, she said nothing, back rigidly turned to him.

“I only came home to change. I’m going back there.” He paused, waiting, hoping, for a response, but her silence stretched on, unbearable.

“Aren’t you gonna say anything?” he finally snapped.

“I’m not going to talk with you when you’re just trying to provoke me.”

“I’m provoking you because you won’t acknowledge the fact that your son is gay and has been for years now.”

“Jungkook—”

“No, mom. I’m sorry Dad hurt you. He hurt me too. But I’m not going to live my life as someone I’m not just to make you feel better. Your behavior is bullshit, living in denial is fucked up, and I’m sick of it!”

“You don’t get to speak to me like that, I’m your mother!”

“Yes! Exactly. And as my mother, you should be happy that I’m happy. Jimin makes me happy.”

He didn’t wait for her reply. He stormed upstairs, jaw tight, heart pounding.

Yoongi’s door cracked open as Jungkook passed. “Kook? Where have you been?”

Jungkook remembered that his brother had said he would stop by Taehyung's party with Namjoon and Seokjin, but he had been too busy rescuing Jimin to remember or text him.

“I spent the night with Jimin.”

Yoongi stepped out into the hallway, brows furrowing. “Jungkook—”

“What? You’ve got something to say about it too?”

Jungkook disappeared into his bedroom and slammed the door angrily, nerves raw from his conversation with his mother. He felt instant guilt for snapping at his brother, knowing Yoongi would never say anything negative about his relationship with Jimin.

Seconds later, there was a soft knock before Yoongi pushed the door open and slipped inside.

Jungkook looked at him with pleading eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“What happened?”

“Mom happened,” Jungkook muttered, rifling through his closet for dark jeans and a t-shirt. “I’m tired of pretending, of lying to myself and to everyone.”

Yoongi gently steered him to the bed and sat beside him. Jungkook buried his face in his hands, tugging at his hair in frustration.

“I can’t…” His voice cracked, raw and vulnerable. “I love him. And I keep hurting him, doing everything wrong, and I don’t want to do that anymore.”

“Did you two fight?”

Jungkook shook his head, finally looking up, eyes shining. “No. It was the best night of my life.”

“Aww,” Yoongi teased softly, ruffling his hair. “So you finally did the deed, huh?”

Jungkook flushed crimson and swatted his hand away. “Don’t say that!”

Yoongi chuckled. “I take it that means it was good?”

“Oh my god—stop!” Jungkook groaned, ears burning as he jumped up to grab clothes. Yoongi laughed openly, shaking his head, while Jungkook stormed around trying to ignore him.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” he muttered, but Yoongi followed him into the hallway.

“Give her time,” his brother said gently, squeezing his shoulder before he could close the bathroom door. “She’ll come around.”

Jungkook gave a small nod, though doubt weighed heavily in his chest, and locked the door behind him.

Jungkook drove back to Jimin’s house and found him fresh out of the shower, looking impossibly soft and cute with his fluffy ash-blond hair.

He swept him up the moment he stepped inside, capturing his mouth in a lingering kiss as he carried him further into the house. Jimin giggled, brushing Jungkook’s hair back from his forehead. Part of him had feared Jungkook wouldn’t come back and relief washed over him as he kissed him.

“Did you miss me?” Jimin teased, a playful smile lighting up his face.

“I always do.”

Jimin’s smile faltered when he noticed the concern shadowing Jungkook’s expression.

“Is everything okay?”

Jungkook set him down, rubbing the back of his neck—a gesture Jimin had come to recognize as nervous hesitation. And he couldn’t stop his heart from leaping into his throat.

“Kook?” he pressed gently, throat tight with fear.

“I got into a fight with my mother.”

Jimin swallowed hard and tried to breathe. “About what?”

“Me.” Jungkook drew a steadying breath, then stepped forward and cupped Jimin’s face. His voice was low, earnest, shaking with determination. “I told her about you. Told her I didn’t want to pretend anymore. We’ve wasted enough time, and last night was—” He broke off, searching for a word strong enough to describe how he’d felt, but none could capture it.

They had spent the night tangled together, making love until exhaustion pulled them under, only to wake and find each other again. Insatiable, restless, they kept returning to one another, as if a single night could make up for two years of distance. Even now, the air between them pulsed with that same fevered energy, thick with a desire that refused to fade.

Jimin’s lips softened into a reassuring smile. “It was amazing for me too.”

The tension in Jungkook’s shoulders eased, and he reached for Jimin’s hand, pulling him back into his arms. He pressed a tender kiss to Jimin’s lips, lingering, relishing the fact that Jimin was his and they were together.

“I’m not losing you again,” he whispered against his mouth. “This time, I’ll fight.”

Jimin’s eyes shone as he nodded. “Okay.”

For a moment, they just stared at each other, silent but unshakable, until Jungkook’s stomach gave a loud, ill-timed growl. Jimin burst into laughter and tugged him toward the kitchen.

“Come,” he said, still smiling. “I made lunch.”

Later that afternoon, Jimin’s mother walked in and found her son curled against Jungkook’s larger frame, both of them fast asleep on the couch. Jungkook had his arms wound securely around Jimin, cheek resting atop his hair, and she lingered for a moment, watching them with a tender smile before quietly stepping back out.

They stirred awake as the sun set, still tangled together. Jimin stretched lazily, catlike, basking in Jungkook’s warmth. When his eyes opened, he found Jungkook’s peaceful face beside him—the round tip of his nose, the golden tone of his skin with all its beauty marks, the dark strands falling messily into his closed eyes—and his chest swelled so full of love it nearly hurt.

He reached for his phone, scrolling through the flood of New Year’s messages, sending quick replies while Jungkook shifted restlessly beside him, already missing the press of Jimin’s body. With a playful growl, Jungkook hooked an arm around his waist and dragged him back down, pulling a giggle from Jimin.

“Mom texted me,” Jimin said between laughs. “She’s staying at her friend’s tonight.”

Jungkook’s dark eyes snapped open, a grin spreading across his face. “Does that mean we have the house to ourselves?”

Jimin nodded, and Jungkook welcomed him on top of him, their mouths colliding in a kiss that deepened quickly. Jungkook sat up, welcoming Jimin onto his lap as they kissed, tongues claiming and exploring each other, hands gripping, breath growing heavy.

Then, Jimin broke the kiss and slid down to the floor, settling between Jungkook’s legs. As he knelt, he undid Jungkook’s jeans with deft fingers, the weight of Jungkook’s gaze heavy and searing, as intimate as a touch. He freed him from the confines of denim, the thick length swelling hot and eager in his hand. He stroked slowly, savoring the feel, thumb circling the flushed tip.

“Jimin—”

Jungkook’s breath stuttered, his hands clenching and flexing on the couch cushions like he was holding himself back. When Jimin pressed an open-mouthed kiss along the prominent vein, Jungkook’s cock twitched in his grip. A satisfied spark flickered in Jimin’s eyes.

Then he licked a long stripe from base to tip, and Jungkook gasped. “Baby—fuck.”

The pet name made Jimin shiver with delight. Jungkook rarely used it, but every time he did, Jimin felt his insides melt. He teased the cockhead, tongue circling the slit as he sucked, hand tight around the base but unmoving, keeping the attention on the sensitive tip to test Jungkook’s limits.

He didn’t need to push far. Jungkook’s hand buried itself in his hair, not forcing but holding, grounding himself.

Jimin looked up, their eyes locking. Jungkook’s gaze was dark and intense, full of promises of what would follow, and the sheer weight of it made Jimin shiver.

Maintaining eye contact, Jimin bobbed his head, swallowing him deeper, adjusting to the stretch, relaxing his throat. Jungkook brushed stray strands from his eyes in a tender caress, and Jimin took it as encouragement. He pulled back, lips dragging over the length before sliding down again, watching the flickers of pleasure crossing Jungkook’s face.

Jimin’s own cock strained painfully against his jeans, desperate for friction. He wanted to touch himself, but held back—he wanted that release to come from Jungkook. Instead, he focused on the taste and weight of him on his tongue, the salt of precum coating his mouth, and moaned, vibrations running through Jungkook’s body.

“Okay—okay, enough,” Jungkook rasped suddenly, voice rough but clear-headed. He hauled Jimin up by the arm and with deft fingers, he yanked open Jimin’s pants, and Jimin moaned as his cock sprang free into the warm air.

Jungkook stripped him quickly, sweater and jeans discarded, before taking off his hoodie and tugging his own pants the rest of the way off. From the pocket, he retrieved the small pack of lube he now always carried.

He guided Jimin on his lap to sit astride him and slicked his fingers, pressing two against Jimin’s hole, eager and desperate to lose himself again. Jimin grasped Jungkook’s shoulder and buried his face in the crook of his neck, kissing and nipping the skin, nuzzling the soft hair behind his ear.

They’d had so much sex the night before that Jimin was still loose—and Jimin had made sure in the shower to keep himself open and ready—so two fingers soon became three.

Jimin was the one to pull away first, impatient, cock weeping precum. He stood on shaky legs and turned, back to Jungkook’s front, reaching behind to guide Jungkook’s cock into position as he began to lower himself.

Jungkook’s hands flew out, gripping his waist.

“Jimin, wait—”

Jimin froze, hazy and trembling, delirious with desire and need, and looked at Jungkook over his shoulder.

“I’m not wearing a condom.”

“Oh…” Jimin flushed, shame pricking. He’d always been careful, sensible—he couldn’t believe he’d forgotten.

“But I mean…” Jungkook added sheepishly. “I’ve never… with anyone else, so…”

“And I’m clean,” Jimin rushed to say. “I get tested every month and my last results came back clear.”

“Thank God,” Jungkook breathed, lowering him by the waist as he held his cock steady. Jimin spread himself with both hands, guiding the thick head inside.

Jungkook’s eyes widened, watching, enthralled, as inch by inch, his cock disappeared into Jimin’s heat. The feeling was maddening—soft, warm, tight. He gripped Jimin’s waist hard, barely holding himself back as Jimin moaned, moving steadily lower until Jungkook was fully inside him.

“Kook—” Jimin gasped, breathy and broken. “This… this is…”

Jungkook pulled him against his chest and braced his feet against the coffee table. Jimin rested his head on Jungkook’s shoulder. The angle was new and exquisite, Jungkook’s cock brushing against every sensitive spot inside him, the flared head battering his prostate with each thrust.

Jungkook rocked his hips, and Jimin planted his feet into the rug to push back. Arching his back, he ground down rather than simply bouncing, his hips moving in tight circles to feel the sharp, mind-blowing press against his prostate.

And Jungkook let him.

He let him take what he needed, let him find his pace and his angle, let him wring every drop of pleasure from his cock. He encouraged him with kisses against his shoulders and nape, whispering soft praises between gasps: “You’re so perfect… So beautiful…You take me so well… Fuck, I love your ass.”

But Jimin’s legs soon began to ache, muscles quivering until he couldn’t maintain the position.

Thankfully, Jungkook felt him falter and caught him behind the knees, spreading him wide and pulling him flush against his chest as he thrust upward, taking over.

Jimin clutched at the arms locked tight around his waist, mouth falling open as moan after moan poured out of him.

“You look so beautiful,” Jungkook groaned in his ear, and Jimin dared to look down at himself: his cock, bouncing against his stomach, dripping precum that pooled across his pale skin. It looked swollen, angry, flushed a deep pink, throbbing with desperate need.

“Hold yourself open for me,” Jungkook rasped, and Jimin obeyed, grabbing his legs to lift them as Jungkook’s hands moved.

One cupped his ass, helping him ride him, while the other wrapped around his cock—and Jimin cried out in sweet, unrelenting relief.

It only took a few strokes before Jimin unraveled, spilling hot and fast over Jungkook’s hand, his body wrung tight, mouth gaping around broken moans.

Jungkook could swear he felt Jimin’s hole clamp down around him, squeezing like a vice.

And so he came, long and hard, his release flooding Jimin as he kept thrusting to empty every last drop. His mind went white, dark around the edges, overwhelmed with searing pleasure until all he could do was clutch Jimin’s waist, holding on as though to keep himself tethered to reality.

When he finally came back to himself, Jimin was lying atop him, boneless and sated, eyes closed.

Jungkook kissed just under his ear, coaxing softly, “Hey, baby.”

Jimin sighed contentedly.

“You okay?”

“Y-yeah,” Jimin managed, clearing his throat as he tried to sit up. They both winced when Jungkook’s softening cock slipped free. Jungkook caught him gently at the waist, pulling him closer

“Come here.”

Jimin stood between Jungkook’s legs and watched as Jungkook leaned forward, licking the mess off his stomach, tongue warm and slow, lips sucking up every drop.

Jimin threaded his fingers through Jungkook’s hair, tilting his head to draw him up into a kiss, tasting himself on Jungkook’s tongue.

“Let’s take a shower,” he whispered against his lips, and Jungkook followed him upstairs.

Jungkook flew back to Stony Brook the next day, ready to dive into another semester of baseball and classes.

Saying goodbye felt bittersweet. They promised to text, to call, to visit as often as they could. They were together now—and Jungkook might have asked Jimin that a thousand times, just to be sure.

Hoseok was still dating Taehyung—flying across the country whenever they could to see each other—and Jimin and Jungkook followed the same rhythm. New York was closer, which made quick weekend flights possible. They spent spring break wrapped in each other—enjoying long warm afternoons at the beach, dates in town, and nights tangled in Jimin’s bed—but summer brought a harsher reality.

The summer was dedicated to baseball. After being drafted, Jungkook signed with his MLB organization and was assigned to its rookie affiliate club, the first rung of the minor league ladder. The schedule was merciless: endless bus rides through small towns, practices under the punishing sun, and game after game where every at-bat felt like an audition. He quickly learned that raw talent wasn’t enough. Consistency, discipline, and resilience were everything.

But his game stayed steady, and by mid-season, he was promoted to Low-A. Before the summer ended, his performance carried him to High-A.

Each level brought tougher pitchers, sharper pressure, and larger crowds, but it also brought him closer to Double-A, the true proving ground. Through it all, the thought of Jimin sustained him. Every time exhaustion clawed at him, he remembered why he was fighting.

Before that Christmas in his junior year, Jungkook’s mother called him.

It was a Thursday night in early December. Jungkook had already come home for Halloween to see Jimin, and now he was counting down the days until Christmas.

His relationship with his mother was still tense, their conversations reduced to the superficial: How’s uni? Do you eat well? Sleep well? How’s baseball? He let it slide. There was no point in fighting her anymore. He was with Jimin, and he wasn’t going to hide it. Whether she accepted it or not was her business—and it wasn’t going to change his relationship or his feelings for Jimin.

When his phone buzzed, he was surprised to see her name. She usually texted rather than called. He picked up, curious.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Jungkook,” she replied, her tone a little clipped. “Is this a good time?”

“Yeah.” His stomach tightened, uneasy, half-expecting something bad. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes. I was preparing the menu for Christmas. Your cousins are coming with your aunt and uncle.”

“Okay.”

“You’ll be there, right?”

“Yes, Mom.” He had already told her as much and didn’t understand why she was asking again.

“You can invite your friend if you want,” she added casually.

“What friend?” Jungkook asked.

There was a pause, and Jungkook waited, phone pressed to his ear.

“Your boyfriend,” she finally said.

Jungkook held back his surprise. He didn’t make a sound, but his heart began to race.

“Jimin?”

“Yes.”

“Mom… are you sure?”

“Yes.” The answer lacked warmth, but Jungkook could tell it was sincere.

“Okay.”

“Good,” she concluded. “I’ll see you both at Christmas.”

Jimin picked Jungkook up at the airport on the 23rd and drove back home, where they would have dinner with Jimin’s mother.

Jimin’s house felt like a second home to Jungkook. Mrs. Park was the caring and understanding mother he wished his mother could be. She was always happy to see him and doted on him as though he were her son.

It made Jimin giggle with delight to see Jungkook being cooed over like that, cheeks pink with a mix of embarrassment and happiness.

Jungkook was the missing piece of their puzzle, and he brought joy back into their Christmas.

They spent the night under the covers, whispering loving words to each other, exchanging caresses until they couldn’t resist the urge to claim one another’s bodies. They had to stay quiet because of Jimin’s mother in the bedroom down the hall, but it only made everything more exciting.

The next day, they drove to Jungkook’s house.

Jimin was a bundle of nerves, stomach tied into knots at the thought of meeting Jungkook’s mother. He hadn’t needed any convincing to spend Christmas with Jungkook’s family—they’d waited too long for her acceptance to turn the invitation down now—but he knew this would be a pivotal moment, one he couldn’t screw up if he wanted to prove he was right for Jungkook.

They’d been dating long-distance for a year now, and even though being apart most of the time wasn’t ideal, Jimin had never been happier. He wasn’t ready for that to be taken away from him. Not now. Not ever.

So he hoped this wasn’t a trap—a foolish attempt from Jungkook’s mother to drive them apart.

As he stepped inside the house, he remembered that afternoon in Jungkook’s room, and their embrace on the couch before Yoongi had walked in on them. Despite everything, he still had good memories here.

Yoongi welcomed them, hugging his brother tightly before taking the bag from his hand and turning to Jimin.

“Hey, Jimin,” he greeted with that familiar gummy smile. “Glad to see you.”

He reached out for a quick hug that Jimin returned, grateful for the warm welcome.

When they pulled away, Jimin noticed a silhouette standing behind Yoongi, staring at him.

He quickly bowed his head. “Mrs. Jeon,” he said, voice unsure. “Thank you for having me.”

She smiled, but it looked a little forced. “Of course, come on in.”

She motioned them into the living room after they took off their shoes and coats.

Jimin felt nervous, and the feeling only grew when he noticed the group of people already seated on the couches, what looked like Jungkook’s uncle and aunt, and their two teenage sons.

Yoongi and his mother disappeared into the kitchen to get drinks while the boys jumped to their feet and ran to Jungkook, hugging him and firing off questions about New York, baseball, and whether he’d met any famous players during his championships and leagues.

Jimin wanted to stay close to Jungkook, to find comfort in his presence, but he forced himself to greet the man standing from the couch and extending his hand.

“Hi, Lee Hajoon. Jungkook’s uncle.”

“Park Jimin.”

The man nodded and stepped aside to let his wife introduce herself, Lee Mirae, before they both sat back down. They weren’t unwelcoming exactly, they offered polite smiles, though Jimin could feel their curiosity. He suspected they’d already discussed his relationship with Jungkook with Jungkook’s mother.

Jungkook finally broke free from his cousins and came to stand beside Jimin, slipping his hand into his in the most natural way while one of the boys looked up.

“Is that your boyfriend?”

Jungkook smiled. “Yes, it’s Jimin.”

The boys showed no surprise and said hi before settling back beside their parents. Jimin felt a warm hand on his shoulder and turned to see Yoongi giving him an encouraging nod before setting a tray of snacks on the coffee table.

The cousins dove in eagerly while Jungkook’s mother handed drinks to her brother and sister-in-law.

“Jimin,” she said, turning to him, “what can I get you?”

Jimin froze, feeling Jungkook squeeze his hand.

“I’ll grab us cokes, Mom,” Jungkook said quickly, dragging him to the kitchen.

Once they were alone, and the chatter resumed in the living room, Jimin felt himself relax a little.

“You okay?” Jungkook asked, brushing his knuckles against Jimin’s cheek.

“Yeah,” Jimin replied. “A little nervous.”

“Don’t be. I’m here with you.”

They grabbed their cokes and went back to the living room. Both couches were full—Hajoon, Mirae, and their sons on one, Mrs. Jeon and Yoongi on the other.

Jungkook led Jimin to the empty chair by the window and perched on the armrest beside him. Jimin didn’t miss the glance Jungkook’s mother gave them, but since she didn’t say anything, he chose to ignore it.

They eased into conversation—school, university, sports, everyone’s plans for New Year’s Eve—and Jimin found himself relaxing, grounded by Jungkook’s presence and the occasional brush of his fingers against his nape.

The doorbell rang suddenly, making Jimin startle. His head snapped toward Jungkook, who looked just as puzzled, both glancing toward his mother.

“I’ll get it!” she chirped, heading for the door.

A minute later, she returned, followed by a couple who looked to be in their fifties and a girl with auburn hair, green eyes, and freckles scattered across her nose. She was pretty, sweet-looking, and offered a bright smile to the room. When she spotted Jungkook, her smile widened and she waved.

“Hey, Kook,” she said in an equally sweet voice.

Jungkook’s mother pushed her forward. “Everyone, this is our neighbours, the Tremblays, and their daughter, Judith,” she announced as everyone rose to greet them.

Jimin frowned. Jungkook had only mentioned his uncle, aunt, and cousins—no one else was supposed to be there.

But Jungkook was already on his feet, hugging Judith warmly, surprise and excitement lighting up his face. Their lively chatter barely reached him as he stood a step behind.

“Jimin,” Jungkook said, grabbing his hand to pull him closer. “This is Judith. We used to play together when we were kids.”

Jimin forced a kind smile, thrown off by their easy familiarity.

“Judith, this is my boyfriend, Jimin.”

He caught the brief flicker of surprise and confusion on her face before she smiled.

“Nice to meet you, Jimin.”

“Likewise.”

“Judith and Jungkook were inseparable as kids,” Jungkook’s mother chimed in, and Jimin tensed. The realization of what was happening was slowly dawning on him, and the bubbling relief and happiness he’d felt only minutes ago at being accepted into Jungkook’s family were now ebbing away.

“I always thought you’d end up together,” Mrs. Jeon went on with a laugh as she motioned everyone toward the dining room. “It’s so kind of you to have joined us last minute.”

The Tremblays smiled and waved off the comment, clearly pleased to be there, while the conversation around the table shifted to food and family memories. Jimin sat quietly, watching as Yoongi, Jungkook, and Judith reminisced about their childhood.

Halfway through dinner, he noticed Jungkook’s mother glancing at him and forcing a smile. He had never felt so unwelcome. This wasn’t reconciliation, it was a performance, a test to prove he didn’t belong.

But he wasn’t going to back down.

He had longed for Jungkook, waited years, endured heartbreak after heartbreak just to be with him. He wasn’t giving up now.

So when Jungkook’s mother rose to clear the table before dessert, Jimin volunteered to help.

He joined her in the kitchen, where she was rinsing plates before loading the dishwasher.

“Let me help you,” he offered, standing beside her and taking a plate from her hands. She gave him a wary look but didn’t protest.

He took a steadying breath. “I know you’re not fond of the idea of Jungkook and me dating,” he said. He saw her pause ever so slightly before moving on to scrape another plate.

“But bringing back a childhood friend in hopes it’ll break us apart is useless,” he added quietly. “I’m not breaking up with him.”

This time, she stopped and turned to him. “You’re right, I don’t like the idea of my son dating another man,” she clipped. “I’d hoped he’d get married and have a family, like normal people.”

“He is normal,” Jimin said firmly, keeping his voice polite but steady. “And he can have a family, he will have a family.”

“With you?” she deadpanned.

“Hopefully, yes.”

She rolled her eyes with a scoff, but Jimin didn’t flinch. “I love him, and I want what’s best for him. That’s all that should matter.”

“I don’t think you’re what’s best for him.”

“That’s up to him to decide.”

She stared at him, clearly frustrated. “You have an answer for everything, don’t you?”

“He usually does, yeah.”

Both turned their heads. Jungkook was standing there, carrying what was left of the roast, which he set down on the counter.

“Mom, if the goal here is to embarrass Jimin or make him feel unwelcome, we’ll just go back to his house and let you celebrate Christmas with the neighbours.”

He wrapped an arm around Jimin’s waist and smiled softly at him.

“We haven’t finished dessert,” his mother said coldly.

“If we stay for dessert, will you be nice?” Jungkook bargained.

She glanced at Jimin, then at her son, before relenting. “Sure.”

“Okay, then.”

Jungkook guided Jimin out of the kitchen but paused at the threshold.

“Mom,” he said, waiting for her to meet his gaze. “I love him, and nothing you do will change that.”

She pressed her lips together but said nothing. Jungkook started to leave, then stopped.

“Oh, and Judith always had a crush on Yoongi, not me,” he added with a grin before walking away.

Jimin’s heart swelled with pride. He trusted Jungkook completely—the past year had been incredible and Jungkook had shown unwavering commitment and unfailing love—but seeing him stand up for them still filled him with warmth and relief. He trusted him and had never questioned him since last New Year’s Eve, when Jungkook told him he was going to fight for him, but he still felt relieved to see Jungkook protect their relationship.

Dinner went smoothly after that. Judith was sweet and genuinely kind, making an effort to talk to Jimin and ask about his life, and it was almost impossible to hate or resent her. Jungkook kept a wary eye on his mother, but she said nothing more. She mostly ignored Jimin, which was still better than hostility.

After dinner, the Tremblays left, and everyone gathered in the living room to exchange gifts.

Jimin watched as Yoongi handed Jungkook tickets to a Maple Leafs game with a teasing grin. “You can take Jimin on a date before you go back to New York.”

Jungkook smiled and hugged him quickly in thanks. Then he handed Yoongi tickets to a Raptors game. “Since you’re not coming with me to hockey, you can watch basketball instead.” Yoongi rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his excitement.

Their mother gave each of them envelopes with cash, claiming she no longer knew what they wanted for Christmas and that they could buy whatever they wanted with it.

She gifted Hajoon a bottle of fine whiskey, Mirae a silk scarf, and the boys a new video game. In return, she received a massage voucher, a shopping card for The Bay, and tickets to the National Ballet from her sons because she had always wanted to go see the Nutcracker but always missed the sales.

“How did you manage to get tickets?” she exclaimed excitedly.

“Several email alerts and notifications,” Yoongi grinned.

She smiled and opened her arms to her sons. “Thank you both.”

While everyone chatted about their gifts, Jimin turned to Jungkook and handed him a wrapped box.

Jungkook looked surprised, then delighted, as he opened it to find an album. Inside were clippings—dozens of articles and photos about him: his rising career, performances, championships, leagues, and projections as a future professional player.

He looked up at Jimin, confused.

“They’re articles I wrote about you,” Jimin explained with a smile. “Most were published. Some weren’t. But I kept them all.”

“You… wrote all these?” Jungkook was stunned. As he flipped through the pages, he realized the collection spanned from their freshman year to just a month ago. Even when they’d been apart, even when Jimin was dating Adrian, he’d never stopped caring about him.

Jungkook stood to pull him into his arms, hugging him tightly as the conversation in the room quieted. He buried his face in Jimin’s neck, breathing him in.

“Thank you.”

Jimin giggled. Jungkook pulled away with a smile, “Your turn now.”

He pulled an envelope from his pocket and handed it to him. Jimin took it, opened it, and read. When he looked up, his eyes were wide with surprise.

“Are these tickets to New York?”

Jungkook smiled proudly. “Yeah, you’re coming for spring break.”

Jimin’s joy was explosive. He grabbed Jungkook’s face and kissed him hard. Jungkook had warned him that the end of junior year and the start of senior year would be much busier, and that they probably wouldn’t be able to see each other as often. His schedule was packed, and Jimin—between his classes, the school paper, his internship, and freelance work—barely had time to breathe.

And although Jimin had agreed that another year of hard work and long-distance love wouldn’t break them after everything they’d been through, he still felt crestfallen at the idea of being apart until next Christmas. He couldn’t wait for it all to be over, for them to finally build a real life together, in the same city.

Jungkook had known that. He’d shared Jimin’s worry and disappointment, and so he had arranged to keep his entire spring break free just for him. They would still try to spend a few weekends together, but a whole week was more than either of them had dared to hope for.

They kissed without caring who was watching—Yoongi’s amused grin, Hajoon and Mirae’s surprise, the cousins’ giggles, or Jungkook’s mother’s stunned silence.

When they finally pulled apart, both were smiling brightly. Jimin pecked Jungkook’s lips again.

“Thank you.”

After dinner, Jungkook’s mother found him and Jimin in the kitchen, clearing plates and loading the dishwasher after their guests had gone home.

She took the kitchen towel from Jimin’s hands and offered a sheepish, slightly awkward smile.

“I’ll do it,” she said.

Jimin frowned but thanked her, then turned to Jungkook.

“I’ll drive you home,” Jungkook said. They had arranged for him to spend the night at home with his brother and mother so they could be together on Christmas Day. He planned to meet Jimin again on the 26th to spend the rest of the holidays together.

“Maybe Jimin can stay the night,” his mother offered, and they both gaped at her in shock. She made a point of not looking at them, busying herself with cleaning the kitchen counter, but her voice was soft and almost apologetic.

They shared a look, and Jungkook shrugged.

“I’d love to,” Jimin replied tentatively. “If it’s not an imposition.”

“Not at all. Jungkook can drive you home in the morning, if your parents don’t mind.”

Jimin’s mother wasn’t home that night; she had planned to spend Christmas Eve with the same mysterious “friend” from last year, who had since turned out to be her new boyfriend (if you can call him that at his age), Brent.

Jimin had met him a few times now, even though his mother tried not to bring him home too often, careful not to invade Jimin’s space. Brent was nice, he worked as a consultant, though despite asking a few times, Jimin had never quite understood what exactly he did.

So, he was free to stay at Jungkook’s.

They looked at each other, elated grins spreading across their faces before they bolted up the stairs, laughing as they rushed into Jungkook’s bedroom.

The second the door closed, Jungkook snatched Jimin into his arms and crashed their mouths together. He swallowed Jimin’s gasp hungrily, arms tightening around his waist as he pushed him against the door, their bodies pressed close.

Jungkook kissed him senseless, ravaged him, really.

The kiss was all tongue, leaving them both dizzy with want. Jimin melted against him, reveling in the way Jungkook’s hands gripped him, held him close, explored every inch of his body. He felt his cock stir with arousal, thickening in his now too-tight jeans.

Desire sparked across his skin, overwhelming and impossible to ignore. He tugged at Jungkook’s sweater until Jungkook relented, pulling away just long enough to take it off along with his T-shirt. Jimin bit back a moan at the sight of Jungkook’s toned chest—his small, hard nipples, the sharp lines of his stomach. He was mouthwatering. Breathtaking.

With fingers trembling with urgency, Jungkook unbuttoned Jimin’s jeans while Jimin stripped off his fuzzy sweater and tossed it aside. Jungkook latched onto the curve of his neck, sucking and nipping while his fingers curled around Jimin’s throbbing length.

“Kook—”

“Fuck, I’ve been thinking about this the entire dinner,” Jungkook rasped against Jimin’s heated skin. “I thought it would never fucking end.”

Jimin’s fingers dove into Jungkook’s hair, blunt nails scratching his scalp before tugging gently on the dark strands.

Jungkook yanked Jimin’s jeans down and off before dropping to his knees in front of him. Jimin’s breath hitched in anticipation, and it took everything he had not to moan loudly when Jungkook swallowed his length eagerly, mouth impossibly hot and wet.

He closed his eyes and slumped against the door, legs already wobbly with pleasure. He mewled—mewled—when Jungkook cupped his balls, rolling them in his warm palm, giving a gentle squeeze while suckling the leaking cockhead.

Jungkook pulled away before Jimin could come, looking up at him for a beat before rising to his feet and capturing his mouth again.

Gently, he guided him toward the bed and coaxed him to kneel near the edge of the mattress, knees apart so Jungkook could stand behind him.

“Don’t move,” he said in a ragged voice that sent a shiver down Jimin’s spine.

Jungkook fell to his knees again and closed his mouth around Jimin’s exposed hole. Jimin gasped, his body jerking in surprise before quickly relaxing against him. With both hands, Jungkook held him open so he could lick and kiss, his tongue prodding inside, the tight muscle slowly loosening around it.

Jimin gripped the sheets like a desperate man, panting and moaning, his legs trembling with pleasure and impatience. When Jungkook had licked him wet enough, he pushed one finger inside alongside his tongue and kept working him open.

He whined loudly when Jungkook’s hands and tongue suddenly disappeared, his body twitching at the loss. He looked up, dazed and breathless, eyes glazed with need, and watched helplessly as Jungkook went to the bedside table to retrieve a bottle of lube. When Jungkook turned around to look at him, their eyes locked and the air between them grew hot and heavy once again.

“You’re so beautiful like that,” Jungkook murmured, and Jimin preened under the compliment.

He walked back around the bed, settling behind him, and poured the lube along the crease of Jimin’s ass, watching in fascination as it slid down the perfect curve. With two fingers, he pushed the cold liquid inside, relishing how Jimin’s tight ring of muscle gave under his touch, swallowed him eagerly, and clamped down around his fingers. The moan that spilled from Jimin’s mouth was loud—too loud, considering Jungkook’s brother was down the hall and his mother downstairs—but neither of them cared.

With his free hand, Jungkook palmed the curve of Jimin’s ass and gave it a playful squeeze. Jimin had started rolling his hips, feeling the stretch as Jungkook dragged his fingers along his sensitive insides.

When he heard the telltale sound of a zipper being pulled down, Jimin whimpered in anticipation.

“Come on, I’m ready,” he urged, and Jungkook grinned. He withdrew his fingers, shoved his pants down, and kicked them off completely. Returning to Jimin, he gripped his hips to hold him still while guiding his rigid, throbbing length between Jimin’s cheeks.

The press of the blunt cockhead was a relief for both of them, sliding in smoothly as Jimin’s body adjusted perfectly around him.

“Shit, you always take me so well,” Jungkook rasped.

Jimin rocked his hips, moving beautifully against Jungkook’s thrusts, their rhythm instinctive now.

What he didn’t expect was for Jungkook to press a firm palm between his shoulder blades, guiding him to lie flat on his stomach before settling over him. His warmth seeped through Jimin’s feverish skin, sending sparks of pleasure down his spine as Jungkook’s lips traced the curve of his neck.

They moved together as one, bodies flushed, rolling slowly, savoring the connection. Their hands found each other, fingers entwining.

Jimin gasped and moaned into the covers, cock trapped between his stomach and the bed as each thrust brushed his prostate, forcing out more precum from the sensitive tip.

“You feel so tight like that,” Jungkook groaned against his neck, kissing the slope of his shoulder.

“I think you’re just too big,” Jimin whimpered, trying and failing to tease him. His body seized at a perfectly angled thrust, and Jungkook did it again, and again, until Jimin’s orgasm crashed over him. His cock spurted untouched, his vision whiting out with pleasure.

Jungkook followed right after, always undone by Jimin’s release, spilling hotly inside him.

They stayed like that for a moment, catching their breath, bodies still tangled together. Then Jungkook finally pulled out, and Jimin rolled onto his back so their lips could meet again in a long, tender kiss.

After Christmas, Jimin and Jungkook spent the last days of the year together before Jungkook had to go back to New York for the spring semester.

They went on dates, visited Greenwood Pool to enjoy the rink, and relive old memories as they glided over the ice.

Jungkook watched as Jimin traced lazy circles across the ice, his blades leaving delicate patterns in the pale reflection of the rink lights. He smiled. Jimin was beautiful. He was everything Jungkook had ever desired, everything he had ever dreamed of, and he was his.

He reached out, catching Jimin’s hand to pull him closer, dragging him gently into his arms. He brushed a few strands of ash-blond hair out of Jimin’s eyes. Jimin was slightly out of breath but smiling, cheeks flushed pink from the cold as he stared up at him.

“What is it?” Jimin asked, eyes flicking toward the closed doors at the entrance of the rink. “Is our time up already?”

“I love you,” Jungkook said. His voice was soft but certain, eyes trained on Jimin’s face.

A brief look of surprise crossed Jimin’s features, but it vanished just as quickly, his gaze melting into warmth, and a shy smile spreading across his face.

“I’ve been in love with you since high school,” Jungkook went on, his tone steady, full of conviction. “Since before I even knew calicocat13 was you.”

Gently, he cupped Jimin’s face between his gloved hands and pressed his cold lips to his. The kiss was brief, too brief for Jimin’s liking, and when Jungkook pulled away, Jimin gave a soft whine of protest, chasing after him.

“You make me so happy,” Jungkook breathed, his words misting in the cold air.

Jimin didn’t hesitate this time. He kissed him again, long and deep, hands gripping the front of Jungkook’s coat as if to anchor him there.

“I love you too,” he whispered between kisses.

Jungkook took Jimin to the hockey game his brother had gotten him tickets for.

They spent long afternoons cuddling on Jimin’s couch, watching TV, basking in each other’s warmth and presence.

New Year’s Eve was celebrated with their friends. Taehyung had flown back to Toronto for the holidays to be with Hoseok, and their group finally felt whole again. Everyone gathered at Namjoon and Seokjin’s place, eating good food and drinking bubbles. It was just the seven of them, but it was perfect.

They reminisced about high school—the long afternoons spent on the bleachers watching the baseball team train (Hoseok had been endlessly teased for that), the teachers, students they couldn’t even remember the names of, the highs and lows of their relationships—and talked about their plans to be back together someday, here, in their hometown.

Taehyung was doing great in Vancouver. After a minor wrist injury, he had decided not to return to playing baseball but to study instead, training to become a coach and teach the sport to young kids.

Hoseok was thriving in university, studying fashion and landing an incredible internship as a costume designer for local productions. He had even been selected to participate in the Toronto International Film Festival and managed to get tickets for his friends.

The end of the holidays weighed heavily on their spirits when the time came to say goodbye again.

When Jimin drove Jungkook to the airport, they clung to each other, holding onto the promise that in just a few weeks, they would be together again as they kissed goodbye.

The long distance with Jimin wasn’t easy, but it was steady, and it grounded him.

Every text, every late-night call, every weekend trip back to Toronto reminded him of what he was fighting for. And by the end of junior year, scouts were paying serious attention to Jungkook, making it all worth it.

Senior year brought another leap forward. After a strong stretch in High-A and a taste of Double-A, Jungkook had proven himself against some of the toughest competition. By the time graduation rolled around, his performance in Triple-A had pushed him right to the edge of the major leagues.

Meanwhile, Jimin was carving out his own path. He majored in Media with a focus on sports broadcasting, pairing it with courses in sport management, communications, and business. Outside his courses, he was everywhere—interning at local sports stations, writing for the campus newspaper where he covered the varsity teams, and freelancing as a reporter for club leagues and high school games. One opportunity built on the next until he landed an internship at a local online sports paper.

It was all inspired by Jungkook.

Jimin sometimes laughed at himself, how he’d gone from knowing almost nothing about sports to building a whole career around them. But the truth was, he loved it. He loved the rush of covering a game, the stories that came out of the field, and most of all, he loved how every step he took was tied, in some way, to Jungkook.

They spent Christmas together again during their senior year, splitting their time between their families. This time, Jungkook’s mother welcomed Jimin with open arms and insisted they stay a few days at home with her and Yoongi.

She wouldn’t admit it yet, but she was growing very fond of Jimin, and the way she quietly made sure he had everything he needed—snacks, hot chocolate, tea, an extra blanket, the first pick of chocolates from the box she’d bought—made it obvious she cared for him. She had a similar way to Yoongi of taking care of people: discreetly, gently, without ever making it a show.

New Year’s Eve was celebrated with their group of friends again, and soon after, Jungkook flew back to New York for his final semester. Summer would be spent traveling through more leagues and tournaments within his organization’s system, working hard to prove himself and hoping to earn the call that every player dreamed of. With his strong Triple-A performance the previous season, he knew he was close, eligible for a September roster expansion or a Spring Training invite.

Nothing was guaranteed, but he could feel it: the dream was within reach.

“Jimin!”

His mother’s voice called, and Jimin ran downstairs. She pointed at a package sitting on the kitchen table.

“This arrived for you.”

Jimin frowned. He hadn’t ordered anything and wasn't expecting a delivery. He picked it up, turning it over in his hands. No shipping labels. No return address. Just his name scrawled neatly in the corner.

Curiosity prickled through him. He tore the package open and pulled out a neatly folded jersey—white and light blue. His breath caught as he turned it over.

Across the back, in bold letters, was Jungkook’s name.

Jimin’s heart stuttered, then kicked wildly in his chest. His hands shook as he grabbed his phone, already noticing the unread text waiting for him.

Jungkook

did u get the package?

just opened it

does that mean what i think it means?

Jungkook

ur talking to the new Blue Jays player baby

so ur coming back?

for good?

“Yes. I’m back for good.”

Jimin snapped his head up—and froze.

Jungkook was standing in the doorway. His mother, grinning knowingly, was watching them both.

Jimin launched himself into Jungkook’s arms, and Jungkook caught him effortlessly, spinning him as Jimin squealed, their mouths crashing together. Jimin wrapped his legs around his waist, clinging to him, laughing against his lips as relief and overwhelming joy drowned him.

They kissed hungrily, Jimin’s fingers raking through Jungkook’s hair while Jungkook held him close as though he’d never let go.

“Boys,” Mrs. Park teased, “have some decency.”

They broke apart, chuckling, cheeks flushed. Jungkook set Jimin down, but neither could stop smiling as they stared at each other.

“When did you know?” Jimin asked breathlessly. They had been waiting, praying, for this moment—for Jungkook to finally get the call. To finally come home.

“I got it in early September,” Jungkook said, eyes shining.

Jimin’s smile widened, pride swelling so fiercely it hurt. “I’m so proud of you.” His voice trembled with it, his gaze drinking him in. “I knew you’d be a baseball star, Jeon Jungkook.”

Jungkook pulled him close again, stealing another kiss, laughter tangled with relief.

“Is it our time yet?” he whispered against Jimin’s lips, voice raw with hope after years of longing. “We’ve waited long enough, don’t you think?”

Jimin’s eyes softened. The weight of years—longing, hardships, distance, heartbreak, relentless waiting—lifted in a heartbeat. He nodded, smiling through the tears brimming in his eyes.

“Yes,” he whispered. “It’s our time now.”

Notes:

Hope you liked that first chapter, let me know your thoughts in the comments!
See you next week~

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??? (Guest) on Chapter 1 Sat 13 Sep 2025 05:06AM UTC

first time tag so who is a virgin?

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1. gukkiemonster on Chapter 1 Sat 13 Sep 2025 10:41AM UTC
  
  I'm guessing it's for jungkook since it would be his first time w a guy
  
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2. 1. Imagine_purple_love on Chapter 1 Sat 13 Sep 2025 01:18PM UTC
    
    Exactly 😊
    
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  2. ??? (Guest) on Chapter 1 Sat 20 Sep 2025 08:14AM UTC
    
    but its not his first time ever so the author should remove the tag because it makes people have hope theyre special to each other when theyre not
    
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  3. 1. Imagine_purple_love on Chapter 1 Sat 20 Sep 2025 11:25AM UTC
      
      Jungkook is technically a virgin so it's a first time for him.
      
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gukkiemonster on Chapter 1 Sat 13 Sep 2025 10:40AM UTC

omg wait this is so good I'm alr hooked

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1. Imagine_purple_love on Chapter 1 Sat 13 Sep 2025 01:18PM UTC
  
  🫶🏻💜
  
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Katie (Guest) on Chapter 1 Sat 13 Sep 2025 03:14PM UTC

Oh, gosh, this is gonna be so good! I can’t wait for more!

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1. Imagine_purple_love on Chapter 1 Sat 20 Sep 2025 11:53AM UTC
  
  Hope you like what comes next 🫶🏻
  
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jiminie_itboyz on Chapter 1 Sun 14 Sep 2025 12:03AM UTC

OMGGGGGG THIS IS TOO GOOD IM GAGGEDDD, NEED THE SECOND CHAPTERRRR 😫😫😫😫🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽

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1. Imagine_purple_love on Chapter 1 Sat 20 Sep 2025 11:54AM UTC
  
  I'm glad you liked chapter 1 🫶🏻 thanks for your sweet comment!
  
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KimYaemin17 on Chapter 1 Sun 14 Sep 2025 11:31PM UTC

So good!! Sounds like it is going to be angsty af ! Can’t wait

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1. Imagine_purple_love on Chapter 1 Sat 20 Sep 2025 11:54AM UTC
  
  It will be 😅 sorry in advance haha
  
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yuri_vicky on Chapter 1 Thu 18 Sep 2025 10:43PM UTC

loveit！！！！！

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1. Imagine_purple_love on Chapter 1 Sat 20 Sep 2025 11:55AM UTC
  
  💜💜
  
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onlyjikook on Chapter 1 Sat 20 Sep 2025 02:51AM UTC

omg you write so good!!! this is so fun AHHHHH i loved it sososososo much <3333 things will get messy im scared but thank you for this, my week's been rough and this made me happy today 🥹

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1. Imagine_purple_love on Chapter 1 Sat 20 Sep 2025 11:57AM UTC
  
  I'm glad you enjoyed this chapter, if it helped through a rough week then my job is done 🫡💜
  
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93bngtan on Chapter 1 Fri 03 Oct 2025 09:40PM UTC

ooo i assumed they’d both find out who each other were on their first meeting but jungkook finding out first like this is wayyy more interesting

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sunkook on Chapter 1 Sat 11 Oct 2025 07:11AM UTC

“I said, what the fuck are you looking at?” he repeated, voice low and menacing, shoving the boy.—> ou

Jungkook placed both hands on her hips, and Jimin was surprised by how tame the embrace was. He had expected Jungkook to be raunchy, all passion and PDA.—> i wonder why…

One in the bathroom—standing in front of a mirror, towel hanging low around the hips, an impressive display of golden skin, a narrow waist, and perfectly defined abs.—> ohhhh

not jk sending the pic right away omg

His mouth began to water at the sight of the long length—slightly curved upward, traced by the prettiest and thickest vein, crowned with a flushed, flared cockhead—and he wasn’t ashamed of it.—> omgggg

goldenboy109
fine
it’s the best piece of ass i’ve ever seen—> woaahhh

“He told me his parents are divorced, just like mine, and it was just so easy to talk to him about it. He understood how I felt and what I’ve been through, and it was so… liberating to be understood.”—> ou

goldenboy109
no it’s…
my dad is gay
that’s why my parents divorced
and i’ve always hated him for it—> OH…

goldenboy109
😓 no…—> he’s cute in his own repressed way… damn

calicocat13
i swear you have the most gorgeous cock i’ve ever seen—> damnnn

Jimin smiled before he pulled the blanket over him and closed his eyes. —> ouuu

The thing was, he had begun doubting he was good enough. The fact that he was goldenboy109’s first gay experience was both exhilarating and terrifying. He didn’t know if he could date someone who needed to hide. —> :(((

“Her name’s Duchess,” he said, smiling down at the photo.
What he didn’t see was Jungkook snapping his head around, his body coiling in the chair, eyes widening, attention locking on him.—> OH the cat info…

But calicocat13 was real. And he now had a face.
And it was Jimin’s.—> ouch

But all he could see was Jimin: ash-blond hair, creamy-white skin, plump lips, his body, his ass, his cock.—> ouuu

“Who then? Me?”
Jimin snorted. “No fucking way in hell.”
Jungkook’s fists clenched. He forced himself to step back, dizzy with the urge to touch him.—> damn…

calicocat13
he’s a bully
and yeah, sure, he’s popular n handsome
but he’s an asshole
n i hate ppl like him
goldenboy109
u think he’s handsome? —> not him only getting the handsome part lmao

he’s just a baseball player
n a bully
goldenboy109
maybe u just got off on the wrong foot—> 🥲

ohhhhhh this was such an interesting start! now jungkook knows it’s jimin omg

thanks for writing!💗

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bratzminie on Chapter 1 Sun 12 Oct 2025 05:38PM UTC

i never knew i needed a jikook Euphoria au until now !!!!

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1. Imagine_purple_love on Chapter 1 Tue 14 Oct 2025 02:16AM UTC
  
  Omg you're the first to notice where the inspiration came from! 🫶🏻
  
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jiminie_itboyz on Chapter 2 Fri 19 Sep 2025 11:03PM UTC

OMGGGG SO GOOD, HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO WAIT A WEEK😫😫😫😫 AUTHOR U R EATING THIS UPPP LIVING FOR THE ANGSTTT

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1. Imagine_purple_love on Chapter 2 Sat 20 Sep 2025 11:56AM UTC
  
  🙈🫶🏻
  
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HopeLove on Chapter 2 Sat 20 Sep 2025 02:49AM UTC

Holy shit this is sooooo good

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1. Imagine_purple_love on Chapter 2 Sat 20 Sep 2025 11:56AM UTC
  
  So glad you like it 💜
  
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onlyjikook on Chapter 2 Sat 20 Sep 2025 03:36AM UTC

holy fucking shit how do i even begin.... this concept, the angst, the nastiness, everything IT'S PERFECT I LOVE EVERYTHING SO MUCH im genuinely tweaking bc wym i cant consume more of this fic 😭 it's been so long since i had this spark in me while reading something.

some key points i want to react to:

1. jungkook never experienced sex ever omg i didn't expect that!! i thought he's run through haha but i'm glad that jimin will be his first, jimin would milk the shit out of his cock HAHA

2. hobi doubting goldenboy109,, so real! dating app is notorious when it comes to catfishes and jm's kinda into deep without knowing what jk looked like or he could be a murderer yada yada. i get jimin tho,, i've been there LOLL

3. can i also mention that i love how jimin's not timid and all that, he is sooo nasty as well he deserves be worshipped in all positions

4. jungkook choosing the song jimin mentioned to him during the car ride AWWWW the way jimin was happy rambling too, my shaylas be happy always (but i love the angst sorry both of u have to be sad for some time)

5. JUNGKOOK CASUALLY AGREEING TO MEET UP!!!! he was ready pls :((( in jk's defense he did try..

6. im glad vhope discovered it too, it would be a great help for the both of them with their friends input/opinion all that. i cant blame jimin for feeling all of those things tho, everything's too much.

7. THE FUCKING BONER. I SCREAMED. FJJSDJJDJSKDKDJSKFJSKDKWKFKSJDKWJSKFJSJSJSJSKDKDJSKDJWKDKSKFUEKRJ

8. jk's plan to be in the US.... oh brother let's make it work...

9. i forgot to mention in the beginning i love that we get to see jk's pov!!! i'm in love with his thoughts haha, he's soooo down bad im wishing both of them the best

ok so overall im tweaking I LOVE THE ANGST THE PAIN THE SEXUAL TENSION. my week was made you rewarded me with this work. you write so well i wish i could say more to show my love for your fic THANK U FOR THISSS im so happy i have something to look forward to next week 🥹🤍

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1. Imagine_purple_love on Chapter 2 Sat 20 Sep 2025 11:58AM UTC
  
  OMG this comment 😍 thank you so so much for taking the time to write it and share your thoughts, this really is what keeps me going 💜🫶🏻 I hope you like what comes next, there'll be angst for sure so apologies in advance 😅
  
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Hm (Guest) on Chapter 2 Sat 20 Sep 2025 08:13AM UTC

Bullying? Tag abusive Jungkook, thanks

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1. Imagine_purple_love on Chapter 2 Sat 20 Sep 2025 11:26AM UTC
  
  You're right, that tag was missing.
  
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Kat_aH on Chapter 2 Sat 20 Sep 2025 03:12PM UTC

I love this chapter! It has everything in it, humor angst, betrayal, misunderstanding, and fear. I can't wait for the next chapter!

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1. Imagine_purple_love on Chapter 2 Mon 29 Sep 2025 01:54PM UTC
  
  Hope you like the next one! 🫶🏻
  
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sunkook on Chapter 2 Sat 11 Oct 2025 07:43AM UTC

And the longer time passed—the more he kept up that masquerade on Grindr—the less possible it seemed that he could ever come clean and tell Jimin the truth.—> oh:(

Jungkook nodded, but that was when he realized a part of him had hoped Jimin came to the practice field to see him. Not just to show support for his friend. —> bro

He waited. And waited. And, unsurprisingly, Jimin—ever kind Jimin—replied with all the warmth Jungkook didn’t deserve.—> ow jimin

Suddenly, all kinds of fantasies rushed through his mind, and he felt dizzy with them.—> ahsjsk

idfc
as long as i get to hav u—> he’s down bad

He thought about the video. Jimin’s video. That damn, fucking video—probably the hottest thing he’d ever watched. He stumbled, his sneakers catching on something on the ground, and quickly righted himself.—> oops

Jimin dropped down beside Hoseok, leaving Jungkook the space next to Taehyung. But Jungkook chose otherwise.
He sat next to Jimin.—> oh jk…

He hadn’t anticipated the effect of Jimin’s proximity, seeing up close what he had only seen in pictures, and the desire clawed at him until it became unbearable.—> uuuufff

“Can we start over?” Jungkook’s voice broke on the plea, raw and unguarded. For the first time, Jimin looked at him.—> owwww

He knew Jimin loved this song—calicocat13 had told goldenboy109 so.—> sjdkkd

Jimin was finally talking to him and letting his guard down.—> 🤧

With his thumb, he carefully traced the line of Jimin’s top lip, down to its corner.—> (!!!)

He had hoped Jimin might turn back. But what he didn’t know was that Jimin’s cheeks were crimson, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.—> omg

and as he texted goldenboy109 back, he couldn’t help but give him Jungkook’s face.—> owo

goldenboy109
ok
meet me behind the bleachers—> i gasped

“I’m waiting for someone,” he repeated weakly, feeling Jungkook crowding him. He looked up into his eyes and waited.—> omg… so close

“I didn’t mean—”
Jimin pushed past him, freeing himself from Jungkook’s loose grip around his wrist, and took a few steps for some well-needed distance.—> 🤧💔💔💔

“Do you think he saw me and turned around?” Jimin finally gave voice to his biggest fear—being rejected on looks alone, after weeks of building himself up and winning someone over with his personality.—> 😭😭😭

the one who’s ur type—> jk won’t let that go huh?😭

goldenboy109
but i want you to know that
ur all i think about
all day—> 🤧🤧🤧🤧

“I think Jungkook likes Jimin,” Taehyung said. “Like, really likes him.”—> wOAH

“I’m not. He was talking to a guy called calicat something.”—> oh god…

Taehyung hummed pensively. “I think Jungkook knows.”—> he figured him all out😭

And Jimin couldn’t ignore the hard press of Jungkook’s cock against his ass.
“I didn’t know baseball turned you on,” Jimin tried. —> woaHHH

Hoseok watched him and hid his smile behind his cup when he noticed Jungkook staring at his screen, grinning like an idiot.—> ahsjks

Jimin froze. Recognition hit him instantly, with no room for doubt. It was the same tattoo he had seen in goldenboy109’s pictures.—> OUUU

Jimin jerked back, breaking free from the grip, face pale, eyes wide and glossy with unshed tears.—> 🤧🥲

“No! Don’t fucking touch me!”
Jungkook froze. His chest ached in a way he’d never known, the frustration and desperation coiling inside him. —> 😔

“Jungkook lying to me isn’t surprising—I expect that from him—but you? You’re my friend! I’ve told you everything, and you kept this from me?”—> ouchhh

Amidst the chaos of the situation, the words tugged at Jungkook’s heart, offering a tiny glimmer of hope.—> he’s down bad

“I tried,” Jungkook said, defensive but desperate. “A few weeks back, he asked to meet, and I went there. I wanted to tell him, but he wouldn’t listen, and I—”—> 🤧😔

Jungkook’s heart leapt into his throat. He closed the app, reopened it, fingers trembling slightly. He hoped it was a mistake, but it wasn’t. The conversation with calicocat13 no longer existed.—> ouch….

And Jimin could tell everyone at school, and destroy his reputation with a single word.—> oh jungkook

damn😔😔 the identities are out and it’s a mess💔💔💔💔

thanks for writing!💗

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1. Imagine_purple_love on Chapter 2 Sat 11 Oct 2025 11:04AM UTC
  
  Thanks for reading and sharing your comments on the first 2 chapters 🥰 I enjoyed reading them and seeing what caught your attention! Hope you like what's next!
  
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HopeLove on Chapter 3 Sat 27 Sep 2025 05:35PM UTC

Oh Jimin is such a sweet patient little bean

These two together warms my heart

Yoongi is he best brother 🥺🥺

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1. Imagine_purple_love on Chapter 3 Mon 29 Sep 2025 01:52PM UTC
  
  💜💜
  
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jiminie_itboyz on Chapter 3 Sun 28 Sep 2025 12:52AM UTC

YASSSS CUTENESS OVERLOAD.
I’m in love with this Jikook, Author, you keep hitting the markkk 👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽

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1. Imagine_purple_love on Chapter 3 Mon 29 Sep 2025 01:51PM UTC
  
  🫡🫡 love reading your comments!
  
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MinnieMO on Chapter 3 Sun 28 Sep 2025 06:57AM UTC

Love this story!

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1. Imagine_purple_love on Chapter 3 Mon 29 Sep 2025 01:51PM UTC
  
  🥰💜
  
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Giovi_Giovs on Chapter 3 Sun 28 Sep 2025 01:18PM UTC

I'm loving this story 💜 I can't wait to read more 🫶 thank you

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1. Imagine_purple_love on Chapter 3 Mon 29 Sep 2025 01:50PM UTC
  
  Hope you like what comes next 🫶🏻
  
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