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There"s three things that can make Jimin"s breath catch.
One: butterflies. For some reason, he’s always found them captivating, and in some funny trick of the universe, he has a knack for attracting them. He loves the delicate flutter of their wings, the way they seem to stagger in their flight before finding their path up.
It reminds him a bit of himself; that lost time after high school when nothing he tried to be seemed to fit, a month-long stumble, only to come out of it sure he wants to soar towards music and only music.
Speaking of music, two: that moment at the end of the song where he plays the last chord and it all gives way to applause and cheers.
The rooms, small as they are, vibrate with life. He feeds on it, absorbs it until he feels like he could fly away too at the praise.
And the third thing is when Jungkook tries a new trick for the first time.
And that’s because he is so damn reckless. He jumps into stuff —literally— without consideration, practice, or knee-pads, and Jimin"s going prematurely white because of him.
Today, just like any other time he scolds him, Jungkook is unrepentant. He grins as he slides close to where Jimin is pouting. "I always make it!"
"You don"t!" He grabs his arm to showcase the endless criss-crossing scrapes near his elbow. He"s all bright smiles and open wounds. "You didn"t have this yesterday. Are you ever not bleeding?"
"What"s the fun in that?" He winks at him, tucking the board under his arm. “You know I like to live dangerously. On the edge.” He lifts his eyebrows. “Get it? On the edge? Cause of where we’re standing?”
Jimin rolls his eyes at this smartass he’s so fond of.
He’s scolding him right now, dammit. "Aren"t you supposed to be wearing pads on your elbows and knees?"
"He lost them again," Taehyung says from where he"s gliding through the park with lazy ease. "Third pair this month!"
"Shut up, I"ll find them!" Blond hair falls in his eyes as he whips his head to yell at Taehyung and then turn sudden puppy eyes to Jimin. "I"ll find them. This is nothing. Did you see me?"
Jimin shakes his head. "Not really, I just caught the end of it."
"Okay, then look! It’s a new one. I’m learning it now. I’m going to master it today. Look, okay?”
And he"s off.
Jimin chuckles. What"s he going to do with him.
He sits down, legs swinging over the edge, and lets his eyes do what they do best: trail after Jeon Jungkook.
All their lives, that’s been Jimin’s favourite past-time. Even though he’s the eldest, Jungkook was always the one with the ideas, the energy, the mischievous urges that got them both in trouble. Jimin’s never been the one to make the first step, but he’s always happy to follow after.
Except now, that needs to change.
Jimin’s biggest secret is a very predictable one, okay? He’s never been original. He’s always been a small-town queer boy cliche, hiding bits of himself other people might find unpalatable—for survival’s sake.
But since he dared with this music thing, it’s been going well—surprisingly so. Their town hasn’t crumbled, his parents took it well and show up at his gigs, sometimes, and his best friend has been loud and proud about his i told you so from the audience of every single performance.
So, daring, best friend, cliches, secrets, you can put it together.
It’s not his fault, he’d argue, if anyone cared enough to put him on trial about it. He was always going to fall in love with Jeon Jungook. Little Jimin was in it before he even knew what it was, and all through their awkward teens and into their unsure twenties, it’s remained unwavering.
He thinks it spills out of him sometimes. He doesn’t understand how Jungkook hasn’t noticed.
And so, to make sure that Jungkook notices, that he understands, the he gets it… Jimin is going to write him a song.
✨
There"s three things that Jungkook can look at forever. One: videos of skateboarding competitions. Actually, anything with wheels that you can do flips and kicks and tricks with is his vibe. Board, rollers, even BMX-it depends on what tickles his brain the best on any given day.
He only has a board though, so that"s what he focuses on the most. He spends hours watching and hours trying to mimic what he"s seen; his success rate is pretty good, and his pain tolerance is impressively high.
Two: their cat. He"s trying to expose her for the little monster that she is. No one in his household believes him when he says she terrorises him! His brother coddles her, so of course she acts like a princess around him, and when it"s just her and Jungkook she suddenly remembers her predatory instincts.
She"s pretty though, Jungkook will give her that.
Speaking of pretty, three: Jimin. Just…Jimin.
Okay, there"s nothing "just" about Jimin. Every time Jungkook looks, there"s something new his eye gets caught on, but the most breathtaking time is when he’s on stage.
The guy glows when he"s on stage. Taehyung says it"s just the sweat, but Jungkook is convinced it"s his halo. When he"s performing, gone is the cute, lovely personality he wears on the daily, shed like old skin, and he just becomes this magnetic, like— this—god, he"s— he—
Just. Jimin.
Look, it’s like this.
If you asked Jungkook what the best feeling in the world is, he’d—well, he’d give some bullshit answer like winning a competition, or eating a delicious, filling meal. Something innocuous that no one can bat an eyelid at, but the real answer is between him and God.
It’s when Jimin looks at him like he loves him.
And look, Jungkook knows Jimin loves him. They’ve been best friends since they were tiny. There’s a deep connection there, and real love. That’s just fact.
But there’s moments where Jimin looks at him and Jungkook thinks he can see it, the tiniest glimpse of some other kind of love.
It’s moments when they’re standing a little too close and Jungkook makes him laugh. It’s moments when Jimin spots him in the crowd of a gig, sees him wave and smile in encouragement. It’s moments where one of them is sleeping over and the night is hushed and the conversation oscillates wildly between deep and hysterical, emotional and plainly fucking stupid, when they’re a pillow away and the darkness hides most of it.
It’s the best feeling in the world because Jungkook looks at Jimin like that all the time.
So when he stares back into it, when there’s a reflection there, you could light Jungkook’s fuse and he’d blast off to space with the plain old bubbling happiness he’s filled with.
And lately, it’s been happening more and more.
Taehyung noticed too. He makes a point to roll his eyes at them when it’s just them three and they go off into their own Jimin-and-Jungkook tangents until they’re sufficiently shamed into stopping. They purposefully sit apart now when it’s just the three of them, to make sure they don’t accidentally forget about their other best friend.
Taehyung doesn’t mind, though. He’s reassured Jungkook about it one thousand times, right after giving him all kinds of shit about it. It’s a balance they’ve found, and it works for them.
“So, he’s not coming tonight?” Taehyung asks as they take a break. He elbows Jungkook and Jungkook passes him the water bottle wordlessly.
“Nah. He’s busy working on a song.”
“For the next gig?” A nod. “When’s that again? Around his birthday, is that right?”
Jungkook shakes his head. “The week before that. Two weeks from now.”
“What are you getting him?”
“No idea.” He sticks his chin on his knee, staring down into the graffitied court. “I’ve been wracking my brain, but nothing comes to mind.”
“Are you trying to beat the necklace?”
Jungkook’s fingers immediately reach for it, the necklace Jimin gave him for his birthday. He runs his hand over the smooth pick, feels the engraved name of the brand on it. The pale blue is so soothing Jungkook just takes it off to look at it sometimes, when he needs to focus on something and his brain is scattered around all four corners of the room.
Jimin had made him close his eyes when he gave it to him. Had made him a little box and everything. It was obviously handmade, a little wonky, tiny wisps of hot glue visible under the little decorative flowers. Jungkook loves it almost as much as the necklace.
And he loves the necklace a lot.
Good luck charm, Jimin had said, cheeks flushed with a shyness he catches every now and then when things get hushed and tender between them.
Jungkook doesn’t know why he didn’t kiss him then.
No, wait. Yes, he does.
He wants Jimin to do it first.
He just can’t trust his eyes, okay? He gets easily over-excited. He’s careless. He’s not the best at reading people. He might know Jimin inside and out, but what if he’s just seeing what he wants to see?
Jimin’s not like him. He’s got endless love to give, pouring out of him. He’s nice and considerate and lovely to everyone. Jungkook knows he’s special in a way, but is it really the way he wants?
Maybe Jimin would gift his first ever guitar pick made into a special necklace to any of his friends.
He doesn’t think he’s wrong, but just in case. Just in case.
You couldn’t tell from his banged up knees, but deep-down, when it matters, Jungkook is a little coward.
“Not sure I can beat the necklace,” he tells Taehyung with a sigh.
“Just think mushy and romantic,” Taehyung says dismissively. He smacks him on the arm. “Hey, did you try pinterest?”
A huff. “Thanks for being no help at all.” Also, yes he did, but that will stay between him and his search history. He stretches his neck around one more time, and okay, he’s done with break and talking. “Hey.”
“What?”
“Race you!”
He jumps down first, cackling at the curse words Taehyung throws after him before he catches up.
✨
“Listen, Park Jimin,” he points a finger to himself in the mirror, “you better get your act together.”
His reflection stares back at him with a frown that looks foreign on his face, brow all wrinkled. He sighs, running a hand through his hair, but it’s a losing battle today. It sticks up every which way, a byproduct of going to bed straight after showering at four am.
His black circles are down to his knees, basically. This song is kicking his ass, basically.
He dabs some concealer on just to hide the worst of it and drags himself to another long day at the cafe. He keeps a little spiral notebook by the till, and every time it’s slow, he takes the pen from his apron pocket and leans onto his elbows on the counter, trying to make sense of words .
how do you do it, he texts Namjoon.
?????
words
how words
still writing the mystery song?
i’m NOT
that’s the problem
:(
:(
we can talk about it at practice if you want
give you some pointers
what rhymes with lonely
um
maybe start with simpler words
like sad bad mad
work your way up
no <3
also how dare you
“only” rhymes
not much else
<3
<3
“So,” Namjoon lets out the first lungful of smoke, and Jimin rolls his eyes—it’s his oldest trick, punctuating phrases like that as if it makes him cool, “still need advice?”
“Desperately.”
“Can’t really help if I don’t know what the song’s about though, Jimin-ah.”
He shuffles from foot to foot. He buys himself some time by taking a drag too, eyes darting towards Namjoon who’s sat down on the little step, staring up at him. He bites on his thumbnail. “It’s about love.”
Namjoon smiles. “Really.”
“Yeah. Cliche, I know.”
“Love’s always a good place to start.” He licks his lips, nods a little. “You’re not the first, but no one ever is.”
“Someone was. Technically.”
“You wanna get technical about love? That’s why you’re having trouble, I bet.”
Ugh, Jimin doesn’t have time for this! He kicks him lightly, pouting all the while. “Hyung, help me.”
It’s just hopeless right now. He’s got a bunch of loose words scrawled over his notebook, but how is he meant to turn that into a love song worthy of Jungkook?
“Okay,” Namjoon says, patting the little step beside him. Jimin sits down, putting his arm around Namjoon’s elbow to chase his warmth, since the nights are slowly getting chillier. “What aspect of love.”
“Having feelings for someone,” and wow, way to be generic, Jimin. “The way it all builds and builds until you have to confess or you’ll explode.”
“Mm,” inhale, hold, release, “and what have you done so far?”
“Tried to write a song.”
“Okay, but how.”
“With a pen and paper.”
Namjoon laughs, and it’s only because it’s him that Jimin doesn’t get offended. “Okay, let me ask it like this: did you try to find inspiration from other songs? From movies? From stories? From—”
“Myself,” Jimin admits, flicking some ash away. “From myself.”
Namjoon makes an encouraging noise.
“It’s how I’ve been feeling. Recently. Or…not so recently. And I wanted to tell this person. Through a song.”
Namjoon hums. “This person.”
“Yeah.”
“Is it who I’m thinking of, or…”
“I don’t know who you’re thinking of, hyung, what am I, a mind reader?”
“A moody little thing, that’s what you are,” Namjoon says with a smile. The little flame eats up at Jimin’s cigarette. “Why not just tell him? Ask him out and tell him?”
“Because!” What an outrageous thought. “He’s special. He’s so special, and he deserves to be told in a special way, and he’s always asking me to dedicate him songs, so I—” He pulls his lips into his mouth like he can stop the words after the fact. “Shit.”
Namjoon laughs again, more of a cackle this time. Philosophy and gossip, that’s his two favourite things. “That’s what I thought.”
A groan. He collapses onto Namjoon’s shoulder. “Love is making me dumb.”
“Write about that,” Namjoon says, ruffling his hair. He plucks the cigarette Jimin isn’t smoking from his hands and puts it out, placing it gently by them on the concrete steps. “It’s great material.”
“I just want it to be…”
“Special.”
“Yeah!” Why is that the only word that comes to mind? Is his vocabulary that limited? God, he’s doomed. “It’s like, everything he makes me feel is always storming around inside of me like a tornado, you know? In a good way. A good tornado. And I just need to let it out so I can tell him, so he knows what he does to me and how much I like him, but it’s so hard!”
“Why do you like him?”
Oh, they could be here for days. “He…” He squeezes Namjoon’s arm. “You won’t make fun?”
“Nothing funny about a man pathetic in love, Jimin-ah.”
“I’ll ignore that,” Jimin says, “and answer your question. It’s because…it’s because he makes me feel safe. And I know that sounds basic, right, but it’s not. When you feel it, it’s not. It’s precious. It’s solid ground under your feet. And he makes me laugh more than anyone. Anything. He can just look at me and I’ll be so happy I’ll start giggling, you know? Just like that. Just because we’re together and it feels easy.”
“That’s pretty damn beautiful.”
“I know!” He stomps his feet, frustrated. “Why can’t I just put that into song!”
“Then why don’t you just…pretend you’re talking to him directly.”
“Mm?”
“Don’t try to write a love song,” Namjoon explains, in the calm deep voice that could convince anyone of anything. “Try to write a Jungkook song. Just for him. Forget making it romantic or epic or special or all those words, okay? Just pretend you’re talking to him, telling him why he matters to you.”
Jimin blinks. A stray cat makes its way towards the neighbour’s bins across the street. “A Jungkook song,” he mutters.
“A Jungkook song.”
✨
It’s been the longest, longest day. Jimin’s been waiting tables from before the sun was even up, and though the cafe is cute, he hates it viciously as his feet throb at the end of his shift.
But it’s okay, because he’s seeing Jungkook tonight, and he will be taking notes.
He’s waiting for Jimin outside, at the far-end tables, flipping up and down the bench with his skateboard. Jimin smiles at the sight as he swings his backpack on. At least he’s wearing knee-pads this time.
Not everyone finds the sight adorable, though. “Hey,” his boss says from behind the counter, “tell your boyfriend to stop scratching my benches or he’s going to paint them over himself!”
Jimin doesn’t bother correcting him. “Sure,” he says, the bell tingling as he leaves his working hours behind for the week. “See you Monday!”
Jungkook looks up at the sound. “Hyung!” He waves the same as he does when Jimin’s playing and he’s lost in the crowd somewhere, further back than he’d like, reaching high and waving with both hands to make sure Jimin sees him—as if his eyes aren’t drawn directly to him anyway. “Here.”
Jimin breaks into a run even though his already hurting feet hate him for it, shoving Jungkook’s coffee in his hands before pushing him away from the store. “Let’s get out of here, please.”
“Wait, wait!” Jungkook hands him the coffee back, puts the skateboard on the table. He turns around and squats, giving his back to Jimin. “Here. Jump.”
“What?”
“Jump! I’ll carry you. We’re walking home, it’s far.”
“I’m heavy.”
“Pssh, no you’re not. I’ll carry you.” He wiggles a little and it looks so silly Jimin can’t help but laugh. “Come on! Don’t play hard to get. I know you love piggy back rides.”
It would be nice not to have to walk, really, so Jimin does as he’s told. “To what do I owe this?”
“You brought me my favourite coffee. Sip,” he says once Jimin is settled on his back, and Jimin dutifully brings the straw to his lips for a sip. “Mm…perfect. My compliments to the chef.”
Jimin laughs. “Chef says thank you.” On a whim, he drops a loud, playful smooch onto Jungkook’s cheek. It’s not something he does often, but it makes Jungkook chuckle, so he knows it’s welcome. “Also, he’s a barista.”
“Best barista in town.”
“Hopefully not for long." He collapses onto Jungkook’s shoulder, their cheeks brushing together. “I need my feet. I can’t sit down and play guitar. Can you imagine a guitarist sitting on stage? It’s not cool.”
“You would be cool no matter what.”
Jimin rolls his eyes, but there’s that little flutter in his stomach. Inevitable.
Jungkook carries him all the way to his house without a peep of protest, chattering away the whole time about his day. Occasionally, he’ll squeeze Jimin’s thigh from where he’s holding it and Jimin will give him a sip of coffee, and just like that, they make it halfway across town.
“Wait,” Jimin says, confused, when he bounces down on Jungkook’s bed, “why are we in your room if your folks aren’t home?”
“Cause…” Jungkook scratches the back of his head. He looks so cute as he spaces out for a long second, processing. “Fuck, yeah. Why? Duh.” He shakes himself out of his confusion and empty-stare, kneeling back down. “Get on up. Next stop: the living room.”
Jimin kicks him gently away. “I’m not going to make you carry me to the next room, don’t be ridiculous.”
“You sure?” He grabs Jimin’s hand when it’s offered and is pulled up with a grunt, landing on his feet with a little jump. “Okay!” He skips to the living room, then past it to the kitchen to bring them something to drink. “Long day?”
“The longest.”
“How’s your song going, by the way?”
“Oh.” Jungkook knows Jimin’s writing a song, of course. He doesn’t know what about, but still, it feels strange to talk to him about it like this, like he’s walking on eggshells. “It’s…okay.”
Jungkook plops into the couch next to him, curious eyes staring in that intense way that scares non-Jimin people off. “Okay, so it’s not at all okay.”
Jimin winces. “I’m just stuck.”
“Remind me, you need it for the show? In two weeks?”
“It’s not like the band asked for it, but that’s the deadline I gave myself. I want to perform it then. I’m thinking about it all the time, but it’s so hard, you know?” He pouts. “Namjoon-hyung was right about writing lyrics.”
“You’ll get it,” Jungkook mumbles, a reassuring squeeze of Jimin’s thigh. “You want me to listen to it? Second opinion?”
Fuck. “No!” Shit, that was too quick and too loud. Something flashed in Jungkook’s eyes at Jimin’s reaction, and Jimin immediately feels horrible. “No, I mean. I told you it would be a surprise.”
“But if you’re stuck—”
“I’ll figure it out.”
“I can help,” he says, sounding a little petulant the way he does when he thinks he’s being treated like a child.
“I know.” Ah, quick, quick, fix it, fix it. He leans into Jungkook for a side-hug, makes sure his chin digs into his shoulder so it doesn’t feel too intimate. He stays there, arms around him. “You always do. But I said I’d do this one by myself.”
Hard to ask your crush to help you out with your own love confession, after all.
“Fine,” Jungkook says with an exaggerated sigh, and Jimin’s relieved to know that flash of hurt is gone. “But if the song ends up sucking, we’ll know why.”
“How’s that, my song will suck?” He pinches him on the stomach, once, then once more even harder when he tries to squirm away. “Take that back, Jeon Jungkook! My first ever song will suck?”
“No, no, I said if, I said if!”
They make a quick meal out of rice and leftovers, blasting music so loud they wake the cat from three rooms away.
“Sorry, my darling,” Jimin coos at her as she comes to tangle in his feet. He picks her up and she comes in a dignified, regal way, swishing her tail behind her. “Did Jungkookie wake you up?”
“Way to get her even more against me, hyung. You know she plots to kill me in my sleep.”
Jimin gasps, kissing her on her little head. “Don’t listen to him. You and I know you’re a good girl, huh? You’re not plotting to kill anybody? You just want scratches and quiet and some people are not ready to provide.”
Jungkook rolls his eyes. “My fault? You’re taking the cat’s side over mine?”
“I’m entirely impartial.” He kisses her on the head one more time, rubbing his cheek against her soft fur.
“Mm,” Jungkook says, “your actions say otherwise.”
“What actions,” Jimin lets her drop to the floor when she wiggles, “huh? Someone feeling neglected?”
“Not neglected,” Jungkook says, “but let’s just say that one of us got two kisses and the other only one.”
God, Jimin is feeling fizzy. How do you sing that without sounding stupid? You make my stomach feel all fizzy? Rhymes with dizzy? Breezy? Ugh.
Whatever. Tonight is about notes, not composition.
He approaches slowly, smirk on his face. “You want a little forehead kiss, Jeon Jungkook? Hm?”
“I didn’t say I wanted one, just that I didn’t get one—”
“Sounds to me like you’re wanting one.”
“I am not a baby, I do not ask for kisses.”
“Adults are the ones who ask for what they want, usually. Aren’t they? Real adults. Aren’t you always saying you’re a grown-ass man?”
Jungkook looks at him like he’s about to be caught in a trap. “Yeah.”
“Well, tell me, grown-ass man, are you asking for a forehead kiss or not?”
He’s having so much fun here, his heart hammering happily in his chest. They’ve gotten close somewhere in between the teasing, Jungkook sitting up on the counter and Jimin coming now to frame him with his arms, leaning forward.
This is just about the limit they’re always skirting. Flirty flirty flirty, and then one of them pops the bubble, and they’re back to friends again.
Jungkook leans down just a little bit more, and Jimin freezes in anticipation.
“But hyung,” he murmurs, close, “I don’t think you can reach me up here.”
This brat.
“Yah!” Jimin pinches him and Jungkook folds in two with laughter, protecting his vulnerable stomach. Jimin does it again and again until Jungkook catches his hands, eyes sparkling.
His eyes. Gotta talk about his eyes in the song. How they make Jimin feel like the only thing worth looking at in the world. How they’re so innocent and so mischievous at the same time, how they can swallow Jimin up from up close.
“Attacked.”
“Deserved.”
“You want to eat dinner or not?” A challenging eyebrow raise, even though there’s nothing challenging about the statement at all. “Hm, Jimin-ssi?”
Jimin looks at him, squints, hums…
and darts up for a quick forehead kiss.
Jungkook laughs and lets him go, but his cheeks are the cutest shade of pink, and Jimin’s still feeling all fizzy.
✨
First sunday of october rolls around, and with it, the monthly local show-off.
It always makes Jungkook giggle, but he’s always excited to go. It’s later and more crowded than usual, so the air is buzzing with excitement in between the hellos and good luck bro"s.
There’s just about enough light in the skatepark at night to see what you’re doing, but Jungkook thinks that if you have to see what you’re doing, you’re not really skating.
“Have to skate with your heart,” he tells Jimin as he does some stretching right before his turn. “Not your eyes.”
“You have to skate with your feet and your brain, Jungkook,” Jimin responds, with that signature is jungkook going to end up in the hospital tonight frown he always wears before Jungkook—well, before he does anything, really.
“Your heart,” Jungkook repeats dramatically, splaying an open hand on his chest. “Here, look.” He grabs Jimin’s hand and places it on his chest right next to his own, fingers overlapping. “Feel that? All steady. It knows how to skate. It will carry me through.”
“Okay, you wanna hear mine?” Same process, hand on heart, on Jimin’s this time. “Mine’s telling me my best friend better not be reckless about this because I really want him there for my next show.”
As if Jungkook would miss it. “I’ll be there. I want to listen to your mystery song.”
“If it’s done by then,” Jimin says exasperatedly, like that’s his only setting for tonight. “Promise me you’ll be careful and not show off too much?”
“Hyung,” Jungkook laughs, “we are literally here to show off.” At Jimin’s eye-roll, he steps closer until their heads almost bonk together, pulls out the necklace. “Look, I’ve got this. I’m all good. It’s going to protect me, right?”
“It can’t unbreak a bone,” Jimin says with a smile, “but it will do its best to protect you.”
“Mm,” Jungkook matches his smile, “so don’t worry then.” He brings his lips to the necklace for a kiss before slipping it back into his t-shirt, wishing he could be kissing Jimin instead. “See you on the other side.”
Man, the rush is unbeatable.
Wind in his hair, people’s whoops and whistles every time he does a trick, laughter and impressed shouts—it all just makes his heart float, makes him lighter.
He can feel the rush of concrete under his board, the necklace press against the skin of his chest, and Jimin’s eyes following his every move—he doesn’t need anything else.
He wins anyway.
Jimin rushes into him for a hug and Jungkook spins him around with a delighted laugh. He always get a hug from Jimin when he wins, and it’s so tied to the thrill of it that it’s practically part of the prize. He holds him, chasing his warmth just for a second longer than appropriate, his nose in Jimin’s neck, a little longer, a little closer than friends. Taehyung slams into them too, joins the hug, and Jungkook has another winner’s pin to add to his jacket.
“This one’s pretty,” Jimin says, stopping in front of him to run his thumb over it as they start to walk away. It’s shiny and pastel pink, exactly the kind of colour Jimin would love.
“You think?”
“Mm. It’s dethroned this one, I think,” he touches one of the others, the pale orange one with the word blaze written on it, “It’s been my favourite so far, but not anymore.”
“Poor little blaze pin,” Jungkook murmurs, looking down at it and all the others scattered around the right side of his jacket. “I still like it.”
“You remember that day?”
“Yeah.”
Like it was yesterday. It was the first show-off he won, back when he was brand new to this and anxious as hell. He thought he’s stumble and fall and embarrass himself terribly. But Jimin had taken him aside, away from everyone else. He held his hand loosely and reminded him about his hours of practice, the way he’d been so excited before the nerves set in. The words were wise and helpful, but Jungkook doesn’t remember them now. Instead, he remembers the way their hands felt interlocked, the boost he got from Jimin’s eyes on him.
Ah, no. He does remember one thing.
He remembers when Jimin said Pretend you’re doing it just for me, because that’s been his strategy from that day on, and it hasn’t failed him once. Just for me.
“That feels like so long ago,” Jimin mutters, hand still on the pin. He gives it a final little tap like he’s petting it and he smiles, raising his eyes to Jungkook’s. “You’ve really come so far since then.”
Jungkook’s kind of caught in how close Jimin is, his words going in one ear and out the other. He wants him to keep talking just so they can keep standing like this, stay in this hardly-lit road by the rapidly emptying skatepark and never go home.
“You’d know, right? You were there the whole time.”
“Of course,” Jimin says with a shake of the head like Jungkook’s being silly, “where else would I be?”
It takes so much for Jungkook not to lean in and kiss him. So much. Where’s his pin for that, huh? Where’s his medal, prize, fucking trophy for all the times he held himself back from changing their relationship forever?
He unclasps the pink one quickly and pins it on Jimin’s chest, right on the pocket of his denim jacket.
“Huh? Why?”
“You said you liked it,” Jungkook says, straightening it carefully, “and I would never have won it if it weren’t for you, so.”
“Good luck charm,” Jimin mumbles, a smile colouring his voice. “My necklace works, doesn’t it?”
It’s not the necklace, Jungkook wants to say, but he’s already been too soft here, too obvious—so he nods, breaking away to look up at the night sky and breathe.
✨
The show is soon, and Jimin’s still got nothing.
That might be touch dramatic, admittedly. He does have something: pages and pages filled out on his little spiral notebook about Jungkook, phrases like smile that pierces your heart and voice that hugs you when it’s all low and soft and safe, blanket, solid, protector, best friend and all these other things, but you know what he doesn’t have?
A song.
“I think I should give up.”
Namjoon scoffs at him like he doesn’t recognise him. “Park Jimin. You can’t.”
“We have one week until the show. There’s no way. Hyung, there’s no way. I have to write it and learn it and practice it and make it perfect, there’s no way I have enough time!”
“Listen to me!” Namjoon practically screams into the receiver, making Jimin wince. “That’s fear talking! Don’t let fear cheat you out of love.”
“What.”
“Don’t let yourself chicken out of confessing!” Another wince, because what the fuck is he yelling for. Is he somehow drunk at four in the afternoon? “Even if there’s no song. Just. Tell him.”
Jimin blinks. “But I want it to be—”
“Nothing is ever perfect,” Namjoon intercepts before he gets there, “nothing. Real is better than perfect.”
Jimin huffs. Screw Namjoon and his ability to philosophise at all hours of the day. Jimin’s on his goddamn smoke break next to the bins, he can’t be listening to this—plus, he’s kind of suspecting it’s not about him anymore, so Namjoon can go back to whatever thing he’s got going on right now.
“I have to go.”
“Don’t give into the fear!”
“Love you,” Jimin says with an eye-roll before slipping the phone back into his pocket.
“Who was that?”
Jimin jumps so hard he drops his cigarette, heart hammering. Jungkook’s standing there, head to toe in denim, blond hair in a low bun. Jimin slaps him on the chest, once for the scare and twice for that fucking low bun. “You scared the shit out of me!”
“Sorry,” Jungkook says immediately, hunching in on himself to protect from further attack. “Who was that? What were you talking about?”
“Namjoonie-hyung.” He straightens out his apron, stomps out the cigarette.
“You’re always with him lately.”
"Not just him, the entire band. The gig is practically tomorrow, we"re practicing.”
“Yeah, a lot.” He fidgets with one of his pins, clasping and unclasping it. “Is he helping you with your song?”
“A little.”
“So you told him what it’s about? You showed him?”
Jimin doesn’t want to draw unrealistic conclusions here, but it does sound like someone is a bit jealous.
“Nothing to show for the moment,” he tries to deflect. “Still not working out.”
“Oh.” Jungkook pulls a sad face, coming to lean next to the door by Jimin. “You’re sure you don’t need my help?”
“Super sure. No offence.” He elbows him lightly to avoid a repeat of last time. “Promise I’ll ask for help on the next one. Maybe we can write one together.”
Jungkook smiles. little strand of hair escapes his bun and he tucks it behind his ear. “Yeah, like I’m so good at words.”
“You are just as good as me.”
“So we’d be doomed, wouldn’t we?” Jimin lunges at him for his signature pinching, and Jungkook giggles and turns away defensively. “But that sounds fun. We write a song and then I teach you a trick on the board.”
“Only if you’re prepared to take me to the hospital after.”
“You are really graceful!”
“Tell that to all the chairs I’ve fallen out of.”
“But—okay, yes, you have a weird chair thing and you’re bad with like, opening stuff, but hyung, on stage? You are so graceful. You glide or something.” His eyes are big and one hundred percent for real. “Seriously.”
Jimin laughs. It’s so cute how to heart Jungkook’s taking this.“Glide or something?”
“I don’t know if glide is the right word. Float. Like a ghost.”
“This is you trying to compliment me?”
“I am!”
“Jimin-ah!” The window next to them opens and Jimin’s boss’ head sticks out. “You’re five minutes late—” His expression turns from vaguely miffed to the dictionary definition of absolutely done as soon as he spots Jungkook. “Of course.”
Jungkook waves at him quietly with an awkward smile, stepping a bit closer to Jimin as if to hide. Jimin says, “Sorry, one sec, we were just—”
“I don’t wanna know what you’ve been doing back here,” he barks, “just fix your hair and come back in!”
“My—” Huh? He immediately gets up on his tippy-toes to see his reflection in the window, looking for any fly-aways. “Is my hair a mess?”
Jungkook shakes his head. “No. It’s pretty. You parted it the other way today.”
“Mm. You like it?”
“It suits you.”
A nearly violent knock on the window. “Back in!”
“I got it!” He tries to finger comb his hair just in case, but it all seems okay. God, Jimin can’t wait for the day he gets out of here for good. “Got to go or he’ll fire me.”
“Can I come sit?”
Now, Jimin loves this cute habit more than anything, when Jungkook just comes to sit by him and they can talk throughout his shift, but the boss isn’t as appreciative. “Are you buying something?”
Jungkook winces. “If I have to.”
“Coffee and a pastry, Jungkook, or he’ll fire me twice.”
“Fine.”
He comes in with Jimin through the back entrance, and the boss throws him a dirty look immediately—but Jungkook sends back a smile and mimes eating a pastry, after which they get a dismissing wave and a grunt.
Pulling on Jungkook’s sleeve, Jimin comes out to the front. “Go sit.” He pats him on the butt for good measure. “I’ll bring you something.”
There’s a small end of the workday rush he has to deal with, so he loses track of time for a while. He checks on Jungkook here and there, and finds him on his phone, half-twirling on his high stool on the counter, so all is well.
By the time it’s all quieted down again, orders in and delivered, he looks to Jungkook, and—
Shit.
He’s reading Jimin’s notebook.
No no no no no. Did he write his name in there? He can’t remember. Shit, he can’t remember.
Jimin runs over and snatches it away, heart pounding. “What are you doing?”
He looks a little bit confused and startled, looking up at Jimin with wide eyes. “I just took it to do some doodling, but I saw my name, so I read that page.”
“What—” Jimin clears his throat. “What did you. How much did you read?”
“Um.” He fidgets with his hair, tucking and re-tucking it behind his ear nervously, which just makes Jimin nervous too, fuck. “I didn’t get a lot of it. Just some words. You know your handwriting is unintelligible to me.”
“Really.”
“Just some, um. Nice things.” Shit. Jungkook smiles, a tinge of awkwardness to it. “Am I, like. Dying. And you’re saying all these nice things for my obituary?”
Jimin shakes his head.
“Okay,” he responds, voice a little hushed, “so what was all that, then?”
“Nothing.”
A frown. “Something.”
He can hardly hear him over the rush in his ears. “You shouldn’t have looked at that.”
“You always let me doodle in your notebooks. There’s literally one of my drawings on the cover of that.”
“You should have asked!”
“I never ask!” His eyes dart down to the notebook and Jimin has the ridiculous urge to shove it under his shirt to hide it away. “What the hell’s in there that you can’t tell me?”
“Jungkook,” Jimin huffs, dying of embarrassment. “Drop it.”
He blinks. “You really won’t tell me?”
“I don’t have to tell you everything!”
Something shutters on Jungkook’s face. “Oh.” He looks down at his coffee, half-finished in his mug. “Yeah. Sure.” Just like that, the fight goes out of him.
Jimin realises he’s still clutching the notebook onto his chest, which must look incredibly weird. He folds it up and puts it in his back pocket, nerves muffling everything. He checks, but noone’s looking at them strangely, which means their fight was probably whisper-shouted.
Okay. Okay.
So maybe Jungkook didn’t really see anything incriminating. Maybe he really didn’t understand Jimin’s handwriting, and his secret’s safe for now, and Jimin’s just freaking out over nothing.
God, that was a bit of an overreaction, wasn’t it? Look at Jungkook, all wilted and scowly over the crumbs of his croissant. That’s just not right, not over a stupid notebook.
He has to fix it.
He comes closer and pokes him in the hand. Once he gets no reaction, he does it again. “Are you mad.”
“No.”
Poke. “Are you mad.”
“No.”
Poke. “Jungkook.”
Jungkook finally breaks into a laugh, clutching at Jimin’s finger. “I said no!”
Jimin smiles too, leaning forward into the counter. “Really.”
“Mm.” He splays Jimin’s fingers onto the counter, starts a weird little tracing game where he follows the outline of Jimin’s palm with his own fingers. “Really. But you have to apologise for freaking out on me.”
“Sorry,” Jimin says immediately. “I’m sorry.”
“Mm.” Jungkook nods. “Sorry for just taking it.”
Jimin leans his head onto his palm for a second, soothed by Jungkook’s tracing game, and the little blip becomes a thing of the past.
✨
Jungkook really does think Jimin is graceful. Jimin himself may not see it, but Jungkook does. His every move here at the cafe is practiced, certain—an effortless charm to it, like a little well-choreographed dance. Jungkook watches it from the counter the entire afternoon like he’s done countless hours before, staying at the counter with a second coffee for Jimin this time, to avoid the boss’ anger.
The whole time, the notebook sticks out of Jimin’s backpocket, and Jungkook can’t help but wonder.
His name was scribbled on the corner of some page, but the rest of it was filled with just fragments of phrases that made no sense. Nice things (something about sparkling eyes), weird things (such a headache sometimes), and just plain random things (bruised and battered bloody and gorgeous), all jotted down urgently, the pen leaving ghostly dents into the following pages.
He shouldn’t have pushed, even if curiosity is kind of eating him alive a little bit. Jimin reacts badly to pressure. Still, the pages are imprinted on the back of his eyelids, turning around and around in his head the whole time Jimin is occupied with the cafe.
Jungkook’s secret little heart is screaming in joy about how it’s the song, it’s gotta be, and it’s about Jungkook, and that’s why he hasn’t been showing him. His brain, trying to save him from jumping to outrageous conclusions, is whipping up explanation after explanation about why it could be anything but that.
And even if it was that, it doesn’t mean it’s something romantic. Doesn’t mean it’s a confession, does it? Can just be a gift. Like the pick.
He bonks his forehead on the counter, groaning a little. This being in love business is exhausting for his brain.
A hand lands in his hair. “You okay?”
Looking up, Jimin’s there, thumb moving to rub over the spot in Jungkook’s forehead that took the brunt of the bonk. “Yeah.”
“Tired? I’m done in twenty, if you can wait.”
“I’ll wait,” he promises, and some hopeful little urge inside of him wins over—he catches Jimin’s hand and drops a small peck to his wrist, releasing it right after.
Jimin blinks and flushes and smiles, ducking his head away and rushing to help a client who came to pay, but he darts a look back that only makes him smile wider when he sees Jungkook stare back.
Jungkook smiles to himself too, his secret little heart encouraged.
✨
Jimin doesn"t want to give up, but the show is days away and the song is not even half-written, so he has to face the facts.
He shows up to rehearsal stormy already, frustration and disappointment making him clumsy and careless: he keeps making stupid mistakes as his brain is still trying to rhyme things desperately in the background, grasping at straws until the very last.
Deep into hour three of all this, he just takes his guitar off his shoulder, shaking his head. "Break."
No one even protests, because everyone is cranky and hungry and annoyed.
“Break,” Namjoon agrees. “One hour. I’ll get pizzas.”
No one even has the strength to argue. The other two collapse into the worn out armchairs, but Jimin rushes outside, chasing after some fresh air. He"s so pissed at himself, dragging the group down in one of their last rehearsals and fucking failing. It"s a song. One song, three minutes, two verses and a chorus, how can it he so hard?
"Hey."
He jerks his head up and Jungkook"s there, waving.
“Hi!” He smiles a little at the sight despite his mood, coming closer, shoulders hunched at the chill. He came out so quickly he didn’t even think about his jacket. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s about the time you’re done, normally, so I thought I’d come see you.” He seems a little nervous, hands clutching at the strap of his bag.
“We’re far from done,” Jimin mutters, coming closer just to—just to be closer, actually, that’s all he wants. He stands toe to toe with Jungkook. “At least two more hours until the neighbours complain, so we’ll be here until then.”
Jungkook darts a look back in. “But you’re on break?”
“Yes.” He cocks his head to the side. “Why? Something up?”
“Just.” He clears his throat. “I have something for you.”
“For me?” Jimin lights up. “Is it something caffeinated? Because I swear you’d be saving my life.”
“No,” Jungkook smiles, “nothing like that. Didn’t know. Sorry. Um.” He shuffles, reaches his hand inside his bag to reveal a package. “It’s something else. Early birthday gift.”
Jimin’s heart flutters. “Really?” His exhaustion is washed away by disbelief and pure, child-like excitement. "Jungkook-ah, thank you!"
“You didn’t even see it yet,” Jungkook chuckles, placing it into Jimin"s waiting hands.
“Right, right. Sorry.” It’s a rectangular thing, wrapped in newspaper, but the corners are all sharp and expertly tucked in, the whole thing tied together with a pretty pale blue ribbon. “You did this? I can never wrap my presents this perfectly. Tell me you watched a tutorial or something.”
Jungkook chuckles. “If that’s what you want to hear.”
“Breaks my heart to tear it,” Jimin says, but he looks at Jungkook under his eyelashes, “but can I?”
“It’s just newspaper, hyung.”
Jimin tears into it gleefully, the harsh action delighting him after hours of building frustration, only to unveil…
A notebook.
It’s thin but sturdy, a simple thing—but what’s special is the prettiest, most intricate drawing of a butterfly on the front, taking up half of the cover in dark black ink.
Jimin’s stunned. “It’s so pretty.”
“You like it?” Jungkook’s smile is still a little nervous. “I think I messed it up a little here,” he points to a spot on the drawing with his pinky, “but other than that—”
Oh my god. “You drew this?”
“Yeah.”
It’s easy to recognise Jungkook’s style now he’s been told, the thick bold lines, the dynamic way it all flows together. “A butterfly.”
“That’s what I meant when I said, um, about you gliding and floating and stuff. You know how butterflies flutter like that, and they look so graceful, but also like they’re stumbling a little every time? That’s you. Graceful and clumsy at the same time.”
Jimin feels like he might explode with everything he’s feeling. He presses the notebook to his chest like he can contain it, somehow, shield the neighbourhood from the boom of all his love—but that’s before Jungkook clears his throat and whispers, there’s a note, too.
It’s written prettily in the same dark in on the inside of the cover, short and simple.
a place to write all your future songs
a good luck charm to help the words flow
xx jungkook
“I got the idea the other day,” Jungkook explains in a rush, “when I peeked into that other notebook, uh, and—it was almost done, I saw, so I figured it might help since you were having so much trouble with the song to have like, one space where you can concentrate everything. It’s a birthday gift, but you needed it now for the song, so it didn’t make sense to wait.” He bites his lip nervously. “I hope that’s alright.”
He—
Okay.
Jimin gets it now.
He understands why the fuck this has all been so impossible.
There’s just no words he can put to this feeling. There’s nothing that will do it justice. It’s fucking hubris, is what it is, to think he can describe in mere words the biggest, most all encompassing feeling his tiny frail stupid human body has ever felt.
So he just launches himself at Jungkook and kisses him.
The most adorable mmmph comes from him, but he quickly catches up, clever boy, sweet boy, stabilising Jimin with hands on his his, easy like they’ve done this before. Jimin’s arms have gone around his neck, and like, his leg isn’t quite sticking up at the back like in the movies, but almost. He plants it firmly on the ground so he can get on his tip-toes to properly kiss Jungkook again, and again, and one-last-time, before he pulls away, eyes pooling with happy tears.
“Fuck,” he tells him, cupping the back of Jungkook’s head at his nape. “Fuck, Jungkook-ah!”
“Yeah, uh—fuck. Agreed. Super—um. Super agree. What.” He blinks hard, shakes his head. “Sorry, I’m like—seeing stars right now.”
“That’s the sweetest gift ever.” A kiss to his cheek. “Ever, you hear me?”
“Hyung, thanks, but—”
Jimin cups his jaw and pulls him in for another kiss, and that giant feeling expands even more, fills him down to the tips of his fingers.
“Hyung. Jimin.” One last peck before Jungkook’s hand comes to cup Jimin’s jaw too, holding him steady. Those big pretty eyes stare into Jimin from up close, and Jimin gets the shivers. “What are we—what’s happening.”
“Jungkook-ah, the song was about you.”
A blink. A soft expression smoothing out the surprise. “Oh.”
“And it’s still not written, because it’s impossible,” he explains. “Impossible. I had all these things I wanted to say about you, and what you mean to me, and what I feel for you, and all this stuff—” He huffs, dizzy with clarity. “But there’s no way. There’s no way I can fit that all in a three minute song. It was dumb of me to try.”
Jungkook looks like he’s playing catch up, eyes darting here and there, trying to follow. “You really were going to write me a song?”
“I tried really hard,” Jimin promises, “really, I did. That stupid notebook is full of it. But I couldn’t. I’m sorry. It was too ambitious of me. Namjoon-hyung was right, I should have started simple.”
“But this isn’t simple?”
“It’s too big. And anyway, I mean…” He laughs, feeling light as that butterfly Jungkook drew for him, fluttering up up up into the night sky. “Every single love song I’ve ever sang was about you, anyway, right? So what’s the point—”
Jungkook’s hand comes to cover Jimin’s mouth.
“Mm?”
“Too much information,” he exclaims, eyes filled with panic. “Hyung, give me a second!”
Jimin laughs into his palm, nodding in understanding. Jungkook slumps onto him, forehead on Jimin’s shoulder, and Jimin smiles, pulling him closer.
He’s grumbling, and Jimin’s not catching everything, but there’s bits that float up, like seriously what the fuck and all at once and brutal.
“Sorry,” Jimin chuckles, “sorry, you’re right.”
“I like you too,” he mumbles into Jimin’s neck. “For the record.”
“Oh, good.” Jimin’s smile will be eternally carved onto his face, probably. “Good we’re on the same page.”
“I see we have a visitor.” They both turn to look at Namjoon, carrying enough pizza boxes that he has to peek at them over the stack. “How are you, Jungkook-ah? Long time no see.”
“I’m…” He looks a bit lost, still, that thousand mile stare—until he looks at Jimin, confusion clearing out. “There’s a lot going on right now.”
“Looks it,” Namjoon says with a chuckle. “We still have forty-five minutes on our break, just so you know.”
“Good,” Jimin says, and almost giggles when he feels Jungkook’s hand slip into his, fingers entwined. “Can we take one of those, hyung? I’ll be on time, I promise.”
“Sure thing.” He crouches down so Jungkook can grab a box, since both of Jimin’s hands are taken, and he smiles at them knowingly. “See you later.”
They find a quiet patch of grass around the corner, away from prying eyes, and sit down next to each other.
Jimin’s dying of hunger, so he attacks the pizza first, carefully re-wrapping the notebook and placing it behind him, away from the grease. Feeling Jungkook’s eyes on him, he turns, the piece halfway to his mouth. “What?”
Jungkook leans in and kisses him again, and Jimin doesn’t care if fizzy isn’t something people say, that’s how he’s fucking feeling—fizzy all over. He smiles as Jungkook pecks his mouth once, twice, loud smooches, ending in a happy laugh and a push. “Stop, the cheese is all over my fingers!”
“The pizza’s more important than this?” Another kiss, a full on mwah. “This is literally blowing my mind right now, hyung! Are you seeing this?” One more, and Jimin ducks away, dropping the pizza back into the box. He takes the situation into his own hands, pushing Jungkook back and climbing on top of him, pinning his wrists on the grass.
“It’s dinner time.”
“It’s kissing time!” Jungkook darts up for one more, barely grazing Jimin’s lips. “Hyung, you kissed me.”
Jimin softens then, smiling at the quiet awe painted all over Jungkook’s face. “I did.”
“What was that.”
“My confession.”
“Right.”
“Right.”
“I confessed back, right?”
“You did,” Jimin says, “but I’d love to hear more about it.”
And so, between bites of cheesy pizza and a few more stolen kisses, they tell each other everything.
✨
"Dude, you are drooling."
"I"m not!" He did have his mouth wide-open, though, so he closes it and grits his jaw. There"s a whole crowd of people, and while that"s great for the band, it"s super annoying for Jungkook and his seeing-Jimin-perform quota he needs to fill. "I can"t see that well from here."
"Good thing you listen with your ears and not your eyes. And I bet he"s played that song for you already."
"It"s not the same."
Home, everyday Jimin is timid. He allows himself to falter when he practices and try again, looking up at Jungkook with a soft embarrassed look, like he needs to be reassured it"s okay.
Stage Jimin is a whole different beast. He’s confident; he"s self-assured, he"s sexy, he"s—
Looking straight at him.
His stomach flips. He beams. "Hyung!”
He waves at him, forgetting to take care of his beer so it splashes all over his hand.
Jimin just waves at him back, throws him a little kiss that has girls in this room screaming, not knowing it"s meant for him. That pisses him off a bit, actually. Jimin sent that kiss to him, to him.
He waves again, cups his hands and yells, "Dedicate me a song!"
In the haze of people, the chaos of noise, Jungkook doesn"t know if his voice carries all the way there, but Jimin smiles a little wider, so maybe it does.
"Here, catch," Taehyung says, much later, to a much dizzier Jungkook, throwing him a fresh, cold bottle of water. Jungkook realises he"s fucking dying of thirst, his throat dry from singing along to every song. He"s dripping with sweat. "Thanks."
He’s a little bit drunk, he thinks, on the beer, the crowd, the music. He doesn’t know how many tracks they played, only that Jimin sang and performed them perfectly, the little pink pin proudly sitting on his jacket collar.
"This is the last song of the night," Jimin announces from the stage, voice silky-smooth, and the exclamations of disappointment fill the room. Jungkook’s special, though—there’s only excitement stirring in his gut, because he knows that as soon as that last song’s over, he’ll get Jimin back in his arms.
"One last song," he repeats, undeterred by the crowd’s reaction, shining the brightest he’s shined all night under the stage lights as he finds Jungkook’s eyes again, "for my biggest fan."
"It"s me!" Jungkook jumps up, grasping onto Taehyung’s shirt for balance. "It"s me!"
Jimin chuckles, away from the microphone this time, and strums his guitar.