Chapter Text
Time passed, it ebbed and flowed. Tragedies became memories, keepsakes from a lifetime ago. Jimin had heard that love never remained the same, that it deepened and lessened, never a constant, always a variable.
And there were certainly many moments in their very mundane lives when, when they fought, Jimin wondered if Jungkook loved him less, if he was going to leave—that one day he would go out to cool off and never return to Jimin again.
In hindsight, Jimin knew that he was just a tad too dramatic for always thinking the worst, but he also realized that it was a trauma response. Jungkook realized it too. For someone who still struggled to understand emotions and their significant impact, Jungkook did well in interpreting his little storm of a boyfriend’s many silences.
Jungkook’s hearing never fully came back, but he always did after a big fight. Where would he even go? Jimin was his life. His anchor. His windchime that still rang and grumbled with ferocity when they’d make up after a fight. Jungkook would only feel the resonance of his voice, until he’d lift the boy’s face to himself and say, “I can’t hear you when you’re not looking at me, Jagiya,” And that was all it took for Jimin to relent with a long-suffering sigh, and kiss Jungkook slow and tender.
Other times, the furious little swan would demand he wear his hearing aid specifically to hear him grumble. Jungkook would do just that.
So, yes, Jimin and Jungkook’s love was not variable. The many meanings of love that they had realized and discovered over the years remained a constant.
A deep and heady pit. A staircase to heaven. A lighthouse. A windchime.
On an early Chuseok morning, Jimin woke up to Jungkook draped over him like an octopus. His biker Hyung was deep in sleep, but his hard cock was digging between his asscheeks hungrily. Desire rose and rose and rose with each moment Jimin spent mapping his sleeping lover’s face. The eyebrow piercing, the lip ring, and the angry crease on his forehead that Jimin often smoothed with his fingers.
Jungkook had forgone his mullet and grown into normalcy with his short hair. It somehow made him look less ragged and more younger. Still, Jimin made fun of the two-three-grey hair that Jungkook did have.
“What are you doing?” Jungkook hummed in his sleep, catching the boy’s wandering hand and pressing it to his lips. “Come back here,” He grunted, turning Jimin back around so that he could go back to cockwarm his hard dick in between his tiny boyfriend’s very round and plump ass.
Jimin only laughed, struggling to free himself from Jungkook’s death grip. “Let me go, Hyung!” He thrashed only half-heartedly, loving the hot press of his boyfriend’s cock so close to his tight hole.
It had been a while since they’d given into their raging carnal desires (excluding that one time Jungkook ate his ass and nearly blinded him with a groundbreaking orgasm). Jimin was almost always exhausted after work, and Jungkook had been working extra hours with Jin to refine the club ever since he’d bought it from the old lady. Yes, his boyfriend was a business owner now, which by the way, was extremely hot to Jimin for some reason.
“Mm, wanna fuck,” Jungkook slurred into his neck, “S’been a while,” He rolled his hips lazily, pressing open-mouthed and wet kisses down Jimin’s neck. And though, his little swan would usually be an insatiable cockslut, it was Chuseok, and they had a long day ahead of them.
Still, they had enough time. Jungkook could take him once, fuck him slow and deep to kickstart their Chuseok, and then one more time at night after dinner with the Hyungs to end it on a sweet note – the sweet note being Jimin’s gorgeous ass on a platter for him to devour. But Jimin had already decided what he wanted to do; another one of his little quests that needed completing at all costs.
So, on an early Chuseok morning when Jungkook should be making love to his gorgeous, stunning little swan, he was trekking up a hill behind a very enthusiastic Jimin. Yongdusan Park was an escape with the view of the city and the bustling harbor below. But that wasn’t why his hopeless romantic boyfriend wanted to go there.
Near the structures and the fences next to the Busan Tower that was laden with colorful locks and promises of love and commitment, Jimin fastened one more lock with their initials on it.
JK x JM.
And a tiny little heart.
Love forever immortalized.
Jimin did all these little things that were so surreal and with so much heart that it made Jungkook realize that he still had so much to learn from his little lover. So young, so beautiful, and yet, his innocent wisdom and acceptance knocked good ol’ Jungkook off his feet.
He never went back to his old life, but he did visit his Appa once or twice, to have that smoke with him as promised, to experience some semblance of a blood relationship, and to feel grateful for the life Jimin had given him. One void of blood and violence.
“Remember when you saved me the first time?” Jimin chimed in between his thoughts as if he’d sensed what Jungkook was thinking.
“Yeah,” Jungkook hummed, wiping the red bean paste off the corner of his mouth. Jimin had gotten tired and hungry after trekking, so Jungkook got him rice cakes and found a quiet bench for them around the base of the park.
“It feels like it was only yesterday,” Jimin smiled longingly, rosy cheeks filled and bunched up. “You were so…brooding and terrifying.”
“I’m still brooding and terrifying,” Jungkook said.
“No,” Jimin giggled, finishing up his last bite, “You’re my baby star candy bunny now.”
Jungkook blinked, warm in the face, and Jimin made it worse by pinching his cheeks and cooing at him. “Hm, that wasn’t what you were moaning this morning, Jagiya,”
“Hyung, you need to stop making everything so…21 !” Jimin shot up before the biker could get to him and do something spontaneously embarrassing like kiss him in public.
Jungkook got up too, with a soft and mischievous smile on his lips and a drooping, tender look in his doe eyes. Jimin loved it when Jungkook looked at him like that, like he missed him, like he yearned for him, and desired him even when he was close.
“I can’t help it, you’re so beautiful,”
“Hyung is also so beautiful,” He said, and though Jungkook didn’t believe that he could be anything even remotely related to beautiful , Jimin believed for the both of them.
“Hyung is old,” Jungkook sighed, brushing the boy’s dark hair from his forehead with gentle fingers that still shook from time to time.
But Jimin kept him young. “Yes, my old hot biker book boyfriend.” He said with gusto, tugging Jungkook to himself by the front of his jacket.
Jungkook couldn’t help but chuckle. His online book club with Ara seemed to be going strong. “Read any of those books lately?” He asked, circling an arm around the boy’s tiny waist, and though Jimin would usually push him away in public places, he looked too in his head suddenly to care about prying eyes. There was no one around anyway.
“Yeah,” He nodded, biting his bottom lip to stifle a grin, “There’s some stuff…I’d like to try.”
Oh, Jungkook was floating on the planes of goddamn heaven. After a dry spell, he was going to get laid, and he was going to get laid good . No wonder Jimin held out on morning sex despite being horny himself.
“Does it involve you wearing lingerie?”
Jimin buzzed with that sexy thoughtful look that had Jungkook’s pants feeling a shred too tight. “It involves me…wearing nothing…and maybe a little whipped cream on my nipples.”
Jungkook swallowed so hard he felt precum bead on the top of his cockhead. Jimin was a succubus, a whole nymph with his batting eyes and pouty lips and those sinful body lines that he’d gained from dancing.
“Let’s go,” Jungkook insisted, solemn, no longer joking, and God that determined, lustful look made Jimin want to spread his legs for his big and strong boyfriend then and there. Indecent exposure be damned, Jimin could finally explore exhibitionism. “Or shall I carry you all the way to our bedroom like a bride, hm?” He threatened, it was playful but Jimin straightened right up, ready to go, because Jungkook wasn’t above carrying him all the way home and to their bed, only to fuck him with an inch of his life. His Hyung was especially mean when he was horny out of his mind, and Jimin wouldn’t be Jimin if he didn’t love making him horny out of his mind.
This was more or less their life. A glaring storm of a love, that could also be simple, gentle, softer. The metaphor of love bred in the thick of a great violence remained unaltered through the prosaic and inspiring joys and sorrows of Jungkook and Jimin’s life.
It could all get so…wordy, Jungkook thought. The true meaning of it could so easily be lost in the varying translations of life. But simply, and unpretentiously, one might say it this way:
Jimin was the windchime that tolled the loudest in Jungkook’s soundless world. And Jungkook was his lighthouse, his knight, his savior, a tower surrounded by darkness that brightened Jimin's life better than any moon or the stars of the universe.
What was love if not the stilling of hearts,
or a promise of forever,
or simply to want to kneel and only kneel to a once pink-haired boy?