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The night was stifling, and it wasn’t just because of the relentless rain flooding the city streets. Heavy drops pounded against the taxi windows, thunder tore through the sky’s silence, and lightning illuminated buildings and drenched sidewalks. The day had been bad, but the night promised to be even worse.
Jimin stepped out of the taxi, hunching against the biting wind as he tried to shield his bag from the rain. Water trickled down the collar of his dress shirt, cold and irritating, and his now-soaked shoes made annoying squelching sounds with every step.
”Fantastic,” he muttered to himself, voice dripping with sarcasm.
All he wanted was to get to his apartment, take a hot shower, and collapse into bed. But the universe seemed hell-bent on sabotaging him. As soon as he raised his eyes to the building’s entrance, he spotted a familiar figure sprinting across the street.
Jungkook.
It was as if fate was laughing in his face. The last person he wanted to see in any situation—especially on a night like this.
Jungkook, wearing a soaked leather jacket and taking long strides, seemed just as determined as Jimin to reach the building. Even from a distance, the glint in his eyes already made Jimin’s blood boil.
Their rivalry wasn’t something simple or fleeting. It had started back in high school when they were teenagers. Jungkook had been the star of a basketball team that constantly outshone Jimin’s dance team in terms of school funding. The dance club eventually disbanded. At college, the story wasn’t much different: Jungkook majored in engineering, while Jimin studied architecture, and the rivalry between the two courses had only become an extension of the private war they’d carried since adolescence.
What made it all even worse, though, was how much Jimin’s parents adored Jungkook. Back when they’d been neighbors years ago, his mom had insisted on inviting Jungkook to every family gathering. He was ”the son every mother would want,” while Jimin constantly felt overlooked, as though he’d never measure up to expectations.
Now, ironically, they were neighbors again. Not in houses side by side this time, but in apartments on the same floor. It was as if fate was determined to trap them in an eternal competition.
The two reached the building’s entrance simultaneously, both drenched and with expressions hardened by irritation. The silence between them was louder than the rain. As soon as they arrived at the elevator, the standoff began.
Jimin pressed the button first, but Jungkook, without hesitation, moved to stand beside him, deliberately bumping his shoulder.
“In a hurry, Park?” Jungkook drawled, his voice low but laced with sarcasm.
“In a hurry not to have to look at your face, Jeon,” Jimin shot back, pressing the button harder than necessary.
When the elevator doors opened, they stepped in at the same time, neither willing to give way. Jungkook’s eyes gleamed with that same familiar look—the kind of smirk that seemed designed to irritate Jimin to his core.
The doors closed, and the silence between them became unbearable again. Jimin crossed his arms, staring at the button panel as though he could ignore the other’s presence. Jungkook, meanwhile, leaned against the elevator wall, exuding a false calm that was clearly just another form of provocation.
But the silence didn’t last long. A deafening thunderclap made the building tremble, and the elevator lights flickered before going out completely.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Jimin exclaimed, throwing his head back with an irritated sigh.
Jungkook huffed, crossing his arms. “Of course this had to happen while you’re here.”
“So now it’s my fault?” Jimin turned to face him in the dim light, his eyes blazing with anger.
“If it weren’t for you, I’d already be in my apartment, far away from all this… negative energy,” Jungkook quipped, his tone mocking.
“Negative energy? That’s rich, coming from someone with your unbearable presence,” Jimin shot back.
As always, the argument escalated quickly. Sharp words were exchanged like daggers.
“You’re the last person in the world I’d want to be stuck with,” Jimin spat, his fists clenched at his sides.
“Well, don’t worry, because the feeling is mutual,” Jungkook replied, leaning slightly closer. “Even if you were the last person alive, I’d still prefer solitude. At least I wouldn’t have to look at your bland face.”
The remark hit hard. Jimin blinked, trying to suppress the urge to punch Jungkook until he was unrecognizable. But Jungkook wasn’t done.
“With billions of people in the world, who’d put up with you? I bet even your parents prefer my company over yours.”
The impact was immediate. Jimin felt as though the air had been knocked from his lungs. That wasn’t just a casual jab—it was a truth Jungkook knew all too well. He wanted to respond, to say something equally hurtful, but no words came out.
“You’re boring, Jimin,” Jungkook concluded, his voice quieter but no less cruel.
Jimin turned his face away, disguising the sting in his eyes. At that moment, the lights flickered back on. The rain clinging to his face helped mask what he didn’t want Jungkook to see: tears.
He took a step forward, deliberately bumping Jungkook’s shoulder hard before prying the elevator doors open and stepping out. He decided to take the stairs, exhaustion be damned.
Jungkook was left alone, watching the doors close slowly. He leaned back against the elevator wall, taking a deep breath. The words he’d spoken echoed in his mind, heavier than the silence now surrounding him.
“So sensitive” he murmured to himself, though a pang of regret tugged at him—one he didn’t quite know how to handle.
The constant sound of rain falling outside against the windows filled Jungkook’s apartment, blending with the silence that somehow felt louder than usual. He had just stepped out of the shower, the hot steam temporarily erasing the chill he’d felt ever since he entered the building, drenched.
Dressed in a plain t-shirt and shorts, he let himself fall onto the bed. The room was dimly lit, with the weak glow of a streetlamp outside casting shifting shadows on the walls. He leaned back, resting his head on his arms, but the exhaustion in his body wasn’t enough to quiet his restless mind.
It was inevitable. Every time he closed his eyes, Jimin’s image surfaced—tense features, eyes blazing with anger, and the heavy silence that had hung in the elevator. Jungkook sighed, staring at the ceiling.
How many fights had they racked up over the years? He’d lost count. What always began as a game, a playful competition, would quickly escalate into something far more intense, far more personal. They thrived on antagonizing each other, and no one understood that better than him.
He thought back to all the moments their routines had collided, no matter how hard they tried to avoid it. Like when they’d both head to the rooftop at the same time, each staking a claim as though it was their exclusive retreat. Or when Jimin returned late to his apartment, slamming the door hard enough for the sound to echo down the quiet hallway. Jungkook often wondered what kept Jimin out so late, but he never asked.
And then there were those nights when Jungkook, sitting in his living room with his guitar or just his voice, would sing to fill the emptiness. He knew Jimin could hear it—sometimes, after a pause in the music, he’d hear irritated footsteps in the hall, as if the other was trying to ignore the sound but failing miserably.
It was an endless cycle of provocations, small moments that seemed insignificant on their own but wove the fabric of their connection.
“Why does he have to be so… ugh” Jungkook muttered into the void, frowning.
Jimin was beautiful. That was a fact Jungkook couldn’t deny, even if he wanted to. If he wasn’t, Jungkook would’ve probably punched that pretty face a long time ago. But there was something else—something he’d never admit out loud. Arguing with Jimin made his blood race, left him on edge, as if every exchanged word reignited a fire within him. It was exhausting and addictive at the same time.
But tonight, something felt different. The words he’d said in the elevator—especially the ones about Jimin’s parents—weren’t just ordinary jabs. He knew, at least on some level, that Jimin’s relationship with his parents was complicated. Reasonably good, but far from perfect. And now that he had time to think about it, he realized how much those words might have hurt more than he’d intended.
Running a hand through his damp hair, Jungkook closed his eyes tightly. “I went too far” he admitted in a barely audible whisper.
Regret was a bitter feeling, but he knew there was nothing to be done now. Jimin was probably in his own apartment, shutting out the world—and more importantly, shutting out Jungkook.
As the hours dragged on and sleep eluded him, Jungkook turned onto his side, pulling the blanket over his body, but the discomfort from earlier lingered. Part of him wanted to apologize, but another part—stubborn, proud—insisted that doing so would be like surrendering the fight.
As thunder rumbled faintly in the distance, he closed his eyes. Jimin’s image was still there, vivid and sharp, as if etched into his mind. His face, furious, lips slightly parted, raindrops mingling with something Jungkook didn’t want to admit: tears.
The guilt weighed on him like a stone, but eventually, physical exhaustion won out, and his breathing began to slow.
At that moment, Jungkook drifted off. But even in his dreams, the echoes of their fights and the words left unsaid continued to chase him.
Jungkook’s eyes flew open suddenly, the room still bathed in the dim shadows of night. The slightly open window allowed a soft breeze to drift in, carrying the crisp, fresh scent typical of winter. He blinked a few times, trying to understand why he had awakened so abruptly—his heart racing, his body heavy against the mattress.
Then he heard it. A low, rough sound, almost like a groan. No, definitely a groan—and it wasn’t just an external noise. It was intimate, something that made his chest tighten and, at the same time, sent a sudden warmth coursing through his body.
Another groan escaped, and to his shock, it came from himself. It was as if he had been outside his own body and suddenly returned. Jungkook shivered, his breath catching as a wave of pleasure climbed his spine. A warm, wet, and impossibly stimulating sensation enveloped him, sending pulses of ecstasy directly into his still-drowsy mind.
His eyes closed instinctively, surrendering to the sensation. His body reacted on its own, his hands clutching the sheets as he felt a skilled mouth moving along the length of his erection. Each movement was accompanied by a teasing swipe of a hot tongue, provoking him in ways he hadn’t even known he wanted.
His head was tilted against the headboard, and he vaguely realized he hadn’t fallen asleep in that position. What he did know, however, was that his entire body was ablaze, moving against that mouth as if pleasure were a primal need. He didn’t resist, gently lifting his hips to seek more of that delicious sensation.
Breathy sounds slipped past his lips—a mix of pleasure and disbelief. It felt so good it bordered on surreal.
And then, as if the universe wanted to make him even more vulnerable, that mouth left him. Jungkook let out a rough sound of frustration, almost a whimper, but he immediately felt something different. There was a slight shift on the mattress, followed by a warm weight settling over his lap.
He opened his eyes, his senses still clouded by pleasure, and saw the silhouette of someone straddling him. Before he could fully process it, a hand gripped his erection, guiding it into a new heat—tighter, more intimate.
Jungkook moaned loudly, the sound reverberating through the room. He squeezed his eyes shut, afraid the dream might end—that this incredible feeling might be nothing more than a figment of his imagination. But firm hands gripped his shoulders, and warm lips brushed along his jawline, leaving kisses that felt far too real to be a fantasy.
“Are you okay?” a low voice whispered in his ear.
His eyes fluttered open slowly, and the sight before him stole his breath.
Jimin was there, straddling him. His body moved with a rhythm that was both desperate and full of pleasure, his expression one that Jungkook knew he would never forget. His lips were red and swollen, his disheveled hair falling over his forehead, and his tear-brimmed eyes gleamed as he took all of Jungkook inside him with every movement.
Jungkook tried to say something, anything, but his voice failed him. His mind was a whirlwind of shock and raw desire consuming every fiber of his being. For a moment, he almost pushed Jimin away—a reflex of self-preservation.
But then Jimin sank down again, taking him in completely, and Jungkook surrendered.
He didn’t know how they’d gotten here—didn’t know when the hatred had transformed into something so visceral, so intense. All he knew was that, in this moment, he didn’t want to stop.
Jungkook felt the heat around him, an unbearable tightness that made his senses falter as if reality itself were bending around them. His gaze locked onto Jimin, who moved over him with a mix of desire and desperate need—his blonde hair sticking to his forehead, his breathing ragged. The contrast between what they had always been—the fights, the barbs, the animosity—and what was happening now left Jungkook dizzy, lost in something he wasn’t sure he wanted to understand.
But he knew what he wanted.
It was more than desire; it was a primal urge to claim him, to make Jimin lose control. To make him forget every harsh word they’d ever exchanged and completely give in.
It was only a dream.
Without warning, Jungkook gripped Jimin firmly by the hips and flipped him onto his back against the mattress in one fluid motion, staying buried inside him. Jimin let out a gasp, his eyes wide with surprise before a rough moan tore from his throat. Jungkook watched, entranced, as Jimin’s body arched beneath him, his mouth forming words that would never be spoken.
He was beautiful.
“Look at you…” Jungkook murmured, his voice low and gravelly, almost a purr. He began to move, thrusting deeply, each motion pulling sounds from Jimin that sent vibrations through Jungkook’s own body. “My little slut. Who would’ve thought all you needed was my cock to lose that sharp tongue of yours?”
Jimin tried to respond, but the words died in his throat as Jungkook leaned in, running a thumb over Jimin’s sensitive, darkened nipples. He pinched and rubbed just enough to elicit a loud moan from Jimin, who arched his back against the mattress, his hands desperately searching for something to hold onto.
“Tell me, Jimin,” Jungkook taunted, leaning closer, his hot breath against Jimin’s ear. “Do you like this? Like being fucked so deep you can’t even think?”
“Y-yes…” Jimin stammered, but the word came out weak, broken. He was unraveling, and Jungkook could see it clearly.
Jimin’s hands tangled in Jungkook’s hair, pulling hard as the thrusts became faster, more intense. The sound of skin against skin filled the room, mingling with their rough moans.
“Fuck, Jimin… You take me so well…” Jungkook groaned, feeling the unbearable heat and tightness surrounding him. He nipped at Jimin’s ear, tugging lightly before leaving a love bite near his jaw.
“You…” Jimin gasped, desperately trying to form a sentence amidst the overwhelming sensations. “You’re not… apologizing, are you?”
Jungkook smirked against his skin, his teeth grazing lightly. “Maybe I am. Or maybe this is just my way of showing how good I can fuck you.” He punctuated the last word with a particularly deep thrust, drawing an almost feral moan from Jimin.
“You’ve always known you could,” Jimin panted.
Jungkook held Jimin tighter by the waist, the blonde’s body arching with every deep thrust. The sound of Jimin’s moans, mingled with the rhythmic slap of their bodies and the rain outside, made the room feel like another world—one where everything boiled down to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through them.
With a firm movement, Jungkook sat up on the bed, bringing Jimin along with him, still impaled on his length. The change in position drew loud moans from both of them, Jimin clutching Jungkook’s shoulders to steady himself as he began moving again, chasing a frantic rhythm.
Jungkook gripped Jimin’s waist, guiding him to rise and fall. The insane heat wrapped around him with every movement, pushing him closer to the edge. His lips found Jimin’s neck, kissing and biting with fervor, until, with a guttural groan, he exploded inside him. The pleasure was so intense that his entire body trembled as he filled Jimin with thick, hot streams.
Jimin followed moments later, his body curving as he moaned Jungkook’s name in a desperate, high-pitched tone, his release spilling between them as spasms overtook him. He collapsed against Jungkook’s chest, panting and spent, his arms loosely wrapped around the other’s neck.
For a moment, the room fell silent except for the sound of their ragged breaths and the rain still falling outside.
“You’re so different tonight,” Jimin murmured, still catching his breath. He lifted his head, his eyes sparkling and a soft smile playing on his lips. “You’re usually so gentle when we do this.”
Jungkook blinked, confused, but didn’t let it show immediately. Instead, an ironic smile curled his lips. “No need to be sarcastic, Jimin. I know I owe you an apology for earlier. I’m not sure how we ended up here, but this was my way of saying sorry.”
Jimin let out a light laugh, the sound so carefree it caught Jungkook off guard. “I don’t know what you’re apologizing for, but if you’re going to apologize like this every time we fight, we should argue more often.”
Jungkook chuckled, but something about his laugh was uneasy. He studied Jimin—the way he spoke with such softness, without the usual edge of provocation, without the sarcasm that typically laced their interactions. He seemed… different.
“Are you joking?” Jungkook asked, narrowing his eyes as a confused smile crossed his face.
“And are you feeling sick?” Jimin countered, leaning in to press a hand to Jungkook’s forehead. The gesture was so tender that Jungkook nearly flinched out of reflex. “You’re not making any sense.”
“You’re the one acting strange,” Jungkook retorted, though his voice carried a note of hesitation. Before he could say more, he leaned in to kiss Jimin, his lips roaming over his face—his forehead, his cheeks, his chin—before finally landing on his mouth. “So needy and clingy… like we’ve been doing this forever.”
Jimin laughed against Jungkook’s lips, his hands threading through the other’s hair. “Well, after dating for three years, it kind of feels that way.”
Jungkook froze. His hands were still holding Jimin, but he blinked repeatedly, trying to process the words he’d just heard.
“What?” He laughed, but it was a laugh filled with confusion, almost nervous.
“Love, I’ve told you this before, but I’ll say it again—you don’t have to apologize for having to work on our anniversary,” Jimin said, tilting his head as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I know it wasn’t your fault. We can celebrate another time if you want. Honestly, getting fucked this good was more than enough for me.”
Jimin’s words hit Jungkook like a punch, and he blinked hard, trying to piece together the puzzle. “Dating? Anniversary?” he repeated aloud, staring at Jimin as if he were an unsolvable riddle.
“Are you okay?” Jimin asked, his expression softening as he slid his fingers along Jungkook’s cheek.
Jungkook let out a nervous laugh, his mind working overtime to make sense of what was happening. He and Jimin had just had sex—that was undeniable—but now the blonde was acting like they were… a couple?
And not just that. He seemed to genuinely believe it.
Jungkook studied Jimin closely, observing the way he behaved—so full of warmth, so utterly in love. It didn’t feel like an act. It didn’t feel like the Jimin he was used to, the one he constantly bickered with over trivial things.
He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Since when are we dating, huh?”
Jimin laughed, as if the question was a joke and not a genuine doubt. “That old joke doesn’t work anymore, baby. You only say that to pretend we’re not dating because we’re married,” he teased, his laughter bubbling up as he cupped Jungkook’s face and planted a soft kiss on his lips, as though it were the most normal thing in the world.
But Jungkook remained still, his thoughts swirling. This doesn’t make sense… he thought.
The only plausible explanation that came to mind was that Jimin was playing some elaborate prank on him. Maybe it was a bizarre form of payback—a carefully orchestrated mind game. After all, they always found ways to push each other’s buttons, to test each other’s limits. But… would Jimin go this far?
He swallowed hard, his body still buzzing from the recent pleasure. Jimin lay there in his arms, beautiful and relaxed, as if everything was completely normal.
He didn’t know what was more unsettling—the idea that Jimin was so committed to messing with his head, or the possibility that… somehow, he wasn’t lying.
His heart raced, his mind spinning as he tried to figure out what, exactly, was going on. Something was wrong— profoundly wrong.
Jungkook woke up to the sound of rain still tapping against the window, the faint gray light of morning barely illuminating the room. He stretched lazily and reached out, expecting to feel the familiar warmth of the body next to him. Nothing.
The space beside him was cold and empty. He frowned, blinking a few times to shake off the haze of sleep. Was it just a dream? He sighed, running a hand through his hair. Of course it had been. There was no way Jimin had entered his apartment—much less that everything that had happened was real.
He got up, still trying to push away the thoughts circling his mind. After a quick shower, he headed to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. Everything seemed normal—too calm, even. As he placed the toast on his plate and sipped his coffee, something caught his attention and froze him in place.
There was a note stuck to the fridge that hadn’t been there before. “I love you,” it read in neat, simple handwriting. Jungkook narrowed his eyes, trying to make sense of it. Then he noticed something else strange. Passing through the living room, his gaze landed on a series of picture frames.
He approached them slowly, his heart beating faster. The photos were of him and Jimin—but they weren’t ordinary photos. They were hugging, smiling as if they were… a couple. In love. Jungkook blinked, stunned. There was no way this could be real.
Jimin had gone too far this time. He laughed in disbelief. Photoshop? Had he really broken into his apartment to set all this up? Was this his way of messing with Jungkook’s head?
With one last glance at the photos, he left the house and headed to work, but he couldn’t focus on anything. Between reports and meetings, Jimin’s image kept surfacing in his mind, along with memories of the previous night—or what he thought had been a dream.
When the day finally ended, he drove back home. The sky was dark gray, threatening more rain, and it wasn’t long before it started pouring, making traffic even worse.
As he parked his car at the building, he noticed a taxi pulling up ahead. Jimin got out, running to escape the rain, muttering something Jungkook couldn’t hear. He raised an eyebrow.
They reached the building entrance at the same time and exchanged a brief glance. Jimin gave a faint smile before hurrying inside. They rode the elevator together, but the silence was almost tangible. Jungkook was still trying to make sense of what was happening.
As soon as the elevator door closed, a wave of déjà vu hit him. The sound of the rain in the background, the confined space… everything was repeating itself. But unlike the day before—or what he remembered—Jimin didn’t seem hostile.
Suddenly, the elevator jolted and stopped.
“Just perfect,” Jungkook muttered, irritated.
“Ah, lucky us to get stuck together,” Jimin remarked, his tone relaxed, almost playful. He turned to Jungkook, his eyes gleaming. “You seem stressed. Want to talk about it?”
Before Jungkook could respond, Jimin stepped closer, his arms naturally wrapping around the other’s shoulders. The gesture was intimate, effortless, and left Jungkook completely off balance.
“Are you messing with me again?” he asked, trying to ignore their proximity.
“Messing with you? Baby, what’s wrong with you?” Jimin asked, genuine concern in his voice. “You’ve been acting different since this morning…”
“Different how?” Jungkook narrowed his eyes, trying to read Jimin’s tone.
“More intense. I like it,” Jimin murmured, a mischievous smile spreading across his lips before leaning in and kissing him without hesitation.
Jungkook froze, shock rippling through every fiber of his being. The kiss was warm, urgent, and too familiar. This can’t be real.
“Jimin…” he began, but the blond smiled against his lips.
“Do you want to keep this up here, or should we wait until we get upstairs?” Jimin teased, kissing the corner of his mouth before trailing down to his neck.
“You’re messing with me,” Jungkook repeated, gripping Jimin’s waist and pressing him against the elevator wall.
“I really enjoy messing with you,” Jimin whispered, his eyes sparkling with a mix of pleasure and amusement.
The lights suddenly flickered back on, and the elevator resumed its movement, but neither of them seemed to notice until the doors opened. Jungkook grabbed Jimin by the waist, pulling him out, and they headed for the apartment. The déjà vu was stronger now, but he had no intention of stopping to think. He’d figure out what was going on—later. For now, all he wanted was Jimin.
It was wrong to give in to the game of revenge Jimin seemed determined to play, but Jungkook no longer had the strength to resist. The truth was, Jimin’s body was a powerful weapon, and his face… well, his face looked like it had been hand-drawn, as perfect as a cloudless sky. And now, here, so needy and sulky, it was hard to remember that this was the same sharp-tongued Jimin, the one who never missed an opportunity to throw cutting words like knives.
But that same tongue—and that same mouth that so often delivered barbs—was now letting out soft moans and kissing him in a way that made Jungkook forget everything.
When they finally made it into the apartment, their clothes already slightly disheveled, Jimin looked at him with a smile that was half amusement, half challenge. It only made Jungkook’s blood boil even more. He grabbed Jimin by the hips, kissing him with an intensity that bordered on anger, frustration, and pent-up desire.
“You think you can make a fool out of me, don’t you?” Jungkook murmured against Jimin’s lips before biting them lightly. “You think I won’t fight back?”
Jimin, his eyes glinting with provocation, simply laughed. “I’m innocent,” he teased, a playful edge to his voice. “But I’ll accept my punishment, sir.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll make sure the spell backfires on the sorcerer,” Jungkook growled, gripping Jimin’s waist harder before throwing him onto the couch with an ease that was almost unnerving. He climbed on top of him, keeping his gaze locked on Jimin’s. “You’re not walking away unscathed. Neither am I. We’re both going down.”
Jimin blinked a few times, his lips curving into a cocky smile. “You sound like a character out for revenge right now.”
“I am. Revenge, satisfaction, pleasure… call it whatever you want. Just know that your ass is going to pay the price.”
Jungkook practically growled the last sentence as he grabbed Jimin’s shirt, unbuttoning it quickly but not breaking eye contact. When he finished, he pushed the fabric aside to expose Jimin’s smooth chest and leaned down, taking one of his nipples into his mouth. He sucked hard, drawing a loud, trembling moan from Jimin, who clutched his shoulders as if trying to steady himself.
Then Jungkook moved to the other side, alternating between firm sucks and light bites, his strong hands gripping Jimin’s waist. The moans grew louder, a mix of pleasure and surprise, and Jungkook took the opportunity to trail wet kisses down Jimin’s chest, over his toned, soft stomach, until he reached the waistband of his pants.
With skilled fingers, he unfastened Jimin’s belt with a swift tug and tossed it aside, the clinking of metal echoing in the quiet room. Wasting no time, he gripped the waistband of both Jimin’s pants and underwear, pulling them down in one motion, exposing warm skin and a body already completely surrendered.
Jimin’s cock was hard, throbbing, the tip glistening with precum. Jungkook ran his tongue over his bottom lip, a satisfied smirk forming on his face.
“You’re a menace,” he murmured before pressing kisses to each side of Jimin’s hips, his lips grazing sensitive skin and sending shivers through Jimin’s body.
Jungkook lowered himself further, finally wrapping his lips around Jimin’s aching cock, sucking hard and pulling a hoarse, desperate moan from him. He alternated between long, deliberate movements and slow, teasing licks along the length, his hungry gaze fixed on the expression of pure ecstasy on Jimin’s face.
But he didn’t stop there. Holding Jimin’s thighs firmly, he lifted his legs, folding them back to expose exactly what he wanted. Jimin gasped, his hands clutching at the couch fabric in anticipation.
Jungkook dragged his tongue along the sensitive area between Jimin’s balls and his entrance before finally reaching the tight little hole that clenched at the first contact. The initial lick drew a sharp cry from Jimin, and soon Jungkook was devouring him with unrelenting hunger, licking and sucking with slow but deliberate intensity.
“Ah… Jungkook!” Jimin moaned, his voice breaking as his body writhed under Jungkook’s skilled tongue.
Jungkook didn’t relent, alternating between licking and swirling motions, then pressing the tip of his tongue into the tight entrance, pushing deeper and deeper, pulling sounds from Jimin that were almost screams of pleasure.
Jimin was a mess, utterly undone, his face flushed, his body arching, and Jungkook knew he was winning—or at least he was determined to win. Jimin’s game might have been dangerous, but Jungkook was willing to risk it all to prove that, in the end, he was still in control.
Jungkook ate Jimin out until his jaw ached, not stopping until the blonde was trembling beneath him, his body writhing with every lick and suck. When he finally stopped, he climbed back up over Jimin, one knee on the couch between his legs and the other planted on the floor. He leaned down, their faces mere inches apart. Jimin’s eyes sparkled with a mix of fascination and exhaustion, and he smiled, still trying to catch his breath.
Jungkook couldn’t resist and kissed him, deeply, as if trying to make the moment last forever. Jimin could taste himself on Jungkook’s tongue, and a shiver ran down his spine. When the kiss ended, Jimin cupped Jungkook’s face with both hands, his fingers gliding gently along the sharp line of Jungkook’s jaw.
He kissed the tip of Jungkook’s nose and whispered:
“I love you.”
Then, as if to reaffirm every word, he kissed Jungkook’s cheeks, first one, then the other, with a tenderness that starkly contrasted with the intensity from minutes before.
Jungkook held his breath. Part of him wanted to believe it, even though he knew it was just a game. He almost—almost—prayed those words were real, that they weren’t just part of the act. His stomach tightened, his heart raced, and he rested his forehead against Jimin’s chest, taking a deep breath.
Jimin ran his fingers through Jungkook’s dark hair before placing a soft kiss on the top of his head.
“You’re playing dirty,” Jungkook murmured, his voice rough and gravelly.
“Did I break you?” Jimin asked in a tone that was playful but sweet. “I’ve been telling you I love you every day for three years, you fool.”
The sincerity in his voice, so full of emotion, made Jungkook’s chest tighten even more. He let out a short, almost ironic laugh, as if trying to brush off the weight of a truth that felt too plausible.
“Really? I must have Alzheimer’s, then.” He raised his head to meet Jimin’s gaze, searching for any sign of deceit. But Jimin’s eyes glimmered, as if each word had been pulled straight from his heart.
“If that’s the case, I’ll remind you right now just how much I love you,” Jimin replied with a mischievous smile.
He shifted on the couch, leaning back against the cushioned armrest. Grabbing Jungkook’s waist, he pulled him closer, positioning him so he was kneeling with one leg on either side of Jimin’s body. Jungkook let himself be guided, as if hypnotized by the intensity in Jimin’s gaze, which seemed to strip him of all rational thought.
Jimin started kissing Jungkook’s toned abdomen, leaving small bites and licks along the way, never breaking eye contact. His warm tongue slid over the skin until it reached the waistband of Jungkook’s pants. With a swift motion, he pulled down both the pants and underwear in one go, revealing Jungkook’s hard, throbbing cock, already glistening with precum at the tip.
Jimin licked his lips, his pink tongue moving slowly as he kept his eyes locked on Jungkook’s. Then, with a teasing smile, he gave the tip a long, deliberate lick, tasting him before repeating the motion, slower this time, as if savoring him.
“Fuck, Jimin…” Jungkook groaned, his body trembling as Jimin finally took the head fully into his mouth, sucking hard.
Jimin’s mouth was warm, tight, and skillful. He worked Jungkook’s cock with an unhurried rhythm, as if he wanted to draw out the moment, but Jungkook was losing control.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous with my cock in your mouth,” Jungkook murmured, his voice deep and raspy, his fingers tangling in Jimin’s blonde hair.
Jimin responded with a muffled moan, and without warning, Jungkook began to thrust, his hips moving with force. Jimin’s mouth stretched to accommodate him, but he didn’t pull back, his throat relaxing to take everything Jungkook gave him.
“That’s it… fuck, look at you,” Jungkook groaned, pleasure washing over him in waves. “Your mouth and my cock were made for each other.”
After a few more hard thrusts, Jungkook pulled out of Jimin’s mouth just to watch him lick along the side of his cock, drooling shamelessly. Jimin returned to the tip, sucking it with renewed vigor, making Jungkook grab his hair and push him down again, this time even deeper.
“Take it all,” Jungkook commanded, holding Jimin’s head in place as he came down his throat, every spasm making his body shake.
Jimin obeyed, swallowing every drop without breaking eye contact, his gaze gleaming with a mix of feigned innocence and raw lust. When he was done, he licked his lips and smirked, as if he knew exactly what he was doing.
Jungkook took a deep breath, his body still tingling, and he couldn’t help but think: he was screwed—not just in the literal sense.
Even with the storm raging in his mind, Jungkook decided to surrender to the moment. He stripped off the rest of their clothes, and the two of them settled on the couch, tangled together. Jimin lay sprawled over him, his face buried in Jungkook’s neck, while his fingers traced gentle patterns over Jungkook’s chest. Jungkook, in turn, kept one hand firmly on Jimin’s waist, the other possessively caressing the curve of his ass. It felt so… natural. So right.
“I think I’ll finally take you up on your offer to move in with you,” Jimin broke the silence, his voice low and lazy. “It’s been three weeks since you last let me go back to my apartment.”
Jungkook chuckled, the deep sound rumbling in his chest.
“Really? That’s great. You can move in today if you want,” he teased. “We’ll lock ourselves in my room for a week to celebrate.”
Jimin laughed and gave his chest a playful slap.
“You’re impossible.”
“And you love that about me,” Jungkook replied with a satisfied grin.
Jimin bit his lip, as if hesitating before saying something.
“You know… I’m really enjoying this more aggressive side of yours in bed lately,” he said casually, though his tone carried a hint of provocation.
Jungkook raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
“Oh, yeah? And why only now?”
“Because you only get like this when you’re drunk,” Jimin answered, bursting into laughter. “And then you ask me to call you hyung. It’s hilarious how much you change.”
“I just want to give you what you deserve,” Jungkook shot back, giving Jimin’s ass a firm smack that made him squeak in surprise.
They laughed together, the moment so intimate it felt as though the rest of the world didn’t exist. Slowly, exhaustion caught up with them, and they fell asleep right there on the couch, still tangled in each other’s arms.
Later, Jimin was the first to wake. He smiled at the sight of Jungkook sleeping deeply, his features relaxed and almost innocent. Leaning down, Jimin kissed his shoulder before quietly getting up and heading to the bathroom to take a shower.
Not long after, Jungkook stirred, immediately noticing Jimin’s absence. Hearing the sound of running water, he grabbed his phone to pass the time. But as he opened his photo gallery, he froze in shock.
There were thousands of pictures of him and Jimin. Some were simple—selfies in the snow or by the pool. Others captured them in candid moments, smiling at the camera. A few even carried a bolder, more intimate tone that made Jungkook’s ears burn. He didn’t remember taking any of them.
If they were edited, they were done incredibly well. But the idea that they were fake seemed absurd. There was something about those photos—about the way they looked together—that radiated authenticity.
Was he losing his mind? Could this be reality, and the animosity between them just a bad dream?
His head throbbed with confusion. He needed answers. Scrolling through his contacts, he found Hoseok’s name and called without thinking twice.
After two rings, Hoseok picked up, his voice slightly surprised.
“What’s up, little bro? Something wrong for you to be calling this late at night?”
“Hobi…” Jungkook took a deep breath before blurting out, “Jimin agreed to move in with me.”
He paused, waiting for Hoseok’s loud, teasing laugh—something to confirm this was just an absurd joke.
But what came next was entirely unexpected.
“Really? Wow, what a shock,” Hoseok replied sarcastically. “Wasn’t he already practically living there? You two are glued at the hip.”
Jungkook frowned, his heart racing.
“Don’t you think… it’s weird? Us living together?”
Hoseok laughed, as if the question was ridiculous.
“Why would it be weird? You two have been in love forever. Don’t tell me now that he’s agreed, you don’t want him to move in anymore?”
“That’s not it,” Jungkook said quickly. He hesitated. “I do want it. It’s just that… I can’t seem to keep my hands off him. That’s the problem.”
“Oh, I get it,” Hoseok said, clearly amused. “You’ve been together for over three years, and the spark’s still that strong? Man, that’s rare. Count yourself lucky.”
Jungkook swallowed hard, his mind spinning. Three years? Was that right?
“I just… I want to be with him—and in him—all the time,” he confessed, almost like a guilty admission. “Sometimes, I’m angry at myself for it.”
“It’s normal, but let me give you some advice,” Hoseok said, laughing. “Give him a break every now and then. Get him some massages, maybe stock up on creams and painkillers. If you’re planning on an extended honeymoon phase, he’ll need it.”
Jungkook muttered something unintelligible, lost in his thoughts, and said goodbye before hanging up.
He was officially losing his mind. Either that, or the entire universe was conspiring to convince him this was his reality.
When he put down his phone, the sound of running water stopped. Moments later, Jimin appeared in the living room, a towel wrapped around his waist and his blond hair still dripping. Seeing him, Jungkook couldn’t help but wonder: Is this version of us real… or do I just not want to wake up?
“Hi, baby.” Jimin smiled, his lips curving in a way that radiated confidence and affection.
“Hi, gorgeous.” Jungkook’s response was automatic, his voice carrying a warmth he couldn’t suppress. For a moment, the confusion clouding his mind seemed to dissipate, his eyes locking onto the figure before him. He couldn’t look away. “Come here.”
Jimin walked toward him with an almost predatory grace, unconscious but irresistible. His feline eyes sparkled with something Jungkook couldn’t quite place—affection or sheer provocation. He looked like a vision, a dream impossible to ignore.
When Jimin settled into his lap, Jungkook inhaled deeply, taking in the fresh, invigorating scent emanating from him. The touch of Jimin’s hands on his chest was a perfect blend of comfort and desire.
“And what happens when I wake up tomorrow or the day after, and you hate me?” Jungkook asked suddenly, the words spilling out like a thought spoken aloud.
Jimin frowned for a brief moment before softening his expression. He cupped Jungkook’s face with tender hands.
“That won’t happen. We’ve been through too much together, and even when I hate you, I still love you,” he said, thinking Jungkook was just nervous about the idea of them living together.
He paused, studying Jungkook’s confused expression, and continued with unwavering sweetness:
“But if you’re unsure… if you’ve realized you’re not ready for this, you can tell me. I won’t move in. Things can stay just as they are. All I want is for you to feel comfortable.”
Jimin’s words were soothing, but to Jungkook, they brought more pain than solace. He wanted desperately to believe in this version of reality, but doubt gnawed at him.
“It’s not that, baby, I just…” He tried to explain, but his voice faltered. How could he put into words the storm raging inside him? Jimin wouldn’t understand, because none of this seemed wrong to him.
Jungkook was growing used to it all: Jimin’s love, their intimacy, the warmth of his touch, the sound of his laughter, even the way he fit so perfectly in his arms. But what terrified him was the thought of it all ending. He didn’t know how he’d survive without it.
“I love you,” Jimin whispered in his ear, his voice soft and melodic. He pressed a gentle kiss to Jungkook’s cheek and continued, “So, so much.” Each word was punctuated by small kisses he scattered across Jungkook’s face, making his heart race erratically.
Jungkook couldn’t bring himself to reply. His chest tightened with the weight of that confession because it felt too right, too real. Instead, he cupped Jimin’s face in his hands and kissed him like it was the last time. His tongue found Jimin’s, exploring every corner of his mouth with urgency, as though trying to memorize his taste. Finally, he bit Jimin’s bottom lip lightly before sealing the moment with a soft peck.
Jimin smiled against his lips, his cheeks flushed and his breathing uneven. He looked so endearingly vulnerable in that moment that Jungkook wished he could stop time.
And then, without knowing why, Jungkook asked:
“What if… in another scenario, we hated each other from the start? If, instead of loving each other, we spent our days arguing, trading insults, annoyed just by being in the same room… what would you do?”
Jimin tilted his head to the side, thoughtful, then shrugged with a playful smile.
“Hmm, I don’t know… I guess we’d have to find a way to change that. One of us would have to take the first step and talk, letting go of all the animosity.”
He paused, meeting Jungkook’s eyes directly, as if he already knew all the answers.
“If I took the first step and you gave me a chance… I think I’d realize how wrong I’d been about you. And in that first conversation, I’d probably fall for you. After that, we’d grow closer, laughing at how stupid we’d been. And all the while, I’d be winning you over. In the end, we’d end up right here, just like this.”
Jimin laughed at Jungkook’s perplexed expression, as if Jungkook didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
“You’ve got all the solutions, don’t you, smartass?” Jungkook murmured, his voice thick with emotion.
But inside, his heart was pounding so fast he feared Jimin might hear it. Whatever the truth is, I want him to be right.
They went to bed together, their bodies entwined beneath the sheets. Jungkook, however, lay awake for a long time. The fear of waking up to find Jimin distant, cold, or worse, gone, hung over him like a suffocating shadow. He stayed awake, watching Jimin’s serene face, memorizing every detail, as if it might shield him from what he feared. But eventually, exhaustion claimed him, and he fell asleep with a heavy heart.
In the morning, Jungkook woke with a hollow sense of foreboding. The first thing he did was reach for the side of the bed where Jimin had been sleeping, but his hand found only cold, empty sheets. His breathing quickened as he opened his eyes with a start, his heart pounding erratically.
“Jimin?” he called, but the room answered with silence.
He got up in a rush, panic surging through him. He checked the bathroom first—empty. He ran down the hallway, bare feet against the cold floor, to the living room—no one. Then he heard a sound coming from the kitchen. Practically sprinting, he reached the doorway and felt a wave of relief crash over him when he saw Jimin leaning against the counter, his phone pressed to his ear.
Jungkook stopped in the doorway, taking a deep breath, the tension slowly draining from his shoulders. He didn’t rush to Jimin immediately; something made him hesitate. Jimin was speaking into the phone, and there was something in his tone that Jungkook couldn’t quite decipher.
“Woon, I swear, it felt so real,” Jimin said, his voice low and contemplative. He sighed, his fingers drumming idly against the counter. “I love him—I can’t even imagine another universe being different—but he’s been acting strange lately…”
The words hit Jungkook like a bolt of lightning. He furrowed his brows, confused. Felt real? Another universe? Jimin’s conversation was an enigma, a piece of a puzzle Jungkook didn’t yet know how to assemble.
But for now, that didn’t matter. The relief of seeing Jimin there, hearing him speak with affection, outweighed any doubts.
Jimin ended the call with a brief smile and placed the phone on the counter. Before he could turn around, Jungkook closed the space between them and wrapped his arms around Jimin’s waist from behind.
“Good morning, gorgeous,” Jungkook murmured, his voice husky against Jimin’s neck. He planted a lingering kiss there, breathing in the fresh, familiar scent that always calmed him.
Jimin relaxed in his arms, a soft smile curving his lips. He tilted his head to the side, giving Jungkook more access. “Good morning, baby,” he replied, his voice as sweet as the moment itself.
Jungkook pulled him closer, closing his eyes as though trying to hold onto the moment forever. He didn’t yet know what any of this meant, but for now, Jimin was here, and that was enough.
After breakfast, the day unfolded peacefully. It was a Saturday, and they decided to stay home and catch up on some work. Jimin was seated on the couch, tablet in hand, sketching lines that would soon transform into complex architectural forms. His focused gaze shifted between the screen and some scribbled notes beside him.
Across the room, Jungkook worked on calculations on his laptop, his fingers tapping the keys as he tried to concentrate. But every so often, his eyes drifted to Jimin. The way Jimin furrowed his brow and chewed on the end of his pencil was oddly captivating. He seemed so different from the Jimin who used to argue with him, tease him, and occasionally challenge his ideals—not that Jungkook had been any different back then.
When Jimin finally set the tablet aside and stretched, Jungkook couldn’t help but smile.
“What are you smiling at?” Jimin asked, raising an eyebrow as he stood.
“Nothing,” Jungkook replied, closing his laptop. “I just think it’s funny how serious you look when you’re drawing. It’s like you’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders.”
Jimin smiled as he walked over to him. “Well, if I don’t, someone’s bound to screw it up.”
“Hey, I heard that! Our companies work together for a reason!” Jungkook replied with a laugh, standing up as well.
“You were supposed to hear it. Now, come on, Chef. Let’s cook.”
In the kitchen, the atmosphere was light and playful. Jimin took charge of chopping the vegetables, his precise movements revealing how comfortable he was with the routine, while Jungkook focused on the pasta sauce. He stirred the pot with practiced ease, the apron tied around his waist giving him the air of a professional chef—or so he liked to think.
Jimin paused for a moment, setting the knife aside, and walked over to him, wrapping his arms around Jungkook from behind.
“Done chopping already?” Jungkook asked, glancing back at him.
“Nope. But you look so good in that apron, I couldn’t resist,” Jimin said with a mischievous smile.
Jungkook turned off the stove, stepping away from the burner to face him fully. “Oh, yeah? Sexualizing the chef now?”
“Sorry, but if you were in my shoes, you’d understand. I’m weak,” Jimin said, pouting slightly.
“Don’t worry. Your handsome chef will feed you properly first,” Jungkook said, winking. “Then you can be dessert.”
Jimin laughed, playfully swatting Jungkook’s chest. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Ridiculous or irresistible?” Jungkook teased, turning back to the stove to tend to the sauce.
“Careful, Chef. The sauce might burn,” Jimin pointed out, making Jungkook sigh as he quickly stirred the pot and tasted the sauce with a spoon.
“Here, taste this,” he said, blowing on it to cool it down before holding the spoon out to Jimin.
Jimin tried it, letting out a satisfied hum. “Hmm, it’s perfect.”
“Let me confirm,” Jungkook replied, pulling Jimin into a sudden kiss, savoring the taste of the sauce still lingering on his lips. “Confirmed. It’s amazing.”
The rest of lunch was filled with laughter, flirting, and double entendres about “eating.” Jungkook, as lost as he felt in the midst of it all, couldn’t deny how special these moments with Jimin were. If another universe felt distant and uncertain, he was beginning to accept that here, living like this with Jimin, might just be what he’d always wanted—even if he hadn’t realized it before.
The days felt like a beautiful dream. Jungkook was growing more attached to Jimin with each passing moment. His touch was a constant reminder that they were together, that their love could be real. But along with the happiness came fear—a suffocating fear that Jungkook tried to hide. And that night, when Jimin hadn’t yet come home, the fear began to consume him.
Jungkook sat in the living room, a glass of whiskey in hand, staring at the door. He had lost count of how many times he had glanced at the clock. The silence around him seemed to mock him. What if he doesn’t come back? What if it’s over?
A few more sips, and he started drowning in his thoughts. The fear whispered that Jimin was at his old apartment, laughing about how easily Jungkook had fallen for the trap. Maybe he’s just waiting for the perfect moment to destroy me. He’s always wanted revenge, hasn’t he? Why would this time be any different?
When the door finally opened, Jungkook was slightly buzzed but not entirely drunk. Even so, his body moved on instinct.
“Hey, love, sorry I’m late. The traffic was—”
Jimin didn’t get to finish. Jungkook crossed the room in a few strides, his hands gripping Jimin’s waist as he pulled him into a searing kiss.
“Jungkook—” Jimin tried to say between kisses, but his voice was muffled.
“Don’t talk,” Jungkook murmured against his lips, desperation evident in every touch. He pressed Jimin against the wall, his hands sliding down to squeeze Jimin’s ass, pulling him closer. Their bodies were flush, the friction between them electrifying even through their clothes as they started to harden.
“Calm down, baby… calm down…” Jimin pleaded, but his voice was broken by soft moans. His eyes fluttered shut, his head tilting back as he surrendered to the sensations.
“I won’t calm down,” Jungkook growled, his voice rough and primal. “I want you. I want to be so deep inside you that you’ll never be able to escape me.”
“Do it,” Jimin whispered, his hands clutching Jungkook’s shoulders. “I don’t want to think about any reality other than this one.”
Jimin’s words made Jungkook freeze abruptly. He stared at him, dark eyes glinting with a mix of passion and confusion. “Again? Why did you say that?”
“Say what?” Jimin asked, blinking in confusion.
“That… ‘another reality.’ Are you messing with me?” Jungkook’s voice trembled, heavy with a deep-seated fear.
“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jimin replied, frowning.
“Tell me the truth!” Jungkook shouted, suddenly letting him go and stepping back. “Why are you acting so strange? Sometimes you remind me of someone I knew before… before all of this!”
“What are you even saying? Do you hear yourself right now?” Jimin’s voice rose in frustration.
“I don’t know what’s real!” Jungkook exclaimed, running his hands through his hair. “What if all of this is just a lie? What if you’re doing this to get revenge on me? You’ve always hated me, Jimin! And now… now that I finally believe we’re happy, you’re going to tell me it was all an act? That I’m an idiot for falling for it, aren’t you?”
“I would never do that!” Jimin retorted, but his eyes were already glistening with unshed tears.
“How can I know that?!” Jungkook yelled, his voice cracking. “You’re so… so cruel. Wasn’t there another way to get back at me? Why would I believe everything changed overnight?” Hot tears streamed down Jungkook’s face now.
The silence that followed was heavy. Jimin took a deep breath, stepping back, his expression hardening. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, Jungkook. But I… I can’t deal with this right now. I’m going back to my apartment.”
As he started toward the door, panic surged through Jungkook.
“Jimin, wait!” He ran after him, gently grabbing his arm as he opened the door.
“Let go,” Jimin said, his voice low and filled with hurt.
“Please,” Jungkook begged, his voice breaking. “Don’t go. Forgive me. I just… I just want to be with you. I don’t want you to hate me… I don’t want to hate you.”
Jimin looked at him, his anger mingling with sadness. He sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Then think before you shout nonsense, Jungkook. Because I don’t want to lose you either.”
Jimin’s words broke something inside him.
“I love you,” Jungkook confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.
Jimin blinked to push back the tears.
“I love you,” Jungkook repeated, laughing softly, as though hearing himself for the first time. “I love you, Jimin. And now I know it. I know I want you, here, with me, always.”
“I love you too, you idiot,” Jimin replied, and a small smile tugged at his lips. “When you’re scared, tell me. But don’t lash out at me like that. I’m here with you.”
They embraced—a desperate, tight hug as if trying to piece each other back together.
Jungkook pulled him even closer, his voice low and husky in Jimin’s ear. “How about we pick up where we left off earlier?”
Jimin chuckled softly, kissing his neck. “You and your way of apologizing.”
They entered the apartment, and before the door even closed, Jungkook was already pulling Jimin’s clothes off. They tumbled onto the living room rug, their bodies fitting together with a desperate need. Jungkook repeated, “I love you,” like a mantra, his movements intense and filled with emotion.
Later, when they both reached their peak, they collapsed onto each other, sweaty and tangled on the floor.
Hours later, Jungkook woke up with a chill running down his spine. The words “I love you” echoed in his mind. And then, like flashes of a camera, memories began flooding in. Trips, laughter, their first kiss, the moment he asked Jimin to be his boyfriend—everything was there, vivid and real.
He opened his eyes, alarmed.
“Jimin?” Jungkook called out, panic lacing his voice.
But the space next to him was empty. He felt the air leave his lungs, as if he’d been punched. He wasn’t in the living room anymore—he was back in his own bedroom. Alone. Empty. Cold. No longer wrapped in Jimin’s warmth. The silence was deafening, and reality hit him with a cruel force.
Jumping out of bed, he started searching the apartment, looking for any trace of Jimin—his clothes mixed with Jungkook’s, the glasses they’d used together in the sink—but there was nothing. Everything was exactly as it had always been. He grabbed his phone, clutching it as though it could confirm what his heart was denying. He searched for Jimin’s number, but it wasn’t there. He opened his photo gallery, hoping to see the moments they’d shared. All he found were the same images as before—himself, alone, with no Jimin by his side.
“No… no…” he whispered, despair swelling in his chest.
He remembered everything: the sound of Jimin’s laughter, the feeling of holding him close, their flirtatious conversations, every single moment they’d shared.
It was real. It had to be real.
But the apartment was empty, and Jungkook felt like he was falling into an endless abyss.
Jungkook needed answers. With his heart racing and his body moving on autopilot, he left the apartment. His legs carried him to Jimin’s door, and he froze there, hesitating.
He raised his hand and knocked.
The silence on the other side mocked him. He knocked again, harder this time, hoping to hear Jimin’s voice, hoping he would open the door with that teasing smile and say it was all just a joke.
But no one answered.
Jungkook couldn’t tell how long he stood there, staring at Jimin’s door. He’d knocked several times, but there was still no response. Maybe Jimin was at work, but even knowing that, Jungkook couldn’t bring himself to leave. He stared at the door as if that alone could summon him.
“Please, Jimin,” he murmured softly, resting his forehead against the cold wood. Anger, confusion, and despair swirled inside him like a storm. He wanted to scream, to beg: “Now that you’ve had your revenge, can’t we just forget everything and be together?”
The silence of the hallway only amplified his thoughts. He wanted answers but was afraid of them. Part of him was still trying to make sense of what had happened. Was it real? Was it all just Jimin’s revenge? It was a thought he couldn’t completely dismiss, no matter how absurd it seemed. The memories were too vivid, too real. There was no way Jimin could have planted those sensations, those moments, inside him.
If it was revenge, Jungkook wanted to hear Jimin gloat, to throw it in his face how foolish he’d been. But what if it wasn’t? What if Jimin had lived through it too? That possibility terrified him even more.
He clenched his fists at his sides, his heart heavy with doubt. “Jimin…” he whispered, almost like a prayer, as if saying his name could somehow bring him back.
Eventually, Jungkook gave up. For now. He called in sick at work and spent the day at home, trying to piece things together. The memories of the other reality were too clear, too vivid, as though they were etched into his soul. He remembered every smile, every touch, every look. He remembered holding Jimin in his arms and hearing those words that now echoed inside him:
“What if… in another scenario, we hated each other from the start? If, instead of loving each other, we spent all our time arguing, throwing insults, annoyed by each other’s presence… what would you do?”
He needed Jimin’s answer. Back then, Jimin had said something he’d never forgotten:
“Hmm, I don’t know… I guess we’d have to find a way to change that. One of us would have to take the first step and talk, put the animosity aside.”
A shiver ran down Jungkook’s spine. Maybe that was a sign—a guide for what he needed to do now. Jimin had already shown him the way, even if indirectly.
He spent the rest of the day lost in these thoughts until nightfall brought a sliver of clarity. He put on running clothes and went out for a jog, trying to clear his mind. But no matter how fast or far he ran, the confusion stayed with him, heavy and pulsing in his chest.
When he returned to the building, exhausted, he stepped into the elevator without paying much attention. It wasn’t until the doors closed that he realized—Jimin was there.
Their eyes met, and panic surged through both of them. Jungkook saw the discomfort growing in Jimin’s expression and felt his own heart race in response.
He waited for something—for Jimin to say something sarcastic, to confirm the absurd revenge theory. But Jimin said nothing. He looked as lost as Jungkook felt.
“Jimin,” Jungkook said softly, his voice almost trembling. The other man only shrugged, avoiding his gaze.
Jungkook took a deep breath, Jimin’s words from the other reality echoing in his mind:
“If I took the first step and you gave me a chance… I think you’d realize how wrong you were about me. And in our first conversation, I’d probably fall for you. After that, we’d get closer, laughing about how stupid we’d been. And somewhere along the way, I’d win you over. In the end, we’d end up like this—just as we are now.”
This was his chance to take the first step.
“I’m sorry,” he began, his voice unexpectedly intense. “For the other day. I went too far, and I didn’t mean to. Actually, I’m sorry for everything. For all these years. Maybe if I’d tried to understand you back then, when we were younger, we wouldn’t have spent so much time hating each other.”
He hesitated for a moment, but the memory of Jimin’s words gave him courage. “I’m tired, Jimin. I want to be your friend.”
The elevator doors opened, and they stepped out at the same time, walking side by side. Jungkook feared Jimin would just keep going, not looking back. But to his surprise, Jimin stopped.
He turned to Jungkook, his beautiful eyes filled with something the other couldn’t quite decipher. The silence between them carried the weight of years of resentment and hurt.
“Jungkook…” Jimin began, his voice trembling slightly. “I forgive you. And I want to apologize too. I didn’t do anything to change things between us. I don’t even remember how we started hating each other so much.”
Jungkook felt his chest tighten. He’d been waiting for this moment for what felt like an eternity, a moment that now seemed almost like a dream.
“So… will you give me a chance?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
Jimin smiled—a small, hesitant smile, but genuine. “Yes.”
And in that instant, something shifted. The discomfort was still there, lingering between them, but for the first time, there was something else. Something new, yet familiar. A connection that felt like it belonged to another reality but was now blossoming between them.
As Jimin disappeared into his apartment, Jungkook felt, for the first time, that they were on the right path.
Jungkook watched as Jimin’s apartment door closed, but he couldn’t move. The smile Jimin had given him before disappearing resonated in his chest—sweet, tense, and filled with something that felt like expectation. It was as if they had shared a secret moment, a spark igniting between them even in this reality where hatred had consumed so many years.
Jungkook took a deep breath, pressing his fists against his thighs to anchor the storm raging within him. He needed to do something.
Am I rushing this? Shouldn’t I take it slow, like he said he would with me?
But the thought of waiting—of risking the fragile, precious connection they’d just found—was unbearable. Before he could second-guess himself, Jungkook turned back and strode toward Jimin’s door with determined steps.
He raised his hand to knock.
The door opened before he could make contact, and there Jimin was. His wide eyes sparkled with something unspoken, as though he’d been waiting—as though he’d known Jungkook would come back.
Jungkook felt his breath hitch. Jimin’s face, so close, carried that same subtle glow of expectation he’d noticed earlier, and it made his chest tighten. He couldn’t think. Not with his heart pounding this fiercely.
Without hesitation, Jungkook reached out, cupping Jimin’s face gently in his hands, and kissed him.
At first, Jimin froze, caught in the shock of the moment. Jungkook could taste the sweet hesitation on his lips, but he didn’t pull away. He couldn’t. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Jimin began to soften.
Jungkook kissed him with everything he had, with all the love he had carried from that other reality where they’d been lovers. He held him close, feeling the familiar warmth of Jimin’s body molding perfectly to his. It was as though the universe had conspired to bring them back to the place where they truly belonged.
When they finally broke apart, Jimin exhaled shakily against his lips, his eyes glistening with disbelief.
“Baby… I missed you,” Jimin whispered, his voice like the missing piece of a puzzle, snapping perfectly into place in Jungkook’s heart.
The words hit him like a wave, and he tightened his hold on Jimin as if he feared he might vanish. “Beautiful… it was you?” His voice cracked, filled with hope and trepidation. “It’s been you all along?”
Jimin nodded slowly, his eyes brimming with unshed tears as his delicate fingers clung tightly to Jungkook’s shirt. “I… I fell asleep, and suddenly I woke up there. You were mine, Jungkook. You were everything I wanted. At first, I didn’t believe it—it felt like a dream… but it was so real. And I let it happen. When I told you I loved you for the first time, I forgot this reality. My mind erased the fact that here we…” His voice faltered.
“That here we hated each other,” Jungkook finished for him, his hand tenderly brushing Jimin’s cheek as the other nodded, swallowing hard.
“Yes. I remembered everything we’d built in that reality, and it felt like it was the only one that existed. But then the Jungkook from there started acting differently, and I began dreaming of us hating each other. He started to feel… like you. The version of you that hated me.”
Jungkook nodded, the pieces of their puzzle clicking into place as he completed it with his side of the story:
“And then we fought, and I said I loved you for the first time since ending up there. That’s when everything came back—all the memories we made together.”
Jimin’s breath hitched as he stayed cradled in Jungkook’s arms, the weight of their realization sinking in.
“And then we made love and fell asleep on your living room floor. When I woke up, I was in my room, and you weren’t there. I thought I was going insane… that I’d lost you forever…”
Jungkook didn’t let him finish. He stepped inside, closing the door swiftly behind him, and pulled Jimin back into his arms. He kissed him again, this time with a fiercer urgency, as if needing to confirm that this was real—that Jimin was here, with him.
They stayed that way, connected, as if the universe itself was determined to reunite them. Perhaps it was.
When the kiss finally ended, their foreheads rested together, their breaths mingling in the quiet. Jungkook smiled softly against Jimin’s lips, a mix of disbelief and relief lighting up his face.
“Do you think this was fate?” Jimin asked quietly, his face still tucked into Jungkook’s neck.
“I don’t know,” Jungkook murmured, his voice hoarse. He pulled back just enough to meet Jimin’s eyes. “But I do know one thing—no matter the reality, we’re meant to be together.”
Jimin closed his eyes, a gentle smile gracing his lips. “The universe would never be in balance if we kept hating each other, would it?”
“Definitely not.” Jungkook chuckled softly, feeling the weight of years of animosity finally melt away. He held Jimin tighter, unwilling to let him slip away again. “But now it’s right. Now it’s perfect.”
In that moment, there was no doubt. No matter the reality, the time, or the space, they were destined to be together. And as the universe realigned itself, Jimin and Jungkook lost themselves in one another—not as enemies, but as what they had always been meant to be: each other’s.