#he only rejects it (at least an affectionate touch not. being vaguely threatened) when peters trys to hug him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

perpetually-jungshook · 6 years

Text

RED || 04

Genre: humor, jimin x jungkook; taehyung x jimin; taehyung x jungkook, angst, fluff, humor

Summary: Life is weird. Jungkook works as Jimin’s niche porn photographer and finds it difficult to remember that the he’s only flirting with the camera. Namjoon despises the world of big business but works as a manager for an international corporate company and hates it (cruel irony, he says). Yoongi is just a typical IT guy who has a secret he’s never told anyone, which is totally typical. Hoseok and Seokjin work at a retirement home, from which they one day bring back some random volunteer with fiery red hair who may or may not change everything.

Warnings: language, crude humor, pining, explicit sexual content

Word Count: 11.2k

Links: Storyboard || 01 || Previous || Next

Since tomorrow is Sunday, Jimin doesn’t have to worry about his office job, which means he can stay up late relatively guilt free. Thus he disregards the need to look at a clock, gliding through the surreal after-midnight hours, passing time by scrolling through social media on his phone and idly listening to some TV show about baby animals for background noise.

He’s not sure exactly what happened between Seokjin and Namjoon after they started talking on the phone, but from what he could hear, it sounded like it had gone okay. The older boy had admitted to being irrational and apologized, saying something about “personal issues getting in the way of my judgement and stuff.” Jimin thinks they may have agreed to meet for breakfast tomorrow morning to talk things over, which is a great start. At least, it’s better than running out of a restaurant and coming home to mope about perceived rejection. But that was a few hours ago, just before both Seokjin and Hoseok went to bed.

According to Instagram, one of his high school friends is getting married; and on an unrelated note, piglets have very sensitive snouts.

Jimin can only assume he’d begun to doze at some point because eventually, he’s startled awake by the sound of the door opening. The world that comes back into focus is a bit hazy at first, foggy around the edges with sleep still tugging at his mind, coaxing him to come back with sweet whispered nothings and a gentle hand.

Illuminated by the soft blue light cast over the room by the TV is a vaguely familiar head of fiery red hair. A small smile that leaves Jimin puzzled finds its way onto his own expression.

“Hey.” Jimin’s voice is a little hoarse, deeper than normal.

Taehyung looks up, probably surprised that anyone is still awake. His reply is a whisper, likely trying to be polite to the rest of the household, “Hey. You’re still up?”

Jimin nods, blinking sleepily at his new companion.

“Yeah. Where’ve you been? Out so late,” he giggles quietly.

“I’ve been down at Kook’s. We lost track of time watching anime.”

Scooting over to give Taehyung room to sit if he wants it, Jimin curls up around a pillow, hugging it to his chest. “Sounds fun. So you guys are pretty good friends now?”

“I dunno,” Taehyung replies as he goes over to his duffle bag, fishing out some clothes. “He seems really cool. Just kind of shy.”

“Yeah Kookie’s like that.”

The conversation pauses as Taehyung exits the room, the closing door an indication that he’s probably changing and washing up. Now by himself, Jimin’s eyelids start to feel heavy again and he can only fight the wave-like pull of sleep with a well timed yawn or two. The sound of a faucet turning on momentarily underscores the words of the TV narrator, who is currently describing a sleepy litter of puppies. Gosh darn cute baby animals. They make everything better.

Jimin smiles.

The bathroom door opens and Taehyung walks back into the living room, dirty clothes in a bundle that he sets beside his bag. He’s wearing sweatpants, though any glimpse Jimin might’ve had of them being “hung low on his hips” is unfortunately obscured by a threadbare white T-shirt.

“Taehyung?”

He hums in acknowledgement before taking a seat on the other side of the well loved leather couch.

The pause between calling his name and continuing to speak is just a beat too long, causing tension to flit through the air between the two boys.

“Why do you volunteer at the retirement home?”

It sounds suspiciously casual for the pause that had come just before, but the question “have you decided if you want to fuck yet?” just seems a bit too crass for the situation.

One of Taehyung’s eyebrows rises just a bit, though Jimin is unsure if it’s from shock, curiosity, or neither of those, but it’s definitely not condescending, which is reassuring. Maybe he’s just amused.

“Well,” he starts of quietly, hesitantly. “If you’re looking for a heroic story about me having a heart of gold, I’m sorry to say I’ll disappoint you.”

“Half of my income comes from porn. I really don’t think I’m in a position to judge whatever you’re about to say,” Jimin’s voice is finally starting to return to normal, less rough, now a little amused.

Taehyung takes a deep breath before replying, “I volunteer at the retirement home because my grandma lived there before she passed. We were really close and I guess I just saw how much they needed help.”

If Jimin could stare loudly, he would.

“You realize that’s like, total heart of gold material.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Both boys share a quiet laugh, but Jimin lets his peter out into a soft, “I’m sorry to hear about your grandma though.”

“It’s okay. I miss her a lot, but she lived a good life.” In the dim light of the TV, Jimin can see Taehyung smile wistfully. There’s pain in his expression, but it’s distant, like he’s long come to terms with what happened.

Jimin’s brain is still a tad too much on the “asleep” side of the spectrum to make decent conversation, so he lets the dialogue end at that. It seems like a good conclusion, bittersweet, like much of life. A few minutes pass.

Apparently puppies open their eyes at around two weeks old.

With the subject of Taehyung’s grandmother fading, Jimin’s body is tempted to scoot over and lean his head on Taehyung’s shoulder. The thought makes him feel terribly guilty. Is he really so desperate? Even after his time with Hoseok earlier today? Sure it’s a relatively innocent gesture, but he wouldn’t be doing it to comfort Taehyung, which makes it purely selfish. So he restrains himself, his posture getting slightly stiffer.

It’s when the episode shifts from puppies to kids (the baby goat kind) that Jimin begins to wonder when Taehyung will be going to sleep so he can wallow in awkward shameful semi-silence by himself. And it’s at that point that he realizes he’s literally sitting on Taehyung’s bed.

“Oh my god I’m literally sitting on your bed,” Jimin whisper yells.

All guises of quietness are dropped as Taehyung laughs, but thankfully, his laugh is naturally quiet and deep.

“Did you just realize that?”

“Yeah, I’m really sorry,” Jimin stands up, setting down the pillow and arbitrarily fluffing it. “You’re probably exhausted.”

“I was honestly thinking you were trying to pull something,” Taehyung says, chuckling.

“Pull something?” Jimin pauses, almost tripping on the coffee table as he blindly backs away, intending on going to his room.

“Yeah, like you were trying to see if I’d mention the the possibility of us fucking.”

Jimin’s heart skips a beat, pulse catching on the lump in his throat.

“I, ah, will admit, I thought about it. But some things are more important and it’s super late and you don’t even seem to be that into me so…”

Taehyung stands and in the soft light of the TV, Jimin can see his tongue poke out, briefly wetting his lips, maybe stalling, maybe thinking, maybe neither.

He reaches over and places a warm hand on Jimin’s shoulder, then affectionately ruffles his hair.

“Well I’m glad we got to hang out, even if it was only for a little bit.”

Jimin notices that the other boy doesn’t directly respond to any of his reasons for not bringing up fucking, baited or not.

“Same here.”

Maybe he really isn’t into me, Jimin considers, accompanied by a small pinch in his chest. He gives Taehyung a small nod and walks the remaining few steps to his room, closing the door quietly.

—

Week two PT (Post Taehyung), things seem to be going pretty well. The boy with the fiery red hair is no longer as… threatening as he used to seem. Maybe threatening isn’t the right word, but from what Jungkook has heard, he’s kept his promise and hasn’t tried to fuck Jimin. This is reassuring because it means one, Taehyung (probably) wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t want to sleep with Jimin; and two, Jungkook is starting to think of him as a good friend. And good friends don’t boink each other’s crushes (or, as a recently established rule, steal each other’s already microwaved hot pockets).

It smells like coffee, which is a fairly reasonable observation namely because Jungkook is currently sitting in a coffee shop. His sensitive nose can also pick up hints of tea, but nothing like that godawful poison Taehyung had made about a week ago. Sometimes he still wonders how Seokjin survived. Anyway.

This cafe is one of those places that features a succulent covered wall that doesn’t look completely real or completely fake, leaving customers intrigued but unwilling to touch because it’s color coordinated and shaped into some artsy spirals around the unreasonably cursive cafe name. Jungkook can’t read it, but he’s pretty sure it has something to do with beans. Opposite the plants, the shades have been drawn over the of floor to ceiling windows, filtering the orange tinged evening sunlight into something soft and pleasant to match the dim illumination from the rustic, vintage glass fixtures hung above the high tables surrounded by wooden stools.

Soothing jazz music underscores the sounds of a clacking keyboard, a few conversations, and the loud buzzing of a blender.

Jungkook’s fingers wrap around the warm disposable coffee cup. It’s starting to get colder outside. Not quite winter yet, but he’s glad he can now comfortably wear a hoodie in the middle of the day and maybe not look like a depressed, overworked college student. Not that he doesn’t look like that anyway despite being neither overworked nor a college student.

He inhales deeply, but quietly, shifting around on his stool in a futile attempt to alleviate the stiffness in his lower back and lessen the ache in his butt. Jungkook was the first one to arrive, a little early as usual. And by a little he means an hour. It’s not like he was doing anything productive or interesting on a Thursday night anyway.

So why not go out, even if it means sitting by himself for a while? Distract himself from the fact that he has another shoot with Jimin tomorrow night. He compulsively takes a sip of coffee at the thought. Fuck.

“Jungkook?”

His gaze lifts from the currently upside down inspirational quote “artfully” carved into the tabletop to look for the familiar deep voice. Once again, it’s surprisingly not Namjoon’s.

“Hey,” Jungkook gives Taehyung a small yet genuine smile as he walks over, taking the opposite seat, which leaves the also (but less) unreasonably cursive inspirational quote right side up from his perspective, and the small stage behind him. “You here to see Namjoon?”

“Wait, is he… doing something special?” Taehyung asks, appearing genuinely worried and confused.

“Open mic poetry night?”

“Oh? Is that why you’re here?”

“Is that not why you’re here?”

Both boys stare at each other before sharing a giggle. Taehyung adjusts the faded blue bandana holding up his hair before replying, still amused, “I honestly don’t know what’s going on. Jimin just told me I needed to come. Low key, I was kind of scared he was asking me on a date so poetry night is like a huge relief?”

Jungkook smothers another laugh behind a sip of coffee.

“Well, dates aren’t really Jimin’s M.O. in general, so you don’t have to be afraid of that.”

“I mean, I kind of figured, but I didn’t want to just assume, yknow?”

“True.”

A few moments pass in awkward not-silence, the jazz music still playing, the people still talking, the blender buzzing loudly again.

“So are you super early or did Jimin tell you to come now?”

Taehyung glances at his watch, then replies, “I’m early. What time does the open mic start?”

“About thirty minutes.”

“Okay that’s the time he told me to be here.”

Jungkook feels a little relieved too. It seems that Jimin had just invited him as a friend, though it is a bit strange he hadn’t told Taehyung why. It’s a line of thought that Jungkook forcefully pushes away. He doesn’t have the right to question Jimin’s motives, or to be possessive in any capacity. Besides, Taehyung has proven over and over that he is not interested in Jimin’s advances. So shouldn’t Jungkook, at the very least, trust him?

“I’m gonna go grab something to drink. Save my seat?” Taehyung says with a big, boxy smile.

“No problem.”

Jungkook looks down at the table again, perfectly square and and oddly modern blend of metal and light colored wood.

Another sip of coffee compulsively passes his lips.

Before Taehyung can finish ordering, Namjoon arrives in his beanie, boots, ripped jeans, and three layers of a mismatched mix of a jacket, flannel, and T-shirt. He definitely looks like he belongs in this coffee shop, drinking some fancy hipster beverage Jungkook probably wouldn’t be able to remember or pronounce. In all seriousness though, it’s nice to see his housemate not in a suit and tie.

Namjoon works hard at a job that he hates, so seeing him be himself? It’s refreshing.

He gives Jungkook a dimpled smile and a small wave when they make eye contact, but as usual immediately goes over to secure his place in the lineup, talking to the girl standing next to the small, raised stage set up in the corner of the establishment. It is also an oddly modern blend of metal and light colored wood. Jungkook wonders if it was custom made.

“Looking good,” Jungkook laughs brightly as his older friend walks over.

Namjoon chuckles.

“Thanks. I’m a little nervous.”

“Why?”

Before Namjoon can answer, Taehyung comes back to the table, disposition cheery.

“Hello Namjoon! I hear you’ve got a performance tonight?” Taehyung says, likely not knowing he interrupted. “I hope you don’t mind— Jimin invited me.”

“Course I don’t,” Namjoon replies smoothly, only the typical, genuine easy going good nature present in his smile. “Thanks for coming.”

“What did you get to drink?” Jungkook asks politely, but gives Namjoon a “we’ll finish this later” look.

“Tea.”

“Naturally.” Jungkook laughs and nudges him with his elbow.

Taehyung gasps comically, dramatically placing his hand on his chest.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Jungkook sing-songs.

“Alright you two play nice. I’m gonna go warm up my voice. Practice a bit more,” Namjoon chuckles, ruffling Jungkook’s hair.

Jungkook scrunches his nose. RIP the twenty minutes of trying to actually care about what his hair looked like before he left. He’d parted it and used a little product and everything. But it’s Namjoon, one of his best friends, which helps Jungkook be a little more forgiving.

“If you’re trying to convince me that you don’t already have everything memorized, it’s not working,” Jungkook teases.

“Maybe not practice then,” Namjoon is still smiling, but there’s something almost nervous about his expression, which is an emotion not often seen on him during open mic nights. “Maybe just work up my courage.”

Without further explanation, he gives Taehyung an acknowledging nod and walks away from the table, toward the restroom. Weird. Why would Namjoon need to “work up his courage?” Poetry is his element, the thing he loves.

Just as he’s about to ask Taehyung for a second opinion (because Jungkook is apt to read social situations incorrectly), the other boy’s name is called from the counter. He smiles apologetically before snaking his way through the sparse crowd, leaving Jungkook alone once again with a quick, “Be right back.”

He doesn’t allow himself the illusion of peace in solitude though, and it’s a good thing he doesn’t because almost immediately:

“Jung-Jung-Kookie!”

There’s only one person who calls him that.

Jimin’s familiar face bounces above a head or two, clearly seeking out his friend. Jungkook raises his hand in a halfhearted signal. The weight of shame at the fluttering of his heart and the heating of his cheeks has become normal and Taehyung’s words echo in his mind.

Nothing feels good or healthy about it, but you can’t help it because you love them.

A ghost of a smile makes its way onto his expression as Jimin spots him, mood visibly brightening even from across the room. The coffee cup suddenly feels too hot in his hands, despite the fact that it’s been cooling for well over twenty minutes now.

“Hey Jimin,” he attempts to greet his friend warmly as the older boy weaves his way over to the table, then circles his arms around Jungkook’s neck in a painful but affectionate hug.

Jimin nuzzles into Jungkook’s hair, humming happily, saying, “I’m excited for tomorrow. I already have my costume picked out and everything. You’ll love it.”

“I always like what you wear.”

The disparity between “like” and “love” are exceedingly apparent to Jungkook, but he figures Jimin won’t notice at all. He just doesn’t feel like he can commit to using the latter word right now.

“But I’m sure you’ll find this one particularly fascinating.” Jimin wiggles his eyebrows playfully, formal diction helping a knot of uneasiness tangle in Jungkook’s stomach.

Before he can find a good response, Taehyung comes back and saves him.

“Look who else is early,” the boy with the fiery red hair laughs lightly, but seemingly genuinely. “I didn’t expect you for another twenty minutes or so.”

He takes his old seat, across from Jungkook and now Jimin, who still has his arms wrapped loosely around the younger boy’s neck.

Jungkook can hear the smile in Jimin’s voice, “My dad always used to say fifteen minutes early is on-time and on-time is late. What’d you get?”

He nods at the drink as Taehyung takes a sip.

“Tea,” Jungkook is shocked to find himself answering first, but Taehyung had told him earlier. So it’s not weird, right?

“Nice! I pegged you as a tea person.”

“Considering he tried to kill all of us with his noxious tea fumes…” Jungkook grimaces.

Taehyung sets his cup down, holding it with both hands as he laughs heartily this time, “That tea is perfectly fine! In fact, it helps get toxins out of your body.”

“It still smelled like feet. Rotten, moldy feet.”

“Stop it,” Taehyung says, humorously pushing out his lower lip. “You’ll hurt its feelings.”

The three of them giggle as Jimin drops his arms a little and hooks his chin over Jungkook’s shoulder, the height of the stool not allowing him to rest it on top of Jungkook’s head. Jimin then turns to look at him, his face so close that Jungkook can feel the older boy’s warm, minty breath on his cheek. He must have just brushed his teeth before coming here.

“How do you know what rotten moldy feet smell like anyway?”

“That’s none of your business.”

This earns him a poke to his side, which causes him to squeak, but it effectively allows for a change in subject.

“Well, it seems like the two of you are becoming fast friends,” Jimin says, sounding thoroughly amused. “And you don’t even live together.”

“Yeah Kook’s pretty cool,” Taehyung shrugs, taking another sip of tea. “We have a lot of things in common— or at least a lot of similar opinions. And this is camomile, just so you know. Not moldy feet.”

He turns his nose up with a dramatic huff, but can hardly conceal a grin. He probably isn’t trying that hard.

“Okay, camomile is acceptable.”

“Can I try?” Jimin asks brightly, his arms dropping as he backs away to move around the table and hop up onto a stool next to Taehyung, looking excited, full smile reaching his beautiful eyes, crinkled cutely, almost closed.

Jungkook mourns the loss of body heat, the feeling of Jimin pressed flush against him, chest to back. Somedays, he indulges in the fantasy that they might cuddle like that someday, Jungkook as the smaller spoon despite his larger body. Seokjin once called it an intense “need to feel taken care of,” but Jungkook thinks of it more like… if Jimin was holding him, it would mean he wants to be there, that Jungkook isn’t trapping him. Maybe it’s a mix of both reasons.

“Sure,” Taehyung hesitates, but only for a moment before handing over his disposable cup.

The blender starts up again in the background.

Jimin takes a drink and makes a face, his ridiculously long tongue pushing out from between parted lips.

“Hot,” is all he says.

Taehyung laughs, “Small sips, Jimin. That’s the trick. Oh, Kook?”

Jungkook looks up, having been staring intensely at his coffee cup, now abandoned by his hands on the table, in order to not imagine the things that ridiculously long tongue might do between his legs.

“Y-yeah?” his voice, unfortunately, cracks like he’s a prepubescent teen again. Dark times. Coconut hair, mostly black wardrobe, a little too much eye liner. Okay maybe some things haven’t changed too much. But he definitely wears it better.

“Do you wanna come with me to record my podcast on Saturday?”

It takes a moment or two to process the words.

“Sure! Yeah— I mean, yes. Absolutely,” Jungkook says, heat rising in his cheeks. “But what exactly would I be doing?”

Taehyung hums thoughtfully, “Well, just hanging out. I thought it’d be something fun we could do together. Then get doughnuts or something after.”

“Great,” Jungkook can’t help smiling. “I look forward to it.”

That random conversation comes to a smooth end as Hoseok and Yoongi enter the cafe and walk over, the former cooing when he sees Jimin still caring for his burned tongue. They go to the register to ask for some cold water and probably drinks for themselves too. Yoongi, already holding a cup of coffee from a franchise store, takes a seat next to Jungkook, having pulled over a stool from another table.

“Isn’t that like, against common etiquette? To bring in drinks from other cafes?” Jungkook asks, causing Taehyung to smother a giggle.

Yoongi’s voice, as usual, is a little on the gravely side, “This place’s coffee tastes like shit and you know that.”

“Well if you didn’t just drink it black-”

“I can drink it however the hell I want, thanks.”

To the outsider, Yoongi might seem unwarrantedly cruel or biting, but Jungkook just finds him amusing. He’s grumpy, sure, but all it takes is a simple laugh and nudge of Jungkook’s elbow to cause an angry pink to dust across his cheeks.

“Yes, black. So it can match your soul.”

“That’s an overused joke and it disgusts me.”

“Hey Kook, you’re one to talk,” Taehyung pitches in carefully, though with an easy smile. He’s clearly teasing, but has mentioned before that Yoongi terrifies him, so his hesitance is understood. He gives Jungkook a dramatic once over, smile getting wider. “I mean look at what you’re wearing.”

Jungkook naively looks down.

“Hey, at least I’m wearing grey and black. Yoongi’s wearing all black.”

Yoongi doesn’t need to look down to shoot Jungkook A Look, retorting, “I’m forced to wear button downs and slacks almost every day. Let me and my goddamn casual wardrobe live.”

“Shhhh,” Jungkook reaches over, placing his finger on Yoongi’s lips. He’s pretty sure that the older boy is fighting the intense urge to bite him. “I didn’t say it looked bad.”

He giggles and drops his hands, leaving Yoongi to mutter under his breath and indignantly sip his coffee. He figures the heat from the drink is probably what causes the red in his cheeks to deepen.

Really though, Yoongi doesn’t look bad. He hardly ever does, even on those hard days where he comes home from work half asleep and Jungkook isn’t sure whether the correct description would involve him murdering a man or having been the one murdered. Maybe it’s not a good thing that he wears exhaustion well, or maybe it’s simply a testament to how hard he actually works, despite his claim that all he does is “turn computers off and on again.”

Today Yoongi looks a little less tired though (then again it could just be the coffee). His hair is a bit disheveled, like he’d been running his fingers through it, and he’s drowning in this oversized black sweatshirt that makes him look nothing short of cute though he would definitely be The Murderer if someone said this to his face. The sleeves are so long that they’re scrunched up around his elbows and still almost cover his pale hands, which are still wrapped protectively around his foreign coffee cup. The lower hem of the sweatshirt drops almost to his knees, covering his dark jeans, which lead down to black converse. Sometimes, Jungkook wonders how it would feel to cuddle Yoongi, sit the older boy down in his lap so he can loop his arms around Yoongi’s waist and hook his chin over Yoongi’s shoulder, but Jungkook figures it would be like trying to hug a pissed off, soaking wet cat.

Now done poking fun at Yoongi, the three of them fall into a comfortable non-silence, listening to the jazz music, blender, and murmuring while scrolling through phones. A few minutes later, Hoseok and Jimin return from the counter, the former holding what he claims to be coffee (but is really hot chocolate), and the later holding a plastic cup of water. The five boys make polite conversation until the lights dim and the girl next to the stage announces that open mic poetry night is about to start.

No one mentions the fact that Seokjin isn’t here.

Namjoon is third in the lineup of five. This might make one think that it would be a fairly brief event, considering four of them are regulars, but it is a wrong assumption. The first person is up on the stage for twenty minutes, speaking in overly enunciated rhyming iambic pentameter. Jungkook internally cringes at the fact that he knows what that is, but he makes sure to clap, knowing that despite how cookie-cutter it was, the person probably worked hard to describe those trees and that lake in so, so many extended metaphors.

The second person is thankfully more on the brief end of the spectrum, clocking in at just under five minutes. What it’s about? Jungkook doesn’t know. He lost interest as soon as he saw Yoongi pull out his phone.

Yoongi isn’t usually the type to answer texts right away, so Jungkook couldn’t help being curious when he spotted the “now” time stamp on the message preview. It was Seokjin, but Jungkook had turned away the moment Yoongi unlocked his phone. If Seokjin had wanted him to see it, he would’ve texted the group chat or Jungkook directly.

Now, Namjoon walks up onto the stage amidst light applause from those patrons paying attention. It’s immediately apparent that he’s lacking the stage presence he usually carries, the confidence that allows him to stride up onto the stage without so much as a quiver of his knees. This time, despite his muscular shoulders, long legs, and broad chest, he looks… small.

Namjoon clears his throat as he gets to the microphone, then holds up a sheet of paper. Sure the other speakers consistently use notes, but Namjoon has never used them when he’s in front of an audience. It raises another red flag in Jungkook’s mind.

“I, um…”

The speakers screech with a bit of feedback, causing him to flinch away from the microphone slightly. A small crease forms between his eyebrows, reading as distress. Memories suddenly bubble to the front of Jungkook’s mind, small snippets, fragments, pieces of a puzzle he probably won’t ever see completely.

Relative quietness in the group chat. Less time with everyone spent at one apartment or the other. A morning where Namjoon left without eating breakfast and came back three hours later before locking himself in his room for the rest of that Sunday.

Namjoon’s voice sounds small too, still deep and smooth, but afraid.

“I wrote this poem just a few days ago after having a… conversation with a friend. It doesn’t have a title yet, but I’ve been thinking of calling it A Study in Gray.”

He pauses for a moment, as if collecting his thoughts. Then begins.

I look at you, sitting across from me,

only a table’s width away.

If I reach out, I would be able to touch you.

Just a brush of my fingers and I could

feel the warmth that’s risen onto your cheek.

If I reach out, I’d be able to put my hand on your shoulder.

A comforting gesture to say I’m here,

you’re not alone.

If I reach out, I might be able to bridge the gap

that I unknowingly created when I told you I’m

not sure what I feel.

These were the things I was sure of:

You appeared excited when we met, nervous.

It made me excited yet nervous too.

You ordered a coffee, which you don’t usually drink

and put a little too much sugar in.

You’ve always said it upsets your stomach.

Why do I know this?

Why do I know that you prefer tea?

I don’t know what it means.

I have entered an area of gray,

where surety has faded into the unsure.

I am uncomfortable here,

which is something of which I’m entirely sure.

My life consists of blacks and whites,

not rights and wrongs but

decisions that turn people into numbers

and emotions into letters on a page.

Equating what happened to a grayscale

is damning both you and me to the world of colors,

though you are anything but gray to me.

You are bright red, passionate;

vibrant orange, excited;

deep blue, stable;

rich violet, imaginative;

and soft pink, comforting.

You are not a grayscale,

but I am— and you help give my life color.

Jungkook’s focus momentarily drifts to Jimin. His features look soft in the dim lighting of the cafe, a small, proud, yet concerned smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he watches their friend speak, slowly gaining a passionate tone, but still lacking the usual confidence. Jungkook’s attention then slowly slides over one seat, now landing on Taehyung. He wears a focused expression, lips pursed, eyebrows drawn together. Jungkook can only see half of his face due to the angle, but the way the lighting plays off of his fiery red hair and tan skin is interesting. His photographer’s eye wants to capture the moment, but he can’t—

Actually, yes he can. Taehyung gave him permission.

He doesn’t have his camera, which is unfortunate, because he’d like to have this moment saved in high resolution, but his phone will work just fine. Jungkook snaps a quick few photos before he blushes and realizes that he should probably take a couple of Namjoon too. They aren’t as coordinated as he’d like them to be, but that’s the thing about candid shots. Isn’t it.

A sharp nudge to his side makes Jungkook wince and almost drop the device. He turns to look at Yoongi, who’s also holding up his phone but is recording instead. Jungkook must have gotten in the way, blocked the view or something. He mouths an apology before tuning back into the poem.

There is only a table’s width between us.

If I reach out, I’d be able to put my hand on your shoulder.

A comforting gesture to say I’m here,

you’re not alone.

If I reach out, I might be able to bridge the gap

that I unknowingly created when I told you I’m

not sure what I feel.

If I reach out… But I don’t.

Because I’m afraid.

Because I’m confused.

And by the time I realize that I

need to

reach out, it’s too late.

I find a wall between us, one of glass.

It allows me to see the color, but not touch it.

And the worst part is,

the wall that separates us…

I don’t know if I’m the one who put it there.

It’s definitely different than Namjoon’s usual ranting about capitalism, sexism, and racism. Jungkook can almost positively say the content change is what had him so nervous, and he can’t exactly blame Namjoon. It was a moment of emotional vulnerability instead of the raw passion he usually displays while writing, then reading it aloud. There was a lot of figurative language, but Jungkook definitely has more pieces to the puzzle now. Seokjin must have confessed that morning at breakfast.

Four of the five boys around the table clap enthusiastically, wanting to be supportive of their friend and probably being embarrassingly loud amidst the polite applause from the rest of the cafe. One set of hands is missing though, this much Jungkook can tell because he’s sitting right next to it.

Yoongi’s thumb hovers above his phone screen for a moment more before he hits the “stop recording” button, then pockets the device. He gets a couple claps in before the next person walks up on stage.

Namjoon practically bounces over to his friends with a bright but nervous smile. He glances at the five boys, scanning their faces. His smile falters.

“Did- did you guys like it?”

There’s still the low murmuring of quiet conversations and mixing drinks in the cafe, background noise that makes talking during the performance a few steps shy of impolite.

“Namjoon, that was great!” Hoseok answers immediately, excitedly, probably a little too loud but the sentiment is appreciated.

“I agree, it was awesome,” Jimin adds with a nod.

Yoongi hums, his voice a little pouty as he thinks aloud, “Could do with a little less repetition, but it was good.”

Coming from Yoongi, that’s definitely a compliment.

Jungkook simply reaches out and puts a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder, giving it a proud, affectionate pat. Taehyung even gives a quiet comment of approval, though looks a bit shy about speaking up.

It does not go unnoticed that while Namjoon glows under the kind words of his friends, he does keep glancing toward the door. Jungkook can’t help but wonder whether he’s disappointed or relieved that Seokjin didn’t show up.

—

Jungkook hums quietly to himself as he sets up his camera, an idle distraction that does little to settle his nerves and instead makes him feel somewhat nauseous. The alternative is feeling very nauseous as he waits in anxious anticipation to see why Jimin’s costume will be “particularly fascinating.”

The ensuite bathroom door opens and Jungkook suddenly thinks there’s a high chance he might be a masochist.

The background image Jimin had requested should’ve given him a hint. It should have, but either Jungkook didn’t want to see it, or he’s just really dense. The edit Jungkook had made was of the interior of an ice castle, and the theme reflects perfectly on Jimin— in the way he’s done his makeup, in the way he’s dressed (or rather, undressed), and the way he’s carrying himself.

A delicate, thin crown sits atop his head, matt silver with a tasteful amount of (plastic) diamonds accentuating the leaf-like design in the metal (which actually might be plastic too). He’s wearing another cape, though this one is noticeably thinner and shimmery silver. Where does he keep getting these? Is there an outlet store for capes? Capes R Us? Jungkook wants to laugh at the thought, but he can only swallow thickly because this time, Jimin isn’t completely naked underneath that cape.

His eyes, made sharper by the makeup, narrow as he smirks, “You like it?”

He’s wearing a body harness, dark leather straps crisscrossing beautifully along his chest, abdomen, and thighs, all in stark contrast with his skin, the cream couch, the silver cape and crown, and the icy blue that will be in the background. It makes him look more feminine than usual, accentuating the generous curve of his hips before spiderwebbing up into a choker, sitting at the base of his neck. It leaves his chest and crotch on full display.

Jungkook has to fight the carnal urge to pull at the straps, yank Jimin forward into a searing kiss. He squeezes his hand into a fist and thinks of taxes and essays.

“I don’t think I should answer that question,” Jungkook clears his throat and goes back to setting up his camera. “But it objectively looks nice.”

“You’re seriously no fun,” Jimin pouts. “I get to see one reaction when we do these shoots and that’s yours. C’mon Kookie, I dressed up so pretty…”

Jungkook pauses, his finger poised on the power button, but he doesn’t look over. Not yet. He’d gone to the gym this morning, just to try it out again before his membership expired. He’d felt good about it, like maybe he was getting back on track.

And yet here he is, struggling to keep a blush off of his cheeks, to keep his goddamn dick in his pants. It’s frustrating, not two steps forward one step back, but like no matter how hard Jungkook tries to step, his feelings keeps restraining him bodily, not allowing a single inch of progression.

With a deep breath, his hands leave the camera and he turns to face Jimin with a small smile, crossing his arms in subconscious defensiveness, maybe hoping to spare himself the pain, “Okay, well what can I say that’ll make you happy?”

“That takes all the fun out of it.”

“Oh stop,” Jungkook laughs lightly, hating himself for feeling like a slut as he caves and walks over, placing his hands on Jimin’s shoulders and keeping his eyes above the waistline. “You look great. Objectively and subjectively. I know you worked really hard for this.”

Jimin’s lips, previously downturned in disappointment, quirk up, his expression vulnerably hopeful as he asks, “Really?”

“Are you asking me to repeat the cheesy as fuck thing I just said?”

“Maybe.”

“If you weren’t pretty much butt naked right now I would smack you.”

“Smack me… where?”

“No, I’m not going to spank you.”

Jimin giggles, wiggling his hips humorously, causing his still flaccid dick to flop around, “But Kookie…”

Jungkook scrunches his nose, “Don’t swing that thing around near me.”

“What? You don’t like it?” He giggles harder, rolling his hips enthusiastically to make his dick bounce, “But you stare at it all the time.”

The younger boy backs away a step, fighting a strange urge to laugh hysterically.

“You can’t prove anything.”

Jimin matches his step and closes the distance again, now rolling his whole body sensuously. It would be… really fucking hot if his dick wasn’t soft. This one detail makes the situation ridiculous and hilarious. Jungkook takes a few more steps back, now laughing openly. His legs bump ungracefully into the bed and he’s forced to half stumble, half crawl over it in a desperate attempt to escape with his sanity at least partially intact.

“Jungkookie! Come give me a hug!”

“Make me.”

“I’m trying!”

Smiling deviously, Jimin catches Jungkook’s ankle, dragging him back onto the bed as he tries to dive off of the other side.

“How are you so small but so strong?”

Jimin is suddenly straddling the backs of his calves and his hand comes down on Jungkook’s ass, more sound than sting through the fabric of his jeans, but he squeaks in surprise anyway, freezing as he realizes what might be touching the back of his thigh. Something brushes against him as Jimin moves again, distributing his weight strategically.

“Is this what you want, Kookie?” Jimin teases, his hands now on Jungkook’s thighs to stabilize himself, not necessarily doing anything naughty. “Is this what you imagine me doing to you when you look at my photos?”

Jungkook’s first response is a petulant whine, muffled into the blankets, followed by, “I don’t jerk off to them.”

“Oh of course you don’t,” Jimin coos, giggling again as his fingers play with the bottom hem of Jungkook’s shirt, pushing it up just high enough so that the cold tips press against the skin of his lower back. He shivers. “Then in your fantasies, do you top or bottom?”

Jungkook’s cheeks must be scarlet by now and he’s trying very hard to ignore the fact that there’s a high probability he’s got a goddamn boner.

“I…”

“C’mon Kookie, I’m curious. Tell me and I’ll get off of you.”

Jungkook lets out another whine of distress as Jimin wiggles on top of him and yeah, that’s definitely a flaccid weenie touching his thigh. In any other situation, this would be pretty great. Jimin in a pretty body harness behind him, otherwise naked, asking whether he’s a top or bottom. But in this situation? Not good. Hella not good. Like a whole metric hella, worth approximately two metric shit tons. More importantly though, why would Jimin want to know this?

He’s never shown more than a teasing, but good natured shallow interest in Jungkook’s obvious attraction to him. What changed? Or has anything changed at all? He fights down the surge of hope. Even if Jimin finally decided to reciprocate feelings, this isn’t how Jungkook would want things to happen. Are rose petals and a candle lit dinner cheesy? Yes, but that’s the kind of boy Jungkook is. So he hesitates, unsure where this is going, what Jimin is thinking.

Jungkook struggles again, trying to get free without having to answer, but it only makes things worse. Much, much worse.

Jimin’s weight shifts quickly as he pins the younger boy down beneath him, chest now flush against Jungkook’s back and oh god the flaccid weenie is now definitely touching his butt (the less he thinks about it as “Jimin’s dick,” quite a serious topic, the better).

“Just tell me pleeeease?”

At this point, anything is better than this situation, Jimin on top of him, wiggling again, material of the cape draped over both of them. It’s starting to get too warm. Jungkook’s brain and willpower are losing traction as tension builds in his body, a mixture of panic, guilty arousal, and physical discomfort. For some reason, it’s Jimin’s fingers withdrawing from under his shirt that finally causes him to snap.

“You top.”

Everything stops abruptly except for the building heat beneath the cape. Jimin is no longer moving and his giggles fade away. For a moment, there is nothing but the sound of their breathing and the faint voices of the TV on the other side of the wall in the living room.

And then Jimin asks, voice unreadably soft, quiet, “I… top?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook says with equal quietness and softness, though he thinks it’s due to the fear of being judged.

“Huh,” he huffs, sounding surprised above anything else. “Well that’s interesting.”

“Interesting?” Jungkook says, a little panicked as Jimin scoots off of him, lying tummy down on the bed beside him. The cape continues to cover both of their bodies, which is probably a good thing. Though with the older boy’s body heat gone, the warmth is a lot more bearable.

Jimin shrugs, the action muffled by the abundant silver cloth around his shoulders.

“Yeah. Most guys I ask want to fuck me— yknow, want to do the fucking.” His voice sounds small as he continues, “So I guess I just didn’t expect that answer.”

Jungkook wonders if Jimin prefers to top or bottom. He’s never heard the older boy explicitly express his preference, probably for the better since it would’ve had to come up in casual conversation. That doesn’t mean Jimin doesn’t have one though, and Jungkook also inevitably wonders whether he lets himself indulge in that preference, or simply allows the other person to choose. He can’t voice any of this though, of course not. It’s not his place. He loves Jimin, but— no.

He loves Jimin, and thus he shouldn’t ask. It’s too personal, might make things awkward because that’s what Jungkook does. He makes everything uncomfortable.

So naturally he goes with the safest option: humor.

“Well you’re the one who climbed on top of me and suggested it in the first place,” Jungkook laughs, but it’s breathy, a little strained.

Jimin gives him a small smile, “Okay true. I just… you didn’t seem like the type that’s all. Considering how much you work out and stuff.”

Work out, present tense. As if he hadn’t just picked it up again today. It’s weird to think that Taehyung knew more about Jungkook’s more recent habits than Jimin does.

“We’re generalizing then?” Jungkook smirks, feeling more comfortable now that he’s started to recover from his near fatal encounter with the unexpected weenie and Jimin has put a bit of physical distance between them. It also helps that they’re teasing again, meaning Jungkook feels less like he’s under a spotlight.

“No! I just… yes,” Jimin pouts, but it’s cute. “I’m sorry Kookie. I of all people should know not to assume things like that.”

“It’s alright,” Jungkook, a slave to his emotions, reaches out and pokes Jimin’s nose, not sure where else he might be able to touch without ruining makeup or hair or feeling like a pervert. “I’ll forgive you one day.”

Jungkook giggles with humorous, purposeful obnoxiousness. It causes Jimin to smile again.

“RIP Jimin,” he says, speaking in third person.

“RIP Jimin,” Jungkook agrees softly.

They lie there for a minute or two, searching each others’ expressions. Or it’s maybe just a few seconds. It’s hard to tell, but eventually, Jungkook takes a deep breath, his voice quiet as if he’s disturbing something more than relative silence, “We should probably get some work done, right?”

The older boy nods and slowly pushes himself up, the cape cascading around him gracefully in some places, hugging him sensuously in others. Jungkook can’t help but notice that his companion’s dick is half hard now, but thankfully, the younger boy no longer has his own half chub to hide. So much for that hallmark romcom scene.

The rest of the shoot is relatively uneventful, considering what happened before it started.

After months of practice, Jungkook has finally managed to perfect (mostly) the art of not (often) looking down at Jimin’s dick, which is supposed to be hard when photos are taken, as per instructions.

So yeah, he totally masturbated as Jungkook set up the lights. It took a lot of humming to pretend he didn’t hear Jimin’s hand, his shaky breathing, and soft sighs. Sometimes he wonders what Jimin thinks about when he touches himself. Certainly not Jungkook, but it’s definitely an intriguing line of thought.

Jungkook also wonders whether Jimin practices his expressions in the mirror between shoots because fuck he just radiates the perfect amount of coldness while dripping with sensuality. It’s a weird contrast, seeing Jimin in a body harness, implicative of binding, and wanting the older boy to fuck him senseless while draped over the arm of the couch.

Taxes and essays. Essays and taxes.

Thus ice prince Jimin is brought out of the imagination and into physical being, captured in photographs with sultry stares, no smiles, and the prettiest dick Jungkook has ever seen (or tried not to see because gosh darn it he still has dregs of willpower).

When Jungkook says they’re done, Jimin stretches out and gives him a small smile.

“Thanks Kookie,” he stands and with a much different demeanor than earlier, wraps the cape fully around himself as if wanting to hide his body. “I’m gonna go shower off.”

“No problem,” he says, returning the small smile. “Want me to wait for you or…?”

It’s still relatively early in the night. He figures Jimin might want to get food.

If Jungkook didn’t know better, he’d think Jimin’s cheeks dust pink, but it must be a play of the light.

“Ah, okay. If you want to. I mean you have to pack up anyway.”

Jungkook nods. They stand there awkwardly for a few seconds before Jimin jabs his thumb over his shoulder, continuing, “Alright, I’m gonna go do my thing.”

He doesn’t wait for a response before walking with quiet steps into the bathroom.

For some reason, sympathy is the first word that comes to Jungkook’s mind. He cleans up the shoot methodically, but avoids the couch. That’s Jimin’s responsibility namely because… well, ass and balls, to put it plainly. It’s just a silent agreement they’ve had since the beginning. The sound of the shower is consistent in the background.

When he finishes, Jungkook sits down on the very edge of Jimin’s bed, trying to relax. He’ll leave his equipment in here for safekeeping. Maybe he’ll suggest eating in, heat up some leftovers because honestly he’s kind of tired.

But then Jungkook perks up at the sound of a familiar voice.

It’s muffled through the wall, distorted slightly by the TV and the shower, yet Jungkook can still tell it’s Yoongi and if Yoongi is here, something exciting is about to happen. He doesn’t go out after work without good cause and he definitely doesn’t come upstairs unless invited (unlike Jimin and Hoseok, who love to pop up in the other apartment without warning).

Jungkook gets up to walk to the door because those extra couple steps will definitely with all certainty absolutely improve his hearing. Yoongi’s talking to Taehyung and it makes Jungkook happy to know he can identify both voices immediately now. What they’re saying, he has no clue but the boy with the fiery red hair laughs, which is reassuring.

His ear presses to the door.

“… something to show him.”

“No, I haven’t seen him yet. He might still be working.”

“Oh okay. Mind if I hang out here?”

“Take a seat.”

“What are we listening to?” Jimin’s whispered voice, so close to his ear, makes Jungkook startle, which causes him to jump back, accidentally elbowing Jimin in the stomach and stepping on his foot. “Kook what the fuck?”

“I’m sorry! You scared me,” Jungkook says, hands ghosting over Jimin to make sure he’s alright. “But I promise I didn’t meant to.”

The older boy is now in sweatpants and a much too large threadbare T-shirt that slips over one of his shoulders. His hair is damp, though towel dried so it doesn’t drip or stick to his forehead. It’s probably still a little tacky from product, but it’s natural again and he’s barefaced, features softer without the makeup. This is obviously a more domestic look. Jungkook prefers this over body harness ice prince Jimin.

“Really?” Jimin laughs breathily, holding his stomach and looking up at Jungkook like an injured puppy. “No, Kookie, I thought you tried to kill me on purpose.”

It takes a few seconds for the sarcasm to register, at which point Jungkook quiets the ensuing stream of apologies and scrunches his nose in a pout.

“Aw don’t be like that,” Jimin says. “I’m the one who almost died.”

Jungkook continues to pout dramatically, now leaning against the door with his nose to the wood. Jimin coos, gently trying to pry the younger boy away from the wooden barrier, hands on his shoulders.

“Kookie…”

He simply (fake) sniffles.

“C’mon you love me,” Jimin is giggling, still weakly tugging on him. “Let’s hug and make up.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Fine.”

Jimin squeals quietly as Jungkook allows him to pull his larger body away from the door and envelop him in a tight hug. It’s everything Jungkook wishes he could have on a regular basis. Soft, affectionate, strong. As Jungkook turns to accommodate Jimin and wrap his arms around the older boy, he can’t help thinking that Jimin fits perfectly in his arms, chin hooking over Jungkook’s shoulder, their bodies melding together to fill the cracks.

But it’s the wrong kind of perfect. Two things that aren’t meant to fit, like a coin in a ring, baby carrots in a battery slot, or a tennis ball inside of a drainage pipe. He doesn’t know what to make of it.

—

Jimin gives Jungkook a playful squeeze, smothering giggles into the younger boy’s chest as his body naturally lets out a huff with the sudden added pressure. It’s cute. Such a big boy, but so quiet and gentle.

He won’t lie, it’s nice hugging Jungkook. He represents an area of safety to Jimin, the cause of no pain except the slow boiling guilt inside him, but that’s omnipresent anyway. Jungkook wouldn’t hurt him, won’t let anyone else hurt him either. He’s a source of comfort and warmth, two things Jimin doesn’t often get to experience without giving something of himself away.

“So you never answered my question,” Jimin says, pulling back to look up at him without the danger of them being close enough to kiss. “What were you listening to?”

“Nothing too interesting. Yoongi’s here.”

“He is?”

“Yeah. Wanna get something to eat?”

Jimin nods and lets go, slowly taking a step back. He can still feel the ghost of the dull ache and sharp bite of the leather on his skin, especially around his groin. It’s hard to find full body harnesses for men that are pretty. So yeah, sometimes he has to resort to strangely fitting female attire, which often leaves his genitalia in uncomfortable situations. But that will all fade by tomorrow evening. For now, he’ll enjoy the feeling of a job well done.

They exit the room with polite greetings to Taehyung and Yoongi before Jimin leads the way to the kitchen where they heat up leftovers. He slides the bowls across the island countertop, placing one in front of Jungkook and the other in front of the empty seat beside him.

As Jimin is getting the spoons, Hoseok and Seokjin walk into the apartment, the former chattering on as usual about Ms. Piper, who apparently sent back her food four times today, refusing to eat until— and pardon Jimin for not listening intently— something about a rice dish.

He takes a seat next to Jungkook, handing the younger boy a spoon so they can both start eating.

In his peripherals, Jimin can see Yoongi stand up and approach Seokjin, interrupting the conversation about Ms. Piper. They speak quietly until Yoongi pulls out his phone, handing it to the older boy. Seokjin looks perplexed for a moment before nodding, then walking over to the small dining table behind Jimin, meaning he can no longer see.

He thus loses interest quickly, especially as Hoseok strides over and puts his arms around both his and Jungkook’s shoulders.

“I see you’ve finished with the shoot already huh?”

“Yeah,” Jimin confirms with a smile. “Jungkookie made it nice and easy.”

“That’s great! Our resident photographer is so talented,” Hoseok presses a loud smooch to said photographer’s cheek. “But now that you guys are free, we should totally play a game.”

“That depends on what type of game,” Jimin turns to give him a suggestive smile. “After what happened last time-”

“Okay that wasn’t my fault.”

“Namjoon still had to get stitches,” Jungkook pauses eating for a moment to add helpfully.

Hoseok pouts, backing up to cross his arms over his chest, “Well he should’ve been more careful with the Monopoly pieces.”

“So what game?” Jimin presses with a light laugh.

“How about… truth or dare?”

Jungkook huffs, “Can’t you pick anything less cliched?”

“Well if someone hadn’t pissed Jin off we could still play hide and seek.”

A memory flashes through Jimin’s mind. A park at midnight, dappled with the dim white glow of streetlights and washed in soft silver by the crescent moon. A pond, inky black with blurry edges that gently lap at the paths around it. Worn wooden benches, massive aged trees. Hoseok decked out in glow sticks; Yoongi sitting in a playground plastic tube; Jungkook helping Jimin into a tree; a splash— Namjoon and Seokjin soaking wet.

He smiles.

“Maybe we should try hide and seek again,” Jimin wiggles happily in his seat, bringing the bowl into his lap so he can continue eating as he speaks to Hoseok. “But this time no going near the pond.”

“Yeah okay good idea, but I’m not going to be It first this time,” Hoseok negotiates, hands now on his hips.

“Not It,” Jungkook declares. He finishes his last bite of food before getting up and walking over to the sink.

Jimin perks up, asking, “So you’re gonna play then?”

“I guess.”

“Don’t be so nonchalant, Kook, we all know you’re excited to squeeze into some small space with Jimin,” Hoseok teases.

“No, not doing that again,” Jungkook says over the sound of water hitting the bowl as he rinses it. “He giggles too much.”

“Guilty,” Jimin raises his fork in acknowledgement.

“And if I’m playing, I’m playing to win.”

“Perfect! I’ll go indoctrinate Yoongi and Taehyung.”

“You know we’re like right here? We can hear what you’re saying?” Yoongi says from his seat on the couch.

Hoseok shrugs, “Good, then I don’t have to explain anything.”

“Shameless,” Yoongi huffs, then looks down at his phone again.

“So we’re talking about something like manhunt?” Taehyung’s head tilts.

“What?” both Hoseok and Jimin ask.

“Manhunt it’s… hide and seek. Outside.”

They all stare at each other for a few seconds before Hoseok clears his throat, “Oh, okay yeah. Well, not It.”

Seokjin elects to stay home and there’s no response from Namjoon, so twenty minutes later, Jimin, Jungkook, Hoseok, Taehyung, and Yoongi get out of the car and hop up onto the curb, the latter covered in glow sticks almost to a comical degree, a physical manifestation of the burden that comes with being dubbed “It.”

It’s starting to get cold out at night, which leaves all of them in hoodies or sweatshirts. Jimin thinks it smells like rain, but Hoseok quickly assures him that it wasn’t in the forecast. The park is instead covered in a thick blanket of fog, weighing down heavily on Jimin’s lungs, his visibility disintegrating into a hazy white at about three or four meters. He can’t even see the playground equipment he knows is in the middle of the massive park. This is going to be an interesting game.

“Everyone’s got their phone on, right?” Hoseok asks, checking his own. “Reception okay?”

“I didn’t picture you as the safety buff,” Taehyung teases.

Hoseok snorts, obviously amused, “Well Jin isn’t here to nag us, so someone has to do it.”

As the two of them exchange playful retorts, Jimin pulls out his phone and finds, to his dismay, that he’s only got ten percent left.

“I’m gonna need a hiding buddy,” he inserts quietly, feeling a little guilty. He should’ve at least grabbed a charger or something.

“And it’s not going to be me,” Hoseok puts his hands up in mock surrender as they start walking toward a massive tree that’s marked the starting point for the four games of hide and seek they’ve played here.

Jimin turns to look at Jungkook with a pleading smile, but he just shakes his head. The older boy feels slightly hurt, but he can’t blame Jungkook. Jimin does giggle a lot.

“You can hide with me.”

The offer catches Jimin by surprise and he turns to look at Taehyung, asking with hesitant hopefulness, “Really?”

“Of course. I mean, I’m the only one left anyway,” Taehyung winks, then laughs brightly, voice deep and smooth. “I always like having a partner anyway. Makes things more fun.”

With their past, Jimin hadn’t expected him to offer, but he’s definitely grateful and won’t turn it down.

“Okay cool. Thanks.”

“Great, now that you two are done being sappy, rules?” Yoongi crosses his arms, looking like a disgruntled human incarnation of a yard that was vomited on by too much Christmas cheer, just sans the fluorescent reindeer, candy cane wielding penguins, and uncanny valley Santa Claus.

“Don’t leave the park, don’t go near the pond, and don’t shout for help unless you need it,” Hoseok states effortlessly, as if he’s thought of this extensively.

“Sounds good to me.”

“Alright Yoongi, how long?”

“Forever.”

“Fuck you, you just don’t want to look for us.”

“Caught me red handed.”

“One minute,” Hoseok supplies, then points in a grand, sweeping motion. “Face the tree.”

The oldest boy does as asked, putting his arm up and resting his face in the crook of his elbow. He sounds bored as he starts counting, “One… two… three…”

Hoseok screams and takes off running into the mist, back in the direction of the car. Jimin thinks making noise is not the best idea when you’re trying to be sneaky, but whatever floats his boat. Jungkook jogs away in the opposite direction, strangely quiet for a boy of his size, his footfalls quiet crunches on the wet grass. He might be heading toward the area of dense foliage where he tried to climb and hide in a tree last time.

Jimin turns to look at Taehyung, arching an eyebrow. The other boy shrugs, so Jimin leads the way to the playground. Their pace is quick, but not frantic, sand sticking to shoes as they make their way to the multilayered structure of painted metal and molded plastic. With the fog, it almost looks like a castle in the clouds. They take the stairs up onto the equipment, the bridge squeaking in protest under their weight, causing Jimin to laugh. Taehyung playfully shushes him before they attempt to fit into one of a few tunnels.

Jimin manages to crawl through and climbs another platform to sit in a small tower-like hut at the top of an enclosed slide. There are small slits that allow him to see out, but it’s too dark to see in at night. The perfect place to hide. Besides, if Yoongi gets close, he can just slip into the slide and make sure he’s too big to go all the way down.

Taehyung, on the other hand, decides to stay in the tunnel. He’s on his stomach, back and shoulders dipping just beneath the line of opaque plastic windows. Even if both of them can’t fit into Jimin’s spot, he’s a little disgruntled that Taehyung is so visible. What if he gives away their spot? He takes a moment to remind himself that it’s just a game.

The two boys make eye contact and Taehyung smiles, causing Jimin to unexplainably giggle again. Maybe Taehyung won’t be the one giving away their position. To prevent himself from making any more noise, Jimin turns slightly to look out onto the expanse of fog covered grass. In the distance, he can still hear Yoongi counting, but the excessive water in the air distorts the sound, making it impossible to tell what number he’s on.

When the counting stops, the world becomes eerily silent. All Jimin can hear is the shaky sound of his own forcibly quieted breathing, trapped by his plastic surroundings. Eventually, Jimin spots what looks like a diluted Christmas tree walking around, colors muffled. He has to smother another giggle.

Man, no wonder Jungkook didn’t want to hide together.

“Jimin, do you see him?” Taehyung’s whispered voice sounds like a shout in such a heavy quietness.

“Yeah. He’s not close.”

Maybe minutes pass. Maybe seconds. Taehyung takes out his phone.

“Turn it off,” Jimin whispers sharply, causing Taehyung to drop the device. It clatters loudly against the bottom of the tube, causing both boys to wince and smother surprised laughter into their hands.

The blurry Christmas tree gets closer, which silences them effectively, especially as Yoongi walks out of the mist like something out of a goddamn horror movie… if the monster was covered in a ridiculous amount of glow sticks.

Jimin stills his whole body in anticipation, which naturally means he suddenly needs to pee. Will Taehyung and his terrible hiding spot get them found? Will Jimin giggle at an inopportune time? Will Yoongi zero in on the sound of a phone clattering against—?

He almost jumps out of his skin when Yoongi pauses practically right beneath the slide tower and says, “Found you.”

The only thing that stops him from huffing out a long list of expletives is a curse that beats him to it.

“Fuck.”

“Watch your language,” Yoongi chides.

It’s Jungkook’s light laugh that follows, causing Jimin and Taehyung to exchange a surprised glance. When had he come to the playground equipment?

“What gave me away?” Jungkook asks, amusement plain in his voice.

“Don’t be stupid,” Yoongi huffs and Jimin can only watch as he crawls underneath the structure, into one of the plastic tubes. Jungkook must be sitting inside. “I’ll always find you.”

“I think that was the gayest thing I’ve heard today. And I talked to Jin earlier.”

Jungkook laughs again, a little awkward this time, but Yoongi doesn’t respond.

The younger boy continues, “Did you find anyone else yet?”

“Hobi thinks I don’t know he’s in the car.”

“Isn’t that technically cheating? Since we’re supposed to stay in the park?”

“Tell him that.”

Jimin and Taehyung are staring intensely at each other, the latter’s phone still sitting on the bottom of the tube in which he’s lying, likely not picked up in fear of it making too much noise. Jimin’s heartbeat is pounding in his pulse points, a frantic “what the actual fuck” smile on his face. This has to be like something out of a movie.

“What about Jimin and Taehyung?”

“No idea.”

“So you just made a beeline for me?”

“Yes. Now sell out your friends.”

Suddenly, there’s a confusingly excessive amount of clattering, the sound of items hitting plastic, similar to when Taehyung dropped his phone. It takes a moment for Jimin to realize that it’s all of the glow sticks.

“Hey, you can’t just-”

Jungkook cuts Yoongi off with a laugh, followed by the sound of another short scuffle, more glow sticks colliding with the plastic tube.

“Get off.”

“Make me.”

Jungkook must be on top, pinning Yoongi down. He sounds like he’s having a great time. Yoongi? Not so much. But there’s also fondness hidden in his dry command, an emotion that takes years of knowing Yoongi to find.

“You little shit.”

There’s silence for a few seconds, then the patter of light rain, fading in from a few drops and plateauing at a quiet steady staccato rhythm. It makes the next part harder to hear.

“What’re you…?” Jungkook’s question trails off, seemingly unsure.

“Oblivious brat.”

Yoongi’s voice sounds soft, yet pained. The dozens of thuds that follow precede the older boy crawling out of the tube and back into Jimin’s line of sight. His face looks pink, or maybe that’s just the excessive amount of glow sticks.

“Where are you going?” Jungkook crawls out after him.

“Back to the car.”

“Why?”

“It’s fucking raining?”

“Wait, I think we should talk about it.”

Talk about what? Jimin watches as they leave the playground area, walking on the grass again, Jungkook jogging to catch up to Yoongi’s fast pace.

“Later.”

The rest of the conversation is lost in the rain and fog. Confused, Jimin turns to look at Taehyung, who points to his lips.

“What” Jimin mouths, still clueless.

“Kiss,” is the word Taehyung silently chooses to respond with.

Before Jimin can ask for an explanation, the sound of Taehyung’s phone buzzing causes both boys to startle and Jimin hits his head on the plastic roof above him. He’ll later find out that it’s a text from Hoseok telling everyone to come back to the car because of the weather.

[Next- the link will take you to Ao3]

✩✩✩♔✩✩✩

Send me your thoughts here. Or just come say hi ;) feedback is appreciated

Support me/Donate and get some super rad 😎 rewards

Thanks for reading! Much love ~🐰 xx

#bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jimin fanfic #jimin smut #jikook #taehyung fanfic #bts au #RED #jimin x jungkook #taehyung x jungkook #taehyung x jimin #what a mess

28 notes · View notes