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Chapter Text

The darkness swirled and churned, threatening to consume everything in its wake. Jungkook stared into the depths and rather than turn away in fear, he spread his arms as if welcoming a dear friend, and jumped.

At least, that was what he intended to do. And what better time than on the eve of a new year? People across the globe were making resolutions they would break in a week, planning for this year to be ‘their year.’ But it never was, at least not for him. He was tired, bored with life. He wanted out.

He passed the bridge every day going to and from school. It had always called to him, a siren’s song in a grey world. It seemed out of place, far too dark and imposing to fit in with the flowery illusion of classical architecture in this area. In truth, everything had been prefabricated in a Chinese factory and tossed up almost overnight. If you looked, you could see the cheapness of it all, the inauthenticity, but nobody cared to look past the pretty façade, perfectly content to wallow in their carefully constructed delusions of importance and meaning. But the bridge wasn’t like that. It was ugly, made of concrete and metal and meant to serve the very mundane purpose of connecting there to here and had been there for the better part of half a century. It was the realest thing in Jungkook’s life and that appealed to him for this. Today, its purpose was the same as always with only a slight variation: connecting here, this life, to there, whatever followed when you died.

He could hardly wait.

The air was cold, probably the coldest that Jungkook could remember feeling, but it brought everything into sharp focus as he made the trek to his favorite part of the bridge. It wouldn’t be special to anybody else. Nobody else cared about the cracks in the code, the ugly places in the falsely pretty world, but he did. This particular place boasted a bit of creative graffiti (a massive dick done in shades of the rainbow) and a crack that spanned the wall separating the road from the pedestrian walkway. More than that, though, there was a practical reason for choosing this span of the bridge. Namely, the fencing which would prevent someone from going over the side of the bridge was broken here. Not enough for anybody to worry about, but enough for Jungkook to exploit it on this fateful night.

The broken chain link caught at his clothes and skin as he ducked through the small hole, bringing with it stinging cuts that Jungkook couldn’t find it in himself to care about. Excitement flooded his veins as he felt the world drop out beneath him. The ledge he found himself on was thin, just enough space for his feet with maybe an inch to spare. The dark water churned beneath him, looking otherworldly in the halogen glow of the streetlamps behind him.

All he had to do was take a step, let go of the railing behind him, and embrace the darkness. Just two little things separating here from there…

“Please don’t jump.” The voice was soft, lyrical and completely unfamiliar. Jungkook’s eyes flew open and he turned to see who the hell was intruding on this private moment.

The culprit proved to be a shorter male, plump lips turned down in a frown. His hair was fluffy and pale, glowing an ethereal golden shade. He was beautiful, but what really caught Jungkook’s attention were the sunglasses over his eyes. The sun had set hours ago—it was nearly midnight—so he saw no reason for their presence.

“Why shouldn’t I jump?” Jungkook asked carefully. “What’s it to you?”

The other sighed, moving to slip through the chain link fence much as Jungkook had done just moments before. He somehow managed it with ease, however, gracefully avoiding the grabbing of the fence’s prongs. Once on the other side, however, he seemed much less at ease. “That’s a long way down.”

“No shit,” Jungkook said, smirking despite himself. “Why do you think I picked it?”

“You’d be surprised, a lot of people don’t realize how much jumping into water from this high up will hurt, let alone how cold it is. It’s like a thousand needles, piercing you all over your body,” the other said, his voice very matter of fact.

“…are you quoting Titanic to me right now?”

The laughter he got in response was so carefree and musical that Jungkook lost his breath for a moment. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard such authentic mirth from anybody. “Yeah, I am. But I mean it! You shouldn’t jump.”

Jungkook shook his head but didn’t move to jump, either. “Why are you wearing those sunglasses? It’s pitch black out here.”

“I…it’s hard to explain,” the other said, but he moved to pull the sunglasses off.

Jungkook watched carefully, wondering if he was hiding a black eye or a nasty case of conjunctivitis or if he was blind and the gaze he’d be met with was going to be cloudy or milky like in all those movies where a strange man in sunglasses appeared out of nowhere. As the glasses were pulled off, however, the other held his eyes closed for a minute. Jungkook saw no sign of bruising or pinkness, so black eye or conjunctivitis weren’t it. Which left…

But then his eyes opened and Jungkook had to catch his breath for the second time that night. They were unlike anything he’d ever seen but cloudy or milky were two things that he would never associate with them. They were brown, yes, but not really. Brown eyes were supposed to look black in the darkness, but these eyes seemed to give off a glow all their own. Tendrils of green and yellow were there if you looked close enough, long enough, to see them, and if you weren’t looking directly at them, you might even think the irises were swirling around the pupils like a primordial galaxy.

For just a moment, Jungkook couldn’t remember why he’d ever been so interested in the darkness below him to begin with when the light from the other’s eyes spelled out his doom far more clearly and peacefully than the drop to the river below.

“Disconcerting, aren’t they?” the other asked wryly.

“Beautiful is the word I’d use,” Jungkook blurted before he’d even realized he was speaking aloud.

If the other male was bothered by the compliment from another man, however, he didn’t show it. Instead, he smiled beatifically. “I’m Jimin,” he said.

“I’m Jungkook. I’d say nice to meet you but…well.” Jungkook shrugged.

Jimin laughed. “Yeah, the circumstances could be better. So, tell me Jungkook…why do you want to die so badly?”

Jungkook sighed. This was the thing that bothered him the most about being interrupted: the inevitable questions. Why did he have to justify his decision to anybody else? It was his life to do with as he pleased, though everybody and their cousins seemed to think that it was theirs. “I don’t want to die,” Jungkook replied. “I’m just tired of living a life that isn’t my own.”

“So your first decision is to…throw it away?” Jimin asked, arching an eyebrow.

Jungkook felt his ire rise at the condescension in the other’s tone. “Yeah,” he said. “It is.”

“Oh.” Jimin frowned. “That’s sad.”

Jungkook scoffed. “Not really.”

“Well,” Jimin continued, perching carefully on the stone ledge. “Can we at least talk for a while before you do that?”

Jungkook thought about telling him no—telling him to fuck off and leave him to do what he’d come out here to do. He hadn’t come here to be social; quite the opposite, in fact. He’d come here so he’d never have to be social again.

“We don’t have to talk about you or what you’re doing here if you don’t want to. Truth be told, I’m new here and I just…want a friend. Even if it’s just for one night.” Jimin looked at him imploringly and how could Jungkook say no to that pout?

Sighing in defeat and wondering what kind of masochist would make friends with someone that was clearly planning on being dead by the next day, he sat down on the ledge as well. It was harder for him because he wasn’t as small as the other and his legs were long and gangly. He had to scoot back and entangle his fingers with the cold metal of the chain link to prevent himself from falling—ironic, considering he’d been planning on falling from the beginning—but he managed to get situated. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Hm. Well, we can talk about things we like. Or I could tell you where I’m from, that sort of thing,” Jimin mused.

“I already know where you’re from,” Jungkook said, smiling a little when he received a surprised look in response. “You’re from Busan.”

“How the hell do you know that? Are you psychic?” Jimin asked.

Jungkook laughed. “Not even close. I’m originally from Busan, too. I recognize the Satoori. My mom still speaks it to me sometimes.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize I was still speaking it,” Jimin said, blushing and running his hand through his hair briefly. “It’s going to be hard to get used to being in Seoul. It’s so…big.”

Jungkook shrugged. “You get used to it. You in high school?”

Jimin nodded. “Yeah. I’m a senior, though, so I’ll be graduating soon.”

“Sophomore,” Jungkook admitted.

Jimin grinned. “That means you should call me hyung.”

“Yeah, don’t count on that, Jiminie,” Jungkook said, purposefully being informal to see if he could get Jimin riled up.

Jimin made a sound of disgust. “The disrespect…”

Jungkook laughed and then Jimin joined in, shaking his head as if he were annoyed but unable to resist it. Jungkook took that as a victory.

Silence fell over them for a minute, Jimin gazing to a point in the distance with an almost misty look in those eerily beautiful eyes.

“Did you leave a lot of friends behind?” Jungkook asked quietly, breaking the silence. His gaze tracked upwards to the sky, following Jimin’s faraway look. It was difficult to see the stars in the city, light pollution and smoke from factories bleeding into the night sky and turning it shades of red in places.

“Not really,” Jimin admitted. “I…wasn’t exactly popular in my old school.”

“Ah…that sucks. Why didn’t they like you?”

“That’s a bit hard to explain,” Jimin said, chuckling. It was a different sound from the mirthful laughter of earlier, and Jungkook frowned. He didn’t like this laugh; it was dark and almost bitter and didn’t suit the other male beside him at all.

“You said that about your eyes, too. And you still haven’t explained why you kept them covered,” Jungkook pointed out.

“Those stories kind of go together,” Jimin said somewhat cryptically.

“So tell me,” Jungkook said.

“You won’t believe me. You’ll probably laugh.”

“So what? If I do, I’ll be dead by tomorrow anyways. What do you have to lose?”

Jimin bit his plush bottom lip, considering Jungkook’s words carefully. Jungkook stared back, unblinking and guileless in the darkness. Apparently, Jimin saw what he needed in Jungkook’s face because his shoulders drooped and he sighed. “I’m cursed.”

As expected, Jungkook laughed.

“Ugh, see. I told you you’d laugh,” Jimin complained.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Jungkook said. “But cursed? Come on, hyung, that’s just fairy tale bullshit. What makes you think you’re cursed?”

“I see death,” Jimin said, voice serious. “I try to block it out—the glasses help sometimes because the shadows are easier to ignore—but sometimes, I can’t control it. It’s like…sometimes, I’m possessed. I wander as if in a dream and always end up somewhere that somebody is about to die.”

“You’re joking,” Jungkook said, frowning at the serious tone. Did Jimin genuinely think he was cursed in that way?

“I wish I was joking,” Jimin replied, looking almost like he wanted to cry. “There’s these shadows. They’re everywhere, lingering around people, hovering by them. When they touch someone…that person dies.”

“That’s insane, Jimin. You have to realize that.”

“You sound just like everyone else,” Jimin said, and for the first time Jungkook could tell that Jimin was genuinely upset by him. “How do you think I found you, huh?”

“I assumed you were just wandering around and saw me on this side of the fence. It’s not hard to put two and two together and make four, hyung,” Jungkook responded.

“In the freezing cold on New Year’s Eve? Who just wanders around in that situation and happens to find the one bridge where someone is about to jump, arriving just in time?” Jimin returned.

“I don’t know, but whatever. If you want to believe you’re cursed, I guess that’s your business. We all have our brand of crazy,” Jungkook said.

Jimin frowned but didn’t make to defend himself any further, for which Jungkook was eternally grateful because a part of him considered that maybe, just maybe…

“…is there a shadow beside me right now?” Jungkook asked, breaking the silence and surprising Jimin, who glanced up at him with wide eyes.

As Jungkook’s question sunk in Jimin looked around him, gaze frantically (but fearfully) searching. He seemed surprised, then he exhaled. “No. It’s gone,” he said with noticeable relief, a small smile forming on his lips. “Decided not to do it after all?”

Jungkook shrugged. “Not tonight. The situation doesn’t seem fitting anymore. Besides…” Jungkook reached up into the chain link fence and used it to pull himself to his feet. His butt had nearly gone numb from sitting on the cold concrete for so long and he suspected Jimin felt much the same. He reached out a hand, helping Jimin up as well.

For a moment they stood there, gazing at each other on the too-small ledge, the dark water still churning beneath them and looking hungry. Then, Jungkook smiled at the smaller male. “…it’s midnight.”

And just like that, Jungkook pressed a small kiss to Jimin’s lips.

To his surprise, the other didn’t pull away. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that there wasn’t really anywhere to go, but judging by the way the other seemed to just melt into him, Jungkook suspected it was a little more than that. “Maybe it’ll be my year after all.”

Because somehow, Jimin had wandered into his life at just the right time and he was new, he was interesting, he was just the right level of crazy that Jungkook wanted to peel him apart layer by layer, find out more about this so-called curse. And maybe Jungkook didn’t believe in the curse fully, but he did believe in destiny, and he couldn’t help but wonder if Jimin was his.

Chapter Text

“Park Jimin!”

Jimin stopped and clenched his fists at his side, taking deep breaths to calm himself. He knew exactly what was going to be said and he was already dreading it with everything in him. Still, he couldn’t just ignore a teacher, so he turned to face this head on. “Yes, seonsaeng-nim?” he asked politely, smiling as brightly as possible. It was known to soften the most cold-hearted of individuals on occasion, and Jimin had used his charms to some success throughout his entire life.

Unfortunately, the speaker was his gangly, middle-aged history teacher, Lee Jungho. It was Jimin’s first day, but the man had already singled him out and committed his name to memory and Jimin already knew the man to be utterly immune to his sweetest expressions. In fact, he seemed to take personal offense to Jimin’s attempts to please him—a point which was especially difficult for him, since he was so much of a people pleaser.

“Take off those sunglasses this instant,” Lee said.

“Please, if you’d just take a moment, I have a note…” Jimin said.

But the other cut him off. “I don’t care about some note. For all I know, you could have forged that note,” Lee returned.

Jimin had, in fact, forged that note. His father would have signed it easily enough, always being the more supportive one of his parents. His mother though…

Things with his mother weren’t great, to say the least. When he’d been younger, they had all been close: him, his little brother Jihyun, and both of their parents. He had genuinely felt that he could tell them anything and they would support him 110%. In fact, he had told them everything, even when he turned fourteen and came to the realization that he was gay. Jihyun had teased him, saying that he’d always known and he was just wondering when he’d come out of the closet; his mother smiled and smoothed his hair down and his father had given him a hug, both of them promising that a parent’s love was unconditional and they would love him no matter what. If only that had been true.

Back then, things were simpler. Jimin had confided in his parents about his curse from the minute he began seeing the shadows at the age of four. His mother had dismissed it as a child’s fancy, insisting that it would pass with time, but his father had been the one to take him seriously. He’d been the one to teach him the trick with the sunglasses, he’d been the one who would come and pick Jimin up when he found himself sobbing in the cold away from home after witnessing yet another terrible accident or heart attack where someone died, unaware how he’d gotten there or how to get back, and he’d been the one to tell him that it wasn’t a curse—that maybe one day, when he was older, he would be able to save lives instead of simply witnessing death taking what it pleased.

It had been difficult, of course it had. No child should have to live with death as a constant companion in a world that was already scary enough, but with love and support, it had been fine. And then came the worst accident of all, the one that changed everything.

The school was having a field trip, one that Jimin and Jihyun had both been looking forward to. It was a long trip too, the biggest of the year, and it included students from both junior and senior high school. They were to depart from Busan and drive all the way Wolmido, where they were going to learn about the American invasion to take out North Korean troops stationed there during the Six-Two-Five*. Of course, the history wasn’t what had the kids so excited: it was the fact that they would get to spend three hours of the overnight trip at the Wolmido amusement park.

Their father had agreed to chaperone the trip, making it all the more exciting for them knowing that they would get to share the fun with him. Their mother packed them each homemade lunches before driving all three of them to the school to see them off.

But that was when things got tricky. No sooner had Jimin stepped out of the car to greet his school friends than he was overcome with dread—because the shadows were everywhere. Even the sunglasses did little to help conceal them, and he knew without a doubt that this trip was going to end in disaster.

He had been fifteen going on sixteen at the time, a second year in high school, and with that age came a certain level of maturity. But that maturity went out the window when he saw the shadows hovering next to his father, brother, and closest friends. He began screaming at them that they absolutely could not go on this trip, certain that everyone was going to die somehow. He would never forget the way his classmates stared at him before they bust out in laughter, calling him crazy. Even his father looked embarrassed at the scene Jimin was making, but he didn’t care; he would do whatever it took to stop his loved ones from going on a trip that he was certain was doomed. His mother had even tried to calm him down, pulling him back from his father when he threw himself at the older man, begging and sobbing, to no avail.

And then, she’d slapped him.

The sting of her hand against his cheek had hurt, but it was nothing compared to the feeling of betrayal and terror filling his chest. Especially when after everything was said and done, his father said nothing. He simply shook his head, placed an arm around Jihyun and they got on the bus with the other students.

To this day, Jimin didn’t know why his father had gone and taken Jihyun with him despite his warning. Maybe he’d never believed Jimin after all, though that possibility hurt far more than Jimin wanted to admit.

Jimin watched the bus pull out of the school’s parking lot with eyes that refused to shed anymore tears. “They’re going to die,” Jimin had whispered to his mother.

“You’re a horrible boy to say something like that,” his mother had responded, starting up the car and driving them back home. She spared him no more words or even looks as she went about getting ready for work, leaving him home alone for the rest of the day.

It was tradition for Jimin’s family to have dinner together, even if only a few of them were present, and they would chat about their day. But during dinner that night, neither he nor his mother seemed capable of looking the other in the eye and the silence had been suffocating. Jimin’s appetite had gone out the window from the moment he’d seen those shadows that morning.

He pushed the food around his bowl sullenly, while his mother read a book at the table, looking away from the pages only when she needed to take another bite of kimchi stew. Any other night like that, when he and his mother were fighting and there wasn’t any buffer between them, the knock that came at the door would have been an opportunity for him to slip away to his room. That night, however, it sent a stab of dread throughout his entire body.

His mother stood. “Who could be visiting now? Don’t they know it’s dinner time…” she muttered. Jimin’s spoon hit the plate with a loud clatter and he hurried to follow her to the door.

The second it had swung open, revealing a tall police officer who removed his hat, Jimin knew what had happened; he’d known it that morning.

Apparently, the bus’s brakes had gone out just outside of Daejeon. The driver had tried to slow it down, but he’d lost control and the bus had gone over a freeway bridge, landing upside down on the highway below. As the officer explained that Jimin’s father had died, he watched as his mother crumpled to the ground, sobbing brokenly.

Jimin had rushed over, pulling his mother up off the ground and into his arms. As a dancer, he’d always been strong for his small frame and he lifted her easily, allowing her to bury her head in his shoulder while she cried.

“What about my brother?” he asked around a growing lump in his throat. “Park Jihyun…is he…did he…”

The officer shook his head. “We’re not entirely sure. Most of the students had their IDs in their luggage, most of which spilled onto the freeway. Officers on the scene are still rooting through all of that, but I can take you both to the hospital. Your father…he was a good man. Really helped me out of a pinch when I needed a loan last year.”

Jimin nodded numbly. That was always the kind of man his father had been; he gave freely and though he would call something a “loan,” he’d never actually collect on it.

As it was, Jihyun miraculously had not died that day. He was badly injured and in a coma for nearly two weeks. And when he had awakened…he never spoke again. The doctors insisted that it had nothing to do with physical injury; rather, it was a response to the trauma of the accident.

After that day, Jimin and his mother’s relationship only got worse. It was no secret that she blamed Jimin for the accident, insisting that him and his “damned eyes” had cursed those on that bus to have a terrible accident. Worse, Jimin felt the same way. He should have been stronger, should have found a better way to convince everyone that this trip had to be canceled.

Everyone at school refused to let him live it down, as well. Those who survived with only minor injuries or who had only witnessed things secondhand called him “cursed boy” and reenacted his hysterics. Crueler students, such as those who had siblings who passed away or were injured terribly in the tragedy, would often corner him in the bathroom or behind the school and would beat him. It didn’t change what happened, but if it made them feel less angry all the time, well, Jimin was willing to be their punching bag.

He did his best to move past it all, to live his life despite everything. He devoted himself to his dancing, almost slavishly, spending as little time at home as possible, but he couldn’t escape the horrible memories and neither could his mother, it seemed.

Eventually, they had decided to move to Seoul. His relationship with his mother hadn’t changed much, but at least here he could start over at school.

And apparently, he was staring over on the wrong foot.

“Are you ignoring me, boy?” Lee fumed, yanking Jimin back to the present.

“N-no, sir,” Jimin stammered. “Sorry…I…I’ll take them off right away.”

He finally pulled his sunglasses off, wishing he could just walk around with his eyes closed forever but knowing that would just cause more trouble. With a deep breath, he opened his eyes and waited for the horror.

It didn’t come. He let out a relieved sigh. At least for now, nobody near him was going to be dying soon.

“Ridiculous—nothing wrong with your eyes,” Lee said almost triumphantly. “If I catch you wearing those indoors again, I’ll see to it that you’re reprimanded officially. I can’t imagine your parents would like that much.”

Jimin shook his head. No, his mother wouldn’t. He could only avoid her rage by keeping his head down completely; if she got so much as a whisper of his wrongdoing…he knew he wouldn’t hear the end of it. She wasn’t often physically abusive to him, but her words were worse somehow—like poison.

“Get to class; the sight of you is starting to make me sick,” Lee continued.

Jimin sighed heavily, but turned to do as he was told quickly. He kept his head down as he moved through the hallways, eyes on the schedule so that he didn’t have to chance seeing the shadows that at any time could crop up.

Unfortunately, this meant that he wasn’t paying attention to what was in front of him and he ran into a rather tall, broad…someone.

The reaction was swift and violent. One minute, Jimin was knocking into a soft body by accident and the next he was pressed into the lockers hard enough that his head hit the metal quite painfully. The smell of cigarette smoke clogged Jimin’s nose and he looked up in surprise to see who was holding him against the lockers.

He looked dangerous. Eyes narrowed, dyed white hair styled into an impressive array of spikes, leather jacket…if you looked up ‘bad boy’ in a dictionary, this guy would be the picture. And right behind him…

“Jungkook?” Jimin asked, eyes wide. He suddenly didn’t care so much about the pair of strong arms pushing him. He had hoped that Jungkook would be a student here, that he would get to see the younger again in better circumstances. These admittedly weren’t ideal either, but they were a far-cry from a literal fall to one’s death.

But Jungkook didn’t react the way Jimin had thought upon meeting him again. He seemed…colder somehow. More remote. If he didn’t know better, he would think the other didn’t know him at all.

“You know this clown, Kook?” murmured the other, the one who was pushing him. He was clearly older than Jungkook, probably a senior like Jimin. He gave off the distinct presence of someone that would easily snap you in two and not think twice about it.

Before anyone could answer this rather simple question, someone turned the corner. His eyes widened almost comically when he took in the scene, then he did something unexpected.

“There you are!” said the other, giving Jimin a boxy grin. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Come on, we’re going to be late!”

Jimin was confused. He’d never seen this other boy in his life. His mouth opened, but he couldn’t think of the right words to say no matter how much the boy’s eyes begged him to go along with his ruse. “I…um…ah…”

“Thanks for finding him for me, Donghyun-ssi. Mind letting him go?” Jimin’s would-be-rescuer released the full-effect of his puppy eyes on the dangerous stranger, and much to his surprise, said stranger made a slight sound of annoyance and dropped him. Jimin fell on his butt at the foot of the locker, clutching the now wrinkled material of his shirt.

“Let’s go,” Donghyun said.

“Yeah, he’s not worth our time,” Jungkook said, and those words, more than anything, stabbed straight into Jimin’s heart. It hardly seemed fair for Jungkook to say that, when he had been the one to kiss him that fateful New Year’s Eve. He’d literally saved this boy’s life and now…now, Jimin didn’t know what to think.

Donghyun and Jungkook turned and left, but as they reached the door, Jimin thought he saw Jungkook turn his head and offer an apologetic look; but then he was gone as quickly as he’d come and Jimin was left with a hollow feeling in his chest.

“Those guys are pricks,” his rescuer said, reaching to help Jimin up. Jimin gave him a smile and took the offered hand.

“Yeah,” Jimin agreed. “But…why did they let me go when you asked?”

The boy offered another boxy grin. “Well, my mom’s the school’s director. One word from me, they get expelled. Donghyun doesn’t give a shit about his education, but Jungkookie’s parents are real hardasses that don’t tolerate any kind of failure and Donghyun doesn’t want to get killed by Kookie’s hyungs, Min Yoongi and Kim Namjoon, who look after Jungkook but graduated already. It’s a whole tangle of things, you’ll understand it once you get used to school here.”

“Ah,” Jimin said, head spinning with that series of facts.

His rescuer clapped him on the back. “But that’s neither here nor there—I’m Kim Taehyung.”

“Park Jimin,” Jimin replied.

“Jiminie—I like it. Say, how about after school we go and grab some food together? I know a great diner that’s just down the road.”

“Y-yeah, okay,” Jimin said, smiling in relief. So, maybe Jungkook wasn’t what he’d thought, but at least he seemed to have found a new friend in Kim Taehyung. For now, that was enough.

Chapter Text

Jungkook sighed, burying himself deeper into the car’s interior and folding his arms across his chest. He hated being told to wait in the car, but it was especially annoying when it was freezing and his stupid big brother refused to leave the heat running.

“That wastes gas and hurts the environment, Kook. I’ll only be a minute,” Junghyun would say. But it never took ‘only a minute.’ All of his family were overachievers in their way—except him, as he was told regularly by both of his parents—and Junghyun’s specialty was networking. He knew everyone of any importance and made sure to talk to whoever he ran into at length about the goings-on in their community and family lives. Lately, the conversations were even more lengthy because Junghyun had announced over the Christmas holiday that he was going into his military service after finishing his internship at the District Committee’s Office, which gave him instant celebrity status. Everyone couldn’t seem to stop gushing over his intelligent, handsome, dutiful brother, which meant that what should have been a quick trip into the grocery store to grab a few things for their mother had now become yet another opportunity for Junghyun to garner more supporters for when he inevitably chose to run for office.

It made Jungkook want to puke; he remembered a time when Junghyun had been less than perfect, too. They would fight over the computer like a pair of tomcats—Jungkook had a scar on his cheek to prove it—and he couldn’t begin to count the number of stupid dares he and his brother had both issued and accepted over the years. But somewhere along the line, Junghyun had changed into someone else, someone that felt fake like everything else in this life.

The thought reminded him of New Year’s and the boy that had stopped him from ending it all: Jimin. He had returned to that place on the bridge a few times since that night, half-expecting to find the other there, but he hadn’t. A part of him had wondered if he’d dreamt up the whole situation, some last-ditch attempt for his subconscious to convince him that he shouldn’t kill himself. Then came today, the first day back at school after winter holidays, and none other than Jimin had run into Donghyun in the hallway.

Jungkook had been shocked, to say the least. Jimin looked even smaller in the cheap artificial light of the school’s corridor; less ethereal and more vulnerable. When he’d seen him, he’d been struck by the urge to protect him, to wrap him in one of his oversized jackets and press him to his side, to keep him away from everyone—especially jerks like Donghyun, who he really only hung out with to spite his parents—and never let him go. But that part of him had been quite overruled by the fact that he would lose his carefully built reputation at school. He hated that reputation, hated that for all his inner monologues about the importance of authenticity and the disgusting nature of false identities, he depended so heavily on one himself, but not as much as he feared losing it all—at least not if he was going to still be alive to face the consequences of that.

For him, there was no greater fear than being vulnerable, than being known—and Jimin knew him more than probably anyone despite their very brief encounter. That was why he had been so cold, why he’d sneered and insulted the boy he wanted only to protect, the boy he’d just one week ago kissed and thought might be his destiny. It was a knee-jerk reaction to fear, one that even now left a foul taste in his mouth.

He wondered if there was a way that he could apologize to him, explain a little perhaps. But would that even be fair? He wasn’t ready to shed his protective mask—he wasn’t sure he ever would be—and that meant that even if he were to somehow make it up to Jimin, he’d have to continue keeping his distance at school. Nobody deserved to be messed around like that, especially not Jimin.

Jungkook’s phone buzzed and he pulled it out of the pocket of his leather coat. The screen was cracked and smudged almost beyond readability, but Jungkook was unreasonably fond of the thing and refused to have it replaced no matter how many times his parents made a comment about it, subtly hinting that it was time for a new one.

Yoongi 4:56PM
Party tonight?

You 4:57 PM
Hyung it’s Tuesday

Yoongi 4:57 PM
And?

Jungkook smiled despite himself. Yoongi always seemed to know when he needed a pick me up. Of course, in this case, ‘party’ meant getting drunk at the abandoned pool behind the school with him and Namjoon, and not the college ragers that people often associated with that term.

He hadn’t gotten to see his hyungs as much since they’d graduated and started attending university, Namjoon just last year and Yoongi the year before that. They were always working on some project or another for their music production degrees, locking themselves up in the studio for days at a time. He’d gone to watch a few of their underground rap battles here and there, the one thing that he knew they wouldn’t give up for the world, but for the most part it had been near radio silence for the better part of a year and he missed them.

You 5:01 PM
Meet you there around 7?

Yoongi 5:02 PM
Cool, see you

Jungkook tucked his phone back into his pocket and climbed out of the car. He slammed the door behind him with a little more force than necessary and stuffed his hands in his pocket, beginning the trek back in the direction of the school his brother had been picking him up from before his impromptu errand. It was far from the first time that Jungkook got tired of waiting around and chose to walk instead, so he didn’t even bother letting his brother know. Maybe it would do him good to worry for a second when he got home and found that Jungkook wasn’t there. Maybe their parents would lecture him for a change about being responsible.

Ha…yeah, right.

More likely, Jungkook would be the one getting lectured when he came home. He didn’t care though—it wasn’t like he hadn’t gotten used to his parents’ lectures by now, and the promise of seeing his hyungs was well worth whatever trouble he got into for it. So without further ado, he stuffed his hands into his pocket against the cold, and hurried on his way.

“Are you sure it’s okay? Your parents won’t mind?” Jimin asked worriedly. He’d been held up after school due to mix-up with his registration for a required class he was said to have failed last year but which he knew he hadn’t, and he’d had to come to the office and sort that out. Unfortunately, it had taken far longer than expected and he’d been sure that his after-school meal with his new friend would have to be put off for another time.

However, Taehyung had insisted on staying with him through the whole thing and the two were only just now getting settled into a booth at Eat Jin, the diner Taehyung had been talking about earlier.

It was just after five in the evening, the sun beginning to set behind the tall buildings in the near-distance, but the diner surprisingly wasn’t that crowded despite the time. Jimin was incredibly thankful for that; the less people there were near him, the less likely he was to see something he didn’t want to and make a fool of himself in front of Taehyung after having only just met him.

The diner itself was a quaint little place and the smell of home cooking was almost intoxicating. Since his father’s death, Jimin’s mother seldom cooked anymore—at least not when he was home which admittedly wasn’t that often in the first place—and he’d gotten far too used to fast food and snacks in place of balanced meals, assuming he even bothered eating anything that day. Sometimes it was easier to ignore his grief and guilt when he had the hollow feeling of hunger swirling in his gut to keep his mind off of it all.

“My parents aren’t usually home by now anyways,” Taehyung promised, waving his rather massive hand dismissively. “Just my halmeoni, and I texted to let her know I was going to be late; she’s cool with it. Besides, we’re friends now—I always make time for my friends.”

Jimin blushed and ducked his head, trying to hide his face behind the pink menu. The diner had a lot of pink in it, come to think of it. The walls, placemats, menus, and even the dishes were pink, giving the place a distinctly feminine vibe to it, but somehow it wasn’t at all overbearing. The pink was a soft and understated shade, like airy tufts of cotton candy on a spring day, and felt natural as it surrounded him.

“What kind of food do they serve here?” Jimin asked hurriedly, feeling self-conscious and a little embarrassed (but in a good way) over Taehyung’s declaration that they were officially friends now.

“Oh, all kinds,” Taehyung gushed. “Jin hyung’s really young, but he learned how to make all kinds of things when he went to study in Europe.”

“He went to culinary school in Europe?” Jimin asked, trying to wrap his head around how much something like that would cost and how difficult it would be.

“You’re too kind Taehyung-ah,” came an unfamiliar voice as a broad-shouldered man approached their table, setting a small slice of cheesecake in front of each of them. “I only studied there for two years, and never went to an actual culinary school. I just learned whatever tricks my hosts could teach me as I backpacked across Europe.”

“Jin hyung!” Taehyung chirped. “I want you to meet my new friend, Park Jimin. He stood up to Yoo Donghyun at school today!”

Jimin blushed again. “Tae…I didn’t do anything like that. I just ran into the guy…”

“That so?” Jin smiled and it was truly a breathtaking sight; the man was handsome, without a doubt. It was the kind of handsome that would probably be intimidating if not for the kind expression on his features. He radiated that same oddly comfortable vibe that the color scheme of his diner gave off and Jimin couldn’t help but relax in his presence. “In that case, free cheesecake for life!”

“Oh please, you give ‘free cheesecake for life’ to anyone that comes in here with a pretty face,” Taehyung joked as he grabbed a spoon and made to take a bite of the cheesecake.

“No more free cheesecake for life for you, Kim Taehyung,” Jin huffed, snatching up the slice he’d placed in front of Taehyung and handing it to Jimin. “There—you look like you could use some fattening up, so you can have all Taehyung’s cheesecake from now on.”

Taehyung’s facial expression was priceless, his mouth falling open and the spoon he’d only just picked up dangling uselessly from his hand.

It took everything in Jimin not to laugh out loud at his new friend’s plight, but he managed with some difficulty and gave Jin a smile. “Thank you, but I really couldn’t possibly…”

“I insist, no takebacks,” Jin cut him off playfully. “Please, eat up.”

“Okay,” Jimin relented, picking up his own spoon, “But I can really only eat one. I’m a dancer, so fattening me up would probably not be a good thing.”

“Oh, you dance?” Taehyung said around a mouthful of cheesecake. He’d immediately dived in when Jimin had said he could only eat one. Jin swatted him on the back of his head for his lack of manners, but Jimin did notice that he slid the second cheesecake back towards the rambunctious—and obviously hungry—boy.

Jimin nodded, swallowing his own bite. “I do! Well, I did. I still have to find a dance studio here, but I intend to as soon as possible,” he admitted. And get a job to pay for the membership too, he reminded himself silently, knowing that he would never be able to bring himself to ask his mother for the money.

“Anyways,” Jin said, politely placing a cloth napkin from the pocket of his apron in front of each boy. “Enjoy your complimentary cheesecake, boys, and feel free to wave me over if you want something a little more appropriate for dinner. I’m going to see what sort of trouble I can cook up in the kitchens.”

As Jin walked away, Jimin couldn’t help but note that his laughter at the rather silly joke sounded like windshield wipers, and the thought brought a goofy smile to his face.

“You know,” Taehyung said, licking some strawberry glaze off his fingers and bringing Jimin’s attention back to him. “If you want to join a dance studio, you should meet Hoseok hyung.”

“Who?” Jimin asked, curiosity piqued.

“Jung Hoseok. His mother owns a contemporary dance studio about a block from here, but Hoseok himself is an incredible hip-hop dancer. I could introduce you if you’d like—I think he might even have a battle this weekend, if you’re interested in going and seeing him in action,” Taehyung suggested.

“Kim Taehyung, I could kiss you,” Jimin declared without thought. He had gotten so comfortable in the other’s presence that it never occurred to him that he might be uncomfortable or even disgusted by the statement. His heart grinded to a halt when his brain finally did catch up to the words, however, and he froze like a deer in headlights as he waited for his friend to pass judgement.

But he didn’t. Instead, Taehyung laughed. “Well, you could kiss me all you want, but I have to warn you that my heart is a wild stallion that can’t be tamed. There’s just too much of me to go around, you know?”

Jimin’s own laugh was one of relief more than anything, happy that he hadn’t managed to accidentally screw this friendship up before it had even gotten properly started. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said easily.

“So, battle this weekend?” Taehyung suggested, waggling his eyebrows unnecessarily. “It’s a date?”

“It’s a date,” Jimin confirmed.

“I’ll have that kiss now,” Taehyung teased, puckering up ridiculously, and Jimin tossed his napkin at the other playfully. Before long, Taehyung was chasing after Jimin with his lips and arms out in front of him, Jimin running away and squealing that this was harassment.

Neither of them ended up eating a proper dinner that night after all, but Jimin found that laughter and free cheesecake did the trick of helping him forget his troubles all the same.

Chapter Text

Jimin toed off his shoes in the doorway after Taehyung dropped him off in front of his house. “I’m home,” he called almost timidly inside. It was commonplace for him to not come home directly after school, so he wasn’t worried he’d get in trouble for that. Mostly, he wasn’t sure what mother he would be coming home to: the sad and distant but otherwise kind mother who apologized for the way she treated him, or the furious mother that took any and everything out on him because he was a convenient target for all her grief and rage.

When he received no response, he stepped further into the home. They’d finally gotten their things fully unpacked so there were no longer any boxes to trip over; the whole process had taken so long that he’d worried they would be living out of boxes for the rest of their lives, but luckily that hadn’t been the case. It had taken a better part of a month, but finally, their home in Seoul looked like an actual home.

In the living room, his mother was laying on the couch, snoring softly. She hadn’t even removed her makeup, her latest novel lying on the ground next to her hand, which dangled over the edge of the sofa.

Jimin smiled softly, moving to grab a blanket off the loveseat and draping it carefully over his mother. She shifted a little in her sleep and for a moment, Jimin was afraid he’d awakened her. Instead, she simply snuggled deeper into the blanket and murmured a soft thank you—to his father.

The reminder hurt, and he quickly retreated. Only to see Jihyun standing in the hallway, watching him with an inscrutable expression.

“Jihyun-ah, you scared me,” Jimin said. “What are you doing there?”

Jihyun scoffed and shrugged before lifting his hands to sign. Why are you so nice to her?

When Jihyun had first gotten out of the hospital, he’d had to relearn how to read and write. For that reason, texting and writing out what he wanted to say was far too difficult and of course he refused to speak, so Jimin had proposed the idea of them making up their own secret sign language. Since then, he’d gotten back his reading and writing skills for the most part and the language had gotten more complex after that. Nobody besides them, not even their mother, understood it.

Jimin frowned. “Why wouldn’t I be nice to her? She’s our mother.” He knew Jihyun’s hearing was perfectly fine and therefore he didn’t strictly need to sign, but he signed along with the words as he spoke them anyway. He hoped that one of these days, it would encourage Jihyun to talk as well, but until then he was perfectly content to keep to their private language.

She treats you like shit. I don’t know why you don’t fight back, Jihyun signed furiously.

Jimin sighed. His brother had always been more of the fighter between them. The first time someone tried to make fun of him or belittle him for his lack of speaking, he had punched them straight in the nose. It earned him a stay in detention, but Jihyun had assured him it was worth it because nobody tried to make fun of him after that.

“She’s having a hard time getting over Appa’s death, that’s all,” Jimin said, moving his hands along with the words once more. “I can’t fault her for that.”

Jimin never understood why Jihyun didn’t blame him like everybody else did. He’d lost more than most—a father and his ability to speak due to trauma—and yet he still treated his elder brother the same way he always had. It meant more than Jimin could truly say, but at the same time he wasn't sure he deserved such kindness.

You should fault her for that, Jihyun signed. She’s an adult. She should know better.

Jimin shrugged helplessly. He didn’t know how to explain to Jihyun how he felt—that he deserved whatever she gave him because he’d known what was going to happen and yet could do nothing to stop it. But apparently, his thoughts were betrayed on his face because no sooner had he thought them than Jihyun sighed sadly and began signing again.

It’s not your fault. Please stop taking blame for something you didn’t do.

“If I couldn’t have stopped you, I should have at least gone with you. Maybe I could have saved Appa then,” Jimin said.

Or maybe you would have died and I would have lost both my father and my brother, Jihyun returned.

Jimin didn’t know what to say to that. He bit his lip, glancing at his sleeping mother then at his brother. “Hey,” he began, “Wanna play some video games?”

Jihyun arched his eyebrow before signing, We’ve got school tomorrow. Shouldn’t we be doing homework and going to bed soon?

Jimin grinned. “I won’t tell Eomma if you don’t,” he returned, knowing damn well that Jihyun couldn’t tell their mother anything and that the other would think that funny.

Jihyun grinned back at him and Jimin had only a second to realize the other was about to take off in a race to the back bedroom where their game system was set up before the younger darted away. In the end, Jihyun of course beat him (“You cheated, brat!”) but it was fine. For the first time in a long time, Jimin felt comfortable in his own home.

The fire was already crackling in the barrel by the time Jungkook arrived at the abandoned pool, cheeks bright red and nose running from the cold. It had been a pretty long walk and he’d stopped only once to pick up some soju at a convenience store that was known for its lax regulation of underaged alcohol purchases.

“Jungkook-ah!” Namjoon shouted in a way that let him know that his hyung was already quite drunk, giving him a dimpled grin as Jungkook hopped down into the basin. “What took you so long?”

“Couldn’t get a ride,” Jungkook admitted. “But I brought this!”

He held up the six pack of soju triumphantly.

“You should have said something,” Yoongi admonished, meeting him and flinging an arm around the younger boy’s shoulders, ruffling his hair. “I would have come and picked you up.”

“Stop it, hyung,” Jungkook said, swatting the hand away though unable to suppress his grin.

They made their way to the fire, where Namjoon pulled Jungkook into a bear hug. Yoongi just barely managed to grab the drinks before he dropped them with the ferocity of the affection. “I’ve missed you, brat,” Namjoon said, squeezing and lifting him up.

Jungkook laughed breathlessly as the other finally planted him back on the ground. “Missed you, too,” he said.

It occurred to him that if he’d done what he had intended that night on the bridge, his hyungs would have missed him a lot longer; probably forever. Of course, he wouldn’t have been alive to feel guilty about that.

The warmth from the fire seeped into his skin as he held his hands over the barrel. He hadn’t even realized how cold he had gotten on his walk over until this very moment, feeling the shivers start now that he was getting a taste of warmth; of course his hyungs noticed.

“Yah, you should have bundled up more. Where’s your winter coat? This thing isn’t warm enough,” Yoongi grumbled upon seeing that Jungkook was only wearing a thin t-shirt underneath his worn leather jacket.

“I didn’t realize it was going to be so cold,” he said. “But it’s not a big deal; I’m fine by the fire.”

“Liar,” Namjoon said, draping a thick overcoat around Jungkook’s shoulders before he could protest and sitting down somewhat clumsily next to him. They had long ago found several serviceable sofas at a nearby dump and had driven them over here with the help of Jin’s old pickup truck; Namjoon and Jin had been flirting around each other for the better part of five years but when Namjoon had confessed his feelings to Jin, the other had said he needed to think. In this case, ‘thinking’ involved dropping everything and hopping on a plane to Europe for almost two years before finally returning and opening a cafe.

Jungkook didn’t really know what happened with their relationship after that. As far as he could tell, Jin and Namjoon continued their friendship but still hadn’t gotten their shit together enough to date.

“Here, this oughta warm you up,” Yoongi said, popping the cap off of a soju bottle and handing it to Jungkook, who accepted it eagerly. “So, how you been?”

Jungkook shrugged. “I’ve been good,” he said. “Family is still a pain, but what can you do?”

“Well, you could always run away and live with me,” Namjoon said. “I’d take good care of you.”

Yoongi scoffed. “You can barely take care of yourself. Just last week, I had to come over and show you how to iron your shirt without burning yourself.”

Namjoon pouted at that and Jungkook laughed. “Don’t worry, hyung. If I ever run away, you’ll be the first person I run to,” he said.

“At least you have faith in me,” Namjoon declared.

“Misplaced faith,” Yoongi pointed out.

“But faith nonetheless. Besides, you’re hardly one to talk. I had to write your paper for Music Theory two weeks ago,” Namjoon returned. “Without me, you would have flunked out and then where would you be?”

“I was swamped! Physically and emotionally drained—it was the least you could do after all the things I’ve had to teach you,” Yoongi said.

Jungkook listened to his hyungs banter, sipping at his drink all the while and watching the fire dance in the barrel. His mind wandered once more to Jimin, imagining his pure, carefree laugh and his velvety lips against his. For some reason, he couldn’t help but think if he really did run away, Namjoon would not actually be the person he would want to run to; it would be Jimin.

He’d been literally on the edge, ready to end it all, and that laugh had saved his life. But none of that mattered anymore; he’d closed that door earlier that day, when he’d said what he had and turned his back on the older boy.

“Hello? Earth to Kook?” Yoongi said, passing his lighter in front of Jungkook’s face to get his attention.

“Huh?” Jungkook blinked, glancing over at the shorter male, who had a cigarette hanging from his lips.

“I asked if you wanted a smoke,” Yoongi said.

“Oh. Uh, no thanks, hyung. I’m good,” he said. “I’ve got a track meet on Friday. First of the season; can’t be huffing and puffing on the track.”

“Suit yourself,” Yoongi responded, lighting his cigarette with the lighter and then tucking it back into his pocket.

“Good choice, Jungkook-ah. Smoking is a terrible habit,” Namjoon pointed out. “I’ve been trying to get Yoongi hyung to stop for years.”

“Smoking is the only thing that keeps me sane,” Yoongi said, blowing his smoke into the night. “Without it, I’d probably have killed myself ages ago.”

“You shouldn’t joke about things like that,” Namjoon said with a sigh.

Yoongi’s battle with depression was no secret. There were days, back when Yoongi was still in high school and Jungkook still in middle school, where the younger would have to go to his hyung’s house and literally pull him out of his bed, and he knew Namjoon had done much the same. Yoongi had eventually consented to getting clinical help and had been on anti-depressants for a while to help stabilize his moods, but Jungkook had never quite forgotten how much he and Namjoon had worried about Yoongi in those earlier days.

Perhaps that’s why he never told either of his hyungs about his own struggles, not wanting to burden them. It wasn’t like he lived in poverty, the way Yoongi had, or had a mother that was addicted to heroin like Namjoon’s. He had lived a life of privilege so far, the worst thing being his brother’s long shadow and his parents’ high expectations. He had no reason to feel the way he did, and it just made Jungkook angrier at himself for it.

“Did we lose you again?” Namjoon asked, giving Jungkook a concerned look.

“No, just thinking,” Jungkook said. “About how we’re all still here, against all odds. Together. It’s nice.”

“Sounds like you’re getting soft on me, kid,” Yoongi said. “But yeah, you’re right. I’m glad we’re all here too. Speaking of being together, Joon and I have a rap battle this weekend. Wanna come?”

“Have I ever said no to an invite to one of your rap battles?” Jungkook asked.

“And you better not, either,” Namjoon said. “One of these days, we’re going to get you to join us up there and you’ll need all the skills we’re going to teach you.”

“Good luck with that, hyung. I make a point of never getting into fights I can’t win. You know I get all tongue tied in front of people,” Jungkook said.

“It’s just a matter of the right tongue technology,” Yoongi remarked.

“That just sounds gross, to be honest,” Jungkook said. “I don’t want to learn any kind of tongue technology from you.”

“What, is he not your type or something?” Namjoon teased.

“Hm,” Jungkook thought about it, looking over his hyung. “Not quite. But…there is someone…”

Namjoon nearly spit his drink out. “You got a crush?”

Jungkook laughed. “No, nothing like that, but I did get to kiss somebody. On New Year’s.”

“You dog,” Yoongi teased. “When did you get so grown up?”

“Tell me about her! What’s she like? Is she in your class?” Namjoon prompted.

“I…” Jungkook wondered what he should say then decided to throw caution to the wind and just come out and tell his closest friends the truth, or at least most of it. He already knew they weren’t homophobes, though this was the closest he’d ever come to a ‘coming out,’ even with them. “Well, it’s not strictly a she…”

The hollers he got from that statement were loud and proud, which encouraged him to keep talking. “He’s new, just moved from Busan. Two years older than me, so he’s a senior.”

“Attaboy, get your older man,” Namjoon said.

“Unlike you, who managed to run yours off to another continent,” Yoongi teased.

“Shut up, we’re talking about Jungkookie now. What else? Is he nice? Cute?”

“Very. Hyungs, he’s got the prettiest eyes. Like perfect little crescents when he smiles, and his laugh is unreal.” Now that the gushing had started, he couldn’t stop it. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Jimin since they’d met and with a little liquid courage, it was hard to remember why he should be keeping his distance from this topic.

“Sounds like a crush to me,” Namjoon said knowingly. “When are you going to confess?”

The question brought the reality home. He couldn’t confess because he’d already ruined it with his performance today. “I…can’t.” He sighed. “I already messed that up. He ran into Donghyun and I didn’t do anything to protect him; I said he wasn’t worth our time. He probably hates me now.”

“You idiot,” Yoongi groaned. “Why are you still hanging out with that creep?”

Jungkook shrugged. “I dunno. It messes with my parents, I guess.”

“That’s a dumb reason to stick with somebody,” Namjoon said. Jungkook shrugged again.

“You need to fix this,” Yoongi pointed out.

“I don’t know how.” Jungkook gave him a defeated expression, letting his shoulders slump.

“Easy,” Yoongi said, tossing his cigarette on the ground and stomping it out. “You talk to him.”

Chapter Text

The entire house was dark once Jungkook finally stumbled back home, Yoongi having dropped him off about a block away to give him time to try and sober up before he went inside to face whatever punishment he was going to get. He felt a swell of dread at the sight, something about the dark windows making him feel almost sick to his stomach. He imagined his father sitting in a chair in the darkened living room, switching on a light as soon as he walked in.

No doubt he would begin by saying how disappointed he was in him, then he’d of course talk about what he was like when he was Jungkook’s age, how much better he’d been and how much more respectful of his parents he was. If his mother were there, she’d murmur softly in her Busan dialect that she knew he could be better than this, if only he would just try. It was the same lecture every time, but it somehow never ceased to sting a little when he received it.

But as Jungkook stepped into the house and paused, waiting for that light to come on or for someone to say something, nothing happened. The house remained steadfastly quiet and dark, the only sound coming from the grandfather clock in the den. Rather than feel relief at this, however, Jungkook felt his mood downturn even more steeply.

Maybe they weren’t home, he reasoned. He took his shoes off and stuffed them into the hallway closet, heading up the stairs. His father often worked late in his office, so that was the first place Jungkook looked to see if he was home or not. But when Jungkook pushed open the door, it was just as dark as the rest of the house and not a soul was in sight. He retreated quickly. The only other place he imagined they might be at this hour was the one place they told him and Junghyun that they weren’t allowed: their bedroom.

Since as long as he could remember, his parents were meticulous about planning their time. They had set hours for their work, and set hours for training their children to be the best that they could be, and set hours for socializing. But there was also a set time for being alone, and that time began the second they retreated to their bedroom which was strictly off limits to the boys.

When they were children, he and his brother used to dare each other to go in there when their parents weren’t home. They had been convinced that their parents were actually spies and that their room had a secret door that led to some secret base, and they both argued about where they thought it would be. Junghyun said it was in the master bathroom, while Jungkook was certain that it was in the closet. They each assumed that the room would be booby trapped to keep intruders from finding the secret base, and the fear of those traps kept both of them from even setting foot in there for a long time.

The furthest Jungkook had ever gotten, he’d been ten years old and Junghyun had been thirteen. He remembered the occasion so well because it was one of the last times he and his brother did anything fun together, and they both got into big trouble for it. They’d done everything they could to prepare: black clothes for stealth (even though it was broad daylight), walkie talkies to remain in contact during the mission, and a jar of candy as the reward. Their parents had taken their stash into their room after they’d eaten too much the night before and they were going to get it back, booby traps be damned. They played paper, scissors, rock to decide who was going to be the one who actually went in and who had to be the lookout, and of course Jungkook had lost, which put him in the more dangerous position of being the intruder.

Still, the promise of seeing inside the secret room had been thrilling and he’d been ready to accept that risk willingly enough. And so, “Operation: Retrieve Candy” was a go. Jungkook remembered taking the whole thing as seriously as a ten-year-old could take anything, creeping slowly down the hall and checking in with his brother every two feet to make sure he was still in the clear.

In the end, he’d gotten into the room and had been surprised by how plain it all was: white carpet on top of the hardwood floor, neutral accents, not a single thing out of place. He saw the candy on the far side of the bed sitting on a night table, and felt a swell of excitement. “Objective is in sight,” he’d whispered excitedly to his brother.

He had been very vigilant about traps, but found none. He hadn’t been sure then if he was relieved or disappointed, some part of him thinking it would be fun to try and go through a room of lasers or dodge poison darts like in those American movies he sometimes watched.

Either way, he managed to just barely get his hands on the jar of candy when everything went south. “Abort!” Junghyun hissed. “They’re home!”

But the jar was heavier than expected and Jungkook tripped on his way out, his feet getting tangled in the throw blanket tossed over the bottom corner of the bed. For about a second he’d been ecstatic that he’d found a tripwire of some kind, but that feeling quickly dissipated when the candy hit the ground, jar shattering and spilling the colorful contents across the floor.

Junghyun cursed into the walkie talkie before Jungkook heard the sound of running footsteps and his brother ran into the room. To his credit, he didn’t even hesitate before trying to help Jungkook pick the candy up, each of them stuffing as much as they could into their pockets. It was all going quite well until Jungkook sliced his hand on a piece of glass in his hurry to grab up the candy. The pain had been so sharp and sudden that Jungkook had immediately started to cry.

“Jungkookie, are you okay?” Junghyun had asked, dropping his candy and immediately looking at Jungkook’s hand. “Let me get the first aid kit.”

He’d hurried into their parents’ bathroom and grabbed the kit from beneath the sink before heading back to Jungkook and beginning to tend to the wound. And this was precisely how their parents caught them, sitting in a pile of colorful candy and glass, the first aid kit tipped on its side and Junghyun doing his best to treat Jungkook’s cut with his limited knowledge and experience. They’d both gotten spanked and sent to their bedrooms for the rest of the week, and Jungkook knew Junghyun had gotten a serious talking-to about his responsibilities as the first born. He supposed that talking-to must have really gotten to him, because that was the beginning of the end for their escapades as a brother duo.

The memory now sent a pang through Jungkook as he stood outside of his parents’ bedroom door, contemplating opening it. He didn’t have a lookout this time, but he supposed he was old enough now that he should be able to take on this challenge alone.

He slowly pushed the door open and peeked inside. And there, completely unbothered and at ease, lay his parents in their bed with his father snoring softly. Jungkook felt the strangest sensation then, and his mind immediately began clamoring. See that? They don’t even care anymore. They probably didn’t even notice you were gone, his inner voice chided.

Jungkook had grown rather familiar with that voice of late. It only ever seemed to shut up when he was getting in trouble or spending time with his friends, drowning it out with Yoongi’s gummy grin and Namjoon’s bumbling, but much appreciated, attempts at affection or the familiar sensation of his parents’ disappointment. Because as much as he hated to admit it, he wanted attention from his parents as much as any sixteen-year-old kid would and nothing he ever did was good enough to earn their approval, so he thrived instead on their disappointment. But it seemed he wasn’t even worth that anymore.

He felt the tears beginning to prick at his eyes and hurriedly retreated from their room, heading to his own down the hall. Only after he’d crawled under his covers did he allow himself to let any of his tears fall, each sob threatening to tear him apart from the inside out. He cried for what felt like hours but which could only realistically have been for a few minutes before he felt the urge to get up and create.

Art was a hobby of his, one he knew he was good at though his parents placed no value on it. His sketching in particular was a skill; his art teacher had told him on numerous occasions that he had a lot of raw potential and he should consider pursuing it as more than just a hobby. He hadn’t given it much thought at the time, considering that he was planning on being dead come New Year’s, but art was one of the few things that made his mind shut up, at least for a while.

He was disappointed, however, to find that his favorite sketching pencil had grown a little dull and he couldn’t find the sharpener. He turned his room upside down searching for it before deciding his best bet was likely the pack of replacement razorblades in the bathroom he shared with Junghyun. His mind was a tumbling mess, his emotions clamoring against the voices in his head, and Jungkook just wanted the quiet that came with drawing something beautiful or dark or some combination of both. His hands shook as he attempted to open the razors and when they spilled out, he quickly grabbed one and stashed the rest in a pot under the sink. Junghyun would no doubt be annoyed when he tried to find them, but Jungkook honestly couldn’t bring himself to care.

He retreated to his room, closing the door firmly behind him and grabbing his pencil. He’d never used a razor to sharpen his pencil before, but he figured it couldn’t be too difficult. A sharpener was really just a little razor surrounded by plastic for ‘safety,’ but safety was not something Jungkook was particularly concerned with in that moment.

But as he realized soon, it was much harder than he thought, especially with the alcohol in his system and the roiling mess of emotions boiling just under the surface. He figured he was getting the hang of it—his pencil was getting sharper—but it was hard work. Then, his hand slipped and the razor sliced into his finger.

Jungkook hissed in pain, dropping the razor. But instead of putting the injured digit in his mouth the way he normally would have, he found himself pausing and staring at the injury. Blood bubbled up out of the wound and spilled over. Not much, but enough, and something about the dark red liquid and the sharp pain brought a sense of calm and control. The color against his pale skin was oddly beautiful, too.
He glanced at the razor and picked it up again, setting his pencil aside for now. Why make paper art when he could make himself into a work of art?

It was possible he wasn’t thinking straight. He knew this was probably a bad idea. And yet, he couldn’t stop. He drew one line along his wrist, then another. It hurt, and the pain made his heartrate spike with adrenaline, but he liked the way the first wound dripped down into the second, the blood mixing and mingling and forming streaks against his skin. He remembered once more his brother’s careful ministrations when Jungkook had cut himself on the glass all those years ago; he missed the feeling of being loved and cared for. He missed feeling like he was something precious.

After the fourth cut, this on his other wrist and more crooked than the others due to his lack of coordination in his left hand, he heard movement in the hallway. A moment later, the sound of a flushing toilet had Jungkook standing hurriedly, grabbing some tissues off the desk so he could begin cleaning himself up. He dived into bed just as the door opened, his brother glancing in on him.

Jungkook fought to control his breathing, not wanting to let Junghyun know that he was awake. The elder hovered in the doorway a moment longer before sighing and leaving, the door clicking shut behind him.

Jungkook heaved a sigh of relief, suddenly feeling beyond exhausted. Still, he climbed out of his bed and found some disinfectant, rubbing it along the blade to clean it off before stashing it quietly in his bedside table drawer.

He slept more soundly that night than he had in a long, long time.

Chapter Text

Easy, you talk to him, Yoongi’s voice declared in Jungkook’s mind. But holy hell was that easier said than actually done.

He had come to school with the express intention of getting Jimin alone, explaining why he said what he had and apologizing (he of course didn’t expect forgiveness, but he sure would accept it if offered). But it seemed that every time he saw Jimin, he was either with Taehyung or Donghyun was hanging over him, refusing to skip school without Jungkook despite his insistence that he didn’t care what Donghyun did.

Taehyung posed the much bigger problem, though. He and Jungkook had been really close once—almost inseparable. In fact, Jungkook had fostered a major crush on him at one point in time, and he’d considered him his best friend.

When Jungkook had confessed, however, Taehyung had simply said that he was adorable and pinched his cheek. The rejection hurt more than anything up to that point in time, and it didn’t help that Jungkook was constantly at odds with his brother and parents and Taehyung kept on telling him that he shouldn’t care so much, as if Jungkook could simply turn it off. Their relationship never quite recovered and Jungkook put as much distance between them as possible after that, becoming the proverbial bad boy to Taehyung’s ‘I’m the director’s son’ clout.

And so Taehyung and Jungkook had become rivals, often vying for school popularity contests and even competing in a few of the senior’s classes that Jungkook managed to qualify for despite being two years Taehyung’s junior. Not that this fact impressed his parents overmuch, considering Junghyun had taken advanced classes too and didn’t get into trouble regularly, unlike Jungkook.

So having Taehyung between him and Jimin was like salt rubbed into a wound that had never quite healed right.

When lunch came, Jungkook thought he’d finally gotten his chance. He stepped into the cafeteria and saw Jimin sitting alone at one of the tables, a textbook set down in front of him. He looked invested in it, his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth a little as he pored over the words. He had a pencil in one of his small hands, toying with it idly, while the other hand held his chopsticks which weren’t picking up much of anything as Jimin seemed to be lost in his work. Long story short: he looked adorable.

Jungkook stared for probably a lot longer than he should have, and then Jimin looked up. Their eyes met from across the cafeteria and Jungkook’s cheeks heated at the sudden attention. This was it, his chance. He took one step forward…

And then Taehyung was there, pressing a sloppy kiss to Jimin’s cheek and throwing himself into the seat next to him. Jimin’s whole face seemed to light up at the arrival of the other, a weight seeming to lift from his shoulders as he closed the book and turned his attention to his friend.

Jungkook felt a rush of unexpected emotion: jealousy. He should be the one making Jimin smile like that; he should be the one sitting next to him, getting him to turn away from his troubles and focus instead on just being a teenager, having fun, and living life; he should be the one taking his small hand in his and pointing his pinkie up to compare the sizes of their smallest finger before descending into a puddle of side-busting laughs, causing a slight blush to appear on the blonde’s cheeks.

But you fucked it up, his inner voice sneered. If you hadn’t been such a coward in the first place and stood up for him, you would be in that place instead of Kim fucking Taehyung. Looks like you lose again, Jeon.

Jungkook’s throat tightened as he forced himself to turn away from the scene and he hurried out of the cafeteria. He dumped his food in the trash loudly on his way out, suddenly not feeling hungry.

For as long as Jungkook had been in high school, the roof had been his haven. He and the janitor had an understanding, wherein Jungkook didn’t leave trash up there and the janitor didn’t report his unauthorized access. He nodded at the janitor on his way up, and the janitor returned it subtly before turning away to continue pushing his trashcan through the halls.

Upon stepping outside, Jungkook took a seat right on the edge of the roof, climbing onto the short wall and dangling his legs over the side. It was more comfortable than the thin ledge of the bridge had been, that was for sure. Idly, he tugged his sleeves up and began itching at the scabbed over cuts on his wrists, his gaze slowly scraping across the skyline stretched in front of him.

One of the things that Jungkook loved most about the school’s roof was the unobstructed view of the bridge—his bridge—and the dark river winding underneath it. It had always seemed to be a beacon to him in his darkest moments, a promise that one day he’d be free of all the pretending, the exhausting race for his parents’ attention, the sting of rejection from his once-best-friend. But Jimin had talked him out of taking his escape, and for the first time Jungkook felt resentment towards him for that. What was the point in saving him, if in the end he never got to be the friend Jimin had hoped for?

For a wild moment, Jungkook thought about jumping off this roof’s ledge instead. It didn’t have the same artistic flair as falling into the water, slowly consumed by darkness; it would be ugly, bloody, and then the janitor who had so kindly turned away to give Jungkook his privacy would be forced to clean his brains off the sidewalk, wondering if it was his fault for not reporting the troubled teen, or even worse, being made responsible for Jungkook’s actions and losing his livelihood, one which Jungkook knew supported the children the old man kept pictures of in his wallet. No, he decided, he couldn’t do that. Not to the kind old janitor.

Plus, there was a chance his suicide would be ruled an accident and he didn’t want that. When he died, he wanted everyone to know that he’d done it to himself, on purpose, and that those who were responsible felt responsible. He wanted his parents to know, his brother to know, Taehyung…

“It’s not safe sitting there,” came a voice behind him and Jungkook turned quickly—almost too quickly—to find Taehyung standing in the doorway. His expression was carefully blank, hands held loosely at his sides. He seemed almost hesitant to approach, as if Jungkook was a dangerous animal he wasn’t sure he should get too close to. Jungkook supposed he wasn’t too wrong there.

“Who cares?” Jungkook said once he’d gotten his heartrate back under control, carefully schooling his face back into the emotionless mask he wore daily.

“I do,” Taehyung said. “Although I guess you wouldn’t believe me on that point.”

“You’re right,” Jungkook said. “I don’t.”

Taehyung sighed and moved forward, climbing onto the ledge next to him. Jungkook didn’t move to stop him, although he was mildly impressed considering Taehyung’s fear of heights. Once he was settled, they sat in silence for a moment longer.

“You know, class starts soon,” Taehyung said. “We could get in trouble.”

“Yeah, right,” Jungkook scoffed. “Your mom would let you get away with murder.”

“That’s not true, and you know it,” Taehyung said, frowning slightly. “She yells at me every day for messing things up with you. She and halmeoni are always asking if we’ve made up yet, and whether or not you’ll come over for dinner like you used to.”

“Well, that’s not happening,” Jungkook returned.

“It could, though,” Taehyung said, and his voice was almost pleading. “I miss you, Jungkookie. I miss what we had. Are you still hung up over the fact that I couldn’t return your feelings?”

“You wish,” Jungkook said. “I got over those feelings a long time ago.”

“Then what is it? What did I do? I want to make things up to you, I do, but I don’t understand what even happened,” Taehyung said.

Jungkook sighed. He wasn’t equipped to deal with this kind of discussion right now. He felt too exposed, vulnerable. He was afraid, and he wasn’t supposed to feel that way in his haven. “Why are you trying so hard, Tae? Since when do you want to patch things up? Did Jimin put you up to this?”

Taehyung blinked in surprise. “Jiminie? You know Jiminie?”

“Just forget it,” Jungkook said, standing up and hopping back onto the roof. Taehyung hurried to follow him, catching his wrist.

Jungkook hissed in pain as the fingers closed on the raw cuts, yanking his hand back. Taehyung looked surprised, but before he could open his mouth and ask, Jungkook was turning away and heading back into the school.

Taehyung hesitated before following behind him. “How do you know Jiminie? Other than when your idiot friend pinned him to the lockers, I mean.”

“None of your business,” Jungkook said.

“Do you like him? Is that why you’ve been staring at him all day? You should have come up, I think he wants to talk to you too.”

“How do you know?” Jungkook asked, turning suddenly and bringing the slightly taller boy up short. “You said you didn’t even know we knew each other. How do you know he wants to talk to me?”

“Well, I didn’t,” Taehyung said. “But whenever you’d start to come over, he would perk up a little, then deflate a little when you walked away. I just thought he was tense when you came near because he was scared of you after yesterday.”

“You think he’s scared of me?” Jungkook said, trying not to let the hurt show in his voice.

“Who wouldn’t be? You and Donghyun didn’t make the best impression on the poor kid,” Taehyung said. “But if you knew each other beforehand, why didn’t you say anything? Why were you so mean?”

“Fuck,” Jungkook groaned, running his hand through his hair and leaning back against the nearby wall, all thoughts of getting to class gone. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

Taehyung eyed his ex-best friend warily, before starting to grin. “You’re taking all of this really hard. Could it be…do you have feelings for him? Could you be a little soft for our Jiminie? The Jeon Jungkook, bad boy extraordinaire, hopelessly fallen head-over-heels for Busan-born sweetheart Park Jimin, and afraid his image will suffer for it?”

Jungkook glared. “Fuck you,” he said.

Taehyung started to laugh. “I knew it! You do, oh my god,” he said. “It was cute when you had a crush on me, but this is even better. I think I know how I’m going to finally make things up to you.”

“Don’t bet on it,” Jungkook said, though he was a little intrigued as to how Taehyung intended to do that.

“I’m going to arrange a date for you and my new partner in crime. It’s going to be beautiful, and nobody at school has to know anything about it if you don’t want them to, though you might want to talk to Jiminie about that. Say, did Yoongi and Namjoon invite you to the battle this weekend?” Taehyung asked curiously.

Jungkook’s cheeks were burning at the idea of a date with Jimin, but at Taehyung’s rather unexpected question, his expression became puzzled. “Yeah, why?”

“Because I already invited Jimin to come with me to the same battle for the dancing portion,” Taehyung said. “It’s already too perfect, I can see it now—your eyes meeting across the crowded warehouse, expressions surprised but pleased, and then you start moving through the crowds, everything else seeming to freeze around you. You’ll meet somewhere in the middle, then you’ll pull him into your arms and plant one on ‘im.”

“I…um…kind of already did,” Jungkook admitted.

Taehyung’s eyes widened. “What?”

“I kissed him. At the stroke of midnight on New Year’s. That’s how I knew him already,” Jungkook said, feeling unreasonably bashful at the second time he admitted this to anyone.

“You went to a party without me? But you never liked parties before, I had to drag you all the time…” Taehyung said, seemingly wounded, but refocused his attentions—for which Jungkook was infinitely thankful, because he didn’t know how to explain that he had not in fact gone to a party without explaining what he actually had been doing that night, and he was not ready to admit that to anyone, let alone his ex-best friend whom he still felt angry at—and shook his head. “Never mind, that’s not important now. The important thing is, I’m going to hook you up. So, make sure you wear something hot this weekend, got it?”

“Y-yeah,” Jungkook stuttered and Taehyung crooked an arm around his neck and pulled him in, rubbing his head against Jungkook’s with a boxy smile fixed on his face the way they used to when they’d been close. The familiarity of the gesture was almost painful, causing his heart to stutter in a way it hadn’t in such a long time, and Jungkook wasn’t sure what to do with this feeling.

Taehyung released him and waved behind him. “See you this weekend!” he called cheerfully, and Jungkook simply stood there wondering what the hell had just happened.

Chapter Text

Jimin’s father stood before him, his kind smile on his face as usual. For that one moment, he could forget that his father would never smile again; for that one moment, it was as if nothing had ever changed. But as Jimin reached for him, wishing to feel his arms around him once more, he turned and moved just out of reach.

Jimin tried to hurry behind him, desperation clawing at his insides because he knew how this dream ended, he knew it, and yet he could only follow the motions he always did: he chased after his father, who despite simply walking seemed to be going so much faster than Jimin’s legs could go—like he was treading water and getting nowhere.

As he watched, the floor fell from beneath his father’s feet, sending him plummeting down. Jimin managed to reach him just in time for their fingers to brush, but he couldn’t catch his hand in time. Instead, all he could do was helplessly witness his father falling through the darkness, his smile replaced by look of terror and eyes full of something else, something like accusation.

Jimin screamed, but no sound came out. Instead, he felt the same darkness that had consumed his father surging up and out of his throat. It choked his breath from him, made him heave and gasp until he was sure that he was going to suffocate.

JIMIN.

The voice sounded like his brother’s, and that more than anything was what gave him the strength to fight the darkness long enough to jolt into a sitting position in his own bedroom, his thin yellow blanket twisted up around his body and cold sweat coating his skin. He still felt as if he were choking, and he nearly fell out of his bed in his hurry to get to the bathroom, where he vomited the meager contents of his stomach into the toilet.

His whole body trembled, feeling weak and fevered in the cramped space, tears escaping his tightly clenched eyes. He didn’t hear it when his brother entered; it seemed that the accident had taken more than just their father and his brother’s voice—it had taken his footsteps as well, because quite suddenly, he felt his brother’s arms wrap around him.

And Jimin cried. He was so tired of the nightmares, tired of watching his father slip out of his hands again and again. When would it be enough? How much punishment was he expected to endure because of that fateful day?

Jihyun held him for what might have been minutes or perhaps hours, letting Jimin’s tears soak his shirt. He’d gotten so tall, Jimin realized. When had he gotten so tall? It was almost as if his father had come back from the dead, that the arms around him were his rather than those of his baby brother.

Finally returning to himself, Jimin sat back and tried to straighten out Jihyun’s ruined shirt until the younger took his hands in his and stopped his ministrations. He gave him a look of challenge and Jimin gave a wet little laugh. “Sorry,” he apologized.

Jihyun sighed and stood, tugging Jimin up off the floor and into his room. He pushed the elder onto his bed wordlessly before climbing in next to him, tugging the yellow blanket over them both. It barely fit Jimin on his own, but even with one of his legs sticking out, he felt warmer than he had in almost two years.

Maybe it was strange, two teenaged brothers cuddling in a single bed together, but it was what Jimin needed most right now. Someone who knew, who understood, and nobody would ever know or understand as much as his baby brother did. It was heartbreaking in some ways—he wished he could spare his brother that burden—but it was true.

“I heard your voice, you know,” Jimin murmured sleepily as his brother threw a lazy arm around his waist and prepared to sleep. “It woke me up from the darkness.”

Jihyun squeezed his hand, indicating that he heard and understood.

“Maybe one day, it’ll be real. Your voice saving me from the darkness, I mean. I know you’re trying your hardest to get it back and I am so, so proud of you and the progress you’ve made, Jihyun-ah. You know that, right?”

Another squeeze, and Jimin smiled lightly. But Jihyun wasn’t quite done yet. He opened Jimin’s hand and began to sign against his palm, since it was too dark to actually see the gestures.

Maybe one day, you’ll be strong enough that you won’t need to be saved from your darkness anymore.

Jimin bit his lip, mulling over the words. Could he ever be that strong? He certainly didn’t feel he could be at the moment. Here he was, getting spooned by his younger brother who had every right to resent him rather than care for him. If anyone should be receiving comfort, shouldn’t it be the one who had suffered the most? The one who was actually in the accident where their father died?

For some reason, Jungkook’s words came back to him: Yeah, he’s not worth our time.

But he wanted to be. He wanted to be strong, to be worth something.

He squeezed Jihyun’s hand. I heard. I understand.

Jimin just wished he knew how to be those things.

The warehouse looked completely abandoned, its windows boarded up and the cement structure of the building looking worn, time and weather having stripped it of beauty and leaving behind only black and dark grey stains.

“Are you sure this is the place?” Jimin asked around the growing sense of unease in his stomach. It seemed impossible that such a desolate place could be the location of what promised to be a hell of a party.

“I’m telling you, this is the place,” Taehyung said. “I’ve been here tons of times. Why don’t we go in so I can prove it?”

“Are you sure it’s safe?” Jimin asked, worrying his bottom lip. He had wanted to come and see this Hoseok dance, but the thought of being in such a dangerous place with so many people was definitely not a comforting one. He fished out his sunglasses and Taehyung arched an eyebrow when he saw them.

“It’s going to be really dark in there. If you wear those, you’ll be practically blind and then it really will be dangerous,” Taehyung pointed out.

“Oh,” Jimin said, twisting them uncertainly in his hands before sticking them back in the pocket of his coat. Maybe if it was dark enough, he wouldn’t be able to tell what was just shadows and what was genuine death phantoms.

“Don’t worry, Jiminie. I’ll protect you,” Taehyung said, pulling him into a hug. Jimin didn’t have the heart to tell him that he couldn’t protect him from this, so he just smiled and nodded, allowing the slightly younger boy to take him into the building.

At first, it was everything Jimin had expected it would be. There was dust everywhere, odds and ends spread out across the floor in what could only be described as a dangerous tripping hazard. Graffiti coated the walls, reminding him of that first night when he’d seen Jungkook moments from jumping off that bridge.

The reminder sent a familiar stab through him. He wondered if Jungkook was okay, if he’d changed his mind after deciding that night that he wasn’t ready to die, that maybe it would be his year.

But Jimin forcibly dismissed the thought from his mind—Jungkook had made it clear that he wanted nothing further to do with Jimin. It was none of his business anymore what Jungkook decided to do or if he was okay.

“Earth to Jimin,” Taehyung expressed, bringing Jimin out of his reverie.

“Huh?”

“We’re going to head downstairs now. Are you ready? It’s going to be a big night for you.”

Jimin swallowed. Taehyung had told him that he had a surprise for him at the warehouse. Jimin didn’t know what it would be, but when Taehyung had told him to dress nicely for it, it made him nervous for some reason. He’d tried to do as Taehyung said, running several outfits by Jihyun until they’d decided on a striped long-sleeved shirt, skinny jeans, a warm black coat, and some black boots. He certainly felt overdressed in the dim warehouse.

“I guess,” Jimin said with a helpless shrug.

Taehyung gave him his trademark box grin before reaching down and pulling a massive piece of wood up by a string. A ladder leading down into the darkness was beneath it, but more importantly, Jimin could hear the masses of people down there, the swell of loud music and the scent of alcohol hitting him all at once. He could hardly believe such a place existed in the same building he was standing in.

“After you,” Taehyung said.

Jimin took a deep breath before carefully lowering himself onto the ladder. The heat was instant, making him regret wearing his coat inside. There were at least a hundred people in the room he found himself in, some unknown DJ mixing beats on the raised platform that served as a stage and masses of people dancing to the music, wearing rave bracelets and glow sticks.

“Can I take your coat?” a pretty girl with dyed orange-ish hair said from her place in what was supposed to be a makeshift coat room, the coats tossed haphazardly in a pile behind her. Jimin felt some relief that he wouldn’t have to carry his coat around, because he definitely knew that it needed to come off if he was going to survive the night, and he began taking it off.

“Don’t give her the coat just yet, Jiminie,” Taehyung said, hopping the last rungs so that he landed on the ground with some dramatic flair.

“What?” Jimin asked in surprise.

“This pretty little thing is Lisa. Sophomore. She’ll take care of your coat, but not without first absconding with your wallet and anything else of value,” Taehyung said with a chuckle. “So make sure those are out of your coat pockets before you hand it over. And also, don’t forget to put your name in the collar.”

“You’re no fun, Taehyung oppa. I’m telling unnie you were being mean to me,” Lisa pouted.

“Jisoo? Yeah, she’ll take my side and you know it,” Taehyung teased before giving Jimin a somewhat proud look. “Jisoo and I have a history.”

“Gross, don’t start talking about that. When you were dating, I couldn’t stop hearing about how good you were at making out. I wanted to chop my ears off,” Lisa complained.

Jimin laughed. “They were that couple, huh?”

“Yes.” Lisa made a disgusted face. “Constant PDA, and then when they weren’t together, constant descriptions of their sex life. It was the literal worst.”

“Why did they break up?” Jimin asked conspiratorially.

Lisa giggled. “Jisoo unnie told me that oppa couldn’t…”

“And that’s enough of that!” Taehyung said, interrupting the gossip. “Just hand Jimin a marker so he can write his name in his coat, okay?”

“Fine, fine. I’ll tell you the story later.” Lisa winked at Jimin before reaching down and pulling a black sharpie out of a small basket, which she handed over to him.

Jimin shrugged his coat off, hurriedly scribbling his name on his tag before handing her the coat. Rather than toss it on the pile as he’d expected, however, she found a hanger and hung it up next to a few other coats. “Because you’re a friend of Taehyung oppa. And also because you’re extra cute,” she explained with a smile when she saw him looking curious.

Jimin blushed. “Ah, thank you,” he said.

“Speaking of which, got a girlfriend?” she asked him, batting her eyelashes at him.

“N-no. I…erm…”

“Sorry, peaches. Someone called dibs already.”

Jimin’s ears perked up at that. Who had called dibs? Or was Taehyung just lying to protect him like that first time they met?

“What? No fair! Is it you? I swear, you always take the cute ones!”

“It’s not me. I’m sworn to secrecy. But don’t worry Jiminie. You’re going to find out who it is in three…two…one…”

Taehyung grabbed Jimin’s shoulders and turned him around…just in time to see none other than Jeon Jungkook pushing his way through the crowd, a drink in his hand and a doe-eyed look of innocence on his features that made him look every bit the vulnerable young boy he hadn’t been since Jimin had started school here.

For just a second, Jimin forgot to breathe.

Chapter Text

“Hey, hyung,” Jungkook said when he finally came face to face with Jimin, and he could have kicked himself for it. Of all the things he could have said upon getting his chance, that’s what he went with? He felt like an idiot.

And when Jimin didn’t say anything immediately, Jungkook felt even more like an idiot. He had to make this better; had to explain himself, something. “Look…” Jungkook began after a deep breath.

“No,” Jimin said. “You look.”

Jungkook’s mouth snapped closed at the tone of Jimin’s voice. The elder had only ever been sweet to him, but his tone was anything but sweet in the moment, his jaw set with anger. Fire burned in those beautiful eyes and although Jungkook knew he shouldn’t, he found himself attracted to this side of Jimin.

Jimin, on the other hand, seemed to grow self-conscious—especially when he glanced at Taehyung and the oblivious idiot gave him two thumbs up as if he genuinely thought he’d done a good job—and grabbed Jungkook’s upper arm, tugging him in the direction of a quiet corner of the room. Jungkook didn’t fight back, simply allowing him to be directed wherever Jimin wanted. When they’d finally found themselves more or less alone, Jimin released him and folded his arms. “You’ve been a complete and utter asshole to me, and now what, you’re just going to say ‘hey hyung’ and expect it all to work out?” Jimin hissed.

“Well, not entirely,” Jungkook said, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand self-consciously before holding the drink in his other hand out to Jimin. “I got you this, too, to help soften the blow a little bit.”

Jimin stared at him, mouth hanging open incredulously. But then, much to Jungkook’s surprise, he accepted the drink.

He felt a grin start to form on his lips. Apparently, drinks really were the way to make something up to a person…or so he thought right up until the moment that Jimin emptied the cup over his head, drenching him in alcohol.

Jimin turned on his heel and began marching away, so Jungkook shook off his shock and chased after him. “Okay, I deserved that, but come on, Jimin hyung. I’m trying to make this up to you.”

“It’s going to take a hell of a lot more than that to make it up to me, Jeon Jungkook,” Jimin said, spinning back around. “How do you think it feels, hearing the person whose life you literally saved claim that you’re not worth anything?”

“I didn’t mean it, hyung. I was…it wasn’t like that.”

“It was exactly like that. Your friend had me pinned to a locker. He could have hurt me—he was going to hurt me—and you did nothing. You were going to act like you didn’t even know me. If Taehyung hadn’t saved me…”

“Donghyun is all talk,” Jungkook said. “He wasn’t going to hurt you. I would have done something if I thought he genuinely would have. And anyway, Taehyung isn’t exactly a saint either.”

“And yet, he’s shown more heart and understanding in the past few days than you have. What did you honestly think was going to happen tonight? I just say, ‘it’s all right that you treated me like shit, I forgive you, let’s bone?’”

“Jimin, you’ve got to understand…” Jungkook was panicking. Why was this going so badly? Yoongi had told him that all he had to do was talk to Jimin, but now that he was, nothing seemed to be going right.

“I don’t. I don’t understand how someone could be so cute, so honest, the first time we talked, and then be a complete and utter prick the next. I thought we had something. I thought you had decided to live because of me, that you might honestly have come to care about me in the course of our conversation. And then just like that, you’re someone completely different. A coward, and a liar, and an entitled brat,” Jimin lectured.

“You’re right, I am all of those things,” Jungkook said, his own anger coming to the forefront. “But that’s who I’ve always been. On the bridge, that was going to be my last day. My walls were down because I thought for once, I didn’t need them. You saved my life, but you don’t know what it’s like to be me, to live the life that I do day to day. You thought you saved a misguided but innocent soul in a moment of weakness, but in reality, you saved me—a cowardly liar and an entitled brat. You don’t get to know me for a single night and decide who I truly am, then get pissed when I turn out to be someone different. It takes more than one conversation to undo the layers and layers of bullshit that I’ve built up to survive long before you were in my life. I’m not fucking perfect, okay?”

The words had spilled out of Jungkook’s mouth against his will. He knew they would make things worse, knew he should be kissing Jimin’s ass right now rather than yelling at him, but just like that first time, Jimin stripped his walls down, laid him bare, and Jungkook couldn’t help but spill his guts.

Jimin’s mouth settled into a thin line, his eyes glimmering with tears or anger or maybe both. “So this is it, huh? This is the real you?” Jimin said, voice like ice, and Jungkook prepared himself for the worst, waited for Jimin to say the words he knew he probably deserved: I shouldn’t have saved you. You’re not worth saving.

“Yeah,” Jungkook said, fist clenching as he waited for the verdict. “This is the real me.”

“Good to know,” Jimin said instead, and just like that, he disappeared into the crowd.

Jungkook stood there, shocked and confused. What did he mean? ‘Good to know?’ Did that mean he accepted Jungkook as he was, or that he just didn’t care? He longed to chase after him—maybe that was what Jimin wanted?—but his feet refused to carry him.

On stage, the DJ announced that the dance battle portion of the night was about to start, but Jungkook barely heard it. He was drenched with alcohol, wearing long sleeves because his cuts were still healing and he, perhaps foolishly, thought Jimin would be worried if he’d seen them; he turned away, making his way to the entrance. He would just have to explain to Yoongi and Namjoon that he’d gotten sick and had to leave early; they would understand.

But Taehyung once again proved that he would always be a thorn in his side and stood at the entrance. “Well?” he asked, “How did it go?”

“Terribly,” Jungkook said tersely. “Obviously. Can’t you smell the alcohol Jimin dumped over my head?”

“Well, you probably deserved it,” Taehyung said.

Jungkook laughed bitterly and without humor. “Oh, I did deserve it. Jimin made that abundantly clear.”

“Then…” Taehyung began, reaching out and taking his face in his hands so that Jungkook had no choice but to look him in the eye. “Maybe you should work hard to deserve a better reaction, huh?”

Jungkook stared back at Taehyung, looking for any evidence of a setup in his features, but he found none. Taehyung’s voice and face were utterly sincere in a way that Jungkook hadn’t seen in a long time. It made him ache for his ex-best friend, for the relationship they used to have; for the relationship that Taehyung would now likely foster with Jimin instead because Jungkook had been an idiot. “How?” Jungkook asked around the growing lump in his throat. “What do I do? I don’t know how to be the kind of person Jimin expects me to be.”

Taehyung smiled softly, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead before letting him go. “That’s not up to me to tell you. But I will say this: I will do my best to get Jimin to open his mind to the possibility of you changing. You just gotta meet me halfway, do the work to prove you’re a better version of yourself—the you I remember from when we were kids.”

Jungkook sighed and made a disgusted face. “I hate you so much, Kim Taehyung.”

Taehyung barked out a laugh. “Love you, too, Kookie. But seriously, you can’t leave. Yoongi and Namjoon hyungs will destroy me if I let you go soaked in alcohol and heartbroken, especially if it’s before they perform.”

“I can’t just stay here, hyung,” Jungkook complained. “I feel disgusting.”

“You smell disgusting, too,” Taehyung said, making a face.

“Not helping,” Jungkook deadpanned.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Lisa has some less disgusting clothes you can borrow,” Taehyung said, pulling him towards where the girl was still sitting, digging something out from beneath her long nails with her tongue sticking out the side of her mouth.

“Kookie!” she said when she saw him, giving him a wide grin.

“Hey Lis,” Jungkook said weakly.

“You look and smell terrible,” she said. “Date didn’t go well?”

“It went…swimmingly,” Jungkook said.

“Yeah, if by swimmingly you mean swimming in alcohol and self-pity,” Taehyung sing-songed, earning a swift punch in the arm from Jungkook.

“Got any clothes back there?” he asked as Taehyung made a big show of crying at the rough treatment.

“Are you kidding? I always have clothes for you, baby boy,” Lisa said with a wink. In addition to taking wallets and valuables, Lisa had a bit of a reputation for stealing the clothes of guys she hooked up with—souvenirs, she told anyone who asked. Whenever she worked the coat room at events like this, she used the clothes to set it up, stuffing them either on the floor or on hangers, depending on how nice the hook up was.

She turned and began rifling through the clothes, muttering measurements to herself as if she’d memorized Jungkook’s precise portions—she probably had, the girl was a damn good study—and finally pulled a pair of ripped jeans and a t-shirt out to hand to him.

“Ah,” Jungkook said when he noticed the t-shirt. “Do you have a long-sleeved shirt?”

“What do you think this is, H&M?” Lisa complained. “Won’t you be too hot in a long-sleeved shirt anyway?”

“Well, I get cold really easily,” he said weakly in explanation.

“That’s weird, you used to always complain about being hot when we used to hang out,” Taehyung said.

“Well, things change,” Jungkook defended. It wasn’t true—he still ran hot—but he wanted to close this avenue of discussion as quickly as possible.

Taehyung shrugged, accepting the explanation easily enough. “Just give him a hoodie,” he said to Lisa.

“Fine,” Lisa said. “But you owe me. Hoodies are my favorite souvenirs and I only have one good one that’d fit you. Damn muscle pig.”

Jungkook laughed and accepted the hoodie when she handed it to him. “Thanks, Lis. I’ll treat you to dinner at Jin hyung’s cafe on Monday to pay you back,” he said.

“Make it dinner and dessert and you’ve got a deal,” Lisa said.

“Done,” Jungkook said, shaking her hand firmly to seal the deal.

“Great!” Taehyung said, clapping his hands together in triumph. “Now, while you go change, I’m going to see if I can find Jiminie in this mess of a crowd and do damage control. I brought him here to see Hoseok hyung dance, but now he’ll probably be miffed at me for feeding him to you.”

“I’d say sorry, but…” Jungkook said.

“Yeah, yeah. You already got punished enough, so I’ll let it slide this time,” Taehyung said. “Later!”

“Bye, hyung,” Jungkook said, sighing as Taehyung slid into the crowd. As he disappeared, Jungkook turned and headed to the bathroom to change, wishing he could have faith that everything would turn out okay in the end.

Chapter Text

The arm that came to rest across Jimin’s shoulders startled him. For a second, he thought Jungkook had come back and decided to get revenge for the drink-dumping and he clenched his eyes closed to wait for it.

“What are you doing, man?” Taehyung’s deep, velvety voice said.

“Oh, it’s you.” Jimin relaxed visibly, then suddenly punched Taehyung in the chest.

“Ow! What was that for?” Taehyung complained, rubbing the spot. Jimin hadn’t used much force, truth be told, but it was relieving to get a little revenge for being thrust into this situation so unexpectedly.

“You set me up!” Jimin said.

“Oh, right, that,” Taehyung said, then shrugged with a boxy grin. “What can I say? Jungkookie’s cute, and he liked you so…”

“That still doesn’t give you the right to…wait, did you say Jungkook likes me? He told you that?”

“Um, obviously?”

“But…”

“Jiminie, honestly. You had every right to dump the drink on his head—he needs some humility. But he definitely likes you; I’m kind of an expert on that particular subject,” Taehyung boasted.

“Oh, you have so much experience with that, do you?” Jimin said, feeling his cheeks warm. “Anyway, I already knew he liked me, but still. Did he tell you how we met?”

Taehyung shrugged. “No, not really. He did mention that you kissed on New Year’s, though really I should have heard that from you as I’m your self-appointed new best friend and all.”

Jimin laughed at the self-appointed best friend comment, but felt sadness nudge into his mind as he remembered that first night on the bridge.

Jungkook had looked so small and sad that night. Even though he was taller than Jimin, he had looked every bit the younger when the blonde had called out to him. His shadow had been so large, Jimin was sure he wasn’t going to listen. To this day, he couldn’t believe how close Jungkook’s light had come to going out.

“Well, I won’t spoil the story because it’s really Jungkook’s to tell, but I kind of saved his life that night,” Jimin said. “So that’s why I was so upset about that day with Donghyun and Jungkook. I thought, I dunno, that I mattered more than that—that I was more than just a random kiss stolen in a moment of weakness. But just as I sort of resigned myself to that, you go and throw me into his path. Why didn’t you mention he was my surprise?”

“It would have ruined the surprise, duh,” Taehyung said with a fond roll of his eyes. “And don’t think I’m going to let that ‘saved his life’ comment go, I will drag that story out of one of you guys one day, mark my words. Even if it takes until your inevitable wedding one day. Anyway, Jungkookie and I—we’ve got a lot of weird past things between us, but I can tell you that the person he is around Donghyun isn’t who he really is. You should really give him a chance to make it up to you.”

Jimin bit his lip. “I don’t know if I can take it, Tae,” Jimin admitted. “He’s so fucking cute, you know? But he’s fragile, and easily changed by whoever is around him, and I don’t…I don’t know if I can let someone in just to have them leave.”

Taehyung opened his mouth, perhaps to agree with him or maybe to convince him otherwise, but just then the dancing—the whole reason they had come here in the first place—began, and Jimin’s eyes were pulled to the stage. There were maybe eight people on stage, each dressed for ease of movement, though all clearly trendy and athletic. They did a group dance first, which pumped everyone up as they watched.

During the routine, Jimin couldn’t help but want to join in. Thoughts of Jungkook fluttered away temporarily, replaced by the desire to dance.

When everything in his life got messed up, when it all became too much to handle and he just wanted an out, Jimin danced. His worries burned away with the feeling of his muscles straining, the sweat coating his skin like armor against everything that might bring him down. His eyes easily traveled across the group, taking in their techniques, hungry to learn from all of them, but one in particular caught his eye.

He was thinner than the others, not too tall. At first glance, he wouldn’t be the one he’d expect to dominate in a hip-hop dancing competition. But there’s something about the way he moves, something in his eyes, that tells Jimin that nobody else is even in his league. That wasn’t to say that the others weren’t talented because they were—but this dancer was basically from another planet.

“That’s Hobi hyung,” Taehyung spoke smugly, startling Jimin who had somehow forgotten where he was. His cheeks reddened.

“You really think he’d teach me?” Jimin said, disbelief coloring his voice.

“Without a doubt,” Taehyung said. “He’s going to love you.”

“You haven’t even seen me dance yet. I could be terrible,” Jimin pointed out.

Taehyung laughed, pulling him close. “Somehow, I doubt that. Come on, let’s go back stage. They’ll finish their routine soon.”

Jimin obediently went along with the slightly younger boy, heart pounding in his throat. “Is this really okay?” Jimin asked for what felt like the hundredth time.

“Jiminie, you’re going to have to learn to trust me,” Taehyung teased.

But by the time they reached the backstage area through the pressing crowds, they were surprised to find Jungkook already back there, talking to one of the other dancers. The two were laughing about something Jungkook had said, and as Jimin saw the big bunny smile on the younger’s face, he felt a painful twinge in his chest.

“This had better not be another set up, Kim Taehyung,” Jimin ground out, digging his fingernails into the fleshy part of Taehyung’s arm to get his attention and draw it to Jungkook.

“Ow, ow, ow—what is your…oh, hey, Yugyeom-ah!” Taehyung said, getting the attention of the dancer Jungkook was talking to.

“Hey, hyung!” Yugyeom said just as cheerfully, giving Taehyung a hug.

“How was your trip to visit Marks’ family over the break?” Taehyung asked. Jungkook seemed to shrink when he saw Jimin, the smile slipping from his face, but he made no attempts to talk to him. He did, however, offer a small wave.

“It was fun,” Yugyeom said. “Mark’s family are really nice. They were really kind to all of us, but I think they were partial to BamBam. I don’t know what it is, but everyone just wants to feed and baby him all the time.”

“It’s his sleek huggable design,” Jungkook pointed out. “He’s so small that he’s practically irresistible.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to resist, because need I remind you that he’s all mine?” Yugyeom teased. “Besides, I’m cute too, and younger than both of you, so where’s my love?”

“Please, you’re like a giant so age is irrelevant. And anyway, BamBam is safe from me. There’s someone else I’m trying to convince to give me a chance,” Jungkook said, eyeing Jimin in a way that made him blush fiercely.

He was saved from having to make a response by the arrival of the dancer he’d come here to meet in the first place. He was sweating, but he didn’t look tired at all, his body exuding energy like a nuclear reactor of positivity as he all but flung himself on Taehyung, squeezing the other with a ferocity that looked pretty much backbreaking though Taehyung himself looked as if he’d never been happier. After hugging Taehyung, Hoseok moved over to ruffle Jungkook’s hair, though the younger tried to bat his hand away.

“It’s been too long since I last saw you, Kookie! You and Taehyung finally make nice?” Hoseok asked.

“It’s a work in progress,” Jungkook said, cheeks brightening a little. “But…yeah, I guess we’re okay.”

Taehyung gave him a cheeky grin of gratitude.

“Good! I was starting to get jealous of Namjoonie and Yoongi hyung keeping you all to themselves since your little tiff with Tae. Will you start dancing again?”

“I’ll think about it,” Jungkook answered evasively, and Jimin wondered how much dancing he did, if he was any good, then tried to tell himself not to care, instead focusing on the dancer.

Hoseok seemed quite a bit different from the persona he’d worn on stage, which had been full of hard edges and sleek choreography. This guy he was seeing now was pretty much the personification of the sun.

“Taehyungie! You brought a friend?” Hoseok said, finally noticing Jimin.

“Yeah, he’s a dancer, too! Hobi hyung, meet Jiminie. Jiminie, meet Hobi hyung,” Taehyung introduced them.

Jimin bowed briefly. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said quickly, but Hoseok made a high-pitched noise before reaching over and pinching his cheeks.

“You’re so cute!” he gushed.

“You’re going to scare him off, hyung,” Yugyeom pointed out.

“Nonsense,” Hoseok said. “If he survived Taehyungie, he can survive me. What kind of dancing do you do, Jiminie?”

“Um, mostly contemporary, but I’ve been wanting to branch out and learn more hip-hop,” Jimin answered.

“Hoseok is the best hip-hop teacher I’ve ever had,” Yugyeom said. “You should stop by the studio some time.”

“Right!” Hoseok said cheerfully. “First time’s free and every time after that is discounted for my friends—though don’t tell my mom that.”

Jimin laughed. “Thank you, I’ll definitely stop by,” he said.

“Well, now that that’s settled, I need to go get some water and freshen up,” Hoseok said.

“You’re rapping tonight?” Taehyung asked curiously.

“Yeah, Yoongi hyung convinced me,” Hoseok replied.

“With his body?” Taehyung said, waggling his eyebrows. Jimin wondered who Yoongi was; he’d heard his name several times now but had yet to meet the man belonging to it. Were he and Hoseok boyfriends?

Hoseok reached out and grabbed Taehyung in a headlock. “Just for that, I’m dragging you up there with me and you’re going to embarrass yourself so bad trying to rap. See you guys after?”

“Yeah, see you hyung. Tell Namjoon and Yoongi that I said hi,” Jungkook said.

“You’re not gonna stay and talk to them yourself?” Yugyeom asked curiously.

“Nah, after the battle I’ve got to hurry home. Junghyun is actually picking me up today, unless something else comes up,” Jungkook said, glancing briefly at Jimin before looking away.

Jimin didn’t know how to interpret that look, so he chose not to even try, swallowing hard against the feelings of uncertainty battling within him. He wondered if maybe he should hurry home as well, ask his little brother for advice.

Because on the one hand, he was trying to stand up for himself and be strong for a change, avoiding someone that had already hurt him and could easily do it again and again if Jimin let him; on the other, Taehyung insisted that Jungkook was better than that and that he should give him a try, and it seemed that no matter what he did, there was no actually escaping Jungkook if everyone he was befriending already had befriended the troubled boy.

What could he do?

Yugyeom said his goodbyes, heading out towards the crowd with a smaller male that he decided must be that BamBam he’d heard mentioned before—he really was tiny and cute—and Hoseok dragged Taehyung further backstage.

And just like that, Jimin was alone with Jungkook.

“Jiminie hyung,” Jungkook said quietly.

Jimin sighed. “Really? You’re going to try again? You’re lucky I don’t have another drink.”

Jungkook didn’t rise to the bait, however. “No, I’m not going to try again. Not yet, anyways. I just want you to know, I’ll do whatever it takes to get you to forgive me. I don’t care how long it takes.”

“What if it takes forever?”

“Then it’ll take forever. I’m trying, hyung. I really am.”

Jimin held Jungkook’s gaze, gauging how serious he was being. But he knew Jungkook enough now to know that how sincere he was now couldn’t really predict his sincerity later. “I believe you, Jungkookie,” Jimin said.

“So you’re saying you’ll forgive me?” Jungkook said hopefully.

“No,” Jimin answered slowly. “I’m saying I’ll let you try.”

And before Jungkook could say anything else, Jimin offered him a small smile and slipped back out into the crowd. It took everything in him not to look back.

Chapter Text

The rap battle went about how Jungkook expected it to: Namjoon, Yoongi, and Hoseok all slayed it while Taehyung made a damn fool of himself in front of everyone—basically, it was everything Jungkook wanted to see.

And yet, it did nothing to fill the odd void in his chest. He began to itch for some kind of release, some way to escape the way his skin felt stretched too thin across his bones, the intense feeling that he was suffocating in the clothes he’d borrowed. He was plagued by crescent eyes and a carefree laugh, small hands and pale golden hair touched by moonlight and halogen lamps.

It hurt, too, because everyone around him seemed so at ease and happy. He saw Yugyeom and BamBam sharing a plate of loaded fries near the bar, laughing as BamBam smeared nacho cheese across Yugyeom’s chin and Yugyeom made some joke about how the other would have to clean it off now; he caught a flash of movement as Yoongi dragged Hoseok just out of sight now that the battle was over, no doubt to make out in the supply closet backstage. Even Namjoon, whose crush wasn’t here, could be seen laughing and messing around with Yugyeom’s hyungs Jackson and Mark without a care in the world.

Then there was Jimin and Taehyung, who were bent close to each other, whispering in each other’s ears to be heard over the din of the underground club. Jimin laughed at something Taehyung said, hitting the other across the arm before covering his mouth to try and stifle his giggles. It was too far for Jungkook to actually hear the laugh, but it sent a wave of jealousy and pain through him nevertheless. He knew Taehyung wasn’t trying to hurt him, but it still ached, seeing the person he used to love conversing with the person he was developing feelings for, all with an ease that Jungkook desperately envied.

And all because he had fucked it up himself.

He was happy that Jimin had been willing to give him a chance to make it up to him, but now Jungkook had a really big problem ahead of him. How, exactly, could he go about that? Scenarios from every romantic movie and drama flashed through his mind, cliché after cliché presenting itself only to be discarded because there was no way any of them would work in real life.

Sighing heavily, Jungkook turned away from the painful sights of everyone enjoying themselves without him and headed to the door. No doubt Junghyun was waiting, and it was all too clear that he had no reason to stay. He’d even told Yugyeom he’d be leaving if nothing else (namely Jimin deciding to go on a walk with him or something to give him the chance to explain himself better or at least so they could get to know each other more) came up, and of course nothing had. So, what was the point in lingering?

He flashed Lisa a small, false smile as he left, ignoring the way she frowned in response, obviously wanting to ask him what was wrong.

As expected, Junghyun was waiting in the parking lot. The glow of his phone lit up his face, throwing it into sharp relief. For a second, Jungkook could see what appeared to be exhaustion on his features, mouth turned down in a frown instead of the perfectly congenial expression he wore normally. But as soon as Jungkook tugged open the door and flopped down into the passenger seat, the expression returned.

“You smell like a brewery,” Junghyun commented as he started up the car and began to pull out. “How much did you drink down there?”

“I didn’t drink anything, hyung,” Jungkook complained.

“Then what did you do, wear it?” Junghyun asked, trying to be funny. Jungkook really wasn’t in the mood.

“Yes,” he answered tersely.

“Ahh. Let me guess: a girl rejected your advances?” Junghyun asked, mouth turning up in a teasing smile. It hurt because it reminded Jungkook of old times, when he actually had a brother instead of a robot that was obsessed with politics and people pleasing.

“Can we drop the caring brother act for a second? You don’t have to pretend to give a shit; I’m not one of your constituents,” he said.

The smile on Junghyun’s face faltered abruptly. “Kook-ah…”

“Really, hyung. I don’t want to talk about it,” he said.

Silence fell over the car, Jungkook leaning his head against the window and folding his arms. The coolness of the glass against his forehead was soothing after the heat of the warehouse and he closed his eyes.

“You know,” Junghyun said a moment later, his voice stopping Jungkook from falling asleep. “If you show an interest in what the person you like is into, they might be more inclined to like you back. Show them they’re worth the effort.”

Jungkook opened his eyes and stared at his brother, but Junghyun’s bespectacled gaze was steadfastly latched onto the road. He was so focused that for a moment, Jungkook wasn’t sure that he had actually spoken.

Nevertheless, the words reminded him of earlier. Jimin was a dancer; Hoseok had invited him to his dance class, too, which meant he had a chance here. He knew precisely when and where to catch Jimin that wouldn’t be at school or some other place where he’d be tempted to fall into old habits—a place where Jimin would be more comfortable, too.

Not to mention Hoseok had been trying to get him to get back into dancing. He’d started it a few years ago as a means to keep himself out of trouble, but had stopped going when he and Taehyung had gotten into a fight because he knew Taehyung was close with Hoseok and it was inevitable that they’d run into each other there. It would no doubt be a fight with his parents, who found dancing to be almost as much a waste of time and money as art, but he knew he could convince them as long as he continued to do well in track.

That decided, Jungkook settled deeper into the passenger seat and allowed the quiet in the car to settle him into a comfortable doze.

It was late by the time Taehyung dropped Jimin in front of his house. Taehyung had offered to let him stay the night, but Jimin had refused on the grounds of not wanting to put him or his family to any trouble on his behalf. Taehyung promised that it wasn’t a problem, but Jimin was steadfast in his decision. It was silly, perhaps, but he just didn’t want to bother anyone.

And maybe a part of him was just afraid that he’d end up sleepwalking while there, making them worry. His own family was used to his peculiarities, but he wasn’t quite sure he was ready for those same peculiarities to crop up around his new friends just yet.

He wasn’t sure he ever would be.

“Are you really sure, Jiminie? It’d be fun to have a sleepover. I haven’t had one in so long,” Taehyung pouted.

“I’m sure, Taehyungie,” Jimin replied, offering a small smile in apology. “Maybe next time.”

Taehyung brightened up. “Promise?”

Jimin bit his lip, but at the hopeful expression on Taehyung’s face he just couldn’t help but nod. “Promise,” he said, already cursing himself for agreeing. His best hope would be for Taehyung to forget about this whole thing.

But the massive hug he gave Jimin despite the seatbelts clinging to both of them made Jimin keenly aware that that was unlikely to happen. Still, he smiled and returned the hug before climbing out of the vehicle. “Drive safe,” he told his friend, and then began making his way up the walk to his house.

He was still smiling when he slipped into the door, nudging off his shoes before making his way towards the kitchen to look for some food.

“You’re late,” a sharp voice cut in and he startled so badly that he nearly fell. She was standing in the hallway with her arms folded, face pinched in an angry expression that did nothing to quell his fear.

“Eomma,” he breathed. “You scared the life out of me. What are you doing up so late?”

“Imagine how I felt when I woke up for a glass of water and found my eldest son not in his bed. Tell me, how is a mother supposed to sleep after that?” she continued.

A part of Jimin honestly thought she would actually be happy to wake up and find him gone for good. Then again, maybe she was just annoyed that she might have had to hunt him down, as he was still technically her responsibility. At least until he graduated from high school.

“I’m sorry, eomma. I honestly thought you wouldn’t mind,” Jimin answered honestly.

“And I suppose it would be too much of an inconvenience to let me know you were going to be out late?” she continued scathingly.

Jimin sighed. “The last time I called to let you know I was going to be home late, you told me, and I quote ‘I don’t care what you do, just don’t expect me to save you any dinner.’”

The words were out of his mouth before he really had time to consider them. They were true enough, but throwing his mother’s own words back at her never worked out for him and he knew the minute he saw her face that he had fucked up.

“I have never seen a more disrespectful son in all my life. Do you really hate me so much? I’ve tried my best to take care of you and Jihyun, to make sure you both had everything you needed—with almost no help from you, might I add, despite you now being the man of the house—and this is how I’m repaid?” She spat the words like venom, and each one of them found its home in Jimin’s chest.

“I…” Jimin began, his hands moving up in a defensive position.

“If your father were here, if he saw the kind of man you became, he would be ashamed. You’re a disgrace, a black mark on our good family name. You took your father away from me and now here you are, toying with my feelings and disappearing without so much as a word,” she continued, the tears starting to fall from her eyes. She scrubbed at them furiously as she spoke, and this…this was the worst part.

There was nothing in this world that wounded Jimin so fully as seeing his mother cry because of him, no matter if what he’d done was intentional or not. He was moving to her side even as she hurled her abusive words at him, pulling her into his arms. He let her shove and push at him, feeling his own eyes tear up, but he didn’t let her go. He held her until the fight left her body and she slumped against him.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I’ll try and be a better son from now on.”

“I never asked for this…I just m-miss him so much…”

“I know,” Jimin said. “Me too.”

As Jimin held his crying mother, he saw the soft shadow of his brother slip back into his bedroom and felt a rock settle in the pit of his stomach. So much for being strong and standing up for myself, he thought bitterly, but he couldn’t do it; he just couldn’t hate his mother, no matter how hard he tried.

He just wished Jihyun understood that more.

Chapter Text

Jungkook toyed with the new leather straps he’d bought to adorn his wrists as he waited for Lisa to join him for dinner (and dessert) at Jin’s café Monday evening after school. The straps were an impulse buy, brought on by his newfound (and admittedly destructive) habit of drawing lines on his wrists with razorblades.

Lisa bounced through the door, cheeks and nose flushed from the cold. She spotted Jungkook easily, making her way over and plopping her bags onto the table. “You’re late,” Jungkook couldn’t help but tease.

She stuck her tongue out at him. “I had to go shopping.”

“Oh? What for?” Jungkook asked, trying to peer into the bags.

“Hasn’t your mother ever taught you not to look at a lady’s unmentionables?” Lisa huffed.

“I don’t know, are you a lady?” Jungkook teased right back.

“Okay, friendship cancelled,” Lisa declared, making to stand up.

Jungkook, chuckling, reached up and took her hand, pulling her back down. “Sorry, sorry. But you walked right into that one,” he said.

“Fair enough,” Lisa said, giving him a full smile. “But if you must know, I had to buy a few new dance things. You’re going to Hoseok’s class this week, right?”

“He told you?” Jungkook asked, blinking in surprise. “I didn’t know you and Hoseok hyung talked much.”

“Hey, we went on one date and kissed before deciding we didn’t wanna pursue anything further—not everyone is as awkward as you when things don’t pan out. Speaking of, how’s Jimin?” Lisa gave him a look that told him she knew exactly what she was doing by bringing that up.

Jungkook frowned. “Great. He’s perfectly happy, always clinging to Taehyung. I spent all day trying to get his attention—at great risk to my reputation I’ll have you know—and all he said back was ‘Hey, Jungkook-ssi.’ I mean, what does that even mean?”

Lisa giggled. “It means he’s obviously not forgiven you after two days. What a shocker. And you really need to get over that reputation. It’s not a good look.”

“I don’t know how to be anything else. Nobody gets that,” Jungkook said with a pout.

“Aw…you’re too cute, Kookie. He’s got you all twisted up, huh?”

“Yes,” he answered petulantly.

“Take it from me: reputations are a double-edged sword. They’re comfortable because they’re familiar, but when you really get down to it, all they do is hurt,” Lisa said.

“Your reputation is different though. They say you’re slutty and sleep around too much—it’s negative and mean. Mine is that I’m cool and nobody messes with me, and I like that,” Jungkook said. It wasn’t true. He didn’t like that; he hated pretending, hated being something that he wasn’t. But at the same time, it really did feel like it protected him. As long as he was a bad boy, nobody tried to hurt him. Then again, nobody tried to get close to him or love him either, and wasn’t loneliness one of the things that drove him to that bridge?

“First of all, why is sleeping around always considered a negative thing? Second of all, is that what you really think your reputation is?” Lisa asked, giving him a look that made him distinctly uncomfortable.

“Isn’t it?”

“Oh, Kookie.” Lisa reached across the table and took his hand, which did nothing to quell the unease swirling in the pit of his stomach. “That’s not what people actually say or think. To them, you’re a bully. You walk around the school with zero respect for authority and others, pushing your will on everyone and beating up those who get in your way.”

“I’ve never beaten anyone up in my life!” Jungkook squawked indignantly.

“No, but people who cross you have a tendency of getting hurt. It’s that friend of yours, the ugly mean one—Donghyun. But people don’t know that—they look at you as a package deal, and there hasn’t been any evidence to contradict it. Take Tae for instance…”

“What about Tae?” Jungkook asked, feeling as if his world was imploding. This was not what he thought he was in for when he agreed to have dinner and dessert with Lisa. She was supposed to make him feel better, not worse.

“When you first had that falling out, he tried to make it up to you. Then Donghyun and a couple of his brothers cornered him behind the school. He was out for days,” Lisa said seriously.

Jungkook felt his stomach swoop. “I heard he went on an impromptu vacation with his dad and grandma,” Jungkook said. “You’re telling me he was actually hurt that whole time?”

Lisa nodded. “So, after that, Taehyung started avoiding you as much as you were avoiding him and people noticed. They assumed you were behind it the whole time.”

“I’m gonna kill Donghyun,” Jungkook said, nearly breaking his plastic spoon.

“Hey, hey, we aren’t animals. We take care of our cutlery here!” Jin said, swooping in and taking the bent spoon away from Jungkook. “What’s wrong with you?”

Jungkook blushed. “Sorry, hyung.”

“Bunny doesn’t know his own strength,” Lisa commented, looking cheerful once more. Jungkook assumed that meant their serious discussion was over, though he didn’t think he’d be able to forget what he’d found out any time soon.

“Evidently not. What can I get for you, baby girl?” Jin said kindly.

Lisa beamed. “You’re so sweet to me, Jin oppa~ Can I get some of your famous cheesecake?”

“Of course, but you need to have dinner first. How about some delicious pasta?”

“Ohh, yes please!” Lisa said, clapping her hands.

“And you?” Jin said, almost coldly and Jungkook pouted.

“Don’t hold it against me, hyung. I was just upset ‘cause of what Lisa told me. I’ll get Joon to come and visit; will you forgive me then?”

Jin relaxed. “Kook-ah, you really are daft sometimes. I’m not upset about the spoon. Do you know how long it’s been since you actually came here?”

“Oh.” Jungkook blinked. How long had it been? “A while?”

“Yes, a while,” Jin snapped. “Far too long. I worry about you, you know? It felt like you were forgetting your eldest hyung—and after I raised you on my back!”

“No, I promise it wasn’t like that! I just got…busy, you know? With track and…” And trying to distance yourself from your friends, thinking it would hurt less when you killed yourself. Jungkook swallowed, not needing that guilt right now. “And you know. Stuff.”

“Stuff! And you mean to tell me you haven’t seen Joon or Yoongi in all that time, either?” Jin said.

“Well, not really. I mean, I saw them last week? And this weekend, but that was just to watch the battle. I promise, I’ll come visit more often.”

“You better. Because I love you. You know that, right, Kookie?”

The guilt intensified, but it was offset by just how much he’d needed to hear something like that right now. At least there were some people that didn’t think he was an absolute villain. “I love you, too, hyung. I’m sorry.”

Jin smiled and pinched his cheek. “There’s my youngest baby. You tell my older babies to come and visit, too, okay?”

“Got it,” Jungkook said, offering a genuine smile at his hyung.

“So, what’ll it be?”

“Hamburger and fries, please! I’m starving.”

“Coming right up,” Jin said, giving him one last smile and a hair ruffle before he hurried to the back to put their orders in.

“Hey, Kookie?” Lisa said, tentatively.

“Hm?” Jungkook said, not realizing he’d started chewing on his lip worriedly.

“Your friends don’t believe any of your reputation, okay? We all know and love you. But give Jimin some time—let him know the real you—and he’ll come around,” she said.

Jungkook hoped she was right. He supposed he’d find out how close he was to getting forgiven on Thursday, when Hoseok’s dance classes were held.

One would think the stench of sweat that filled every dance studio or gym would be unpleasant or even downright disgusting, but to Jimin, the smell was home. It had been far too long since he’d stepped foot in a place like this, but he immediately felt at ease. Especially when Hoseok greeted him with a cheerful grin and a tight hug, as if they’d been friends forever.

And honestly? It felt like they had.

“Who all takes this class?” Jimin asked curiously as he set his bag down next to Hoseok’s in the corner of the studio. He was the first one to arrive, which he blamed on his eagerness to get here and make a good impression, so the studio was empty except for him and Hoseok.

“There’s only a couple regulars, like Yugyeom, BamBam, Lisa and her friends... Jungkook, too, though he hasn’t come in a while; and of course, Taehyung likes to come just to watch and might join in every now and then. There’s always a few drop-ins or first-timers, people who come only when they have the time or inclination. I’ve even gotten Yoongi, Namjoon, and Jin hyung in here before, though they aren’t really big on dancing. They’re pretty good despite that, though.”

“Are you and Jungkook close?” Jimin asked, trying not to be too obvious in his interest as he started to stretch.

“We used to be really close,” Hoseok said, giving him a small smile that made Jimin think he wasn’t getting away with anything here; Hoseok was just too smart. “But after he and Taehyung fought, he started to drift. Not just from me, but everyone. Don’t tell him I said so, but we’ve had quite a few family meetings about him.”

Jimin nodded, not surprised by this information. He didn’t know how to tell his new friend that he was right to worry without breaking Jungkook’s confidence—though a part of him wasn’t sure why he cared about that, after what Jungkook had done—so he simply carried on with his stretches until Hoseok touched his arm to get his attention.

“You know he’s not really a jerk, right?” Hoseok said imploringly. “He’s really a good guy. He’s just…really, really bad at feelings.”

Jimin snorted. “Tell me about it. But I know he’s not terrible. I just don’t want to get hurt, so until he can figure out how to separate himself from whatever bad-boy persona he’s obsessed with maintaining, I’m keeping him at arm’s length.”

“Kookie needs people. He pushes them away, but at the end of the day, he just wants people to care. I’ve tried, we all have, but somehow there’s always this wall between us. I know I’ve only just met you, but something tells me that if anyone can break through that wall, it’s you.”

“You’re right,” Jimin said, perhaps more shortly than he intended. “You have only just met me.”

Hoseok retracted his hand as if he’d been burned, but Jimin quickly reached out to grab it, giving him a soft smile and squeezing his fingers gently. “I know you mean well, hyung. Just…maybe don’t put all that on me just yet, okay? I’m a person too, and he hurt me. Is it so wrong of me to want to protect myself?”

“Of course not, Jiminie,” Hoseok said, smiling apologetically. “Sorry about that. I guess I let my worry for an old friend get in the way of taking care of my new one.”

“No worries,” Jimin said. He glanced at the doorway, then leaned forward conspiratorially, “But between the two of us, he’s cute enough that I might forgive him soon. Just don’t tell him that, yeah?”

Hoseok laughed and whatever tension had been between them dissipated. The two warmed up together, Jimin showing Hoseok a little of what he could do. The elder all but gushed, saying he might be his most impressive student yet.

Jimin didn’t know if he meant it, but he couldn’t stop the blush that invaded his cheeks at the compliment—which prompted Hoseok to squish him in a massive hug, screaming about how cute he was.

The other students began arriving then. Lisa first, along with a girl that was so incredibly pretty that even Jimin, gay as he was, couldn’t help but develop a small crush on her; Lisa introduced her as Jennie.

“Where’s Chae and Jisoo?” Hoseok asked them.

“They’ll come next time, they promise. Chae got caught up at home, and Jisoo is volunteering with Jinyoung at the clinic,” Jennie answered.

Hoseok accepted the explanation with a nod, but before he could say anything, their next arrivals came. It was Yugyeom and his boyfriend BamBam, who all but tackled Lisa when he entered. The two were obviously close, and Yugyeom’s exasperated smile told Jimin he was used to third-wheeling with the besties.

“So, you’re the pretty new boy Lisa was all but gushing about yesterday,” Jennie said, startling Jimin out of his skin. He hadn’t even heard her come up beside him. She laughed at him as he held a hand to his pounding heart. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s okay—I’m just really jumpy apparently,” Jimin laughed. “But yeah, I’m Park Jimin. My reputation precedes me, I guess, though I’m not sure why. Don’t you guys get new people all the time?”

“Well, yeah,” Jennie said, “But most of them don’t get adopted by the ever-popular and gossipy Kim Taehyung, and even fewer of them are half as cute as you are.”

“No, no, Jennie. I told you, he’s off limits,” Lisa said, peeking out from BamBam’s hold.

Jimin huffed. “Why does everyone keep saying that? I’m not ‘off limits.’ Taehyung just tried to set me up with Jungkook—without my knowledge, might I add—and suddenly it’s a whole thing. I’m not dating anyone, okay? Especially not Jeon Jungkook.”

After his brief tirade, there was a stifling sort of silence that made Jimin feel incredibly uncomfortable. With dread, he turned to find the devil himself standing in the doorway, holding a gym bag and looking like a whole meal in his black athletic gear.

For a second, Jimin was afraid he’d hurt Jungkook’s feelings—which he assumed everyone else was thinking, judging by the tense silence—but then Jungkook gave a small, almost self-conscious smile. “What’s everyone staring at me for? We’re here to dance, right?”

Chapter Text

Dancing. It was something that Jungkook had always loved and something he was good at, but he’d let his parents convince him that it was a waste of time, like so much of the things he loved.

Watching Jimin, though, it was something else entirely. It was clear that it was everything to him, that he danced the way other people breathed. He moved like water, like air, each movement filled with purpose but light—as if nothing could bring him down, like negativity would just pass right through him.

If he really did get plagued by shadows of death like Jimin told him that first night, they couldn’t touch him now.

As he watched, Jungkook felt something stirring in his gut—no, his chest. It was feeling, pure and real and Jimin.

“Careful, Kook. Your whipped is showing,” BamBam whispered in his ear. He elbowed the slightly older boy, unable to keep his cheeks from turning bright red.

As the music fell away, Jimin stilled, breaths coming in puffs as he slowly came back into himself. His eyes were watery, like he was trying not to cry. But the moment passed, and it was just Jimin, smiling self-consciously.

“Well?” Jimin asked, obviously looking for praise, and who was Jungkook to deny him that?

“That was amazing, hyung!” Yugyeom spoke before Jungkook could say the exact same thing. As if on cue, everyone flooded Jimin at once, clapping him on the back or ruffling his hair or begging for tips.

Only Lisa and BamBam remained behind, exchanging concerned looks as BamBam patted his back comfortingly.

“You’ll get your chance, buddy,” the male Thai native said.

“Yeah!” Lisa agreed, giving him a bright smile of reassurance and a side-hug before she and BamBam bounced off to give their congratulations to Jimin as well.

Jungkook tried to share their optimism, but it was hard. Everyone else got along with Jimin so easily and he could tell that he was really enjoying all the positive attention he was getting. What could Jungkook do to compete with that?

This whole dance class idea suddenly didn’t seem like such a fool-proof plan. Hoseok’s classes were too popular, containing too many outgoing people whose lights shone so clearly while his own seemed to diminish day by day.

His wrists itched, imploring him to make his escape now while everyone was busy so he could see to them in private.

Jungkook was turning towards the door almost unconsciously when Jimin’s musical voice suddenly called out. “What? Running away already? Hoseokie and TaeTae said you were good. Maybe they were mistaken?”

It was precisely the right thing to say as Jungkook’s need to get away was quite suddenly replaced with a competitive need to show off and make Jimin eat his words.

“Oh, they weren’t mistaken,” Jungkook said with a smirk. “I won every competition I ever competed in.”

Granted, that had only been three of them—all of which had been rookie competitions and he’d only been thirteen or fourteen at the time—but it was still an accomplishment he was quite proud of.

“Yeah?” Jimin said, arching an eyebrow. “Prove it.”

“Hyung,” Jungkook barked at Hoseok and the elder tried to hide a smile as he went over to the stereo.

“You sure about this, Kook-ah? It has been a while since you practiced,” Hoseok said in a mock-concerned tone.

“Please, I don’t need to practice. They call me golden for a reason,” Jungkook answered with characteristic cockiness.

Hoseok’s bark-like laughter filled the studio. “We’ll see about that,” he said, then turned the music on.

A familiar hip hop beat filled the room as Jungkook took his place. Everyone else moved aside to give him his space, and just like that, he did his best to let the music take over the way it seemed Jimin had.

Freestyle had always been Jungkook’s favorite. He could execute choreography flawlessly of course, but it never quite carried the same level of passion or sense of abandon that came with freestyling, of just letting your limbs do what they wanted to rather than freaking out over whether his counts were right or if he’d shifted his weight just so.

His moves instead were sharp and powerful, sweat already starting to form on his brow—though maybe some of that heat came from feeling Jimin’s gaze upon him.

For his part, Jungkook did his best to keep his own eyes locked upon Jimin, putting everything he felt out on the dance floor, so to speak. He only broke away when he had to execute a particularly difficult turn, and even then his eyes snapped back to Jimin’s, daring him to be the first to fully look away. He didn’t, mouth hanging slightly open in what Jungkook hoped was awe.

But just maybe, the younger male overestimated himself a little. It had been a long time since he’d moved his body like this and already his muscles were beginning to strain. Even so, he refused to give up.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew that he didn’t have the stamina to keep going much longer, so in his mind, he compromised: One last trick, just to make sure Jimin wouldn’t easily forget what Jungkook was capable of.

Hoseok seemed to realize what he intended to do the second before Jungkook put it into action. His eyes widened. “Jungkook…” he began warningly, but it was too late.

Jungkook was in the air before Hoseok even began the second syllable of his name, and he was on the floor two seconds after he finished the whole thing.

The flip had been his signature move, one he’d spent weeks perfecting before his first competition. Then, he’d had a soft mat beneath him and hours of logged practice time. Not so much now.

He landed rather badly on his tailbone, pain lancing up his spine. To his merit, he managed to jump back up a second later, running around in an attempt at the old ‘walk it off’ adage.

Everyone was laughing uproariously, no doubt due in great part to his cocky bragging beforehand (really, Jungkook was his own worst enemy in so many ways) and he did his best to laugh along, even gripping his butt and giving a loud scream of ‘pain’ to add to the comic value of it. It wasn’t like he’d just made a complete idiot of himself in front of his crush…except that was precisely what he had just done.

He tried valiantly to pass off the tears that formed in his eyes as those of mirth and not of pain—or more accurately, embarrassment, because more than the physical pain of a bruised tailbone, he felt the bitter agony of a blow to his ego.

When he’d stopped jogging around and instead was just switching foot-to-foot while everyone regained their composure (moving seemed to alleviate the discomfort somewhat), Hoseok came and clapped him on the back. “You okay there, Kook?” he said, eyes dancing with mirth.

“Just fine, hyung,” he said, wincing a little. Okay, so maybe the pain wasn’t all about the lost dignity—his tailbone really hurt! Not that he’d admit as much right now. His pride was wounded enough for one day. “Wanna kiss my ass and make it better?”

“Yah, you’re such a brat,” Hoseok said in good imitation of Yoongi hyung, making a face at him before ruffling his hair and then moving past him to get everyone wrangled together.

The time for showing off had ended, and now it was time for class. Hoseok didn’t pull any punches—he never did—pushing them all past their limits with his complex choreography and eye for detail.

By the end of it, they were all sweating, but Jungkook was just doing his best to keep it together. The pain in his tailbone had gone from mild discomfort to full-blown agony. He was actually thankful for the sweat because it hid the fact that he had definitely let a few tears slip out somewhere between rounds seven and eight of the choreo.

Finally, the class came to an end and everyone flopped to the ground in varying states of exhaustion, taking a moment to cool down, drink water, and chat with one another before they would all go their separate ways for the night.

Jungkook was laying on the ground, hands covering his face as he tried to breathe through his pain. Nobody was really paying attention to him, and he was grateful for it in the moment. At least, until someone dropped a cold water bottle on his chest.

Startled, he looked up to see Jimin giving him a disapproving look. “Wh-what?” Jungkook gasped.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Jimin asked him.

“About…?” Jungkook hedged.

“You’re hurt, you idiot!” Jimin hissed.

“Shh!” Jungkook shushed. “I don’t want them to know.”

“And why not?” Jimin demanded, although he did make his voice quieter, sitting down cross-legged next to Jungkook in order to close the distance between them somewhat.

“Because it’s embarrassing,” Jungkook whined. “And besides, it’s not that bad.”

“Oh yeah? Then why don’t you get up and prove it?”

Jungkook opened his mouth, but closed it promptly. He didn’t think he could without some help. His pride wasn’t going to survive the night, he was sure of it.

“That’s what I thought,” Jimin said smugly, but his expression softened. “You didn’t have to show off, you know.”

“What do you mean?” Jungkook asked.

“I mean, you don’t have to try to impress me in order to get my forgiveness,” Jimin replied, as if talking to a particularly dumb child. Maybe he wasn’t too far off. “Besides, I was already plenty impressed before the botched flip.”

At first, Jungkook wasn’t sure he’d heard the second half of that statement correctly. Maybe all the dancing had addled his brain. But once the shock wore off, his expression brightened, eyes widening with joy. “I impressed you?”

“You’re missing the point!” Jimin huffed, though there was a fondness in his voice.

“I dunno, Jiminie, I think I heard the point exactly right,” Jungkook teased. “You think I’m impressive.” He waggled his eyebrows for added effect.

“You’re impossible,” Jimin said, slapping Jungkook’s chest playfully, his cheeks tinged a light pink. The younger laughed and half-heartedly covered his chest from the ‘abuse,’ heart singing in his chest at the progress he’d made.

Everyone had begun trickling out while they spoke, so when the laughter petered off, there was a comfortable sort of silence that had fallen over the place. Even Hoseok had left, although his bag was still in the room so Jungkook was relatively sure he would be returning soon. Maybe he was just giving them some privacy—or maybe he’d just had to go to the bathroom.

“I’m still mad at you, you know,” Jimin said into the quiet.

“I know,” Jungkook said seriously. “I meant it though, hyung. I’m not going to stop until I’ve earned your forgiveness.”

“Well, I guess you’re just going to have to keep on trying then,” Jimin said, smiling with his eyes in a way that did something complicated to Jungkook’s stomach. “For now, though, why don’t we get outta here?”

“Right,” Jungkook said. Then paused. “Hyung?”

“Hm?” Jimin answered, glancing back towards him. He’d gotten up to gather the rest of his things, but he paused now at Jungkook’s somewhat hesitant call.

“…I really don’t think I can move…”

Jimin blinked in surprise, then rolled his eyes with the tiniest hint of a smile still lingering on his lips. “All right, let’s get you up, then…”

Chapter Text

“Easy, easy,” Jimin whispered, helping Jungkook into the car. It was no easy feat—Jungkook was a huge baby when he was in physical pain, it seemed. He had whined the entire way to the hospital and the entire time they’d sat in the waiting room.

At first, Jungkook insisted that he didn’t need to go to the hospital at all, but after he’d nearly cried again when Jimin helped him up, the elder had put his foot down and insisted that they call Jungkook’s parents.

That had gotten a rather violent protest from Jungkook, though. He’d clutched Jimin’s arm so hard he was sure that there would be bruises in the morning, begging him not to do that. He didn’t know what that was about, but since Jungkook was already hurting, he had compromised and called his brother Junghyun instead.

The elder Jeon was gorgeous, though not quite as gorgeous as Jungkook—a point he decided not to tell the younger in case it gave him more ammo to use against him in the future. He didn’t even bother scolding them as he drove them to the nearest hospital, which Jimin was grateful for. The last thing he wanted was to deal with a pouty Jungkook on top of everything else.

He’d been unerringly patient, too, as they sat in the waiting room. He made conversation with the other patients in the same situation as them, offering comforting smiles and reassuring touches to those who seemed receptive to them.

Jungkook himself did a good job of ignoring Junghyun as much as he could, instead clinging to Jimin—which the elder didn’t mind, admittedly, though he wished the situation were a more positive one.

For obvious reasons, he hated hospitals. There were dozens of shadows, all of them in varying shades and sizes based on the severity of nearby injuries and how soon people would die. He did his best not to look too closely, to accept that there wasn’t anything he could do about everyone who was dying in the hospital.

By the time the doctor had seen Jungkook and handed him a prescription for some painkillers to help with the pain of his bruised tailbone, it was really late and Jimin was already dreading the talking-to he might get from his mother again tonight, not to mention raw from the exposure to so much death in a short amount of time.

“Jimin-ssi,” Junghyun began as he pulled out of the hospital parking lot. “Why don’t you stay the night with us? Kookie has plenty of space in his room for you.”

“Oh, no, that’s fine. I don’t want to impose,” Jimin began, already hating the familiar refusal even as it left his lips.

“I insist,” Junghyun continued stubbornly. “I’ll call your parents myself if necessary. I find I’m hard to refuse.”

Jimin believed it, and judging from the snort Jungkook made from where he was snuggled into Jimin’s lap, Jungkook was used to his brother’s pushiness as well. “May as well give in, Minie,” Jungkook slurred, the pain meds already going to work on him. “S’not like I don’t already know your secret.”

This last was said in a stage whisper and Jimin blushed intensely, glancing up to see if Junghyun had heard him. If he had, he made no indication of it and Jimin relaxed some. “I guess I can stay,” Jimin relented—Jungkook was right about knowing his secret, at least, and he was honestly too exhausted to deal with his mother tonight.

“Excellent. Do you want me to contact your parents?”

“I only have my mom,” Jimin said, wondering what she would say when faced with someone as charming and together as Junghyun. “I can text you the number.”

Just then, Jimin glanced up to see they were pulling into a beautiful neighborhood. The houses were close together as all houses in Seoul and its surrounding areas tended to be, but there were high walls around them that created the illusion of privacy.

He glanced down at the nearly-asleep Jungkook and wondered how he could live in this beautiful place with such a caring and decisive brother and yet want to leave it so bad.

The drive Junghyun pulled into slid right underneath the house, a modern monstrosity that looked like it had been constructed by a massive space-age toddler out of glass blocks stacked haphazardly on top of one another.

As he looked at the stairs leading up from the garage and into the main level of the house, he bit back a groan. Getting Jungkook up those stairs would be no easy feat.

“Yeah, my thoughts exactly,” Junghyun murmured. “I wish we had an elevator.”

Jimin smiled. “Or that Kookie wasn’t such an idiot,” Jimin added.

“That, too,” Junghyun said with a charming laugh. “Come on, let’s get him out. The sooner we get him up and into bed, the better.”

Jimin nodded and did his best to maneuver himself out from under the sleepy and injured boy so that he and Junghyun could work together and get him up the stairs. It was hard enough to move him when Jungkook had just been whining and in pain, but add the drugs to his system and he was practically deadweight.

Jimin was strong, but he wasn’t that strong.

Luckily, Junghyun seemed to be. He pulled Jungkook onto his shoulder with ease, leaving Jimin with the job of basically ensuring the younger took the occasional step and if he lost his footing, Jimin was there to keep his weight from falling too far to one side.

In this way, they made it up the stairs with minimal pain. At least, on their behalf. Jungkook was making soft, complaining noises under his breath which indicated that the meds weren’t quite enough to fend off some residual discomfort.

Serves him right, Jimin thought, although the voice in his head was fond rather than petty.

The house itself was just as modern inside except for a small den he could see past the stairs, the sound of a loud grandfather clock ticking away the time echoing throughout the open interior of the rest of the house. Jimin immediately felt more drawn to that room than any other—it felt more real, like it had been lived in.

Everything else was cold and sterile, all sleek lines and sharp edges, stainless steel and streak-free glass. Through the windows, which took up the entire front of the house, he could see the courtyard outside. It was simple but beautiful, with green trees and white flowers, benches settled here and there in case someone wanted to enjoy their own little piece of paradise.

For some reason, he could imagine Jungkook curled up in one of those benches with some hot chocolate and a blanket around his shoulders, and the image was almost enough to make him audibly “aww.”

“You still with me , Jimin-ssi? We still have to get this big lug up one more flight of stairs and into bed,” Junghyun said, cutting into Jimin’s reverie.

“R-right, of course,” Jimin said, feeling his cheeks flush once more as he adjusted his grip on Jungkook.

This staircase was a little harder to get up. They were floating stairs so there wasn’t really much in the way of a handhold, plus it was narrow and difficult to maneuver three people in a row up the stairs. “How did you and Jungkook even survive childhood in this house?” Jimin huffed.

“The struggle was real,” Junghyun joked. “There’s a reason Jungkook has that little scar on his cheek. Room is to the left.”

Jimin adjusted, thankful they had finally finagled their way up those dangerous stairs. The door to Jungkook’s room was pushed open and Jimin’s curiosity piqued as he wondered what kind of space someone like Jungkook would have.

As promised, the room was plenty big for the two of them, with a massive bed in the middle as well as a little gaming setup in one part of the room, including a gamer chair, big television hooked up to the latest gaming console, and even a mini-fridge.

But Jimin’s eyes were more interested in the artwork on the walls. Most of it looked as if Jungkook had done it himself, as evidenced by the pile of art supplies in the other corner of the room. He wasn’t surprised at all to find that Jungkook was a gamer, but an artist? He never would have guessed.

“He’s talented, right?” Junghyun said, finally plopping Jungkook down into his bed non-too-gently and causing the younger to curse viciously before he buried himself in the pillows.

Jimin nodded. “He is,” he agreed, picking up one of his unfinished sketches to get a closer look. He gently touched a corner of the paper where two drops of bright red had seeped into the pencil shading. “Looks like he’s literally bled for his art.”

“The mark of a true artist,” Junghyun said, moving to the foot of the bed so he could pull Jungkook’s sneakers off and toss them haphazardly in a corner. “My room is just across the hall,” Junghyun said. “Call me if you need anything, but I’m going to leave the two of you alone for now. I’ll also take care of things with your mother.”

“Thanks, Junghyun-ssi,” Jimin said, bowing slightly.

“Please, call me hyung. Good night.”

Jimin set the paper back down as Junghyun closed the door behind him, sighing. He didn’t know what to do now. Jungkook was pretty much already out cold, and Jimin wasn’t sure where exactly he was meant to sleep. Was there a sleeping bag somewhere? A futon hidden in a closet?

Jimin poked around the room a little more before finally deciding that he would just curl up in Jungkook’s gaming chair. It wouldn’t be the most comfortable place to sleep, but it would do just fine.

But as he made his way in that direction, Jungkook’s hand suddenly darted out and caught his. Even drugged-up and injured, the younger was really strong and Jimin found himself pulled straight into the bed and clung to like a stuffed bear.

“You smell good,” Jungkook murmured, burying his face in the nape of Jimin’s neck and causing the elder to blush furiously. “Jimin-ssi.”

The way Jungkook said his name like that, almost reverently, made Jimin suddenly feel hot and flushed all over. “Go to sleep, Kookie,” Jimin murmured quietly.

“Jimin-ssi,” Jungkook said again, then giggled a little. “I like Jimin-ssi.”

Every time he said it, it became less reverent and more teasing, and Jimin didn’t know which got him more flushed. He batted Jungkook’s hand away and hip-scooted him to the side a little to make more room in the bed, making the younger yelp in pain.

He almost felt bad about it until Jungkook pinched his arm. After a little more wrestling, however, Jimin found himself wrapped around Jungkook like a koala and the younger stopped fighting him. They fell asleep just like that, and when Junghyun checked in on them in the morning, he couldn’t quite keep the fond smile off his face at the sight.

Chapter Text

Jungkook awoke the next morning to find Jimin gazing at his artwork. A stab of anxiety went through him as he tried to push himself into a sitting position only to groan when the pain in his tailbone spiked.

“You’re awake,” Jimin said, setting aside the picture he was looking at and turning a smile at him. “How do you feel?”

“Ugh,” Jungkook said. “What are you still doing here?”

“Wow, rude,” Jimin said. “And here I thought you wanted to be friends.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Jungkook said, pouting as he tried to find a more comfortable position.

“Your brother dropped by with a gel donut for you to sit on,” Jimin said, ignoring the question. He picked up to object in question and tossed it to Jungkook, who caught it and made a face.

“This is by far the most embarrassing injury I’ve ever had,” Jungkook declared, but stuffed the donut under his bum anyways. He sighed in relief. “But I thought you’d have dumped me and run by now.”

“I am not the one that dumps and runs,” Jimin said huffily. “You got hurt trying to impress me. I figured the least I could do is stay and help you while you’re recovering. Junghyunie hyung said your parents aren’t here often and he still has to wrap up his internship so he’s not here much, either, so I figured, why not?”

“Junghyunie hyung, eh? Seems like you warmed up to him really quickly,” Jungkook said. He tried not to let the jealousy show, but it was the story of his life. Everyone always loved Junghyun; what about him?

“I warm up quickly to everyone, and he isn’t all that bad,” Jimin said. “He’s really nice, actually, and he seems to care a lot about you.”

“You didn’t warm up quickly to me,” Jungkook said, choosing not to discuss the part about how nice Junghyun was or how much he cared about Jungkook; that was a sensitive subject on the best of days.

“Yeah, I did. You just ruined it by being a Grade A ass.”

Jungkook, suitably chastised, rightfully chose not to respond to that, instead staring at the blanket on his legs and pulling at a loose string.

“I don’t dislike you, you know,” Jimin said a moment later and Jungkook looked up to see an inscrutable expression on the elder boy’s face. “I like you a lot, actually. More than I should, considering your behavior. I just have to make sure you won’t hurt me again.”

“I won’t,” Jungkook said. “I know what I did was wrong. Donghyun brings out a part of me that I’m not proud of. Maybe it’s time I stopped hanging out with him.”

“Why do you hang out with someone that brings out the worst of you in the first place?”

“Pisses off my parents,” Jungkook admitted with a wry grin. “Or it used to. But I guess they don’t care about even that anymore. Maybe I’m a lost cause.”

Jimin frowned. “You’re not,” he declared.

Jungkook just shrugged.

“Jungkook-ah,” Jimin said, more firmly. “You aren’t a lost cause.”

Jungkook nodded, but he still wasn’t sure if he actually believed it or not.

“Don’t you have any snacks in here?” Jimin whined, throwing open the fridge for the fifteenth time in as many minutes.

“Nope, my parents are health nuts. They don’t keep junk food in the house,” Jungkook said. He’d managed to walk down the stairs unassisted, but it was clear that he wanted to be laying down again, so Jimin grabbed a granola bar with a disappointed face and helped get Jungkook back up the stairs.

Jungkook lowered himself onto the bed so that his head was where the feet would normally go and he was laying on his stomach—all the websites Jimin could find on the subject had said this should be the least uncomfortable position for a tailbone injury.

“I still can’t believe you did this to yourself just to impress me,” Jimin said, shaking his head as he watched Jungkook’s face go through a series of pained expressions while he adjusted positions and pulled a pillow into his arms.

“Shut up,” Jungkook complained. “Can’t you see I’m injured?”

Jimin giggled, unable to help himself. “Ah, yes, apologies,” he joked.

He wondered when a good time would be to explain that he’d be staying for a whole week. Would Jungkook want him to? He’d read that injured tailbones could take up to a month to fully heal, but by the first week, most of it would be done. Jimin just wanted to try and make that first week as easy on the other as possible, considering it was for his sake that Jungkook had literally busted his ass.

“Hyung, could you do me a favor?” Jungkook said, interrupting his thinking.

“Of course, Kookie,” Jimin replied. “What do you need?”

“I like it when you call me that,” Jungkook said quite suddenly.

Jimin blinked in surprise. “Call you what?”

“Kookie. A few people have called me that before, but it’s different, somehow, coming from you.”

“Oh.” Jimin blushed. He hadn’t intended to call him anything but his name, but the nickname had slipped out before he’d even realized it.

“Anyways, the favor?”

“Right! What is it?” Jimin said, eager for the subject change.

“Could you go over to my game area and open that cabinet there? I need something out of there.”

Jimin stood and made his way over to the area in question, pointing at the cabinet to confirm it was the one. When he received a nod from Jungkook, he opened it…and immediately turned an affronted look on him. “You had all these up here and didn’t think to mention it before?” he asked.

Inside the cabinet was a store of junk food—all of Jimin’s favorites, though he tried to avoid too much of them as a dancer.

“You didn’t ask if I had any snacks,” Jungkook returned cheekily. “Grab me some mochi. I’m craving it for some reason. Get yourself something, too. I have plenty. There’s soda in the fridge, as well.”

Jimin shook his head, getting out the mochi package before grabbing a seaweed snack for himself. “Did you get that mochi from Japan?” Jimin asked as Jungkook reached for the package.

“Yeah, my brother bought it for me when he went there a couple weeks ago,” Jungkook asked. “I hadn’t wanted it before now, though.”

Jimin grabbed a couple cokes out of the fridge, passing one to Jungkook before taking his seat at the desk once more and beginning to eat his snack. “Can I ask you something?” Jimin asked after he finished swallowing his first bite.

“Sure,” Jungkook said, not bothering to finish his before talking.

Jimin made a face at the lack of manners but shook his head do dismiss it—it was Jungkook’s bedroom after all. “Why don’t you get along with your brother? He clearly cares about you and he’s been nothing but nice this whole time,” Jimin said.

He knew he was poking something he probably shouldn’t, but maybe it felt a little too real considering his own brother was his only ally at home and the thought that brothers who clearly cared about each other could still end up not getting along was terrifying to him. He never wanted to not get along with Jihyun.

Jungkook sighed, setting aside his mochi. “It’s kind of a complicated story,” he said.

“Well, I’m here for a week, so we got time,” Jimin said, seeing his opening and going for it.

“A whole week?” Jungkook said, eyes widening almost comically. Jimin couldn’t tell if it was a good thing or a bad thing, but he smiled and nodded.

“A whole week,” he confirmed. “But you were just about to tell me about your brother?”

Jungkook sighed again, his face dropping. “It’s just…I don’t trust him anymore. He changed somewhere along the way to be this perfect child to my parents and after that…I just don’t know how to be around him. He’s always ingratiating himself to everyone, being all friendly. But he’s never real anymore. I hate it.”

“Imagine that—another Jeon that puts up a façade,” Jimin commented.

“I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. But I just thought that, I dunno, we could at least be real with each other, except he’s not, or maybe he really did become this perfect child to my parents. Maybe that’s what growing up is about—becoming the thing you hate.” Jungkook shrugged as best he could, considering the position he was in.

“I don’t believe that,” Jimin said. “I think he’s just trying his best, just like you are. Maybe all it takes to be real is for someone to be real first.”

“Why does it always have to be me, though?” Jungkook complained. “Why do I always have to make the moves to make things right? Why can’t it be someone else for a change?”

“Maybe it will be,” Jimin said. “I just know that you can’t keep going like this forever. You almost killed yourself, Kookie. I know we try not to mention that, but it happened. You were literal moments away from stepping off that bridge and ending your life forever because of all the pretending, and if you had, then you never would have had the chance to patch things up with your brother, with Taehyung. You have all these people in your life, but you’re shutting them out by being something you’re not. Maybe it’s time for you to stop doing that. Maybe life will be easier to handle if you just…stop pretending.”

Jungkook frowned, silence descending over them. Jimin felt as if he’d just overstepped in every way and he was waiting for the inevitable lash-out, but it never came. Just a tense silence that extended for what felt like forever but which couldn’t have been more than a couple of minutes.

“Maybe,” Jungkook said finally and that was all Jimin knew he would get for now.

Somehow, he was okay with that.

Chapter Text

It had been three days since Jimin started staying over Jungkook’s place to help him with his tailbone. Already, the younger was feeling much better—no doubt thanks to Jimin’s patient caregiving (and sternness whenever Jungkook tried to be stubborn and do something he wasn’t yet cleared to do).

Jungkook felt that it had become comfortable. Strange, considering they hadn’t known each other very long at all, but good. The worst part, though, was that Jimin was always there. Which meant Jungkook could not scratch the itch, so to speak, and he was feeling a bit on edge. The only time he did leave was on Monday for school, but Junghyun had taken to working evenings instead so whenever Jimin wasn’t there, Junghyun was.

Still, he loved Jimin’s company. He tried to teach the other how to play video games, but it always devolved into Jungkook snatching the remote and trying to “show” Jimin how to play right. For his part, Jimin didn’t mind. He just laughed that same beautiful laugh that had saved Jungkook’s life before and made the younger’s heart flutter.

Sometimes, Jimin would curl up in one of Jungkook’s gaming chairs and read. He always looked so much smaller and sadder in those times, his lips falling into a natural pout while the rest of him was engulfed in one of Jungkook’s massive hoodies. Jungkook liked to get out his sketchpad in those times. He made a whole show of it, pretending he was doing homework instead of drawing his new friend (could he call him that?) like some kind of stalker. Still, he couldn’t quite bring himself to stop.

They convinced Junghyun to buy them even more snacks, too, so they ate with reckless abandon at every opportunity, leaving wrappers and cans around the room. It was becoming quite a mess, actually.

“I need to clean your room,” Jimin announced.

“What? No, I can do it,” Jungkook said, already embarrassed by the idea.

“You aren’t allowed to do any bending and stuff yet,” Jimin said. “And your room is a pigsty. I’m going to clean it. Don’t worry—I have a little brother, I’m sure there’s nothing I could find that would embarrass me.”

“It’s not embarrassing you I’m worried about,” Jungkook muttered, feeling suddenly self-conscious. Nobody liked their crushes to look under their beds or into their closets. Those places were sacred—and horrifyingly smelly.

Would Jimin ever be able to look at him the same way again?

“Time for your bath, Jungkookie,” Junghyun announced, appearing at the door.

“Oh god, no, not again,” Jungkook groaned. Baths were the absolute worst, but the doctor said that he shouldn’t stand in the slippery shower by himself, which meant he had to put on swim trunks and bathe with his brother in the room to make sure he didn’t slip and hurt himself. Soaking was also important to get the muscles of his back to relax and ease his pain, so he couldn’t even just wash up and get the hell out of there.

They’d bought one of those inflatable bath pillows to prevent his tailbone from grating against the bottom of the bath—a cheery little pink thing that added an extra element of torture to what was already the most torturous part of his every-other-day routine—and Junghyun was holding it with a little too much anticipation in his face.

“Yep, again. You don’t want to be a stinky, filthy mess, do you?”

“Maybe,” Jungkook muttered.

Junghyun laughed. “Well, too bad. No brother of mine is going to smell like a used gym sock when he’s got such a handsome friend staying with him.”

“Ah, hyung,” Jimin said, his face igniting immediately at the compliment. For some reason, it made Jungkook really angry.

“Oh, shit, it’s the jealous face,” Junghyun said, eyes widening with a little too much innocence. “Should I avoid complimenting Jimin-ssi?”

“What are you talking about? What jealous face? I don’t have a jealous face,” Jungkook said.

“You do,” Jimin chirped. “You stick your tongue into your cheek and glare murderously.”

“No, I don’t,” Jungkook said. Did he really?

“Jimin-ssi is right,” Junghyun added. “It runs in the family. We Jeons are a hot-blooded family.”

“God, you’re so greasy. Just grab my stupid swimming trunks and let’s go already.”

Junghyun chuckled but did as he was told and picked up Jungkook’s red swimming trunks from the top of his dresser as well as a comfortable change of clothes. Then he helped pull Jungkook to his feet. Jungkook could walk on his own now but he struggled to stand or sit without a shoulder to lean on. He was thankful that he didn’t have to even ask for the help at this point, but he still hated this feeling of needing it in the first place. He’d prided himself on being independent, but now that he’d busted his ass, he lost even that.

“See you in a bit, Jungkookie,” Jimin called after him.

Once in the bathroom, Junghyun helped him undress and get into the trunks. It was honestly the worst part—his brother hadn’t seen him naked since they were both tiny tykes, and Jungkook was more than a little self-conscious…particularly about the scars that now adorned his wrist and, to a lesser extent, his inner thigh. He had bought himself time, refusing to remove the leather bracelets, and Junghyun hadn’t noticed the ones on his thighs yet, no doubt thanks to the trunks that fell to his knees and covered all that up. But as always, Junghyun eyeballed the bracelets and this time, he finally asked, “Why won’t you take those off?”

“They’re a gift,” he said. “Kind of like a security blanket, I guess. They stay.”

Junghyun shrugged and accepted the answer—of course he did—and Jungkook relaxed as he was helped into the bath.

The water was scalding hot, just the way Jungkook liked it, and smelled of eucalyptus and spearmint. It was a clean smell, one that helped Jungkook relax a bit even with the annoying pink pillow beneath him, mocking him with its cheerfulness.

As Jungkook used a cup to wet his hair and poured the shampoo (some girly-smelling one since Jungkook’s favorite had run out a couple of days ago and he hadn’t been able to buy anymore) into his hair, Junghyun settled onto the toilet. “Who are they from?”

“Hm?” Jungkook asked, taken slightly off guard.

“The bracelets. You said they’re a gift. But who are they from?”

“Tae hyung,” Jungkook said immediately. He had been the only person to have even noticed the marks on his wrist that day on the roof after he’d first made the cuts. The older boy was far too observant for his own good, but he also wasn’t really the one to put what he observed into coherent details and no doubt hadn’t entirely realized what they were.

“Oh? I thought the two of you were no longer friends?” Junghyun asked.

Jungkook paused, staring at his older brother. He was honesty shocked that he even knew about the falling out. His surprise must have shown on his face, because Junghyun gave a half-wince, half-smile. “You honestly thought I hadn’t noticed when he suddenly stopped practically living at our house? You must think I’m an awful brother, or really stupid.”

“Sorry,” Jungkook said automatically. He didn’t add the bit about how he assumed he hadn’t noticed because he was too busy worrying about his own perfect life to care about Jungkook anymore. Just like their parents, just like everyone. “But Tae and I made up. Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“I am sitting on a pink pillow, half naked in the bath. I do not want to have a heart-to-heart about my best friend troubles right now. I’m already vulnerable enough,” Jungkook grouched.

Junghyun laughed out loud. “Fair enough. I won’t bother you for now.”

The rest of the bath passed in relative silence, then Junghyun helped him out once the water had gotten lukewarm. The drying was probably the most embarrassing part, but to Junghyun’s credit, he did it as quickly and un-awkwardly as he could and before long, Jungkook was dressed in his fresh clothing. Sapped from the hot bath, Jungkook allowed himself to lean on Junghyun a little more as he walked him back to his room.

Just in time to see Jimin in the process of emptying his trash, his room already having been cleaned for the most part. Jungkook froze a little, remembering suddenly the bloodied tissues and the stashed razors in his room.

Oblivious to Jungkook’s fear, Junghyun set him on the bed and departed, mentioning that he had to get to the office now.

“Kookie,” Jimin said, his voice sounding concerned. Jungkook’s eyes tracked to the tissues sitting in the trash bag and his heart sat heavy on his stomach. So he had found them.

“Yeah?” Jungkook said hoarsely.

“What happened? I assumed I would find some tissues with questionable fluids—which is why I got these gloves from your kitchen—but I certainly didn’t expect blood. Did you hurt yourself?”

“Um…” Jungkook said. “Yeah, actually. I have these razors to cut paper and boxes and stuff. Accidentally slipped and cut myself.”

Rather than question it, Jimin huffed a laugh and Jungkook relaxed. “You are honestly so accident prone,” the elder said. “How did you survive to this age?”

“I didn’t intend to,” Jungkook said, the words slipping unbidden from his lips. The tension that filled the room was instantaneous and heavy. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re right. I guess I just…forgot. You seem so different now,” Jimin said.

“I am,” Jungkook said, wondering if it was the truth. He certainly didn’t feel the same compulsion to kill himself that he had before. It was still there, that voice telling him he should have done it, that he wasn’t worth anything so why did he keep trying, that the world didn’t deserve any more of him than it had already taken. But it was easier now, to see the little bits of living that were worth it. Like Jimin. “You changed my fate. I haven’t forgotten, and I never will. I’m trying to be better.”

“I believe you,” Jimin said. “And for what it’s worth…I forgive you for being a prick. I see now that you were really raw. That doesn’t excuse it, but I think I’ve given you enough punishment…for now.”

Jungkook chuckled. “Thanks, hyung. I knew I’d win you over eventually.”

“Yah, brat. Don’t push it,” Jimin said, but he was smiling too.

And for now, Jungkook allowed himself to bask in the idea that everything was going to be fine.

Chapter Text

Jungkook awoke in the middle of the night to an empty bed for the first time in nearly a week. He lay there for a long moment, assuming that Jimin was probably just using the bathroom or something. But as the clock on his wall ticked on and there was no sign of the other, Jungkook began to worry.

He rolled out of his bed with a groan—thankfully his tailbone had healed pretty well so he could move now, but it was still a little sore—and reached for the phone on his bedside table. He scrolled through his missed calls, noting that he had a few from Namjoon and Jin as well as Lisa and Yugyeom, but nothing from Jimin.

So naturally, Jungkook decided to call him. But the second he pressed the button, he heard Jimin’s ringtone issuing out of his covers; Jimin had left his phone.

Possible explanations began kicking around in his head: maybe Jimin was downstairs, getting water. Maybe he had indigestion and that was why he was taking so long in the bathroom. Maybe he had had a bad dream and was getting fresh air.

But none of them settled the worry growing in Jungkook’s gut. He painstakingly stood from his bed, shuffling out of his room. The bathroom light was off; downstairs was silent. Even the courtyard, the best place for getting fresh air and privacy, was completely dark and empty.

He made his way to his brother’s door and hesitated. It had been so long since he had actively sought him out and it felt strange doing this now, but he felt wired and unsettled, like something could very seriously be wrong. So, he knocked.

The door was tugged open, revealing a Junghyun that was disheveled from sleep, his normally immaculate appearance tossed aside in favor of casual sweats and a plain t-shirt; his hair was a fluffy mass on top of his head and as he rubbed his eyes, Jungkook was taken aback by seeing the brother he remembered standing before him instead of the “perfect” version he had been.

“The house better be on fire, or you better be in incredible pain, for me to be getting woken up right now,” Junghyun growled.

“I can’t find Jimin,” Jungkook said, pushing his surprise aside. There were more important things than how his brother looked when he was in bed, even if some part of Jungkook thought he probably slept in a pod nowadays and he just walked out looking perfect.

“What do you mean you can’t find Jimin?” Junghyun asked, suddenly very awake.

“He’s not here, hyung. I don’t know where he went—he left his phone and everything,” Jungkook said.

Junghyun cursed and hurried into his room to grab a hoodie. “Get dressed,” Junghyun called.

“What? Why? Where do you think he went?”
“I don’t know,” Junghyun said. “But when I talked to his family, they mentioned he was prone to sleepwalking episodes and to be on the lookout.”

Jungkook felt his worry spike. Jimin had said something similar to him on the night they first met, but he still hadn’t quite come to terms with the rather unique abilities his friend claimed to have. If it were true, however, Jungkook was afraid of what they would find and what state Jimin might be in when—or maybe if—they found him.

He did his best to dress on his own quickly, but it was a slow process and he was already feeling the effects of having been up and moving more than he had all week. His brother ended up having to all but shove his feet into shoes before they clambered into his car and were off.

“His brother is in a few of your classes, so you have his phone number, right?” Junghyun asked. “Park Jihyun?”

“Oh, yeah,” Jungkook said, remembering the quiet boy. He pulled his phone out and scrolled through to find the number in question.

“Text him and see if there’s any places Jimin might be prone to sleepwalk to,” Junghyun continued, turning onto the main road.

Jungkook hesitated. He knew where Jimin said he went: to wherever there was death. Could it be true? He had come upon Jungkook at his most vulnerable. So, he did as Junghyun requested and texted Jihyun, but then he subtly opened the local news station’s website to see if there had been any incidents tonight where people had died.

There was an obituary for a recent heart attack victim, but nothing else and Jungkook breathed a sigh of relief.

His phone lit up as Jihyun texted back, saying that he should scour the main roads and bridges. He also mentioned that it had rained earlier in the night, subtly hinting that he should look for car accidents and the like and promising that he and his mother would start looking as well.

Jungkook bit his lip.

“What did he say?”

“Check the main roads and bridges,” Jungkook replied. “That’s where the worst risk is. If he’s just in a neighborhood or something, he shouldn’t be in too much danger.”

The search took too long. Jungkook was all but buzzing with worry. What if Jimin had fallen somewhere? What if there had been a mugger? He fiddled with the fabric of his sweatpants, quietly simmering as his eyes searched desperately for the shorter figure of the other boy.

And then…

“Stop the car!” Jungkook barked.

Junghyun was so shocked that he slammed on the brakes. The car screeched and came to a halt. Junghyun’s arm went out to stop Jungkook from going forward too far, but he needn’t have bothered—almost as soon as the car came to a stop, Jungkook was out and running.

Jimin was walking in a daze, feet bare and eyes unfocused as he walked. But the reason for Jungkook’s haste became apparent soon enough as the elder of the two stepped off the side of the road and made to cross the busy street.

Jungkook may have been injured, but he didn’t think he had ever moved faster in his entire life than he did in that moment. He covered the distance between them quickly and—miraculously—safely, managing to tackle Jimin out of the road.

And just in time, too, as that was when horror struck. There was a honking horn and then the sound of metal slamming into metal as a car swerved to avoid them and hit another car in the process, causing it to spin out and come to rest against a guard rail a few meters down the road. Glass shattered, bits of it even managing to reach them. One of the shards sliced across Jimin’s cheek, finally waking him from his daze.

“Hyung!” Jungkook called, shaking Jimin a little. “Are you all right?”

“K-kookie?” Jimin asked, then his eyes widened in fear. “Th-the shadows!”

Jungkook looked around as if he could see them, but of course he couldn’t. “How many?” Jungkook asked instead.

Jimin shook his head, burying his face in Jungkook’s shoulder. “I don’t know,” he replied miserably.

Jungkook didn’t really see himself as the heroic type, but something about Jimin’s utter misery at this whole situation made him want to do something. So, he got up, ignoring his own hurts, and hurried to the sight of the accident. Or he would have, if Junghyun hadn’t grabbed his arm.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked. He seemed furious, his grip on Jungkook’s arm a little too tight.

“Let me go! Those people…” Jungkook began.

“They’re going to die,” Jimin said, as matter of fact as if he were reporting the weather and not the mortality of actual living people. “And it’s my fault.”

“You were sleepwalking,” Junghyun said. “It’s not your fault. And Jungkook, you’re a kid and already busted your ass acting a fool. I called the police and other emergency services. Let them handle it.”

Jimin shook his head again, although he didn’t seem to have the energy to argue; Jungkook on the other hand…

He yanked his arm from his brother’s grip. “I’m not going to just sit by while there are people who need help,” Jungkook said. “When did you become such a coward?”

“A coward? You call sense cowardice?” Junghyun barked back. “Jungkook—”

But whatever he was about to say was lost when one of the cars combusted…and promptly exploded as the heat reached the gas tank.

Jimin cried out as if he were in pain and buried his face in his hands, but all Jungkook could do was stare in horror as the flames reached higher into the sky. “N-no way…”

“Come on,” Junghyun said, tugging Jungkook into his arms. Jungkook didn’t fight this time. He’d never seen anyone die, but there was no way anyone survived that. The explosion hadn’t been huge, but the fire was so hot, he could feel it all the way here. Others were stopping their cars to stare at the scene of horror, captivated by it as if it were a drama instead of real life.

It was horrible. And this…this was something Jimin had seen more than once?

One of the other cars pulled up to them and out spilled Jihyun and what must be Jimin’s mother. Jihyun immediately wrapped his arms around his brother, while his mother’s expression was unreadable.

“Thank you for looking after my son,” she said to Junghyun, and Jungkook didn’t have the emotional or mental energy to parse whether she was being sarcastic or sincere in her words.

“I’m just sorry it came to this,” Junghyun said. “I should have locked the doors more securely.”

“Wouldn’t have made a difference,” she said with a huff. “The boy just can’t help himself. He always finds trouble.”

“You can head on home if you would like. Jimin seems exhausted,” Junghyun said. “I can take care of the authorities.”

“Very well. Jihyun, pull your brother up. We’re going home.”

And just like that, Jimin was gone.

The trip home was long. Jungkook barely even marked the scenery outside as they went. There had been a lot of questions—why were they out in the middle of the night, who had caused the accident, etcetera, etcetera. When all was said and done, though, all Jungkook could remember was the shock as the car went up in flames.

How did you un-see something like that?

When they pulled into the garage, all Jungkook wanted to do was go upstairs and hurry to bed, but Junghyun had other ideas.

“You could have died tonight,” he said. “If you had gotten runover trying to get to Jimin, or if you’d made it to that car right before it…”

“Please stop, hyung,” Jungkook said. “I don’t want to hear it.” It’s hardly the closest I’ve been to dying.

“It was foolish, what you did,” Junghyun continued, ignoring Jungkook’s pleas. Typical.

“And what about what you did? What if I had been able to make it? What if I could have gotten to them in time? But you stopped me from saving them.”

“I stopped you from dying!” Junghyun said.

“Maybe I didn’t want you to!” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, but he wasn’t about to wait around for Junghyun to regain his senses. He hurried out of the car and to his room, throwing himself onto the bed.

He heard Junghyun’s footsteps a while later, but they simply paused outside of his door before hurrying on to bed.

Even now, Jungkook couldn’t decide if that was a relief or if it just cemented in his head the idea that he didn’t really matter.

Chapter Text

Jimin wasn’t at school when Jungkook returned the Monday after the incident, and a stab of worry swept through him at the realization.

He still hadn’t even come to get his phone yet, so Jungkook hadn’t seen or heard from him the entire weekend and he didn’t like it at all. He went to the cafeteria with plans to ask Taehyung if he knew anything, but he didn’t really get the chance because as soon as he entered, Donghyun’s arm was around his shoulders.

“Where you been, Kook? I missed my favorite minion!” he joked.

A wave of disgust went through him at the term, but he forced a tight smile and “playfully” shoved Donghyun away. “Out,” he answered. “What’s it to you? You probably didn’t even show up either.”

Taehyung caught his eye across the room, his look weighted, before he turned and left. Jungkook knew where he was going, but he absolutely could not go with Donghyun hanging on him.

“True. School’s a waste. Why don’t we go find trouble together today?”

“Not really in the mood,” Jungkook replied tersely.

“Why? Is it that punk Taehyung? I heard he’s been talking to you again. Do you want me to teach him another lesson?”

This time, Jungkook froze, remembering Lisa’s words. That apparently Donghyun and some of his brothers had hurt Taehyung when they had their falling out. “You shouldn’t have taught him that lesson in the first place,” he said. “It wasn’t your fucking place.”

“What do you mean? Of course it’s my fucking place. What the hell has been going on with you lately? You getting soft on me?”

“Let’s be real for just a fucking second, okay? You’re not one of my hyungs. I put up with you because it pissed off my parents, but I’m done with that shit. They don’t care anymore, so I don’t care anymore. We don’t have any reason to continue associating with each other, so why don’t you just leave me alone?”

Donghyun looked stunned, and Jungkook felt a stab of triumph at it. He’d done it, he’d stood up for himself.

But Donghyun’s look of disbelief passed quickly, and instead he wore a cruel expression. “Leave you alone, huh? Like everyone else? Yeah, I can do that. Just don’t be surprised when you find you’ve made a big mistake. It gets real lonely out there, Kook. Especially for punks that don’t know how to show their appreciation for what they got.”

And with that, he turned and left the cafeteria, knocking some kid’s tray out of his hands in the process.

Jungkook let out a shaky breath, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it. He needed to talk to Taehyung and see what he knew about Jimin. He hurried out of the cafeteria, tossing the kid who had dropped his tray because of Donghyun his banana on his way out.

Jungkook didn’t know what it was that made him so certain, but he knew that he would find Taehyung on the roof of the school. Sure enough, when he reached the top of the stairs and threw open the door, Taehyung was there. And so was Park Jihyun.

For a moment, Jungkook was taken aback. He didn’t know Jihyun very well, despite the fact that they were in the same year and shared quite a few classes. He was quiet, had never so much as answered a question in class, so Jungkook had pretty much written him off. He knew that he was Jimin’s brother, could see the relation in the shape of their eyes, but the resemblance really ended there.

Seeing him interacting with Jimin had been strange enough when he’d come to pick him up after that horrific accident. But seeing him here, with Taehyung in his secret place, it felt like stepping into another dimension. He glanced at Taehyung in question.

“I figured you’d want an update on Jimin,” Taehyung said in explanation, “But didn’t account for the fact that Jihyun-ah here doesn’t talk.”

Jihyun rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone. He tapped furiously on it and then Jungkook’s own phone buzzed.

Park Jihyun 11:47 AM
Trauma related. I’m working on it. Do you have Jiminie hyung’s phone?

“Oh, yeah,” Jungkook said, rooting around in his pocket. He had about a hundred more questions about this supposed trauma, but he didn’t really know how to ask any of them so he simply handed the phone to Jihyun. “Is Jimin-ssi all right?”

Park Jihyun 11:49 AM
As all right as can be expected. It’s not the first time and it won’t be the last.

Jungkook frowned. That wasn’t exactly comforting. He couldn’t get the accident out of his own head, and it wasn’t something he thought he could handle seeing more of. He still wasn’t sure how much he believed or understood about Jimin’s supposed curse, but he couldn’t deny that it was horrible.

Park Jihyun 11:52 AM
Thanks for finding him. He told me you stopped him from getting hit.

Jungkook shook his head. “Just returning the favor,” he said.

“Um, hello. Feeling left out here?” Taehyung interrupted.

Jihyun laughed silently and patted Taehyung on the back before heading downstairs. Taehyung made a sound of annoyance. Jungkook decided he liked Jihyun.

“Are you going to explain?” Taehyung asked Jungkook instead,

“Nah, I think I’d rather watch you try and figure it out,” Jungkook teased.

Taehyung pouted. “After I set this all up, you’re really not going to tell me how Jimin is? What happened to him?”

“He sleepwalks,” Jungkook said, taking pity on his once-best friend. “And there was an accident, but nobody got hurt. Just a little too close for comfort.”

It was a lie. A boldfaced one if ever he heard it. People had died—three of them, in fact. He’d looked it up on the news that morning. One of them had been an eight-year-old girl. Her brother, just twelve, had been badly injured but outlived the rest of his family. Jungkook wondered what would happen to him, and then promptly hoped that Jimin never, ever found out.

But Taehyung nodded—of course he did—accepting Jungkook’s answer. “I just have one question…why were you involved? Why did you have Jiminie’s phone?”

Jungkook rubbed his neck. “He was staying at my house,” he admitted.

Rather than teasing as Jungkook expected, however, he looked hurt. “Oh,” he said.

“Hyung?” Jungkook asked, floundering for the meaning behind that look on Taehyung’s face. Even now, as much as he liked to pretend he hated Tae, seeing him upset because of something he said and not knowing why was not a good feeling.

“It’s okay, Kookie,” Taehyung said, giving him what was supposed to be his trademark grin. “I just don’t know what you did to get him to stay with you. He refused me outright.”

Relief flooded him. “Oh, he didn’t want to stay at my house at first either. But my brother insisted, and you know how Junghyunie is—he always gets his way. He needed someone to ‘take care’ of me while he was at his internship and I needed my assignments and stuff; Jimin just happened to be there at the hospital with us.”

“Oh, that’s right, Hoseokie did mention you got hurt at dance practice. I just forgot; assumed you were skipping classes like always,” Taehyung said, and this time his smile was back and just as bright as always. “What happened, exactly?”

“That is a story I will take to my grave,” Jungkook said.

“Fine,” Taehyung said, “I’ll just ask Lisa.”

“Don’t you dare!” Jungkook said, but Taehyung was already hurrying off the roof and into the school building, presumably to find Lisa and drag the story out of her; and Jungkook knew that she would give in and tell the whole damn thing, with embellishments, and it would not paint him in a good light.

Somehow, that didn’t matter as much to him as it used to.

He’s nice, Jihyun signed as he came into the room and then pulled Jimin’s phone from his pocket, tossing it at him.

Jimin fumbled to catch it. “Who?” he asked, already opening his phone to check the notifications. He had been shocked by how naked he’d felt without his phone all day, finding he had far too much time to think. And really, any thinking was too much.

Jihyun pushed Jimin’s phone down so that he could see his hands as he signed, You know who.

Jimin sighed. Of course he knew who; there was only one person that would have his phone if not him. “Nice isn’t exactly the word I’d use for him,” Jimin said, although he couldn’t quite keep the fondness out of his voice.

What word would you use? Jihyun signed, arching his eyebrow in a suggestive way before doing a weird wiggle that Jimin supposed was his attempt to mime the word ‘attractive’ or ‘sexy.’

It startled a laugh out of the older boy, who gave up checking his phone now that he had Jihyun to keep him company. “Maybe just a little,” he admitted. “Do you think I should ask him out?”

YES, Jihyun signed expansively.

Jimin giggled. “Maybe I will. Eventually. Not just yet.”

Why not?

“He’s attractive, but he’s also…well, broken,” Jimin said, not knowing how else to explain it. “I don’t think he’s learned to love himself yet. And if he doesn’t love himself, how can I expect him to love me?”

Who said anything about love? Jihyun signed. I’m saying tap that ass.

Jimin giggled again, but it was a little emptier than before. “I could never use him like that. Although I can’t deny that I want him…you know…in that way, I don’t only want him in that way. I want him to be happy.”

You’re so soft, Jihyun signed, but then ruffled his hair to show he meant nothing negative by it. Video games?

Jimin looked once more down at his phone—he really wanted to check the news, see what he could find out about what happened--then he looked into his brother’s imploring face. With a sigh, Jimin made a show of setting the phone aside and stood from the bed. “Let’s go. I’ll get you this time! I’ve been practicing.”

You wish! Jihyun responded, and Jimin decided that he could put off facing his curse just a little bit longer; right now, he just wanted to be Park Jimin who couldn’t beat his brother in video games for anything but was determined for this time to be different; not the Park Jimin that brought death everywhere he went.

Chapter Text

Jimin awoke to the chirping of his phone. It cut through his dream—something silly involving the sprites from the video game he’d been playing with Jihyun—and brought him to the realm of everything he wanted to escape from right now, right down to the stinging cut on his cheek.

He tried to ignore it, assuming it was probably a wrong number. Jimin rolled over onto his side, burying his face deeper into his pillow and finally the ringing ended. But just as he began to lull himself back into a doze, the phone rang again.

The senior huffed and finally relented, answering the phone without so much as opening his eye to see who it was. “What d’you want?” he slurred, voice still heavy from sleep.

For a second, there was silence on the other line and Jimin felt annoyance bristle just beneath the surface. Then, hesitantly, “Jiminie hyung?”

The voice on the other line was painfully familiar, and Jimin sat up immediately. “Jungkookie? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Jungkook said. “I…just might have gotten myself into a little bit of trouble?”

“What are you talking about? Are you hurt?” Jimin said, already going about pulling his pants on and stuffing his feet into the nearest pair of shoes.

“Nothing like that. I just…can you please come pick me up? Usually I’d call Donghyun or my hyungs Namjoon or Yoongi, but they’re busy with school and I don’t want to bother them…as for Donghyun I cut ties with him the other day, so I can’t call him,” Jungkook said.

“You cut ties with Donghyun?” Jimin asked, surprise stopping his movements. “Why?”

“Can we talk about that when you come get me?” Jungkook said, some impatience entering his tone. Jimin sighed.

“Fine. Where are you?” Jimin said, taking the keys off the ring and hoping his mother wouldn’t mind too much. There was the hesitation again. “Jungkook?”

“I’m outside the police station…” Jungkook’s voice replied, sounding ashamed.

A hundred thoughts raced through Jimin’s mind, most of them variations of what terrible shit Jungkook had done and how he could possibly fix it. And here Jimin thought Donghyun was the problem…

“Stop judging me,” Jungkook interrupted his thoughts.

“I didn’t say anything,” Jimin replied.

“You didn’t have to. I could hear your disapproval in the silence, and before you do say something, I didn’t do anything bad,” Jungkook defended himself.

“Fine. I’ll reserve judgement for now,” Jimin said, trying to shut the car door in such a way that he could avoid making too much noise. He made sure not to turn on his headlights until he had pulled out of the drive, not wanting the flash to wake Jihyun or his mother. “But I will be asking for an explanation, Kookie.”

“I know. And hyung?”

“What?” Jimin said, turning out of his neighborhood.

“Thanks.”

Jimin smiled lightly, then hung up. Now, to just find the police station…

It was a surprisingly small station. For all that Seoul was a huge city, this particular part of it felt like a town removed. Jimin saw more of the neighborhood in that night than he had at any other time and he felt an odd fondness start to form for this little corner of the city with its memorable people like Taehyung, Hoseok, Jin, Lisa—people like Jungkook, who seemed to be pulling Jimin along on far more trouble than he planned when he decided to talk to him that night on the bridge.

The boy in question folded himself into Jimin’s passenger seat wordlessly, letting his head rest against the back, eyes closed against the lights of the city. Jimin didn’t drive back towards home, instead directing the vehicle to a little place that had stood out to him when he’d been looking for the station.

As Jimin pulled to a stop at what appeared to be an overgrown park, Jungkook finally looked at him with a look of shock. “What are we doing here?”

“Where else did you want to go? I didn’t want to wake my mom, and I know you don’t want to wake your parents,” Jimin pointed out.

“I mean, yeah. But why here? Why not one of the pretty parks or nicer spots?” Jungkook was looking at him in a way that seemed to be asking him far more than the words, as if his answer to this question might change something fundamental.

“I don’t know,” Jimin said, looking at a rusted swing set in his headlights. “It just seemed more…special, somehow. More honest.”

Jungkook relaxed, tension melting out of him as he climbed out of the car. Unsure what he’d said to get that reaction, Jimin hurried to follow the taller boy deeper into the park.

The playground structure was small, one of those older models that had been bleached by the sun until the colors and pictures had faded to the point of being almost unrecognizable, but it was still strong. It bore Jungkook’s weight easily, and he helped Jimin walk up the slide without losing his balance, a soft giggle escaping his lips.

It had been years since he’d done anything like that, and it reminded him dimly of when his father was still alive, when he and Jihyun would race onto the playground as their father sat on a nearby bench, his arm around their mother who would usually be reading a book.

At the top of the playground, Jungkook settled into a sitting position, Jimin lowering himself next to him. It was a tight fit, but the view was beautiful—the Han river sparkling in the moonlight as it wound its way through the city of Seoul. Above them, the stars were shining, the light pollution of the wider city unable to block them here in this far-removed place.

“So,” Jimin began, breaking the companionable silence that had settled between them. “You gonna tell me what you were doing at the police station?”

Jungkook sighed, glancing at him briefly before turning his gaze back to the view. “There isn’t much to tell,” Jungkook said eventually.

“Jeon Jungkook, so help me god I did not drive halfway across the city in the middle of the night to come pick you up at a police station only to have you tell me there ‘isn’t much to tell.’ You better start talking and you better start talking now.”

Jungkook chuckled, which was not the reaction he expected, and Jimin felt his chest puff up in anger. Before he could let him have it again, however, Jungkook spoke, “Don’t worry, I’ll tell you what you want to know. I just thought you were really cute just now. So small and fierce.” He punctuated the words with a poke to Jimin's side that made him squeak.

Jimin’s cheeks heated. “I’m not small,” he said weakly.

“Of course you’re not, tiny hyung,” Jungkook said cheekily, earning a swat from Jimin.

“Speak already, or I’m leaving your ass here,” Jimin finally added.

“All right, all right,” he relented. “I was at the police station for getting in a fight.”

“What?” Jimin asked, searching frantically for any sign of injury on the younger boy. “You said it wasn’t anything bad!”

“It was barely a fight,” Jungkook said. “And you can stop looking for injuries, I’m not hurt. And I meant it, it wasn’t bad. They had it coming.”

Jimin was still upset that he’d fought at all. “What did they do?”

Jungkook shrugged. “Talk shit.”

“About what?” Jimin asked almost derisively. Words could be terrible, true, but he had never supported the use of violence in response to something as minor as words.

“About Taehyung, Lisa, me,” Jungkook said, seeming to get angrier the more he thought about it. “You.”

“Me?” Jimin gulped.

Jungkook nodded tersely. “Donghyun always did know how to get under my skin.”

“Donghyun did this?” Jimin asked, finally noticing the slight bruise forming on Jungkook’s cheekbone and brushing his small fingers delicately across it.

Jungkook’s eyes fluttered at the contact, but then he was shaking his head; Jimin retracted his hand. “Not directly; it was a couple of his goons,” Jungkook explained. “Can’t believe I ever thought he was cool. He’s just a coward.”

Silence descended on them and before he could think better of it, Jimin slipped his hand wordlessly into Jungkook’s. The younger seemed startled by the action, but Jimin just looked steadfastly at the river ahead. Eventually, Jungkook squeezed his hand briefly and did the same.

“What all did he say?” Jimin asked when he deemed enough time had passed in silence. He specifically wanted to know what Donghyun had said about him that got Jungkook so angry, but he didn’t know how to ask that directly.

Jungkook shook his head again. “You don’t want to know. He’s…he’s a real piece of work. I found out recently that he beat the shit out of Taehyung in my name when we had that falling out. It’s a wonder Tae ever wanted to speak to me again. I wouldn’t be so forgiving.”

Jimin frowned. He would have to talk to Taehyung about that later. He still wasn’t entirely sure what the fallout had been over, though Taehyung had admitted that he and Jungkook used to be best friends.

It was scary though. Seeing all of the people Jungkook had in his corner, yet also seeing how blind Jungkook was to that support, he couldn’t help but wonder how everything would be different had Jimin not been there to stop Jungkook from leaping to his demise that night.

How much would it kill Taehyung, that his once-best-friend had died before they ever got to make up? That he’d taken his own life? Would he and Jimin ever become friends? Would Jimin have met Hoseok or the others? Would any of them have recovered from that loss? Would Jimin have spent his entire senior year just hearing about the legendary bad boy Jeon Jungkook, the one everyone thought was golden and invincible but had been anything but? Would he have ever known that this boy with his bunny smile and surprisingly soft heart could look this beautiful in the light of the moon, sitting on a bleached-out playground in the middle of an overgrown park? That his hand was so warm and solid and calloused from hours poring over sketches and yet so gentle as he held Jimin’s that he almost felt precious?

It was crazy to think that his curse had actually helped someone, but then…what if it wasn’t enough? What if this fight with Donghyun proved too much for Jungkook to handle, what if he said something that undid all the work Jimin and their friends had done to try and build this broken boy back up after he had saved his life that night? What if the next time Jungkook tried to kill himself, it was because he had made an enemy out of Donghyun for Jimin’s sake?

“You’re squeezing the life out of my hand, hyung,” Jungkook said.

“Oh, sorry,” Jimin said, immediately going to release the hand, but Jungkook simply took it in between both of his, setting their joined hands on his lap.

“What were you thinking about?”

Jimin shook his head, then thought better of it. He’d picked this place because it felt more honest; he had better be just as honest. “I was just thinking how scared I am of losing you,” Jimin admitted. “Even though we’ve only just gained each other.”

“You won’t lose me, Jimin-ssi,” Jungkook said, and he sounded so confident in that moment that Jimin couldn’t help but believe him. But what he didn’t know, what he couldn’t know, was that there was still a voice in Jungkook’s head and it was saying: I was lost long before you even met me.

But now, there was another voice in there too—a voice that sounded suspiciously like Jimin’s—and it kept telling Jungkook that if he stuck with the smaller boy, he might just find himself again along the way. He just had to keep holding on.

Chapter Text

“Oh, come the fuck on!” Jimin shouted, laying on the horn of his car. The piercing sound of it made Jungkook cringe, but he couldn’t quite keep the smile off his face as he watched the flush of anger turn Jimin’s cheeks and ears a bright red. Who knew that the small, sweet Jimin could have so much road rage?

“Calm down, hyung,” Jungkook said. “I think you’re giving everyone enough anxiety as it is, but it doesn’t seem to be working.”

The decision to let Jimin drive them both to school this morning had apparently been a bad one. Jungkook had crashed at Jimin’s place the night before, not wanting to return to his own after getting in trouble with the police, and then they’d ended up sleeping in a little too late for the bus. Jungkook had offered to drive, promising he was a good driver and wouldn’t damage Jimin’s car, but the smaller of the two insisted that he should drive them, that it would be fun and they could even grab a coffee from Jin’s café on the way. Unfortunately, traffic had other ideas. It was like everyone had forgotten how to drive because of there being construction on the bridge ahead.

“Don’t they know the damn speed limit?” Jimin scoffed.

“Yeah, but hyung, the construction is taking up a lot of the road. People can only get by when they’re given the go-ahead. Whether you honk or not isn’t going to change that,” Jungkook said as reasonably as possible.

“We’ll never make it to class at this rate,” Jimin lamented.

“So?” Jungkook said.

Jimin glanced at him in shock. “What do you mean ‘so’? Jungkookie, school is important.”

Jungkook shrugged. “Not really. What can they teach us about life that we can’t learn ourselves? Don’t you ever get tired of being told what to learn?”

Jimin shook his head. “Maybe that’s easy for you to say, but my situation is vastly different,” Jimin said.

“What are you trying to say?” Jungkook asked, knowing the question would probably fluster Jimin, make him worry that he’d hurt Jungkook’s feelings or offended him in some way. There was something supremely satisfying in seeing Jimin react to him, and this was no different.

As expected, Jimin flushed hotly. “I wasn’t trying to say anything bad. Just that…school is important for me. I need to do well.”

“Why? You’re a talented dancer. Why do you need school? Why not just pursue dance?” Jungkook said, pushing the boundaries despite feeling Jimin’s anxiety. He wanted to know the answer, wanted to see what made Jimin tick really.

“You can’t make money dancing,” Jimin scoffed.

“And money is what’s most important?” Jungkook pressed.

“No, of course not. Family is what’s most important. I have to support mine,” Jimin said.

Jungkook sniffed and looked out the passenger window. He couldn’t relate to that. His family had always been cut from a different cloth. The only support he ever really got from his family was financial. He was expected to be successful in some kind of professional career, like a lawyer or doctor or politics, in return for the money his parents gave him. He hated it. As far as he was concerned, money was a convenience, yet they expected him to fulfill all their wishes for him, often at his own detriment, in payment of a debt he never asked for.

“But what about what you want?” Jungkook asked eventually. “Doesn’t that factor in somewhere?”

“Of course it does,” Jimin answered. “Why is it so wrong to actually want to help my family?”

Jungkook shrugged. “It’s not, if that’s what you really want.”

“It is what I really want,” Jimin said. He sounded annoyed now, so Jungkook backed off.

Finally, the traffic had started moving again and they made it to the school’s parking lot without any further incident. But as Jungkook climbed out of Jimin’s car, he didn’t make for the door.

“Where are you going?” Jimin asked, sounding almost alarmed.

“I told you, school’s not something I care about. They can’t teach me anything I don’t already know,” Jungkook said.

Jimin huffed. “Then what will you do instead?”

Jungkook shrugged. “I’m going to live a little,” he said, breaking out in a devilish grin. “I haven’t forgotten what you said, you know.”

“What do you mean?” Jimin asked.

“On that bridge. You teased me about my first act as my own person being to end my life,” he said. “Since you foiled that plan, I’ve been thinking. Why not just do what I want to do for a change? And what I want to do has nothing to do with attending classes.”

“You’re going to get in trouble,” Jimin whined.

“I won’t,” Jungkook assured him. “My teachers all expect me to cut anyways. Except this time, I’m not going to be with Donghyun. I’m doing it for myself this time.”

Jimin sighed, shoulders slumping. “Just be careful, okay? I don’t want any more calls from a police station,” Jimin expressed.

“Scout’s honor,” Jungkook said, saluting him. “You know, you could still join me. I bet you could keep me out of trouble.”

“Jungkook…” Jimin groaned.

“All right, all right. Had to try. Later, hyung!”

“Bye, Kookie,” Jimin said with a pout, but the taller boy was already gone.

“You look sad,” Taehyung declared, sliding into the seat next to Jimin at lunch. The fellow senior startled at the sudden arrival, then shook his head.

“I’m not sad.”

“Liar,” Taehyung said. “You’re sad. What’s going on? Does it have to do with Jungkookie again? I haven’t seen him today.”

“What? No! It’s nothing to do with Jungkookie,” Jimin quickly denied, feeling his cheeks flush a little.

“So, you admit that you are sad,” Taehyung said, giving him a boxy grin of triumph, and Jimin realized his mistake.

“I’m not sad!” Jimin protested again. “I just…I dunno. Been thinking a lot, I guess.”

“Oh? What about?” Taehyung asked, stuffing some food into his mouth with seemingly little regard for whatever it was.

“The meaning of life,” Jimin said, only half-joking.

“Sounds complicated,” Taehyung said, shrugging.

“Can I ask you something?” Jimin watched his best friend warily, not sure if he wanted to delve into this territory but wanting an answer nonetheless. Ever since the night before, he couldn’t help the surge of curiosity about what had happened between Jungkook and Taehyung before Jimin got involved.

“You just did,” Taehyung pointed out cheekily.

“Don’t be an ass, I’m serious,” Jimin complained.

“Okay, okay. Ask your question, Jiminie. You know I’ll answer it if I can,” Taehyung relented.

“What happened between you and Jungkookie?” Jimin held his breath at the question, not at all prepared for what the answer would be.

Taehyung stopped what he was doing quite abruptly and Jimin was sure he’d asked the wrong thing. But a moment later, Taehyung was giggling. “I thought this had nothing to do with Jungkookie?”

“It doesn’t! It has something to do with you more than anything. He told me something about Donghyun…that he hurt you.” Jimin pouted.

Taehyung’s face immediately clouded, as if the memory of what Donghyun did had intruded onto his otherwise happy thoughts. “Why did he tell you about that?”

“Because he and Donghyun finally broke ties. He was telling me what a coward he was, that he had no idea what he had done to you and if he were you, he never would have forgiven himself. So, what happened? Why did you forgive Jungkookie if whatever happened between the two of you caused so much strife?” Jimin asked.

“There was nothing to forgive,” Taehyung replied.

“You have to give me more than that. Please?”

Taehyung sighed and shifted himself so he was facing Jimin more fully. “It’s like this: Jungkookie and I have been best friends since we were little, but when he hit puberty, he started getting a little crush on me. It wasn’t a big deal, but I didn’t feel the same way about him. When I rejected him, it hurt his feelings so he started putting distance between us, hanging out with Donghyun more. Yoongi hyung said that I should give him space, that he’d come around with time. So I let it be. But Donghyun…”

“He wanted to what, gain extra points with Jungkook by hurting you?” Jimin asked, feeling his anger boiling below the surface. All this, over a crush?

“In his own way, I think Donghyun thought he was helping. That he was avenging Jungkook’s broken heart. He may be a prick and a coward, but he meant well in his own way,” Taehyung said. “And anyway, why would I hold Jungkook accountable for what that idiot did for him?”

“Well, Jungkook feels responsible,” Jimin said. “Has he always been like that? Borrowing trouble?”

“Pretty much,” Taehyung said with a sigh. “The kid’s just a sophomore, but he always seems to hold the weight of the world on his shoulders. Have you noticed?”

Jimin had noticed. He’d started to notice more, too, like the dark circles under the younger boy’s eyes, the way he only ever seemed to smile when Jimin was looking right at him. He felt that he was getting to know Jungkook more and more every day, but somehow there was still so much between them, some wall that kept him from truly knowing the other. “Yeah,” Jimin said. “I’ve noticed.”

“But you wanna know something else?” Taehyung said, placing a warm hand on Jimin’s arm.

“What?” Jimin asked uncertainly.

“He’s better now than he was. I don’t know what you did, how you really met,” Taehyung explained. “But somehow, you’re getting through to him. It’s been nice, having my best friend back to an extent. So, thank you, Minie.”

“I haven’t done anything,” Jimin said, blushing a bright fuchsia.

“Look, I’m not saying you kissed away all his problems, but there’s hope where there wasn’t before. Although.” Taehyung leaned uncomfortably close to Jimin. “I gotta say, I’m the jealous type. I think I’m gonna call you on that promise.”

“What promise?” Jimin asked, startled by the sudden declaration.

“You are going to spend the night with me this weekend. I won’t take no for an answer. I need my Jiminie time and I want to hear all the details about your relationship with Jungkookie.”

“Wh-what relationship?” Jimin asked, looking around for an escape.
“Please, who do you think you’re fooling? And you spent a whole week with Jungkook. Why won’t you spend one night with me?”

It was the pout that did it. Jimin didn’t know how anyone could ever say no to Taehyung’s pout. He sighed. “Fine. But if it goes bad, it’s on you.”

“What could possibly go bad? Just you and me, chewin’ the fat. It’ll be a blast!” Taehyung declared.

Jimin hoped he was right, but somehow, he didn’t think that this sleepover was going to be a good idea at all.

Chapter Text

“Why are you so nervous about this sleepover?” Jungkook asked, tousling his hair in the mirror. He was going to see Yoongi that afternoon; the two hadn’t hung out with just the two of them in quite a while and he was looking forward to telling him about Jimin and the strides he’d made towards befriending him. Even so, he’d felt the need to call Jimin before heading out and that was how he found himself currently on the phone with his crush, talking about a sleepover between him and the person he would have claimed to be his biggest enemy just a couple weeks ago.

“I can’t believe you’re asking that question,” Jimin lamented. “Remember—I see dead people?”

“You don’t see dead people,” Jungkook corrected, smiling despite himself. “You see the shadow of death—isn’t there a difference?”

“Shut up, you know what I meant,” Jimin complained, though Jungkook could hear the laugh in his voice.

“I do know what you meant, but I also know that you survived sleeping over at my house for an entire week before anything happened. And anyway, the sleepwalking is weird but I doubt Taehyung will think any less of you for it.”

“I’m not worried about him thinking less of me for sleepwalking,” Jimin said. “I’m worried that he’s going to think I’m insane because of my curse.”

“Are you going to tell him about it?” Jungkook asked, frowning at his reflection. He didn’t know why, but the idea of anyone but him knowing about Jimin’s so-called curse made him feel unhappy. Jealousy, maybe?

“I don’t know,” Jimin admitted, sighing heavily. “But what if I have to? Or what if I let it slip and he thinks I’m crazy?”

“Then he’s not worth your time,” Jungkook said, flinching at the anger in his own tone. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that. I’m sure he’ll be fine with it even if you tell him.”

“You didn’t exactly believe it either,” Jimin pointed out.

“I was literally about to jump off a bridge. And I said and did worse things after that, so I’m hardly the benchmark for anything positive,” Jungkook admitted. He had worked hard to gain back Jimin’s trust, but he still hadn’t quite forgiven himself for what he’d said and done. “The point is, you survived me being an asshole and Tae is usually a better person than me. So, you’ll be fine.”

“I hope you’re right. Anyway, I doubt I’ll tell him unless I absolutely have to,” Jimin replied.

“Well, you know you can call me if you need anything,” Jungkook said. “Besides, Tae’s grandma and mom are really awesome. They’ll spoil the shit out of you, so take a big appetite with you.”

“Are you absolutely sure you won’t come?” Jimin said. He sounded hesitant now, as if he were afraid he was asking something he shouldn’t.

“Not this time,” Jungkook said, keeping his tone soft, apologetic. It actually touched him that Jimin wanted him to be there for support, but he’d been planning this hangout with Yoongi for a while and he didn’t want to miss it. Besides, he wasn’t sure he was ready to face the kindness of Tae’s family after so long of being enemies with him.“It’ll be fine.”

“Promise?” Jimin asked. He sounded so vulnerable that Jungkook’s fist tightened, the urge to touch him strong despite the fact that neither of them was physically next to the other.

Maybe he shouldn’t have let that feeling get to him the way that he did, but he immediately rushed to reassure him, “Yes, I promise. It’ll be fine.”

“Okay, Kookie. I’ll take your word for it,” Jimin said. “Talk to you later?”

“Yeah, later,” Jungkook said. “Bye, Minie.”

He hung up the phone and then took a long moment to just gather the frayed edges of his emotions into something resembling order. He didn’t know what it was about Jimin that got to him this way. It was such a small thing, that promise to talk to him later, the trust the older boy placed in him, but it made him feel raw somehow.

Damn, he was falling hard now and that…that was terrifying.

He kept trying to get his emotions to tone down in their intensity, remembering the way his last crush turned out, but nothing seemed to be working. Every day, Jimin did or said something so unbearably cute that Jungkook wanted to explode and it was made all the worse by the fact that he knew he was lucky just to have Jimin trusting in him as a friend after the terrible way he’d reacted upon seeing him in school that first day. How could he possibly earn enough trust from the other to be anything more than friends? It seemed impossible, and it was all Jungkook’s fault for having reacted the way that he had.

Guilt had become a constant companion lately—did he even have a right to be Jimin’s friend? How could he possibly deserve him?—and those feelings had resulted in several new lines on his wrists and thighs, as if he could release his feelings through the crimson trails of blood on his pale skin. And yet…nothing seemed to work.
Jungkook ‘tsked’ and splashed some water on his face; now wasn’t the time to think about that. He was due to meet Yoongi in fifteen minutes and he didn’t want to be late.

“You’re late,” Taehyung declared as Jimin climbed out of the passenger seat with his bag slung over one shoulder, waving at Jihyun through the window before tapping the top of the vehicle and signaling that he could leave now.

“I am not late,” Jimin complained, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. “You said to meet around four, and it’s just five minutes past.”

Taehyung pouted, folding his arms across his chest. “When I said ‘around’ four, I meant before four—not after. I have this whole big list of things we need to do and now we’re five minutes behind my schedule!”

“You scheduled a sleepover?” Jimin asked incredulously.

“Okay, I get that you’re making fun of me but can you honestly blame me? It’s been ages since I got to have a sleepover. Kookie was the only one that wasn’t too scared to stay at the director’s house and obviously we haven’t been doing that lately,” Taehyung complained.

“Aw, Tae,” Jimin said, feeling a sharp jolt of guilt that he had wanted so badly to avoid this. It was clearly something that Taehyung needed, but for obvious reasons, Jimin did not think he was the best person for this particular function. “Why don’t you ever invite Hobi hyung or one of the girls?”

“For some reason, my grandma doesn’t like Hoseokie’s mom—some kind of dating scandal with my dad, I think? Anyway, she would never let him come over because of that and mom doesn’t think it’s appropriate for girls to come over—as if that makes a difference to me.” Taehyung rolled his eyes.

Jimin giggled, fascinated by the new information. “A dating scandal with your dad?” he asked curiously.

Taehyung nodded earnestly, taking Jimin’s bag from his hands. “Yeah, it was a whole mess. My halmeoni was really protective of my dad since she was his mom and all, and she thought that hyung’s mom broke his heart—never forgave her for it.”

“And did she?” Jimin asked. “Break his heart, I mean.”

“Nope,” Taehyung said with a snort. “They were barely even a couple before Hoseokie’s mom found Hoseokie’s dad and they decided to call it off. Still, they had been good friends growing up and halmeoni thought for sure they’d end up together. If only she knew about what really happened with Kookie…”

“Do you think she’d blame you for that?”

Taehyung shrugged, then reached for the door to hold it open for Jimin. “I don’t know,” Taehyung explained. “Room is upstairs and to the right, by the way—but I doubt it. She knows something happened and that it’s kind of my fault, so she keeps encouraging me to make up with him. But she’s always been really supportive of me when it comes down to it; I guess I’m all she has left of my dad now.”

Jimin nodded, following Taehyung’s instructions until he found himself in a cozy bedroom with dark carpet and a single mattress on the floor, a homemade quilt tossed haphazardly over it as if to resemble a properly made bed. One entire wall was taken up by mirrors, which Jimin soon realized were actually the doors to Taehyung’s roomie closet, filled to the brim with nice clothes that looked as if they cost a fortune despite the general shabbiness of the room itself. “What happened to your dad?” Jimin asked, knowing far too well what it felt like to lose someone and to be forced into a position where you felt obligated to fill their shoes.

“He left us,” Taehyung admitted as he set Jimin’s bag carefully in a corner of the room. “Said something about a new job opportunity but he never comes around anymore. We’re pretty sure he’s got another family out there somewhere, and he’s too ashamed to tell us. We kind of avoid talking about him—even halmeoni. It’s almost like he’s dead.”

Jimin frowned. “I’m sorry, Tae,” he said earnestly.

Taehyung shrugged again, clearly not one to dwell on depressing things. “It’s all in the past now. Why don’t we head downstairs so you can try some of halmeoni’s delicious kimchi?”

“Okay,” Jimin agreed, trying to ease himself into the idea of being here. Maybe Jungkook was right; maybe he was worrying over nothing and he should just enjoy himself.

Taehyung gave him a boxy grin and then led him downstairs to the kitchen. But just before Jimin entered fully, he felt it more than saw it—a shadow. It felt cold and oppressive, but Jimin tried not to think about it, tried to imagine that it was just a normal shadow and planted a smile on his face. She was reaching for his hand now as Taehyung introduced him, the words sounding dull and distant to Jimin’s ears. It’s fine, he thought. Everything is fine. But as he finally looked up at Taehyung’s grandmother smiling brightly at him, the large shadow hovering a short distance away, he flinched.

Her smile faltered, hand halting midair and her questioning gaze going to her grandson. Taehyung nudged him with a shoulder, frowning at Jimin’s perceived disrespect. “P-pleased to meet you,” Jimin said. “But can I be excused for a moment? I just realized I have to go to the bathroom.”

“Of course, dear,” Taehyung’s grandmother said, her smile reforming on her face. “Just through that door.”

Jimin couldn’t move fast enough as he closed the door behind him and immediately pulled out his phone, fingers immediately pecking out Jungkook’s number. He needed the younger boy and he needed him now.

Chapter Text

Jungkook was nervous.

Not about seeing Yoongi—he loved spending time with his hyungs—but there was some part of him that was nervous that he was going to judge him for the whole Jimin situation. Not to mention the older boy was at Taehyung’s right now and had expressed his own worry, and if Jimin was worried about something, so was Jungkook.

He supposed, though, that he should be thankful that Jimin had felt like confiding in him in the first place.

Yoongi and Namjoon lived together in a small apartment just off campus at their university. Joon usually biked to class, while Yoongi (ever the one for moving as little as possible) usually took the bus. Jungkook passed the bus stop on his way in, thankful that he at least had a car. The stop was not well maintained at all, clearly not part of the university system proper. He saw any number of unidentifiable looking stains on the ground and a few seedy looking individuals leering at him from under its cover.

He had already decided that when he graduated, he wanted to go to the same university as his hyungs. He knew he had plenty of time to decide, and that they would likely be close to finished with their undergraduate degrees by the time he got there, but there was still a part of him that hoped they would take their time and maybe get an advanced degree so they would have at least a few years together before adulthood and responsibilities swept them away.

A guy could hope, couldn’t he?

The apartment complex appeared before him, all grey stone and foreboding gates. There was a security guard waiting for him at the entrance, her bright yellow and black uniform announcing her profession in bold block letters. She appeared to be foreign, with curly auburn hair pulled into a ponytail, but rather than stern she smiled at him and beckoned him forward before stepping up to his window.

“You a student?” she asked him, her Korean tinged with some unidentifiable accent.

“Um…Kind of? But not at the university. I’m in high school, but I’m here to visit Min Yoongi—he lives in apartment 4104.”

“Oh! He did tell me you would be coming today. Such a polite boy,” she said. “I always admire someone that works as hard as he does and goes to school at the same time. Can I see some ID?”

Wondering at how anyone could say Yoongi was a “polite boy,” Jungkook pulled his wallet out and handed it to her through the window. To his surprise, the lady’s face clouded with dismay. He felt immediately self-conscious, wondering if there was something terrifyingly wrong with his ID. Had someone stolen his identity and started a life of crime?

But she didn’t look angry. Just sad. “It gets better,” she said enigmatically, passing the wallet back. As Jungkook accepted it, wondering at the strange words, he realized that his sleeve must have caught on the window, letting her see the scars that lined his wrists.

He blushed, feeling ashamed of himself. He muttered some excuse, but he could tell she didn’t buy it—her eyes were far too knowing. Still, she waved him through the gate.

It was a decidedly flustered Jungkook that finally knocked on Yoongi’s door a few moments later, feeling uncomfortable that a complete stranger had (yet again) seen through to the broken person he was upon the very first meeting. When had he gotten so bad at hiding himself? At least there was no chance of anything more complicated there. She was a well-meaning stranger, but a stranger nonetheless.

Yoongi opened the door, looking sleepy eyed but pleased to see Jungkook nevertheless. His smile slipped upon seeing the scattered state the boy’s mind was in, ushering him in quickly and offering some soda.

“We have soju, but something tells me you should avoid that at the moment,” Yoongi said.

Jungkook smiled, embarrassed. “Probably,” he agreed. “I’ll take the soda.”

Yoongi tossed him the soda from the fridge, getting a beer for himself. “How’s school?”

Jungkook shrugged, setting the soda on the corner of the coffee table, which was covered in massive philosophy books—no doubt Joon’s mess. “It’s all right,” Jungkook answered. “I kind of missed a lot of it last week though.”

“How come?”

Jungkook sighed, rolling his eyes. “Don’t act like Hoseok didn’t tell you all about my spectacular fail in his class which resulted in a bruised tailbone and my complete loss of all dignity.”

Yoongi snickered. “I just wanted to hear you say it—you busted your ass. Literally.”

“Shut up,” Jungkook said, punching Yoongi’s arm lightly.

“Hey, respect your elders,” he admonished before taking a sip at his beer. “But that’s not why you look like someone shit in your cereal is it?”

“I don’t want to talk about that just yet,” Jungkook said, waving it away.

“What do you want to talk about then?” Yoongi asked, arching an eyebrow. “Maybe the reason for your busted ass?”

Jungkook opened his mouth to protest, then shook his head, a rueful smile making its way onto his face. “Yeah, actually. I took your advice, hyung—I talked to my crush.”

“Yeah? And how did it go?”

“Terrible,” he said. “As you well know. He threw a drink on me. But after I hurt myself, he was nicer to me. Maybe I should do that more often.”

Yoongi barked a laugh. “Yes, because tailbone injuries are the key to a successful romance.”

“You laugh, but it’s true! He stayed at my house the whole week. Brought me homework, fluffed my pillows…”

“Kissed your ass?”

This time, Jungkook threw the throw pillow he was sitting on at his hyung, which caused the elder to retaliate immediately. It wasn’t long before the smaller man got the upper hand, whapping Jungkook across his head repeatedly with the pillow he’d thrown. Jungkook couldn’t help but laugh, his earlier discomfort forgotten as he half-heartedly defended himself.

“There,” Yoongi said, sounding satisfied as he sat back and folded his arms. “That’s the Kook I know.”

Jungkook ducked his head bashfully, attempting to straighten out his hair which had been ruined by the horseplay. “Hyung…” he complained.

“So…this guy…”

“Jimin,” Jungkook supplied, in case Yoongi had forgotten his name—or in case he hadn’t mentioned it. Jungkook honestly couldn’t remember.

“Jimin…he’s good to you?”

Jungkook nodded. “Better than I deserve,” he said. “I was such a dick to him.”

“We all protect ourselves in different ways. Do you know how long it took me to get Hoseok to open up to me?”

Jungkook shook his head; Hoseok had always seemed so open to him, but then the relationship with him was different from that which he shared with Yoongi for obvious reasons.

“Over a year. He’s always so sunny and open, but did you know he struggled with depression, too? It nearly killed him. I’m only telling you this because Hoseok said I can; he’s worried about you. We all are.”

“What?” Jungkook asked, blindsided by the information dump. Hoseok had been depressed? They were still worried about him?

“You haven’t been yourself lately. And it’s not just this Jimin thing that has you all twisted up. We tried to give you your space, but now…”

“Hyung, is this an intervention?” Jungkook asked, frowning.

Yoongi scoffed. “Of course not. An intervention would be all of us here, tearfully confessing our love for you and a desire to change your life. This is just me, telling you that we’re worried and that we want you to be okay. So, what’s been going on? Why were you so flustered when you first got here?”

Jungkook bit his lip, fiddling with his sleeve. He didn’t know if he could tell Yoongi about the cutting. He didn’t know if he should. It was the only thing that made him feel okay some days, and the last thing he wanted was for that little bit of control to be taken away from him by concerned friends.

But he also knew it was wrong. He knew that he shouldn’t hurt himself on purpose, that doing so was a sure sign of mental illness and everyone would be disappointed and probably angry if they found out some other way. “I…uh…”

Yoongi’s eyes slid to his fidgeting fingers, then back up to Jungkook’s face knowingly. It was now or never.

Jungkook sighed and slid his sleeve up his arm, revealing the scars to his hyung. He refused to meet the elder’s eyes as he did so, bracing himself for the lecture that was sure to come.

“How long?” Yoongi asked.

Jungkook looked up in surprise. He had been expecting anger or intense worry to be on Yoongi’s face only to see understanding there instead. Jungkook shrugged. “Less than a month,” he answered. “It started out as an accident.”

“It usually does,” Yoongi said. “That the only place?”

Jungkook shook his head.

“It was the thighs for me. Never did the wrists—too hard to hide.”

“Hyung, you mean…”

“Yeah,” Yoongi said. “Me too. Look, I know this is all new for you…”

“Not that new,” Jungkook replied. “I mean, the cutting is. But the feelings…it’s been going on for a while.” Too long.

Yoongi nodded. “I know you probably don’t want to hear this right now, but have you considered getting a therapist?”

Jungkook laughed bitterly. “And say what, I live with a silver spoon in my mouth but somehow I’m still fucking miserable? I already feel shitty enough about it without a therapist thinking I’m some entitled brat.”

“Depression isn’t reserved for the poor, Kook. It happens to anyone, even without reason. There’s no shame in what you’re feeling,” Yoongi said.

“And yet…”

“I get it,” Yoongi said. “It took me a while to come to terms with it, too. But you know you still have us, right? We’re not going anywhere. You may not feel ready to talk to a therapist, but you can still talk to us.”

Jungkook smiled. “Yeah, I know. Why do you think I’m admitting all this to you?”

While he hadn’t intended to spill all of this to Yoongi today, it felt good to get at least some of it off his chest. He still didn’t think he was going to be able to really talk about how close he’d come to killing himself, how he met Jimin. That still felt like something that he wanted to keep between them. But to talk to someone that got it was a hell of a relief.

“Does your new boyfriend know?” Yoongi asked, a bit of lightheartedness creeping into his tone despite the nature of the question.

“He’s not my boyfriend, hyung,” Jungkook said. “We’ve barely gotten to proper friend status thanks to my fumbling. But yes, he does know.”

“Good. You know I’m gonna have to meet him, right?”

Jungkook opened his mouth to respond, but that was when his phone went off. “One sec, it’s him,” Jungkook told Yoongi.

The elder waved his hand as if to say ‘carry on,’ and Jungkook answered the phone. “Minie? What’s up?”

“Jungkookie…I think Tae’s grandma is going to die and I don’t know what to do,” came the tense voice on the other line.

Chapter Text

A knock came on the door and Jimin nearly dropped his phone in the toilet. “You all right in there, Jiminie?”

“I’m fine, Tae. Just give me a minute,” Jimin said, sounding more breathless than he intended.

“Are you sick?” Taehyung asked, concern coloring his tone.

“Jimin-ssi?” Jungkook’s voice asked over the phone and Jimin was afraid that Taehyung would hear so he quickly hung up. He felt guilty about it, but Jungkook would understand. He had to.

Jimin opened the door, trying to smile. “I do feel a little under the weather,” he admitted. “Maybe I should just go home?”

“Don’t be silly!” Taehyung declared. “I’ll just take care of you.”

Jimin loved Taehyung’s well-meaning nature, but boy, was it irking him now. He didn’t know what to do. He genuinely felt it was his job to prevent deaths that he predicted, but how did you prevent the death of someone’s grandmother? It could be any number of things that killed her; heart attack, stroke, a bad fall…he didn’t know where to even start. “Thanks,” he murmured.

“Do you at least feel up to dinner?” Taehyung asked.

Wishing he could disappear through the floor, all Jimin could do was nod. If Tae’s grandma did choke, he felt at least reasonably prepared to give the Heimlich. He was pretty sure it wouldn’t be as simple as that, but it was the least he could do.

“Are you all right, dear?” she asked as he returned to the kitchen.

“I’ll be okay.” Jimin smiled, but he was afraid the smile might give away the unspoken thought: but you won’t.
The food really did smell delicious and he really was hungry. He felt incredibly guilty about eating the food of a woman he might not be able to save, but they both looked so pleased when he took a bite that he couldn’t help but finish everything on his plate. “Where’s your mom, Tae-ah?” Jimin asked curiously, doing his best to ignore the sense of impending doom that hung over him.

“She’s on a trip to see some of her friends from university,” Tae explained, shoveling another spoonful of food into his mouth. Taehyung ate with as much gusto as he did everything in life, one of the many things Jimin loved about his newly acquired best friend. He worried, however, what an actual loss might do to him. Would he still have that same carefree, boxy smile? That enthusiasm for life?

In essence, Jimin was afraid that he might not just fail to save the woman across from him—he might fail to save his best friend too.

“You must be tired,” Tae’s grandmother said, smiling kindly at him. “Would you perhaps like to go to bed?”

Jimin didn’t know. He glanced at Tae, then at his grandmother. There was something familiar about her gaze. It seemed to take in so much more than what met the naked eye. He opened his mouth, perhaps to ask her something, but he closed it immediately because he wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to ask.

“Taehyung,” his grandmother said briskly, drawing the gangly boy’s attention. “Why don’t you head upstairs and get the covers rolled down? Jimin-ah can help me with clearing the table before I send him up to bed.”

“Is that all right with you, Jiminie?”

“Um, yes,” Jimin said, smiling quickly. “It would be my pleasure.”

“Such a polite boy,” Tae’s grandmother said, patting his hand twice before standing and taking both her and Taehyung’s plates.

Jimin moved to quickly follow, gathering up the cutlery as Taehyung hurried upstairs.

As he reached the sink at the old woman’s side, she took the cutlery from his hands and laid them aside. “You see them, too, don’t you?”

Jimin was supremely thankful at that moment that the woman had taken what he had been holding, as he would definitely have dropped it all. “What?” he choked.

The old woman chuckled. “Your reaction speaks for itself. How long?” she asked.

“I’m not sure I follow,” Jimin said, thinking maybe he was getting the wrong idea.

“How long have you been able to see them?”

“Who’s them?” Jimin asked. He needed her to say it out loud, clearly and without any room for interpretation.

“The Shadow People,” she said, and it was almost as if time stood still. He had never met anyone who could see the shadows before, and certainly nobody that called them Shadow People as if it were a proper title, as if she knew who and what they were.

“You too?” he asked incredulously.

“Ever since I was a small girl,” Taehyung’s grandmother said, turning away and beginning to rinse things off in the sink. Jimin hurried to her side, helping to organize them for easy reach. “And you?”

“As long as I can remember,” Jimin answered. “I didn’t know what they were at first.”

“And you think you know now?” she asked, sounding amused.

“Well,” Jimin began, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he searched for the proper words. A shadow flitted around in his peripheral vision, making him feel cold and vaguely ill. “Not really. I just know that when I see them, somebody dies.”

“They’re more than omens, child,” she said. “Though they are that, too, I suppose. Some are like vultures, simply following those whose time is nearly up in the hopes of a good meal. Others…”

The plate clanked in the sink as Tae’s grandmother’s grip slipped, the corner of the plate chipping. She cursed, clenching her eyes shut. “Damn these old bones of mine…” she said.

“You mentioned others?” Jimin asked, almost not wanting to hear the answer but knowing that he should.

“Others, dear boy, cause it.”

Jimin felt his heart jump as he looked around at the shadows, which seemed even more malevolent now than before. But rather than seem alarmed, Tae’s grandmother simply chuckled. “Don’t worry, these ones are the vulture kind. I’m old and my time is almost up. But you, I fear, have a rather tall shadow looming over you. One of the Others.”

Jimin definitely didn’t want to hear this. He had seen no such shadow around him, but why would she make this up? Maybe she was crazy. Hell, maybe he was crazy, too.

“It feeds off your misery,” she continued, her voice sad. “Pushes you towards things it knows will hurt you. Whispers in your mother’s ear as she sleeps. It wants to push you into making the wrong choices. And it won’t stop until…”

“Until what?” Jimin asked, heart sitting somewhere in his throat.

But what it was, Jimin didn’t get to find out as Taehyung bounded down the stairs a moment later. “I’m finished! Bed’s all ready for you, Jiminie.”

“I’m not…”

“Hurry to bed, dear boy. You must get your rest while you can. Don’t worry, your shadow won’t plague you here, at least,” Taehyung’s grandmother promised.

“But…”

“Come on!” Taehyung said, all but dragging Jimin up the stairs to bed, completely oblivious to how strange a promise to make that was. Maybe he was just used to having a cryptic grandmother, but whatever the case, Jimin was troubled. What had she meant? Why wouldn’t “it” plague him here and how come he had never seen any shadow around himself in particular?

“Are you listening to me?” Taehyung asked, pouting. “I was just asking if you wanted to wear my pajamas—they’re super comfy, far comfier than those ones you have. They’re really expensive, but…”

“Listen, Tae-ah,” Jimin began, realizing that it was now or never. “Your grandmother said something really strange to me and I…”

“Oh, she says weird stuff all the time. Eomma says it’s just part of getting older. Your mind can play tricks on you, or…”

“No, it’s not that. Tae, if you would just listen…”

“I am listening, Jiminie, but quite frankly I don’t get it. This is supposed to be a sleepover, but ever since you got here you’ve been acting really weird. I want to be a good friend, but I don’t know how I’m supposed to do that if you keep on pushing me away,” Taehyung said.

“I’m not pushing you away,” Jimin said, verging on desperate. “I see things, okay. Just like your grandmother. I know it sounds crazy, but ever since I got here, I’ve been seeing these shadows around her and I think it means she’s going to die soon!”

It was too much. Jimin knew it as soon as he said the words. Tae’s whole face froze, fury and hurt warring across his face until it landed instead on a blank expression. “That’s not funny,” he said, clenching his jaw.

“Of course it’s not funny, because this isn’t a joke. She…”

And just then, the sound of glass shattering on the ground echoed up the stairs from the kitchen. Both boys were up and running a second later, but Jimin knew it was too late as soon as he hit the landing.

A swarm of black shadows, bigger and darker than he’d ever seen before, circled the frail shape on the ground, pieces of the plate she had been holding laying on the floor next to her. Even as he stared at them in horror, however, they gave a mighty shriek and dissipated into the air.

Tae let out a shout of horror which brought Jimin back to the present, calling out for his halmeoni as he lifted her off the ground and shook her by her shoulders, trying to wake her.

But Jimin knew: she wasn’t sleeping.

Taehyung was crying now, yelling at him to do something, but Jimin didn’t know what he could do. It wasn’t like he could bring back the dead.

Just then, the doorbell rang. Taehyung continued crying and rocking his grandmother, so Jimin padded slowly down the stairs and opened the door.

Jungkook stood there, looking pale and frantic, eyes wide as saucers and breath heaving as if he’d run a mile. His gaze flicked from Jimin’s shocked face to Taehyung still in the kitchen with his unresponsive grandmother, and then he turned to Yoongi.

The elder had come to stand behind Jungkook, face impassive in the moonlight and hands planted firmly inside the front pocket of his hoodie.

“I think you’d better call an ambulance, hyung,” Jungkook said.

Chapter Text

The ride back home was quiet. Jimin had been crying silently the entire time, tears streaming down his face. All Jungkook could do was watch him out of the corner of his eye and worry. What should he do?

Yoongi caught his gaze in in the rearview mirror and then narrowed his eyes, nodding his head slightly. It was almost as if he were giving him permission, but permission for what? Just then, Jimin sniffled and wiped his nose on the sleeve of his pullover, and that was all Jungkook needed to know what he should do. He reached over and took the older boy’s hand.

Jimin looked startled at first, as if he couldn’t quite comprehend why Jungkook was holding his hand, but then he squeezed it lightly—gratefully—and Jungkook knew it had been the right thing to do.

They had been at Taehyung’s house for the better part of two hours. Paramedics had come and attempted to revive the fallen woman to no avail and then they all had to make statements. Nobody suspected anything amiss—why would they?—but it was apparently a whole process when someone passed away and they had to make damn sure. It had all been too much for both Jimin and Taehyung, all the questions and paperwork. By the time the paramedics had driven away with Tae’s grandmother’s corpse, Tae’s mother had returned and told them it would be best if Yoongi took both Jungkook and Jimin home while they mourned their loss. They had agreed and left promptly, but some part of both Jimin and Jungkook had wanted to stay and comfort their friend. Nevertheless, Taehyung hadn’t so much as looked at them and they took the hint.

When Yoongi pulled into his drive, Jungkook squeezed his shoulder in thanks and then pulled Jimin out with him. “Your mom’s not expecting you back tonight anyway, so you may as well stay with me,” Jungkook said.

Jimin nodded, either too spent or too sad or too something to say a word. Jungkook understood.

He was heartbroken, too. Taehyung’s grandmother had been one of the kindest people he’d ever known and to lose her was a loss that the world wouldn’t soon get over. But what he didn’t think Jimin understood that it absolutely wasn’t his fault. She was just old—these things happened.

Still, those words didn’t quite feel right so Jungkook held them in. “You should take a shower,” Jungkook said once they’d reached his room. He had grabbed Jimin’s bag out of Taehyung’s room before they left and now he set it down on his bed before removing his coat and heading to the linen closet.

“Do I smell bad?” Jimin said, voice clogged with tears.

“No, stupid,” Jungkook said without heat. “But showers are relaxing.” [i]And they hide the tears,[/i] Jungkook added mentally but not aloud. He was far too acquainted with the desire to hide one’s feelings deep inside and had utilized the shower to its fullest capabilities.

Jimin didn’t argue—didn’t even admonish him for calling him stupid, which Jungkook felt mildly disappointed about—and simply nodded, taking a towel that Jungkook handed him from the linen closet.

As Jimin showered, Jungkook changed into his PJs and climbed into his bed. Staring up at the ceiling, Jungkook went over all the things he could say to Jimin to make him feel better, but nothing really seemed to be coming to mind. It was maddening, because usually it was Jimin making Jungkook feel better—not the other way around. If their positions had been reversed, Jungkook just knew Jimin would know precisely what to say or do.

But Jungkook? He was so far outside of his comfort zone that it was laughable, really.

He heard the shower turn off and considered pretending to be asleep, but that seemed cowardly even to him. So instead, he rolled over so that he was facing the door when Jimin stepped in, toweling his hair dry—and not wearing a shirt.

Jungkook was relatively certain that he was drooling as he stared, but how could he not? Who had given this angel permission to enter his room looking like [i]that[/i]?

“My shirt got wet when I turned on the shower,” Jimin said sadly—though if he was still just sad about Tae’s grandmother or that his shirt was wet, Jungkook’s brain was not equipped to differentiate right now. God, Jimin was beautiful.

It was only when Jimin blushed furiously and denied it that Jungkook realized he’d said it out loud and his own embarrassment was profound. “Sorry,” he said. “That was…really forward.”

“You can’t just throw things like that around, Kook. People might…well, I might take it seriously and that would be terrible,” Jimin said.

Jungkook’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean? I’m pretty sure I’ve never hidden the fact that I find you attractive,” Jungkook said.

Jimin’s eyebrow lifted and Jungkook immediately shook his head. “Those first couple of times don’t count.”

“Okay, but it’s different now,” Jimin countered, quickly going over to grab a t-shirt from his bag. Jungkook was disappointed as he pulled it over his head, covering himself once more.

“How do you mean?” Jungkook asked, and this time there was real hurt in his voice. Yeah, things were different—but he thought it had been a good thing.

“Now…” Jimin looked conflicted, tugging the ends of his shirt out of nervousness. “Now, there’s a good chance I might like you too.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yes, but Jungkook you’re not getting it…us falling for each other would be a bad thing,” Jimin said.

“I think you’re wrong,” Jungkook returned, standing up from the bed and tugging Jimin closer to him. “I think you’ve been my angel since we met, even when I was too dense to appreciate it.”

“That’s the thing, Kookie,” Jimin said, and his voice was sad. “You needed saving and I was happy to do it, but what if one day, it’s not enough? What if, just like tonight, I see that shadow and I can’t do anything about it?”

“Then I would say it’s not your fault,” Jungkook said confidently. “Some people, it’s just their time to go. Some of us, we hasten it more than we should. Others, they’ve lived full lives and are okay with going. Honestly, all I can say is that if you’re here, then I’m less likely to die. And that’s something.”

“But not enough. I can’t love you just to lose you…” Jimin said, and because Jungkook saw that he was going to cry again, he decided to do something drastic: he closed the distance between the two of them and pressed his lips to Jimin’s.

The kiss was as much a surprise to Jungkook as it must have been to Jimin, because both of them tensed up for a moment. Jungkook was afraid he’d gone too far, Jimin just surprised that he had done it—but then, just like that first time on the bridge, Jimin melted into it. They kissed like starved men, like two people that had been waiting for centuries to give in to one another and now that they had, they didn’t know how to stop.

Jimin pushed Jungkook back until the back of his legs hit the edge of his bed and then the younger went down, Jimin right on top. The shirt came off faster than it had come on, landing in a pile somewhere behind Jimin.

Jungkook didn’t know how he’d managed to resist kissing him again since that first time. Now that it was happening again, this time in a situation slightly less dire for himself personally, he was able to properly appreciate the plushness of Jimin’s lips, of the way his body felt pressed against his.

Jimin was very different this time, too. Where he had been pliant before, he was almost aggressive now and honestly, Jungkook didn’t mind it.

It was what he’d expected to feel if he had stepped off that bridge: weightless, victorious, freefalling and at peace all at once. He was once again reminded of the premonition he’d had that night too—that Jimin was going to be his undoing even more than the bridge.

Jungkook ran his hands up Jimin’s hips to his waist, squeezing almost hard enough to leave bruises as he desperately kissed Jimin, but the elder grabbed his hands and pinned them above his head, removing his ability to touch back. It was maddening and arousing all at once.

This was a new side of Jimin. Jungkook thought he’d been soft, but right now, he was anything but. Helplessly, Jungkook canted his hips to get some contact—any contact—with the other, but it seemed that had been too much.

Jimin scrambled back off of him, touching his fingers to his lips as if he couldn’t believe they’d betrayed him. Jungkook sighed heavily and closed his eyes before pushing himself back into a sitting position. “You’re really gonna leave me hanging like that?”

“I…” Jimin began, then stopped, pursing his lips. “I think we’re moving too fast.”

Jungkook wanted to die because quite frankly, all he wanted in the world was to move fast with Jimin. But he also knew that pushing the other wasn’t an option. “All right, I understand. But can you please come back to bed? At least let me hold you.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, either,” Jimin said, but he moved to join Jungkook on the bed nevertheless.

Jungkook buried his face against Jimin’s shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to the flesh there. “You know I’ve been kind of in love with you since the first night?”

“You can’t love someone you don’t know,” Jimin murmured.

“Maybe. But I felt it anyways. It was terrifying, actually.” Jungkook sighed. “That’s why I acted the way I did when we started school. Well, one of the reasons. But now I’m not afraid of how I feel. I just hope that maybe, one day, you’ll grow to feel the same.”

“Oh, Kookie,” Jimin said, turning around so that he was now facing Jungkook. His small hand caressed his cheek, eyes steady on Jungkook’s face. “I think I already do. It’s just…I’m scared I’ll hurt you.”

“You could never,” Jungkook said. “You’re too soft.”

Jimin pinched him. “Don’t contradict your hyung,” he admonished. “But in all seriousness, there is one thing I want to tell you before we go any further with this conversation.”

“What is it?” Jungkook asked, genuinely curious.

“Those shadows…Taehyung’s mom could see them too. And she told me…” Here, Jimin took a deep breath. “She told me that I was in danger. That I have one that follows me around and feeds off my misery. I’m terrified that it’ll hurt everyone I love just to make me more miserable. I’m terrified it’ll hurt you.”

“Jimin, I don’t want to belittle your feelings, but you can’t let some shadow dictate your level of misery. There comes a point where you have to risk it. And it might not be the most comforting thing in the world to hear, but honestly, I don’t think there’s anything in this world that is capable of hurting me more than myself. I’m working on it, but just…know that if I suffer, it’s usually because of me and has nothing to do with you.”

“You’re right, that’s not comforting at all,” Jimin said. “I want to protect you from suffering.”

“And I want to protect you, too. But you can’t protect me from everything, just like I can’t protect you from everything. I can’t make it so that you don’t see these…these things. But I do know that if you don’t live with as much happiness as you can, you’re giving it exactly what it wants. And I’m not partial to giving creepy evil things what they want.”

Jimin giggled and pressed a chaste kiss to Jungkook’s lips, the first kiss that he had initiated himself. “I’m not, either. I just…guess I wanted to give you fair warning.”

“Warning received,” Jungkook said, “Danger: Park Jimin’s got evil shadows stalking him. But you know what? It’s worth having it blow up in my face if I can get just one day with him.”

“You only say that ‘cause you’re willing to die,” Jimin said sadly.

“And you only say that ‘cause you’re too afraid to live,” Jungkook returned. “But for now, let’s just sleep.”

Jimin sighed and nodded, snuggling deeper into Jungkook’s bed. The younger pulled a blanket over both of them and then wrapped his arms around Jimin, resting his cheek against the top of his head.

He didn’t know much about evil shadows, but he did know this: he would do anything and everything to protect Park Jimin, shadows or not.

Chapter Text

Some time passed quickly after that first proper, reciprocal kiss. Jimin wasn’t sure what he had with Jungkook now—a relationship, friends with benefits, something else entirely—but whatever it was, it seemed to be a regular occurrence now. Every time Jimin ran into him at school, Jungkook made a point of kissing him and offering to carry his books. It was adorable.

But as nice as it was, Jimin still couldn’t quite let go of the fear instilled in him by Taehyung’s grandmother. Her warning was an ever-present force in his head, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he had somehow caused her death by being in her house. She had assured him that her time had almost been up, but that didn’t mean he wanted to hasten it any further.

Since then, Taehyung hadn’t been at school. It made sense, with funeral preparations and everything else, who had time for algebraic equations? But more difficult was the utter silence from him—Jimin had sent him more than one message asking him if he was okay, if he needed anything, but Taehyung had ignored all of them.

Although they hadn’t known each other long, Jimin had gotten incredibly close with him. He’d been his first real friend in Seoul, the person that made everything make a little more sense. Without him, Jimin felt like a castaway. If it hadn’t been for Jungkook—who was also only in Jimin’s life through Taehyung’s efforts—he would have gone insane ages ago and just hid away somewhere.

As it was, Jungkook made sure to spend as much time as he could with him. He kept telling Jimin that Taehyung didn’t have a hateful bone in his body and that, even if he was hurting and distant now, it wouldn’t last. Jimin hoped he was right, but it didn’t make the wait any less agonizing.

“You’re doing it again,” Jungkook’s voice said, pulling Jimin out of his reverie.

“Huh?” Jimin replied intelligently.

“The staring off, getting lost in your thoughts. It’s like you’re not even here,” Jungkook answered.

“Sorry, Kookie,” Jimin said, kissing the other. “I just can’t stop thinking about Tae-ah.”

“I know what you mean,” Jungkook said. “It’s killing me, too. And that’s pretty wild, considering I’d been actively cutting him out just a little while ago.”

“Guess I’ve rubbed off on you,” Jimin said, smiling.

“Well, you can rub me any way you like,” Jungkook said, wagging his eyebrows. It was an obvious attempt to distract Jimin from his thoughts of Taehyung and although it didn’t quite work, he appreciated the effort and rewarded the other with a shove.

“Time and place, Kook,” he admonished, cheeks turning a faint pink but unable to stop the smile.
“It was too hard to resist,” Jungkook said confidently. “Anyway, I think we should go out properly to get our minds off things. Hoseokie is throwing a party this weekend and he wants us both to attend, so what do you think?”

Jimin considered. He’d received the same invitation from Hoseok the day before, but hadn’t been sure what answer to give. He hated parties—way too many people and way too many dangers for him to realistically unwind and enjoy himself.

But Jungkook did look excited at the prospect, and maybe he could use a little fun himself. If he took the proper precautions, wearing his sunglasses and everything, maybe they could all enjoy themselves. It would be nice to see the hyungs too.

“Sure,” he said. “As long as Hoseok won’t think I’m a prick for wearing sunglasses inside.”

Jungkook laughed. “Don’t worry, we’ll think of something to explain it. Ever considered telling the others about your ‘gift?’”

Jimin shook his head. “I tried that with Tae and it didn’t work out so well, remember? Anyway, I doubt they’d believe it,” Jimin answered.

“You never know,” Jungkook said. “Maybe it’d make you feel better if people knew about it.”

Jimin didn’t argue. There wasn’t much point. Nobody really understood what it was like to be him and the one person who might have was gone now. He regretted that he wouldn’t get a chance to learn more from her, but it was what it was. All he could do now was move forward with the same bumbling imperfection he’d employed thus far.

“Anyway, gotta head to class. So, we’re on for the party?”

“Yes, I believe we are,” Jimin said and then watched as Jungkook grinned and waved at him. Seeing the younger boy so carefree despite everything was always a breath of fresh air. It was hard to believe that not so very long ago he’d been moments from leaping off a bridge to his death.

What would the world be without Jeon Jungkook in it now? Jimin didn’t ever want to find out. He thought Jungkook was doing better now, at least.

I did one thing right at least, Jimin thought fondly, and then headed to his own class.

The party was exactly what Jimin thought it would be: loud, crowded, and absolutely terrifying.

Jungkook, however, looked hugely pleased. He pulled Jimin through the crowd, leading him through the large house and out to the backyard. There was a pool, but it was far too cold still for any swimming. Instead, most of the people outside were dancing in the open space of the rather large yard—including none other than Jung Hoseok.

Yoongi, quite out of his element, sat on one of the loungers and sipped a beer; his eyes were hooded, but locked on Hoseok’s gyrating form as if he couldn’t look at anything else—and didn’t want to. The rest of their friends were there, too. Even Jin, who was feeding some party food to Namjoon to get his approval.

The easy friendship between the group was clear; even though he heard that Namjoon and Jin had their differences and had become somewhat estranged, they seemed to be able to put it all aside for everyone in this setting. He hoped that Taehyung would be able to put his grief aside and talk to Jimin again, too, but he knew he couldn’t rush it.

“Hey!” Jungkook greeted. “Look who I brought!”

“Jiminie!” Hoseok crowed, stopping mid-dance to drape himself over Jimin. “My star pupil! I’m so glad you could make it!”

Jimin giggled. “Good to see you too, hyung,” Jimin said.

Yoongi stood from his lounger and reached instead into a cooler, pulling out a couple more beers and handing one to each of them.

Jimin wasn’t much of a drinker, but not wanting to seem pathetic, he quickly opened it and took a long sip. He tried not to make a face, but it was obvious from the snicker Yoongi let out that he hadn’t been successful.

“Jiminie doesn’t drink much,” Jungkook said.

“Maybe you just haven’t been giving him the right drinks,” Jin pointed out, coming over and slinging an arm around the youngest. “Have you ever tired one of my prized margaritas?”

“Obviously not,” Namjoon said. “This is his first big party with us.”

“Ohh, then I’ll be right back! You can throw that nasty beer away,” Jin said, and before Jimin could do anything he had whisked the can away and handed it to Namjoon, who simply shrugged before taking a sip.

“Well,” Jimin said, awkwardly stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Don’t worry, hyung,” Jungkook said, “His margarita is well worth the hype.”

“I’ll never forget my first,” Hoseok said, wiping a fake tear out of his eye.

“Get real, you probably don’t remember that entire night,” Yoongi scoffed.

“True,” Hoseok replied thoughtfully, “I did have like six of them…”

Jimin giggled, already feeling a little bit better about this party. They hadn’t even asked him about his sunglasses or anything and now Jungkook was putting an arm around him, almost possessively, and it felt good, it felt right.

But that’s when Taehyung arrived.

It wasn’t that Jimin hadn’t wanted to see him; it was just unexpected. He’d heard no word from him—not even an “I’m okay”—so he was pretty much the last person he expected to see here.

“Tae! You made it!” Hoseok crowed, pulling Taehyung into his arms and holding him tightly, swaying back and forth. “I’m so sorry about your loss. Your grandmother was a goddess.”

“It’s okay, hyung. I’ll be okay,” Taehyung said. He didn’t look especially okay, red-rimmed eyes and gaunt cheeks and grief in every line of his shoulder. But Jimin didn’t know if it was his place—or the right time—for him to say anything.

Wordlessly, Taehyung allowed the others to hug him. Jungkook’s arm tightened around Jimin’s shoulders as Taehyung glanced at them. “So, you two are a thing now?” Taehyung said, attempting to smile.

Jimin opened his mouth, but didn’t know what to say—were they a thing?

But Jungkook apparently did know what to say. “Yep, we are. It’s still in the early stages, but…well…here we are.”

“What! Why didn’t you say something sooner!?” Hoseok demanded.

Namjoon smiled a wide, dimpled smile and held up his drink in a toast. “Congrats, kids.”

Yoongi’s smirk was knowing, but Jimin watched Taehyung for his reaction. He was still smiling, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He was obviously still torn up about his grandmother, and Jimin wondered if part of the lack of actual enthusiasm was because he still blamed Jimin for it.

“I’m gonna go find Jin,” Taehyung said. “I think I’m gonna need at least three of those margaritas of his.”

“I’ll go with you,” Jimin said.

“That’s okay, Jiminie. Stay with your mans,” Taehyung said.

With that, he vanished inside. Jimin frowned.

“I’ll go check on him, Minie,” Jungkook said, pressing a kiss to his temple and releasing him. Jimin watched him disappear inside after Taehyung and sighed.

“Come on!” Hoseok suddenly chirped, slipping his arm through Jimin’s. “Let’s go say hi to some of the others! We’ll be back in time for your ‘rita.”

It was clearly a distraction tactic, but honestly, Jimin needed it. He had to be confident that everything would be fine and he did have other friends besides Taehyung that he should probably say hi to. So, he allowed himself to be pulled along, waving daintily at the rest of their friends as Hoseok tugged him away.

Jungkook found Jin in the kitchen as expected, but Taehyung had already vanished. “Where’s Tae?” Jungkook asked.

“Oh? He just came in here, asked for three margaritas, then said he was going to greet some folks. Help me with these, Kookie?”

Jungkook wanted to go after Taehyung, but he also didn’t know what more he could say. Honestly, he’d just offered to go after him so Jimin wouldn’t be an anxious wreck all night. Parties were meant to be fun, after all.

So, he did as Jin bade and began helping him with the drinks. He was sure Taehyung would be fine.

Taehyung was not fine.

In fact, he was just the opposite. He’d come to this party because he’d wanted to forget how empty his home was without his grandmother in it anymore. He wanted his friends to distract and entertain him, to keep his mind off his loss.

Instead, as soon as he’d arrived he’d seen Jimin and the whole night that he lost his grandmother came rushing in.

He didn’t blame Jimin—not really—but he couldn’t look at him now without associating him with that night. Most of all, he couldn’t forget the way Jimin had told him she was going to die before it happened. It was scary and awful and Taehyung couldn’t believe his friend really had those abilities. How could things be the same?

They couldn’t, that was how. And now that Jimin and Jungkook were an actual couple, Taehyung didn’t think either one of them would have time to spare for him anyway. They’d gotten what they wanted—he’d hooked them up. What else was there?

As Taehyung moved through the house, he allowed himself to accept every drink handed to him. And there were a lot—not only was Taehyung one of the most popular kids in school, but everyone knew about his grandmother’s death and wanted to play their own special part in getting him drunk enough to forget. He was grateful for that.

He downed his third drink—rum & coke?—and then found a fourth—lukewarm beer, gross—before stumbling into someone.

“Hey watch—Oh, it’s you,” Donghyun’s voice growled.

“What’re you doing here?” Taehyung slurred, narrowing his eyes at the tall form of Jungkook’s former hanger-on. “Hoseokie hates you.”

Donghyun sneered. “Yeah, well, he can join the club. I never miss a party.”

Taehyung giggled. “Me neither. Say, why don’t you and I hang for a little?”

It was a mistake. Taehyung knew it as soon as the words were out of his mouth. But honestly, he was too wasted and wanted a proper distraction. What better than this asshole? He couldn’t handle any more condolences or well-wishes, couldn’t bear to watch all his friends being in love with each other while he hung off to the side and pretended to be okay.

Besides, he was due for a mistake after the universe had fucked him over so royally.

Donghyun’s grin was suggestive and terrible and everything Taehyung wanted. “Let’s go, then.”

And as his hand clamped down on Taehyung’s arm, he allowed himself to be taken to one of the empty bedrooms, closing the door soundly behind them.

Chapter Text

“Where’s Kookie?” Jimin asked when he’d returned from seeing Yugyeom, Lisa, BamBam, and everyone else Hoseok took him to see. They were all drunk, happy, doing well. It had made Jimin happy to see them, but now he just wanted his boyfriend and he wasn’t there.

Jin, however, had a tray full of margaritas, which he set down on the patio table. Nearby, a couple of idiots jumped into the freezing pool, screeching and shouting obscenities at the temperature of the water. Jimin made a disgusted face at them—didn’t they know how dangerous that was?

“He went to find Taehyungie,” Jin said. “But knowing him, he got pulled into a game of beer pong and couldn’t resist.”

Jimin smiled. That did sound an awful lot like Jungkook. “So, these are the famous margaritas?”

“Yup, my very own recipe. Give it a try.”

Jimin took one and sniffed at it. It smelled very strongly of tequila.

“Don’t worry, it tastes better than it smells,” Namjoon said.

“But it is as strong as it smells,” Yoongi added.

“Hush, you’re going to scare him.”

But Jimin wasn’t afraid. He didn’t drink often, but when he did, he never held back. He was the kind of person that could down a glass of wine in seconds, could take shot after shot and still act relatively normal if a bit giggly.

And one of the biggest benefits? Whenever he was drunk, the shadows bothered him a lot less. One of the reasons he didn’t drink more often was because he was worried he’d depend on that too much, that he’d become a full-blown alcoholic. But here, among friends, Jimin felt safe.

So he drank the margarita. Sure enough, it tasted significantly better than it smelled. And it was quite strong, to boot. “Whew, hyung—Hoseokie really drank six of these that first time?”

“You bet he did. Now you can see why he can’t possibly remember that night,” Jin remarked cheerfully.

Jimin giggled. “It’s really good,” he said, sipping it once more. “What’s the secret?”

Jin held a finger up to his lips. “A magician never reveals his secrets,” he admonished.

“Oh, that’s not fair,” Jimin pouted. “You know you can’t resist my charm!”

“Give it up, Minie. He’ll never tell,” Namjoon said. “We’ve been trying to get him to reveal it for ages.”

“Oh, but Jiminie really is too cute. Just look at his little face!” Jin squeezed Jimin’s cheeks.

Jimin giggled. “I promise not to tell the others,” he said.

“Well, in that case…”

Jin leaned over and whispered in Jimin’s ear. The other allowed his eyes to widen. “Really? That’s it?”

Jin nodded.

“Hey! That’s no fair!” Hoseok chirped. “Why does he get to know?”

“Unbelievable,” Namjoon added, shaking his head.

“Did I just see what I think I saw?” Jungkook’s voice said. Taehyung trailed behind him, looking a little unsteady but somewhat happier than before, so Jimin counted it a win. He hoped Jungkook was able to cheer him up—Tae had gotten them together, so Jimin felt like the least he could do is also get Tae and Kook back on old terms again.

“Yeah, your boyfriend just somehow got Jin’s secret recipe out of him,” Yoongi said dryly.

“Well, he is really persuasive,” Jungkook said, and when he did he gave Jimin a long, meaningful glance that Jimin interpreted as being about how he’d persuaded him off the bridge. Jimin ducked his head and tried not to blush too much.

“Tae, I have your margaritas,” Jin said, motioning the younger boy over. Tae made his way over, uttering a soft thank you as he took the first. “You okay?” Jin asked, wrapping his arms around him and speaking in low tones, as if scared to frighten away a wild animal.

It was intimate and nearly all of the boys found something else to look at—Yoongi and Namjoon both took sips of their drinks, Jungkook pressed a kiss to Jimin’s shoulder, and Hoseok began shooing a few people back inside when they made a beeline for the pool.

But Jimin watched the exchange, wishing he could help Tae, wishing he could fix what happened. However, he could do none of those things so all he could do was bear witness to it and hope that no more shadows plagued his friend.

“I will be,” Taehyung said finally in response. He glanced at Jimin, then quickly away. “It’s going to hurt for a while, but I know it’ll get better.”

And that was all. Just like that, the spell was broken and everyone went back to having a good time. Taehyung finished his first margarita, then Hoseok began arguing with him about drinking the second, then Yoongi sneakily stole the third despite pretending he wasn’t interested in “fruity, girly drinks.”

Finally, Jungkook squeezed Jimin’s waist to get his attention. “Ready to go home?” he asked, and the way he said home didn’t sound like he meant taking Jimin to his house, but rather back to the Jeon residence. Jimin found he didn’t much mind, as long as Jungkook stayed with him.

So he nodded and they said their goodbyes, exchanging hugs and—in Hoseok’s case—sloppy smooches before leaving the party.

That night, Jungkook told Jimin that nobody would be home and they made love—slow and sweet—in Jungkook’s bedroom. It was everything Jimin had hoped for, every touch, caress, and movement filled with tenderness and electricity all at once.

Jimin would never forget it, and he hoped Jungkook wouldn’t, either.

The rest of the weekend was pretty busy. Jimin spent a lot of time with his new boyfriend, telling Jihyun all about it (within reason) which had the other boy cackling (silently) with delight. He got some one-on-one dance training done with Hoseok, and started working part time in Jin’s diner to make a little cash and spend time with his friends.

He also wasn’t plagued by any persistent shadows, either, which was a godsend. For once, it seemed like Jimin’s life might finally be going right for a change.

So, naturally, that was when things had to get worse.

At first, when he returned to school the following Monday, he didn’t notice anything different. Everyone was usually really tired at the beginning of school, so it was quiet. But when the quiet started to feel as if it were actively following him, Jimin felt a shiver of unease go down his spine.

That was when he started to notice that the other students were staring at him.

Not the way they’d stared at him on his first day of school, with his blonde hair and sunglasses—a mixture of curiosity and maybe a touch of confusion—but the kind of stare that makes you acutely aware that something is wrong with you; the kind of stare he’d grown accustomed to at his old school when he’d predicted the bus accident that had killed many of his classmates and his own father—that rendered his brother mute.

But they didn’t know. They [i]couldn’t[/i] know. He’d only told very few people and only Jungkook had actually believed him. There was no way…

“Hey, Cursed Boy,” came a gruff, familiar voice. Jimin turned in shock to see Donghyun standing there, looking smug. “I hear you’ve got pet demons. Gonna sick ‘em on me?”

“Wh-what?” Jimin asked, completely dumbfounded.

“What, ghost got your tongue? I asked if you were going to send your demons after me,” Donghyun said. “I hear that’s what you do when you’re upset. Do I make you upset?”

Donghyun was close now, too close. Jimin backed up into the locker, remembering the way he’d felt when Jungkook and Donghyun had cornered him before. He felt small, afraid, hurt. How did Donghyun know?

A terrible thought occurred to him—had Jungkook sold him out? Had this whole thing been a ploy and now that Jimin had given in to Jungkook’s flirtation, he was done playing the game?

He’d heard all sorts of rumors about Jungkook—that he was a player, that he was a bully—but had ultimately discounted them because they’d grown past it. Or so Jimin thought.

“Oh no! He’s gonna start crying, everyone hurry! Before the demon attacks!” Donghyun mimicked being afraid and then descended into fits of laughter. The other students in the corridor joined in.

Jimin couldn’t stand it anymore. He didn’t want to cry in front of these people—he needed to get out of here, school be damned.

He shoved past Donghyun, ignoring the way the other boy grabbed his shoulder and acted as if he’d been punched by a “demon” to the entertainment of his audience. Jimin, tears burning at the corners of his eyes despite his refusal to let them fall, had to continue pushing his way through the other students to get to the door, but he had single-minded purpose and nearly made it out before someone grabbed his arm.

“Jiminie, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” Jungkook asked, doe-eyes wide and innocent as if he had no idea what was going on.

“You know what’s wrong. I told you about my curse and the bullshit I endured at my old school, and then you go and tell that piece of shit Donghyun?”

“Wh-what?” Jungkook asked, eyes widening even further. “What the hell are you talking about? I haven’t told him shit!”

“Playing dumb, are we? That’s unlike you,” Jimin said. “Well, I hope I was a good lay at least. Have a good life!”

Jimin grabbed Jungkook’s wrist to pull it off of him. The movement surprised Jungkook and he hissed in pain, all but yanking his arm away. Jimin was pretty sure he hadn’t grabbed him that hard and although a part of him thought he was just acting a fool like Donghyun, he also remembered the bloody tissues he’d found in Jungkook’s room and the circumstances of their first meeting. The pieces fell into place: Jungkook was self-harming, despite everything. Turns out, Jimin hadn’t helped him as much as he thought anyways.

The thought filled him both with anger and sadness. “I guess we both haven’t learned our lessons,” he said, then pushed past Jungkook on his way out the door.

He didn’t look back.

Chapter Text

For the hundred-and-fifth time (and Jungkook had counted), he dialed Jimin’s number and was promptly ignored. Just like the hundred-and-four other times he’d done it.

Jungkook was at a loss. He didn’t understand how word about Jimin’s curse had spread, but it certainly hadn’t been him. If he could just talk to him…

But he was finding that once Jimin decided something, it was very hard to get him to reconsider. Jungkook had already done it once before—that was already one time more than he would give probably anybody else. But Jungkook had to keep trying.

The fact that Jimin knew of his self-harming was also troubling. It apparently rendered all progress Jungkook had made inert in the other’s mind, though he couldn’t quite understand how. It was better to hurt yourself than it was to kill yourself, wasn’t it?

[i]Or is it?[/i]

This thought was another troubling one. It seemed as if Jungkook’s thoughts had grown even more aggressive of late, to the point where it didn’t even sound like his own voice anymore. Yet somehow, it pushed against his subconscious whenever he least expected it or whenever his guard was down. In fact, the last time he’d gone more than a few hours without some kind of intrusive thought had been when he lay with Jimin after they’d made love.

But now, ever since Jimin had essentially ghosted him, the thoughts continued—louder, more persistent, and more violent than ever before. Jungkook hadn’t slept in days.

It had been a week since the talk at school had started. Jimin had been absent the first couple of days, maybe just trying to steel himself for the inevitable, but he’d returned on the third day, head held high. He didn’t bother with the glasses—Jungkook had never seen him so confident.

But confident or not, he was pissed. The anger radiated off of him, and every time Jungkook tried to talk to him, Jimin pointedly went the opposite way. So Jungkook had started calling, leaving voicemails and texts every time Jimin didn’t answer. Once, Jungkook was pretty sure Jimin had answered—he’d heard him breathing on the other end—but as soon as Jungkook started to talk, the line went dead. He hadn’t answered since.

Jungkook was pretty sure he was losing his mind at this point. Defeated, he flung himself down on the bed, listening to the continued whispering and snarling that had become his near-constant companion since his split with the one person that made him feel sane.

A knock came at the door.

For one wild, hope-filled moment, he thought it was Jimin finally coming to reconcile. But as it turned out, it was simply Junghyun.

He was dressed in his military suit, looking tall and distinguished and put-together—everything Jungkook was not and would never be. “You’re not even dressed?” Junghyun asked, adjusting the sleeve of his coat.

“Don’t want to go,” Jungkook huffed, rolling over onto his side and putting one of his pillows over his head, as if hoping it would quiet the voice in his head. It did not.

A moment later, he felt the bed dip as Junghyun sat down beside him. “Kook-ah, I know we don’t always get along…”

Jungkook scoffed.

“But you’re still my brother, and I still want you there with me tonight. After this, you won’t have to deal with me again for a good long while. Now could you please just get dressed? Just this once?”

Jungkook did not want to get dressed, not this once, not ever. But Junghyun was also right—this was the last time he’d see him for a long time. Tonight was his going away party. Tomorrow morning, he would leave home to fulfill his military duty and go on to a powerful, illustrious career once he finished that. He wouldn’t have time for Jungkook then. Not that he really did before.

But Junghyun’s gaze was imploring. He really did want Jungkook there, and as much as he and his brother fought he did still love him. So he huffed a sigh. “Fine.”
Removing the pillow from his head, he threw his feet over the side of his bed and made for the closet where his suit was hanging in a dry cleaning bag. His hand closed on the hanger and he pulled it out, staring dispassionately at the ill-fitting suit.

Not that it was ill-fitting in a physical sense. It had been tailor made to fit him just right—the Jeons couldn’t have him showing up in public in a suit that hung off him in drapes of fabric or from which his limbs jutted out with reckless, adolescent awkwardness. No, physically this suit was a masterpiece.

But symbolically, it was everything Jungkook hated. It was false, a confectionary flower when it should be a real rose, thorns and all. Just this once, he supposed, he could wear it and pretend it didn’t strangle him.

“Well, are you going to stand there and watch me dress or are you going to give me a little privacy?” Jungkook asked petulantly.

Junghyun smiled. “Thank you,” he said, then vanished through the door before Jungkook could say anything.

Sighing, Jungkook began to remove his clothing. [i]Just this once,[/i] he thought again.

[i]And then what?[/i] the other voice hissed back. Jungkook didn’t know how to answer.

As confident as Jimin tried to project himself to be, he was anything but. Once again, he couldn’t go anywhere, do anything, without being faced with people knowing about his curse and thinking that he would cause them to die, too, just like at his old school.

Jimin was tired.

He couldn’t help but remember Jungkook saying it would be better if everyone knew, that it would be a load off. Whether he had intended for it to backfire this splendidly or not, Jimin didn’t know and he didn’t really care. It was bad enough that he’d been betrayed. It didn’t matter to what end.

Of course, Jihyun was judging him for this. He stared accusingly at him from over his book, thinking Jimin wouldn’t notice. But of course, Jimin did notice.

“What is it?” he snapped.

As if he’d been waiting for Jimin to finally acknowledge him, Jihyun calmly set down his book and began to sign. [i]You’re being a dick,[/i] he signed.

Jimin’s mouth fell open. “I am not!” he shouted indignantly.

Jihyun gave him a long stare so Jimin folded his arms in front of his chest. “He’s the one that had sex with me and then blurted my secret all over the school. Why are you taking his side? You barely even know him.”

Jihyun rolled his eyes, then continued, [i]I’m not saying he’s in the right, but maybe you should investigate more.[/i]

Jimin closed his lips tightly. He didn’t know what to think, really. All he knew was that Jungkook knew his secret and Donghyun found out. What other conclusion could he come to?

Just then, there was a rapid knock on the door. Jimin thought it was going to be Jungkook—persistent little bastard—but when he flung it open to confront him, he saw Taehyung there. The next minute, he was enveloped in a tight hug.

“Shit, Jimin, I’m so sorry, I had no idea he would do that,” Taehyung all but shouted. “When I came back to school and everyone was saying those things…fuck, that asshole!”

“I know,” Jimin sighed, feeling relief flood in. Taehyung was his best friend still after all. He’d been needing him now more than ever, but hadn’t felt right asking since everything that had happened with his grandmother.

“I mean, yeah, I knew he was a dick, but this seemed low even for him. I should have known better,” Taehyung said. He looked like he was going to cry.

“I know,” Jimin said again. “It isn’t your fault, Tae. Kook should never have—”

“Wait,” Taehyung said, brows furrowing. “Kook?”

“Yeah. I mean, obviously, we both were fooled. Kookie was being so much nicer to you, hadn’t been spending time with Donghyun. I just wish I’d seen it coming, but he must have been sneaking off to meet his old pal without my realizing. He’s such a sneaky little…”

“Jimin,” Taehyung said, and he sounded so serious that Jimin stopped mid-tirade.

“What is it?”

“Kook didn’t do anything.”

Jimin blinked in confusion. “But you just said…”

“I was talking about Donghyun. Jiminie, Kookie didn’t tell anybody anything. It was me. I did it—I told Donghyun about your curse.”

Chapter Text

“But…why?” Jimin asked, struggling to figure out how to parse what Taehyung had just said. There was a sound from where he’d been sitting on the couch with his brother and Jimin glanced back in time to see Jihyun wave as he left, giving Jimin the living room.

Thankfully, his mom wasn’t around tonight. That would just be one more awful thing to deal with on top of a series of them that had landed quite uncomfortably in Jimin’s lap of late.

“Can we sit?” Taehyung asked worriedly, biting his lip.

Jimin wanted to be angry, but he’d spent so much energy being angry at Jungkook that he was struggling to find the necessary emotion. So instead of slamming the door in Taehyung’s face, he motioned him inside.

As they took their places on the sofa, Tae ran a hand through his hair. “This isn’t an excuse,” he began, “But an explanation. You see, I was upset and drinking. I have no tolerance at all—I’m not Hoseokie hyung—so it didn’t take much and when I drink, I blab things. Usually, it’s okay because I’m with our friends and whatever I blab, they’ll protect. But Donghyun was the one I ran into, and he invited me into a room. I thought we were just gonna make out…”

Jimin made a disgusted sound.

“Hey, he’s a dick, but he’s a hot one,” Taehyung defended himself.

“Continue,” Jimin said, shaking his head.

“He asked me about my grandmother, and I just kind of blurted out everything about that night? I’d been holding it in so long, all my feelings about what happened, that once it started I couldn’t stop. I blew my nose on his sleeve at least twice.”

This was a funny image, though the fact that Taehyung had been the one to betray him stung. It was even worse, too, because he’d taken it out on the wrong person. “And then, let me guess, Donghyun turned the tables and told the whole school?”

“Worse,” Taehyung said. “I think he broke into my mom’s office. We found some of her things out of place and your folder…well, your folder was missing.”

“My personal file?” Jimin asked, standing quicker than he probably should have. “That’s how he knew about the past! That fucker…”

“I’m really sorry, Jiminie. I know what I did was wrong but…”

“Goddammit, and Jungkook…I thought it was him this whole time. He’s the only other person who knows,” Jimin groaned. “How the fuck am I going to make this up to him?”

“Jungkook would never tell your secrets,” Taehyung pointed out. “He’s…really, really good at keeping them actually.”

“Even better at it than you think,” Jimin said sadly. “I just thought…well, we had sex. And you know how he was when we first met? I thought that since I’d given in, he had no reason to pretend to care about me anymore. It was terrible, but I can see now that it was my own insecurity more than anything he did that made me think that. I just…god.”

Jimin worriedly ran a hand through his hair and began pacing. “I need to call him. Right now.”

Taehyung stood and pressed his phone into his hand, halting Jimin’s pacing. “He needs you.”

Jimin nodded and dialed Jungkook’s number, praying that the damage wasn’t permanent. He would deal with his anger at Taehyung and Donghyun later. Right now, he just needed Jungkook to know he was sorry.

Jungkook was drunk.

Not that it provided him much relief from the press of feelings, the press of people—so many of them, all dressed up in their prettiest lies—and he was sure he was going insane now.

Junghyun’s party was being held at his boss’s house. It was an impressive place, filled with priceless things and priceless people. They all walked around in a complicated social dance, glittering like diamonds with their expensive jewelry and designer clothes, switching opinions like a light switch on the wall Jungkook wished he could disappear into.

Jungkook’s parents were there, too. His mother’s face was caked in make-up, smile vacant and meaningless as she chattered inanely with Junghyun’s boss’s wife; his father was caked in power. He wore his money like an armor, politeness as a weapon. How Jungkook hated him. How he hated all of them.

Junghyun for his part looked perfectly at ease surrounded by these imposters. Jungkook could not hate him, but he wanted to. He wanted to begrudge him his effortless laugh, his ability to casually extricate himself from conversations he did not want to have before moving onto more interesting topics. He wanted to hate him for leaving, too, but he couldn’t because for the past several months—and even before—all he’d been doing was pushing him away. Could he really be surprised that Junghyun was happy to leave? Oh, the military service was compulsory. But the party, that was all due to Junghyun’s readiness to go. Jungkook wished he could escape, too. But hadn’t he missed his chance? All because of a certain beautiful angel, swooping in to rescue him at just the right time. He supposed now that if he tried, Jimin wouldn’t stop him. Not this time. Maybe it was for the best…

But no, he just needed to rest. Some relief, some quiet…that’s all he wanted.

He wasn’t sure how he found his way to the bathroom. He’d never been to Junghyun’s boss’s place before, but once you had grown accustomed to certain luxury homes you could pretty much find your way through any of them. Even more surprising to him was how he reached into his pocket once he’d closed the door behind him and found the pain meds he’d gotten for his tailbone already there. He hadn’t remembered grabbing them, but finding them in his pocket now he couldn’t help but feel some pride in his foresight.

Now, he thought, I’ll get some relief.

He dribbled out a small handful of them and downed them with water from the faucet before deciding maybe he should take just a couple more.

As he propped himself against the bathtub and waited for the medicine to kick in, he felt his phone vibrate. A thrill of excitement went through him—maybe Jimin was finally going to return his call and let him explain that he hadn’t done anything wrong—but as he read the name on the caller ID, he saw that it was Taehyung.

Jungkook frowned. Why would Tae be calling him? He fumbled for a minute before hitting the answer button. “Tae?” he asked, voice sounding smaller and further away than he was expecting. How funny.

“Jungkook?”

But that wasn’t Tae’s voice. Jungkook sat up, brow furrowed in confusion. “Minie?”

“Oh, thank god. Kook, I made a huge mistake. I never should have blamed you. Where are you now? Can we talk in person?”

Jungkook giggled. “It’s funny you called me now. I was just thinking about you, how you stopped me from jumping off the bridge before. Remember that?”

“…are you drunk, Kookie?”

“Mm-hm. A little,” Jungkook said, shifting the phone and pulling his knees up to wrap his arms around them. He was feeling a little sleepy. “Junghyun is leaving now. I hate parties. Did you know? I wouldn’t mind another bridge right now…”

“Hey, what’s going on? Kook, don’t say things like that.”

“I wouldn’t jump. Not if you’re there. Would you catch me again, Jiminie? If you could go back and do it all again…would you still save me?” Jungkook’s vision swam a little and his head was hurting. He shook out a couple more pills, swallowing them dry. Hey, when had the bottle gotten empty? He frowned.

“I need you to listen to me very carefully, Jungkook, and I want you to believe every word. If I could go back and do it again, I wouldn’t just stop you—I’d jump in after you, because a world without Jeon Jungkook is not one I want to be in. I’m sorry I thought the worst of you when all you’ve done is try and make up for the mistakes you made. I am going to make it up to you this time, but I need to know something, something important,” Jimin said. He sounded like he was crying.

Jungkook frowned even more. He didn’t want Jimin to cry. “Why are you crying?” he asked, own voice small and vulnerable sounding. Maybe he was crying too.

“Because I’m very scared that you’ve done something really stupid and I won’t be able to get there in time. Now tell me, Kook—where are you right now?”

Jungkook looked around. “I’m in a bathroom,” he said. He felt like he was suffocating, but he couldn’t tell if it was just his feelings or if there was something wrong with him. “I don’t feel right…”

“This is really important, Kookie. Please keep talking to me. Can you tell me what’s going on? Where are you, besides in a bathroom. I want to come and see you.”

Jungkook’s heart thrilled in his chest a little. “Junghyunie’s boss’s house. I hate him, hyung. He’s so…” Jungkook blew out another breath, found it hard to draw in one after it, but continued on regardless. “Fake. I’m tired. I don’t…something’s wrong. I can’t breathe.”

“Hey, no, you’re okay. Keep talking to me. What makes him so fake? Tae and I are on our way now. We’ll be there soon, but you have to keep talking, okay? Can you do that?”

Jungkook clenched his eyes shut, hoping that when he opened them, his vision would clear again. At some point, it had begun darkening around the edges and he couldn’t tell if it was his eyes or something else, but it occurred to him that it was really dark all of a sudden. His breath scraped in his throat. “Minie,” he gasped. “I’m scared. I didn’t…this wasn’t supposed to happen. I j-just wanted some relief. What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing, baby. Nothing’s wrong. You’re just tired, but it’ll be okay. Hyung will take care of you.” It sounded like he was trying to convince himself, too, but Jungkook couldn’t point it out. He couldn’t do much of anything. “What did you take, Kook-ah?”

“Just some medicine, hyung. Everything was so loud,” Jungkook said. Maybe if he just laid down…he pressed his cheek to the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, waiting for the sensation to spark something in him, to jolt him awake, but instead it just reminded him of that night on the bridge.

The cold January air was back, stinging in its intensity. He hadn’t worn a coat. He wouldn’t need one where he was going. He felt the bite of the metal fence, the scrapes on his face and hands from crawling through the opening of the fence to get to the other side. And then he hung on the precipice, the space between here and there, and knew all he had to do was let go.

But this time instead of an angel coming to save him, there was only shadow.

It wrapped its arms around him, whispering that the water would be so, so warm. Warm…

He remembered Jimin’s beautiful face, the halo of his hair, his galaxy-eyes…”Hyung,” he whispered, not sure if he was speaking out loud or only in his head. “I love you. I’m sorry…”

And Jungkook let go, the phone slipping from his limp fingers and landing on the tiles next to him.

Chapter Text

“Hyung, I love you. I’m sorry.” Jungkook’s voice sounded so small, so final.

Jimin sobbed. “I love you, too, but you can’t leave me. Not like this. Answer me!”

But it seemed clear that Jungkook was beyond answering now and Jimin wanted to scream. This was not how the night was supposed to go. How could Jungkook be so stupid? How could Jimin have been so stupid?

Taehyung was ignoring as many speed laws as he possibly could without completely endangering his or Jimin’s lives, doing his best to deliver them safely to where Jungkook had said he was, but time itself was the enemy and they couldn’t borrow any more of it.

“Do you have Junghyun’s number on this thing?” Jimin asked after trying to call Jungkook’s phone again unsuccessfully. His fingers trembled, the shadows on either side of the car seeming impossibly dark and all-immersive. You can’t have him, he thought angrily to the Shadow Person Taehyung’s grandmother had warned him about, the one that wanted Jimin to suffer. I won’t allow it.

“Should be just above Kookie’s,” Taehyung said, turning sharply onto a road that Jimin sincerely hoped was the last one they needed to turn on in order to get to Jungkook’s side. His own voice was tight with worry, eyes wide and fearful. He’d just lost his grandmother, and now he just found out that his erstwhile best friend had suicidal tendencies and may have finally acted on them, so Jimin knew he wasn’t exactly having the best day either. For now, he could put aside any anger he might feel at the betrayal. None of that mattered more than Jungkook’s life. Jimin selected Junghyun’s number and listened to it ring, hoping that Junghyun would answer, but no such luck. Either he had turned off his phone or he had no interest in talking to a high schooler. Whatever the case, they wouldn’t be receiving help from that quarter—at least not over the phone.

“Goddammit!” he hissed, nearly chucking the phone out the window.

Finally, they pulled into the driveway of a beautifully lit mansion, not unlike the other impressive homes he’d seen in and around Jungkook’s neighborhood, but he barely even saw it as he threw open the car door and ran up the stairs to the door, Taehyung hot on his heels.

“Sir, you can’t come in, this is a closed event—” said a man at the door.

Jimin shoved him aside and ran into the house, ignoring the way he shouted after him and threatened to call the police. Taehyung began talking to him, explaining the situation as quickly as he could, but Jimin only had one mission: find Jungkook.

Immediately, he saw why Jungkook would want an escape. This party was full of the kind of people Jimin knew he despised. If anything could trigger a return to that dark place Jimin had just barely managed to save Jungkook from, a party like this would be it.

He pushed his way through the crowd indiscriminately, eyes seeking Junghyun desperately because he knew there was no way he’d find the right bathroom by himself. Finally, he saw him, chatting with an older couple. Jimin nearly knocked him down.

“Jimin-ssi, what’s the meaning of this? Why are you here?” he asked, unable to hide his surprise behind the carefully cultivated façade of professionalism he’d been wearing since the moment Jimin had met him.

“Jungkook,” Jimin gasped. “We need to help him.”

“What do you mean? My brother is…” Junghyun looked around as if noticing his brother missing for the first time. “Not here…?”

“He’s in the bathroom,” Jimin said, losing patience fast. The couple had fucked off somewhere, either offended by Jimin’s intrusion or wanting to avoid getting sucked into drama they had no interest in. “He might have overdosed on something. I need you to take me to him. Now!”

To Junghyun’s credit, he didn’t hesitate. He put his champagne on a tray and hurried through the crowd, making a beeline for the stairs and taking them two or three at a time. Jimin’s much shorter legs struggled to keep up, but keep up he did. There was nothing that would slow him down when Jungkook’s life was in danger.

But as soon as they came to the door, Jimin realized he’d never needed Junghyun to guide him here. He would have noticed the dark, looming shadow in front of the door ages ago if he had only allowed himself to look. Now, though, he couldn’t ignore it. He’d never seen one so dark before, not outside of his sleep. This was the shadow that swallowed his father every night in his dreams, that he felt lurking just outside his consciousness every night when he cried into a pillow after his mother told him once again how he’d taken everything from her, how he’d ruined her life and the life of her family. This was the shadow Taehyung’s grandmother had warned him about and now it was here. And Jungkook? He was on the other side of that door.

Junghyun was pounding on the wood, rattling the door handle in an attempt to get the door open. He shouted Jungkook’s name once, twice. And then, losing patience, he used his shoulder to ram into the door and it splintered open.

There, lying on the floor, was Jungkook. He was curled into himself, so pale that even his usually bright lips—lips which Jimin had grown addicted to kissing, could never get tired of kissing—seemed blanched and colorless in the dim light of the bathroom. Jimin’s hands moved to cover his mouth as a gasp escaped him. Jungkook looked as if he were already dead.

Junghyun cursed and rushed forward, reaching for his brother. As he pressed his fingers to the younger boy’s pulse point, Jimin noticed that his hands were shaking so hard that he worried he’d shake apart. Taehyung pounded up the steps behind him, saw Jungkook, and ran to the door. Jimin just barely managed to stop him before he got inside, where he would no doubt only be in the way. A small crowd had gathered at the foot of the steps. Jimin could hear their whispers and the rattling of their jewelry as they talked about what had happened.

He held Taehyung, and Taehyung held him back, and they stared as Junghyun sought frantically for a pulse.

Please, Jimin thought, tears streaming unchecked down his cheek. He can’t be dead. He just can’t.

“I…I can’t feel anything,” Junghyun said, voice edging on panicked.

“No!” Jimin and Taehyung said at once.

Jimin’s eyes shot to the shadow, tears streaming unchecked down his face. It loomed above the scene, stretching horrifically, finger-like tendrils reaching towards Jungkook. If those tendrils touched Jungkook, that would be it. Nobody could be saved once those shadows touched them.

Jimin had never, ever talked to the shadows before. Not directly. Had tried not to even look at them before. But this time, he had to try. Without Jungkook, what would even be the point?

It’s me you hate, he thought desperately, hoping it could hear him. Spare him. Come for me directly, you coward.

The shadow cocked what Jimin supposed was its head curiously, as if considering the offer. Jimin held his ground.

I am not afraid of you. Show me what you can do to me, he thought, and that was it. The shadow straightened, expanding itself like a funeral pall before flying straight through him.

There was a sensation of icy cold and Jimin felt his knees buckle. Taehyung just barely caught him as he sank towards the ground, thinking it was grief that rendered him suddenly limp.

“Wait!” Junghyun said. “It’s there! I feel a pulse, thready but there. He’s still alive!”

Jimin sobbed with relief, Taehyung thanked god, and then Junghyun, fully in charge of himself once more, ordered someone to call 911. Jimin was aware of being set on the ground, heard Taehyung’s voice speaking quietly into a phone. Junghyun handed him a bottle of pain medication with Jungkook’s name on it so that the paramedics would know precisely what Jungkook had swallowed.

The next time Jimin became aware of himself, he was sitting in the waiting room of the hospital. He couldn’t remember how he’d gotten there, or how long he’d been there. Taehyung clung to him like a koala, head resting on his shoulder and mouth thrown open in the careless abandon of sleep.

“Did you hear me, Jimin-ssi?” Junghyun asked from his position standing in front of him. Jimin didn’t know how he hadn’t noticed him there before.

“What?” he asked.

“I said Jungkook is gong to be okay. He’s just sleeping now,” Junghyun said. He looked tired, bags under his eyes and once-immaculate uniform rumpled. Jungkook’s parents were there, too, Jimin realized, speaking to the doctor in hushed voices. Even here under these circumstances, they managed to look more put-out than anything else. Jimin didn’t make a habit of hating people—he could forgive almost anyone—but in that moment, he understood why Jungkook felt so much hatred for them.

Junghyun took a seat next to him, hanging his head in his hands. Then, quite abruptly, he looked imploringly at Jimin. “Did he say anything to you? About why he would do something like this?”

Jimin sighed. “Not in so many words, but I can guess. It’s not the first time either,” he said.

“What?” Junghyun said, loud enough that Taehyung shifted and both the Jeons looked disapprovingly at them from across the room. Junghyun lowered his voice and continued. “What do you mean it’s not the first time?”

“Just what I said. When I first met Jungkook, he was seconds from walking off a bridge,” he said. It felt wrong divulging Jungkook’s secret like this, but it wasn’t like he could hide it now. The doctors had no doubt seen the cuts on Jungkook’s body. It wouldn’t take much to put two and two together and get to four: Jungkook was suicidal, and none of them had done enough to help him. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what the doctors were talking about with Jungkook’s parents right now.

“Off a bridge?” Junghyun gasped. “But he was fine. Better than he had be in months. I mean, I knew he was feeling pretty down today—figured you two were fighting—but I didn’t…how could I have…”

The elder Jeon ran worried hands through his hair. “I have got to be the worst big brother in the world.”

Jimin shook his head. “There isn’t anything you could have done differently. And anyway, it wasn’t your fault. Not really.”

“Then whose was it?”

Mine, Jimin thought, and the thought felt simultaneously as if it belonged to him and something else. He felt cold to his very core.

But before he could say anything, the Jeons arrived. “Come on, Junghyun-ah. We need to get home. It’s late and you have to leave early in the morning,” Mrs. Jeon said.

“There’s no way I can leave now. Not with Jungkook in the hospital,” Junghyun protested.

“Your brother needs help, but it’s nothing you can provide. As soon as he’s well enough, we’ve arranged for him to stay at a place which specializes in cases like his,” Mr. Jeon said brusquely. “Ugly business, this. We’ll not hear the end of it for months. At a party for his brother, no less!”

“Your son, my brother, just tried to kill himself and you’re worried about my stupid party and what people will think? What is wrong with you?”

“Don’t talk to your father that way. You know he didn’t mean it like that,” Mrs. Jeon huffed.

“How did he mean it, then? How can either one of you stand there and talk like this after what just happened?” Junghyun said, voice rising again.

If Jimin was capable of feeling anything other than cold at the moment, he would have been proud of Junghyun for standing up to his parents. He wished Jungkook could be here to witness it.

“We’ll discuss this at home, Junghyun. Let’s go.” Mr. Jeon’s lips were a thin, white line. Disapproval sat heavily on his broad shoulders, simmering beneath the surface. But he didn’t lose his temper. He never would in public.

“No,” Junghyun said. “You can leave without me. I’m staying here, and when Jungkook wakes up, I’ll be there to let him know that he’s not alone. He deserves to know that he has at least one damn family member that still cares what happens to him.”

“Of course I care what happens to my son! I gave birth to him, don’t you think this is hard enough on all of us?” Mrs. Jeon shrieked. She, at least, was still capable of feeling something. It was almost a relief to see her lose her cool. Even Junghyun looked impressed. “All I’m trying to do is keep the rest of my family from falling apart.”

“It fell apart a long time ago,” Junghyun said. “You were just too busy to notice. Now, if you’ll excuse me…Jimin, would you like to join me? I think Kookie’s been alone long enough.”

Jimin nodded, murmuring a soft explanation in Taehyung’s ear to start waking him up before extricating himself from his grip to stand beside Junghyun. The taller boy stretched and stood, promising to come back later before glancing uncertainly at the Jeons and Jimin. “Do you need a ride later, Jiminie?” he asked.

Jimin shook his head. “I’ll call my brother when I’m ready to go. You should go home and get some sleep.”

Taehyung bit his lip and nodded before leaving the waiting room. The Jeons stared Jimin and Junghyun down a moment longer, but then Junghyun turned Jimin away and started leading him to Jungkook’s hospital room. Jimin didn’t see how long the Jeons stayed after that.

Instead, he braced himself for what he’d see when he got to Jungkook’s side. Please, he thought again, Let him really be all right. I don’t want to live without him.

Somewhere deep inside him, a voice responded back: You won’t have to.

Chapter Text

The waiting was the hardest.

Jimin knew Jungkook was going to be okay, because he’d been told by all the doctors and Junghyun that he would be. And really, now that he was looking at him, he did look a little less pale than he had before. He was actually a whole two shades darker than the sheets on the hospital bed he was currently laying in.

But as he waited for the moment his boyfriend—could he even still call him that after the week they’d had?—opened his eyes, he agonized over what he would say when it finally happened. He was torn between wanting to yell at Jungkook and sob into his shoulder how sorry he was that they’d ever fought.

It wasn’t the best feeling. Guilt was bad enough, but add anger and grief to the mix and it was on an entirely different level.

I almost lost him, he thought. Again. When would he ever be able to stop worrying about that? He should have known better, he kept insisting to himself, than to fall for someone that he met in the midst of ending their life. He had thought he’d changed his fate, and maybe he had, but if Jungkook really wanted to die…how could Jimin keep stopping him?

“-min?”

The tentative voice didn’t quite register at first, but once it did, Jimin blinked and beheld Jungkook’s wide doe-eyes staring back at him.

“Kookie,” he said, his relief whooshing out of him so fast he didn’t have time to try and school it back into anger. He was holding Jungkook in his arms a moment later, tighter than he had held anyone in his life, but it was fine because Jungkook was clinging just as much.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook said, voice clogged with tears. “I really didn’t mean to this time. Please believe me, hyung. I didn’t want—”

“I know, baby, I know,” Jimin shushed him.

Jungkook shook his head and sat back. “You don’t know. It was awful…I felt as if I had no control of my body. That’s not…I don’t want to go that way. I didn’t want to leave you. I still don’t. It was…there was this voice…”

Jimin frowned. “Voice?”

Jungkook nodded and wiped his cheek. When his hand had passed over his face, there was no evidence that he had cried at all. He looked resolved and strong, like he was ready to fight this time. “Yes. At the worst of my depression before, I heard a voice, too but it was always mine, Jiminie. Even when it was vicious and hateful, it was still mine. This voice…it wasn’t mine. It felt like an intruder. And it was nearly constant. I thought I was going insane.”

Jimin could imagine why one would think that. In fact, he was having a hard time disagreeing that it was the case in the first place.

“Please don’t look at me like that, hyung. I know how it sounds, but remember how you told me you were cursed and I believed you? I’m asking you to believe me now.”

Jimin arched an eyebrow. “As I recall, you laughed at and called me crazy first.”

Jungkook had the decency to look embarrassed, rubbing the back of his head. “Okay, well, go ahead and laugh at me and call me crazy. But after that…you’ll have to trust me.”

Jimin pursed his lips. “I wasn’t very good at trusting you even before all this, Kook.”

“Well, I wasn’t exactly trustworthy. But I would never, ever do something to intentionally hurt you again, hyung. You have to at least believe that.”

Jimin wanted to. Oh, how he wanted to. But he couldn’t help but look down at Kook’s wrists, bare now that he was in nothing but a nightgown, and he could see the scars—old and new—marring the beautiful skin there. Jungkook followed his gaze and his face clouded a little.

“This didn’t have anything to do with hurting you. That…that was all me.”

Jimin frowned more deeply. “Don’t you get it yet, Kook? Hurting yourself is the fastest way to hurt me. All I ever wanted was for you to be okay. I know I can’t just…just make everything suddenly better. I tried to ignore the signs, because I wanted to think that at least you were trying. And now this…”

“I’m telling you, hyung. The cutting, yeah, I did do that and I’m sorry and I was going to get help with it. I even told Yoongi hyung about it. But the…the…” Jungkook pursed his lips as if he couldn’t bring himself to say the word.

“Overdose?” Jimin helpfully supplied for him.

“Yes. That…that wasn’t me. You know me. You know that’s not how I wanted it to go down. Something else was getting to me. You did make me better, hyung. Everything about being with you made life seem so much more real and bright and better. I wouldn’t have done that now of all times and especially not at that place.”

Jimin still wasn’t sure he believed it. How could he? All the signs pointed to suicidal depressive and nothing else. If Jungkook really was hearing strange voices, maybe they could add schizophrenic to the list. But then, it could also be something else…in which case, it was very likely that Jimin brought this pain to Jungkook’s life when he’d saved it that day on the bridge.

“Think, Jimin,” Jungkook said again, voice hard and gaze unflinching. There was no honorific, no nickname. Just Jimin’s first name, and he tried not to flinch at how serious Jungkook sounded when he said it like that. “When I tried to kill myself, I picked the most real place I could. Ugly, utilitarian. I picked the timing that was perfect—new year’s eve for a new life or afterlife, whatever. I didn’t do it somewhere anyone was likely to see me. I made it so that it would be nearly impossible to find me, in fact. Now, does that sound like someone who would overdose at a party full of prettily painted people, my brother literally just downstairs after he all but begged me to come to his party?”

It didn’t. Even Jimin had to admit that.

“I didn’t want to die last night, hyung. Believe that, if nothing else.”

“There’s just one thing,” Jimin said, folding his arms. “We were fighting. That could set anyone off his plan, force him to do something out of character.”

“I wouldn’t have done that to you. Never. You would have blamed yourself forever and I may not be the most perfect person, and I may have more broken pieces than most…but I would never, ever want to hurt you that way.”

Jimin released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding as Jungkook said the words. Because he did believe Jungkook. Impossibly, against all odds, he absolutely did believe that Jungkook had not intentionally tried to kill himself the night before. Which meant that what he was going to say would hurt all the more, for both of them.

“Then we need to break up,” Jimin said. Jungkook looked as if he’d been punched.

“You don’t believe me?” he asked, eyes glassy with shocked, unshed tears.

“No, I believe you. But that’s why I have to end this,” Jimin said, figuring honesty was the best policy. He owed Jungkook that much at least. “If what you say is true, and something else was pushing you to do what you did last night, then I can only assume that whatever that something else is was because of me. Because of my curse. And to protect you, I need to get it away from you.”

“That’s such bullshit,” Jungkook roared and Jimin did flinch this time because he couldn’t even remember the last time Jungkook had raised his voice at him or made him afraid, but in that moment he did. But Jimin wouldn’t cry; he had earned this. “You know what I think, hyung? I think you’re just a coward. I think you don’t really trust me and you’re using this curse or whatever as an excuse to end things because you can’t pin me for ratting you out to the school anymore.”

“I’m not,” Jimin said. “But I’m also not going to argue this with you. You’re right—if you would have died last night, I never would have forgiven myself. But if I don’t walk out right now, I won’t be able to forgive myself either.”

“You’re forgetting one thing, hyung, and I think you’ll realize it soon enough,” Jungkook said.

“What’s that?” Jimin said. He was just so tired.

“The only reason I didn’t want to die last night was because of you. Once you’re gone, how long do you think I’ll be able to fight this…whatever this is?”

Jimin closed his eyes. “You won’t have to. At least, not alone.”

Jungkook blinked in surprise and uncertainty once again shone in his doe-eyes. “What do you mean?”

Just then, the door opened and Junghyun stepped in, followed by a pair of doctors that Jimin didn’t recognize from the times they’d come to check on Kook throughout the night. “Oh, good, you’re awake,” Junghyun said, smiling tentatively. There was an edge of anger and weariness around his mouth and eyes, obviously having a lot he wanted to say to his brother but unable or unwilling to voice it in their present company. “The representatives for the mental health clinic are here. They’re going to tell you all about their facility and what you can expect when you transfer over there.”

“What? When?” Jungkook asked, too shocked to be able to sound angry anymore.

“Tonight.”

Jimin closed his eyes and slipped out the door without another word. He didn’t let the tears fall until he was in his brother’s car and Jihyun held him for several minutes in the parking lot before they finally pulled away, leaving the hospital and everything Jimin had earned since moving here behind.

His only comfort was that wherever Jungkook went, Jimin was taking the shadow and its curse in the opposite direction.

Chapter Text

Everything was the same here.

Jungkook couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing. It was boring as hell—some days, he just wanted to rip his hair out so he’d have something more interesting to focus on than the same bare walls and the sound of the monotonous air droning on above him—but at least it didn’t pretend to be anything else.

The mental health clinic was effectively efficient in every way, designed to lower the sensory input so that you could recover from the day to day craziness or whatever triggers you might have. He was on a number of medications, each carefully counted out in the morning and at night. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had an emotion and he couldn’t say if that was a good or bad thing either.

Junghyun visited when he could. He’d gone to his military service a couple weeks later than anticipated—good thing he was such a charmer—but was given leave every now and then for these visits, since his posting was local.

His friends visited, too. Taehyung more often than the others, but they would always come. Sometimes individually, sometimes as a group. They told him stories about what was going on outside, all the plans they had for when he got back. Some were better at not making him feel awkward. Yoongi and Namjoon were the easiest because they’d been where he was, emotionally if not physically. Hoseok was pretty upbeat most of the time, as if he were oblivious to the whole thing, but every now and then he would give Jungkook an understanding look that he couldn’t help but find a little too piercing. Jin tried the hardest, but he always ended up laughing just a little too loud or long.

Taehyung was the most awkward. Probably because he’d seen him at death’s door and kept blaming himself for having let things slip to Donghyun and Jungkook taking the blame for it, and then seeing him close to death. But that was part of the reason he visited so often; he wanted to get better, to be better, and Jungkook appreciated the effort.

Of course, none of that made it okay that Jimin hadn’t been to see him even once.

The others would tell him different reports of what he was up to; Hoseok reported an inordinate amount of moping and crying and regret. Jin said Jimin was a ray of sunshine, doing his best to keep positive. Taehyung said both, and neither, were true at once. He said Jimin tried to pretend he was happy, but he’d been a mess ever since Jungkook had been sent away.

That was almost three weeks ago, now. Jungkook wished he could be done already.

“Twenty-one days to break a habit,” his doctor had pointed out. It was faulty science—Jungkook had read up on it—but it seemed true enough that he no longer felt like cutting nearly as much.

He was almost there now. Just a few more days left. But truth be told, he wasn’t even sure what he’d do once he got back. He had his friends to check up on him and make sure he didn’t do anything stupid—he would have to check in with all of them every day or else they’d send a whole fucking brigade, which would be cute if it wasn’t so annoying—but other than that, what was there waiting for him on the outside?

No doubt his parents would treat him awkwardly. Without Junghyun there to act as a bridge but also dealing with their embarrassment over his “ordeal” as they called it? Their relationship was going to be rockier than it had been before. He wished he could just move out already, but he was still a minor. Just two more years, he told himself. Then he could be out of there.

Of course, there was also school. Taehyung had told him everyone had stopped talking about Jimin and said instead that they were constantly gossiping about what drove him to suicide. Jungkook didn’t quite believe him, though. Most likely, the school was talking about Jimin causing him to nearly commit suicide with his “curse.” It infuriated him that he was adding to Jimin’s misery.

But to be fair, Jimin was adding to Jungkook’s misery too by refusing to have any contact with Jungkook whatsoever.

He’d called him every night that first week and was ignored, predictably.

In the second week, Jungkook had decided he didn’t need Jimin. If he didn’t love him, what was the point in throwing himself at him at every opportunity? It was just like Taehyung all over again: Jungkook falling too hard for people that would never love him back, story of his goddamn life.

Except, and this is what he realized in the beginning of the current week, Jimin did love him. And his stepping away was all in an effort to protect the one he loved, however misguided. Jungkook couldn’t blackmail him into a relationship. The only way he could get things right was to get himself better and prove to Jimin that he wasn’t afraid and that he wouldn’t have to save him again. He was done with all that.

Jungkook recognized that the relationship wasn’t the healthiest. It had started out on rather iffy terms—and boy had his friends been upset when he explained how he’d first tried to kill himself on new year’s eve while they were all partying and how he’d only survived because somehow, against all odds, Jimin had showed up at just the right time to talk him down—and had ended on just as rocky terrain. But once Jungkook got back, he’d work once more on winning him over. The right way this time, even if it took a long time to prove he was better.

And to help make sure he was, in fact, better, he would start attending regular meetings to discuss any urges he had throughout the week to self-harm. Namjoon and Yoongi would be there, too, sharing their experiences as well. For once, Jungkook wouldn’t be able to hide and that would eventually set him free, if the words of his hyungs was anything to go by.

He was ready.

Jimin, be strong. I’m coming.

Jimin was trying to be strong.

Every day was a struggle, especially at night when the shadows were most powerful. He could hear the voices of them now, especially the one that followed him most closely. Jimin finally understood what Jungkook had meant by the voice sounding like something else.

It was truly terrifying.

Sleep was always a trial, too, but what else was new. It had gotten so bad that most nights, Jihyun had to come and comfort him. There was the usual sleepwalking too, but he’d been with his brother and so he hadn’t got far before getting led back to bed for a restless sleep.

At least Jungkook’s friends didn’t hold the fact that they had broken up against him. They understood his need for space, though he could tell they were all hoping they’d get back together. It was all Jimin wanted, too, but he just didn’t want to put Jungkook’s recovery in jeopardy by being around him too much.

Even so, they welcomed him at dance class and invited him out to movies and rap battles and anything else that came up, and he accepted their invitations because if he didn’t, he was sure he’d go mad himself. It was easier to ignore the shadow voices when his friends were all around him, keeping him grounded. He wondered if that was what Jungkook had needed too and felt immediately sad that nobody realized it in time. Jungkook had been way too good at hiding himself away.

But he’s going to be okay, Jimin told himself.

He did his best to ignore the voice in the back of his head that reminded him that he wouldn’t be and went to meet his friends for lunch.

That night, Jungkook had a dream.

In the dream, his parents had come to pick him up. The drive had been long, of course, but it hadn’t felt that long because he was so excited to see his friends. Not even his parents’ voices, disapproving and cold, could make the excitement any less in him.

The weird thing was that it had become dark way too quickly. One minute, they were driving through Seoul, sky blue and clear—so much brighter than the bland ceiling in his clinic room, god he’d missed the sky—and the next, there was a roil of thunder and the sky turned black. Rain pounded from clouds in a torrential downpour and he saw the bridge, the very same one he’d chosen for his original suicide, rise up from the shadow of impossibly thick fog.

Dread settled in him as the car approached the bridge, and the next minute he was no longer in the vehicle but standing, shivering, on one end of the bridge.

Here to there.

He took a step.

The landscape shifted and changed around him, and now he was in a space so impossibly black that he couldn’t tell which way was up. Was there even an up? He was suffocating, drowning, and all he could think of was Jimin, Jimin, Jimin…

He awoke in a cold sweat, thin blanket clinging to him. It had been a long time since he’d felt that familiar pull, the desire to slice into his skin so he could feel something other than the overwhelming fear or emptiness, something more than the deep, uncompromising darkness he’d felt just moments before.

He recognized the desire for what it was—an empty escape—and was able to push it down. But still, his need to at least hear Jimin’s voice was choking him.

With stumbling feet, he got out of his bed and began pounding on his door, knowing it would be locked as it was every night at light’s out.

A moment later, an orderly opened the door. “What’s the matter, boy? Are you okay?”

Jungkook shook his head. “No, I had a nightmare. I need to talk to someone.”

“The doctor’s not in, you know that. Maybe you should just lie back down and try to go to sleep again?”

“I can’t. Please, just let me call my friend.”

“You’re leaving in two days, Jeon. Can’t it wait?”

“It really, really can’t.”

The orderly sighed and stepped aside, leading Jungkook to the phone room. “You know I could get in a lot of trouble for this, right? Rules are rules for a reason.”

“Nobody will know, hyung-nim,” Jungkook said, doing his best to smile. “I just…need to hear his voice.”

“Aish, the things you could get away with using that smile of yours…At least make it quick.”

Jungkook nodded his thanks as he grabbed the phone off its cradle. This time, instead of calling Jimin’s cell number, which he was sure Jimin would absolutely not answer, he called his home number. A woman that could only be Jimin’s mother answered, and Jungkook cleared his throat. “Sorry to call so late, I was wondering if I could talk to Jimin hyung? It’ll only take a minute.”

“What’s this about?”

Jungkook thought quickly. “It’s a project. It’s due soon and I just…really need an update on his progress.”

Jimin’s mother sighed as if she were being put out unduly and told him to wait a minute. Thirty seconds later, Jimin answered. “Hello? I’m sorry, I don’t remember a project I was supposed to be working on, but I’ve not exactly been on top of things. Could you remind me what this is about?”

“Jimin,” Jungkook said, so relieved that he nearly exploded.

“Kookie,” Jimin said, sounding too shocked to be angry. “What are you calling my house for? And lying to my mother? What the hell are you thinking?”

“I’m sorry. I just…had a nightmare. I needed to know you were okay.”

Jimin sighed and it sounded so much like his mother that he was struck by the similarity before Jimin continued, “I’m fine. Please don’t call here again. It’s…this is hard enough already. Don’t make it worse on me.”

Jungkook bit his lip. “I understand,” he said. “Thank you for not hanging up immediately.”

“Goodbye, Kook-ah.”

The line went dead. Jungkook closed his eyes, waited for his heart to stop beating so hard, and then stood. He could do this. Just two more days…

A storm was coming. Jimin could feel it, the wind from his open kitchen window whipping his hair off his face. He’d been trying, unsuccessfully, to forget the sound of Jungkook’s beautiful voice. It had been so long since he’d heard it…

God, he missed him.

He couldn’t quite get over how quiet the world had become, if only for that brief moment when Jungkook was talking to him, but the quiet came with something darker, some fear that it was only quiet because Jimin was transferring his darkness over to the person he loved again.

Of course, the part of Jimin’s mind that was still fully Jimin tried to remind him that Jungkook had been full of darkness before—that he had found him at his worst and brought him back from the brink, and didn’t that count for something?—but that part was getting quieter every day.

The doubt was in every corner of his mind, the fear a constant companion. It was maddening.

“Jimin!” his mother’s shrill voice cut into his thoughts. He turned quickly to find her glaring at him in a way that he hadn’t seen in a little while. She was angry about something.

“Yes, mother?” he asked.

“How long does it take to wash some damn dishes? You’ve been standing there like an absolute moron for the past fifteen minutes getting absolutely nothing done,” she lectured.

“I’m sorry,” he said, quickly, returning to the task of washing dishes he’d unwittingly become slack in during his reminiscence.

“Just move. I will finish the dishes. You don’t do it right anyways,” she continued, coming around and none-too-gently taking his place at the sink. Jimin, not expecting it, tripped and slammed his hip into the door of the oven.

He tried not to make a sound, but couldn’t help the “ow” that came out. His mother looked up and glared. “Oh, please! I barely touched you—is this really how the man of the house is supposed to act?”

Jimin was tired of this shit. Every day since his father’s death, Jimin had put up with walking on eggshells around his mother, taking her insults along with her sudden bouts of false and empty regret, the kind that never admitted to any real wrongdoing and instead asked for pity which he had willingly given.

Now, though, he was exhausted. He couldn’t take this on top of everything else in his life. “Can’t you stop telling me to be the man of the house and instead remember I’m your fucking son? When was the last time you even asked me how my day went or checked if I was feeling okay?”

“How dare you speak to your mother that way? If your father were here…”

“If my father were here, he would see how much you’re hurting me. I have done everything I can to help this family. I’ve worked my ass off trying to please you. Don’t you think I know how much of a disappointment I am? Do you think I don’t spend every night wishing I’d been on that bus and Jihyunie and dad had been at home having dinner with you?” Jimin said, voice edging dangerously close to tears. “You’re supposed to be my mother. You’re supposed to look after me and tell me things are going to be okay. Instead, all you do is make me feel terrible for being alive!”

For once, his mother didn’t have a reply to that. Clearly, she hadn’t expected his sudden outburst. Jimin hadn’t either. The tears were streaming unchecked down his cheeks and when she said nothing, he shook his head. “Even now, you can’t properly admit to any wrongdoing, can you? Don’t worry about it. Goodnight, mother.”

Jimin turned to leave the kitchen, wiping furiously at his face. He nearly ran into Jihyun, who held his gaze and then reached out to grip his arm. It was an approving sort of grip, accompanied by a proud—if admittedly sad—smile.

“I’m okay, Jihyunie,” Jimin said, giving him a watery smile in return. “Just need a little time to myself, okay?”

Jihyun looked uncomfortable leaving Jimin to himself, but eventually nodded. Jimin gave him one last nod, sent his mother another disapproving shake of his head, and then disappeared into his room.

Almost immediately, he threw himself onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. He couldn’t believe that he’d said those things to his mother. Already, the regret was eating a hole in his chest, mind screaming at him to go back and apologize.

But he wouldn’t. Not this time.

Instead, he rolled over and gave himself over to sleep.

Jihyun could not speak, but he could observe better than anyone knew.

He saw things so clear sometimes that it was maddening mostly because he couldn’t really convey what he meant to anyone besides Jimin…except Jimin was the one he was observing, and he could see him falling apart faster than he ever thought possible for someone so strong.

His big brother had always been his hero. He may not have always said as much, but it was true. He saw all the things their mother couldn’t—or wouldn’t—see. Saw the hard work, the sleepless nights, the darkness pulling at his edges. For a little while, it had been getting better. Now, it was anything but.

He was so proud of him for finally standing up to their mother, but he was worried, too. Because if Jimin was done enough to do that, there was no telling what would happen next. So, Jihyun observed.

He would let his brother have his alone time. But if he needed him…Jihyun would be there in a second. He just wished it would be enough. Unfortunately, he didn’t think it would be.

Outside, thunder rumbled, promising a big one. It was going to be a long night.

In Jimin’s dream, he was on the bus, interstate flying by outside the rain-spattered windows.

His father sat next to him in the seat closest to the window, Jihyun in front of him drumming a pencil mindlessly against the binder in his lap. It was a familiar enough dream—how many other nights had he found himself sitting just like this, waiting for the inevitable sound of twisting metal and broken concrete as the bus went over the overpass? Nobody paid any attention to him, each too in their own world and unaware of the danger to see him. But impossibly, in the seat just across the aisle, Jungkook sat as well.

His arms were folded across his chest, head resting on his own shoulder as he slept. Soft snores issued from him, bunny teeth barely showing behind gently parted lips. His bangs hung over his face and Jimin longed to stand up and brush the hair off his forehead, just to feel his skin. He was just about to do just that—it was a dream, after all, what harm could it do?—when his father’s voice cut into the oddly muted bus.

“You weren’t the only one,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“The shadows. You weren’t the only one cursed with them.”

“I know,” Jimin added, remembering Taehyung’s grandmother.

“You don’t,” his father said, sterner than he ever had been before. “I saw them too.”

Jimin’s brows quirked together in confusion. “You…saw them too?”

“Yes. They cursed my every step. I thought I’d never escape,” his father replied. “But when you started seeing them too, I thought…well, it doesn’t matter what I thought. There’s really only one way to escape the curse.”

“If you saw them, then why the hell would you get on the bus?” Jimin said, voice rising in his anger.

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, boy. The only way to escape the shadows…is to give in to them.”

“You’re lying.”

“Why would I lie? I’m already dead, aren’t I? What do I have to hide now?” his father laughed, a sound nothing like the laugh he remembered. “God, I can’t believe I used to be as naïve as you. Don’t you get what I’m saying? I’m telling you there’s a way out.”

“Don’t you get it? I already tried. The shadows are still here. So that can’t be the way out.” Jimin shook his head, already done with this conversation. He hated this dream version of his father; he only knew how to hurt him.

“It’s not just giving in verbally,” his father continued as if Jimin hadn’t said anything. “They only want one thing, Jimin. Think about it. What is it the shadows want?”

Jimin stilled suddenly. “Are you telling me…that if I want to get rid of them, I have to…to die?”

“Ding ding, I always knew you were my smartest son,” his father said. The compliment felt more like an insult. Jimin felt even more certain that this thing was not his father, only a dark, mirror image of him. Still, his words…

“That’s not…my father would never…”

“Oh? Then why, again, would he get on a bus after you told him it was going to crash? Either he never truly believed you…”

Or he did, and he wanted to die.

“But Jihyun…He couldn’t have possibly…” Jimin was trying not to believe this, but it was like every word had the sharp, cold ring of truth. He couldn’t disbelieve it any more than he could disbelieve that a knife, if it was pointy enough, could pierce a man’s heart.

“Oh, he made sure your brother would survive.” The shadow-father waved his hand dismissively. “He did everything he could to ensure it. And he succeeded, though not nearly as much as he hoped. I don’t think even he anticipated the trauma of being in a car accident and watching a parent perish. Such a shame, that.”

“Stop. I don’t want to hear this…” Jimin said. His voice wobbled uncertainly.

“Don’t you? Aren’t you tired, Jimin? Haven’t you had enough? Your father certainly did. He was nearly overjoyed at the prospect of his death—god, how he craved the release. Jungkook would have been overjoyed, too, if only you’d let him experience it. Guess he’s going to just have to deal with the nasty business of living a little longer,” the shadow said.

“No,” Jimin said. “I don’t…I’m not ready to…”

“Too bad. Your time, dear boy, is up.”

The bus slammed into the concrete wall.

In the same moment, Jimin jolted back into reality. He had just enough time to realize he was no longer in his bed—that he was, in fact, standing on the edge of the bridge, the dark water swirling beneath him—before lightning crashed overhead and he lost his balance.

He desperately reached for the fence, but he had no time to turn around and it was too wet, the rain coming down way too hard for him to see the fence, let alone actively grip it. The world dropped out beneath him and he felt the horrible, weightless certainty that he was going to die.

He clenched his eyes shut and waited for it to be over.

Jungkook was restless.
The storm outside had awakened something dark and primal in him, body itching as if he were covered in thousands of ants. Every thunderclap made him want to jump out of himself, to be anywhere but here.

This time, the lightning was accompanied by the clinic’s phone ringing. He could hear it even from his room. It was way too late for it, so the phone rang several more times. Finally, the orderly on duty answered. It was the same one who had allowed Jungkook to call Jimin just the other night.

He had the breathless certainty that the phone was meant for him. He didn’t question it, didn’t care to. He just knew. A moment later, his door came open. “It’s for you,” the orderly said, looking perplexed.

Jungkook shot up out of his bed. “Hello? Jimin?” he said.

“No,” came an impossibly soft, unfamiliar voice. “Jihyun.”

Jungkook’s brain scrambled even more. It couldn’t be Jimin’s brother Jihyun. That Jihyun couldn’t talk.

“Jimin’s in trouble. Please.” Jihyun cleared his throat, obviously not used to saying anything. “He needs you.”

“I…I want to come, but how can I? I’m stuck in here.”

“The paperwork’s been filled out. You’re leaving in the morning anyway and I already talked to the orderly. He said he could allow it this once. Just…get here quick.”

“I will but can you at least tell me what’s going on? Why are you calling now? Is Jimin hurt?”

“Not yet, but he will be if you don’t get here soon. I…I don’t know where he is, but something tells me you will.”

Jungkook did. He didn’t know how, but he did. “I’ll be there.”

He hung up the phone and said to the orderly, “Let’s go.”

The orderly nodded, hands shaking as he pulled the keys out of his pocket. “I never did anything like this before. I’m going to lose my job.”

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook said. “I really am. But if we don’t do this…someone might lose their life.”

That was all Jungkook needed to say. They both tore out of the clinic and into his car.

The ride back was a blur to Jungkook. He directed the orderly as best he could, knowing that they needed to reach the bridge by 3:33 AM. He knew it the same way he knew that the phone had been for him, the same way he knew that whatever voice had implored him to take those pills hadn’t been his. It was pure animal instinct, divine psychic interference, something somewhere in between—he didn’t know how, but he knew that he knew it.

“Stop now!” Jungkook shouted, spying the blonde figure wavering uncertainly on the edge of the bridge. Jungkook’s heart thudded in his throat. For the first time in his memory, this bridge was not an object of utilitarian beauty to him. It was ugly, violent, terrible. It was going to take Jimin away from him forever if he didn’t do something fast.

Jungkook was out of the car before he even realized that he had completed the process of opening the door. His bare feet splashed in the water and he tore across the bridge, ducking around a car.

He had just reached the opening in the gate when Jimin began to fall.

A scream tore itself out of his throat. He jolted forward, struggling to get his body through the opening. His hand grasped for Jimin’s, and for one incredible second, he thought he’d done it. His hand caught Jimin’s. It was going to be okay.

But then the rain loosened his grip, made it slippery, and Jimin was falling, falling.

Jungkook didn’t think. He jumped after him.

The water was every bit as cold as Jimin had told him it would be. Hitting it felt like being stung a thousand times by a nest of hornets. Had Jungkook not braced himself for it, he would have lost his breath the second he hit the surface.

Inside the water was chaos. It felt as if it were spinning around him, a churning vortex of darkness that wouldn’t let anyone out of it. But Jungkook was determined. He had never much cared what happened to him until Jimin came into his life. He wasn’t about to let this water take him away.

His hand reached, desperately grasping at nothing until finally, finally, he caught Jimin’s hand. He latched on, used it to tug the smaller, unresisting body close to him. Now he just had to figure out which way was up.

He kicked gallantly, holding Jimin against him like a doll. His chest was screaming, breath desperately aching to escape. How many times had he and Tae competed to see who could hold their breath the longest? How many times had Jungkook lasted almost twice as long and boast about it for the next several minutes, until Tae splashed him enough times that the annoyance outweighed the sense of victory? He could do it now. He could last, just a little longer, just push a little harder…

They exploded out of the water. The current had taken them a little further down, but it was fine. He could breathe. His muscles were aching, shivers threatening to overwhelm him. But adrenaline came on just as strong, giving Jungkook that little burst of energy to reach the banks.

He set Jimin down and rolled him over. “Come on, come on,” he muttered, just as much to himself as Jimin. “Breathe dammit!”

But it was clear now that Jimin wasn’t breathing. In fact, he wasn’t doing anything at all. Fingers shaking, Jungkook felt around his neck for a pulse. Nothing, nothing….god, he couldn’t tell if there really was nothing or if his own pounding pulse was making it impossible to feel.

Jungkook remembered working as a lifeguard last summer. He’d learned CPR, though at the time it hadn’t felt all that important. Now, he thanked every god he knew of as he decided the best thing he could do for Jimin was breathe for him. Nothing else mattered.

He rolled him on his back and began pushing into his chest, willing the other to breathe. Anything. Two, three…he lost count of his breaths and he was aware that he was sobbing but he didn’t have time for emotions.

Sirens sounded, but Jungkook couldn’t think of that. Couldn’t do anything but push Jimin’s chest and then press his lips to his, forcing what air he could into his lungs before trying again.

Then he was being pulled away. It was the orderly. Jungkook screamed something unintelligible, fought against his grip. “It’s no use, it’s no use, stop,” the orderly said. He sounded like he was crying too, even though he couldn’t possibly know who Jimin was, couldn’t possibly comprehend the loss.

And then there were paramedics and Jungkook couldn’t even see Jimin anymore. They had those paddle things, the ones they always used when someone was dead and they were going to try one more time to bring him back.

Jungkook fought some more. He didn’t know what he could do, but he needed to be able to see, needed to know that he was okay…Jimin jolted as the paddles pressed his now-bare chest.

The paramedics checked again. “Nothing. Again!”

Twice more, they tried. Twice more, the one who was tasked with checking the success shook his head. No, no, no….

“Breathe, goddammit!” Jungkook screamed before he felt a needle slide into his arm and he went quite still, body losing its strength. Sedative?

His face clouded in betrayal, but just then…

“We got him back! Hurry, load him on the ambulance. We don’t want to lose him again.”

Jungkook sobbed. He was okay, Jimin was okay, everything was going to be okay.

“Please,” the orderly said. “Can this kid ride with? He did just pull him out of the river…”

“Fine, but hurry, the sooner we get them both to the hospital, the better,” the paramedic replied and Jungkook leaned heavily onto the orderly as they climbed up the bank behind Jimin’s stretcher and bundled into the ambulance. Jungkook wasn’t shivering anymore, so they placed a blanket on his shoulders and began checking him over.

All Jungkook could do was reach for Jimin’s hand. Surprisingly, when his fingers touched the other’s, Jimin’s clung back.

“Minie…” Jungkook sobbed.

“You saved me this time, Kook,” Jimin said, voice weak and muffled by the oxygen mask that had been placed over his mouth and nose, but he was alive, he was okay.

Jungkook laughed—an insane sound all considered—and squeezed Jimin’s hand as much as his body’s failing strength would allow. “Yeah, seems neither one of us has quite mastered the art of drowning,” he said.

“Guess not,” Jimin said, coughing a little and then groaning. “And now that I’ve officially died—three whole minutes of being dead, this guy said—maybe we can finally have a little relief from curses. Wanna go on a date sometime?”

“I’d like that, hyung. I’d really, really like that,” Jungkook said, then he allowed his body to slump as the sedative finally took full-effect.

Everything was going to be okay…