Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The end of the year was not something Jimin necessarily looked forward to.

Honestly, he was exhausted.

Awards show after awards show, special performances, TV appearances, tour stops. Photoshoots, interviews, game shows. One thing after another. It was just routine to him now, being moved from location to location, having each little thing planned out down to the minute. A part of him loved the structure - craved it, really - but another part of him was currently succumbing to the chronic, bone-deep craving for relief that he couldn’t even bear to get out of bed.

One last show, Jimin recited. I can make it through one last awards show. Then an interview or two. Oh no, I almost forgot about the photoshoot on the -

Jimin groaned, burying his head deeper into the pillow. He couldn't breathe properly anymore but it hardly registered in his brain. Exhaustion from the previous day had settled deep into his muscles and seeped into his bones, refusing to leave. Even his usual expansive cool down ritual hadn't helped. Ah, whatever. Not like I'd have a chance to completely recover, not with how things have been going. Just one more show. One more show. One more -

Jimin froze mid-thought and stiffened as a large pair of hands made contact with the nape of his neck. He couldn’t stop the light shiver as they slid over to his shoulders, squeezing once before travelling down his spine. The blanket once covering his body was gently pulled down, the bare skin on his back prickling as it was exposed to the colder air. Jimin took a shaky breath, his body lighting up with a tingling sensation that only intensified when a pair of lips brushed the outside of his ear. Jimin lifted his head up, forcing his eyes open and mindlessly staring at the headboard until it came into focus.

“Jimin-ssi, it’s time to wake up. We’re supposed to be leaving in an hour.”

The only thing keeping Jimin from socking whoever was touching him so… intimately was the fact that he already knew who it was from the second those hands had made contact with him. Jeon Jungkook. It was almost like a sixth sense kicked in whenever the younger man was anywhere near him. It had started out small, unnoticeable, but over the years that they had grown to know each other, it had developed until Jimin could pick him out even through the smallest, most obscure details. Jeon Jungkook triggered something in Park Jimin that he did not fully know how to handle.

Granted, it also helped that the other members never touched him excessively unless they were trying to pass off a scripted fanservice plot for the camera. Thankfully, that didn't happen too often anymore. There were multiple reasons that Jimin didn’t deal well with the forced skinship - but he didn't have the time to even start on that thought before those same hands were hooking themselves under his shoulders and lifting him up, flipping him around into a sitting position with back against the headboard. Jimin blinked, trying to kickstart his brain and fully process what had just happened. His head felt fuzzy with a mix of sleep, exhaustion, and another feeling that he did not want to put a name to.

“Jimin-ssi, oxygen is for breathing. Did you not know?”

Jimin cracked a weak smile, playing along. “Yes, thank you, Jungkookie, I wasn’t aware.” He closed his eyes and yawned, running a hand through his hair and doing his best to put off looking at the younger man leaning on the side of the bed in front of him. Last night he’d been too tired from the award show to even shower properly, forgoing his usual elaborate routine for a quick scrub. Cleaning himself properly was definitely something he would have to take care of as soon as he could - but for now all he could focus on was the faint remnants of Jungkook’s touch that still remained on his skin. Jimin's hand fell down to toy at the sheets as he finally gave in and looked at Jungkook, who was watching him with a careful smile that Jimin did not want to decipher. He had clearly been up for a while - his black hair was shiny but damp from a shower, his eyes sparkling with an energy Jimin didn't have. He was wearing a comfy-looking combo of black sweats and a black zip-up hoodie, accessorized only by a pair of small silver hoop earrings. Jimin couldn't help but smile back, entranced at the way Jungkook was watching him.

After realizing he had probably been staring for way too long, Jimin averted his eyes and shook himself out of the mental haze as best as he could, yawning for a second time. “Thank you for waking me up, Jungkookie. I don't even think I set my alarm last night.”

“You definitely didn't.” Jungkoook responded, laughing quietly. He threw a leg onto the bed and leaned back on one hand. “You passed out as soon as we finished changing in the dressing room. None of the hyungs could wake you up. Not even Hoseok! Taehyung had to carry you to the car. I’m not sure how you were able to sleep through that, actually, because he was being quite loud.”

Jimin couldn’t help but also laugh, voice cracking. He remembered last night's performance, how they had sung and danced their hearts out, hitting every note and spinning around to meet each beat, but he doesn't remember the car ride home. It was just as he thought - the constant schedules were catching up to him, taking a mental and physical toll on his already weary self. At this, Jimin couldn’t help but fall into another pit of never-ending thoughts. Just one more show. A couple more interviews. A couple more photoshoots for Army.

Once again, Jimin had to shake himself out of his own head. I don’t have time to sit around and worry. His eyes darted around the room, taking in the strip of sunlight that was sneaking in through the partially-covered window, causing shadows to be cast on the opposite wall. The other bed was empty, Hoseok nowhere to be seen. They each had their own places now, but it was easier to share one space during busier periods. His own apartment was nice, it was something he had spent a decent amount of money on, but he wasn’t home very often. For the little time that he was home, a part of him missed all the noise and mess that living with six other men caused. He’d gotten used to it, even if it wasn’t something he agreed with on day one.

He caught Jungkook’s eye, noting the worried gaze. “I’m fine, Jungkook-ah. I’m just really tired. The schedules these days are tough - but please don’t worry about me, okay?”

Jungkook pushed himself off of the bed. “They are,” he agreed, shoving his hands in his pockets like he was going to walk away. But he didn’t, instead continuing to stare at Jimin like he wasn’t finished. Jimin just stared back, now fully awake and aware that he did not have a shirt on. There was no reason to feel weird about it, they knew each other inside and out, but something was different when it came to the man with the breezy confidence and kind, round eyes.

Oh, Jungkook. Jimin felt guilty every time he thought about him. They hadn't gotten along at first, but things had changed along the way. For better, then for worse. The name alone unlocked a place in his head he preferred to keep tucked away. It dragged thoughts, feelings, and a certain set of wants out that Jimin was not allowed to make himself privy to.

Not anymore.

All he ever got out of it was guilt. Guilt and hurt and a sense of longing that made him relive memories long since pushed away.

America, a hotel room hours before an interview. Large hands carding gently through his hair, thumbs brushing across his cheeks. Letting his head rest in the space between Jungkooks’s neck and shoulder. Low words rumbling through his ears, straight down his spine.

Paris, backstage after their concert. Gasping breaths - adrenaline still shooting through his nerves like a live wire. An arm tossed across his shoulders, supporting his aching body. Finally being able to sit down, eyes fluttering with exhaustion. A faint breath against his collarbone, a feather-light kiss pressed onto his chest. His heart, hammering underneath.

Seoul, its nighttime glow reflecting against the panes of Jungkook’s glasses. Exchanging glances, Jimin’s eyes loaded with things better left unsaid. Understanding that it should not be. Jungkook, sadness coloring his face. Something else hiding underneath.

Long ago, Jimin had decided that distance was the best option. It kept those thoughts and feelings shoved far away, where he did not have to face them. He watched as the timid, young teenager he met years ago developed into the strong and confident young man that Jimin was more than proud to know and work with. My best friend.

“Hyung? Are you sure you’re okay? You keep going quiet.”

There I go again. “I’m okay, I promise.” Jimin smiled and to stamp down his inner turmoil. Jungkook shouldn’t have to worry about him like that. But there was no way he could bring himself to answer truthfully. Instead, he decided to switch the topic. “Do you know if the bathroom is free?”

Jungkook narrowed his eyes, not looking entirely convinced, but he let their conversation go. Jimin ignored the fact that he had clearly noticed how the topic had made him uncomfortable. “Yeah. Everyone else is already up. Jin-hyung and Yoongi-hyung are making breakfast in the kitchen. I’ll - I’ll let them know you’ll be out in a bit.”

Jimin decided now was the best time to leave, so he flung the blankets off the rest of the way, finally exposing his legs to the cold air. He shivered, only wearing a pair of shorts. Jungkook coughed awkwardly and turned away, shoving his hands in his pockets. Oh, shy now? Look at me. Jimin followed quietly behind him, catching the younger man in a hug. Even if he kept telling himself to stay away, he knew he couldn’t. Not every time. But, just this once, Jimin told himself it was fine. He could indulge now and repent later. He tilted his head up, making sure his words went directly into Jungkook’s ear. It was private, personal. Just for him. “Thank you for waking me up, Jungkook-ah. And I promise, I’m okay. There’s just a lot going on.”

When Jimin let him go, Jungkook turned around, trying to hide his face behind the hoodie sleeve. “Yeah,” Jungkook sighed in response, relaxing his shoulders. The hand fell. “There is. We’re all exhausted, aren’t we? But -” He cut himself off - gaze shooting across the room - then continued. “How about we get some chicken and beer after the show? We can eat it on the balcony at my place, like we used to. My treat.”

Jimin hummed, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes, appraising the unsure look on the younger man’s face. He allowed himself to give Jungkook a small nudge to the shoulder before responding. “Sounds good to me. Want to invite any of the other guys?”

Jungkook opened his mouth but nothing came out. Something in the way he hesitated to respond set Jimin on edge. Maybe I’m just imagining it.

“Um - sure, if you’d like. I’m happy with whatever you’d like to do, of course, but we haven’t hung out in a while. Just the two of us.” Jungkook suddenly looked quite sad and Jimin frowned, wincing slightly. He wasn’t wrong, and it wasn’t just because they had been busy.

You’re no good for me. I shouldn’t. But I want to.

“Okay,” Jimin whispered through a sigh. “I’m sorry, Jungkook-ah. I haven’t been ignoring you, I promise. Chicken and beer at yours. Want me to bring something sweet?”

Suddenly, the frown was gone.

“What, besides yourself?”

Jimin blushed, flustered by Jungkook’s bold statement. The younger man only smirked in response. He had only recently started saying things like that, though mostly aimed at the camera for the fans. “I - Shut it, Jungkook-ah. Nevermind, I don’t want to go anymore.” Jimin stepped forward, pushing past him in a defiant manner. Jungkook’s shoulders shook with quiet laughter. “I’m just kidding. Please bring something sweet. We’ve got the day off after, right? So we’ll have some time.”

“I look forward to it, Jungkookie. But now I need to shower. I feel gross.”

Jungkook trailed behind him, both men hovering at the doorway. He looked down at Jimin, one eyebrow raised. “Need any help?”

“No thank you,” Jimin sputtered, pushing the other man away from him. His heart was beating faster. He needed to get away. The voices of the other members filtered down the hallway, overlapping enough so that Jimin couldn’t quite understand what they were saying. “Go help Jin-hyung. I’m sure you can make yourself useful there.”

“Yes,” Jungkook stated in a monotone voice, playfully saluting before turning and marching towards the kitchen. Jimin just laughed to himself, watching Jungkook walk away as he tried to process everything that had just happened. There was something about him, something that Jimin categorized as dangerous. Jungkook knew how to play him just right, to where he stopped knowing what to do with himself. How to understand it. Every interaction with Jungkook gave him a deeper sense of want, digging further into the pits of thoughts that he told himself he’d never touch again.

It’s for the better.

Jimin just sighed, deciding to deal with his mixed bag of emotions at a later date. Like he always did. “You tell yourself that,” he muttered to himself while returning to the room to put together his outfit for the day. Jimin gathered his clothes and hygiene items and made a beeline for the bathroom, thankfully not running into anyone else on the way.

Thirty minutes later, as he stared at himself in the fogged up mirror, no one had to know that he willed himself to not think about their interaction, instead locking it and all his complicated feelings back into the ever-growing box in his head.

Ignore it. Ignore it. This is how it should be. Temptation should not be followed. Nothing good will come from it. Only shame and disappointment. More pain.

But he couldn’t get the image of round, kind eyes out of his head.

-- -- -- --

After his shower Jimin quickly applied a liberal amount of moisturizer and chapstick, still trying to ignore the fact that he couldn't stop thinking about this morning's interaction with Jungkook. He kept his hands busy, throwing on a loose white tee, black sweatpants and a green hoodie before deeming himself presentable. By the time Jimin made it out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, breakfast was almost ready.

“Oh, Jimin-ah! Welcome!”

Hoseok’s beaming smile lit a path through the crowded room that Jimin immediately gravitated toward. There was something about the easy-going aura around the older man that made Jimin relax and smile back. He made his way over to the empty chair across from Hoseok, sitting down quietly. Jin and Yoongi were messing around at the stove; Taehyung was sitting next to Jimin, shaking his head back and forth, listening to something through his headphones. Namjoon and Jungkook were both staring at the leader’s phone, fully engrossed.

“Hi, hyung. I’m sorry I’m late, I didn’t mean to sleep so late -”

Hoseok shrugged and shook his head. “It’s okay, Jimin-ah. Last night was exhausting, even for me.”

“You can say that again,” Yoongi chimed in, his voice nearly a scoff. “These schedules sometimes - ah, I swear. I’m getting too old for this.” He swung around from the stove, placing an empty bowl in front of Jimin. “Good morning, Jimin-ah.”

Jimin murmured a quiet response back, somehow still not feeling entirely awake. Yoongi rubbed a hand through his hair and Jimin closed his eyes, enjoying the stimulation while Yoongi spoke again, this time directed away from him. “By the way, what songs are we performing again? Fake Love and what else?”

“Anpanman,” Namjoon responded from his spot at the other end of the table. He was leaning to the side, head propped up while his tired eyes stayed glued to his phone. “Sejin is saying we need to be at the company by eight. Something about the possibility of bad weather.”

Taehyung and Jin groaned in unison while Jungkook absentmindedly started singing the chorus of Fake Love. Jimin couldn’t help but relate to their sentiment. “He’s sending a car now. Are we ready to eat?”

Yoongi set a final bowl down in front of Jungkook, who Jimin had avoided looking at up until now. He hadn't moved since Jimin had sat down, head laid on top of his arms at the table. He looked up from the leader’s phone to politely thank Yoongi, but it only took a moment before his eyes were finding Jimin’s. There was a sort of pull that tugged at Jimin’s chest every time he looked at the younger man. It was almost magnetic, the way he could never bring himself to look away. The look in Jungkook’s eye was unreadable, but Jimin didn’t get a chance to decipher it before Hoseok was clapping his hands, loudly stating that it was time to eat. He shook himself out of the daze, breaking eye contact with Jungkook before focusing on the food in front of him. They ate in silence, quickly inhaling what they could before Namjoon’s phone was ringing, letting them know that it was time to go.

Leaving the apartment was a quick affair; they'd gotten used to the frantic routine after years of daily practice. Jimin was the last out, quickly throwing on a facemask and beanie as Namjoon locked the door behind them. The ride to the company started off fairly quiet, everyone choosing to save their energy for rehearsals. Namjoon sat up front with the driver; Jungkook, Hoseok, and Jin piled into the front row while Jimin hid himself in the back row, sitting between Taehyung and Yoongi. He let his head rest on Taehyung’s shoulder, the younger man removing his beanie and ruffling his hair fondly.

“Tired, Jiminie?”

Popular question today, Jimin thought to himself, though he only nodded in response. “I’m just ready for a break.”

“Oh, I feel that,” Hoseok groaned. “We’re almost there, Jimin-ah. You’ve been doing great.”

“Our Jimin, the one and only,” Jin chimed in, turning around to face the back seat. He reached a hand back to tug at Jimin’s chin. “Wow, so handsome!”

Jimin couldn’t help the blush that colored his cheeks. They knew his weaknesses too well.

He didn’t bother to stop the wave of compliments that came shortly after, every single member suddenly deciding that they wanted to share every little detail about Jimin that they loved. He tried to fire some of his own back at them, but they weren’t going to stop so easily.

“Cutie, sexy, lovely,” Jungkook crowed, staring right at him. Jimin rolled his eyes and smiled, thoroughly overwhelmed by all the attention and sudden change of atmosphere.

“Hyung, you’re one to talk,” he muttered towards Jin while covering his face with his hands in embarrassment. Jin only laughed back at him, Jungkook joining as they high-fived over Hoseok’s head.

Jimin smiled at their antics, absently listening to their energetic chatter. For the rest of the drive, he quieted back down, letting the gentle petting from Taehyung lull him back into a cozy daze. It wasn’t long until they had arrived at the company - their dorm was close by and Jimin knew every turn like the back of his hand. He hopped out, pulling the beanie back over his head. They filed out from the car and into the building, almost mindlessly marching to the practice rooms. Hoseok sped ahead, eager to start warming up.

One more day, Jimin chanted to himself. The squeaky, shiny floors and overly bright lights were both a comforting and anxiety-inducing combination. It was a place that had become a second home to him throughout his years since moving to Seoul. When he was new and shy, still getting to know the other men, he would often hide away in the furthest practice room possible. Day after day, night after night, he would spend hours dancing and singing; crying and panicking until his brain was muddled with an overload of emotions. The practice rooms were his safe space - an area to hide from all the fear, the anxiety, the unsureness that came with debuting practically unknown. Of not knowing if they would fail - that if they did he would have to move back home. Seoul was too expensive. But moving home - that was a thought that he could never fully push away. It hung over him like a storm cloud and occupied a space in his head that he could never get rid of, sitting right next to his fear of failure and drive for constant perfection.

Jimin continued to stew in his thoughts as his feet carried him on autopilot, trailing slightly behind the other members. He bumped into the doorway as he made his way in, sticking close to the wall and finding a corner to slide down into. Deep breath. Clear your head. Focus on the performance. Nothing else matters right now.

The others had already spread out across the room, bending into various stretches. Staff members milled around as they waited for instructions, most talking amongst each other while a few others held cameras, presumably filming new content for ARMY. Thankfully nothing was aimed in Jimin's direction - they seemed to understand that he wanted to be left alone.

Jimin sighed and dropped his head. The overhead lights shone down relentlessly, filtering through his closed eyelids and trickling into his already-overwhelmed brain. He was doing his damndest to push through the wall of mental distractions but it was quickly proving to be a losing battle. Especially since they were currently in the same practice room where he’d last broken down - sobbing his heart out as he leaned against the mirror, stressing over a certain move he couldn’t seem to get right - he’d done this a million times, why now couldn’t he -

Jimin groaned in pure frustration, pausing the music on his phone. Suddenly, it was silent. He started to grit his teeth so forcefully that it started to send shooting pains up his jaw. He’s done this move before. Over and over and over. It hadn't caused him any trouble until now. Why? Why now? It couldn’t be the exhaustion pulling at his skin, he’d only been practicing since six. It’d only been eight hours; he’s gone for longer. This should be nothing. It couldn’t be because of the constant schedules that left no room for proper rest. It couldn’t be the excruciating pace he’d been pushing himself at - he’s done this for years. It couldn’t be the fact that he hadn't been eating as much. Important performances always sent him into overdrive. He had to look his best! Thousands of people would be staring at him, examining every detail. It was his damn job.

What changed? Why now? Why couldn’t he keep going?

Jimin met his own eyes in the mirror, eye bags and red-rimmed irises not making for a pretty sight. The blonde in his hair was fading, giving way to darker roots. It was shiny with grease from overexertion, falling limp on his face. He was panting, greedily sucking in air, but couldn’t seem to catch his breath. His clothes, a simple combination of black and grey, clung to his skinny frame. Bare feet gripped the floor as he swayed, the world suddenly becoming spotty.

Jimin finally allowed himself a break, the mirror shaking as he fell against it. He slid down to the floor, eyes fluttering shut as he tried to slow his erratic heartbeat. Maybe - maybe it was time to take a break. Just a quick five minute one. Drink some water, stretch a little more. Maybe he was still too stiff. After all, perfection only flourishes through hard work and dedication, right?

He just needed to go for a little longer. Sure, they had an early start tomorrow, but he’d dealt with that before. Running around all day on two hours or less of sleep, if it could even be called that. He wasn’t worried. He’d perfected acting all bright and bubbly, even if it meant he’d been up for over twenty-four hours straight. None of this was new to him.

But why was he so exhausted now?

The beginnings of a sob ripped through the deepest parts of his chest, tearing up his throat and coming out as an ugly sound that made him cringe. “Stop, stop,” he whispered, voice breaking. “Stop it. Calm down. Keep going. You have to keep going.”

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t make himself move an inch. No one else was there to help - or force - him to get up. Jimin stayed curled against the mirror, hands fisting at his eyes. The sobs didn’t stop now. They were loud, echoing throughout the otherwise empty room. There was fog on the mirror. The lights felt brighter than ever, bearing down like a desert sun. Fresh tears pricked at his eyes, rolling hot down his cheeks and gathering in his hands. He whimpered, rubbing them off on his shirt. He felt gross as he stared down at the floor. Hot. Sweaty. Sticky with salty tears and the sting of self disappointment.

The sudden chime of his phone snapped him out of his daze. He sat for a minute, unsure if what he heard was real. When it chimed again, he finally moved - crawling across the studio on his hands and knees. His muscles screamed in protest from all the movement after sitting still for so long. It took him a minute, but he made it, grabbing at the device with slick fingers. His eyes were so blurry he could barely see the screen, but after a couple forceful blinks the meaningless words came into view.

Jeon Jungkook (1:25am)
Hyung? When will you be home? It’s pretty late. We have to be up early, don’t we?

Jimin stubbornly stared at the screen. He watched as another text rolled through.

Are you okay? Yoongi-hyung is still up too, we can come get you. Are you still at the practice rooms?

Jimin’s throat closed up as another wave of tears started to roll down his cheeks. With shaky hands, he finally composed a decent-sounding response.

Park Jimin (1:29am)
I’m fine, Jungkook-ah. Please don’t worry. Yes, I’m still at the studio. You should go to bed, you need rest. I’ll just finish up here and be home soon, okay? I promise.

Jeon Jungkook (1:30am)
Are you sure?

Jimin’s fingers stilled, unable to properly respond. It was just a simple question. It wasn’t complicated. But the answer was. He’d already lied to Jungkook enough; it pained him to lie to him more. But the truth was an ugly beast that Jimin didn’t even know how to explain, even to himself. So he lied. Again.

Park Jimin (1:33am)
Yes. I’m sure. I’ll be home by two, okay? Go to sleep. Tell Yoongi-hyung.

Jeon Jungkook (1:34am)
Okay, hyung. I love you.

Jimin couldn't help but laugh at the sudden explosion of feelings in his chest. They were so muddled together that they felt like sludge dripping down his ribcage, wrapping around his heart with a grip so tight he flinched.

Park Jimin (1:36am)
I love you too, Jungkookie.

Jimin stared down at his phone, stuck in a heap on the floor. The words “I love you” warped and blurred through a haze of tears so thick he didn’t notice that he’d started to shake. The sludge in his chest felt like it was growing thicker by the second. Jimin smiled to himself, attempting to force his body into an upright position. But before he could, another text came through on his phone. He looked down quickly, expecting another message from Jungkook, but the name on his screen caused his blood to freeze. His muscles locked up. The tears falling freely out of his eyes suddenly paused.

Mom (1:40am)
Hey Jimin. I know it’s late, but I wanted to continue our conversation from earlier. Have you thought about -

Jimin didn’t even finish reading the message before he was aggressively swiping it away and locking his phone. A sudden surge of white-hot anger surged through his veins, forcing yet another round of tears to gather at the corners of his eyes. He shoved himself up and off the floor, clenching his jaw. All of his motivation to practice was suddenly gone.

“Why, why why,” he whined, feeling utterly pathetic. He always felt like this when she spoke.

In the next minute, he had gathered his things, ripping his phone charger out of the wall with an anger he barely recognized. Jimin threw on his jacket and shoved his hat over his head, hooking a mask over his ears and fumbling with his glasses. He didn’t care how disgusting he felt. He needed to leave. Right now.

“Please. Why, why, why,” he continued whining to himself, in pain as he limped down the darkened hallway of the company building. “Just leave me alone.” The sobs were back in full force now. At least the only person here at these hours other than him was the single security guard, and he was nowhere to be seen.

Jimin was alone.

If he continued crying the whole walk back to the dorms, no one had to know. If he got home and laid straight in bed, body screaming in pain, no one had to know. If he didn’t sleep a wink, no one had to know. If he stared at his wall until his vision was going in and out, no one had to know. If the rising sun made him sink deeper into his pit of thoughts, no one had to -

“Jimin-hyung.”

Jimin flinched - hard. He shot up in fear, not fully recognizing who was speaking and where he was at. Slowly, his surroundings came into view.

Jungkook stood in front of him, blocking out the rest of the room. His head was cocked sideways and he was frowning with a degree of concern that made Jimin’s heart ache.

How long was I -

Jungkook crouched down, resting his arms on his knees. His frown seemed to get even deeper, concern dripping out of every pore. “Hyung. What’s going on? You say you’re just tired, but something tells me you’re not telling me the whole truth.”

His voice was hushed, whispering. Only meant for the two of them. He tried to look around Jungkook - to see what the other members were doing, if any staff had noticed - but the younger man’s bigger body hid everything else. Jimin gave up trying to find a way out, instead looking upwards and catching Jungkook’s eye. He stared and stared, unsure of what to say. Jungkook just held steady, his gaze feeling like a wave of calmness that made Jimin want to tell him everything. Jimin’s heart thumped dangerously loud in his chest.

“I - I - I’ve just been thinking recently,” Jimin finally stammered out, tearing his eyes away and letting them fall to the floor. I can’t tell him the truth. Not everything. Not here. “I’ve just been thinking about, ah, lots of things.” Jimin felt his throat slowly start to close up. His words became quieter as he mumbled to the hardwood. Don’t cry. Not here. They don’t need to see that. Jungkook shouldn’t have to deal with that. “There’s just been a lot on my mind recently. The schedules, the performances. I’ve also, uh, got some personal stuff that I’ve been thinking about, so -”

“Do you need a break?” Jungkook interrupted, suddenly touching the underside of Jimin’s chin and moving his head upwards so they could look each other in the eyes again. Caught off guard, Jimin’s first reaction was to laugh quietly. He ignored the twist in his heart. “No, no, Jungkookie. We’re almost done, aren’t we? I can wait. I’ll be fine, I promise. We’re all tired, it’s been pretty busy lately. I’ll just wait for our scheduled break.”

Jungkook didn’t reply for a minute. Jimin tapped his fingers awkwardly when Jungkook narrowed his eyes, suddenly feeling shy under the intense scrutiny. He licked his lips nervously, fighting the urge to start biting at them. The silence stretched until Jimin couldn’t take it anymore and he lifted his head off of Jungkook’s hand, letting it fall back against the wall. He again tried to look around the younger man, wondering if anyone had noticed their interaction. It wasn’t something that he really wanted to be noticed, much less filmed and shown to ARMY.

What would they say? What would they think? It’s too easy to draw conclusions from things like these.

“Jungkook-ah, maybe we should get back to -”

“Jimin-ah.”

The serious tone and lack of honorifics caught Jimin’s attention and caused him to look back at the younger man. A light scolding that was on the tip of his tongue quickly died out as Jungkook spoke again.

“Please look at me. Focus on me. They aren’t paying attention to us.”

Jimin didn’t know how Jungkook had figured out he was worried about that, but he couldn’t bring himself to ignore the order. As he stared back up at Jungkook, the noise of the rest of the room fizzled down to a low hum.

“Please, answer me truthfully. You can talk to me. I’ll listen. If you need anything, I want you to get it. I know you push yourself further than you should. I want to be there for you. I want to support you. So, please, if something is bothering you, tell me.” Jungkook’s words rang loud and clear in the small bubble that had formed between the two of them. They punched a hole in Jimin’s chest, wrapping around his heart like a set of strings pulled a little too tight. Strings that felt like a lifeline, like something Jimin could either grab onto to stay afloat or let himself become entangled and sink into the endless ocean of his thoughts. Jimin could only stare, eyes wide with surprise, at the man in front of him.

“Or, of course, you can talk to any of us, I don’t mean to force you to tell me, I’m just saying -”

“Jungkook-ah, it’s okay,” Jimin laughed quietly, noticing that Jungkook’s cheeks had gone red. He was toying with his earrings, now looking shy. Jimin smiled and put both of his hands on Jungkook’s face, tapping it lightly. His skin was smooth to the touch and it only seemed to make the already-present red turn deeper. “It’s okay, I promise. Thank you for reaching out to me, I really do appreciate it. I - I don’t really want to talk about it here, though. It’s a little, ah, crowded.” He paused and crinkled his eyes. “How about we talk later? After the show, when we’re eating. Does that sound good?”

Jungkook simply nodded in response. The genuine happiness on his face surprised Jimin. I don’t know if I’ve truly seen him like this in a while. Do I really make him this happy?

The intrusive thought caught Jimin off guard. A sudden twist of guilt in his chest made him give Jungkook one more tap on the cheek before he pulled away. We need to focus. We have a job to do. I can’t be distracting him like this. Jungkook didn’t look too happy Jimin had pulled away so quickly, but there was a brief flash of understanding on his face before he stood up, breaking the thin walls that had formed between them. The noise of the room rushed back in, assaulting Jimin’s ears before everything clicked back into place. He was in one of the practice rooms at their company building, supposed to be stretching before they launched into their hours-long rehearsal session. Focus. Focus. The room was filled with people, yet none of them were looking his way. Relief licked up his spine. It seemed like no one had noticed their interaction. It was better that way. It needed to be that way. If no one noticed, there was nothing to misinterpret.

Jimin took a deep breath and shot Jungkook a look, dipping his head in a small yet genuine motion of thanks. Jungkook smiled in return as he walked backwards, heading to join the others. No one had to know how Jimin’s breath caught, how his heart skipped a beat. No one had to know how the tendrils of guilt curled tighter and tighter, digging into the deepest parts of him. No one had to know how he longed. How he yearned for more. How he also yearned for it to just stop.

Jimin shoved everything to the back of his head again, barely able to contain it. One day he would snap. But not right now. Right now, he had to hold himself together.

One more show. One more.

Slowly, he joined the others. He let himself slip into the mindset he used for the stage, the persona he used for the cameras. It was easy - washing over him like a wave; a wave too large to surf.

If this was how the morning was currently going, Jimin didn’t know how he would be able to make it through the end of the day.

-- -- -- --

By the time the end of their rehearsal rolled around, Jimin’s tumultuous thoughts had settled down to a low murmur that he could easily ignore. His head was finally a level of quiet that he could work with; a certain kind of quiet that only came with the exertion of pushing himself during a routine.

Jimin panted and wiped a hand through his hair, scraping the lingering strands off of his forehead. He was sweaty; his clothes sticking to him at every possible angle. It was gross, sure, but the satisfaction from a successful practice outweighed his lingering discomfort. They’d run through Fake Love first, relearning the familiar steps and making changes until everyone was happy with the result. After a short break (where Jimin spent most of his time sprawled out on the floor with Taehyung) they started on Anpanman. For this specific performance, they had decided to switch up the choreography - keeping the first half of the track the same, but instead of finishing out the song in the center of the stage together, they would spread out - each member standing on a different raised platform. Jimin found himself to be a fan of the idea. It was something new and the fans would definitely like it. The song would end with the seven of them striking a different pose - it was a fun end to a song that was sure to hype ARMY up. Their timeslot for performing was near the end, so it would also double as a much-needed energy boost to keep everyone watching entertained. Award shows were long, dragging on for longer than they should. To Jimin, at least.

Or maybe he was just tired.

“Alright, everyone,” Namjoon’s voice rang through the practice room as he clapped his hands together. “Sejin has some important information to share before we move on. Listen up.”

Jimin didn’t move from where he sat, instead making eye contact with Namjoon across the room to show that he was listening. Four of the other members gathered near, talking amongst themselves. Jimin frowned, looking around. The only one missing was Jungkook.

Where’d he go? I didn’t see him leave.

Jimin scanned the faces in front of him, not seeing the younger man anywhere. He was about to ask Namjoon to wait, they were missing one, but before he could a faint noise from behind made him turn around. There Jungkook sat, leaned back on his hands with a leg tossed to the side. He looked relaxed, comfortable. Jimin glanced up, twitching in surprise as he made eye contact. Jungkook was already looking - no, staring at him, gaze confident and focused. He didn’t flinch when Jimin noticed him, only giving him a small smile. Jungkook’s eyes flicked up to Namjoon, head giving a small jerk that Jimin understood as pay attention. Jimin felt himself smile in return, partially on autopilot. He turned back around and tried to reel himself back in, but it was proving to be a difficult task. During practice, he’d kept catching eyes with Jungkook in the mirror - every time he had looked up, Jungkook was already staring back at him. Maybe he was still worried about him after everything that had happened earlier. I wish I could tell him to stop worrying about me. I’ve been worse. I’ll be okay. However, he hadn't noticed Jungkook sitting down behind him, watching him, staring at him like he was some sort of display piece. It was unsettling and comforting at the same time - he didn’t know why Jungkook was suddenly so insistent on eyeing him down. It didn’t necessarily bother him, it just confused him.

At the same time, part of him didn’t mind the attention.

“As you all know, venue staff have been keeping a close eye on the weather for today. There’s a strong chance of rain before the show will start, so proper measures will be taken to keep the stage dry for everyone’s performances.”

“One of the downsides of an open-top stadium,” Jimin heard Jungkook mutter quietly behind him. “They can’t reschedule the show? Or cancel? How bad is the rain supposed to be?” His voice rose in volume with each question he asked, aiming them across the room.

Sejin shrugged helplessly. “No, they can’t. It’s the end of the year, everything is already planned out. There’s no free space in the schedules for it and you know canceling isn’t an option.” Jimin nodded along, agreeing with him even though it made no sense at all. There were too many people to please - fans and important industry figures alike - that safety was often a second thought. Every idol group and soloist present would have a different schedule; it’d be hell to try and move things around for the sake of one evening. The easiest thing to do would be to just go with the flow and try to manage the situation as best as possible. They would have to put their trust in the venue staff and hope that things would be kept safe and up to par for performances.

“But to answer your other questions, currently it doesn’t look to be too bad. No thunderstorms, just a solid rain right before the opening ceremonies will start. If anything, they’ll probably delay for a bit. I would expect some waiting - we might be there for a while tonight.”

A chorus of groans echoed through the room, Jimin included. He’d been looking forward to his and Jungkook’s time together after, but if they got home too late he would probably just go straight to bed since they had schedules later the next day. Jungkook would understand, he always did.

“We’ll just see how things play out,” Namjoon said. “It doesn’t sound like it will be too bad of a storm.”

“I hope not,” Jimin heard Hoseok respond. “We’ll just have to be careful with the choreography. If the stage is wet, let’s make sure we slow down and be careful where we put our feet. Everyone be aware of each other. We can make it work.”

All the members nodded and verbally agreed. Jin clapped his hands together in finality. “Bangtan can overcome any obstacle! How do you think we got this far?”

His upbeat statement was met with another round of cheerful agreement. Jimin watched as their oldest member ran around the room, getting a high-five out of each of them. Jimin laughed as he came around, enjoying the much needed energy boost after a long practice and Sejin’s announcement.

A bright grin was on Sejin’s face. “Alright, let’s rest for a minute and eat before we head over to the stadium. Let’s see if we can squeeze in a practice round or two on the stage before it starts pouring.” Everyone agreed and slowly began moving in the direction of the doors, most milling around as they stretched and gathered their things. Jimin let his head fall back as he contemplated getting up. He would. Eventually. It would just take a minute.

Ah, I should’ve stretched before I sat down. Everything aches.

He stayed on the floor a couple more minutes, testing how long he could actually put off standing up. The noise level in the room gradually dampened as staff and members left, draining to the point where Jimin wasn’t sure if he was the only one left in the room or not. Just as he was about to open his eyes and find out, a sudden gentle touch on his shoulders snapped him out of his musings.

“Hyung? Are you ready to go?”

Jungkook's familiar voice echoed above his head. Jimin tilted his head back and cracked open an eye. “Impatient much?”

Jungkook’s hands were massaging him now. It felt nice on his tired skin. “No, just hungry. Come on, let’s go.”

Jimin hummed quietly. “I’ll join in a minute. I still need to stretch, my back hurts.”

Jungkook didn’t answer verbally, only sliding his hands down Jimin’s back in a motion that reminded him all too well of their interaction earlier in the morning. He leaned down with the pressure, arms propped up against the hardwood floor. His head suddenly felt fuzzy; the familiar tickling sensation of sparks was licking up his spine. Jungkook’s hands pressed at his lower back, fingers digging into his skin. Jimin couldn’t help but lean into the massage, grunting quietly when Jungkook hit a particularly sore spot.

“You need to take better care of yourself,” Jungkook murmured. “You deserve too, you know.”

Jimin hummed in response, knowing he was right but not wanting to fully acknowledge it. Pain was part of the journey, right? He’d been living with it for years now. The lines between pain and pleasure had blurred long ago - at this point, they were almost the same thing. Jimin couldn’t tell them apart anymore.

Jimin allowed himself to enjoy Jungkook’s impromptu massage for a few minutes longer before he pushed himself upwards, lifting his arms in a stretch that made him shake. Jungkook backed away, hands hesitating as they dragged along his shirt. If Jimin knew any better, he’d sense the reluctance, the unwillingness to let go. Instead he tried to focus on his surroundings, trying to push the whole interaction out of his head. He couldn’t allow himself to fall prey to his temptations. They would only lead to pain - a kind true pain that did not mix with pleasure. A kind of pain that sat in his chest, festering and ever present. The kind that walked hand-in-hand with guilt, with the desire for repentance. That kind of pain sat alone in its own category. It wasn’t easy to understand, it wasn’t easy to share. It was something Jimin had dealt with before, long ago. It definitely wasn’t something he wanted to remember. Especially not at this specific moment.

Jimin stood, shaking out his hair. He bent down at the waist, grabbing his ankles and stretching for a few seconds before deeming it acceptable to stop. After his short cooldown session, he turned around to see Jungkook heading the opposite way, gathering both of their belongings without complaint. Jimin smiled and shook his head, knowing that trying to fight the younger man on carrying his own things would not end with him winning. He’d allow Jungkook this one.

“Ready to go, hyung? Ah, I wonder what they have for us today. I’m hungry. It sounds like it's going to be a long day. Make sure to eat something, okay?”

Humming in response, Jimin just followed him out of the empty practice room. He was too busy thinking to process what Jungkook was saying. This push and pull they had - he both craved and hated it. It fucked with his head, but it was something he couldn’t stop. There was a part of him that secretly loved it, deep down. He tried to lock it away, shove it down with everything else, but he couldn’t help chasing after it. The yearning felt like a rebellion - a quiet fight against his parents and his own inner turmoil. There wasn’t any harm in chasing, as long as he didn’t push too far. He already had once, long ago. The pain he’d paid with was not something worth reliving. Jimin didn’t know if he could fully recover if it ever happened again.

Stay on track. There’s too much to lose. Nothing is worth more than our dream. Focus.

Jungkook guided him along the halls towards the cafeteria, eyeing him in worry. Jimin just smiled back, giving him a quick shoulder squeeze. Everything would be fine.

He just needed to stop thinking and focus.

-- -- -- --

“Stop! Namjoon, you’re too far forward. Don’t move forward until Jin starts his line. And Taehyung, step here. Like this.”

Jimin stepped back with his hands on his hips, holding the golden-colored mic loosely in his right hand. He watched as Hoseok carefully corrected each member’s mistake, genuinely admiring how the older man was able to break down and really understand the choreography. It was a fascinating sight. Frightening, too, if you ever ended up on his bad side.

After a few minutes of correcting, they resumed their previous formation and ran through the routine again. Jimin held his position until the last notes of Fake Love were ringing around the empty stadium, the volume gradually trickling into nothing. When the music stopped, the entire group broke apart, exchanging high fives. They’d practiced this song a thousand times before; probably able to perform it blindfolded now, but a successful runthrough was always something to be celebrated.

“Good work everyone,” Hoseok yelled, clapping. Jungkook whooped in excitement, dancing around behind him. Jimin laughed at him. Maybe it was the meal break they took before being shuttled over here - but everyone seemed to be more energized than they were this morning, no longer slouching over with tiredness. Or maybe it was simply the environment - something about standing on a stage and facing thousands of seats gave Jimin a head rush that couldn’t be replicated. In a way it was intoxicating; he never seemed to get enough of it. It both tired him out and gave him the fire to keep going, going on and on until he could barely stand.

Ah, I can’t wait to perform tonight.

“Okay, Anpanman,” Jin spoke into his own mic, trying to catch everyone’s attention. “Regular choreo up until the bridge, right? Then we all spread out to the platforms?”

Hoseok nodded. “Correct, hyung. Actually, why don’t we all go find our positions? Everything is marked with orange tape. Stand inside the squares.” Jimin skipped over to his designated spot at the end of a short thrust stage, remembering where he’d been when they’d practiced earlier. He stood neatly, interlocked hands holding his microphone patiently. He was positioned near the idol seating area, empty layered benches framed by the thousands of seats behind them. Jimin would never get tired of the view.

The others had also found their spots, all seven spread evenly throughout the stage. Namjoon and Yoongi were the closest, though they were still almost ten feet away. Jimin waved excitedly, receiving an equally energetic response from Taehyung, who was on the opposite end. Laughing, Jimin shot him a finger heart. Taehyung sent back two in response and Jimin almost didn’t notice Jungkook at the very back of the stage, hidden between Taehyung and a few diligent staff members. Something electric shot through Jimin’s heart. He lifted the microphone to his lips, feeling a little… reckless.

“Jungkook-ah,” Jimin said, looking around like he was lost. “Jungkook-ah, where are you?”

“Jimin-ah,” Jungkook responded almost instantly, voice low with amusement. “I’m over here, Jimin-ah.”

Jimin finally met Jungkook’s eyes across the expansive stage, the younger man holding his pointer finger in Jimin’s direction. He understood instantly, mirroring the pose. I am you, you are me. The smile on Jungkook’s face was worth the slight teasing from the other members. They were so engrossed in the moment that Jimin almost missed the countdown from the staff, tuning back in just as they reached three.

Three, two, one.

“And moving!”

The stage shook ever so slightly under Jimin’s feet as the orange-outlined square began to move, rising upwards. Jimin kept still, eyes locked with Jungkook. The younger man’s stare infiltrated his head, filling his chaotic thoughts with something that felt like peace.

“Alright, this is as high as they go. It’s about four feet, so please be careful. Jimin and Jin, watch the pyrotechnics on the edge of the stage. They’ll be used for another group, but be mindful.”

Jimin broke first, tearing himself away to properly listen to the stage manager. He looked down at the pair of small black boxes that sat a couple of feet away from him, mind trailing away as he remembered a stage where they had used fire. It was a cool effect, but not something he’d had a lot of experience with. Jimin looked up as he lost interest, gaze wandering out into the vast expanse in front of him, once again imagining the empty seats filled with screaming and excited fans. The headrush he was going to get from the performance would be intense, the thought of it making him shiver. He looked behind himself to see the others striking various poses, half of them serious and half of them not. Jimin followed suit, one hand on his hip and one in the air. He puffed out his chest and tilted his chin up, getting an oh, cute, from Yoongi in response. Jimin let his eyes drift up, up, up until he was looking at the sky above them. It was dark grey, cloudy, and angry with rain; yet Jimin stared, eyes carefully gazing over every detail until it blurred together and became a muddled mess.

It’s definitely going to rain at some point, Jimin thought to himself. I just hope it's before and not during the show. I don’t want my clothes and makeup to be ruined.

Just the thought of performing in heavy layers of wet stage clothes made him grimace.

Not twenty seconds later, as if the skies could read his mind, raindrops started to fall down, landing quietly on his cheeks. Jimin looked down and shook them off, but to no avail - more followed, landing on his shoulders, his hair, his feet. The upset shouts from the other members flooded the stage as Jimin sat, quickly hopping down and jogging across the stage before the rain really started to fall. The platforms were quickly returned to their original levels as the seven men gathered together, loudly complaining and laughing as they tried to bunch together and fight off the rain. They jostled around as the stage manager told them to leave, shouting at everyone else to cover any important equipment. Jimin ended up sandwiched between Jungkook and Jin as they moved towards the backstage area, quietly listening to their playful bickering. Jimin frowned as the rain still managed to reach them; he held his hands over his head in a pitiful attempt to keep his face dry. His attempt didn’t last long, however, before someone was removing his hands and replacing them with a hat. Jimin looked over at Jungkook, who was now missing his usual bucket hat. They were almost out of the rain now, but Jungkook’s hair didn’t stand a chance, now soaked through as water dripped down the contours of his face. Jimin just ducked his head in appreciation, hoping that the light blush on his cheeks was invisible in the chaos.

It took more effort than it should’ve, but they were finally able to make it backstage and out of the rain. Jimin darted away as soon as Jungkook started to shake his head, knocking the rain off of his hair like a dog. Jin scolded him loudly and smacked him on the arm, their raucous behavior echoing through the halls. Jimin just trailed after their leader, watching as he shook his head in embarrassment. “Will they ever grow up,” Namjoon muttered, no bite behind his words. Jimin laughed. “Hyung and Jungkookie? I don’t think so. Honestly, it’ll probably get worse with time.”

Namjoon didn’t have a chance to reply before Yoongi was coming up behind them and butting in. “And you’re just as bad with Taehyung, Jimin-ah. Don’t deny it.” Jimin scoffed, licking his lips and covering the guilty smile with his hands. Yoongi didn’t do anything else but pat him on the back as he pushed past t/hem, joining Hoseok further up the hallway. Namjoon shot Jimin a look and tossed an arm over his shoulders, bodies knocking together as they walked towards the dressing room. The older man sighed, sounding drained. “Nothing to do now but wait, right? Let’s get some rest and eat before we go on.”

Jimin nodded, looking forward to lounging on a couch for the next couple hours. The exhaustion that dragged at him earlier hadn't left at all, instead hiding away until it could show its ugly facade yet again. He dragged his feet against the tile, his earlier decent mood drying up. Jimin always seemed to be up and down these days, but that's what being busy did to him. Everything else that he deemed ‘unimportant’ was shoved away until he had a spare moment to deal with it. Sometimes, it never was. But that was fine. Life didn’t stop, so he had to keep moving.

“I think I’ll try to take a nap,” he muttered, half to himself. The subtle heat from Namjoon’s body was making his eyes droop; just slightly.

“Good luck,” Namjoon sighed back. “Maybe they’ll quiet down if you ask nicely enough.”

They will, Jimin thought. Jungkook will understand.

“Just make sure to eat something beforehand, too. It’ll be good for you. Give you some energy.”

Jimin just hummed. He would eventually. Like everything else he shoved away, it would be taken care of when he had the chance. The time. The motivation.

Right now, he just wanted a minute to himself.

-- -- -- --

The waiting always ate away at Jimin’s patience.

They’ve been through this same routine time and time again, but the waiting never got any easier. While he did enjoy the downtime - it gave him a chance to relax and for his racing mind to try and catch up with itself - but it also put him on edge. From the second they crossed that invisible line between rehearsal and live show, Jimin was on alert. From those first steps onto the red carpet to the final heaving breaths in a stage performance, Jimin was normally so keyed up that the comedown was a rough up and down battle. Sometimes it took hours, anxiety and adrenaline bleeding into the early hours of the following morning. If they didn’t do a livestream for the fans after, he usually ended up curled in bed, fingers gripping at the sheets and eyes focused on the nearest wall as his mind ran back through his entire performance. Remembering, analyzing, criticizing. Hoping and praying that someone might come tear him out of the endless ocean that was his head. Most of the time, no one came. He understood, they were all normally exhausted to the ends of the earth after. But he yearned for it all the same. Hoping that the next time his phone lit up, it would be one of the members and not anyone else. Not management, not the fans, and definitely not his parents. He couldn’t bring himself to answer anyone but the six other men. They were all he had.

But occasionally, someone would reach out. That someone being Jeon Jungkook. It usually started with a simple room number? text that Jimin always answered right away. He’d been checking in more recently, something that Jimin found odd but secretly treasured. Jungkook usually made his way over quickly and Jimin let him in just as easily, both men stumbling and collapsing onto the bed. Most nights, Jimin ended up wrapped in the younger man’s arms, Jungkook’s hands carding through his hair as he tried not to feel guilty about the fact that it genuinely made him feel better. He tried to ignore the thoughts his brain was throwing at him, screaming that he was just using him, or that it shouldn’t feel so good to have another body so hard and angular pressed up against him. Jungkook was his best friend, his teammate. His fellow band member, his younger brother. He was helping Jimin in a moment of need. Nothing more.

He didn’t have to tell anyone that a part of him was secretly craving it.

Maybe - maybe he’ll text tonight, Jimin thought from the corner he’d taken up residence in. Or - no. No, I need to stop expecting these things. Jungkook gets tired too. I should leave him alone. I don’t want to bother him. I need to stop using him. He’s probably tired of me by now. Jimin took a deep breath, rubbing a hand over his face as the thoughts started to swirl. His feet tapped at the floor, each one on a different beat. His fingers rubbed at the fabric of his pants as he forced himself not to bite at them. He was antsy. How long had they been here? The stagnation was eating away at him and his nerves were spiking higher and higher. I need to do something.

Jimin shoved himself up and began to pace the room, weakly trying to occupy his mind. He was too unfocused to mindlessly stare at his phone. The rest of the members sat lazily, most sprawled out on any available surface. Yoongi and Taehyung were passed out on the couch; Namjoon was flipping through a thick sheaf of papers. Hoseok and Jin were on opposite ends of the room, earbuds in and occupied with whatever was on their phones. Jimin didn’t even notice Jungkook until he was passing him for the second time, almost tripping over a leg he’d tossed out. Jungkook immediately dropped his phone and held his hands out, catching Jimin as he stumbled.

“Sorry, hyung,” Jungkook mumbled from his spot on the floor. “I didn’t mean to trip you. Are you okay?”

Jimin nodded and threw him a tight smile. “I’m okay. Just ready to go. I’m tired of waiting.”

Jungkook sighed. “Me too. Apparently it rained harder than expected. Sejin said he would keep us updated.”

“Great,” Jimin groaned. Jungkook’s hands were still holding his, fingers brushing his knuckles in a way that made Jimin’s skin tingle a little too strongly. Jimin sucked in a quiet breath, forcing himself to pull away. He really needed to stop using Jungkook to make himself feel better. But why does it always work so well?

“I’ll let you get back to your game, Jungkook-ah,” Jimin said as he turned around. “Sorry to run into you like that.”

“It’s okay, hyung,” Jungkook called after him, but Jimin was already pacing away again.

I need to get control of myself. Leave Jungkook alone. I just want to go. When can we stop waiting? I need to move. When can we start getting ready? Has the rain stopped? Can we still perform? Lets go, lets go, lets go.

Waiting, waiting, waiting. Jimin felt like he was stuck in a loop, unable to get out. He continued to alternate between pacing and sitting by himself until their team called them to start getting ready. The rush of relief almost knocked him off his feet as he stumbled over to his designated makeup chair and stared at himself in the mirror. Finally. Things were moving, gears slowly jerking into motion. The impatience that had plagued him for hours started to peel away with every passing minute as the world sped up around him. He barely paid attention to the makeup brush that swept across his cheeks, the shadow that was applied to his eyelids, or the stain that was gently brushed onto his lips. Jimin moved from one chair to the next, letting them style his hair and barely flinching when his outfit for the red carpet was handed to him. It was a simple deep blue suit with a few stylistic changes; the cut looked good on him. He smoothed his hands over the lapels, pausing briefly when one of the stylists tapped him on the shoulder and handed him various pieces of jewelry. Simple hoop earrings, a few rings, and a delicate-looking golden pin that Jimin wasn’t sure where to put. He set it down, legs crossed and head tilted to the side as he slid the earrings on. Completely engrossed in his task, Jimin almost didn’t notice Jungkook coming up behind him until the younger man’s hands were gently and playfully patting at his acutely-styled blonde hair. Jimin felt his eyes automatically flick upwards and catch Jungkook’s gaze in the mirror; the bustling scene around them fading as the seconds went by with neither man looking away. Jimin started to play with the rings around his fingers, feeling divided. Jungkook’s clingy nature wasn’t something new - the members loved to indulge him, Jimin included, but something felt different about today. Jungkook had been watching him all day and Jimin couldn’t place the feeling it gave him, but the small lick of excitement he felt scared him.

He’s my friend. My bandmate. I need to stop. It’s wrong. Don’t be selfish.

Jungkook broke their staring contest in the mirror, eyes sliding over Jimin’s shoulder to look at the pin laid on the counter. “That’s pretty,” he murmured, stepping around Jimin to pick it up. Jimin noticed that he was wearing something similarly simple, a black suit set with the top few buttons undone to show a tan turtleneck underneath. Dangling silver earrings framed his face. “The stylists should have you wear these things more often. It suits you.”

Not a single word made it out of Jimin’s mouth, the few he had drying on his tongue. His hands dropped to tap anxiously at his knees as he silently watched Jungkook lean forward, deft fingers quickly pinning the jewelry to his right lapel. Jimin couldn’t help but glance down; the younger man’s furrowed brow and parted lips the picture of concentration. His black hair looked temptingly soft and Jimin had half a mind to run his fingers through it, styling be damned. Jimin quickly cut that train of thought, frozen as Jungkook adjusted the angle of the pin and placed one end further up. Jungkook’s fingers then drifted up to his collar and tugged as if he were fixing that too and Jimin’s shallow breath caught in his throat. He attempted to distract himself as Jungkook stood back up, focusing on the jewelry now sitting on his lapel. The small golden piece stood out against the dark blue of his suit - two golden ornamental buttons connected by three thin, dangling chains. Jimin admired it, gently brushing the chains with his fingertips. Jimin managed to force out a quiet thank you, hesitantly looking up at the man in front of him.

God, the way Jungkook looked at him caused him to spiral. He hated the way he craved the attention. Specifically, Jungkook’s attention. He shouldn’t crave it. He shouldn’t even think about it. It wasn’t supposed to be something he couldn’t stop thinking about. Time after time, he told himself to quit. To ignore him, to shove down every single thought that plagued his head, tainting the version of Jungkook Jimin kept to himself. Yet every attempt was a failure and Jimin broke each time, letting himself continue to yearn for something that would never come.

Jungkook opened his mouth but he didn’t get a chance to respond before staff members were shouting their names, shattering the walls that had formed between them and the rest of the room. Jimin took his chance, quickly vacating the chair and walking away as fast as possible. He tried to forget about what had just happened and get his head focused - they had a long night ahead of them, but Jungkook’s burning gaze tracked him through the room, Jimin’s shoulders falling under the weight of it. He’d probably hurt Jungkook with his hasty exit but Jimin didn’t know what he would do if he had stayed. He tried to comfort himself, sure that the inevitable painful emotional aftermath wouldn’t be worth whatever he could have done. Jimin navigated through the busy room until he found Taehyung and Hoseok, squishing himself in between them. He fell into easy conversation with the two of them, trying to push Jungkook to the back of his mind.

Not worth it, he chanted in his head as the rest of the members joined up around them. The staff started to form them into a line, herding them towards the door. Let it go. Focus. I need to focus.

Jimin straightened his shoulders, absentmindedly playing with the chains on his pin. He knew Jungkook was behind him - his gaze was searing into the back of his head - but Jimin didn’t turn around as they started to make their way out of the dressing rooms. He shoved down the waves of guilt, of longing, and disgust - disgust with himself. I'll deal with it later, he told himself. He refused to think about what would happen during their late-night after show dinner. There was a fifty-fifty chance of Jungkook either bringing it up or ignoring it entirely, and Jimin didn’t know what he’d say either way. Maybe he'll be too tired. Maybe I can ask for a raincheck. He always understands.

The closer they got to the main hallways, the busier it got. The noise in Jimin’s head simmered down to a dull hum as he transitioned into his performance headspace. The anxiety and need for movement started to spark up yet again and he allowed himself to get lost in the feeling, senses sharpening as he prepared himself for the onslaught of screaming fans and blinding camera flashes. His bone-deep exhaustion from earlier, however, could not be entirely swallowed. Its presence stubbornly licked at his muscles and joints, clouding heavy behind his eyes. Jimin pressed his lips together and forced his feet to keep moving, one step at a time, bringing him closer and closer to finality.

One more show. One more show.

Then I can rest.

-- -- -- --

Jimin had, surprisingly, been able to keep himself away from Jungkook quite easily.

(Or Jungkook was keeping himself away. Maybe he sensed that Jimin needed space, since he seemed to reach inside his heart and head so easily.)

Regardless, Jimin chose to believe that he was doing a decent job of keeping up appearances. The fans were happy to see them, all seven members beaming smiles as they faced the multitudes of cameras. Jimin had put himself at the end of the line next to Taehyung; a quick glance to his right revealed that Jungkook had bookmarked the other end, laughing as he stared up at Yoongi. Jimin didn’t let himself linger too long before the cameras distracted him again, careful to not let any adverse emotions show on his face. The last thing he needed was a scandal over something as trivial as facial expressions.

(Or for the fans to overanalyze how he barely contained the urge to side-eye Jungkook the whole time.)

Jimin tried to lose himself in the chaos that surrounded and followed them as they were guided from one spot to the next. The backstage area was quieter yet equally as busy, staff and idols alike rushing around. The roar from the fans on the other side of the stage filtered through the halls, rumbling under their feet. A rush of adrenaline tore through Jimin and he grinned almost manically as he grabbed onto Namjoon’s arm and squeezed. “I’m so fucking ready, hyung.”

“Oh, Jimin-ah’s excited,” Hoseok chimed in from behind. “It’ll be a good show now.”

Jimin couldn't help but agree. His emotions always ran haywire before a show, spreading through the rest of the group like wildfire. Hoseok knew how to hype them up during practice - but Jimin was usually the energized one backstage. They'd been at this for years now, it was their damn job, but Jimin hadn't discovered anything else that could even hold a candle to the way performing made him feel. The roar of the crowd, the way the stage shook beneath his feet, the elation that filled his head when he poured his heart into every single note that came out of his mouth. Jimin's devotion to the stage poured through his body, drowning his mind in clarity.

The only thing running through his head now was how good he would feel on stage. Whirling around under the lights as their beams beat down on his body, beads of sweat dripping down his nose. His steps sure and sharp from hours of repetition, voice filling the arena as thousands of eyes were locked onto him. Only him.

Fuck, it was almost like a drug. Jimin craved it like he wouldn't live to see the next day.

Jungkook and Jimin ended up bookending their line as they filed into the seating area, shooting each other quick glances before looking away again. Part of Jimin wanted to sit next to Jungkook - but he honestly wasn’t sure if he could focus if he did. So Jimin pushed Jungkook out of his mind as best as he could, trying to remain in his performance headspace. The announcers were about to start speaking anyway. He had a job to do. Expectations to fulfill.

The show started like all the others they've been to - slowly with long periods of talking. Jimin was good at zoning out at the sections that uninterested him, only focusing back in whenever a camera panned their way. Working the crowd was another one of Jimin's specialties, enjoying the reaction he received whenever he beamed at the camera lens, waving and throwing up various heart signs. He even leaned into the closest member a few times, throwing an arm around Jin’s shoulder while he roped him into entertaining the fans. It was easy with everyone else. So why does Jungkookie make me feel any different?

(Maybe he was just overthinking).

Jimin watched the awards show fly by, clapping politely for the winners and internally examining each idol that stepped onto the stage. He couldn’t help it, his body was tense with adrenaline that only continued to build the longer he sat. It wasn’t a secret that he was hyper critical of his own self, especially when it came to performing. Live or not, he was always watching, critiquing, physically aching to do better than the last take. It was second nature to him by now. Hoseok usually did the same - Jimin shot a look down the line and saw the furrowed brow, head nodding with the beat of whatever song was currently playing. His eyes tracked each movement expertly, hands clasped around his crossed knees. Hoseok was looking for execution - but Jimin was looking for perfection. It wasn’t something he saw often in anyone but himself. Maybe he was just being vain, projecting too harshly onto people he hardly knew, but he couldn’t help it. It was a state of mind he naturally fell into, digging himself deeper every time.

“Jimin-ah! Stand up, we have to go.”

Jin’s sudden shout and brief shove jerked him out of his reverie. Somewhere along the way he had gotten lost yet again in his own head, the exhaustion from this morning still lingering in the deeper depths of his body. Jimin quickly bowed his head in apology before leading the group out of the seating area and down the stairs, shrugging off his suit jacket as soon as they reached the backstage hallways. Their outfits were simple - flowy white tops and plain black pants that Jimin couldn’t help but notice how good they fit on him. The loose fabric of the shirt gathered around his shoulders, ruffling gently as he spun around.

He usually felt his best right before a show. Tonight was not an exception. He could push down the fatigue, weariness, the weakness that constantly licked at his being. It would have to wait. He had a job to do. Jimin kept repeating it like a mantra in his head as he let the makeup artists doll him up, sinking further and further into the rising adrenaline.

If he got deep enough, nothing would touch him until he found the strength to drag himself out.

Jimin felt like he was floating as staff and members alike rushed around him, everyone scrambling to get ready in time to make it to the stage. Namjoon was practically yelling across the room about their microphones at Yoongi, who responded back in an equally loud tone. Hoseok was running through the choreography in the corner with Taehyung and Jin was singing the chorus of Fake Love by the door, pacing in small circles. Jungkook was either hiding somewhere in the chaos or out of the room completely; Jimin could not find him. There was barely a moment to process that information before he was being tugged across the room, slightly disoriented but following silently anyway. He blinked and suddenly they were standing right next to the stage, all seven men huddled in a tight circle. Hands were laid over his shoulders, fingers grasping at fabric. The bouncing echo of the MC’s voice was the only thing he could register at first, loudly ringing through his head until he managed to tune it out and find Namjoon’s quieter tone. He was shouting, trying to fight against the rest of the surrounding clamor. Jimin felt like he was manually heaving air in and out of his lungs as they shuffled even closer together.

“Okay, listen to me! It looks like the venue staff have been doing a decent job at keeping the stage dry, but there still might be slick spots. That storm was heavy and it’s been slightly drizzling, so let's be careful. Especially for Anpanman.”

“Keep the choreography tight and controlled.” Hoseok broke in. Jimin’s head snapped over in his direction. “Let’s focus more on upper body movement than footwork. We polished it up pretty well earlier. Stay balanced and if you notice anything hazardous, let the others know.”

“Exactly. Eyes open and stay focused. Try to interact with the crowd when we split up. Keep the energy up.” Namjoon paused to look up at all of them, eyes lingering for a split second longer when he reached Jimin. “I know we’ve been extremely busy recently. There’s been a lot going on, but after these two songs it will get a little easier. We’ve got a short break coming up, but that gives us an even better reason to give it our all tonight. Just another hour here - once they finish with the firework show, we can head home. Let’s remind them what we’re made of, yeah?”

The hands on Jimin’s shoulders tightened as the roar of the fans started to get louder, the MC finished talking as the seconds started to tick down. He wasn’t sure who started it but they all started to hop in place, energy spiking between them as the adrenaline rose. The roar in Jimin’s head gradually faded to a low buzz as he fell into the excitement of what was to come, all traces of pain and exhaustion pushed under until he couldn’t feel them anymore.

All he felt was a thrill in his bones. It was so strong he could barely contain himself.

Staff were handing them their mics. His in-ears were no longer dangling around his neck. They were all grinning, chanting together as they broke apart to form a line. Jimin felt himself shaking in preparation, zoning in on the back of Taehyung’s head. His fingers twitched around his microphone, blazing heat like flames crackling from the soles of his feet to the roots of his hair. He couldn't stand still. The wait was going to kill him.

I need to be on stage. I need to sing. I need to perform. I need to show them what I am capable of. I need to show them how good I am. I need to be out there.

Jimin tilted his head up in a deep, shuddering breath.

I’ve perfected the steps. I’ve perfected the notes. I will show them.

The back of his neck prickled the second before a hand slid around it, gently squeezing. Jimin glanced behind to see Jungkook staring at him in a way that almost rivaled the intensity of the thoughts running through his head. He managed to respond with a small smile, hoping it came off as encouraging and not partially deranged. Jungkook nodded back, eyes gleaming with exhilaration.

“Fighting,” Jungkook mouthed. Jimin huffed amusedly to himself and turned back around, fists clenching tightly as more sparks warmed through his ruffled top, soaking through his skin and dripping down into his chest. It didn’t help the burning heat inside him, temperature rising higher until it became nearly unbearable. Jimin felt like he was going to go insane if he didn't start moving in the next five seconds, but luck must've been on his side - staff had started to yell at them, waving them onto the stage. Almost tripping over himself in anticipation, Jimin fumbled for the first few steps before he found his feet, striding confidently with the rest of his group. They found their positions easily and Jimin took a second to look around. Spots of light littered the darkened space around them as fans waved their lightsticks impatiently. The crowd was relatively quiet now, but Jimin knew that in less than a minute the entire stadium would be lighting up with screams of their own names. Bangtan had been on a massive rise, storming their way through the charts with a dominance that derailed everyone else around them.

I’ll show them. We’ll show them. They won’t be able to stop us. All they can do is sit back and watch. I’ve never let them down before. It won’t start today.

As the first notes of Fake Love started to ring out around them, Jimin felt a wave of adrenaline so intense it shut his brain down, submerging him into the headspace he craved to perform in. He felt his body start to move with the music as muscle memory took over, hours and hours of practice sharpening his steps into nothing less than perfection. Jimin didn’t allow himself to present anything else.

Watch me.

-- -- -- --

There wasn’t a single experience in the world that came close to the way dominating a stage felt. Performances were always an overwhelming assault on his physical and mental being, especially when their schedules were packed, but Jimin had learned to enjoy it - desire it.

Bass thrumming through his feet, a metronome clicking in his ear. Muffled screaming, chanting. His own voice echoing back to him. Gazing into the joyous, strained faces of the other members. Smiling through the pain, through the fatigue. The aches that constantly pulled at his joints. Staring out into the sea of lights, unable to fathom the fact that thousands of people were staring back at him. Getting lost in the idea that he actually meant something to each one of them.

Jimin's chest heaved as he locked his body into place, frozen as the final notes of Fake Love faded. The lights dimmed around them, plunging the arena into darkness as the fans screamed and waved their lightsticks. Jimin felt his lips quirk up into an involuntary smile at their reaction. Another successful performance. The stage is still a little wet, but it’s not unbearable. I just need to watch for any puddles and stay steady with my steps. But they loved it; why wouldn’t they? That’s all that matters. Just one more song.

One more song.

After a moment longer they separated, falling easily into the positions for Anpanman. The composed mask on Jimin’s face faltered as he could feel his body start to shake - the heady mix of exhaustion and adrenaline clashing violently inside of him. He’d been able to keep it together up until now and they only had one more song to perform; he had to hold it together. He wasn’t going to let a single moment of weakness show in front of the cameras; the last thing he wanted was for people to worry about him, gossiping about how tired he looked, how he could barely hold himself together. How he should be resting somewhere instead of flying around on stage, where he was truly meant to be.

Keep it together. Prove it to them. One more song.

The bright, upbeat instrumental of Anpanman started to blast through the stadium at the same time Jimin’s body started to move on its own, muscle memory kicking in as his head struggled to catch up. He recognized Taehyung’s voice, then Hoseok's, simply letting himself float in the sea of lines and verses he’d heard a thousand times over. When it came to his lines, Jimin scraped together all the energy he had, making sure he could be heard. Seen. Noticed. He was tired, oh so tired, but he couldn’t physically allow himself to give less than his all. The audience had expectations. His members, his company, his fans, his family all had expectations. He had expectations. Falling short meant regret. Disappointment. Hours and hours of being locked inside his own head - forcing himself to run through the routines until his muscles screamed at him to stop, feet rubbed raw from the constant movement on the floor. Jimin often found his way home in the early hours of the morning, voice cracking from the constant strain of repeating his lines over and over again.

The constant pressure had taken years to get used to, but in the end it always paid off. Some nights Jimin could physically feel himself cracking and breaking down underneath the pressure; his fingers gripping the sheets as his breath came in short, broken gasps - fruitless attempts to keep himself from falling apart. But by some miracle, when morning came, he was always able to stitch himself back together, dragging his weakened self out of bed to put himself through the same cycle yet again. It never changed. It hurt. But it worked.

Jimin zoned back in as the instrumental started to inch towards the bridge of the song, reminding himself that this is where they diverted from the usual choreography. The beat thrummed as Jimin easily sang his lines, glancing quickly over his shoulder to meet eyes with Hoseok, who gave him an encouraging wink in response. Jimin couldn’t help but smile, shoving a clenched fist into the air as he prepared to let Jungkook take center stage. His feet moved easily to the bouncing melody as he floated across the stage to his pre-designated spot, feet planted firmly on the rain-speckled floor as he waited for the platform to rise. There was just under a minute left in the song; he could hold on. Just one more minute, and then he could let go.

His physical exhaustion. The cracks in his mental state. The weakness in his knees. The barely hidden strain in his voice. In just one minute, he could let it all go.

I can finally rest.

The sudden jerk of the platform rising reminded Jimin that he still had to focus. He was still on stage in front of thousands of people - he couldn’t allow himself to slip. Stay in the moment. It’s almost over.

Fresh waves of excited screams rolled through the stadium as Jimin rose upwards. He almost let a bark of laughter escape his lips, barely able to contain his enthusiasm at the crowd’s reactions. The screams, the chanting, the pure thrill of being on stage. This is what I live for.

Jimin continued to follow along with the song through his in-ears, lifting the microphone to his mouth to harmonize with whoever was currently singing.The surrounding chaos filled his head, overloading his senses with adrenaline.

The other idols, sitting nearby. Watching with eager smiles, hands clapping along to the beat. A few of them were chattering amongst themselves, copying Jimin’s poses to each other.

The other members, spread out behind him. Each working the crowd in their own way, separate but still connected. Their voices flowed together seamlessly, like it was always meant to be.

Jungkook, unseen behind him. Yet his presence shone brighter than the sun, resonating across the stage and occupying a small space in Jimin’s head that he dared to show no one but himself.

The fans, surrounding them like the way the moon orbited Earth. Screaming, moving, acting together in sync - yet each person was different. Each set of eyes were distinctly individual - but they all saw the same Jimin.

They bore down on him like he was the center of it all. The singularity at the end of everything.

He saw them all; together but separate. Each and every person, present tonight for the same thing. Him.

Jimin felt sparks shoot through his body, unable to contain his excitement. He spun around tightly on the small platform, itching to let out the sudden wave of energy. It was all too much, yet not enough at the same time. Jimin turned to face the fans near the idol area again, leaning forward to focus his attention on them and watching as their smiles grew even wider in response. Anpanman was ending, he could hear the ending notes start to filter through, so Jimin decided to make the most of the little time left, leaning over even further as he posed, lifting the microphone to his mouth again to finish off the song. He winked and pressed his free hand to his face, fingers forming a V that split around his eye. The fans shouted, lightsticks waving eagerly. Jimin’s heart surged at their reaction and a laugh bubbled up through his chest, uncontrollable waves of emotions crashing over him like an endless tsunami. His toes were close to the edge of the platform now, nearly hanging off as he strained to get closer. Everything was whirring around him, sounds and sights clashing harshly. Jimin couldn’t contain himself any longer.

“ARMY!” Jimin shouted, the word loud and drawn out.

“ARMY, I LOVE -”

But Jimin didn’t even get the chance to finish his sentence. He didn’t even hear the very last moments of the song before there was a loud crack directly in front of him, followed by an overwhelming rush of air, heat and pure agony that quickly swallowed his upper body, senses choked out by the sudden onslaught of something unknown that forced everything around him to come to a sudden, screeching halt.

The world started to spin and fracture uncontrollably around Jimin, throwing him off balance so abruptly that he had no time to even wonder what had happened. He didn’t feel himself stumble back, knees buckling like a puppet cut from its strings. He didn’t feel himself let go of the microphone, he didn’t feel himself start to fall backwards. He didn’t feel his body as it hit the stage, head rolling around like a ragdoll.

The only thing he felt was an excruciating pain that swallowed him whole. Jimin heard himself groan once before he was unable to hold on any longer, succumbing to the dark waves of misery.

** -- ** -- ** -- ** -- **

Jungkook was thoroughly enjoying every second of their performance.

The darker, brooding tone of Fake Love and the bouncing, catchy melodies Anpanman clashed yet somehow found a way to weave together, giving the group a chance to showcase different sides of themselves in the same breath. It was almost like flipping a coin, each side equally as magnetizing as the other.

The fans seemed to agree, if their non-stop cheering was anything to go by. His part in Anpanman was coming up shortly; he was on the right at the very back of their formation with Jin and Taehyung on his left. Jungkook was focused - focused on the choreography, his lines, and trying to avoid the wet spots on the stage - but his mind kept drifting over to the man that was currently front and center, light blonde hair glowing underneath the harsh stage lights.

Park Jimin.

There was something about Jimin that made Jungkook never want to look away from him.

Especially when he hit the stage.

His presence became something magnetic, something that made your head turn. He could command the attention of thousands of people like it was nothing, controlling massive crowds through nothing but a few words from his lips. Each step he took, each note he sang, came to him so naturally that all his performances looked effortless. Jimin’s eyes always sparked with passion like a live wire, leaving Jungkook unable to do anything else but watch in barely-concealed awe anytime Jimin performed. Jungkook was not afraid to say that Jimin was one of the most beautiful people he’d met, inside and out. He had been born for the stage.

But Jungkook also saw how much it took out of him.

How he snuck home in the early hours of the morning, feet dragging along the floor as he stumbled into his room. How he normally shut himself away after concerts, refusing to meet up with any of the other members or let them come to his room. How quiet he became after, chest heaving and eyes partially glossed over as he tried to come back down from the intense headspace performing put him in. How critical he was of himself, often quick to anger over the littlest mistakes. Like he wasn’t allowing himself to be anything less than perfect.

Jungkook wished he could reassure Jimin, wished that he could tell him that he wasn’t going anywhere if things didn’t turn out right. He wished he could help Jimin put more trust in himself, that he didn’t have to push himself so hard. But Jimin was stubborn, especially when he got into the same thought cycles in his head, and it was often hard to pull him back out. If Jimin had made a mistake on stage, sometimes it took days, weeks, or months of himself and the other members trying to convince him that he was still worth something in the group. That he still deserved to take care of himself. Jungkook hated that version of Jimin the most, because he always pushed people away. He isolated himself like he was afraid of them.

But sometimes, he let Jungkook in.

Jungkook was never sure why, but Jimin always did it after an especially exhausting concert. At first, he came to Jungkook directly, way too late in the night with a look in his eye that made Jungkook’s heart twist with something confusing. Afterwards Jungkook had started to text him a simple room number?, giving him no room to argue. He wanted to know Jimin didn’t have to be alone. That he was someone he could share his burdens with. They never spoke, but the energy that crackled between them carried more than a thousand words. The touches they shared felt completely different than the planned ones passed around in front of the cameras or on stage. Those were fleeting, playful, and practiced; something that Jungkook didn’t put too much thought behind because it was just something fun for the fans. Part of his job. Yet, each time, when Jungkook knocked on Jimin’s door, the look on Jimin’s face would pull at his heart in need. A need to help him, to comfort him. Jimin, exhausted, would collapse into him, seeking a deeper sort of touch.

Hands in his hair, on his face. Brushing down his arms and back, the touch feather light, like Jimin was fake - like he might disappear if he pressed any harder.

Supporting Jimin with his body as they stumbled through Jimin’s hotel room. The older man falling limp into his body, face pressed firmly into the hollow of his throat as his hand came to rest on the back of Jimin’s neck.

Jimin, crying over a minute mistake while curled into Jungkook’s embrace. Jungkook, hesitantly brushing his lips over Jimin’s forehead, then cheeks. Salty tears being wiped away with a careful touch. Quiet, comforting whispers that couldn’t get past the buzz in Jimin’s head.

Jungkook, staring across at Jimin as they sat on Jungkook’s balcony, the hazy lights of Seoul giving Jimin an almost ethereal glow. A lump forming in Jungkook’s throat as he took Jimin in, silently craving the way Jimin was watching him. Wishing that they could stay in this moment for a while.

But time always moved on, and Jimin always left as quietly as he came. He never acknowledged their time afterwards either, simply moving on like it never happened. It didn’t bother Jungkook at first, but as it happened time and time again, a part of him yearned to reach out. He wanted to ask Jimin about it, why him specifically, but if he did manage to corner the older man about it, Jimin always deflected, always made excuses. He seemed to panic, desperate for an escape, so Jungkook caved and let him go every time. He didn’t want to freak him out. He just wanted a true answer.

So Jungkook let Jimin pull him back in every time.

Now, as Jungkook moved to the center of the dance formation, his eyes followed Jimin, carefully watching for any weariness or fatigue. It had been easy to spot backstage - Jimin’s slower movements, how he had tripped over him in the waiting room. The sagging of his shoulders as they lined up backstage, moments before their performance. But whenever Jimin got in front of a crowd, he seemed to throw up an impenetrable mask of perfection. Something so carefully curated that it seemed like there was no way to see around it. Sometimes it was so different, it felt like looking at a different person.

As expected, Jimin looked as lively as ever - each step perfectly calculated, each note perfectly sung. He grinned out at the audience, eyes wide with a sort of wonder you could only notice up close. If anything was still bothering him, he’d clearly locked it away deeply inside of him, ready to dig up later that night. Jungkook briefly wondered if he’d act any sort of way tonight, when they planned to meet on his balcony, but he quickly buried those thoughts under the thick cover of professionalism, too focused on putting on a show for the fans. He sang brightly as he moved towards his designated spot further back on the stage, body following the bumping beat. The fans screamed as the platforms started to rise, each member playfully posing. Jungkook’s eyes drifted to Jimin again, briefly, before he turned away to focus on the crowd. Jungkook used to get terribly nervous; there were so many people, each one focused directly on them, but over time he learned to build a different side of himself, one that wasn’t afraid of performing on a huge stage in front of crowds of people, with cameras blinding him nonstop. It’d been a lot to get used to, especially at the young age of fifteen, but it came second nature to him now. A part of him now loved the attention, it wasn’t something that you could replicate.

Jungkook recognized the final ending notes of Anpanman as they played out, focusing on interacting with the fans for as long as he possibly could. His back was still facing the members as he flexed his arms, harmonizing for the fun of it.

“ARMY!”

Jimin’s voice, loud through the mic, suddenly rang out around them. Jungkook couldn’t help but smile as the fans responded back eagerly.

When he finishes speaking, I’ll go after.

“ARMY! I LOVE -”

A sharp crack broke through Jimin’s exhilarated yelling, cutting him off immediately. Jungkook frowned briefly, confusion leaking into his smile. Suddenly Jimin was quiet, too quiet. The elated faces in front of him started to turn into surprise, then shock, then something like horror. They started to yell at him, pointing behind him. Jungkook frowned, a small tremor of anxiety running through his body. His arms fell down to his sides as he turned around, unsure of what was causing the fans to change their act so quickly.

Huh? What the hell was that noise? And why do they keep pointing -

Jungkook’s eyes went wide, feeling like the floor had been yanked out from under him as he finally took in the shocking scene happening at the other end of the stage. His vision narrowed down until the only thing he could see was Jimin.

Jimin was stumbling violently, his steps heavy and erratic like he wasn’t sure where he was. His knees were buckling like he couldn’t bear to hold himself up any longer, each step bringing him closer and closer to the platform’s edge. He was backing up at an alarming rate, heels already hanging off the edge.

Time slowed to a crawl. Jungkook only froze for a second before he was throwing himself off of his own platform and sprinting in Jimin’s direction, only wanting to reach the other man before he fell and hit the floor.

Jungkook barely registered the other members as he flew past them. Jimin was still stumbling dangerously, limbs jerking around like a puppet cut from its strings.

Jungkook kept running. The stage felt impossibly large; how was he still so far away? Adrenaline shot through his feet like a live wire as he forced himself to move faster. Jimin was moving, backing up, heels hanging off of the platform.

I have to reach him. I have catch him.

He still had no idea what had happened. He hadn't been looking. Guilt gnawed at his heart. Of course, the one time he hadn't been looking at Jimin - the one time he hadn't been watching him - something had to happen.

Jungkook was never going to take his eyes off Jimin again.

Hold on just a little bit longer. I’m almost there.

But suddenly, Jimin was slipping. His feet were tangling beneath him and he was slipping backwards, body heading towards the ground at a speed that made Jungkook’s heart thump wildly. He pushed himself to move faster, the horrified screams of the crowd drowning beneath the need to reach Jimin before he hit the floor. His breath came in short gasps, dread flowing like a wave down his spine.

There’s still time. Just hold on. I’ll be right there.

Jungkook was getting closer. He was almost there. His purple microphone, long forgotten in his hand, hit the stage with a loud whine as he outstretched his hands in preparation to catch Jimin. Just one more step, and he would be there. One more step, and he could prevent something possibly irreversible.

Jungkook was right in front of him now.

His hands were stretched out, ready to catch Jimin. Jungkook fell to his knees, sliding the rest of the way as Jimin suddenly hit the stage, head cracking loudly as it bounced off of the solid surface. His arms flew upwards, locking in place as his fingers tangled with his hair, Jungkook finally coming to a stop by his side. Jimin’s eyes were screwed shut, pain written all over his expression. Jungkook collapsed next to him, the chill of his rain soaked pants ignored over the horrifying scene in front of him.

It was like something out of a far-fetched nightmare, the way that Jimin’s face was thickly coated with blood. His blood. Jungkook’s eyes were wide with disbelief, unable to control the sharp, panicked breaths tearing out of his throat. His hands, hovering uncertainly over Jimin’s shoulders, shook violently.

“Jimin? Jimin-ah, open your eyes. Jimin-ah, can you hear me?”

What the fuck happened? How did -

Jungkook’s thoughts cut themselves short as Jimin groaned underneath him, the sound overflowing with pain. His eyes shot to Jimin’s face as he finally calmed his racing thoughts enough to fully take in the scene in front of him.

Jimin’s blonde hair, once fluffy and smooth, was now a sickening shade of pink; blood soaking through each broken strand until it dripped down to the floor below. A deep laceration the size of Jungkook’s hands now marred the right side of his head, starting at the edge of his hairline above his eyebrow and carving a path up the side of his skull. A steady stream of blood leaked from the ripped edges, rolling like floodwaters down the smooth planes of his face. Jimin’s nose was crooked and slightly off-center; Jungkook didn’t have to think too hard to understand that it was broken. His lower lip, trembling with pain, was split right down the middle. Various other small cuts littered his face, blood pooling from each one. Jungkook’s hovering hands came down to rest ever so gently on Jimin’s face, wiping at some of the blood in shock. The older man didn’t move. His breath came in short, ragged gasps; eyes screwed shut in pain.

What happened? What caused this? I don’t know what to do. I need to help him. He needs me. How do I help him? Is he going to die?

The last thought was like a shock of cold water to Jungkook’s already overloaded brain. Die? Jimin can’t die. He can’t.

“Hyung. Hyung. Jimin-hyung, open your eyes. Please.”

Jimin didn’t answer him back and Jungkook’s breath started to quicken as panic swelled inside him, muscles jerking his body into motion as he tugged at the front of his dress shirt manically, untucking it and ripping it off and over his head. The hot stage lights burned down on his exposed arms and thin undershirt but Jungkook was blind to everything but Jimin. He gently untangled Jimin’s right hand from his hair, grabbing his wrist and moving his arm down and out of the way. Jimin moaned and flinched away from him. “Sorry, hyung,” Jungkook mumbled, frantic eyes only now noticing the mottled discoloration all over his lower arm and wrist as he balled the shirt up in his hands, pressing it firmly against the expanse of Jimin’s head wound.

With a sharp, pained gasp, Jimin’s eyes flew open. He was staring right at Jungkook, but his gaze was cloudy and unfocused, like he wasn’t all there. Jungkook used his free hand to wipe away some of the blood that was gathering under Jimin’s nose, noticing with a flash of panic that his pupils were blown unnaturally wide despite the bright lights burning down on them. Fuck. That’s not supposed to happen. Blood was still leaking, bright and thick. It wasn’t enough. His shirt was quickly getting more and more soaked with each passing second, the white fabric now dyed a sickly mix of red and pink. Jungkook couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t stop panicking, couldn’t stop thinking of the fact that Jimin seemed half gone under him.

I don’t know what to do. How do I help him? What even happened? How can I -

“Jungkook-ah! Jungkook-ah!”

Jungkook jumped at the sudden weight of a hand on his shoulder, head snapping up to see Namjoon and Yoongi standing right next to him. He had no idea how long it’d been since he’d sprinted across the stage, since he’d turned around to see Jimin falling, falling, falling. Jungkook’s face crumpled as he stared at Namjoon, torn between wanting comfort and not wanting to leave Jimin.

“Jungkook-ah! Watch your back. The pyrotechnics are still sparking. Jimin-ah, can you hear me? Has he talked to you, Jungkook ?”

Jungkook’s head spun around, not understanding what Namjoon was talking about. Yet as he took in the little black box, once unassuming but now broken into a hundred different shards with smoke and sparks spewing from the top, he began to understand what had happened.

“I - He hasn’t said anything,” Jungkook stammered out after a long look at the mess behind him. He shifted over Jimin’s body, carefully avoiding Jimin’s right arm and kneeling with his back to the broken pyrotechnics. If anything else happened, he’d rather it hit him than Jimin.

“I’ve been trying to - trying to get him to say something. His eyes are open. But he won’t answer. It’s like he’s not - he’s not present.” He looked back up at Namjoon, who was staring down at the both of them with a mix of fear and worry in his eyes. Their leader’s face grew paler by the second, stricken with shock. Yoongi stood right behind him, wide-eyed with dread pouring off so thickly that it made Jungkook start to panic even more.

When he was overwhelmed, or scared, or unsure, he went to his hyungs. They always knew what to do. They always had an answer. But right now, as they stared down at the blood-soaked shirt covering half of Jimin’s face, it seemed like they were just as lost as him.

Suddenly, Jimin groaned again and shifted beneath him. Jungkook immediately zoned back on him, watching carefully as the older man’s eyes stared lazily past his head, still glassy and unfocused. His chest rose with short, uneven breaths as his lips parted, tongue trying to wrap around a word he couldn’t seem to say. Jungkook loosened his grip on the shirt covering his head wound, wincing slightly as he saw more blood drip down the side of his face. The shirt was nearly soaked through now, the bright red and pink a far cry from the original white. He opened his mouth, ready to ask where the others had gone when a small, shaky voice interrupted him.

“What,” Jimin abruptly mumbled, so quiet that Jungkook almost missed it. “What happened?”

Jungkook’s eyes shot open even wider as he looked to Namjoon in a panic. Jimin hadn't spoken a word until now; he’d clearly been unconscious when he’d first hit the ground, so it shouldn’t be a surprise that he had no idea what was going on. But the sound of his voice was a shock in itself - Jungkook felt relief wash through him so strong he almost fell back.

Jimin’s talking. He’s awake. He’s still here. He’s alive.

Before any of them had a chance to even come up with a response, Jimin was mumbling again, words falling out of his mouth like he couldn’t control them. “Where am I? What happened?” He shifted underneath Jungkook, lifting his legs slowly and uncertainly as he tried to plant his feet to sit up. However, when his heels touched the floor he moaned and lurched so loudly with pain that it made Jungkook shudder and splay his free hand over Jimin’s red-speckled top, trying to keep him on the floor. Namjoon and Yoongi both moved quickly, both men kneeling next to Jimin as they tried to hold him down.

“Jimin-ah! No, no, stay down please. Don’t move, okay? You have to stay down.”

But Jimin didn’t seem to listen to Namjoon’s pleading words, instead doubling his efforts to try and sit up. “What - what happened,” he moaned again. Jungkook's heart twisted as he listened to Jimin repeat himself, struggling to understand, but he kept pressing down on Jimin’s chest, leaning closer and whispering to him as he tried to calm him down.

“Jimin, please. You have to stay down. You’re hurt. Please, hyungie. We’re here to help you. Just stay down, okay? You’ll feel better if you lay down. We’re going to help you, I promise. Don’t worry about anything else. We’ll take care of it.”

Jungkook wasn’t sure if Jimin could even hear him - maybe he was just imagining things - but the constant low hum of his voice seemed to do something, because Jimin was slowly settling back down, the fight seeping out of him. He laid his legs back onto the stage, still favoring his left foot as he continued to mumble the same questions over and over. Jungkook eased up with the pressure on his chest, slowly removing his hand to wipe away the accumulating spots of blood off of his face once he knew Jimin wasn’t going to start fighting him again. He turned back to look at Namjoon again, who was now crouching side by side with Yoongi, forming a protective wall in a valiant effort to keep cameras off of Jimin’s body.

“Where are the others?” Jungkook finally managed to croak out, voice shaking from shock. He still had no idea how much time had passed or what was actually happening around them; the only thought in his head was Jimin.

“Jin took Hoseok-ah backstage, he was freaking out. Taehyung followed them, I think.” This time it was Yoongi responding. He looked only partially composed, though his eyes darted down to Jimin’s injured head every few seconds. He looked nauseous but furious at the same time, like he was barely able to keep himself contained. “Jin said he was going to go get staff. They should’ve been watching, though, so I’m not sure what’s taking them so fucking long. They should’ve just cancelled the fucking show, I don’t know why we even -”

“We’ll worry about that later,” Namjoon cut in shakily, looking around behind Jungkook. “Let’s just worry about Jimin. Jungkook-ah, just keep talking to him. He looks like he’s about to knock out.” Alarm bells started to ring in Jungkook’s head as Namjoon continued to speak, though he only registered bits and pieces, now focused on trying to rouse Jimin.

“Jimin-ah, Jimin-ah,” Jungkook repeated as he rubbed at Jimin’s chest, watching as his eyes fluttered closed, then open again. “Just stay with me, okay? We’re going to help you. Just stay awake.” He was oddly quiet now, only occasional mumbles leaving his lips that were too quiet for Jungkook to pick up on, but he kept at it, trying his best to keep Jimin awake and in the moment. He’d already lost consciousness once when he’d hit the ground, surely losing it again wouldn’t be any better. Jungkook kept talking, kept touching him, kept wiping the gathering blood from his face and neck, wiping it off on his undershirt. His hands were stained pink now but he couldn’t bring himself to care, only caring to see Jimin’s eyes stay open.

“Jungkook-ah,” someone suddenly said, tapping him on the shoulder. He looked up, startled, to see Yoongi holding out a small blanket, jerking his head down towards Jimin. “Switch them out,” he said. Jungkook’s head was buzzing loudly with panic - he wasn’t sure where Yoongi had even gotten the blanket and it took a second for him to understand that the older man was trying to help - but as soon as he caught on he nearly snatched the blanket from Yoongi’s hands, quickly switching it out with the now-soaked dress top. Jimin groaned lightly underneath him as he pressed back down, head lolling to the side. His eyes fluttered shut as his nonsensical mumbles slowed to a stop, his chest now faintly rising with slowing breaths. Jungkook quickly abandoned the bloody shirt on his lap, everything else forgotten as his focus narrowed down to just Jimin, who was quickly losing consciousness. Jungkook started to rub roughly at his chest, trying to rouse him.

“No, no, Jimin-hyung, stay with me please,” he begged. “You have to stay awake. Help’s almost here, okay? Just keep your eyes open. It’s Jungkookie, hyung. Please, please, just for me? Just stay awake. Hyung?”

But Jimin wasn’t responding anymore, his face twisted in a pained grimace. His lips were parted slightly around half-formed words, eyes open in barely visible slits as Jungkook gently turned his head back up, gripping his chin with a shaking hand. “Hyung, please. Just a little bit longer. I promise we’ll help you. Just stay awake. Please.”

Time slowed down as he kept talking to Jimin, watching as he struggled to keep himself afloat though the haze that had fallen over him. Occasionally, he would try to respond to Jungkook’s begging pleas, but his words were so garbled and quiet that they just sounded like distorted groans of pain. Jungkook refused to lose hope, even as his eyes had eventually fallen shut, the last reserves of his energy draining rapidly. Then the rest of Jimin’s body had stopped moving, only his chest showing any signs of consciousness as it rose and fell with short, shallow breaths. Jungkook was barely keeping himself together now, vibrating with a new wave of adrenaline that almost knocked him on the floor. His vision was blurring as tears gathered in his eyes, threatening to spill over and run down his cheeks like a waterfall. He swallowed thickly, pure anxiety rolling through his body.

Jungkook was trying to hold onto Jimin, but he was slipping through his fingers like dust.

“Jimin. Jimin, please.”

Jungkook’s broken pleas echoed against deaf ears. Jimin wasn’t responding anymore. His eyes were fully shut now, his body limp with what Jungkook recognized as unconsciousness.

“Hyung. Hyung, please wake up.”

He pressed against Jimin’s chest. No response. He ran his fingers through Jimin’s torn hair, mindless to the world around them. A stray drop of blood ran down his cheek. Jungkook wiped it away. His skin was pale and sweaty, half-dried smears of blood decorating his face. Jungkook barely noticed as Namjoon started to tug at his shoulders, pulling him up and away from Jimin. He only managed to fight through the fuzz in his head as he stood on his feet, suddenly aware that he wasn’t near Jimin anymore. He panicked, trying to kneel on the floor again but Namjoon wasn’t letting him, instead holding him back as a swarm of people surrounded Jimin’s limp body, still lying on the stage. Everything started to come into clarity around him, from the raucous, panicked crowd to Namjoon’s low, commanding voice.

“Let them help, Jungkook-ah. They’ll take him to the hospital. Come with me, okay?”

But Namjoon couldn’t hide the stark fear in his voice. His hands shook as they grasped firmly at his upper arms, fingers digging into the bare skin. He pulled Jungkook back, away from the crowd of people. Away from Jimin. Jungkook struggled in his grip, stumbling backwards. “Let me go with him. Please. I want to go with him. I can’t leave him. Please, let me go. He can’t be alone. Hyung, please. Please let me go.”

Yet the leader kept a firm hold on Jungkook’s body, one that Jungkook didn’t have the energy to escape. His head was spinning, everything was blurring around him. He watched helplessly as Jimin was surrounded, unable to see anything but the soles of his boots peeking out from the wall of people. Jimin’s feet laid limp on the floor, unmoving.

“Hyung,” Jungkook whispered, voice cracking. He tugged at Namjoon’s grip once more, stumbling sideways when the older man’s fingers suddenly loosened around his arms. Namjoon had let go and Jungkook didn’t look back before surging forward again, heart straining with the need to be near Jimin.

I can’t leave him. Please.

Jungkook hovered near the back, straining to catch glimpses of Jimin as he paced around. There seemed to be a collar of some sort around his neck now, the soft swell of his cheeks rubbed red in irritation. Jungkook watched as Jimin was lifted onto a stretcher and belted in, skin prickling in agitation at the number of hands flying all over his body. He ground his jaw, panicking as they started to move. His eyes flickered to the floor, seeing his bloodied shirt lying discarded. A flash of gold caught the corner of his eye. Jimin’s microphone lay abandoned off to the side, flecks of red starkly contrasting with the golden sparkle. He snatched the shirt and mic, gripping them so tightly his knuckles turned white.

I need to be with him.

“Let me go with him,” Jungkook said loudly, trying to catch the attention of one of the medical staff. “He’s going to be confused. Let me go with him, please.”

The pure desperation in Jungkook’s voice seemed to reach one of the staff as they turned around and nodded in his direction, eyes flashing with barely concealed pity. But Jungkook didn’t care, only focused on the man lying strapped onto the stretcher. They started to move and Jungkook followed, not giving anything behind him a second glance as everything else left his mind, only the need to stay filling his heart and moving his feet. He jogged to catch up with them, falling into step as he caught a glimpse of Jimin’s slack, bloodied face.

He didn’t think as the screams of the fans followed him across the stage. He didn’t think as he ducked backstage, ignoring the heavy, frightened stares from the gathered crowds of staff and idols alike. He didn’t think as the hallways twisted and melded together until they were suddenly outside, the frigid December air stinging against his bare skin. He didn’t think as he stepped into an ambulance, shoved into a corner by medical personnel who surrounded Jimin once again, blocking him out completely. Jungkook didn’t think as he sat stoically, hands gripping onto the shirt and microphone like a lifeline. He stared in Jimin’s direction, unable to rip his eyes away. His body rocked with the speed of the ambulance, so deep in shock that he couldn’t move. The world faded out as Jungkook fell deeper into himself.

“Chicken and beer at yours,” Jimin had said.

They were supposed to get together after the show. Jungkook had been looking forward to sitting on his balcony with Jimin, letting the cold glow of the city surround them. They were supposed to sit for hours, talking about any topic that came to mind, though Jungkook usually ended up just listening, staring as Jimin’s face lit up in front of him. He enjoyed it. He craved their stolen moments, private to everyone else but them. It was beautiful. Everything about Jimin was beautiful.

But now he was stained with Jimin’s blood, shoved in the back of an ambulance as it raced down the road at a speed that rivaled the beating of Jungkook’s heart. He turned slowly to stare out of the small back windows, watching the streetlights stretch and bend as they flew by.

Please, Jimin.

Please come back to me.