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jimlingss · 4 years

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The Colour of Our Voices [Finale]

Chapter 17 - Chapter 18 [Finale]

➜ Words: 6.9k

➜ Genres: 98% Fluff, 2% Angst, Slice of Life, Broadway!AU

➜ Summary: He wasn’t supposed to hear. He wasn't supposed to know. But the instant Jimin came into your life and pulled the curtains back, you couldn't hide backstage anymore. You were no longer merely a phantom of the opera.

cr.

You and Jimin exchange grins and laughter. There’s no one on this planet happier to see the two of you together than Taehyung. “Thank god.” He’s relieved to see Jimin beside you to the point where he looks like he's about to cry. “Does this mean you’re on board with me here, Park? Or are you going to make me beg you.” “I’m on board, Director Kim.” Jimin grins and Taehyung laughs. “I’m liking the sound of that.” He claps his hands together. “Then let’s get started, shall we? We’ve wasted too much time already.”

It’s a dive straight into the deep end without warning. Taehyung gets you both involved in the whole production process, practically becoming his assistants. He always asks for your input, from costume design to stage props, wanting everything to be perfect and needing opinions. You’ve never been so involved in a show before, but you love every second of it. Taehyung also assembles together a dream team — the choreographer, casting director, and creative team. “What’s the story about?” But tonight it’s just you three seated on Taehyung’s living room floor, fried chicken set up in the middle and scripts in your lap, flipping the pages with greasy fingers. “What do you think it’s about?” He throws the question back around, and Jimin hums a low note. “It focuses a lot on the female Broadway actress. She seems to be really...cynical.” “And burnt out,” you add while flipping to a portion you highlighted after reading it through once. “She finds performing boring.” “Exactly.” Taehyung bites into a drumstick, chewing it in his cheek. “After years of doing the same thing, she’s lost all inspiration. Until…” “He comes along,” you say and he nods. The male lead is hopeful, overly optimistic and even overbearing at times. But the two of them fall in love slowly, going through trials, inspiring one another, and adding more vibrant colours to their voices. You consider the story and characters carefully, brooding over days to come. You’re still deliberating how you want to interpret and embody this character — you’ve never played a character like this before and she seems quite different from who you actually are. “Hey, Jimin,” you interrupt him in the dressing room one day. His eyes lift off his paper at the sound of your voice and he smiles. “Do you think I have it in me to be mean?” Jimin laughs boyishly. “Is that why you’ve been so stressed?” “I’m not stressed.” You sigh, putting down your script. “I’ve just been thinking a lot about how I want to do this, and I don’t know if I have it in me.” “Don’t worry, you have it in you.” You scoff. “Okay, what’s that supposed to mean?” “What?” Jimin giggles, ducking his head. “You sound so certain like you didn’t need to think about it.” You pout at him, quirking your head to one side. “I’m not mean.” The brunette merely shrugs, continuing to tease, “You can be inside. Everyone thinks you’re all timid and shy, but I know you. You’re like dynamite. You just...blow up sometimes, if you get upset enough. Hey, don’t give me that look — it’s not a bad thing. It’s kind of endearing. And everyone has a limit, so it’s natural.” “Don’t call my anger endearing,” you snap at him, sounding more like Yeonjeon than intended. The actress was rubbing off on you in the worst ways — and you’re sure she’d be proud of it if she knew. But it makes Jimin laugh and he pounds his chest with a fist. “Try.” “Try what?” “Being mean. Try being the experience Broadway madame.” “Okay. Don’t make fun of me,” you warn him with narrowed eyes, and he promises he won’t. You clear your throat, deciding to walk away from him. He frowns momentarily, confused but eyes glimmering in amusement as he watches you. And you enter the dressing room again, pushing the curtains aside haphazardly. You’re no longer Y/N — you’ve become a cynical, veteran Broadway star. “What do you think you’re doing?!” you bark at him, and immediately, Jimin cracks a smile. You forcefully furrow your brows, hissing, “Are you laughing, Park?” You approach in three wide strides with your arms crossed, pretending you have those three inch heels on that are infamous for your character. “No,” Jimin mutters in an attempt to be timid, but you see the twitch of his facial muscles. You grab the collar of his shirt in a fistful, crinkling the fabric underneath your force. And you pull him forward roughly. “How dare you. Do you know who I am?” You connect his eyes with yours, feigned anger wafting off of you. You don’t realize that your mouths are mere inches apart, that he can feel your warm breath skim against his skin, that his heart stutters in his chest. “Wake up, Park.” Your other hand lifts, lightly hitting on his cheek as if you’re helping him become alert again. “Not everything is beautiful and great in life.” Then suddenly, his arm raises. Jimin’s palm cups the back of your hand that’s pressed against his cheek. He searches your expression affectionately as silence comes across the room. Your eyes soften — while his flickers down to your mouth. He stares at your lips if he were hungry to taste them. You swallow hard. In one second, it’s become too intimate, the air heavy. “J-Jimin…” You’ve broken character with your whimper, and with the call of his name, Jimin snaps back to focus. He lets go, stepping back to put that comfortable distance between the two of you again. Just like that, the warmth of his body is gone. “S-Sorry. Yeah, that was good. Not too bad.” “Thanks.” It’s not clear what you and Jimin are. He’s more than a neighbour and colleague. Less than a boyfriend. Perhaps he could be compared as a friend that you have unspoken affections for. The pair of you agreed to keep things friendly for the time being, to ease your way into things, and not to rush and make another mistake. But at the moment, it’s hard to decipher what’s right and what’s wrong. It’s difficult to know where the exact line is, where the boundary shouldn’t be crossed. Although, you both mutually understand that there are still lots of feelings attached to both your gestures. Your relationship with Jimin isn’t exactly platonic and you don’t think it could ever revert that way. You’re mulling over it so deeply, you don’t notice the crosswalk turned red…. Until you’re pulled back. “Hey!” You spin around, eyes wide. It’s as if you summoned him to appear in front of you, that thinking about him so much made him materialize. “Jimin?” “Watch we’re you’re going,” he scolds with that knot formed between his brows. “S-sorry.” The cars rush past the street. You’re at a loss for words. “What are you doing here?” “Did you forget we live in the same building?” His chin motions to the brownstone at the end of the other block. You don’t realize his hand is still encircling your wrist. For Jimin, it’s too natural to hold onto you and for you, it’s too natural to be held by him. “We must’ve gotten on the same subway train but on different carts.” “Oh.” The evening sun is peeking its last rays from above the high rise buildings, and it casts yellow glow onto his skin. You’re mesmerized at how he looks in the golden hour. “What were you thinking about?” “Nothing.” “Well, you should be more careful. Taehyung wouldn’t be happy if you got run over. Neither would I.” The both of you end up walking together up across the street, down the block, up the stairway, and down the same hallway. Your footsteps sync together. “What are your plans for tonight?” he asks with no real implication behind his voice, simply making conversation. “Nothing much. You?” “Probably just dinner and then maybe a movie or something.” Jimin halts in front of his door, and you stop in front of yours. The boy hesitates as he glances at you. “Do you...want to come in and join me? Promise my pasta recipe’s improved.” You wonder what it’ll mean to follow after him, to accept his invitation, if that’s crossing the boundary of what’s appropriate. But you don’t think about it twice to consider what you really want. “I hope it’s delicious.” Jimin grins as you follow after him.

“Hey, Taehyung.” He stops the busy man mid-step who’s startled from suddenly being called. “You know when you were asking me about the marketing stuff for the production and the posters?” “Yeah?” “I think….you should make the posters purple and orange. Kind of like a split diagonal thing of both colours.” Jimin’s not sure what he’s saying, mumbling away as he scratches the back of his neck. “Like it would morph together. It would look cool, and it’s kind of meaningful to Y/N and I.” “Okay.” Taehyung softens and takes the suggestion to heart. “I’ll make a note of it.”

It’s two months into the production when casting calls happen. It’s surreal to sit at a table and discuss who you’d like in the show, what kind of person you’re looking for. You used to be on the other side, hoping and praying you’d get a call back — but now you’re the one deciding who to contact. You could potentially change any of these people’s lives. “What about her?” Shihyuk, one of the producers, passes a girl’s headshot and application around as the rest of you are narrowing down the people who applied. “She’s pretty.” “She is,” Taehyung agrees, “But she struggled to sing the mezzo part. What do we think?” “No.” Jimin shakes his head. Taehyung looks at you for your opinion and you agree with Jimin. “If she can’t sing then it’s a no for me too.” Shihyuk offers the next application in the thick pile. “What about this person? I saw the video she sent in. She seemed really nervous. Hit some notes well, but her voice cracked at other parts. I really can’t tell if she can actually perform or not.” “Well, it doesn’t look like she’s had much experience,” Taehyung notes at a glance. “What do you think, Y/N?” After all, the character you’re casting for is the female lead’s best friend. Taehyung’s relying heavily on your input for this one considering she’d be performing with you the most. You hum. “I think we should give her a call and see for ourselves.” In the middle of discussions of how the vision of the show could be executed, listening to demos, adjusting parts of the script, costume design, meeting with the creative team and producers, there’s two full days set aside purely for auditions. “Think of me, think of me fondly when we’ve said goodbye.” The girl gestures wildly and inhales a deep breath before she sings, “Remember me, once in a while, please promise me you’ll try. Then you’ll find—” Once finished, she does a dramatic bow. “Thank you.” Taehyung gets her to read a few lines, and after she leaves, there’s a brief discussion. “I think she’s great.” Shihyuk makes his opinion known at once. “She was alright.” Jimin shrugs. “A bit overwhelming.” Taehyung jots the notes down and looks up at you. You nod slowly. “I think she was okay.” The next person is called in and you recognize the girl that enters from her headshot — except, her shoulders are seemingly slugging compared to her picture and she’s dragging her feet. “H-Hi. My name is Boyoung. P-Park Boyoung.” She stumbles over with copies of her application in hand. She begins to distribute them out, but Taehyung lifts his hand to stop her. “It’s alright. We already have copies.” “O-oh, okay.” Boyoung takes them back, muttering apologies like she just killed someone on accident. Once she collects them again, she clumsily trips on her feet and the white papers spill across the carpet, coating it in white. Shihyuk audibly sighs. “I’m so, so sorry.” “It’s okay.” You smile at her, and the girl swallows hard with a firm nod. She composes herself, gets her papers again, and stands in the center of the room. “What will you be performing today?” Jimin asks. “‘There’s Music In You’ from Cinderella.” Her eyes light up as she says it. As if recalling something, Boyoung staggers towards the piano accompanist in the corner. She shuffles her belongings and gives him the appropriate sheet music. “Alright, you can start whenever you want.” Boyoung bobs her head furiously and grips the hem of her sweater. “Beyond the voice—” Her voice cracks. She visibly winces. Shihyuk raises his hand to stop the pianist. “You’re off key.” “I’m so sorry! Please give me another chance—” “Hey,” you interrupt, smiling softly. “It’s okay. Take your time, okay? I promise none of us are going to kill you.” Taehyung looks over at you with a grin. “You can’t promise that. I might just lunge over the table and kill someone one day.” You give Taehyung an unamused expression while Jimin laughs. “If he kills you, we’ll make sure we kill him.” The girl is eased from banter and relaxes with a small smile. She starts again. “Beyond the voice that keeps insisting “no”. There is something more than doubting. Breaking through the darkness. Something that sets your heart a glow. Someone wants you. You know who. Now you’re living—there’s music in you…” Eventually, she finishes her song and releases a shaky breath. Some notes were sung uncertainly, but she has a good voice and tone overall. “Thank you,” she says and practically runs out of the room right away. There’s silence and you lean back. “Well, I like her.” Shihyuk looks at you live you’ve gone insane, but Taehyung grins. “Good.” // You get off the elevator to the main lobby, glancing at your phone before pocketing it. You’re about to push open the front door, but you hear a quiet voice from the girl lingering right by. “Miss. Y/N?” You recognize the short, dark-haired female. “Boyoung, right?” “Yes. That’s me.” She gives a reserved smile. “You don’t need to call me miss. Just Y/N is fine,” you tell with a smile and she nods timidly. “Is there something you wanted...?” “I-I just...wanted to thank you for giving me a chance. If it weren’t for you, I would’ve messed up my audition completely.” “Oh, it’s not a problem.” You casually bat your hand in the air. “ Trust me, it’s a lot more scary to be up there singing when a bunch of strangers are watching you. I just wanted to let you know that we weren’t mean or going to judge you negatively right off the bat.” Boyoung bobs her head and your stare softens. “Keep practicing, alright? You’re really good, so don’t give up.” The girl bows her head, eyes teary. “Thank you. It means a lot coming from you.” You smile, feeling a sense of nostalgia. You remember when you were just like her — when you couldn’t sing a single note in front of anyone who wasn’t Jimin. You remember the way your hands used to shake in the spotlight, how your palms became clammy, sweat built at your forehead. You can recall the way your heart would pick up its speed, that fear that overwhelmed you and kept your voice from coming out. It feels so long ago but you remember it well.

Lately, you seem to be reminiscent of the past. You always thought someday you'd look back in disdain. But instead, it's a bitter-sweetness that you feel most often when your mind takes a trip down memory lane. Sure, that time period was when you struggled to make ends-meet, to make yourself known, and you allowed yourself to be stepped on as a result. But those days were arguably free and ignorant. They were days when you would commute with Jimin to work and the two of you would be involved in each other's antics, making mischief in between sweeps and coffee runs. It was back when you were just best friends keeping each other company. There were plenty of good days in between the bad. “Director Kang?” You squint, and the person ahead of the line turns around. The stout man's gotten older since you've last seen him, hair no longer black but marked with streaks of gray. His eyes are wide and he still has a loud, booming voice. “Y/N.” Once upon a time, you hated the man so much you often dreamed about smashing his head with a brick — you’re so glad that you didn't. You’re no longer filled with hatred. All your resentments have faded away with time. He looks at you from the corner of his eye and you smile at him, sipping on your coffee as he waits for his at the station. The director clears his throat and grunts. “I heard you're in an original production.” “Yes, Jimin and I are working together with Director Kim.” He makes a noise at the back of his throat. “And how is it going? Do you know what you're doing?” “Kind of. It's a bit hectic, but fun. A lot of work.” “As expected,” he mutters passive aggressively. “Shows require a lot of work.” You nod. “I heard the Phantom production is retiring.” The older man sighs and finally gets his coffee from the barista. But he doesn’t try to escape your presence at the chance. He lingers with you in the shop, sipping on his hot drink with his eyes faraway. “It was bound to be over anyways.” Looks like he knew it too. You guess he wasn’t completely aloof to his own production or ignorant from hubris. “Do you know what the others are doing?” “Taeyeon's taking up modeling. She signed with some fancy company here in New York. And Seokjin — he got accepted into Hollywood.” “Wow.” There're not better places they could be, especially for Seokjin. With a godly face like his — he shouldn't fade into obscurity. “What about you? Do you have any plans, sir?” “I'm going on an unpaid sabbatical.” Director Kang smiles after sipping his drink again. “I have enough money to go see the world. Never got a chance to before, y'know? Now's the time.” There’s a bit of small talk made on his travel plans before you get a text on your phone from Jimin asking where you are. You hitch a thumb over your shoulder. “I should probably head out now.” “Oh, okay.” The older man waves you away, dismissing you — a force of habit after many years. “It was nice seeing you, Director Kang.” He grunts, and you walk away. But then he calls out— “Intern!” You turn around. The director gives a nod of acknowledgment. “Good work.” You grin at him, laughter bubbling out of your parted lips. The older man smiles. // “Give me a chance. Let me show you the world.” Jimin sings, vigorous and determined. You scoff, spinning around with your arms crossed to glare. “I've already seen the world.” “Not the way I have.” The music begins on the stereo, violin strings pulling together in a slow romantic crescendo. You both continue the duet, gazing at one another. But halfway through, it becomes too much so you divert your eyes, focusing on the lyrics. Eventually the song dies out and there’s a round of applause around the room that surprises you. On the other hand, while Taehyung gives a thumbs up, you know from the look of his face he's not completely satisfied. Like the perfectionist he’s become, Taehyung pulls you two into his office when there's a moment to spare. “Was there something wrong?” your brunette partner beside you asks. “I only started working on it last night,” you add, not wanting Jimin to be blamed for you slacking. But the boy becomes alarmed and steps forward. “It's not Y/N's fault. I didn't start practicing this until the beginning of this week — I was working on my solo…” Taehyung’s jaw drops. “You guys only started this recently?!” “Well…” “Uh.” You exchange looks. Taehyung shakes his head. “Look, frankly, the duet wasn't an issue. It was good, really good, your voices were super beautiful blended together. Especially if this is one of the first few rehearsals for it. The problem is there's not enough....” Taehyung makes wild gestures, struggling to find the words. “...chemistry. At least not like in the original production of When Summer Meets Winter. There's just this 'pow' that's missing. Do you guys get what I'm saying? Am I making any sense or am I going crazy here?” You look at one another before nodding at Taehyung. “No, we get it.” The pair of you are not as close as you were back then — that much is clear. “Okay, good. Then I want you both to figure it out and work on it. Somehow. Someway. If that requires bonding activity or more practice or more talking. I have so many things to do, can I trust you two will work on it and keep me updated?” “Yeah, sure.” Jimin smiles and when he glances at you for reassurance, your own lips lift. “We can do it.” But you’re not exactly sure what that entails or what he has in mind. You don’t know how to close the distance that’s been set between you and Jimin, how to cross that boundary. But you both did it once before — you can do it again. “So…” You swallow hard. “How do you want to approach this homework assignment?” Jimin grins, teasing, “You’re calling our bonding time homework?” The sly bastard relishes in your flustered expression. “Well if it isn’t homework then what is it?” He doesn’t answer your question and just gives you a knowing look. “How about dinner tonight?” “O-okay.” He’s bold, surprisingly so. Though you don’t mind in the least bit and Jimin’s grin widens. “Sounds like a plan.” // The warm restaurant is dim with candlelights, intimate conversations and laughter — especially at your own table where the food’s long gotten cold. You both forget to eat and only remember where you are when the waitress stops by to fill up your glass of water. “—back to town.” “Oh, I haven’t seen Namjoon in so long. Ever since he…” “Took your headshots.” “God, that must’ve been over a year ago. I thought he was only supposed to go for a few months.” You shrug, not sure yourself. “Namjoon tends to get side-tracked. He probably went to neighbouring countries to take pictures.” “That’s so cool.” Jimin’s eyes glimmer in genuine admiration. “Did he say how traveling was?” “No.” You shake your head. “I’m planning to go see him soon. He always gets me snacks when he goes abroad, plus I need to update my own headshots.” Your eyes sparkle as you smile and Jimin laughs. “Does he mind taking headshots?” “Nah. We’re long time friends, plus I’m sure he’s really curious about a bunch of things that have happened recently, he’s been emailing me for months now asking about yo— never mind.” “What?” Jimin gives a shit eating grin, egging you on, “He’s been asking about me?” You glare before it melts into a sad pout. “Namjoon’s just a fan of you.” “Who isn’t?” he chimes mischievously. You lightly scoff. “Guess you’re not wrong there.” “So you agree with me?” Jimin’s irises glisten in the yellow flame, outright shameless as he fishes for more compliments. He wants you to say it out loud properly. You loll your head. “Yes, Park Jimin. You’re amazing. Happy?” “Very. Do you have any other praise you’ve been dying to give me?” “A ton.” You give him a look that rouses more laughter and your voice continues to be loaded with sarcasm, “You’re the best. There’s so much I’ve been meaning to tell you — I missed you and this so much.” It goes quiet. Jimin’s smile softens into something more sincere. “I missed you too.” He gazes at you. It quickly becomes too much, too intense, and you look elsewhere. Even if you don’t say it, he knows you missed him equally as much. After dinner, you walk together and spontaneously decide to go to an improv show like the old days. This time, you have no reservations about sitting in the front rows and you’re no longer fearful of being called upon. You enjoy the performance wholeheartedly, especially when the improv actor Hoseok pulls Jimin up for a brief segment and you watch him make a fool of himself. You’re still giggling even when it’s all over. “You should’ve seen the look on your face!” Jimin points at you. “Hey, I tried my best!” You wipe the tears that have formed at the corner of your eyes. “God, I should’ve taken a picture.” The two of you are stumbling on the streets together, underneath the darkened night sky, and the dim post lamps that cast a warm glow on his skin. The night is calm. You listen to the sound of cars rushing past in the far-off roads. It’s not so noisy as it is soft background noise. “You can take a picture now.” “Yeah, but it’s not the same.” “Cause I’m missing my horrified expression?” “Yes,” you giggle. Your footsteps sync together, and Jimin steals a glance at you before looking ahead again. And when the back of your hand accidentally brushes against his, you don’t flinch or move away. “Can I...hold your hand?” he asks quietly. Timidly. You faintly smile to yourself. “Yeah.” Almost instantaneously, your palms clasp one another’s. You knit your fingers between his and Jimin gives a tender squeeze. His body is warm and it helps to heat your cheeks. “Sorry.” You steal a glimpse of him before diverting your vision away. “My hands are cold.” “No, it’s okay.” There’s a moment of silence as you walk hand in hand as if it always should’ve been that way. Jimin’s steps gradually slows and you stop with him. On the corner of some unfamiliar boulevard, underneath a lamp post, he stares. Hesitance comes off of him in waves. He swallows hard. “Y/N, can I kiss you?” There’s a beat of quiet. You answer him with a nod. One more enthusiastic than necessary. Jimin grins, leaning in slowly. He lets go of your hand to find purchase on your waist, and the other cradles your cheek. His half-lidded eyes flicker down to your lips, the tip of his tongue peeking to lick at the seam of his own mouth. Your breath hitches, foreheads graze, noses bumping slightly. But you tilt your head and draw in towards him to gingerly kiss his lips. Your lashes flutter against his before you close your eyes to indulge in him. It’s slow and soft, full of hesitance like it’s the first time he’s touching you. Your brain melts and all you can think about is how nice his velvet lips feel against yours. You exhale a breath, and Jimin’s about to pull away, but you deepen it. You tug him in closer by his coat, desperately, anxiously. Trying to feel more of him. Trying to keep him here. Jimin moans against your mouth and angles his head, tongue intruding to taste your lips. The force he presses against your mouth makes you stumble back, whimper, but he holds you as your back hits against the brick wall. Jimin’s arms lift to cage you in and you’re surrounded in his scent. Surrounded in everything that is undeniably Jimin. Soft smacking fills the chilly air, but you don’t feel cold with his hot breath on you. Quickly, the soft kiss turns hungry and earnest, as if he’s trying to prove something. His kiss means more — words turned into actions, like he’s trying to show you reasons why you should stay with him, as if it’s a plea to keep you by his side. You missed this. And when the pair of you part away, the thin string of saliva breaks apart from between you both. You swallow hard, mouths swollen, chests heaving and catching your breaths. Jimin stares at you like you’re the only one that matters. “I’m still in love with you,” he tells. “Very much so and I know I will be for the rest of my life.” Tears prick at your eyes. “I love you too.” “The best thing that I’ve ever done in this life was becoming your neighbour and knocking on your door that day.” Jimin’s body presses against yours and he smiles. “I’d do it again.” You laugh, giggling, searching his eyes as your own soften. “I’m glad I opened that door for you, Park Jimin.”

After nearly four months of being extensively involved in the production process, two months filled with casting and rehearsals, the day has arrived after one hectic dress rehearsal. And Taehyung could not look any happier. While things might not be absolutely flawless, what matters is he’s happy with the effort put forth no matter the outcome. “So this was all you?” Yeonjeon’s shown up in one of the front row seats she paid for herself. She threw out the ticket you got her when she decided it was too far back for her liking. And she’s excessively done up, dressed in a glamorous form-fitting dress. The actress is a sight for sore eyes. “Well, I had lots of help, but it was all my idea.” “Not bad, Kim.” Yeonjeon hums. “You’ve made it far from being a little assistant.” “Should’ve been nice to me when you had the chance,” Taehyung teases, bumping into her shoulder playfully and making her scowl. “I’m not late, am I?” A taller, awkward man comes bumbling over. He pushes his glasses up the slope of his nose. Immediately, Yeonjeon checks him out from top to bottom and her eyes become rounded. “Who is this?” The Broadway actress bats her lashes, voice pitching up. Taehyung grins. “This is Namjoon. He’s Y/N and Jimin’s friend.” “Nice to meet you.” Yeonjeon extends her hand, but Namjoon hesitates to take it. “N-Nice to meet you too. Sorry, I’m really sweaty, I ran—” “Nonsense.” She shakes his hand, grip firm, and she tilts her head while her eyes glimmer in the lights. “You look great and trust me, I was running late too, so no worries.” Taehyung holds back a laugh — he knows for a fact that Yeonjeon was an hour earlier than she needed to be. But whatever she’s trying to do, it’s working. Namjoon is seemingly flustered, eyes wide. His breath stutters and he manages a wordless nod. Taehyung swears he sees a spark. Another friend of Jimin soon shows up — Jeon Jungkook — that Taehyung recognizes from brief encounters in the past. Yeonjeon, on the other hand, is thoroughly less excited to meet him. Especially when he doesn’t recognize who she is. “We worked together.” Yeonjeon’s smile becomes stiffer. “We did?” “In a commercial” “Huh.” Jungkook’s doe eyes blink. “I don’t recall.” Taehyung would expect a cat fight, mostly one-sided, but Yeonjeon paints on a pretty smile with Namjoon here and is civil for the time being. “Guess I just don’t make strong enough impressions.” Yeonjeon continues making Namjoon nervous with her excessive flirting. The man is whipped for her already and playing right into the palm of her hand much to her liking, but he’s a sweetheart that Yeonjeon appears to find endearing. Jungkook, on the other hand, is seemingly not impressed with being the third wheel and relies on Taehyung to make it less awkward. The actor talks to him about how excited he is to see his friend and how he hasn’t been to many Broadway shows — though eventually Taehyung has to excuse himself from the conversation to go backstage one last time. “Alright folks, are we ready?” “Ready!” And eventually when the curtains draw and the music begins, your eyes meet Jimin’s. You gaze at one another, hands interlaced, giving a comforting squeeze, and you step out together. The spotlight shines on both of you.

[Epilogue] The moving truck wakes you. It’s deafening. You can hear the slow ‘beep, beep, beep’ of the vehicle backing up. It snaps you out of your trance, bringing back your attention and you look away from the apartment complex. It was never terribly luxurious — nothing that you had envisioned when you were moving to iconic New York. But it’s cozy, a good five floors, classic brick on the side of a quiet street. And for so many years of your life, it was home. There are messy boxes littering the hall, the door wide open, and the living space suddenly empty. You feel sad somehow, but you continue to pack the last of your belongings and the small knick-knacks you almost forgot. All while trying your best not to cry. “Alright, do you want me to take this too, boss?” the moving truck guy asks, pointing to one of the last cardboard boxes on the floor. “Yes, please.” He’s about to take it, but hesitates. “Umm, excuse me, boss. You’re L/N Y/N, right?” You slowly nod, wondering why he’s asking, and then he smiles. “I thought I recognized you! Can I please get your autograph?” The corners of your mouth quirk. “Sure.” The man grabs his clipboard off the kitchen counter and flips the paper to the blank side. “My sister’s a huge fan.” “Tell her I said thank you.” You sign the paper with your name, all loops and lines, leaving a small message as well. “No, thank you. Honestly, it’s an honour.” The man beams at you, starstruck. The reaction is still hard to get used to, but he quickly takes your autograph and grabs the box. “I-I’ll just take this downstairs, Miss Y/N.” He shuffles out, but steals a glance over his shoulder. You should probably offer to take a picture with him, but you’ll do that later. For now, you want to linger a bit more in the place you spent so much time in. You step out onto the cold balcony to lean on the railing. And you savour the view. You can still remember how you felt when you arrived in New York — to say you were excited to be here was a severe understatement. It was your dream. You couldn’t believe you were standing here in the city. It was absolutely surreal. It still is your dream, but you’ve largely achieved what you wanted and you love every moment of it. Your thoughts interrupted by a sweet, purple tone. “Thought I’d find you out here.” The timing is perfect. You turn to find Jimin and you smile. He embraces you, arms looped around your midsection, holding you from behind. You lean into him as the two of you stare out at the city. “Why do I feel so sad?” “It’s the nostalgia,” he hums, feeling it too. He has been for the last whole week. “I’m gonna miss this place.” It’s the place where you met him. “H-hello?” “H-Hi. I...I just….” He tapped his ear, trying to explain himself. “I thought I heard…heard....never mind.” Jimin hitched his thumb over his shoulder and awkwardly tilted his body. “I just moved in.” “Y-Yeah. I saw this morning.” “So…it’s-uh-nice to meet you, I guess. I mean I don’t guess because it is great to meet you. I swear I’m not usually like this. What I mean is usually I’m not so direct. And, um, bad at speaking. We’ll be neighbors from now on. So I wanted to say hello, since usually, that’s the polite thing to do. Or at least what my mom tells me. She’s great. My mom. But right, I didn’t even tell you my name. My bad. I’m Park Jimin.” It’s the place where you spent countless nights together and apart. “Instant noodles aren't that great for your throat,” you said as you blew on the noodles out on the balcony. “Or for your health for that matter. You need to keep your voice healthy which means you need to drink water, warm up, and know your limits.” He nodded, cheekful of ramen as he scribbled down the notes that were placed on his lap. “You can ruin your voice if you strain it long term. It happens to a lot of singers if you compare to how they sang when they were young and when they got older. Smoking of course is out of the question. An orchestra player has to take care of their instruments. Broadway performers have to take care of their voices.” “Yes, ma’am.” It’s the place where you fell in love with each other. “Don’t worry too much. I think you’ll manage, even if it’s hard. You’re a triple threat, Jimin. Singing, dancing, acting, that’s all the basic requirements.” He smiled, peeking at you through his lashes. “You think I’m good enough at singing?” “Getting there.” “What about you? You said you don’t dance well.” “Well, I don’t really sing or act either.” He clicked his tongue in annoyance. “I don’t know if you’re being humble or you’re such an idiot that you’re unaware of your own talents—” “Did you just call me an idi—” “—because your voice is probably one of the best I’ve heard in real life. Like, you’re just naturally good at singing. I’d pay any amount to watch you perform.” It’s meaningful. The four walls of your apartment and his — they’ve heard you talk, fight, yell, sing, your whispers of your affections. A part of you thought you’d be here forever. But you’re also glad that you’re not — it’s never too good to remain stagnant. To remain in one single place without ever walking forward. “But you know,” Jimin continues, “Our new place is gonna be bigger and have a better view of the city. We can finally host properly and invite Taehyung, Yeonjeon, Namjoon and Jungkook to come over.” You hum, already knowing all the possibilities and the memories that will be made in the new place. Memories that you look forward to creating with Jimin by your side. “We’ll be right over there.” He points to the distance where it’s closer to the heart of it all. You can see the vague outline of the high rise that’ll give you a new angle on the metropolis, a new view that’s perhaps even more beautiful. You look up at him. “Are you excited about being my roommate instead of my neighbour?” Jimin giggles. “So that’s what we are now? Roommates?” “Roommates that happen to share the same bed,” you sing-song. He bursts out laughing and the boyish sound is melodic to your ears. “Just to let you know, my parents didn’t want to just give us a vase and a lamp. They wanted me to put in baby furniture, but I told them it was way too soon.” “Really?” Jimin giggles with you. “I think they already bought a crib and they’re going to return it.” “Hmm, I wonder how we’ll break the news to them that we’re only roommates.” He tickles your side, having enough of your jokes and your teasing. It makes you sing numerous apologies between giggles that you’re only joking before he finally lets up. “It’s about time to leave this old place behind,” Jimin coaxes in case you’re still sad, “We’re practically living together already and we gotta upgrade to bigger and better things. What else am I going to do with the money in the bank that’s collecting dust?” You turn around in his arms, pouting at him sympathetically. “Aww, poor you, your wallet’s too fat, Minnie? I know a way to solve that.” Jimin swats your hand away when it tries to reach into his pocket, his gaze darkening. “Nuh-uh. I don’t think so, miss.” “Psh, fine. I don’t need your fat bank account. Like I don’t have my own,” you tease. “You know, I’m pretty sure the moving guy has a crush on me. He recognized me and got my autograph. Did he get yours?” You quirk your head to the side, taunting him, and laughter bubbles out of Jimin’s lips. “Excuse me? A crush? If he doesn’t know who I am then he’s about to.” You step off the balcony together, back inside your now empty home that’s next door to his equally empty apartment room. “What are you going to do? Punch him?” “More like I’ll kiss you in front of him.” “How threatening.” “Or what if I recite a Shakespeare sonnet to you in front of him?” “Sounds more like it.” “How about I just declare how much I love you?” “Not creative enough — you already do that on a daily basis, Jimin.” The door shuts and the quietness of your apartment settles. Beams of sunlight come through the glass windows, catching the dust floating in the air, and painting the room in warm hues. You walk together with Jimin and the colour of your voices fade away from the wall’s ears.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #jimin fanfiction #jimin broadway au #jimin broadway!au #jimin x reader #jimin fluff #jimin scenario #jimin fanfic #ALL Y'ALL IT'S FINALLY OVER #oh my god this has been one wild ride #a bittersweet one with an emphasis on sweet imo #I hope you all enjoyed #for those who read every single word I'm absolutely honoured and thankful #thank you for spending your time and reading this series #it means a lot #all the feedback and love means more than you'll know :')

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