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homoose · 3 years

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Love Has a Learning Curve: Part V (x reader)

Summary: Y/N meets Diana, and it goes better than she expected. Y/N meets the team, and it doesn’t go completely as planned. Spencer’s spidey senses are tingling.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: hurt/comfort, fluff

Word Count: 5k

Warnings/Includes: alcohol/drinking, reader gets drunk on accident and is incredibly insecure and self-deprecating, I think that’s it

a/n: Thank you all for your patience and kind words in this really sad and weird moment of my life. This couple brings me so much joy and I’m absolutely dreading the hurt that’s coming in the next part. Sorry in advance 😭 But also, you can re-read Lighthouse and First of Many before the angst!!!!!! If you haven’t read those fics, I recommend it because there are some relevant connections. ♥️

Series Masterlist

———

Y/N felt his hands sneaking around her waist, rubbing low over her tummy, and then the press of his warm body along her back. She tilted her head to make room for him to settle his chin on her shoulder, smiling as his hands completed their journey and wrapped her up tight.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” she answered, pressing their cheeks together.

“Are you almost done?”

“You made quite the mess, doctor.” It was the last weekend of Spencer’s sabbatical, and he had spent the afternoon cooking all of her favorite foods— a sort of preemptive gift for when he was back on the BAU’s unpredictable schedule. She’d taken on the responsibility of the dishes in return, which was no easy undertaking considering it seemed as though he’d used every single pot, pan, and utensil in her kitchen.

“If you’d let me help, you’d be done by now,” he complained, hugging her a little tighter and turning his head to drag his lips across her cheek.

“Let me just finish this pan, and then I’m all yours.”

He pressed a kiss to her cheek, then another to the spot behind her ear, and one more to her shoulder. Then he propped his chin once more and rubbed his thumbs where they rested against her sides.

She laughed a little as she ran the dish brush along the edges of the pan. “Comfy?”

He hummed his confirmation, and she could feel his smile as she lathered the inside of the pan, then rinsed it, and finally drained the sink. She dried her hands on the kitchen towel and turned to face him. He didn’t remove his hands, instead just let them glide over her hips and then settle on her lower back.

“Thank you for all of that.” She gestured vaguely in the direction of the fridge, packed full of leftovers. “My mom will be so honored to know you made her pot pie.”

“I could eat it every day for the rest of my life and be very, very happy.” He dropped his gaze and his tongue darted out to wet his lips. “Speaking of moms, I… I was wondering if you, um— if you’d want to meet my mom?”

Her eyes went a little wide, and he took her silence as an answer, continuing, “You don’t have to. It—it’s too soon.”

She brought a hand up to cup his chin between her fingers, bringing his eyes back to hers. “I would love to meet your mom.”

…

Spencer shut off the engine of the Volvo, turning in his seat to face her. She tried to settle her nerves without also spurring his own anxiety, which had been quite obviously flaring all morning.

“I’ll check in and visit for a few minutes, try to gauge what kind of a day it is, and then I’ll text you to come in or not.” He ran a hand over his face. “I really should have had you drive separate, because if it’s not a good day I don’t want you to have to wait around while I visit with her, but she’s been having a lot of good days recently, and—”

“Honey.” She found his hands where they were clutching a little aggressively at his leg and covered them with her own, running her thumbs soothingly along his skin. “It’s okay. Either way— whether I meet her today or we wait for a better day— it’s okay.”

He closed his eyes and breathed a relieved sigh. “Have I told you how much I love you yet today?”

“Mm, I don’t think you have,” she smiled.

He brought her hands up to his mouth, kissing the back of each. “I love you so much. The most.”

“I beg to differ.” She leaned over the console and kissed his nose. “I definitely love you the most.”

“Agree to disagree.” He shifted to meet her lips in a quick kiss. “I’ll text you in a few minutes?”

She gave him another kiss. “Sounds like a plan.”

Spencer dropped the keys into her hand and then climbed out of the car, closing the door and practically trotting toward the building. She would have laughed if it weren’t for the raging anxiety that was nearly suffocating her. She opened her door and put her legs out the side of the car, taking a deep breath and looking out over the parking lot.

Y/N knew that meeting Diana was a good thing. That Spencer wanted her to meet the most important woman in his life was a testament to their relationship. But the closer she got to it, the more she felt completely and totally out of place. What did she have to offer this woman’s remarkable son other than a mountain of student loan debt, an endless supply of expo markers, and an ever growing collection of toilet paper rolls?

She loved teaching kindergarten, and she was the first to defend the profession in most settings. But she was about to be in a room with two of the most brilliant minds on the planet, and she couldn’t help but wonder what she would possibly have to contribute. More than that, what would Diana Reid think of her son settling for someone so… ordinary?

Her phone buzzed with the incoming text message, and she bit back a sigh.

Spencer: It’s an incredible day. She’s already asking about you.

Y/N turned her face up to the clear blue sky, feeling the sun on her face and taking a deep breath. Then, she hoisted herself out of the vehicle, locking it and turning to walk toward the building. DC was hot and sticky this time of year, and she was grateful for the blast of air conditioning as she entered the facility.

The woman at the front desk— Suzanna, by her name tag— smiled kindly at her. “How can I help you?”

“I’m, um— I’m here to visit with Diana Reid.” Y/N began signing into the visitor’s log, smiling a little at Spencer’s hasty signature right above. “Her son is here, too— Spencer.”

“Ah, yes, you must be Y/N. Diana’s been so excited to meet you.” Suzanna chuckled lightly at her expression, and Y/N wondered just how much everyone already knew about her. “They’re just through there— in the sunroom.”

Y/N mumbled her thanks and turned in the direction of the sunroom, smoothing a nonexistent wrinkle from the skirt of her dress. She’d spent far too long getting ready this morning, including steaming the dress— a simple number with a black bodice and a skirt covered in books. It was her own personal nod to the incredible legacy that Diana had left— not only as a professor of classic literature, but also as the mother of the most incredible reader— and man— she’d ever met.

And now she had a moment of panic, wondering if maybe it was too on the nose, or if Diana would think it was silly and immature. She briefly considered turning and heading back out to the parking lot, but then Spencer appeared in the doorway to the sunroom, waving his thanks to Suzanna and then positively beaming at her . How could she deny him this?

He held out his hand to her, and she accepted it, instantly more at ease from the simple touch. He pulled her gently into the room, and there was Diana, perched on a floral sofa and looking quite elegant in a soft purple shawl.

She stood immediately, an absolutely radiant smile stretching across her face at the sight of them. Y/N watched as she clasped her hands in front of her and felt Spencer squeeze her hand at the same time.

“Y/N,” Diana smiled. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Y/N returned her smile. “It is such an honor to finally meet you, Mrs. Reid.”

She scoffed and waved her hand. “Just Diana, please.” Y/N saw the moment she noticed the dress, her eyes crinkling a bit at the corners. “I can already tell you’re perfect for my son: the lover of books.” She motioned to the seating area. “Come, sit.”

The three of them sat, Spencer in the armchair just across from them as she and Diana sat on the sofa. Y/N folded her hands in her lap and tried to straighten her posture. Diana leaned back against the couch with a smile.

“I really have heard a lot about you,” she repeated, sliding her eyes over to a blushing Spencer. “Spencer tells me you teach kindergarten.” Y/N nodded, and Diana shook her head. “I deeply admire the patience and energy you must have for that age group.”

Y/N laughed a little. “They can certainly be a handful. I hear you were a teacher as well.” Her eyes went a little wide at her mistake. “A professor, I mean.”

“Oh, yes, yes— 15th century literature.” Diana tilted her head, considering Y/N with a knowing gaze. “But teaching is teaching, no matter the age. And where would any of us be without our kindergarten teachers? The ones who teach us the very foundations of learning. Who not only teach us to read and write, but also to inquire and investigate and discover.”

Y/N felt unexpected tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, and she had to take a moment to breathe before speaking. “Thank you for saying that. Sometimes people assume that kindergarten is all play doh and finger paint.”

“What’s that saying about making assumptions?” Diana pondered.

“Issac Asimov said, ‘Assumptions are our windows on the world,’” Spencer offered.

“Mm, thank you for that, honey, but the one I’m thinking of is from an episode of The Odd Couple , I believe,” Diana corrected, winking at Y/N. “When you assume, you make an ass of you and me.”

“Ah.” Spencer held back a laugh, and Y/N’s heart felt just a little bit lighter.

Diana smiled brightly at her. “Your students must absolutely adore you.” Diana gestured vaguely to Spencer before continuing, “Spencer loved his kindergarten teacher— hm, Mrs. Hudson, was it?”

Spencer nodded in confirmation. Diana looked back to Y/N with a slightly mischievous grin. “His report cards always came back with the note that he was ‘helping’ the other students just a little too much— always the professor, even at five years old.”

Spencer let out an indignant squeak, and Y/N laughed. “My parents got a very similar note.” She gave Spencer a smile. “We just couldn’t help it, apparently.”

“I’m sure it didn’t help that he’d been reading for three years before he was even enrolled,” Diana mused. “Did he tell you that he originally considered studying the classics?” Y/N shook her head. “Well. When you’ve already read and discussed all the course material, it seems a waste of money, doesn’t it?”

“Indeed, I suppose it does,” Y/N agreed.

“Oh,” Diana tapped Y/N’s arm affectionately before gesturing back to Spencer, “and then there was the time that he became so fixated on the idea of becoming a magician that he somehow managed to trap a rabbit in our backyard.”

“ Mom ,” Spencer choked out.

“Oh my. No, no— please go on,” Y/N begged, waving her hand dismissively in Spencer’s direction and leaning closer to Diana. “I need all the embarrassing stories.”

Diana let out a lilting laugh. “The poor thing spent the better part of a weekend in a storage bin while Spencer tried to figure out the top hat trick.”

Y/N turned to him with a bewildered grin. “The storage bin was well ventilated!” he defended. “And she had plenty of food and water.”

“Did you figure out the trick?” Y/N asked.

“No,” he admitted sheepishly. “Mom found out about the rabbit before I could. And you need more than just the hat for the trick anyway.”

“We fed her one last carrot and then sent her back out to be with the rest of her bunny family, who must have been missing her dearly.” Diana winked at Y/N. “At least that’s what I had to tell six year old Spencer.”

“Rabbits are incredibly social and live in large colonies, so that actually was most likely the case,” Spencer supplied.

Diana smiled fondly at her son, and Y/N could practically feel the love radiating off of her. “Either way, I had one very sad little boy for the next week or so.” She turned back to Y/N. “We actually took a break from some of the more... advanced reading material so that I could read him The Tale of Peter Rabbit .”

“A classic in its own right,” Y/N said.

Diana nodded. “I’ve always said that children’s literature encompasses some of the most profound and imaginative storytelling. We can learn a lot from Peter and Ferdinand.”

“I love Ferdinand!” Y/N gasped. “Gosh, that’s one of my all time favorite books. My mom read it to me when I was little, and I read it to my kids every year.”

Diana threw her hands up. “And that right there tells me everything I need to know about your teaching. Well— that and everything Spencer’s already gushed about, of course.”

The three of them spent the better part of the afternoon laughing and trading embarrassing childhood stories. Diana was even more lovely than she could have imagined, and Y/N was grateful to be so quickly accepted into the small but incredibly loving family unit.

Every so often, she would catch Spencer’s eyes on her— soft and content and practically sparkling— and her heart would leap into her throat. He was uncharacteristically quiet, letting Diana lead most of their side of the conversation, only chiming in here and there to offer context or defend himself in a particularly mortifying tale. Diana unwittingly (or perhaps purposefully) revealed just how much Spencer had spoken about her; she already knew about Y/N’s home, her family, and most of her interests.

Spencer may have been quiet, but he was also blushing profusely— caught in the act of being absolutely enamored with her. Y/N found that she didn’t know how to feel about that. She should be happy. She should be thrilled. And in some ways, she was. Being with Spencer had made her the happiest she’d been in a very long time— maybe ever.

It was the happiness that scared her.

She deserved happiness. That’s what Anita would tell her. But the way she felt with Spencer— comfortable, natural, easy — was the rising action. She was still anticipating the climax, the mountaintop, the apex of joy. She hated herself for it, but she couldn’t help it. She’d learned that every mountain had a valley, and the falling action always dragged her against every jagged stone on the way down. She never failed to plummet from the heights into the depths of where she’d learned to live, quiet and lonely and a little bit bruised.

This knowledge didn't stop her from soaking up every second of the highs.

“I’m starting to get a little tired,” Diana admitted. She reached across the couch and patted Y/N’s hand, squeezing gently, and then she looked to Spencer. “I start to— forget when I’m tired.”

The smile that had become almost permanent that afternoon faltered slightly, but he nodded and checked his watch. “Four hours is pretty good.”

She hummed. “They’ve been longer as of late.”

Y/N watched as his nose twitched. “Does Dr. Kincaid think that’s good or bad?”

Diana gave him a sympathetic smile. “She’s not sure.”

It was quiet for a long moment, and then Y/N stood. “Let me give you a minute together.” Diana stood as well, and Y/N clasped her hands together. “I don’t think I can articulate how incredibly happy I am to have finally met you. And I— I definitely don’t have the words to properly thank you for raising such a wonderful man.”

Diana took her hands, squeezing them gently before pulling her into a hug. Y/N returned the embrace, and Diana murmured, “Thank you for loving him. Through the highs and the lows.”

Y/N blinked back tears for the second time that day, nodding into Diana’s shoulder and hugging her tightly.

With a final squeeze, Diana released her, and Y/N excused herself back out into the foyer. She signed out of the visitor log and waved to a grinning Suzanna, and then headed outside to catch her breath. She made it to the car, unlocking it and settling into the passenger seat before leaning over to turn it on and get the windows rolled down.

Spencer emerged from the building, his hands in his pockets. He quickly made his way to the vehicle, practically running across the parking lot and sliding behind the wheel. Before she could even say anything, he was surging across the console to grab her face in his hands and pull her into a kiss.

She steadied herself with her hands on his chest, clutching at his shirt and returning the unexpected passion with a slightly bewildered smile. When he was finished, he pulled back to lean their foreheads together. She caught her breath and asked, “What was that for?”

“She loved you, and I love you, and I’m so glad you got to meet her.”

She could hear the emotion in his voice, and she slid her arms around his back, pulling him into a hug. “Me, too.”

He leaned into her for a minute longer, breathing into her hair and pressing another kiss to her shoulder. Then he pulled back, smiling widely. “How would you feel about meeting the other family?”

…

Spencer drove them to meet up with the team at O’Keefe’s, a favorite haunt of theirs on the evenings when they’d wrapped a case at a reasonable hour. They headed up the sidewalk hand in hand, with Y/N leaning a little into his side. She was feeling slightly more at ease this time around thanks to the buffer of knowing Penelope, Luke, and JJ already.

Spencer held the door open, trailing in behind her with a hand on her waist. She spotted Penelope’s bright green dress immediately, and Spencer raised his hand in greeting. The group gave them a raucous cheer, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile.

Spencer kept his hand on the small of her back as they approached the table. He greeted the group and then turned to Y/N, gesturing around the table. He introduced her to Tara, Matt, and Emily, the three of whom greeted her with warm handshakes. Penelope was practically vibrating with excitement as she scooped her up into a hug.

“Gosh dang it, you are just so cute ,” Penelope squeaked. She pulled back from the hug to take stock of Y/N’s outfit. “The books, I love it. And the shoes!”

Y/N laughed, twirling her ankle to show off the pink t-strap heels. “I’m definitely going to regret them in about an hour. But they look cute anyway.”

Tara sidled up to the two of them, raising her glass in solidarity. “Here’s to cute shoes and pinched toes.” She took a sip of her scotch and then turned to Y/N. “What’s your poison?”

“Oh, you don’t have to,” Y/N insisted.

Tara waved her hand and gestured to Spencer. “You got grandpa to come out to the bar. You’re not paying for a single drink tonight.”

“I come out with you guys!” he squeaked indignantly.

A chorus of exasperated groans made their way around the group, followed by good-natured laughs. Tara raised a single eyebrow in Spencer’s direction, and then turned her attention back to Y/N. “Like I said, you won’t need your wallet tonight. What’ll it be?”

…

She did not, in fact, have to reach for her wallet at all that evening. Between the seven of them, Y/N’s cup was always full and her smile was nearly permanent. She heard endless stories about Spencer, complete with photo evidence— much to his dismay.

She learned that Tara had a doctorate in forensic psychology, and Emily had worked internationally for years becoming the Unit Chief of the BAU. Luke had been an Army Ranger and a member of the Fugitive Task Force, and Matt had traveled the globe with the International Response Team.

They were all incredibly kind, asking about her family and her work, listening with interest as she recounted growing up on a farm and her days spent teaching kindergarten. Despite their apparent interest, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a little… silly. Stories of field trips and finger painting felt incredibly juvenile in comparison to the lived experiences of this remarkable team of people.

She did her best to steer the conversation back to the team whenever possible, which in some ways made the whole thing worse. But she managed to keep a smile for the evening, and she lost track of how many drinks made their way down the hatch. Luke ordered an assortment of snack foods for the group, and she gratefully accepted a few fries and a mozzarella stick to soak up some of the alcohol sloshing around in her stomach. At some point Spencer returned from the bar with an extra glass of water, sliding it her way with a knowing smile and a press of his lips to her cheek.

Eventually, Y/N had to excuse herself to the bathroom, patting Spencer’s arm and carefully navigating the dim bar. In the way that it so often did, the level of her intoxication made itself abundantly clear in the harsh lighting of the restroom. She stumbled out of the stall to wash her hands, using the countertop for balance and cursing under her breath.

She raised her head to analyze her appearance, groaning a little at the smudge of mascara under her eyes. As she swiped at the black rings, she considered that she had never quite figured out the ideal amount of alcohol— somehow always managing to get a little too drunk. And now she was too drunk in front of all of Spencer’s friends— his family.

Not only that, but for the second time today, she couldn’t help but feel so overwhelmingly ordinary . Surrounded by the team, all extraordinary and awe-inspiring in their own right, she was… plain, unaccomplished, boring . Spencer had called her remarkable; she felt anything but.

She closed her eyes against the tears that were threatening to spill over, remembering the last time she’d cried in a bar bathroom. She’d spent that evening wondering what was wrong with her… wondering if she deserved to have someone like Spencer at all.

“That’s just… the alcohol talking,” she reminded herself out loud into the empty bathroom. She stared at herself in the mirror. “Stop bein’ a weirdo.”

She pushed out of the bathroom and back into the bar, walking a little more cautiously as the alcohol started to course through her bloodstream. As she approached the group again, Spencer’s eyes found her immediately, and he reached for her, pulling her underneath his arm and into his side. He brought his mouth close to her ear and murmured, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just—” She slid her hand around his waist to keep herself steady. “Just more tipsy than I thought.”

He ran a soothing hand along her arm. “Do you wanna go home?”

She shook her head. “No, no— ‘M fine. ‘S nice to be with your friends.”

“You’re sure?” He squeezed her shoulder and lowered his voice. “Because honestly I’m kind of ready to go.”

She looked up from where her head was resting on his chest to see him smiling softly at her. “Whatever you want.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and then turned back to the team and cleared his throat. “We’re gonna head out.”

Tara made a show of checking her watch. “10:45? I’m surprised you stayed this long, old man.”

…

Y/N’s eyes opened slowly and came into focus as Spencer’s car came to a stop outside her apartment. “Why’re we here?”

Spencer shut off the ignition and pulled out the key with a small smile. “I have a feeling you’re going to feel… less than stellar tomorrow. I thought you might like to wake up in your own bed. Hang on.”

He climbed out of the vehicle and closed the door before coming around to her side. She could feel the tears welling up as she fumbled with the buckle on her seatbelt. Everything was a little uncoordinated, and she felt absolutely ridiculous.

The door opened, and she carefully swung her legs out one at a time. Spencer stood slightly to the side, and she knew she should hurry up and let him get home, but she didn’t move to get up.

“Do you need help?”

She shook her head, and the action sent a tear rolling over her bottom lash line. She tried to swipe it away, but of course Spencer caught it.

“Hey— what’s wrong?” he asked gently.

She sniffed. “Are you just dropping me off?”

He cupped a hand underneath her chin to tilt her eyes upward, and his eyes were soft but concerned. “I was planning to come upstairs with you. Unless you don’t want me to.”

She shook her head. “No, I— you can come upstairs.”

“Okay.” Spencer cocked his head. “Honey, what’s going on?”

Y/N didn’t know where to begin. She was drowning in self-doubt— had been since about the one month mark. It seemed that every day there was something new to feel insecure about. The confidence she’d had on his doorstep in March was nowhere to be found.

That was too much for her slow moving brain to articulate at the moment, so she settled on: “They’re all so smart and funny and cool and interesting.”

“Okay…” he prompted.

“And I’m not,” she admitted.

His mouth turned quickly down. “That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is,” she insisted. “I’m just— a kindergarten teacher and I— I don’t have any cool skills or stories, and I don’t even have any muscles, and they’re all so pretty —”

“Hey, stop— stop.” Spencer squatted down to be eye-level with her. “First of all, you’re not ‘just’ anything. And you’re my favorite kindergarten teacher and the best one I know.” He grabbed her hand and laced their fingers together. “You have lots of cool skills and stories. And I don’t have any muscles either.”

She lifted her free hand to squeeze his bicep. “Yes, you do.”

“Muscles are overrated.” He smiled and brought a hand to her face, smoothing her hair back and then letting his fingers linger on her cheek. “And frankly, pretty is too mundane a term to describe you. I’d go with something like radiant, or ethereal, or incandescent.”

“You have to s‘plain your jokes to me,” she slurred, swiping her forearm under her nose.

“Not always. And besides, I have to explain my jokes to basically everyone,” he reminded her. He squeezed her hand. “But unlike everyone else, you let me explain them to you. And you actually listen to the explanation.” He shrugged. “I think I like that more than I like telling the joke.”

She was quiet then, eyes focused on a particularly interesting piece of loose gravel. She knew the list of her flaws was longer, but her brain couldn’t string them together in her current state.

Spencer shuffled closer and waited patiently until she finally looked at him before continuing.

“I love you. And not because of your job, or your cool stories, or your muscles,” he clarified. “I love you because you’re you. And, a little selfishly, because I love the person that I am when I’m with you. Okay?”

He smiled tentatively, and she let out a long breath. “Okay.”

He leaned forward and kissed her nose. “Now, come on. Let’s get inside.”

Spencer helped her navigate up the walkway and the three flights of stairs. Rather than rummage drunkenly through her purse, she passed it off and allowed him to retrieve her keys and unlock the door.

He supervised and provided balance support as she haphazardly swiped a makeup wipe over her face and fumbled into her pajamas. Finally he got her settled into bed with a bottle of water on the bedside table.

He pulled up the covers around her. “I’m going to go to the bathroom,” he murmured.

This was the moment that he’d realize what an absolute fool she was. He’d finally be alone in the bathroom, and it would become abundantly clear that she couldn’t drink responsibly, that she was boring, that she was obnoxious. She was sure of it, and her heart was fracturing into a thousand tiny pieces.

Spencer’s nervous laugh broke through her haze of insecurity. “Whoa, I thought we were done crying?” he joked. “Honey, c’mere.” Spencer pulled her up into his arms, rubbing a hand over her back.

She hadn’t realized she was making any noise until the sound vibrated against where Spencer had tucked her into his shoulder. As if she hadn’t been foolish enough tonight, now she was blubbering into his nice cardigan. Despite herself, she clung to him like he’d disappear like smoke between her fingers.

“I’m— I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed; it’s not funny,” he apologized. “Shhh, sweetheart . It— it’s okay, it’s okay .”

“I don’t want you to go.” Her voice was full of tears and cracked pathetically at the end.

“Okay, okay,” he agreed, a tinge of confusion in his voice. “I’m— the bathroom can wait, I suppose.”

That only made her cry harder, which poor Spencer responded to with even more aggressive soothing. He stroked over her hair and hugged her tight, shushing her and rocking her a little bit back and forth.

He was just so sweet . Kind and thoughtful and considerate— three things she hadn’t experienced from a significant other in a very long time. And it was exhausting waiting for the shift— for the moment that he realized she wasn’t worth the hassle. She was so tired of anticipating the end.

“I don’t want you to leave.” She hated how ridiculous she sounded, gasping and hiccuping.

Spencer froze for a full second and then squeezed her impossibly tighter. “I’m not. Baby, I’m not. I am right here.” He stroked a firm hand up and down her spine. “I need you to take some deep breaths with me. I’m gonna do it, too, okay?”

He led her in a series of deep inhalations and long exhales to the rhythm of his palm on her back. He murmured quietly to her, reassurances and promises and love. As her breathing came closer to normal, he pressed a soft kiss into her hair.

“I love you, Y/N. You know that, right? I wouldn’t change one single thing about you.” His hand on her back slowed to a stop, and she could practically hear him considering his next move. “I’m pretty sure Billy Joel wrote a song about it, actually. I love you just the way you are. ”

She couldn’t stop the laugh from bubbling up in her throat at the tone deaf melody, and she felt him smile against her hair. “Okay?”

She wasn’t okay, but that wasn’t his fault. She sighed and sniffed. “Okay, off brand Billy Joel.”

“That’s not very nice,” he chuckled, pulling back to swipe his fingers over her damp cheeks.

“Yes, it is,” she insisted. “I love off brand. Just as good as the real thing, and with some fun quirks.”

“Somehow I don’t think he’d appreciate the comparison.” He smiled softly at her, and then his expression melted into something a little more serious. “But I mean it. There is no place I’d rather be, and no one else that I wanna be with. When I say that I love you the most, I mean that I love you more than I have ever loved anybody. Ever.”

He looked at her so earnestly that she wanted to cry all over again. How was he so wonderful, and gentle, and loving, and perfect ? He’d promised to do better on a chilly night in January and then spent every single day since then doing exactly that.

“But I actually do have to pee,” he admitted sheepishly. “Are you going to be okay here for a few minutes?”

He was speaking to her as he would a child, and she was utterly mortified. She waved her hand. “ God , I’m bein’ so annoying.”

“No, you’re not. You’re a little drunk. And a lot adorable.” He tapped gently on her nose. “But you’re also kind of sad, and I don’t want you to be sad.” He propped the pillow up behind her. “It’ll be the fastest pee ever— four minutes, tops. Most of it will be hand washing. Okay?"

“Okay,” she smiled, and she really meant it.

He hopped up and trotted to the bedroom door. “See you in four minutes. Have some water while you wait.”

She followed instructions, sipping carefully from the bottle he’d left for her. She also rummaged through the bedside drawer for the Advil, popping two and washing them down with another swig of water.

Spencer returned to the bedroom with his cardigan and pants already discarded. He quickly slipped out of his button up and into his pajamas before sliding in beside her and holding out his arms. “All right, c’mere.”

“Hmm?” she hummed.

“I’m demanding snuggles,” he clarified. “That’s the price you pay for my chauffeur and caretaker services.”

Another smile slowly turned up the corners of her mouth, and he returned it, pulling her against his side. “There she is.”

She allowed herself to settle and melt into his warmth, the soft fabric of his t-shirt under her cheek and his fingers brushing lightly over her arm. She willed herself to stop waiting for the shift. She begged herself to stop looking for the end.

Maybe this time there wouldn’t be an end. Maybe she could have an infinite middle with Spencer Reid. Maybe she had earned that.

———

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hearthandhomemagick · 3 years

Text

Cottage Witch Journal Entry

I have a longing for Tennessee.

I have a pure, unadulterated and wild attraction to the Tennessee Mountains. This is a dream I’ve had, and a yearning I’ve felt, for years. A need to be hidden deep in the mountains in a tiny cottage/cabin of sorts. I’m sure this is an affinity very popular in mainstream culture today, and all I can think of when I hear people say they want a cottage or cabin in the mountains is, “How the Hell does everyone expect to FIT on these mountains?!” But, this is my Shadow Self, the over realistic and overthinking side of myself. And I easily get discouraged from my own wants thinking of others wants.

This is a side of me to notice in myself. I need to be able to move past thoughts of, “If everyone wants it, I’ll never have it.” and move forward with thoughts of, “This is something I want for myself, and I deserve to work hard for it.” And that’s a goal I have with myself.

You see, this post isn’t just about my want to be in Tennessee in the woods, it’s much deeper than that I feel. It’s about improvement and wanting to grow.

I bring up Tennessee because that is not a goal I can easily obtain within a couple of weeks or even a month. But, it is something I want to build up to obtaining. Something I want to do right so that everything is exactly as it needs to be. And I can’t fully accomplish this until I accomplish other goals that take precedent first. For Example, my physical health.

As a witch, I truly believe in loving every part of yourself, the good and the bad. The exciting and the terrifying. The understood and the neglected. Part of this acceptance process is learning what is and is not acceptable for my body. Now, I have struggled with my weight and how I see myself since I was a child. I remember a little boy seeing my tummy in a bathing suit in 1st grade and him telling me I was fat and that his dad said fat girls were ugly. Comments like this, stares and whispers were constant when in regards to my weight. It felt like an overwhelming amount of attention was directed at the way I looked, even if no one was looking at me I felt as though everyone was thinking about it. Over the years, this mental state took a tole on a lot more than I expected, even affecting me today with my Significant Other. The consistent attention to my own weight pulled me into depression, our of depression, into anxiety and out of anxiety. What I mean is I had an up and down relationship with my tummy.

I felt abandoned most days. I would get this idea that I was too much and not enough all at once. A gentle and cooing tone from my toxic thoughts led to a lot of issues and concerns for me and my health. Some days, I would read something that made me feel as though I was a Queen. A bad bitch lurking in this cruel world and taking it by the throat to stare it in the eyes and say, “I love my body fat.”

The sad part is your heart, mind and body know when you are lying to it. I didn’t love my body. Not in those confident moments and not in those depressed moments. I was locked away in a cage in my mind that gave me two illusions to choose from, while hiding my third option under the rug. I neglected my feelings because I didn’t want to experience them. I neglected my health because I didn’t want to deal with it. And I neglected my body because I hated it.

Reality here is that this is the only fucking body I have. Do you understand that? Let me repeat this so maybe you can understand how harsh of a reality this was to me.

I am on this Earth for goodness knows how long. 50 years, 20 years, 72 days. I don’t know, and no one does. I was literally forced into owning this body, whether I like it or not, it is mine. I can move houses, I can get a new car, I can get a new job. I cannot get a new body.

I heard this in High School and started what I called my weight loss journey. I lost maybe 20 pounds while attending a workout-boot camp of sorts and trying to maintain a healthy diet. That sentence resonated so much with me that I repeated it every day to myself. My motivation was on point. Then, I stopped going. There are multiple reasons why I stopped, but none of them are rightful excuses.

I just stopped.

Now, during those days I had lost weight, I was starting to gain confidence in myself and was attempting to genuinely look out for my health. I had more energy and felt amazing! But like I said, I had stopped for terrible reasons.

Fast-forward to college and you will find a very anxiety filled, sleep deprived and mentally exhausted Carly. Some nights I wouldn’t sleep but for 4-5 hours. Other nights I didn’t sleep at all. I believe my stay up streak was 3, going on 4 nights. All due to homework. My coping technique has always been eating food, too. So when you have a sleep deprived student settled next to a 24/7 pizza joint with half baked cookies, you gain 30-40 pounds.

At 245 Pounds, I was at my heaviest. This weight gain came on as my roommates were saying I was fat, stupid and were making me question myself frequently. Self hate festers among others who don’t value your worth, remember that. So, through those years of college I weighed an uncomfortable amount of weight that made my body start shutting down physically.

Mental Health had a lot to do with my physical health, here as well. When I was in a really bad place, I would stop moving completely and just sit still. If I had a terrible feeling, I’d cook something to make myself feel better or would just grab a processed, quick snack. It was a pattern of mine. I’d get just enough motivation to do one or two things, and then I’d stop all together and feel as though that was enough for a few weeks.

Eventually, when I was done with college, I started back on that rollercoaster of healthy and unhealthy. I’d lose 5 pounds, then gain 7 pounds right back. I started detail critiquing myself and stressing myself out. My weight never could get under control, and I couldn’t break the 200 mark to save my life. I would see pictures and videos of myself and feel as though I had eaten an entire buffet. Not too long after getting with my S/O and starting my job as a Sexual Violence Outreach Advocate, I got sick.

It started as a birthday dinner at a Korean Barbecue in 2019. I was with my two best friends at the time and having a blast. We all ate the same food, but when I woke up the following morning I was throwing up everything in my tummy.

The throwing up went on for 4 days before I was taken to the hospital, only for them to release me saying it was virus. My personal doctor couldn’t figure out what was wrong and it eventually became an everyday thing. I would wake up between 3-6 in the morning, go to the bathroom and be sick for hours before pulling myself together to make it to work.

Weeks turned into months, and months turned into a year.

I lost 50 pounds from this thing that no doctor could seem to figure out. I got x-rays and everything, but nothing and no one could tell me exactly what was going on with me. I couldn’t eat anything friend, only raw fruits and veggies, or broth. I only drank water and ginger based drinks, and could not for the life of me stop what was going on with my body. Many doctors tried to pass it as a virus, stomach ulcers, GURD, or even Heart Burn (?). None of them were right.

After a long time, my mom finally confessed that every woman in our family has Endometriosis. If you don’t know what this is, it is the build up of scar tissue on the outside of your uterus. This leads to nausea, ovarian cysts (which they found on me in x-rays) and sub or infertility. No doctor can diagnose it, either, unless you have a surgery to see if there is scarring. So for many, suffering on your own is easier than seeing a doctor.

I discussed this with my doctor, and it was as if a light flashed in her brain. This is a disease she cannot say I have, but can say it sounds very much like that. It is hereditary and once you have it, you have it for good.

After this information entered my line of though, I decided the stress from my job was too much for too little pay, and chose to leave. Leading up to my leaving the job, I was sick almost every second of every day. The moment I left, I felt better.

I still feel pain in my ovary area, but because I don’t have the money to see a doctor, and can control my pains with eating habits and physical influence, I choose to work through it alone.

I said ALL THAT BACKGROUND BULLSHIT JUST TO SAY THIS!!!!!

This is the part that marks my new journey. It is the Journey to Strength and Well Being. The Journey to Feeling Good. The Journey the Choosing my happiness over anything else. And the Journey to choosing the health of my body over my insecurities.

I wrote this because a couple of days ago I had a very graphic and vivid dream about my boyfriend falling in love with the woman I wanted to be. In other words, I seen him with a woman who literally presented all of my insecurities to me. Small, lithe and dainty, gentle and calming, and everything I wasn’t. She was beautiful. And he seen this, and did things for her that he never did for me. I woke up almost in tears, because my emotions were raw, but I had no idea that my insecurities were still very deeply rooted.

I pondered over the last few days of this dream. What it could mean, what I should do, how I should feel and I have finally come to a conclusion.

This dream is a depiction of my fears. My brain was saying, “You need to address this shit right now.” and did it in the most face slap kind of way I could think.

I still, even after learning to love myself genuinely, have image issues that need to be nurtured and tended to before I can move forward in my life.

So, I’m making 1-3 goals every month that are attainable and reachable. This will be a brick road to my obtaining that cottage/cabin in the Tennessee Mountains.

This months Goals start today!

GOAL 1 - Learn to do a split, find a healthy yoga sequence, be able to do 15 pushups, & 30 Squats by the end of December.

GOAL 2 - Make a conscious effort to what you eat/making a new dish once a week to try.

GOAL 3 - Save $100.

This is a process, and I am only human. I don’t want to fall back into the habits of toxic mentality. I don’t want to neglect myself or how I feel and I don’t want to lose myself in to the world in the process of searching for freedom from myself.

I expect myself to exude self control, self love, and empowerment. I expect to expect better from and for myself, and I expect to accomplish my goals.

I manifest it here, I can do a split. I have a healthy maintainable yoga sequence that I have committed to growing expanding and changing. I can do 15 push ups and 30 squats. I have 100 dollars saved up already and make concious decisions that better my health rather than hurt it. This is part of my lifstyle now!

And it is for the better!

Thank you to anyone who read this through. These entries are more for my benefit and thought process, but appreciate anyone who recognizes it or even relates and wants to talk about it. It’s personal to me and means a lot. I intend on being on here more often to update my challenges and express how I use my witchcraft in the process of this Journey.

I love you all! Stay safe, warm and full to the brim! Later Witches! xx

#yule #witch #witchcraft #thinspo #healthy #yoga #workout #food #meal #habit #mentalhealth #comfort #hygge #cute #fun #craft #magic #magick #happy #storyline #witchjournal #journal #writing #creative

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melonkooky · 5 years

Text

bibimbap [lee taeyong]

requested

word count: 1864

genre: chef!teacher!taeyong, cooking!au, fluff

author’s note: i really hope this is what you were looking for (you were talking about nct’s taeyong, right? is there another taeyong i don’t know about? this is my anxiety and overthinking talking...)! 💕 also, this is based off of nct life where they all learned how to cook that one dish. i tried 😅😂

please do not copy my work. but please like and reblog it. thank you!!!!

masterlist

you looked down at the pamphlet in your shaking hands. you were a little nervous. after all, this was your first cooking class. you decided to do it because after having your mom over to your new apartment after starting adulthood, you found out that you weren't the most excellent chef. in fact, you only new a few basic meals here and there. but how were those simple meals going to keep you alive? and your mom wasn't going to be there all the time to help you cook. so, after coming across the pamphlet one day, you decided that it would be best to expand your knowledge of cooking.

you entered the building that matched the address number on the pamphlet. it said it was on the third floor and there didn't seem to be any elevators in the small building. as much as you didn't want to climb two flights of stairs, you dragged your feet over to the steps and began to ascend to the third floor. you encountered a few people on your way up. they were probably going to the cooking class as well.

a few minutes later, you arrived to the third floor, walking behind an older lady. you followed her to a door only a few feet away, where she opened it. you followed her inside and gasped at the sight. the room was absolutely beautiful. it was aesthetically pleasing with light wood and white counter tops. there were a total of seven stations, one being at the center of the room, probably where the chef teacher goes. you gulped anxiously, your eyes bouncing around at all the people in the room. old and young couples as well as friends and family scattered the room, to which you came to the conclusion that you were single and by yourself. you were already nervous as it is!

you hurried over the the very last row and to the farthest corner before anyone else could take it. it eased your nervously. you removed your coat and grabbed the available apron that was placed in the corner of your cooking station. you kept a watchful eye on everyone. they all seemed excited and were happily talking to their significant other, friend, or family. you shook your head. i'll be just fine. it'll be over before i know it and i'll leave with a new dish to cook at home, you thought to yourself.

after everyone settled, two young males entered the room. you looked around. there weren't any cooking stations available. well, no need to worry because they actually were the instructors.

"hello, everyone." the first one greeted as he put on his apron. "my name is jaehyun and i'm one of the teachers."

the other one waved and flashed a shy smile. as soon as your eyes laid on the second teacher, like a spontaneous reaction, your heart began to pound. you felt the feeling of heat in your cheeks and you blinked, looking away from the handsomely cute man. you attempted to calm your sudden feelings, but his voice just made you melt. "and i'm taeyong. i'll be helping today."

everyone greeted the teachers before quieting down in order to listen and pay attention. you couldn't stop yourself from glancing at taeyong. "so today, we're going to make bibimbap. it's a rather popular and easy dish to make." jaehyun introduced.

"yeah, so we're going to start by gathering the ingredients. there's cabinets and a small fridge at each of your stations. the ingredients as well as the materials necessary should already be provided."

as taeyong was explaining the ingredients, you peeked down at the cabinets at your own station. you didn't even realize the fridge that was down there, it's clear door allowing you to see vegetables and eggs amongst other ingredients. curiously, you bent down and opened a door. inside was various pots and pans.

you stood up when they began talking again. taeyong and jaehyun first demonstrated the first step to making bibimbap before letting everyone start. you pulled out the ingredients the teachers said were needed. then you pulled out which pots and pans that you were going to use. you were a little on the inexperienced side of cooking. watching jaehyun and taeyong cook, obviously knowing what they were doing, you felt a little helpless. but you couldn't give up. no, your survival was on the line. if you learn how to cook more dishes - or rather just learn how to cook - you'll be able to call yourself independent, you would officially be able to live on your own without anyone's help.

you recalled the very first steps to cooking bibimbap, which was to cook the rice. you measured the designated amount of rice and then placed it in the rice cooker, setting the time. but before you pressed the cook button, you had second thoughts. did you have the right time? now you were confused. you stared at everyone else's rice cookers but you couldn't tell what they had. you sighed and stared at your rice cooker once more, until a voice made you jump. you whipped your head around to your right to see taeyong. "do you need any help?" he asked.

you blushed, both out of embarrassment and out of your growing crush on him. you met his soft gaze, causing your stomach to flip. you smiled embarrassingly, "um, what was the time i needed to set on the rice cooker?"

he smiled and walked around your station. you watched as he stood next to you, leaning over slightly to help you set the designated timer. you blush even more, and prayed that your cheeks weren't as red as they felt. his shoulder brushed your own as he stood up straight again. "there. now you just have to chop up all the ingredients." he explained.

you nodded, but your gaze was dreamy. you stared at taeyong now that you had a chance to see him up close. taeyong smiled shyly, laughing at your expression. you blinked out of your daze. "wait, did you say something?"

he nodded. "yeah. i'll just help you."

you looked down at your station and all the food that you had spread out amongst the surface. then you looked at everyone else's stations to see that everyone else had moved on and were beginning to cook. you had only started the rice. "d-don't you need to help the others though?"

taeyong shrugged, turning around as he did so. "jaehyun seems to be doing just fine." you followed taeyong's gaze to see jaehyun explaining some tips to the older woman you happened to follow earlier.

"o-oh."

"let me help you. let's cut the carrots first."

you nodded and grabbed some carrots. you approached the sink and found yourself next to taeyong who now had the cutting board placed in front of him. he was dangerously close to you. he stood so close, you honestly wondered if he could hear your heartbeat. while it was beating loudly and was close to beat out of your rib cage, your stomach was doing somersaults. you were falling for your cooking teacher!

both he and jaehyun seemed to be around your age, they both were quite young. you began washing some of the carrots, but it wasn't long before you were looking up to glance at taeyong once more. you were intrigued by his looks and how cute he looked. you noticed that his jawline was exceptionally sharp, and his hair was slightly messy. it was an ashy gray color. and his eyes, looking... his eyes were trained on you. taeyong was looking at you!

you blushed and hurriedly finished washing the carrots. you began to worry if he was judging you for your lack of knowledge of cooking, or that you were slow and shy. waving all your insecure thoughts away, you smiled proudly as you placed the freshly washed carrots down. "great." he said, picking up a sharp knife. "i'll cut these and you can wash all the other ingredients."

you nodded and did as he instructed.

even though taeyong was the teacher and was supposed to be helping the others, he remained at your station. in the end, you became his assistant. he asked you to wash or grab certain things while he actually measured, prepared, and cooked the dish. he had you watch him and gave you instructions on how to cook. he even gave you a tip. "you don't always have to follow the instructions. sometimes, you can pull your own twist and add your own ingredients, ones that you enjoy. you can make the meal your own."

you felt inspired by taeyong's knowledge of cooking, and you admired the extent of how much he knew compared to how young he was. you were just falling deeper and deeper. after an hour, the end was near. taeyong had finished cooking the meal and was preparing the final product. you were amazed at how delicious the bibimbap looked. "wow." you mumbled quietly as taeyong did the final step. now the dish looked presentable and was ready to be eaten.

he smiled and little did you know, he blushed. your gaze was on the food but had you looked at taeyong, you would notice the pink tint in his cheeks. he watched your face as you looked at the meal. how could you possibly be so cute?

just then, jaehyun's voice rang throughout the entire floor. "alright, everyone should be finishing up and presenting their final products. we have reached the end of this class."

your mood dropped. time had went by so quick.

finally, after the meals were eaten, everyone began to slip their jackets on, thank the teachers, and leave the floor. you took your time until the point where you were the last one leaving. jaehyun was on his way to the door when he turned around. "hey, taeyong, are you coming?"

you immediately looked around to see that taeyong was still in the front of the classroom. his coat was on but he seemed to be waiting. you blushed a bit, hearing him reply, "you go ahead. i actually have something to do right now."

you hurriedly put your coat on and grabbed your bag. you gulped heavily, not liking the awkward and eerie silence of the atmosphere. you left your station. you found yourself keeping your pace slow as you made your way to taeyong. "hey." he called, before you can hurry out of the room.

you looked up at him. "yeah?"

he looked down at his cooking station, his hands resting on the surface. he was blushing and honestly just by how adorable he looked in this moment, your heart was close to bursting. "i didn't get your name." he said.

you laughed shyly. "i'm y/n."

"y/n." he repeated. "well, y/n, do you want to go out with me...right now?"

you stared into his eyes, admiring the loving and soft gaze he held. a million thoughts ran through your head. you had came today hoping to learn a new dish. you didn't know that you would find someone, someone that would be interested in you. taeyong was adorable and seemed genuinely kind-hearted. you nodded, your teeth finding your bottom lip, and with a wide grin on your face, you responded, "yeah. i do."

#nct #nct u #nct 127 #nct lee taeyong #nct taeyong #lee taeyong #taeyong #nct one shot #nct au #nct fluff #taeyong one shot #nct imagine #nct scenario #kpop

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4jimin · 7 years

Text

Lost Stars

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook and Park Jimin / Jikook Genre: fluff and angst, friends to lovers, canon compliant Length: 25k words, oneshot | crossposted on ao3 Warnings: homophobia, biphobia, swearing, jealousy (not the toxic kind tho, more like insecurity) A/N: i swear this is not as shallow as the summary might seem ps: shout out to my best friend, this story would never happen without your encouragement, you're the real mvp man asjdjfk i lov u vivi

Summary: Park Jimin has another maknae in his life and Jeon Jungkook is completely losing it.

The moon was high up in the night sky – Jimin observed while resting on the couch in front of the window. He was talking with Jungkook and Taehyung just minutes ago, about animes and stuff, but they got suddenly excited about one in specific with aliens and robots Jimin had zero interest in. He wanted to talk about the things he liked, but recently it wasn’t being the same things Taehyung and Jungkook enjoyed anymore. He still tried though. “Hey, have you catched up with One Piece?!”, he asked excited to talk about the new arc coming. “Sorry Chim, still on Alabasta.”, Taehyung genuinely apologized with his eyes and Jungkook said nothing, just gave him a mere shake of head, showing him he hadn't. After that, Jimin got silent and started looking outside the window, watching people move around hidden in their big coats, trying to escape from the freezing winter of Seoul. Somehow, thinking about the weather, brought back old memories of warm sunlights and fresh winds blowing his hair as his feet sinked in the soft sands of Busan's beaches. The smell of his mother’s cookies were vivid in his mind – he always ate them with the most delicious cream to ever exist, made obviously by his incredible mother. He remembers treasuring her and her food so much, one day she asked him if he wanted to learn. Jimin answered a fast and excited 'of course', but in the end of the day the excitement had been replaced by a pout and an angry face, because he burnt all of his food. “I can't do anything right”, Jimin remembers himself saying with his arms crossed on his chest, close to tears. “I'm sorry for letting you down, mom.” He was eight. “Hey, hey, hey.” his mother approached him with the sweetest eyes Jimin had ever met and with the most tender voice. “Don't say that. You're my precious boy, you're never letting me down. It wasn’t your fault, it was this stupid oven that burn all your cookies without your permission,”, she brushed her fingers through Jimin's hair, relaxing him. “right?” The boy nodded slowly. “Guess you're right...”, he murmured in a low tone, but then looked up to his mother and gave her the moon-shaped smile, making her heart instantly melt at the sight. “Thank you, mommy– mom.”, Jimin was trying to sound like a grown up boy, because he didn’t want to be seen as a baby anymore. But that wasn't stopping him from showing affection to the woman he loved the most in the world. He closed his short arms around her shoulder and pecked her on the cheek. “I love you.” Jimin sinked himself even more on the couch under him, hugging a pillow against his chest. He never felt alone back at home. He let out a sigh escape from his mouth and silently headed to the kitchen, but the hyungs were there also talking about things he didn’t want to know. The feeling of being displaced started growing in his stomach. An inner voice whispering resounded in his mind. You don't belong here. You never did. Jimin glanced at the watch and realized it was almost seven. No one would notice if he skipped only one meal to practice, right? He could pretend he ate. He had nothing to do there anyway. He grabbed his coach and stepped out into the cold night. While breathing that charecteristic scent of Seoul's winter, Jimin thought he had never felt more lonely.

•••

"Where's Jimin-hyung?" Jungkook asked, noticing the boy's absence. "Huh?" Taehyung looked around. "Wasn't he here just a minute ago? Oi! Is Jimin over there?" Hoseok's head popped out the kitchen's door. "Oh? I thought he was with you guys? Isn't he in his bedroom?" Jungkook bit the inner part of his bottom lip and whispered more to himself than to anyone, "I think he got bored with us...", but Taehyung listened. He said nothing though, because he knew Jungkook was probably right. "Go see if he's over there and tell him to change in twenty. We're having dinner out today!", Namjoon's voice was heard from the other room. "That's right, this handsome chef is not cooking for you kids today!" Seokjin said out loud. "I'll go.", Jungkook offered himself and quickly got up from his seat. He made his way to Jimin's shared room and knocked on the door. Silence. He knocked again, but got no answer. Jungkook didn’t know why he had that uncomfortable feeling settled in his chest, but he did know he had to see Jimin's face to make sure he was alright. It was just so not like him to quietly head to his room and lock himself over there. And also the thing was, Jimin was almost never quiet. Not that he was always loud like Hoseok, but wherever Jimin went to there would also have giggles, smiles and a warm atmosphere around it. But in that moment, it was just cold. "Hyung? You okay?", Jungkook slowly opened the door and was welcomed by both the darkness and the silence in the room. There was no one there. He turned around to check the bathroom – also empty. "Mhm... Jimin-hyung's not here." "Hah?", Hoseok exclaimed, "He left without saying a word?! Is he crazy? That's not normal of him to do." Jungkook quietly nodded. He was about to suggest someone to call Jimin, but Yoongi was already doing that, so he just stayed quiet. Almost a minute had passed and the signs of irritation were already starting to appear on Yoongi's face, when his brows rose slightly and he exclaimed a soft “oh”. "Hey, where are you?!", everyone's attention turned to the black haired boy with pale skin, "What? On our day off? Are you crazy?", Jungkook tried to put together the pieces and assumed Jimin was probably on the studio practicing. He sighed. Jimin almost never practiced alone – only when he was upset. "So come back home! We're eating out today. Huh? You already ate? Where?", there was a pause and then Yoongi's expression changed, "Oh, really? And what was that stammering about? Yeah. Exactly. Stop bullshiting me, Park Jimin, to hell if you think you're skipping meals again.", Jungkook pictured Jimin trying to defend himself – because that's what he always did when accused of not eating, since this behavior put him on a hospital once –, but apparently Yoongi wasn’t having any of it, "Yes, you are! You're eating with us tonight, it's decided. N– No! There's no arguing here. Jimin, I said there's no arguing! And if you don't show up at Manabu's restaurant by eight I'm going to go myself over there just to bring you by the ear, do you hear me? Yeah, yeah. Bye.", he hung up murmuring, "Aish, these kids." Yoongi started telling what Jimin had told him – in fact, practicing in the studio –, but Jungkook was not entirely listening. He was trying to skip meals again. He bit his lip, a little – a lot – worried. Jimin would take care of him all the time, but when it was Jungkook's turn to do the same he'd never know what to do or how to act. He really liked Jimin, but being around him always made him nervous in some way – even though he didn't know exactly why –, so most of times they were together, he ended up acting weird or just simply ignoring him. It wasn’t on purpose or an attempt to make Jimin feel bad or sad – it was so not that. What happened was Jungkook didn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of Jimin. All the child-like treatment Jimin washed him with every day was only useful to let Jungkook two times more aware of their type of relationship. It was a hyung-dongsaeng kind of relationship, and sometimes it was just not enough for Jungkook. It used to be back on their pre-debut days, but as time went by he was growing more and more greedy of Jimin's... presence? Maybe that wasn’t the right word, but nevertheless, he didn’t want to be just a dongsaeng for him. He wanted to be a friend. So everytime Jimin was around, he would feel like he had to be more mature to show Jimin they could in fact treat theirselves like equals. Not in a disrespectful kind of way, but in a closer kind of way. Almost like Taehyung and Jungkook did, but with Taehyung was easier, because, to be honest, sometimes he seemed to be younger than Jungkook himself. The point was, the problem dwelled in the fact it didn’t really matter how much Jungkook acted all mature and stuff, because deep down inside him he wasn't all mature and stuff. So he had two options: stay cool or stay quiet. And this carried the consequence of sometimes, ignoring Jimin talking with him, because well, he didn’t know how would be a mature or appropriate way of answering. But Jungkook had always assumed Jimin knew it wasn't on purpose, because, well... He had never showed any sign of hurt or irritation towards Jungkook. And he also didn’t stop treating Jungkook the way he did, so that couldn’t be the thing upsetting him, right? "So, everyone ready in thirty, okay?", Jungkook snapped out of his thoughts and catched the last things Namjoon was saying while heading to the bathroom. Everyone seemed to agree with the time. "Okay then, don't take so long changing, I'm starving!" “Like this is big news to anyone.” Seokjin stated.

•••

The restaurant was partially empty – Jungkook didn’t expect more, because even though Manabu's food was probably made by god’s hands, it was a fucking negative eight degree celsius out there in the streets. He almost let out a sigh of relief when he entered the warm and cozy place, smelling like fresh food. After rubbing his gloved hands on each other, seeking for heat, Jungkook looked around the place. Jimin was nowhere to be seen. “He's not here yet.” he whispered, but the words got muffled by the scarf around his neck. He took it off and followed the hyungs to the table they had chosen. After everyone picked a seat, Jungkook himself did the same, sitting next to Hoseok. There was still two empty places on the table – one by his side, and another next to Jin, who was in front of him. Jungkook internally wished Jimin would choose the seat next to him. “I swear to god, if he doesn't show up in five–“ Yoongi started, but got cut off by the sound of the front door opening. Jungkook's heart did a boom boom thing inside his chest. It was him. Jimin was wearing the same clothes from earlier but with a big black coat that covered all the way up to the middle of his thighs. It was big but it didn’t look very warm – at least not enough for that kind of weather –, so he had a rosy flush painting his cheeks and trembling hands hugging his own body. His lips were dry and with barely any color. Apart from the cuteness Jimin's whole existence naturally exhaled, he had a grumpy expression on his face. He marched towards them with his arms crossed and sit by Jungkook's side without looking at any of them. “I dunno what I'm doing here, I said I already ate,” Jimin pouted a little and his voice came out sounding like he was a sullen baby boy. How old was he again? Five? Jungkook fought a smile, because the moment wasn't propitious. It was in moments like these that the need of acting the same age as Jimin didn’t even cross his mind. “Don't be like that, we're here to enjoy a nice meal together...” Hoseok smiled at him with fond eyes, “okay?” Jimin side eyed them and uncrossed his arms, but kept that little pout on his face. “...’kay,” he answered in a low tone. It was a few minutes after Jimin arrived, when they were deciding what to eat – with Jimin arguing he wanted nothing big because he wasn’t hungry at all, “A little bit of soup is enough.” – that another customer entered the restaurant. He was blond and tall, and honestly Jungkook didn’t really pay much attention to him, until he walked past them and suddenly exclaimed a surprised “Jiminie?!” while bending down to look said one in the face. Everyone's eyes turned to him with expressions a little bit confused. A second of silence spreaded through the table, when Jimin's face suddenly lit up and he nearly screamed: “Myeongie?! Is it you?” Jungkook watched Jimin’s body move as he excitedly got up from his seat and went for a hug with the taller boy. He wided his eyes with surprise, because who the hell was that? A lost brother they never heard about? Why was Jimin hugging him all intimately like that? They held on each other's bodies for a moment or two – which got Jungkook’s stomach writhing in his belly, but of course it was just because they were two guys hugging in a really close way – and then they pulled away and took another moment to look theirselves in the eye. Jungkook averted his gaze. “Oh my god, is it really you? I can’t believe that, look how tall you are now! And you're blond! I can't believe you're actually blond, you always said you hated it,” Jungkook heard Jimin's voice followed by giggles from both of them. The blond guy squeaked slighly while laughing and Jungkook thought that was the most stupid sound he ever heard. Who laughs like that? “Things change, you know? Except for your height, but that's another thing...” he laughed and Jimin followed him, but with a failed attempt to look mad saying “Aish, you brat.” while slapping the boy on the arm. I'm sorry? Did he just joke about Jimin's height? He doesn’t joke about Jimin's height, I do! Okay, so maybe Jungkook was a little bit salty to the fact Jimin was sulking beside him only a second ago, but now that this guy appeared he was all smiles, giggles and tight hugs. “Everyone,” Jimin's voice surged again directed at the guys, forcing Jungkook to look at him “this is Myeongie, an old friend of mine from Busan.” Oh, so he was from Busan too. Nice. “Myeongie, this is Jin-hyung, Yoongi-hyung, Taehyungie, Namjoon-hyung, Hobi-hyung and Jungkookie, in order. They're all my group mates.” “Yeah, I know, I think I saw them on tv like... only a thousand times,” he sarcastically joked and both of them laughed. Jimin wasn’t calling him hyung and neither was that Myeong boy, so why were they talking so informally to each other? Were they the same age or something? But Jimin called him brat, so maybe that meant... “Hello everyone, I'm Kim Myeong, nice to meet you.” he bowed his upper body politely, with a big smile on his face. All the hyungs bowed back, so Jungkook thought it was going to be disrespectful if he didn’t do the same – even though he didn’t want to. “Hola, hola! Do you want to sit with us?” Hoseok loudly suggested smiling as brightly as ever. “Are you Jiminie's childhood friend??? The one he got lost with in a mall??” Taehyung excitedly asked. Jungkook looked his way, because he hadn’t a clue about what Taehyung was talking about, “He told me about you!” Oh. So Jimin told his current best friend about his former best friend. Nice. Myeong laughed shyly. “Oh, he did? And yes, that's me...” “Come, come, sit with us,” Taehyung offered too and so the boy did – with a low and shy “excuse me” – by Jin's side, who warmly smiled at him, “I have so many things to ask you...”

•••

They were talking for ten minutes, but it seemed like ten years. Jungkook was the only one not interacting in the conversation, preferring to play with the napkins on the table. He was listening though. They met each other when they were five, because of their parents friendship, but when Jimin reached his teenage years he came to Seoul so they stopped talking, not because they wanted to, but because of the distance and the lack of time – in Jimin's own words. Apparently, Myeong knew everything about Jimin and he irritatingly seemed to need to confirm this everytime he went like “Oh, but when Jimin was little, everytime he didn’t win a game or literally anything, he would be like sulking in a corner close to tears until someone reached him and praised him. That was the only way to make him happy again.” and so Hoseok would complete with “Oh, but he is still like that! Except for the close to tears part, we still need to praise him a lot when he loses at something right, Jiminie?”, that was when Jimin blushed like crazy trying to deny both of them. Taehyung cut him off saying he had a praise kink, so everyone laughed and started to tease him. Myeong included. He was already acting like he was part of the group and Jungkook couldn’t put into words how much that pissed him off. “Yes, it's true. One day my cousin went to visit me back there in Busan and my mom told me to play with her too, because I hadn't seen her in a long time, but Jimin got jealous and started crying telling me I liked her better.” A wave of loud teasing calling Jimin crybaby took over the table. “He only stopped when I was like 'hyung, don't be like that, you're so much cooler than her, I swear.'” All the members were laughing – except for Jimin that was blushing like that was the most embarrassing moment of his life, but, even though, had a shy smile and a pair of fond eyes directed at Myeong, making Jungkook want to throw up. Gross. But... wait, what? “'Hyung?'” Jungkook spoke for the first time since the unwelcome guest arrived “Jimin-hyung is your hyung?” “Well... yes?” Myeong smiled “He's two years older.” “Oh! The same for Jungkookie, right?” Taehyung stated, but Jungkook had a bitter taste in his throat to answer. “But if so, you two are really close, right?” Namjoon said, “I wouldn’t notice if you haven't said it.” “Yes, we are.” Jimin smiled sweetly and Jungkook looked away again. Myeong was on the same level as him, but somehow he managed to be with Jimin in the way Jungkook had secretly always wished. They treated themselves like equals and they knew everything about each other. It didn’t seem like they ever had a moment of uncomfortable silence between them, because honestly they looked like the type of friends that could talk all day long without running out of subjects to talk about. Jungkook bit the inner part of his bottom lip hard. He wanted to go home. He wanted Myeong to go away from them. From Jimin. He knew he was being selfish and petty, but... “And what exactly are you doing here?” Yoongi asked, “I mean, you came all the way from Busan to Seoul for what?” “I'm here to do a three month acting course. They offered me a scholarship for this time and I accepted.” Three months? Not three days? Or at least, three weeks? Three months? It couldn’t get better. “Woah, really?” Jin exclaimed “That's so cool! You like acting?” "Yes!" Jimin answered for him, "He does, and he is so good! Show 'em, Myeongie, show 'em!" he was excitedly jumping on his chair. Jungkook rolled his eyes. Lame. And so, again, the conversation revolved around Myeong, Myeong and more Myeong. It seemed like an eternity for the food to arrive and like another eternity for them to say goodbye. Jimin and Myeong hugged in that oh-look-how-intimate-we-are way once again, and then exchanged numbers. They waved each others goodbyes with a promise to meet again in another opportunity. Jungkook felt something writhing in his stomach a second time. Maybe it was something he ate.

•••

Taking a time to read a manga could be pretty fucking hard if you lived with people like Jungkook's members. There wasn’t a single place in the house silent enough for Jungkook to relax. He was trying to concentrate for 20 minutes, but he was still on page 5. The hyungs were always loud, but they were specially loud that day. The reason? Jimin was going on a date. Well, he wasn’t really, but that’s what Hoseok had been screaming nonstop for the past hour, so now it was a fucking date on Jungkook's mind. Blame Hoseok. “Hyung, I already told you it's not a date, he's my best friend, okay?” Jimin walked past him shirtless, looking under the cushions on the couch and behind the couch itself, searching for some piece of clothing. “Outch.” Taehyung pretended to be shot in the heart. “That hurt, traitor.” Jimin rolled his eyes. “No drama, please, I'm late. Can you help me find that black tshirt?” “Well, but if it's not a date, then why are you so worried about how you're gonna look?” Hoseok teased a bit more. “I'm not, I just want that black tshirt!” Jungkook loudly snorted, clearly irritated, drawing all the attention to him. “Can you guys talk just a little bit lower? I'm kind of trying to concentrate here.” “What happened to your room?” Taehyung asked while chewing a toast. “Namjoon hyung is sleeping.” he muttered with eyes already on the paper page in front of him. He didn’t want to extend the conversation. He was pretty pissed with them. “And yours is a mess.” “Oh!” Jimin suddenly exclaimed forcing him to look up, “Is this haikyuu?? Myeongie told me about it! Is it good?” He swallowed hard putting the book aside. “Not really.” “Oh, seriously?” the boy sounded disappointed, “That's a pity, he said is just as good as kuroko no basket!” “Kuroko really is good.” Taehyung agreeded. Jungkook rolled his eyes for probably the 956th time that night and reached out for his phone, opening piano tiles. “Yes! Do you know Myeongie plays basketball too? He really is amazing, right? He does so many things! He can even sing, I already heard. Oh, found it!” “Hey, that's mine!” Jungkook heard Jin's voice out of nowhere together with the sound of the door opening. He looked up just in time to see him entering with hands full of shopping bags. “I brought food.” “Hyung, pleaseee.” Jimin whined and the maknae had to bit inside his bottom lip. He was still shirtless. “Let me use it, just today, I really love this one...” “Fine, but help me out here.” Jungkook returned his attention to the screen. “What else Myeong can do, if he's so amazing?” Hoseok brought the topic back for certain someone's disgust. “He is good at all sports, he is really smart, he can win any girl's heart, I swear– well, not that I'm surprised but– Oh! He can cook too, did you know that, Jin-hyung?” “Woah, seems like we have another golden maknae here, then.” Seokjin commented and Jungkook stopped a sarcastic smile sticking his tongue on the interior of his cheek. “What about that, Jungkook?” Taehyung mocked and he decided to ignore. It's fine. He pressed a wrong block on the screen and lost on 113. It's fine. “Aish, stop this.” Was all Jimin said, laughing it off. “Mhmmm, but what does he thinks about you having another maknae to love and dot on now, huh?” Jungkook's fingers froze for a second and he lost on 7. The bright screen started to hurt his eyes and give him a headache. “Aish, he's ignoring us as usual.” Hoseok complained. He heard Jimin’s laugh and for some reason it saddened him. Suddenly everything around him saddened him. “No no, Jungkookie doesn’t care about that. Well, anyway... I'm going now, see you all later!” Jungkook snapped out of his trance just in time to see Jimin's back leaving the door. It was stupid, he knew, but he felt like the entirety of his motivation was taken away with him when his silhouette disappeared behind that door. “Feeling jealous?” Taehyung dumbly smiled at him. “No offence, but fuck off.”

•••

It was thursday – Jimin and Jungkook's practice day. Jungkook didn't exactly remember when or how it started – he just has a few flashes of both him and Jimin panting on the ground of the dance studio, saying they wanted to get better at dancing, but that it sucked practicing alone. Suddenly they were meeting on all thursday's nights to practice together and, as their relationship evolved, just to fall on easy conversation or to get out to eat something at somewhere near. It was nice. On those days, Jungkook could feel them getting closer. He could feel Jimin slowly letting his invisible armour breaking down to let Jungkook in. You see, it was not like Jimin faked his personality to the others. It was just that he was strong. A lot. And most of the times, he was not strong for himself, he was strong for the group – so it demanded a price. Jimin was one of Bangtan's sunshines, but in order to be the moodmaker, he had to supress his own feelings and emotions to a level that by some point along the way, doing that became just natural to him. Putting the well being of his members above his own. Don't get it wrong, it's not like he was ever going to let someone step on him for its own self gain, but if he had the power to do something to make things better, then he was doing it. And that included working the shit out of his body just to improve his dance skills or even dieting so hard to look good for his fans to the point he actually fainted once. That was what fame and success made out of him. But not on those nights. At least, not anymore. On those nights, Jimin would tell Jungkook about his fears and insecurities. He would tell Jungkook how much he missed home. He would even allow himself to shed some tears while talking about his family. And Jungkook would listen to everything carefully, only to admit he felt exactly the same way. On those nights, regardless of their age gap, Jungkook would feel like he was not completely alone in his feelings. There was someone out there who could actually understand him, and acknowledging this eased him in a way he wouldn't be able to explain through words. That's why thursdays were important to him. Which lead to the actual point of this whole explanation. "Did you see Jimin-hyung?" Jungkook asked Yoongi, checking the time on his phone. It was almost the time for them to leave the dorm and he was nowhere to be found. "Huh?" the older looked up from his laptop and massaged his neck, "He left about one hour ago, I think. Maybe two..." "Really? Ah... I wonder if he is coming back already..." Jungkook paced out while searching on his phone for Jimin's contact to message him. "Mhm... I don't think so, Kook-ah. He went out with that Myeong boy and he said he was coming back late." Jungkook's whole body stopped moving for a moment as his stomach slowly sinked in, "Why? Were you waiting for him to do something?" He needed a second to remember how to speak again. "A-ah... N-not really, hyung. I was j-just... yeah..." Jungkook had to take a deep breath to not let the knot in his throat transform into tears. He was definitely not crying because of that, "I'll g-go find Taehyungie or... Something..." not knowing what else to say, he simply walked to his bedroom with a sharp ache on his chest. Namjoon wasn't there. Good. Good, because Jungkook didn’t want anyone to see how pathetically he was breaking. Jimin just went out with his friend, what was so bad about that? Nothing, right? So what, if he replaced Jungkook for that stupid Myeongie on their day? So what, if he didn't actually give a shit about his and Jungkook’s late practice nights? It wasn’t important. It meant nothing. Jimin meant nothing. Right? He meant nothing. So why was he crying? Why was he feeling like there was a growing hollow inside him, murmuring things he didn’t want to hear? Jimin has Myeong now, he doesn’t need you anymore. “Shut up.” Jungkook hurtfully murmured. He let his back slide through the door's wood behind him, until his body hit the ground. He stayed there, blankly staring at the void – wondering why he was so easily replaced. Or maybe he was just too emotional and sensitive... Who ever said those nights were oh-so importants at all? Jimin never said he appreciated them and also never did Jungkook. Very probably, they were just ordinary nights, a part of the routine for Jimin, but Jungkook made a big thing out of it just so he wouldn’t feel so damn lonely in that useless big city. He was stupid. Stupid and scared of being alone, but that's what he got from it. A stinging pain and a knot on his gut, bringing tears to his eyes. Jungkook wiped them away with harsh rubs. He wasn't a cry baby. It didn't matter if Jimin didn't like him the way he did. It didn't matter if what was important for Jungkook wasn't for Jimin. It didn't matter, because Jimin wasn't the center of his life. Right? Jungkook had others responsabilities, and getting better for the group was one of them. He got up from the ground, washed his swollen face and headed to the studio. He didn't need Jimin. Jimin could have all the fun he wanted with his beloved childhood friend, Jungkook didn't need him. He just needed to forget.

•••

The clock struck one in the morning when Jimin arrived at the dorm. The only one awake was Yoongi, lying on the couch with the laptop's light illuminating his face. Apart from it, the living room was plunged in darkness. "G'night, hyung." he fell next to him, streching his body. "Hey, kid." Yoongi answered without look away from the screen. He yawned, making Jimin unconsciously imitate him, "Did Jungkookie get in touch with you?" "Mhm?" Jimin murmured, already feeling the signs of sleepiness trying to take over his body. His eyes were slightly closing. He yawned again. "What for?" "I don't know, he was looking for you earlier." "Really?" Jimin took a moment to question himself why would Jungkook look out for him on a wednesday. "That's odd." he couldn’t find a specific reason why "Is he home?" Yoongi thinked a little. "Now that you've mentioned, I remember him leaving right after asking for you. He didn't come back yet." The elder finally looked at him. "Isn’t there a day you two go practice together or something?" Jimin's heart skipped a beat before he allowed himself to relax. "Yeah, but that's probably not it, because it's on thursdays and today is–" "Thursday." Yoongi stared at him like he was stupid. "Actually friday, but, yeah." His breath got caught in his throat. "No way." he managed through a breathy whisper. The silence filled the room as the increasingly heavy guilt sinked in Jimin's gut. "Tsc, tsc... Maknae's hurt now." Yoongi scolded. He felt the burden of saddening Jungkook weighting down his shoulders. God, he messed up so bad. "Where is he?" "How would I know? Maybe he is practicing alone." Picturing that scene made Jimin's heart twinge, “Do I have to teach you everything? If you have a commitment with someone then stick with it.” he sounded slightly angry, “Don't go out carelessly making plans with other people. Jungkook looked pretty hurt when I said you went out with Myeong.” Jimin could say nothing; could feel nothing but guilty. “I know you're all still kids, but you need to have responsability for your acts, Jimin.” he silently listened, knowing Yoongi was right. It didn’t matter if what he did was unintentional – thanks to that, now Jungkook was hurt. He got up from the couch and out of the dorm in a second, rushing to the company’s building. There was no way someone would drive him there that late at night, and taking a cab would take too long, so Jimin grabbed Taehyung's bike and pedaled faster than he remembers doing his entire life. He made it in five minutes – when he stepped on the ground his legs almost gave in. He took the studio elevator counting the seconds for it to get on the floor he wanted. When the door finally opened – thirty-six seconds later – Jimin had his heart in his throat and a kind of numbness at his fingertips. He was scared of how Jungkook would react and treat him, but left no room for second thoughts while running to the grey door at the end of the hall. Jimin could hear the muffled rhythm of I need u blasting out of the speakers. He opened the door the exact same second Jungkook tripped on his own feet and fell on the ground. They stared at each other through the mirror for what it seemed like an hour – both frozen in place –, before Jimin worriedly ran till him. He crouched by his side, resting his hand on the younger's shoulder, but said one dodged away from the touch. Jimin stared at him trying to repress his surprised expression and recoiled his hand. Jungkook was not looking at him. "Are you hurt?" he catiously asked. The maknae was holding his bruised knee against his chest, but the moment Jimin made that question he released it. "No." Jungkook got up and walked till the radio to pause the music, avoiding any kind of eye contact. "Uhm..." Jimin tried, when the song stopped. The sudden silence in contrast to the loud beat filling the room just seconds ago made the air seem heavier, "Jungkook..” he called in a low tone, not knowing exactly how to act. The only thing on his view was the other's back, facing the wall. He got no answer or reaction – the younger's body static. ”Jungkook, look at me..." Nothing. Not even the briefest movement from a muscle. Jimin got up from his place and walked till him. He grabbed his wrist in the most delicate way he knew and softly turned the taller boy's body to face him. Jungkook lifted his eyes, masked with a cold expression, but didn’t say anything. He was chewing on his bottom lip – Jimin realized within a twinge on his heart. He only ever did that when he was trying to fight the fact he was hurt or nervous. "Jungkook...” his voice was barely a whisper, ”I'm so sorry, I–" the words didn’t manage to leave his lips, because Jungkook abruptly pushed his arm off Jimin's hold and walked away. He started picking up his things from the ground and stuffing it into his black bag. Jimin watched him with a mute sadness growing on his stomach. He's not even going to talk to me? When Jungkook reached the door, Jimin was ready to stop him; close the door, yell – he was ready to just do something instead of being paralyzed like an idiot –, but then Jungkook's voice surged in the silence like the sound of Jimin's childhood old stereo – broken and shaky. “I'm tired, I'm sorry.” It was dark, but Jimin thought he saw Jungkook holding on to the bag's strap harder than he needed to, “It's not really important, no need to make a big deal out of this. It's okay, hyung.” the way he uttered 'hyung' – a broken sort of way – left Jimin wondering what kind of human being was he to hurt such a precious person like Jungkook. He really was the worst. Jungkook hold on to the door's knob for one moment too long – like he was expecting Jimin to say– to do something. But when the room only gave him the same deafening silence, he opened the door and left. Apparently, it was really not important.

•••

“What happened to Jungkookie?” Taehyung appeared holding a bunch of snacks on his arms. “What do you mean?” Jimin rolled on the bed to find a better position to look at the screen of his phone. “He has been playing games all day since yesterday. He only left his bedroom to eat. I even wonder if he showered.” Jimin tried to focus on the screen in front of him. He made a weird sound with his mouth and Taehyung sat next to him. “He's just enjoying his time. You're talking like he doesn’t already play games all day when he has the chance.” And it was true. It wasn’t like Jungkook was doing anything out of ordinary. “Yeah, I know, but...” the brown-haired boy finished chewing the cookie in his mouth to properly express what he was trying to say, “He's been like this” he made Jimin look at his face imitating Jungkook's expression, but he was just being pouty, “all day.” “I bet he doesn't. This looks ridiculous.” Taehyung rolled his eyes. “Well, in Jungkookie doesn't. He looks upset, I know him...” Jimin snorted and let his phone fall with a mute sound on the duvet. “Look, what do you want me to do? I already told you what happened, you already told him it wasn’t my fault, I already went to his bedroom twice to check on him and to silently apologize, but he won't take his eyes off that goddamn videogame, so what do you want me to do?! He is probably already over it and just wants to play his games all day, so let him! I'm not going to stay here being egocentric and thinking that all of his problems revolve around me, okay?” Taehyung was silent for a moment, staring at him with partially shocked partially desbeliefed eyes. “When did you become so insensitive?! Being aware you hurt someone is not egocentric, are you crazy?! Of course he is upset because of you! Didn’t you say those practices days were your days? I'd be pretty hurt too if I was him!” Jimin sat straight to properly talk with the boy looking at him with a 4-year-old-angry-face. “I'm not insensitive!” he frowned a bit pissed too, “How can I know it's about me if he doesn’t tell me? Huh, huh? I don’t want to be the selfish guy that thinks everything is about him!” They were talking pretty loudly now, voices increasingly overlapping each other. “Stop being so stupid, goddammit!” Taehyung got up, exasperated gesturing with his hands, “You're only making excuses so you don’t have to actually face this! Are you a coward, by chance?!” Jimin stood up offended. “What?!” They were facing each other – both with brows furrowed and angry pouts forming on their lips – when Hoseok abruptly opened the door. “Aish, aish, what are you two kids screaming about?” Taehyung had his arms crossed over his chest. He turned over to Hoseok's direction and his expression changed. “Hyunnnng...” he whined like a baby. Whined. Jimin rolled his eyes. There was something about Hobi that made Taehyung act even more like a child than he usually did, “Tell Jiminie to stop being a fool!” “Jiminie, stop being a fool.” “Hyunnng...” well, no one ever said Jimin was immune to Hoseok's power too, “I'm not a fool, Taehyung is the one sticking his nose where he wasn’t asked to!” “Excuse me? Of course I'll intrude in something if one of my best friends are a part of the subject, and if both of them are, then I might even solve the problem myself!” Jimin was about to answer him, but Hoseok stepped in between them and shut both of their mouths with a finger. “First, I don’t want to hear any of you yelling at each other like that ever again, do you hear me?” he was being serious like he rarely was, so the 95 liners just looked down while answering a low 'yes, hyung', “Second, what happened?” the two made mention to start talking together so Hoseok stated, “Taehyung first.” “What, why?! I'm older! That's not fair!” Jimin pouted with his mouth hanging open – yes, he made that possible –, while Taehyung smiled smugly. “Sh!” Hoseok put a finger on his own lips, “Let him speak.” Jimin crossed his arms over his chest resentful, but stayed quiet. “Jiminie hurt Jungkookie and now he doesn't want to apologize.” Taehyung declared confidently – more to tease his best friend than anything. “Oh, what a lie!” Jimin uncrossed his arms to point accusingly at Taehyung, “Hyung, he is lying! Liar! I did apologize!” “Showing up to his room to offer him water and juice and to ask him what does he thinks about your new tshirt is not apologizing!” “Well, in my language it is!” “Okay, okay.” Hoseok gave his back to Taehyung and placed both his hands on Jimin's shoulders, staring at him with fond eyes, “What happened?” Jimin looked away. He was doing that thing where he pouted and frowned at the same time while fighting to say something. “I-I missed mine and Jungkook's day, because I went out with Myeong, but–“ he looked expectantly at Hoseok like trying to beforehand tell him it hadn’t been on purpose, “It was just because I mixed the days, hyung, I'd never hurt Jungkookie like that simply because I wanted to, you know that! And... And then I... I went out to him at the studio to apologize, but he didn’t let me and now he is not even looking me in the eyes, but how can I be sure that it's because of this? How can I know if he considers this such an important day, like I do, to be this much hurt?” Jimin spilled the words so fast he was scared Hoseok didn’t understand a thing, so he'd have to repeat it all over again, but then his hyung smiled. “Go talk to him. That's the only way you'll know.” “But... Hyunnng...” he looked away again, “What if he doesn’t want to talk to me?” “Then force him to!” Jimin giggled a little and whispered 'woah, savage' making both him and Hoseok laugh, “I'm serious. You're his hyung. Is this the kind of thing you want to teach to our precious maknae? That you can hurt people– even if it's not on purpose” Hoseok completed when Jimin did a movement to interrupt him, “and not apologize at all?” There was a three seconds silence before Jimin shuffled his feet and lowered his eyes. “No...” “Then go talk to him.” “Okay, okay, I'll go after dinne–“ “Now.” Jimin was about to complain again when he was suddenly too much self aware of how much he had been acting like a kid in those past minutes, so he just nooded and silently headed out of the room. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to apologize to Jungkook. It wasn't like he wasn’t feeling bad about it. To be very honest, he actually spent the last night almost entirely awake, picturing scenarios where he properly apologized and everything was sorted out again. In some of them, Jungkook even hugged him so tight Jimin could feel his own heart tightening with it. He got rid of them without questioning why they came up to his mind to begin with. It was just that he was scared to be confronted with Jungkook's words and expression – whichever it was. Maybe Taehyung was right and he really was a coward. But, he didn’t know what to expect. He didn’t know if Jungkook would be deeply hurt or deeply not giving a fuck. And Jimin couldn’t choose which one saddened him more. So that's why he was reluctant to knock on the piece of wood in front of him in that moment. That's why his heart was pouding so fast – probably. He breathed in deeply and took his hand till the knob, preferring to not startle the younger or distract him from his game. Jimin softly opened the door, making the lowest of the sounds while putting only his head in, to know if it was okay to enter. Jungkook was laying on his bed staring at the TV in front of him without any joystick in hands. “Jungkookie?” he called anxiously. The younger switched his focus from the screen to Jimin and raised his brows once, like asking 'what?', “Mmm... Can I come in?” Jimin lowered his eyes, because for some reason looking at Jungkook was making his hands sweat and his belly tingle. He was too nervous, that's why. Jimin didn’t get an answer, so he looked up again just in time to see Jungkook silently nodding and returning his eyes to the television. He completely entered the room with his body and closed the door behind him. He stayed there, though. Awkwardly parked in front of the door, clueless about what to do. When the silence was getting a bit too much uncomfortable to handle Jimin found himself asking: “What are you watching?” Jungkook looked at him, so he looked at the television. The atmosphere of the movie was strangely familiar to him, even though it wasn't korean. “Begin again.” Jimin raised his brows surprised. “Oh, really? That's cool, this movie is pretty good, right?” Jungkook nodded and then before the room fell in silence again Jimin scooted closer. “Can I watch with you?” “Yeah.” was everything Jimin was answered with. He stopped mid-way his walk to Jungkook’s bed, because he realized it would be awkward for them to share one in that situation, so he just weirdly walked two steps back and sat on Namjoon’s. The movie had rolled for five minutes in absolute silence when the air conditioner started to make Jimin shiver. Jungkook was warmly tucked in a big and comfortable duvet, but Jimin was covered only with a sleeveless tshirt and thin shorts. He was about to property lay on his hyung's bed to search for some shelter, away from that freezing air coming out of the white machine, when Jungkook suddenly grabbed his wrist. “You're cold.” he mumbled, “Come here.” Jimin tried to avoid the blush on his cheeks, but he was already feeling the heat spreading to his ears. “Y-yeah.” they had already done that a million times before so there was no reason to be nervous, right? Jimin walked till the other side of the bed and with his heart beating on his ears, he layed by Jungkook’s side, who covered him with the soft blanket. Jimin's body was static. He didn’t dare to make a move – because snuggling up to Jungkook’s arm and resting his head on his chest like they always did would be super embarrassing if Jungkook rejected him. But he was still shivering from cold, so when Jimin's foot brushed Jungkook's – hot and tender against his skin –, he felt a hand pulling him close. They were back to their position for movies night – Jimin's ear glued to Jungkook’s chest, hearing his heartbeats, and the younger's hand resting on the elder's back. “You're freezing.” Jungkook explained and for some reason Jimin felt like crying. He wasn’t going to, of course – he was not the baby; Jungkook was. “Jungkook-ah...” even though, his voice sounded like he was about to break into tears. He waited for Jungkook to reply, but when he didn’t he looked up pressing his lips together to hold in his tears, “Are you angry with me?” Jungkook stared at him for a moment, and it seemed like he was dealing with some inner fight. “Of course not, hyung.” his voice was low, distant. “Don't lie to me...” Jimin said in a small voice and averted his gaze. “I'm not lying, though.” “Then what is it?! I tried to apologize, but you didn’t even let me and now you're all weird!” he accused still avoiding the other's eyes. Jungkook sighed and moved his lips like he was about to speak, so Jimin focused his whole attention on him again. “It's just that... It's stupid. I thought those nights were kind of important for us, but–“ “They were! They are!” Jimin cut him off, eager to reassure him. “It's true, you need to believe me...” “I do, but...” this time Jungkook was the one who looked away, “That's why it hurt. When Yoongi-hyung said you weren't... When he said you weren’t home, because...” he was having problems forming the phrases because suddenly a tear rolled down his cheek making Jimin's heart break into thousands pieces all at once, “I thought 'woah, am I really that easily replaced?', so...” “Jungkookie, no!” Jimin was crying now while trying to wipe the younger's tears away, “You're not, you're not, it's just me that is stupid! Don't think like that, please...” seeing Jungkook cry was probably the most heartbreaking thing Jimin has ever saw his entire life, “I mixed the days, I thought it was wednesday... Jungkook...” he sobbed, cause he was feeling so damn sad, “I would never do that, it's our day, isn’t it?” when Jungkook nodded he internally thanked the heavens, because at least he was able to get some sort of joy and relief spreading through his body, “See? There's not a person who can replace you, you're unique just he way you are, so please take this out of your mind...” Jimin was crying harder than Jungkook – who was in fact not even crying anymore, just teary eyed –, but he couldn’t bring himself to care less. The maknae silently nooded and brought his hands to wipe Jimin's tears away – like he had done to Jungkook just seconds ago –, but it didn’t matter how many times his long fingers brushed Jimin's cheeks to dry it – the tears wouldn’t stop falling. “Hyung, you're a crybaby.” he giggled softly. Jimin smiled at ease. That giggle was probably the most relaxing sound he heard all day. “Shut up.” he sniffled and rubbed the tip of his nose with the back of his hand to clean it. “Ugh, gross.” Jungkook smiled again and this time Jimin lightly slapped him on the shoulder. “Loser.” “I'm not the one crying.” “I'm not the one wearing iron man's pajamas.” “You know he is the coolest avenger.” “Oh, you know he's not.” “Blasphemy!” Jimin laughed. “Where did you learn that word?” Jungkook pretended to gasp offended. “Are you calling me dumb?!” Somehow, they were both laughing and when their voices slowly died, the silence was back, but this time it wasn’t uncomfortable, it was cozy. “Aren’t you gonna replay the movie?” Jimin returned his attention to the tv, “I want to watch it with you.” Jungkook fought a smile and pretended not to notice the warmth on his chest making his heart go crazy. He reached for the control, “Yeah... Me too.”

•••

Myeongie – 11:48 pm hey, u up?

You – 11:51 pm yea practicing, what’s up?

Myeongie – 11:51 pm oh, nothing then, don’t mind good practice!

You – 11:53 pm myeongie, what’s up?

Myeongie – 11:53 pm just kinda need you can u call me when you’re over?

You – 11:59 pm pick up, im calling u

•••

It was almost midnight and they had been practicing all day. They were learning their new choreography and it was by far the hardest one they had ever tried. Dope carried a fast beat within fast movements of their feets so it demanded a lot of motor coordination. Even Hoseok was having problems, so Jungkook didn’t feel so bad about not being able to catch up sometimes. Their choreographer had already left about three hours ago, so the seven of them were the only ones in the room. Jungkook was focused on his reflection on the mirror, but his attention was stolen when he caught an unusual movement with the corner of his eyes. He spotted Jimin crouched down next to his bag, fastly tapping on his cellphone. He got up with the phone in hand and returned his focus to the music playing – but then a few minutes later he was back tapping and this time looking worried. Jungkook tried to ignore the bothersome knot on his stomach. Jimin was just chatting, he couldn’t understand why he was feeling that jealousy trying to take over him. And even if he wasn’t just chatting, it didn’t really matter, because Jimin wasn’t some thing for Jungkook to feel possessive with. He was just his friend – a very special friend, yes, but just a friend. But, if so, why couldn’t Jungkook take his eyes off him? They were fine now – actually getting closer every day –, but Jimin was also getting closer every day with Myeong and Jungkook couldn’t help the selfish feeling of not wanting to share with a person that was so much better than him in almost all ways. He was stupid, he knew, stupid and childish, but it was just that, for some reason, Jimin's attention was never enough to him. And it was a little frightening, to be honest. Back on their predebut days, Jimin treating him food and listening to his thoughts were just fine. But then, when they debuted and came up with that whole concept of push and pull relationship, Jungkook grew used to Jimin dotting on him and washing him with compliments and hugs 24/7. He'd never admit it out loud himself, of course, but he got a lit bit addicted to it. So when Jimin wasn’t looking his way, he would made a fool of himself just to draw his attention again – but all the times he succeeded, he usually freaked out and pushed him away. It was supposed to stop there, because his desire of being one of Jimin's favorite people was growing out of limits – to the point it started to scare him, because he had never felt like that towards anyone. The problem was: it didn’t stop there. Now Jungkook would be slightest pissed if Jimin came after him in front of the camera right after playing the same cheap skinship with another member. He didn’t get it, it should mean nothing, Jimin was naturally clingy and touchy, but was it too much wanting for him to be more touchy and clingy to Jungkook than to anyone else? He just wanted to feel special. On those days – when these thoughts filled his mind – he'd question himself if he was really that much needy of love and affection to the point he'd direct it all to a guy. Maybe I should find a girlfriend, he'd conclude. And in the end, he'd conveniently ignore the fact he had other six members that treated him just as well as his own mother did, because, deeply, he knew his problem wasn’t really lack of love and affection. Hoseok's sudden loud voice startled him, making him stumble and almost fall. “Jimin, put down that phone, let's go!” he clapped to get everyone's attention again. “Gather here, in position, let's start again from the beginning one last time.” his voice was serious and his eyes concentrated. Dance leader Jung Hoseok was a lot different from usual sunshine flower J-hope. Some sounds of complaint were heard, but when the music started all of them gave their best – just to almost pass out on the ground when it finished, everyone panting and sweating. Jimin was the only one that looked with a little bit of life on him – all those overnight practices had to pay off, right? –, sitting on the corner of the room, with his phone glued to his ear. He was frowning, and when the person he was calling picked up he mumbled some words no one heard, and left the room. Jungkook followed him with his eyes and kept them on the door after it closed. A few seconds later Jimin came back, picking up his things. He walked till Jin and Namjoon with the backpack hanging on his shoulder and knelt down next to them. After some words shared and a pair of worried eyes from Jin, Jimin got up and left again. This time he didn’t come back.

•••

“Where's Jimin?” their manager asked when they entered the car to go home. Jungkook was asking himself the very same question. “He asked us to go home first, because his mother wanted to talk to him alone for some time.” Namjoon explained, so the man nodded. “Where’s Jimin-hyung?” Jungkook asked when they arrived at the dorm and he didn’t find the boy anywhere. “Jimin's not sleeping home tonight. He said he had something to deal with, but that he is going to be here before breakfast tomorrow, so don’t tell the managers.” Namjoon said out loud, taking the chance to explain the situation to everyone at once. Jungkook just numbly nooded and spent the next hour unusually silent. I'm just tired, he told himself.

You – 12:52 am hyung, where u at?

Sent 12:52 am. Seen 1:01 am. Jungkook sighed looking outside the window. It was a kind of cold night in which he would seek for Jimin's heat under the blankets, searching for his arms to hold – not because he needed warmth; because he needed Jimin. It was a kind of cold night in which they would fall asleep with their legs tangled and their chests touching – because, like many things, that was also their thing. But Jungkook fell asleep alone, wondering what could have been so important for Jimin to leave without even saying goodbye.

•••

A silent Park Jimin when in the same room as Jeon Jungkook doing aegyo to cheer him up was something that never crossed Taehyung’s mind. Not in a billion years. But probably for some big ass error in space time, things were getting out of their normal on that day. It was the only reasonable explanation. Jungkook was trying hard, but in all attempts Jimin would just tiredly smile at him without it really reaching his eyes. Things came to a point where Jungkook literally did a backflip on the ground to get some reaction from him, but the elder was not even paying attention – blankly staring at the ground in front of him as the hairdresser worked in coloring his hair. Taehyung was feeling bad for Jungkook and worried for Jimin. The other night he left the studio without saying a word to anyone – except to Namjoon and Jin, but only because it was necessary. When he tried confronting the smaller guy this morning, he couldn’t get a proper explanation, because Jimin was falling asleep on his cereal bowl. “Did you even sleep?”, Taehyung asked while pushing the bowl away – so the boy wouldn’t get his face all wet and dirty – but for this one he also didn’t get an answer. They were changing their hairstyles, since the comeback was close, but not even that was seeming to put some life into Jimin. “Hey, what's up?” Taehyung approached him when Jeon decided to give himself a break. The now almost completely red-haired boy looked at him with weary eyes. “What do you mean?” his voice was hoarse. Taehyung realized in a sudden that that had been the first time he actually heard Jimin's voice in the day. “Come on, Jiminie.” he plopped down next to him, “You look terrible. What happened last night?” Jimin closed his eyes when the professional pushed his head back softly, so he could wash the product away. He stayed in silence for the whole process and Taehyung started wondering if he would ignore him for the third time in the past five hours, but when the tall man behind them closed the faucet, still with eyes shut he murmured, “Just tired. Really tired.” It was like Jimin had reached a level of somnolence in which his mind entered in some kind of trance, turning his words and movements slow. How is he even going to get through practice today? “Didn’t you sleep?” he answered a 'not really' throughout a yawn, “Where did you even go to, to begin with?” Jimin breathed for one second longer before opening his eyes to look at Taehyung. “Myeongie needed me.” “So much you couldn’t even get a night of proper sleep?” Jimin remained silent, so he persisted, “Isn’t this a bit selfish?” Taehyung couldn’t really say if he was seeing things or if it really happened, but Jimin's expression seemed to suddenly darken. “You wouldn’t know.” he closed his eyes again. Is he pissed? “Don’t recklessly call him selfish if you don’t even know what happened.” “I'm just caring about you!” “You don’t have to belittle other people to do so.” And that left him without words for a moment. He gulped the lowkey embarrassement when the realization that Jimin was right hit him. “God! Fine. I'm sorry, okay?” The coiffeur placed Jimin's head in a standing position to properly dry it. After using a soft towel, he turned on the dryer so any possibility of conversation died there, making Taehyung get up and return to his place. He was playing with Jin and Jungkook when Jimin's hair was done. “Woah!” the eldest hyung exclaimed. Taehyung jumped off his seat to cling onto Jimin. “If anyone dares, please tell me a person that is more beautiful than Jiminie?” he placed his left hand behind his ear like that'd make him listen more clearly “Oh, that's right, there's none!!!” he smiled his big smile and patted Jimin's hair “You look amazing! Army will love it.” Jimin smiled half shy half proud. He looked better. He didn’t say a word though, but Taehyung noticed a glance of expectant eyes directed to Jeon Jungkook. However, the boy was a bit frozen – atonished, almost –, his lips hanging partially open and his cheeks painted with a shade of red just as vivid as Jimin's hair color. “Ohh, that's Jungkook’s favorite color, right? What do you think, Jungkookie? It suits him?” Taehyung teased, with his arms still around Jimin's body. That question seemed to wake Jungkook up from a trance, so he averted his attention to everywhere else but Jimin’s face. “Y-yeah.” there was a slight tremble on his voice “It looks n-nice.” Jimin also looked away. “Thanks.” So obvious. Taehyung smirked, but kept his thoughts to himself. They'd figure it out along the way.

•••

In the meekness of the moonlit room, Jeon Jungkook was preparing himself to sleep when Kim Namjoon started snoring. “Fuck no.” it was impossible to contain the annoyed groan that followed afterwards. “It's okay, he'll stop.” He didn’t. Jungkook waited for five minutes, while trying all of the options to make his hyung silent, but when he gave up, Namjoon was already snoring so loud he could be heard by the dressing room. He sighed while picking up his pillow and blanket to sleep on the sofa. Again. It was already past midnight when someone appeared to make him company. Jungkook internally clutched his chest and had to put all the effort of his life to not coo. Jimin walked till him with partially closed eyes. And with bedhead. And crumpled face from sleep. And fucking sweat pants that made his whole body decrease into a little ball of infinite cuteness Jungkook wanted to squish like crazy. “Why are you up?” that goddamn raspy-sleepy voice reached his ears. Jimin was speaking in satoori. God was definitely testing Jungkook. He gulped. “It's late.” Jimin rubbed his eyes. How could a person be so fucking adorable and so fucking rude at the exact same time? It wasn’t fair. “Namjoon-hyung is snoring.” he wouldn’t mention that happened around an hour ago, and that he spent the entire time of the next one scrolling past twitter's timeline. Jimin checked the place looking for something, but when he didn’t find it he went back to his bedroom and returned dragging his blanket with tiny hands on the floor. “Hyung, what are you doing?” he heard himself asking while watching Jimin get all wrapped up in the duvet. When literally only his head was being seen, he walked towards the sofa and sat there without saying a word. Jungkook couldn’t help but laugh. “Seriously Jimin, what's this?” His eyes wided as he realized he didn’t use any honorifics. He was about to apologize when he saw Jimin's cheeks gain the brightest shade of red. That one he loved. He had to breath deeply so his heart would remember what it was there for: beat. And boy, it did. Furiously. “H-hyung. Jimin-hyung.” Jungkook corrected himself, eyes down, feeling his own cheeks burning, “I'm sorry.” Jimin took some seconds to speak. “It's okay.” his voice was small and soft. Jungkook wanted to hug him so bad – even more with that little fantasy of rice cake hugging his entire body. He never thought someone rolled up in a white blanket could be so damn adorable. “I don’t really mind.” he was still gazing at Jungkook, even though the younger was doing the possible to avoid eye contact. He was afraid his cheeks would combust if he did. 'I don’t really mind' means 'you can drop honorifics whenever you want to'? Probably not, but– “Jungkook-ah.” that hoarse voice surged again, forcing him to look up, “It's okay.” Their eyes met and it wasn’t like there was sparkles around them or anything, but it felt like it had on Jungkook’s stomach. “Yeah.” he breathed, “What... What are you doing, anyway?” he tried to change the subject, “You better go to sleep, hyung... You'll wake up early tomorrow.” “Yeah, you too. So I'm staying here until you sleep.” Oh... Wait– “What?” “Exactly what you heard. I'm your hyung, I gotta take care of you!” This time a smile asked permission to come and Jungkook didn’t fight it. “You know you look everything right now, but not a hyung, right?” he laughed sitting by his side. “Don’t laugh at me, I'm cold...” Jimin pouted lowering his eyes. Oh my god, Jungkook heard his inner voice cooing. His heart was going to explode and he blamed Park Jimin for it. “Looking even less like a hyung now.” he grinned, “Such a baby...” yes, he had to tease. It was extremely necessary for the balance of his world. “I'm not a baby, you are!” he was still pouting though and Jungkook didn’t have a single doubt that he'd be poiting a finger at his direction if the blanket wasn’t locking his entire body in it. So damn cute. “Okay, you're right, I am a baby.” “Yes.” Jungkook heard the elder murmuring, proudly agreeing like he had won their 'fight'. “And the baby here, is not even a little bit sleepy thanks to Namjoon-hyung, so I don’t really think you should keep me company, cause I'm gonna sleep pretty late.” “You just gave me more reasons to be here. It must be boring being here all alone doing nothing.” “Actually... I kinda was on twitter.” “Oh.” Jimin stopped for a moment and then got up, “I see, I see. I'll bother you, so it's better if I leave, right?” Shit. Why couldn’t Jungkook get his words out right at least once? He followed Jimin and reached out to grab his arm, but there was no arm for him to grab so he just grabbed his entire body instead. “Hyung, no! That's not what I meant, I... Would be really happy if you... Stayed here with me, but I don’t want you to be tired tomorrow...” Jungkook gave his best. He hoped that time he didn’t let anything misunderstood. Jimin turned around and Jungkook tried not to laugh but it was difficult while staring at a massive ball of cloth with human head. “I'm not gonna be tired though...” The younger suspiciously eyed him. “Oh, you swear?” “I swear!” “Okay, then...”

The clock struck two in the morning. Jimin was no longer tucked in the blanket, but that didn’t decrease his level of puppiness in any percent. His soft red hair was falling on his eyes as his mouth hanged open and he fisted on the air saying “one more time!”, making Jungkook chuckle. It was probably the 20th time they did arm wrestling and for sure it was the 20th time Jimin lost. Well, 21st now. “You're cheating!” Jungkook couldn’t stop laughing. “How could I possibly cheat on this?” “You're distracting me!!!” the maknae loved those days when Jimin was cluelessly all squishy and soft. It was funny because Jimin – like all of them, to be honest – always tried to give a good image to the fans – an image of an all grown up and sexy guy, the man army would want as their boyfriend –, but it was just so different when they were back at the dorm with just the members and no one else. Not that he wasn’t an all grown up and sexy guy, it was just that when they weren’t home he was too much aware of all the cameras around him, so he used to want to be like that all the time. Of course, this was slowly changing as he got more mature and now Jungkook almost didn’t notice when Jimin was playing for the camera. But thank god, he had never been like that at home. Jungkook loved all the Jimins he'd known until now, but he specially loved the domestic one. He loved to watch him walking on casual clothes, with messy hair and earphones on, dancing like no one was there while using his phone as a microphone to sing. Sometimes Jungkook would watch him silently from afar in a corner, and sometimes he'd approach him just to have an opportunity to tease. Either way, it was always adorable. Or when he was sitting on a random place with his glasses on, reading a book – unconscious of his surroundings, too much emerged in the story. Or also when he was walking only with his pants on around the house – it was definitely not because of the bare chest – and suddenly stopped by the kitchen and tried to risk something to cook. Most of the times, he'd burn everything, but once – on a miracle day – he made the tastiest cookies Jungkook had ever put into his mouth. There was also a very delicious cream, so they made sandwiches with it – to the delight of both. The two of them were the only ones in the house that day, which made everything better because they ate it all alone. “How so?” Jungkook shook his reveries away. “You keep laughing, I can't concentrate!” Jimin was trying to sound pissed, but he was smiling like an idiot. “Are you saying my laugh distracts you?” Wait. What? What did I just say? Did I flirt? With Jimin?! Jesus christ, someone please give me a hole so I can bury my whole head in it, like, now! Jimin's ears were burning and he fell speechless for a second. “No! I mean! Yes, but–“ he lowered his eyes “It's just that it makes me laugh too...” he was playing with his own little fingers and Jungkook barely heard his voice “I'm not strong when I laugh...” The maknae bit his lip. Fuck. “When are you strong then, Jimin?” he couldn’t help it. Something about the atmosphere had switched a button on the bottom of his belly and the amount of tingles on it was driving him nuts. He was craving the increasingly flush on Jimin's cheeks – how the boy couldn’t stop wandering with his eyes everywhere else but Jungkook's face. He was craving that small voice, being all shy and flustered – for Jungkook. He was craving the intimacy, that's why he used such a low tone and dropped the honorific – Jimin said it was okay, right? And he wasn’t going to lie, it was purposeful, but just because he was simply loving to get all those reactions out of him. Jungkook was needy to tease. However, it was a different kind of tease. The one that would make Jimin blush and bit his lower lip, just like he was doing in that moment. So soft... Jimin moistened his dry lips with his tongue and Jungkook forced himself to look away, because he almost let an unusual sound crawl out of his throat. What the fuck is happening? “Stop it already... I...don’t know, maybe when I'm working out at the gym?” he was still not making eye contact, “I used to be stronger than you, I don’t know what happened...” “I grew up.” Jungkook answered with no hesitation. He wanted Jimin to realize that, he needed Jimin to realize that. “Yeah...” the red haired boy glanced at him for a brief moment, “I know that already...” The silence suddenly struck the room bringing with it a tiny bit of guilty on Jungkook's gut. Maybe he went too far? He was just playing around, right? Because it was fun seeing Jimin not knowing what to do... Yes, it was definitely this. “It's late... Maybe we should try to sleep.” Jimin's voice filled the place. Jungkook simply nooded not knowing what to say. “Well...” the elder picked up his blanket from the couch, “Good night...” he was walking to his bedroom, but there was a slight mist of awkwardness hanging in the air. “Hyung!” Jungkook called in a spur of courage, “I'm sorry if... If I went too far. I was just teasing you, but I'm sorry if it was too much...” the stain on the wooden table was probably very interesting because Jungkook's eyes couldn’t look anywhere else. Even though, he felt Jimin smiling. He felt the warmth of it. “It's okay, you didn’t went too far at all.” He didn’t have to look to know Jimin was giving him the eye smile he loved so much. “Goodnight, Kookie.” “Goodnight, hyung.” That night, Jungkook fell asleep smiling.

•••

The smell of fresh pancakes filled the place when he opened the door. “Jiminie?” he was the only person who also had the keys. “In the kitchen!” Myeong smiled and got rid of his shoes. His bag was letf on the same spot as the pair of black snickers. It was nice to arrive home after a long day of work and find out there was someone cooking pancakes for you. “When did you learn to put something on the pan without instantly burning it up?” “Shut up.” Myeong heard a smile on Jimin's voice, “I worked hard, okay? I even looked for the recipe on Naver!” He found a seat on the counter and observed Jimin's back while his legs swayed in the air. “Aww, when did you become so sweet?” “Hey!” Jimin glanced at him over his shoulder for a moment, “I've always been sweet, you punk!” A giggle escaped his lips, “Yeah, right...” It was kinda absurd now to think that he was able to live for two years without the presence of that tiny human being in his life. Jimin changed a lot. Not only physically – he was more mature than Myeong expected him to be. Of course he was never going to let these thoughts come out loud – the both of them could be close, but he sill respected Jimin as a hyung...sometimes –, yet, being two years young, Myeong was very aware he used to be more mature than Jimin when they were kids. Maybe he still was, but he grew used to it. He had always been more mature than all the people of his age anyway. It was not a problem. It just made him surprised to know how Jimin's mind worked and processed things now. The silence was comfortable, but the elder boy was shifting his feet and avoiding the younger's eyes. “What is it?” A little more bit of silence before Jimin put the pancakes on a plate and turned over to look at him. “I deposited 556,500 won in your account.” he spilled at once. “You what?” Myeong jumped off to the ground. “Look– Listen...” he put the plate on the table apparently nervous, but confident “I did this because I wanted to, okay? Please, accept...” Myeong was incredulous. 556,500 won? “I don’t want your money. That’s not why I–“ “I know...” Jimin breathed a little deeper, “Myeongie, I know... It's just... It's... Oh! It’s your 2 years birthday presents! You can’t deny them!” he was smiling now after finding an excuse. Evil. “That's so low, Park Jimin...” “...does that mean you’re accepting it?” Myeong laughed. His best friend was really a thing. “I hate you a lot.” Jimin choked with a mute offended sound, placing his hand over his chest. Idiot. “Is this what I get from you? After I cooked you pancakes?!” “Shut up...” he couldn’t fight the smile, “Let's see if they taste good like your mother's...” Myeong teased looking out for a fork. “You know that's physically impossible. She's a goddess, no one can beat her.” “Well, that's true.” But it tasted delicious. Absolutely delicious. Not like Jimin's mother's, of course, but still delicious. Myeong felt an unusual warmth spreading through his whole face. It had been a while since someone did so many nice things for him. He could cry, but he didn’t want Jimin to worry. “Jimin-ah...” he was mouth-full, so he took a time to swallow it, “Thank you... Really. For everything.” Jimin laughed it off. He never really knew how to deal well with thank yous. “What for? I'm just taking care of you, let's not make a big deal out of this...” “Okay...” he ate another piece, “It tastes amazing by the way. See? I always knew you could cook!” “Not really. Today is entering on my list of miracle days. Until now, it only had happened one time with Jungkookie “ “Huh, really? And what Jungkook said about it?” “He ate almost all of my cookies, that brat.” They both laughed when Jimin's phone suddenly sent vibrations on the table. “Oh! Speaking of the devil.” He picked up. “Hello...” Jimin singsonged and Myeong just observed him in silence while filling his mouth with the food. “No, I'm with Myeongie... Yes... Not really, I just came to check if he wasn’t dead or starving.” Myeong rolled his eyes and mouthed 'I can take care of myself' making Jimin laugh, “What? Sorry, Myeong distracted me... Oh no no, I'll go home soon, don’t worry! Yes, I'm having dinner with you guys. Okay... Hey, Jungkook! You won’t believe me... I just had another miracle day... Yes! I cooked pancakes! And Myeongie said they taste amazing!” there was a pause and Myeong could hear Jungkook's voice on the other side of the line saying 'that's great, hyung', but he didn’t really seem excited, “Yes!” however, Jimin was cluelessly smiling, “Okay, bye! I'll be home soon! Bye.” He happily hung up. “What did he say?” Myeong asked. “He said this is great! Is great, right? Let me have some of it, so I'll know you're not lying!” he leaned on the table with his mouth open. Such a baby. “Say 'ahh'”. Myeong teased bringing the fork into his mouth, even though Jimin already had it opened. He knew his hyung was about to call him idiot when he chewed the piece of pancake in his mouth and wided his eyes. “Ohhh!!! It really is delicious!! Did I cook this? For real?” Myeong laughed. “No, I did. Telepathically.” “Fuck off.” mouth-filled-Jimin said. “Okay, but have some more.” “No, it's ok–“ Myeong stuffed more pancake into his mouth before he could complain. Three times. “You need to eat well, you know that, right?” he couldn’t help but to worry about him. He used to have some weird habits about losing weight. “I do! I'm eating well, I already told you... I moved on this phase, okay?!” “Sure you did.” he brought the fork to the red haired boy's face one last time, “Come on then.” “It doesn’t mean I have to eat everyt–“ “Yes, good boy.” Jimin furrowed his brows. “I hate you.” his muffled voice reached Myeong's ears making him giggle. Myeong ate the remaining pieces on the plate and then walked till the sink to wash it. He took a glance of the clock on the wall on his way. “It's pretty late, you should get going...” He heard Jimin getting up from the chair behind him. “You're right. The guys are waiting for me.” Myeong left the plate there and turned to look at him. “Hey... I know you said to... You know... Not make a big deal, but...” shit. His eyes were tearing up, “Thank you, Jiminie... Really.” The blush spreaded over Jimin's cheeks. “Aish, what are you sayin– oh my god, are you crying?!” he rushed over to Myeong, who gave him his back. “Not really.” he rubbed his eyes, “Don’t worry, it's nothing.” but he felt soft arms bringing him closer. “Hey... Don’t cry. Everything is okay, right? Everything is gonna be okay, I told you...” Myeong sniffed trying to shove the tears away. “Yeah...” his voice was small. Honestly, he wanted to cry alone. He didn’t want to be even more of a burden to his friend. “It's okay, you can go, Jungkook is waiting for you.” Jimin let go off him slowly. Mentioning Jungkook always brought funny reactions out of him. Myeong could bet he was blushing. He tried to smile so Jimin would think everything was okay and seized the opportunity to change subject. “Yes, like everyone...” Jimin muttered looking down. “Exactly.” he picked up Jimin's bag on the couch while rubbing his eyes a little more, because they were still teary, “Here, be careful on the way back.” “Okay... Sure you alright?” Jimin suspiciously asked trying to make eye contact. Myeong did, just to assure him. “Yes. Thank you again.” “Aish, stop thanking me already.” he complained while walking to the exit, “And don’t sleep late today!” “Okay, mom.” Myeong opened the door for him, “Bye, Jiminie.” “I'll come back next week.” Jimin told him, “This time you're cooking.” “'kay. Just try not to make your boyfriend too jealous.” “My– what?” Myeong chuckled. Teasing Jimin always made him feel better. “You know what I'm talking about. Go home, he is waiting.” “I– I... You're an asshole, you know that, right?” Myeong giggled, closing the door. “Goodnight, Jiminie.”

•••

Periods of comeback were always crazy, but Jungkook had never – not even once – got irritated by people spending too much time at the practice room. However, like he used to hear when he was a child, every rule had its exceptions. It was thursday. And as if the hot weather wasn’t already enough to make him lowkey cranky, all the members were still practicing, even after the clock pointed midnight. He and Jimin didn’t get to exchange a single word since they arrived and now, apparently, they wouldn’t be able to spend their practice night together, so yeah, he was pretty pissed. But externally he was blaming the comeback stress – after all, some things couldn’t be said out loud, he realized a little time ago. For example, how Jimin's muscles were so beautifully drawn under his sweaty tshirt. Not that he was staring or anything. He also wasn’t counting the minutes wondering how much more time everyone would spend there, but fifteen had already passed since midnight – just for reference. The first one to decide to leave – not fifteen, thirty minutes later – was Yoongi, followed by Jimin shortly thereafter. Jungkook tried to stop his heart from falling, but he couldn’t. “Hyung, are you leaving?!” he ran till him without second thoughts. Jimin looked at him almost as if he was relieved. “Guess we won’t have our night today.” he forced a smile, “You didn’t come to me until now, so I thought it was better to go home or something...” “Well, I... I was waiting for everyone to leave...” Jungkook shuffled his feet, his heart beating furiously for no apparent reason, “B-but are you tired? Cause... Like... We don’t necessarily need to spend it here, we can... go to... another place...” okay, maybe there was an apparent reason “I mean, if you want to, of course.” Jungkook hurried to complete. Jimin’s face was a mystery for two seconds before he smiled the sweetest smile ever and giggled like the purest angel he was. “Yeah, this is not a practice night anymore since a long time, is more like a dat–“ the word stopped in his throat when he realized what he was actually saying, “Anyway...” he fastly changed topics expecting the maknae didn’t notice, “We totally can go somewhere else! Where do you think is a good place?” Jungkook scratched the back of his neck feeling excitement and anxiety bubbling up in his chest all together. “What about ice cream?”

•••

Jungkook knew guys couldn’t really go on dates. Not romantic ones, at least. They weren’t on a date. But he wished so. “Hyung, not this one, it tastes awful!” “But it paints my tongue bluuue...” Jimin whined by his side. “Aish, I can’t believe this...” he couldn’t help but smile, “How old are you again?” “I don’t care, you're not the one paying for it anyway.” the older showed his tongue. Showed. His. Tongue. 5 years old indeed.

“Jungkook...” They were sitting on the soft grass; moon reflecting and illuminating the whole extension of han river in front of them. “What?” “This is no good...” Jimin pointed to his ice cream with a yucky face. “Agh!” Jungkook threw his head back in disbelief “No way! Hyung! I told you!” but he was laughing out loud, despite his failed attempt of sounding angry. “Stop laughing!” Jimin pouted “I don’t want this anymore, it's bad!” “Aish, this is absurd...” the younger was still laughing, now placing his hand over his belly, “Come on, I'll buy you another one.” He got up cleaning his pants. “Really?” Jimin's shining eyes totally paid off Jungkook's financial loss, “Oh, I have such a good dongsaeng...” “No.” Jungkook helped him, holding his hand and pulling him up, “I refuse to be called dongsaeng by you after this.” He pretended to not notice the proximity of their chests and the fact Jimin kept their hands together. “Hah? You brat! I'm older, you know?” “I'm definitely not the baby of this relationship. I refuse.” They were so close, smiles almost mingling into one another. “Of course you are! You're my baby, did you forget?!” Jungkook giggled, and even though they were faking a fight, their voices were getting lower – closer. “I can’t possibly be the baby when you act like this...” “Like this what?” “Like... Like a mochi.” this time he grinned, his noise crinkling that way Jimin was so deep down in love with, ”You're like a mangaetteok, hyung.” For some reason, Jungkook's heart was pounding like it was about to explode. His breaths were leaving him increasingly lightheaded, when in a silence awe – while the soft cheeks he was staring at got painted with the most delicate shade of pink – he realized Jimin was the most beautiful person he ever knew. It wasn’t an euphemism – as frightening as it was. It was the purest truth and Jungkook couldn’t understand why it took him so long to see. It was so clear now. His creamy skin glowing under the moonlit, his plump red lips shining with the sweetness of the ice cream he hated, his long and thin eyelashes framing the black deep sea that was his eyes... Everything was beautiful about Park Jimin. Even the stinging pain he propitiated on the back of Jungkook’s gut. He felt their fingers intertwining, so he scooted his face closer out of instinct – the deserted city of lights surrounding them as if they were the only people in the world. “Are you not buying me that ice cream?” Jimin breathed into his mouth running his lungs out of air. “Y-yeah.” Jungkook could barely whisper, “What flavor now?” but he could feel his fingertips and the back of his neck tingling; anticipating something. “Choose for me.” the low tone was driving him crazy. Jimin licked his lips and Jungkook's eyes couldn’t help but fall on them – red-ish and full, so perfectly delineated on his face and so temptingly close. “What about this one?” his voice failled mid-way the setence, ending in a brief whisper. “Which one?” The moment was held by a deafening silence hanging in the air, before Jungkook's voice surged like a flood. “This.” He couldn’t think of anything when their mouths crashed together, hungerly desiring for each other, Jimin's lips plush and soft against his own, hands searching for Jungkook's hair just to pull it back and whisper into him, “Let me taste it.” His lips parted open so fast – just a second before Jimin's tongue licked in it, the contrast of icy and hot sending shivers down his spine. His mind was spinning and he couldn’t bring himself to believe he was kissing Jimin and that Jimin was kissing him back – gripping his hair onto his hand like he needed that just as much as Jungkook did. The younger placed his hands on his hyung’s waist and squeezed it, pressing their bodies closer, harder, holding him firm, as if he eased the touch Jimin would fade away. Maybe there was a little bit too much of wetness and tongue, but the sensation of their mouths moving on one another was plenty to get Jungkook feeling sparkles exploding on the tip of his belly. When Jimin bit on his bottom lip, they were forced to pull apart, breathless and dizzily gasping for air, warm skins clasped together. The silence of the night wasn’t enough to make them uncomfortable or scared of consequences – they were drowned in their own particular world in which not even a leaf could get into. “So?” Jungkook didn’t know where that courage to speak first came from, “What about it?” “Yeah...” he was personally proud he was the reason Jimin was still trying to find a proper way to catch his breath, “It's sweet.” “Too bad it's now melting on the floor.” he looked down, watching the white liquid spread through the grass. “Oh.” Jimin laughed softly, “We're talking about the ice cream?” Jungkook looked back at him just in time to catch those beautiful eyes turning into thin lines of smiling eyelashes, “Guess you'll have to buy two now.” For a moment – the briefest of them – Jungkook lost himself on Jimin’s eyes, on Jimin's smile. He was seriously the most beautiful creature. “You're... pretty.” he tightened his arms around the smaller's waist, “Really... pretty...” “What?” Jimin forced a laugh while blushing and looking away. So damn pretty. “No.” Jungkook cupped his sharp jawline and pulled his face back, “Look at me.” His cheeks were also burning, but he couldn’t help it. The pace of his heart was far away from anything healthy, but all he could think of was how he wanted to feel Jimin's mouth pressed against his one more time. He was missing the touch already. “Hyung...” Kiss me. “I–“ A loud buzz cut through the night with a shrill sound. Jungkook took a while to realize it was Jimin's phone vibrating in his pocket. “I should...” their bodies separated abruptly, leaving traces of a missing warmth on his skin, “You know... Yeah...” It was when Jimin walked away and muttered a low 'oh, hi hyung' that reality struck him with a bucket of cold water in the face. Jungkook nervously looked around, searching for any living thing that could have possibly witnessed their little moment of absolute foolishness, but thank god, there was no one to be seen. “Yes. Okay, hyung, bye.” Jungkook catched up with the last part of the conversation before Jimin hung up. He didn’t look Jungkook in the eyes when he said Yoongi told them to go home because it was late. He didn’t say anything else after this apart from 'we should get going'. They made their way back with 5 feet of distance between them. Jungkook didn’t try to get closer or say a word; too terrified to speak. He was having to deal with his own inner demons leaving his throat dry and mind dizzy, while fighting with all his strength to not break into tears and shaky sobs. The dark sky, before refreshing and peaceful was now numbing and scary, hiding all the deepest secrets Jungkook never wanted to drown in before. He just wished to run away; be carried by the wind blowing his hair so softly and never be forced to face that kind of introspection again.

•••

Life could be a living hell sometimes. Jungkook was going crazy. The suffocating gut wrenching feeling that he didn’t know himself anymore wouldn’t live his mind, it didn’t matter how hard he tried. The constant need to cry and scream wouldn’t leave his body either. His school life was a mess and he couldn’t stop thinking about how dirty he was, for shamelessly kissing a boy like that, for letting his imagination wander through things he should have never ever considered tolerable. And to make it all worse – Jimin wasn’t talking to him. Maybe it was better like that, but Jungkook was already missing him so much it was painful. Not that it was reciprocal. Jimin was apparently living his life normally; apart the fact they lived together and Jungkook hadn’t seen his face in two days. It was not a hyperbole. Jimin was definitely avoiding him, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel angry, just unbelievably sad. Jimin was disgusted, Jungkook assumed. Disgusted of him. Sure he kissed Jungkook back that night, but it probably had been only the haze of the moment. And it didn’t really matter if that was or wasn’t what Jimin was truly feeling about him, because in the end it was only the truth. He remembered pretty well a conversation his grandpa and his father had when he was doing his homework on the living room with seven years old. “Did you hear about Jisoo's son? Poor woman... like it wasn’t enough losing her husband to alcohol...” Jungkook heard his dad complain but didn’t pay much attention to it. Adult talk was always boring. “What do you mean? What happened? Did he die?!” His grondpa's seemed truly worried. “No way...” “No dad, that's not it! He's...” there was a pause that got Jungkook curious. The fact his dad lowered his voice to continue the sentence only inicited him more to know what happened. “He's with a man...” The little boy frowned in confusion. What was wrong with that? Couldn’t men be friends? “Oh... Gosh...” there was pure pish on his grandpa's tone this time, “It would have been better dead... If it was my son I'd beat him up until I knocked some sense into him. These young people... Each day more and more easily influenced by those western freaks.” Jungkook's eyes wided with the impact of the information. Was it really so wrong having a friendship with a man?! He didn’t want to be a bad kid, but he was so shocked he couldn’t help but to turn around and ask: “Dad, what's wrong with that?! Can't I be with a man too? Dohyunie is my friend, does this mean I have to stop talking to him?!” They both laughed and Jungkook just couldn’t bring himself to understand. “Oh kids... They're so pure...” his dad stopped laughing to explain. “No son... Even though it was rude of you to interrupt two adults talking, that's not what we're talking about. Jisoo's son is dating a man. Like mom and dad or grandma and grandpa. They kiss and do things like this. It's disgusting.” Still... He didn’t understand. Sure he had never seen two men dating, but why was it wrong if they liked each other? “Why?” Both of them seemed shocked, but it was his grandpa who took the lead. “What do you mean 'why', kid?!” he exploded and Jungkook recoiled on his chair “God created man and woman to be together, do you think it's acceptable going against god's laws?! Huh?! And no more questions, you're already wrong enough, go back to your homework!” He just silently nooded and obeyed, too embarrassed to even apologize for having been scolded like that. His grandpa barely visited them and he already passed such a wrong image. Even though he only made a simple question. It was not like it was a big deal. He understood it now – they couldn’t be together, because god didn’t create them to do so. Right? Such a simple answer. He couldn’t understand why he made such a fuss about it. But Jungkook did now. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t terrified. What would his family think? What would their fans think? He focused on breathing through his nose, because it seemed like he was about to have a panic attack. It's okay. Everything is fine, it was just an one night attraction thing and of course it's already bad, but it's not the end of the world. I like girls. I have always liked girls, so it's fine. Everything's under control. One... two... three... breath... One, two, three. Breath. One, tw– “Jungkook?” he opened his eyes startled, “You okay?” Namjoon had a worried gaze directed at him. “Oh. Yes, hyung. Thanks... Just... School stuff.” “Oh, I see. Do you need any help?” “No, no. Don't worry. I'm fine.” “Okay then. I'll be on my laptop, but you can call me if you change your mind, okay?” “Yeah...” He tried getting rid of his reveries since Namjoon was now also in the room, so he started randomly watching music videos on youtube. He needed new musics to listen to anyway. He was past seven musics when Taehyung messaged him.

Tae-hyung – 6:59 pm come 2 my room lets play wii or smth im boreddd :-(

You – 7:00 pm i have to study, hyung

Tae-hyung – 7:00 pm liar bet you're playing piano tales or on youtube pleaseeee :-( don’t say no to ur hyung jiminie abandoned me please

You – 7:00 pm what do u mean?

Tae-hyung – 7:01 pm he's acting weird idk he appeared here just now and i was like finally where have u been and he was all abt sorry tae tae talk to u later gotta do some stuff

You – 7:01 pm did he ask abt me?

Tae-hyung – 7:01 pm so i asked what stuff and he just said myeongie and left no why would he seriously im starting to get a little pissed bc im not rly the jealous type

You – 7:01 pm you're definitely the jealous type

Tae-hyung – 7:02 pm but i just wanted to spend some time with him but he is all about myeong these days im not !!

You – 7:02 pm um yeah he is

Tae-hyung – 7:02 pm so??? are u coming??

You – 7:03 pm sorry hyung but i really have to study my exams are close, i have to study while we're having days off

Tae-hyung – 7:03 pm rejected twice at the same night :-( by his two best friends kim taehyung out

Jungkook sighed. He was feeling more anxious than before, his stomach wrapping up into a tiny and tight ball of pain and uneasiness. He stared at the screen of his cellphone for 10 minutes before he finally had the courage to click send.

You – 7:17 pm hyung

Though, he stared longer waiting for his answer. At 7:32 pm the seen sign showed up on Jungkook’s screen, holding his breath on his throat. Jiminie-hyung is typing... Jungkook thought his heart was going to stop. It would be the first time they talked in two days, the first time since it happened. But why was he taking so long to reply? It was easy, right? Just typing a quick 'hey' or 'what'. When the new message finally popped up on his screen he tried to slowly realease his pent up breath.

Jiminie-hyung – 7:33 pm Hey Jungkook! Myeong here! Sorry, Jiminie can't answer now, he went to the supermarket to grab some things and forgot his phone. Do you need something? Is it important?

One minute passed. Two. Three. Jungkook still couldn’t bring himself to answer. If Jimin was out, he could have answered the message when he arrived, right? There was no need for Myeong to do that for him, so why did he do it? Jungkook wanted to cry; he just wanted to talk to Jimin, that was all. He was missing him so much. So freaking much. Why couldn’t he answer him? Why couldn’t he stop avoiding him? Jungkook knew he was an object of disgust... He knew, but... It was not fair... Not at all... It was so fucking unfair... He only noticed the tears on his eyes when they fell on the screen's surface.

You – 7:40 pm no sorry it's nothign nothing*

Jungkook curled up on his bed after locking his phone. It vibrated seconds later, but he didn’t have to unlock it to read in the lockscreen: Jiminie-hyung – 2 new messages. He dragged his finger down on the app's icon to make them visible. Okay then! Good night! The phone was dropped, falling with a mute sound on the duvet. Jungkook closed his eyes and wished to disappear.

•••

“Don't do this to him!” Myeong's voice resounded through the room for the the n th time. “But what am I supposed to do then?!” “Well, answer?” “No! I can’t! Please, Myeongie! It has passed fifteen minutes already, I'm freaking out!” Jimin whined. He fucking whined. He was really succeeding at getting his best friend pissed. “Answer him then!” “No!” “God fucking dammit Jimin! Give me this shit!” His phone was ripped off his hand and Jimin sighed in relief. He watched his best friend's expression soften while he typed an answer to Jungkook. Jimin knew it was wrong. He knew he was being a childish asshole. But he was scared – so scared of facing Jungkook again after... After that. “So? Did he answer? What did he say?” Jimin couldn’t stop the anxiety bubbling up on his belly. “He saw the message, but... He's not typing anything.” Myeong was still looking at the screen, waiting for an answer. “Oh, give me that! What did you tell him?” But he read it himself. “God! That's the worst lame excuse ever!” “Good! I should have told him a truck ran over you! Oh no! Better! I should have pretended I was you so you'd be fucking obligated to answer him! God! Why are you so stubborn?!” Jimin looked back at him offended. “I'm not! Shut up! It's just–“ “I alreary told you he's not angry with you! How many times should I repeat? God, he has never faced this before, he's probably just scared! Even more with this asshole he calls hyung avoiding him!” Jimin was filled up with too many feelings and emotions on his throat to form any sentence or words to defend himself. He also was internally fighting the fact Myeong was right. He wouldn’t just easily admit it, but Jimin was the one and only jerk of that entire story. Too much of a coward to face his own feelings, let alone Jungkook’s. His phone vibrated on his hand as he drowned in guilt, snapping him out of his thoughts and making him unlock it and open the message app in a blink of an eye.

Jungkookie – 7:40 pm no sorry it's nothign nothing*

Jimin swallowed the sadness on the back of his throat and shakily typed an 'Okay then! Good night!' “He's hurt.” Myeong stated. Like Jimin needed anyone to state him the obvious. “I know.” “Text him back. Say you're home. Talk to him, Jimin, I'm serious... Nothing will get fixed up if you just keep running away from this. We talked about it already.” He let out a tired sigh and repeated, defeated, “I know.” “I'll take a shower now... Do whatever you think it's better, but just keep Jungkook's feelings in mind.” Myeong headed to the bathroom before Jimin could whisper a broken 'I always do' – more to himself than to anyone. It took him seven minutes to start typing a text and five more to send it.

You – 7:55 pm hey i’m home what is it?

Two minutes passed. Seen. Jungkookie is typing...

Jungkookie – 7:57 pm just wanted to know where you were yoongi-hyung asked

You – 7:57 pm im at myeong's house

Jungkookie – 7:58 pm well yeah i know that now

Jimin blankly stared at the screen for some seconds, thinking about what to say. He tried not to panic when he realized he had nothing. A solid minute passed with both of them online without saying anything when Jungkook finally started to type.

Jungkookie – 7:59 pm goodnight then

You – 7:59 pm no wait jungkook

When Jimin said nothing more Jungkook typed a '?', making him gulp. What the hell was he going to say? His heart was pouding against his ribcage so hard he almost forgot how to breath. It was when the image of the whole reason why they were acting strange with each other came to his mind. The feeling of Jungkook’s lips against his own, his hands against his body, his tongue licking into his warm mouth – everything appeared in a rush, turning his cheeks pink and his throat dry.

You – 8:01 pm how have you been?

God. If there is such a thing like mercy in this world please make it punch me in the face.

Jungkookie – 8:01 pm good you?

You – 8:01 pm yeah me too

Jungkookie – 8:01 pm cool

Awkward. Jimin wanted to hide, deep embarrassement soaking him to his fingertips. Two minutes passed again, none of them saying anything, but both refusing to leave.

Jungkookie – 8:03 pm hyung what's this

You – 8:03 pm im sorry i dont know im stupid, you can go i have nothing to say im sorry

The words 'Jungkookie is typing...' appeared and disappeared three times on the top of the screen, getting Jimin extra nervous, before the message finally showed up.

Jungkookie – 8:04 pm i miss you

Oxygen was knocked out of Jimin's lungs as his heart tried to beat time in a race. It didn’t take longer than a bat of eyelashes for him to eagerly reply.

You – 8:04 pm i miss you too

Jungkookie – 8:05 pm im so sorry for kissing you i know you're disgusted but i wont do it again

You – 8:05 pm what omg jungkookie no

Jungkookie – 8:05 pm i promise

You – 8:05 pm how could i be disgusted of you what are you talking about

Jungkookie – 8:05 pm so please let's be normal again im missing you so bad i dont know im a guy

You – 8:06 pm so?

Jungkookie – 8:06 pm we're friends i dont know hyung im sorry i just want us to be us again please i dont like it when you avoid me i feel so sad

You – 8:06 pm oh god jungkook im so sorry im an asshole you were right, i dont deserve the hyung title look at how i made u feel im so sorry

Jungkookie – 8:07 pm i never said that it's not your fault, hyung it's okay

You – 8:07 pm no, it's not! listen i could never never be disgusted of you believe me okay? there's no way

Jungkookie – 8:08 pm ...okay

You – 8:08 pm promise me you'll never think that again

Jungkookie – 8:08 pm i wont

You – 8:08 pm promise

Jungkookie – 8:09 pm i promise

You – 8:09 pm good how's school?

It was random, Jimin knew, but he wanted to get over that subject. It made both him and Jungkook sad and awkward when they only wanted to be comfortable again. He also could have only said goodbye, so the matter would die there, but he didn’t want to stop talking like that. He wanted Jungkook to know things were okay. He wanted Jungkook to know they were okay.

Jungkookie – 8:09 pm a mess it sucks

You – 8:10 pm want help?

Jungkookie – 8:10 pm tell me more about ur unbelievably amazing math skills

You – 8:10 pm hey! brat

Jungkookie – 8:10 pm kkkkk it's okay it's not like im having problems with this it's just too many things to focus on im stressed

You – 8:11 pm wanna hang out? do something just us so you can relax

Jimin tried to sound the most casual he could, so it wouldn’t seem like he was about to have a cardiac arrest.

Jungkookie – 8:11 pm okay karaoke and movie?

You – 8:11 pm karaoke and movie

Jungkookie – 8:12 pm okay i have to study now

You – 8:12 pm okay

Jungkookie – 8:12 pm hyung?

You – 8:12 pm yeah?

Jungkookie – 8:13 pm when are u coming home?

You – 8:13 pm today

Jungkookie – 8:13 pm okay goodnight hyung

You – 8:13 pm goodnight jungkookie

•••

The air was thick with the heat of Seoul, even though it was night already. Jimin felt relieved when he opened the door of the bedroom and felt cold nice air refresh his hot body. He silently made his way in, since the two people in there were already asleep. He gulped his nervousness and walked to the bed on the right corner of the wall. The boy was peacefully sleeping, strands of his hair falling on the soft pillow, and a few of them resting on his forehead. Jimin sweetly brushed his hand over it, pushing the strands back, completely exposing the skin of the younger's forehead. He wanted to kiss it, but when he leaned closer Jungkook lazily opened his eyes. “Hyung?” he mumbled in a sleepy voice. “Hey.” Jimin whispered, “I'm home.” Jungkook rubbed his eyes for a better vision as a slight smile appeared on his lips, “You're late. I was waiting.” Jimin smiled, unable to contain the happiness that that information brought him, “Sorry,” he leaned more to speak lower, almost on Jungkook’s ear, “I'm here now. Would you mind if I slept with you?” Jungkook's eyes stared at him for some seconds, his face crumpled from sleep, his messy hair and his beautiful parted lips, every single feature of him begging for Jimin to touch, to caress. It was the first time they really looked at each other – eye on eye since they kissed – and Jimin was having to fight a difficult battle against the tentation of drowning in Jungkook again. He was about to say something else when the younger lifted the blanket and moved away, just enough for Jimin's body to fit on the bed glued to his. Jimin breathed in relief when Jungkook’s arms closed around his waist, bringing him closer. He felt Jungkook burying his nose on his hair and breathing in his scent while tightening the hug, as if Jimin could slip away at any moment. He didn’t say a word, none of them said a word, but they didn’t need any to understand they were safe again, protected on each other's personal world, guarded by firm arms and solid love. Even if it was just for one night – at that moment, Jungkook was his and he was Jungkook's. And that was enough.

•••

The cold weather finally made its return. It wasn’t snowing, but Jimin would need more than one jacket to go outside. He was trying to fight the smile creeping his lips, but happiness was overflowing from him. It felt like a date. Not that it was. But it felt like one. He chose the perfume Jungkook always said it smelled good – applying just the right amount on his neck, wrists and back of his ears. His clothes were on point too – he didn’t understand why he was worrying so much about it, but the tiniest imperfection would drive him crazy until he got rid of it. The only thing pissing him off was his hair, but after 2 hours of sweat and tears he finally got all strands in place. Not that he started to get ready two hours ago. Please. He had more things to do, obviously... Jimin checked himself on the mirror for the last time and walked off his room, looking out for his phone. He found it vibrating on the coach. The first thing he realized was the time. Jesus, he was going to get late! They said 7 pm was a good time, but it was already 6:45 pm and Jimin hadn’t even called the cab. The second thing was, he was running out of battery. 4% and decreasing faster. He was about to look for his charger, when the phone vibrated again on his hand, drawing his attention to the 12 unread messages and 3 missed calls. Jimin unlocked the phone with certain uneasiness and fear spreading through the length of his spine. He clicked on the icon of the twelve messages and his body instantly froze when they showed up. He was paralyzed for three seconds, before his fingers quickly dialed the number his mother always obligated him to remember. He was about to click on the last number when his phone died. His heart was bumping on his throat. “No, no, no, no.” He mumbled while tapping everywhere on the screen, “No!” his voice sounded louder than ever on the silent house. Everyone was out. “Fuck!” Jimin looked at the clock hanging on the wall. Jungkook was probably already on his way. He had to stay at school the whole day, so they decided to meet on the park next to the karaoke place. Jimin couldn’t even warn him he was going to get late. He considered searching for his charger just to do so, when the messages resounded on his mind again, making the blood stop running in his veins. He felt his skin losing color. It was when despair punched him in the face. What am I doing? Jimin grabbed the keys resting on the table faster than a heartbeat and ran off the door, closing it with a loud, suffocating sound. I'm sorry.

•••

Jungkook's entire day had been books, study, listen, exercises and school. He'd call it a hell if it wasn’t on the same day he and Jimin decided to go out. But since they did, the day had been wonderful. Every knowledge seemed like a gift, every classmate friendly like never before. That was, on the first two hours. After, time dragged tortuously slow, and then crawled like a lazy snake. He tried to focus on what he had to do, what he had to learn, but his mind was full of useless questions, such as: what kind of jacket Jimin would wear, if it'd have sweaterpaws or not – he hoped it would –, if he was going to wear a beanie and a scarf since it was cold... Jungkook was so lost in his own world that he got startled when everyone around him suddenly got up and started to pack their things. He stared surpised at his phone showing it was already 5:30 pm – time for him to leave. The smile on his face was very welcomed along with the loud heartbeats on his ear. He felt his fingertips tingling as he put everything that was on his desk inside his backpack, paying no mind if things were settled straight or not. He showered and changed his clothes on the locker room. He was wearing a tshirt Jimin once said it was his favorite. The perfume was also the best one Jungkook had – a fan gave it to him and it smelled so good he actually felt sorry for using. But not that day. He looked at his image on the blurry mirror and smiled with antecipation. It'd be such a great night. They'd go to the karaoke, have a lot of fun, like it was supposed of them, and when it was a little bit more late at night, when the places were emptier, they'd catch a movie. There was no way that night wouldn’t be awesome. Jungkook cleaned his sweaty hands on his pants – even though he had just showered –, and walked off the locker room. He looked the time again and it was already 6:20 pm. Should I text him? Or will that seem too desperate? But... Maybe just a quick and casual 'hey, u ready?' wouldn’t cause any harm, right...? No, no, no way, Jungkook. You two settled the meeting place, settled the time, settled everything already. There's no reason why you need to text him. It'll only seem needy. And you're seeing him in less than an hour, anyway. Chill. Jungkook placed his phone back inside his pocket after calling the cab. He put on his sunglasses, scarf and beanie to hide his face as much as he could, and waited for it in front of the school's gate. It didn’t take much time for it to arrive, and by 6:48 pm Jungkook was already handing the nice old man the money and thanking him for his service. The cold air blowed icy wind on Jungkook’s cheeks – he hugged his own arms, seeking for more heat inside his two coats. There was just a few people near the place, but none at the park they decided to meet. The sky was mixed with various shades of grey and soon it'd be dark blue, so Jungkook sit on one of the wooden benches and waited. He waited until the clock hit 7 pm and no one else was on the street in front of him anymore. He looked around, searching for Jimin, but there was no sign of him being close. It's okay. He's always late. Jungkook smiled at his thoughts and tried to get more comfortable inside his warm clothing shelter. 7:15 pm Jungkook got up from his seat and started to walk around, looking at the end of both right and left streets, in hopes he'd see a familiar face walking till him, but there was only some unknown people walking fast, wishful to get home and away from that cold night. 7:28 pm Jungkook considered calling him. Maybe some unforeseen happened and he'd take more time to get there. But... If something unplanned happened, Jungkook calling him it'd only seem like he was rushing him, which would make Jimin even more nervous, right? And if that was the case, there was no use to make a call, they couldn’t avoid the situation, so there was nothing Jungkook could do apart from waiting. It's okay. He's coming. 7:43 pm Jungkook heard loud footsteps getting closer, snapping him out of the game on his phone, but it wasn’t Jimin. It was a guy running to a girl, so he could hug her. They were probably going on a date from there, telling by their passionate expressions. Cool. The wind was blowing harder now, responsible for the slight chills on his arms. He gulped, his throat dry and his nose freezing. He tried to warm it by hiding on his scarf. It's okay. 7:56 pm If he doesn’t show up by 8, I'm calling him. But it won’t be necessary. He will show up, right? Of course he will. Jimin would never left me waiting. If he couldn’t make it, he'd definitely text me. There’s no way he wouldn't. 8:00 pm Jungkook deep breathed in the icy air into his lungs, trying to calm down. He wanted to analyze the situation with logic, but the tears were already bubbling up on the back of his throat, trying to crawl out of his mouth in quiet sobs. He wasn’t sitting anymore for a long time now – walking round through the park, lifting his head up so fast at any mention of sound, hopeful Jimin's face would magically appear in front of him. But it didn't. It didn’t show up by 8 pm and it didn’t show up for the next twenty four more minutes Jungkook waited. It was when he decided to call him – only to hear the robotic voice on the end of the line, asking him to leave a message after the beep. He hung up crying, refusing to believe Jimin really made that to him. His insecurity now couldn’t stop building up possible scenarios that would explain the reason Jimin wasn’t there. Myeong was in every single one of them. Jungkook repressed a sob as he dialed the same cab number again, and repressed another one when he entered in the yellow car. The before talkative man, didn’t try to initiate any kind of conversation, didn’t try to raise any kind of questions, as he watched the very same cheerful and bright boy from earlier, now silently cry leaning on the cold glass window of his car.

•••

Myeong's apartment was annoyingly far away. Jimin didn’t find any free cab on the street in the midst of his despair, so he was forced to use a bicycle. A fucking bicycle to ride 5 km in that kind of situation and in that kind of weather. He hardened his grip on the handlebar, white knuckles shining under the city lights. His legs were about to fail when he closed his eyes for a second and flashed Jungkook waiting for him, alone in the cold street. It didn’t take a heartbeat for Jimin to fall with all his force on the harsh ground, hands scratching in an attempt to soften the impact. He swallowed a cry, looking around and letting relief soothe his body when Myeong's building took his sight. With bloody hands supporting the weight of his body, Jimin got up – mind sinking into terrible thoughts as the reality crawled closer; its freezing breath tickling his nape, warning its arrival.

Myeongie – 6:44 pm jmin hlpe help me he's here im locked only u hav my keys he went out pls hurry call the poliec hes goin t kll em me

Those were the messages Myeong sent him after he didn’t pick up the calls. Those were the words hovering Jimin's mind as his shaken legs struggled to run up the stairs with not enough oxygen feeding his blood. The 5th floor appeared before him with blinding lights and deafening silence. He stopped on the edge, breathless, his vision blurred. Jimin was hearing his heart pouding on his ears as his legs moved under him – but when he finally reached Myeong's door and opened it, the quick beats were instantly replaced for a loud, acute tinnitus. His best friend was recoiled against the couch, curled up, hands around his knees in an attempt to build a shelter with his own body. Jimin shoved the pain from his own chest away. Myeong never looked so small. Although, when he lifted his face up, eyes petrified in fear, Jimin forgot how to breath. If the skin of his arms had turned purple with the amount of hematomas over it, his face was the true frightful thing. Left eye black and bloated, almost just as big as Jimin's fist, unable to open. Dry, red blood painting his skin, running out of recent opened cuts and... his nose... his nose seemed... broken. Jimin's throat closed as he tried to form any kind of word, but Myeong was the first to move. With tears and relief dimming his eyes, he placed a hand on the ground forcing it down to get up, but he didn’t bear his own weight and clashed with bare face on the ceramic floor. Reality switched on in Jimin then and he rushed towards him, shaking fingers under his body to pull him up. “W-what happ...” he gulped at the upclose sight of the boy's state and tried not to cry, “W-what happened?” The silence welcomed his voice and it sort of sounded as the weakest of the whispers, until he heard Myeong's. A tear slowly ran down his cheek as he forced his throat to scratch something, “Take.... take me...away...” Jimin allowed his eyes to fall on the swollen skin of best friend's arms – the boy who burdened himself to act older, even though he still was a baby at heart; the boy who ran away from home, too scared to face the cruel world waiting for him –, and once again swallowed the despair bubbling up on his stomach, the tears warring inside his throat to break through him – to break him. “Who d-did t-this?” Myeong cupped his face with trembling fingers and stared into him, broken sobs caught up on his throat. “J-jimin..... please... he's... he's coming b-back....” In the empty room, Jimin nodded, silent dread and understanding that that wasn’t the best time to talk snapping him out of his need for explanations and drawing him into his wish to protect. “G-give me your phone first.” Myeong weakly pointed to the ground where his phone was, glass shards around the broken screen. Jimin reached it and dialed the police’s number. When a woman picked up, he made it the faster and the most accurate he could – spilling the words in a flood –, but as she asked him to calm down and wait for the cops to arrive, the air was suddenly impregnated with a heaviness of stinky alcohol and the sound of Myeong's weak keen in the corner. He hung up knowing they were fucked up. But, crossing the door behind him was Myeong's dad – big, fat and visibly altered. Jimin's mind froze for a heartbeat while reality sinked in his gut. His shocked expression wandered through both men's face – one desperately shying away from the door, dreadful horror plastered on his features as the other seemed to take a moment to understand what was happening. When he finally did, a loud and rough laugh cut through the room. “Hoh... Well, well, If it's not our precious Jiminie over here...” the man had a soju bottle on his hand and a mocking tone on his voice. He had always been gross – since when Jimin was still a kid –, but that night he seemed especially violent, “Did this trash call you to help him out? Huh? Did he?!” he blustered out, “I should’ve broken that phone into tinier pieces...” he ripped off the bottle cap and drinked half of the content in three big gulps, “Hah...” his wet lips were wiped by his sleeve, “But you see, Jiminie... There's no way to help him now... He's a lost case...” Jimin looked back at Myeong – shaking and crying — and felt pure anger climbing up his chest. He dugged his nails on his palms and tried to breath through his nose. “D... Did you... Did you do this?” his voice was low, lower than it has ever been, but his mind was screaming. “Huh? Yeah...” the calm on the man's tone made Jimin clench his jaw, “Why? Don’t you think he deserved? Or... Won’t you tell me...” he filled his voice with pure contempt and disgust, “Won’t you tell me you're a fucking beast too?” Jimin heard Myeong shuffling at the corner of the room. “Jimin... go away... please, go away...” the whisper reached his ears along with the saddest sob. “Hah! So you are?! A fucking faggy like this piece of shit? God, your father would be so disappointed... All this sucess with the shitty group of yours going to dust because you couldn’t... Tzz...” he soaked his lips in more alcohol before continuing, Jimin's heavy breaths responsible for filling the silence, “You all deserve fucking death... You obscene dirty creatures...” he couldn’t even stand straight in place, his body losing balance from time to time, “That one is worse...” he pointed at Myeong, “He can’t even decide... His horny little dick wants it all... Did he fuck your ass already? Hah! Bisexual, he says... Bullshit...” Jimin's chest rose up and down as he glanced at Myeong again, fucking wrecked on the dark corner of the room, hiding as if he was some kind of demonic animal, “Bullshit!” the bottle crashing on the floor, breaking into pieces, wasn’t enough to startle Jimin and neither was the sudden loudness of the man's voice. He was drowning in anger and he didn’t even want to go back up for air. “You...” his voice was barely a whisper, “You... fucking did this... to your own son...” his hands were closed so tight into fists he couldn’t stop them from shaking. “This demon is not my son...” and with a crash, everything happened at the same time – the atmosphere changed, Myeong's dad expression darkened and Myeong himself shrinked even harder against that wall, as if that was possible, “I'm going to fucking kill him.” It was when he moved, fat feet dragging on the floor in quick footsteps towards the shivering boy behind Jimin. He was faster, though, grabbing the man by the neck in a blink of fearless desire to draw blood, stopping him from moving any further. “Don’t you dare to touch him.” He got rid of Jimin's grip in a second. He was bigger and visibly stronger, but Jimin honestly couldn’t give a single fuck. “Who do you think you are, you brat?! Try and stop me!” It was also in a second of confusion and recklessness that Jimin brought him down, hand tight around his wrist, the man's drunk body hitting the floor with a loud clatter. He didn’t know from where he was taking the force and the courage to do so, but when the man tried to get up Jimin punched his nose, all the pent up rage spilling out from his fist. He punched him so hard the pain ricocheted back to his fingers, but he ignored and took the chance of his momentary torpor to punch him a second time with his other hand. “You're fucking sick...” Jimin mumbled, spit along with tears he didn’t know from where it came, hands closed around the old man's shirt, “He's your fucking son... You held him, you raised him...” he tasted salty liquid on his mouth, but couldn’t tell if it was the tears from his eyes or the blood on his lips, “God...” Jimin managed to get up, shaking and panting, but unlike all expectations, Myeong's dad remained on the ground. Eyes blankily staring at the ceiling above them, blood slowly dripping out of his nose, chest raising up and down within each second. Jimin walked away from him, reached Myeong's body and hugged him, reassuringly and protectively, he hugged him so he'd know he was not alone. They silently cried together, painful reality weighthing down their lungs. The world really wasn’t made for people like them. Myeong's dad was still on the ground when the police came and handcuffed him. He was taken away quietly, with no resistence, almost as if he knew he deserved it – but Jimin didn’t allow himself to feel empathy. He wished him to bitterly rot in jail for the rest of his life.

Jimin hated hospitals. He always did. He hated them a little bit more since he fainted for lack of food and was forced into one, being taken care of and lectured about the importance of healthy diets for three hours. He hated the monotonous architecture, the abundance of white, the unbearable silence, the sadness it always holded – Jimin hated everything. But that night, it wasn’t hate he was feeling. It was a pent up growing agony coming from multiples poles inside of him. His throat was tight due to the impotence he had been holding on his hands, watching things he didn’t want to happening, with no power to change it. His mind was filled with images of Jungkook alone, Jungkook waiting for him, Jungkook with his heart broken, Jungkook Jungkook Jungkook. He tried borrowing a cellphone, but Myeong's iphone had been left on his apartment when they left and, well... Myeong was the very single person Jimin knew in that entire situation, so, yeah. He was also nowhere near, locked in some room with a stranger responsible for taking care of his current state. He sighed for the n th time in fifteen minutes and got up. He walked around, tired of sitting, drank some water from the drinking fountain in the corner of the room, stared at the boring paintings on the wall for some seconds, tried reading a magazine, drank more water and finally returned to his seat, frustrated. Would Jungkook still be waiting for him? “Ahn... Sir?” Jimin heard the receptionist's voice calling. She was looking at him, but he pointed at his own chest just to be sure. When she nooded, he walked till her. He was using a beanie, a scarf and sunglasses inside a hospital – precautions he and Myeong agreed necessary –, so it was understandable if she was considering him suspicious. “Sorry to ask, but do you need something?” There was a 'no, thank you' hanging on the tip of his tongue; when it hit him. He actually needed something. Jimin deepened his voice before talking – just in case. “I do. Is there any way I could make a phone call here?” The lady smiled and he sighed in relief. “Of course, what's the number?” But happiness really did last little, because soon Jimin realized he didn’t fucking know Jungkook's number off the top of his head. Fuck modern smartphones and their instant calls, what am I supposed to do now? The woman was still looking at him swallowing his embarrassement in silence, so he just thankfully bowed to her, saying it was no longer necessary. He returned to his seat even more restless than before, and had to watch the clock on the wall move its pointers for twenty more minutes until the doctor responsible for Myeong appeared. “Who is the companion of Mr. Kim Myeong?” Jimin raised a hand. “Please come with me.” She made her way back the hall and Jimin hurriedly followed her. “Nice to meet you, Mr...?” “Park.” He answered shortly. “Mr Park, I'm Dr. Won Eunha.” “Nice to meet you too, doctor.” Jimin bowed, but couldn’t wait to ask, “How is he? Everything's okay, right?” he heard the worry he was trying to avoid overflowing from his voice. “He's lucid, but the medical report can be only given to family members, I'm sorry. He'll tell you about it if he feels comfortable.” “Am I going to see him now?!” “Yes.” she smiled reassuringly, “He asked to.” “Oh.” he nooded with a sigh, “Okay. Good.” They stopped by a white door – like everything around there – and the doctor opened it for him. “Please, contain any big emotions, he needs to rest.” She gave enough space for him to enter and then closed the door. Myeong was staring at him, body full of black bruises contrasting with the clear blankets around him. Jimin felt the urge to cry again, but he held it in. The blood had been carefully cleaned, but it wasn’t like it made the sight any better. “Hey.” Myeong smiled to him, and somehow he knew, “Don’t cry...” “I'm not...” Jimin sniffled and sat on the chair next to the bed, “You look terrible.” “Thanks.” the boy smiled, “That's exactly what you should tell a person in any situation.” They both laughed. “Shut up... How bad is it?” “Two broken ribs, but apart from this everything's okay.” “You talk like it's no big deal.” Jimin took his hand to the back of his neck, rubbing it as if it'd realease some of the tension on his body, “You could have died.” “It's okay now.” Jimin looked up, “I should have never opened the door for him, but... Well, he's my dad.” “Fuck that. What kind of–“ “Jimin, really, it's okay.” Myeong cut him off, “I don’t wanna talk about it.” he recovered the doctor's words and nooded. “Sorry.” “My mom is coming.” “What?!” “Yeah. She was never really part of this, it was all his doing. She's actually more of a victim than I am, probably. She must be relieved he's in jail.” “I see... Well, good then. But does this means you're going back home?” “Probably.” they were on easy talk, but Myeong suddenly exclaimed, “Oh my god! What time is it?!” “Almost nine. Maybe already is.” “Jimin! Your date! What are you even still doing here?!” “I... I-it's not a date and... I had to make sure you were alright...” “My ass! Get the fuck out of this room right now! I don’t wanna see your face anymore, the only person supposed to be seeing you this much today was Jungkook!” “But–“ “Out, out! I'll call the security...”. he fakingly threatened. Jimin didn’t try to hide his smile. “Man, I love you.” He kissed his forehead before running out the door, heart thundering on his chest, eager to reach Jungkook's.

“Where the hell were you, goddammit?!” was the first thing Jimin's ears were welcomed with the instant he opened the door from the dorm. “I'm calling you like crazy, where's your phone?!” Jin demanded and Jimin recoiled on his spot. “I'm sorry, hyung, I–“ he gulped, looking around. Jungkook wasn’t there. “It's a really long story.” “Do you have any idea how worried we were?!” Hoseok exclaimed. Jimin didn’t look at him – he hated seeing that worried expression on his face. He bowed to all of them. “I'm really, really sorry, hyungs. My phone unloaded, and it was an emergency.” He straightened his back, wondering how much he was allowed to say about Myeong's personal life, “Myeong's dad beat him up. For real. And bad. He needed help.” Wide eyes instantly stared back at him, and Jimin sensed the wave of questions coming, so before anyone could say a word, he broke the moment, “Can we talk about this later? Please?” no one seemed to know what to answer, so he turned to Taehyung, “Where's Jungkook?” “Bedroom. Be gentle, he is a wreck.” Hearing that statement hurt a wholesome lot more than any scenario Jimin could have ever created on his mind. He was finally put to face reality – as he wished the entire night –, but simply thinking about Jungkook's sad and accusingly eyes on him were enough to get him running all the way back. He was such a fucking coward – had always been – but he wanted things to be fine so, so bad. Jungkook was just some meters away behind a door– so why couldn’t he move from his place? Why were his legs betraying him now? Maybe because deep down he knew it wasn’t only today's incident he was going to confront. Maybe he knew there were some unspoken words buried in the back of his mind, wanting so bad to be heard, but at the same time wishing so hard to be erased. His mother taught him love was easy – that should always be or, at least, that it should be easier than harder. With more beautiful moments than painful ones. Jimin every so often wondered if she lied to him or if she was just naive. How could love be possibly easy for him when he liked boys? Of course she didn’t know that, so all her advices about it seemed a little bit more than empty – a hollow echo inside of him –, but still. He wanted to believe her. He wanted things to be the way she told him. He wanted to love Jungkook and know Jungkook loved him back, their pace easy and peaceful. But he couldn’t be so selfish. Not when all he caused Jungkook in the past few days was pain. He pushed Jungkook away when he kissed him out of curiosity and Jungkook believed he was being replaced for someone else. Jimin made him feel sad and insecure about himself – he didn’t have any right to desire any kind of reciprocity from him. And even if it was reciprocal. Jimin still didn’t have the right to demand anything back from Jungkook – he knew better than anyone how hard it was to understand they were not some weird genetic mutation just because they didn’t follow the sick flow society wished them to. He knew better than anyone how hard self acceptance could be – he himself still had a long way to walk in that path. Jimin also had Myeong to guide him, to make him see there was nothing wrong with being who he was. Jungkook had no one. If he was facing that battle, he was fighting it all alone. “Jimin?” Taehyung snapped him out of his trance. Everyone was looking at him, waiting for a movement that didn’t come. “Mhm...” It was when he heard the sound of a door closing followed by approaching footsteps. Jungkook appeared before his heart could beat again and when their eyes locked, everyone around them seemed to disappear. The younger boy had swollen eyes and a red nose adorning his face, which added some kind of melancholy and vulnerability to his features. Jimin's throat tighted, the tears menacing to cross the boderline he avoided all night. The instant seemed to last years, but it just needed for Jimin's eyelashes to bat for a heartbeat to have Jungkook running all the way back to his room. Jimin followed him, desperate to grab him and stop him from breaking – like it seemed it would happen at any given moment. He reached him in front of the wooden door, arms closing around his waist, face buried on his back. They were both breathing heavily even though they only ran some meters. Jungkook was frozen, body stiff under Jimin's touch, hand on the knob, seeming unable to move. “Let go.” He bronkenly whispered, not enough strength to pull away. “Please, listen to me.” Jimin whispered back on the nape of his neck. He felt Jungkook stiffening even more, hand closed so tight around the knob his white knuckles could be seen contrasting with his skin color. “Don’t want to.” “Please.” Jimin hugged him tighter, hands placed on each side of his waist, “Jungkookie, please.” There was a knot on his throat, fearing Jungkook would really reject him, “Please...” he tried one last time, shuddering breath against Jungkook's ears. The younger boy slowly – painfully slowly – moved his hand, opening the door in front of them and walked in. Jimin released him to softly close the door behind them, doing the minimum noise possible, as if any abrupt disturbance could turn everything to dust. Jimin turned to face Jungkook – his heart violently pumping his blood to the rest of his body –, but the boy wasn’t looking at him. He was sitting on his bed, facing the wall. Jimin sighed and sat on the other side of the bed, fighting the urge to get closer and touch him. “Please, look at m–“ he tried, his voice sadder than he imagined, but Jungkook cut him off. “You hurt me, hyung.” He hiccuped. Oh god. “You abandoned me there, alone... Again.” He was crying. He was really crying. Jimin felt the desperation climbing up his chest, not knowing what to do. “I waited for you... I waited so long, hyung, but you didn’t show up and for what?” Jungkook's teary eyes stared at him – into him – and Jimin's heart broke. “I...” his bated breath was stopping him from speaking, “No, I... Jungkookie, I'm sorry, it wasn’t–” he was still staring at Jimin, waiting for an explanation, but Jimin simply couldn't find a way to put things into words. “It wasn’t like this, my... Listen, I was ready to go to you, I swear, I was. But–“ Jungkook sniffled and Jimin couldn’t stop his body from scooting closer, eager to dry the younger's tears, “My phone unloaded, I couldn’t call you and... Myeong–“ Before he could finish Jungkook turned his face the other way so fast it surprised him. “I don’t wanna hear.” He muttered and Jimin was helpless. God, why was it so difficult to explain one simple thing? “Jungkook... Please...” Jimin grabbed his wrist with the tenderest touch, “It wasn’t for nothing, he... He needed help.” he paused before continuing, “His dad beat him up.” Jungkook's wide eyes met his again in a blink of an eye, concern from the sudden information spilling from his voice. “Why?” And there it was. The unspoken truth he didn’t know if Jungkook was prepared to face. “He... He didn’t come to Seoul for any course. He was running away from home.” He was dodging away from the answer, he knew, but... “Why?” Jungkook repeated and Jimin looked into his eyes. Really looked into them, trying to find something he himself didn’t know what was it. Maybe a sign he should say nothing more and shut his mouth up. But he didn’t find it. Whatever it was, he didn’t find it. “Myeong is... He is bisexual, Jungkook.” The silence that followed afterwards was different from any kind of silence they had ever faced before. Jungkook's eyes fell to Jimin's hands holding his wrist and after some seconds he seemed to choke. “H-his d-dad... Beat him up for t-that?” there was a sort of tremor on his voce Jimin knew very well. He gritted his teeth, reluctant to confirm the world was really worst than they had ever considered. “Yes.” That shuddering whisper was all it needed for Jungkook to break into tears a second later. He cried harder than before, harder than Jimin had ever heard him crying and by some point along the way, Jimin was crying too, mutual understanding – mutual fear – stabbing them in the chest. Jungkook sobbed against his pillow and it hurt a lot more than any knife cutting through his skin could have. Jimin brought him to his lap, and even though there were tears on his eyes too, he tried to give him some kind of comfort, fingers on his hair, caressing all the way up and down, caressing the back of his ear and bringing the touch to his forehead. Running his fingers down Jungkook's nose and back up again. He repeated those movements until Jungkook stopped shaking, until there were only fickle sobs escaping from his mouth, until his breath was even again. Jimin wanted him to know he was safe – other people didn’t matter, on his arms, Jungkook was safe. He lowered his hand to Jungkook’s neck, his thumb drawing soothing circles on its side. “Do you...” Jimin started, voice low on the silent room, “Do you remember when we layed here? This very same bed, and cuddled while watching begin again?” Jungkook slightly nooded, “I want to feel that kind of internal peace again. That night relaxed me in a way thousands of therapy sessions couldn’t.” Jimin felt Jungkook smiling. He didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. Jimin knew. The memory of that night remained on his mind, until a familiar melody played inside his head, putting a smile on his face and a hum on the back of his throat. Jungkook turned his face to completely look at him, and in that moment, something twitched on Jimin's chest, so he sang. “Please... Don’t see... Just a boy caught up in dreams and fantasies...” Jungkook smiled, eyes adorably shining back at Jimin, “Please... See me...” Jimin hummed again and then added, “I don’t know this part.” They laughed, Jungkook's grin making Jimin almost melt under him. “Take my hand, I don't know this part either...” Jimin sang this, knowing it would make Jungkook laugh. And god, how he loved that laugh. He hummed some more, until the part he knew came again, “I'll be there, cupid's demanding back its arrow... So let's get drunk... On our tears...” Jungkook's smile slowly faded away, giving place to his attentive eyes, his lips slightly parted in a sort of amazed state, “And god... Tell us the reason...Why iIt's getting more and more embarrassing... Not knowing the lyrics...” Jungkook's lips parted on a cute grin again, but his eyes couldn’t look away from the boy above him – and neither could Jimin. “Searching for meaning... But aren’t we all... Lost stars... Trying to light up the dark?” For some reason, Jimin's breaths started to fail, the way Jungkook was looking at him making his heart race more than it probably should, “Who... Are we? Just a speck of dust within the galaxy... Woe... Is me...” Jimin hummed a long part of the song after, but it was enough. Their eyes didn’t break contact for a single second. When Jimin opened his mouth to sing again, his voice was a tiny whisper hanging on the air between them, “Turn that page... Maybe we'll find a brand new ending... Where we're dancing... In our tear–“ Jungkook's mouth swallowed the last words before Jimin could realize what was happening. The younger propped himself up with a hand while the other cupped Jimin's jawline, in an insecure yet gentle touch, and kissed him. He kept their lips pressed waiting for a reaction – any reaction –, but Jimin was too shocked to do anything. Jungkook pulled apart just enough to breath into Jimin's mouth, their lips brushing and tingling while he murmured, sliding his fingers to the back of his neck, into his hair, “I love your voice.” Jimin chased Jungkook's lips with a need he didn’t know he possessed. He clung onto his shoulders, and even though they were both sitting, it felt like Jungkook had him entirely on his arms. Jungkook inclined his head, fitting Jimin's whole bottom lip in his mouth and then found the courage to lick at it. Jimin melted under the touch – under him –, opening his mouth just enough for their tongues to meet, yearning to feel more – to touch more. They kissed like there was no tomorrow, Jungkook's hands on Jimin's neck and waist, pulling him closer within each second, Jimin's own hands fisting Jungkook's hair, tugging at it just enough to have Jungkook moaning into him. He swallowed all the sounds, his stomach twitching with arousal and need – a desperate need for Jungkook's lips, Jungkook's touchs. Jimin bit on his lip to catch his breath, the younger boy's chest also rosing up and down continuously. They stared at each other's eyes for a second, before Jimin's face disappeared on Jungkook’s neck. He felt Jungkook gasping, slightly leaning his head backwards, his hands gripping on Jimin’s waist tighter. He fought the urge to bite it and suck wet, purple bruises on its entire length. Instead, he placed gentle kisses all over it, his plump lips sticking on each inch of Jungkook’s soft skin just a second before going for another one. He traced a path of kisses down his neck and up his jawline, just to cup Jungkook's face on his hands and go after his delicate cheeks. Jimin tenderly kissed his little scar three times, feeling Jungkook's smile brush against his skin, their breaths now rhythmically mingling on one another. Jimin smiled too, while kissing both Jungkook's eyes, happiness overwhelming his entire being. He placed one last kiss on his lips before slowly reaching for his ear and whispering against it, as if he was telling the most secretive of the secrets, “I love you.” Jungkook instantly hugged his waist again – circling it tightly with his arms – and buried his face on the curve of Jimin's neck. He could feel a fast beat against his chest, but couldn’t tell from whose it was. Probably from both. He, too, placed a soft kiss on the skin where Jimin's shoulder and neck met, making Jimin's fingertips tingle and his cheeks blush, the feeling his mother told him about every second closer from having his heart on the verge of exploding. “I love you.” Jungkook brought Jimin's body closer – if that was even possible – and whispered against his neck one more time, needing to be sure he was heard, needing to be sure Jimin knew, “I love you.”

#armiesnet #btsmaknaenet #jikook #jikook fic #kookmin #kookmin fic #bts fic #jungkook #jimin #my fics #this took me a lot of work #im sry if its terrible #anyway

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poisonedpan · 7 years

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Thankful - 11/2014 - Section 23

What am I thankful for? I’m thankful for a lot of different things. I’m thankful that my parents are still together – even though my dad’s living in Arizona, while my mom is living in Florida. He’s just working there, until my sister graduates and then they’ll all move to Arizona. I’m thankful for my two sisters. I’m thankful for my older one for being someone that reminds me of me, someone that I look up to and admire for the way she’s found happiness in the most dark sides of the world. She’s someone that continues to fight. I’m thankful for my younger sister for being such a better person than I am. She has a huge heart, even though she sometimes calls me names and pisses me off. I know that my sister will do things for others that most people would not. I’m thankful for my best friend Drew. I’m thankful for how she’s been my rock throughout this last crazy year. She’s someone that I can depend on with anything, and she’ll forever have my back. Family is what I’m thankful for. I’m thankful for my grandparents, the ones alive and the ones that have passed. I’m thankful for the way that they raised my parents, and how they affected the way that my parents raised me. I’m thankful that even though back in their day, people like me weren’t accepted. My grandparents would never abandon me, and they will have my back over everything. I’m thankful for my Aunt Kathy and Uncle Chuck. Aunt Kathy is a woman that I’ll look up to forever. The way she handled life with such grace and class. The way that she was always optimistic, and laughed, even if things weren’t going that right. I’m thankful that she was a part of my life. I’m thankful for my Uncle Chuck. I’m thankful for the way that he fought in the war, the way that family means a lot to him. I’m thankful for the man that he was, and how he cared for my Aunts and cousins so much. I’m thankful for the way that he would drive me to all these bullshit things I got involved in. I’m thankful for the way that his driving made me think at any given moment, I was also going to die. I’m thankful for a lot this year, but most importantly I’m thankful to be here in Florida with my family. I didn’t want to do any drugs before I saw my parents on this trip. I wanted to see them as if nothing was going wrong for me this semester. I wanted them to see me as being a strong, hardworking person. I wanted them to see the strength in my scars. I missed my mom a lot. I haven’t seen her in what feels like forever. I didn’t know how much I would miss my parents until I was sitting here in Florida with them. Being away from home isn’t that bad, but being across the whole country doesn’t seem like a big deal until you see them again. My dad hadn’t gotten in yet, he gets in the day before thanksgiving. I leave the day after. I wanted to spend more time with him, but I was glad that my mom and he got to see each other. I was most excited to see my sister. My sister and I hate each other when we’re around each other. We both get on each other’s nerves. Although, I didn’t realize how much our hatred was just sibling rivalry. My sister is my rock, and I don’t really know who I would be without her. I don’t think I would have ever been happy. She’s always been someone that was there to hang out with, someone to play all these imaginary games with. Drew came over and I felt more at home than I would throughout the whole trip. Drew brings back a Chance that doesn’t overthink and overanalyze. She brings back my actual life. I didn’t think of all the negative things that were circling around me most of the time. She brought back a genuine smile. I missed her a lot. I missed spending the whole night talking shit with her, playing Mario and eating pizza or candy. I miss our random trips to Wal-Mart during the middle of the night in hopes that nobody in this shitty town would see us. I just missed seeing my best friend. My grandparents came over and it was really nice to see them. I felt like I had to be a different person when they were around, just because I wasn’t the most respectful and cookie-cutter image of a person. I cussed a lot, and I would say a bunch of different bullshit that I don’t think they would want to hear. I just didn’t really know how to talk to them. I didn’t want to feel judged, even though I don’t think they would have judged me. It’s just weird. It’s an insecurity of mine that the way that I act and talk will push people away from me. Since I have the insecurity, I end up pushing people away myself. I finally went to my room. That room. This room was filled with demons crawling over the painted white walls that were supposed to symbolize me trying to hide the darkness. My concrete floor that used to have carpet, but I ruined that for dancing and just wanted a change in my life. The bed that used to lie a girl that I would forever hold close to my heart until I laid deep underground. I don’t even think the bugs eating away what’s left of the body could even eat away the feelings that I had for her. This room was broken. This room symbolized a dark past that I didn’t think would affect me this much. I was wrong. I didn’t really sleep that night. I couldn’t stop seeing shadows of the past that still lingered in this room. I tossed and turned. I faced the ceiling. I faced the pillow. Nothing fucking made sense though. Life was so weird to me. One minute you can be sixteen years old, you could be sleeping next to this girl that meant the world to you. You can see the light shining in the window on these gray walls, and a bed that was always made for two people that would spend the day kissing and singing songs. You would look deep into the eyes of the person that you knew you couldn’t live without. A time where I’d walk to the beach and hang out with friends. I wouldn’t spend my days getting wasted and so fucked up on meth. I would laugh with a couple beers, and have a nice buzz. A time where school was important (kind of.) You blink an eye and suddenly you’re sitting in an empty room that’s been painted white. You see the floors been cut up, and an empty spot on the bed where used to lay your best friend. A person that you learned how to live without. You balance your life on liquor and meth. You feel isolated from the world and your family as you live three thousand miles away. The beach was as gray as the sky. It’s crazy how fast everything can change. Today was back to normal. It was like I hadn’t really been gone that long. Drew and I hung out for most the day. Billie and I were still getting along, but it was clear that the excitement of being reunited was already starting to fade away. I spent most of the time in the living room, we watched videos on the TV all day, and I would play with my dogs. Everything was good again. I wanted to go to the beach so bad, but for people who see it every day, nobody ever goes. I just wanted to see the water. I loved spending time at the beach, it’s like as the waves break so does all my negative thoughts. I felt normal there. I didn’t behave that well today. My parents are pretty cool with me drinking, which is nice. I just don’t get drunk. I can drink a beer or so, but beer tastes like shit so I like to have hard liquor. They usually just buy some Smirnoff ices and shit doesn’t do anything for me unless I have like five or six. Although, I did go on Grindr that night and get laid by some dude that was in town for theatre. I don’t remember his name, but he rode me in his car. My dad came in the next day. I didn’t realize how much I missed my dad until I saw him. My dad was lowkey my hero, but that’s not something I’ll tell him. I don’t know how guys talk to each other, like father and straight son. Do they even say ‘I love you’ or get all mushy with the ‘I miss you so much’ bullshit? I don’t think so. So I always kept it quiet. My dad knew that I loved him, it’s something I’ll say when I see him and when I leave. It doesn’t need to be said all the time. I even thought that was weird. We all stayed up all night and all got along. We played cards, and fought like a normal family. I was so thankful to be here. I think this year has been hard on all of us. We lost family, we were all separated, and it’s just how far life pushes you until you break. My family doesn’t break, regardless of the bullshit that life pushes us through, with each other we stand stronger than a fucking concrete wall. Thanksgiving Day was finally here. I spent most of the day not doing anything like usual. I would talk to my dad, drink some beer and I snuck food when nobody was looking. My mom, sister and grandma cooked. I loved when those three women were in the kitchen, because since my sisters older now, it’s like they all think it’s their kitchen. They don’t know how to move around each other yet. It’s funny as hell to watch. I ate a lot before we even ate dinner, and I knew I was going to eat a lot more after that. We all set the table, and said grace like always. I come from a pretty weird family when it comes to religious. I think my grandparents are religious as hell, and my mom is too for the most part. None of them are in your face religion. They don’t disown anyone for not believing in the bible, and they don’t disown anyone for their beliefs. My dad was whatever, I don’t think he gave a fuck about religion. Growing up, we had to go to church. I think it was just for my parents to show us that there is something to believe in, if we wanted too. Once we were old enough to decide if we want to go. I started only going to youth group. To be honest, I liked the songs. I liked singing it and how crazy happy everyone got. They got in the spirit. I loved that shit. I stopped going to that once middle school hit though. I’m pretty open to religion, people can believe whatever they want. I really don’t care about it. I believe in myself, and that’s going to be the only thing that saves me. I really thought about how thankful I was, especially around this time. I watched everyone bow their heads for a prayer, and I crawled inside my head. I’m mostly thankful that I survived the night I tried to kill myself. I wouldn’t be here today, being thankful with the people that matter most to me. I wouldn’t be laughing with my grandparents. I wouldn’t be drinking wine at the table. If I would have died, this thanksgiving would have been a lot different. Suicide seems like a great answer when you’re going through depression, and honestly I would have been fine with it. I was tired of hurting. The thing that I’ve realized now is though, my pain would have ended but I would have created pain that would have lasted in my families heart forever. I couldn’t do that. Amen. Whatever the fuck that means. After dinner, everyone laid on the couch. Most of them slept. My grandma and mom did dishes, which really wasn’t fair considering they cooked all day. My lazy ass didn’t get up and help though, I was way too full. I started to feel my chest feel tighter, and it felt like someone huge was sitting on top of me. It felt like my body was closing in on myself. I couldn’t move. I went into a ball but it just made it worst. This has happened before, but only once. It’s excruciating pain though. I don’t know how to manage it. My mom said that it used to happen to her, another wonderful gene that she gave me. “You have to stretch out,” she said, as she noticed being in a ball wasn’t working for me. I had to lay on my back, and I felt my body slowly start loosening up. I felt my ribcages start breathing again, and suddenly I felt relieved. “What the hell is that?” “It happened to me when I was younger, it was my gallbladder,” she said. Whatever the fuck it was, I never wanted it to happen again. Drew came over later because I had to leave early in the morning. I didn’t really want to leave. Drew and I talked for most of the night. I loved talking to her. Drew was one of the few people in the world that wouldn’t judge me, and she would help me make sense for the stupid shit that I was doing. She would never just walk away from me though. She knew that there were things about me that were disconnected, and I wasn’t sure how I was going to put the pieces back together. It wasn’t like my brain came with a manual. We drank and danced, and just laughed at every single thing under the sun. I hung out with Drew up until the moment that I had to leave. I looked at my parents. I was going to see them in literally two weeks because we were all going to Vegas for my sisters birthday, but I didn’t want to really go back. I didn’t realize how homesick I was until I had left home. I boarded the plane and said goodbye to another glimpse of sanity that I was throwing away.

#personal #poison #chance conley #writer #blog #thanksgiving #journal

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homoose · 3 years

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Love Has a Learning Curve: Part V (x OC)

Summary: Maggie meets Diana, and it goes better than she expected. Maggie meets the team, and it doesn’t go completely as planned. Spencer’s spidey senses are tingling.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x OC

Category: hurt/comfort, fluff

Warnings/Includes: alcohol/drinking, reader gets drunk on accident and is incredibly insecure and self-deprecating, I think that’s it

Word count: 5k

a/n: Thank you all for your kind words in this really sad and weird moment of my life. This couple brings me so much joy and I’m absolutely dreading the hurt that’s coming in the next part. Sorry in advance 😭 But also, you can re-read Lighthouse and First of Many before the angst!!!!!! If you haven’t read those fics, I recommend it because there are some relevant connections. ♥️

Series Masterlist

———

Maggie felt his hands sneaking around her waist, rubbing low over her tummy, and then the press of his warm body along her back. She tilted her head to make room for him to settle his chin on her shoulder, smiling as his hands completed their journey and wrapped her up tight.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” she answered, pressing their cheeks together.

“Are you almost done?”

“If you’d let me help, you’d be done by now,” he complained, hugging her a little tighter and turning his head to drag his lips across her cheek.

“Let me just finish this pan, and then I’m all yours.”

He pressed a kiss to her cheek, then another to the spot behind her ear, and one more to her shoulder. Then he propped his chin once more and rubbed his thumbs where they rested against her sides.

She laughed a little as she ran the dish brush along the edges of the pan. “Comfy?”

“Thank you for all of that.” She gestured vaguely in the direction of the fridge, packed full of leftovers. “My mom will be so honored to know you made her pot pie.”

Her eyes went a little wide, and he took her silence as an answer, continuing, “You don’t have to. It—it’s too soon.”

She brought a hand up to cup his chin between her fingers, bringing his eyes back to hers. “I would love to meet your mom.”

…

Spencer shut off the engine of the Volvo, turning in his seat to face her. She tried to settle her nerves without also spurring his own anxiety, which had been quite obviously flaring all morning.

He closed his eyes and breathed a relieved sigh. “Have I told you how much I love you yet today?”

“Mm, I don’t think you have,” she smiled.

He brought her hands up to his mouth, kissing the back of each. “I love you so much. The most.”

“I beg to differ.” She leaned over the console and kissed his nose. “I definitely love you the most.”

“Agree to disagree.” He shifted to meet her lips in a quick kiss. “I’ll text you in a few minutes?”

She gave him another kiss. “Sounds like a plan.”

Maggie knew that meeting Diana was a good thing. That Spencer wanted her to meet the most important woman in his life was a testament to their relationship. But the closer she got to it, the more she felt completely and totally out of place. What did she have to offer this woman’s remarkable son other than a mountain of student loan debt, an endless supply of expo markers, and an ever growing collection of toilet paper rolls?

Her phone buzzed with the incoming text message, and she bit back a sigh.

Spencer: It’s an incredible day. She’s already asking about you.

Maggie turned her face up to the clear blue sky, feeling the sun on her face and taking a deep breath. Then, she hoisted herself out of the vehicle, locking it and turning to walk toward the building. DC was hot and sticky this time of year, and she was grateful for the blast of air conditioning as she entered the facility.

The woman at the front desk— Suzanna, by her name tag— smiled kindly at her. “How can I help you?”

“I’m, um— I’m here to visit with Diana Reid.” Maggie began signing into the visitor’s log, smiling a little at Spencer’s hasty signature right above. “Her son is here, too— Spencer.”

“Ah, yes— you must be Maggie. Diana’s been so excited to meet you.” Suzanna chuckled lightly at her expression, and Maggie wondered just how much everyone already knew about her. “They’re just through there— in the sunroom.”

Maggie mumbled her thanks and turned in the direction of the sunroom, smoothing a nonexistent wrinkle from the skirt of her dress. She’d spent far too long getting ready this morning, including steaming the dress— a simple number with a black bodice and a skirt covered in books. It was her own personal nod to the incredible legacy that Diana had left— not only as a professor of classic literature, but also as the mother of the most incredible reader— and man— she’d ever met.

She stood immediately, an absolutely radiant smile stretching across her face at the sight of them. Maggie watched as she clasped her hands in front of her and felt Spencer squeeze her hand at the same time.

“Maggie,” Diana smiled. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Maggie returned her smile. “It is such an honor to finally meet you, Mrs. Reid.”

She scoffed and waved her hand. “Just Diana, please.” Maggie saw the moment she noticed the dress, her eyes crinkling a bit at the corners. “I can already tell you’re perfect for my son: the lover of books.” She motioned to the seating area. “Come, sit.”

The three of them sat, Spencer in the armchair just across from them as she and Diana sat on the sofa. Maggie folded her hands in her lap and tried to straighten her posture. Diana leaned back against the couch with a smile.

“I really have heard a lot about you,” she repeated, sliding her eyes over to a blushing Spencer. “Spencer tells me you teach kindergarten.” Maggie nodded, and Diana shook her head. “I deeply admire the patience and energy you must have for that age group.”

Maggie laughed a little. “They can certainly be a handful. I hear you were a teacher as well.” Her eyes went a little wide at her mistake. “A professor, I mean.”

“Oh, yes, yes— 15th century literature.” Diana tilted her head, considering Maggie with a knowing gaze. “But teaching is teaching, no matter the age. And where would any of us be without our kindergarten teachers? The ones who teach us the very foundations of learning. Who not only teach us to read and write, but also to inquire and investigate and discover.”

Maggie felt unexpected tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, and she had to take a moment to breathe before speaking. “Thank you for saying that. Sometimes people assume that kindergarten is all play doh and finger paint.”

“What’s that saying about making assumptions?” Diana pondered.

“Issac Asimov said, ‘Assumptions are our windows on the world,’” Spencer offered.

“Mm, thank you for that, honey, but the one I’m thinking of is from an episode of The Odd Couple, I believe,” Diana corrected, winking at Maggie. “When you assume, you make an ass of you and me.”

“Ah.” Spencer held back a laugh, and Maggie’s heart felt just a little bit lighter.

Spencer nodded in confirmation. Diana looked back to Maggie with a slightly mischievous grin. “His report cards always came back with the note that he was ‘helping’ the other students just a little too much— always the professor, even at five years old.”

Spencer let out an indignant squeak, and Maggie laughed. “My parents got a very similar note.” She gave Spencer a smile. “We just couldn’t help it, apparently.”

“I’m sure it didn’t help that he’d been reading for three years before he was even enrolled,” Diana mused. “Did he tell you that he originally considered studying the classics?” Maggie shook her head. “Well. When you’ve already read and discussed all the course material, it seems a waste of money, doesn’t it?”

“Indeed, I suppose it does,” Maggie agreed.

“Oh,” Diana tapped Maggie’s arm affectionately before gesturing back to Spencer, “and then there was the time that he became so fixated on the idea of becoming a magician that he somehow managed to trap a rabbit in our backyard.”

“Mom,” Spencer choked out.

“Oh my. No, no— please go on,” Maggie begged, waving her hand dismissively in Spencer’s direction and leaning closer to Diana. “I need all the embarrassing stories.”

Diana let out a lilting laugh. “The poor thing spent the better part of a weekend in a storage bin while Spencer tried to figure out the top hat trick.”

Maggie turned to him with a bewildered grin. “The storage bin was well ventilated!” he defended. “And she had plenty of food and water.”

“Did you figure out the trick?” Maggie asked.

“No,” he admitted sheepishly. “Mom found out about the rabbit before I could. And you need more than just the hat for the trick anyway.”

“We fed her one last carrot and then sent her back out to be with the rest of her bunny family, who must have been missing her dearly.” Diana winked at Maggie. “At least that’s what I had to tell six year old Spencer.”

“Rabbits are incredibly social and live in large colonies, so that actually was most likely the case,” Spencer supplied.

Diana smiled fondly at her son, and Maggie could practically feel the love radiating off of her. “Either way, I had one very sad little boy for the next week or so.” She turned back to Maggie. “We actually took a break from some of the more... advanced reading material so that I could read him The Tale of Peter Rabbit.”

“A classic in its own right,” Maggie said.

Diana nodded. “I’ve always said that children’s literature encompasses some of the most profound and imaginative storytelling. We can learn a lot from Peter and Ferdinand.”

“I love Ferdinand!” Maggie gasped. “Gosh, that’s one of my all time favorite books. My mom read it to me when I was little, and I read it to my kids every year.”

Diana threw her hands up. “And that right there tells me everything I need to know about your teaching. Well— that and everything Spencer’s already gushed about, of course.”

The three of them spent the better part of the afternoon laughing and trading embarrassing childhood stories. Diana was even more lovely than she could have imagined, and Maggie was grateful to be so quickly accepted into the small but incredibly loving family unit.

Every so often, she would catch Spencer’s eyes on her— soft and content and practically sparkling— and her heart would leap into her throat. He was uncharacteristically quiet, letting Diana lead most of their side of the conversation, only chiming in here and there to offer context or defend himself in a particularly mortifying tale. Diana unwittingly (or perhaps purposefully) revealed just how much Spencer had spoken about her; she already knew about Maggie’s home, her family, and most of her interests.

Spencer may have been quiet, but he was also blushing profusely— caught in the act of being absolutely enamored with her. Maggie found that she didn’t know how to feel about that. She should be happy. She should be thrilled. And in some ways, she was. Being with Spencer had made her the happiest she’d been in a very long time— maybe ever.

It was the happiness that scared her.

She deserved happiness. That’s what Anita would tell her. But the way she felt with Spencer— comfortable, natural, easy— was the rising action. She was still anticipating the climax, the mountaintop, the apex of joy. She hated herself for it, but she couldn’t help it. She’d learned that every mountain had a valley, and the falling action always dragged her against every jagged stone on the way down. She never failed to plummet down from the heights into the depths of where she’d learned to live, quiet and lonely and a little bit bruised.

This knowledge didn't stop her from soaking up every second of the highs.

“I’m starting to get a little tired,” Diana admitted. She reached across the couch and patted Maggie’s hand, squeezing gently, and then she looked to Spencer. “I start to— forget when I’m tired.”

The smile that had become almost permanent that afternoon faltered slightly, but he nodded and checked his watch. “Four hours is pretty good.”

She hummed. “They’ve been longer as of late.”

Maggie watched as his nose twitched. “Does Dr. Kincaid think that’s good or bad?”

Diana gave him a sympathetic smile. “She’s not sure.”

It was quiet for a long moment, and then Maggie stood. “Let me give you a minute together.” Diana stood as well, and Maggie clasped her hands together. “I don’t think I can articulate how incredibly happy I am to have finally met you. And I— I definitely don’t have the words to properly thank you for raising such a wonderful man.”

Diana took her hands, squeezing them gently before pulling her into a hug. Maggie returned the embrace, and Diana murmured, “Thank you for loving him. Through the highs and the lows.”

Maggie blinked back tears for the second time that day, nodding into Diana’s shoulder and hugging her tightly.

With a final squeeze, Diana released her, and Maggie excused herself back out into the foyer. She signed out of the visitor log and waved to a grinning Suzanna, and then headed outside to catch her breath. She made it to the car, unlocking it and settling into the passenger seat before leaning over to turn it on and get the windows rolled down.

“She loved you, and I love you, and I’m so glad you got to meet her.”

She could hear the emotion in his voice, and she slid her arms around his back, pulling him into a hug. “Me, too.”

…

Spencer drove them to meet up with the team at O’Keefe’s, a favorite haunt of theirs on the evenings when they’d wrapped a case at a reasonable hour. They headed up the sidewalk hand in hand, with Maggie leaning a little into his side. She was feeling slightly more at ease this time around thanks to the buffer of knowing Penelope, Luke, and JJ already.

Spencer kept his hand on the small of her back as they approached the table. He greeted the group and then turned to Maggie, gesturing around the table. He introduced her to Tara, Matt, and Emily, the three of whom greeted her with warm handshakes. Penelope was practically vibrating with excitement as she scooped her up into a hug.

“Gosh dang it, you are just so cute,” Penelope squeaked. She pulled back from the hug to take stock of Maggie’s outfit. “The books, I love it. And the shoes!”

Maggie laughed, twirling her ankle to show off the pink t-strap heels. “I’m definitely going to regret them in about an hour. But they look cute anyway.”

Tara sidled up to the two of them, raising her glass in solidarity. “Here’s to cute shoes and pinched toes.” She took a sip of her scotch and then turned to Maggie. “What’s your poison?”

“Oh, you don’t have to,” Maggie insisted.

Tara waved her hand and gestured to Spencer. “You got grandpa to come out to the bar. You’re not paying for a single drink tonight.”

“I come out with you guys!” he squeaked indignantly.

A chorus of exasperated groans made their way around the group, followed by good-natured laughs. Tara raised a single eyebrow in Spencer’s direction, and then turned her attention back to Maggie. “Like I said, you won’t need your wallet tonight. What’ll it be?”

…

She did not, in fact, have to reach for her wallet at all that evening. Between the seven of them, Maggie’s cup was always full and her smile was nearly permanent. She heard endless stories about Spencer, complete with photo evidence— much to his dismay.

They were all incredibly kind, asking about her family and her work, listening with interest as she recounted growing up on a farm and her days spent teaching kindergarten. Despite their apparent interest, Maggie couldn’t help but feel a little… silly. Stories of field trips and finger painting felt incredibly juvenile in comparison to the lived experiences of this remarkable team of people.

Eventually, Maggie had to excuse herself to the bathroom, patting Spencer’s arm and carefully navigating the dim bar. In the way that it so often did, the level of her intoxication made itself abundantly clear in the harsh lighting of the restroom. She stumbled out of the stall to wash her hands, using the countertop for balance and cursing under her breath.

Not only that, but for the second time today, she couldn’t help but feel so overwhelmingly ordinary. Surrounded by the team, all extraordinary and awe-inspiring in their own right, she was… plain, unaccomplished, boring. Spencer had called her remarkable; she felt anything but.