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btsgotjams27 · 1 year

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keeping up appearances | pjm

summary: When you move back to New York, you must keep up appearances when you see your ex-boyfriend.

✨ title: keeping up appearances | ✨ pairing: jimin x f!reader ✨ rating: m/18+ | minors dni | ✨ word count: 7.5k ✨ genre/au: angst, light smut(?) | exes to ??, new year's eve ✨ warnings: language, alcohol consumption, reader gets tipsy, masturbation (f) but she doesn’t come, a memory of jimin (touching, kissing, marking, fingering, breast/nipple play), brief mention of fuck buddy!namjoon, did i mention angst?? ✨ playlist ✨ a/n: i've always wanted to write a fic based on NIKI's 'La La Lost You', so it's finally here. i hope you all enjoy it. thank you to @purplewhalewrites and @amethystwritesbts for being my betas. and a huge shoutout to @monimonimoon/@moni-logues for the brainstorming sesh and co-writing a part of this! also check out, 'the comeback' 👀 from them.

The blue circle around the date of December 21st began taunting you the more you stared at it. You finally made the hard decision of leaving Los Angeles after two years. Like every naïve person who moves to Hollywood, you placed all of your hopes and dreams into a job. However, that job turned out to be exactly like your previous one.

On the first day of the new job, you excitedly brought your new laptop gifted by your parents. You were ready to start brainstorming and pitching ideas for potential storylines and arcs. Then a staff writer asked why you were sitting in their seat. That's when you realized you were an intern, made to bring coffee and make copies for the writers.

"Keep working hard, and you'll move up, we promise," said one of the head writers on the show.

But empty promises weren't going to get you where you wanted. Two years later, you had only moved up to become a writing assistant and, at times, were still asked to bring coffee and grab lunch.

Haley, your housemate, quietly knocked on your door, leaning against the threshold. "Are you excited to be going back home?" She tried her best to hold it together because she had grown fond of you.

You didn't answer right away because you weren't. Having to go home as a complete and utter failure was the last thing you wanted. You were supposed to be a big shot - the girl who chased after their dreams and made them come true. You even left the man you loved to pursue your career. But you would have to chuck up the courage and face reality. Life in LA wasn't working out for you.

"I guess," you shrugged, folding your shirt before tossing it in your suitcase.

"Aren't you excited to see Jimin?" Haley asked. She was a West Coast girl who dreamed of the Big Apple and was always nosy about your previous life, especially when she saw the photo of Jimin hidden in your sock drawer.

Park Jimin. You thought about him too many times to count, wondered how he was doing, if he had moved on and found a new girlfriend. You didn't expect him to stay hung up on you, and the breakup had left you in shambles.

When you first arrived in California, you couldn't sleep and didn't have an appetite. You had no friends and had to figure everything out alone without help. Coming to LA was a fucking shit show. Sometimes you just wanted to pack your bags and go home, maybe grovel and beg for Jimin's forgiveness. But you made such a big fuss about this being a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that you couldn't pass up, only to find out you gave up being with Jimin for nothing.

"I don't think he'd want to see me. I already fucked up his life once."

Honestly, would anyone be excited to see an ex again? You guessed you'd try one-upping each other to see who was doing better.

A buzz from your phone disrupted your thought. You picked up to see it was your friend, Taehyung.

Taetae 2:41 PM

You're coming to my New Year's Party, right?

A party was the last thing on your mind. You hadn't told anyone you were moving back. The only people who knew of your move were your family and Taehyung, and you didn't want to announce your letdown.

You 2:45 PM

Do I have to?

Taetae 2:46 PM

Yes! You've never missed my parties, minus the years you were gone.

"Who's that?" Haley asked, peering from far away.

You sighed, plopping on the bed and staring at Taehyung's text. "An old friend is asking me to go to a party when I get back." You lay there trying to think of an excuse to bail, but you knew you'd never hear the end of it from him.

Taetae 2:50 PM

Guess I gotta tell everyone you're moving back.

You 2:51 PM

Goddamnit, Kim Taehyung! When I see you, I will hug you and then strangle you!

Taetae 2:52 PM

Be on time. Can't wait to see you.

You groaned, throwing your phone off to the side.

"Guess you're going to the party?" Haley inquired.

"Can I just crawl into a hole and never come out?" you asked before grabbing your pillow and screaming into it. You'd rather be doing anything than face all of your old friends, and you just knew Jimin would be there too.

When you arrived in New York, hanging out with your family kept your mind off the upcoming New Year's Eve Party. Your parents were glad to have you back home and even teased you about paying rent since you were staying in your old room, but all you did was roll your eyes at their suggestion.

Of course, your days back in New York wouldn’t be complete without Taehyung constantly bombarding you, making sure you were coming to his grand ol’ party. On Christmas Eve, you received a call from him and you picked up but all you heard on the other line were high pitched whimpers and deep groans.

“Shit–Can’t believe I’m fucking Chelsea in Chelsea.”

You gasped, mouth agape at what you were hearing. “Kim Taehyung, why the fuck are you calling me when you’re fucking?!” you yelled into your phone before hitting the end button.

Ten minutes later, you receive a text.

Taetae 10:27 PM

Sorry about earlier. Dunno how that happened. Butt dial or something…

You slightly threw up in your mouth thinking about Taehyung’s naked ass touching his phone.

You 10:30 PM

🙄 Finished that quickly? Couldn’t keep your Chelsea in Chelsea happy huh?

Taetae 10:31 PM

I’ll have you know that we were going at it for two hours already.

You 10:33 PM

🤮 Please keep those details to yourself. I don’t wanna hear about your sex life.

Taetae 10:35 PM

You still coming to my party right?

You 10:37 PM

Not after you butt dialed me while you’re having sex. You’re disgusting.

Taetae 10:38 PM

Guess I’ll just tell Jimin you moved back.

You huffed, turning to your side, furiously texting back.

You 10:40 PM

How long are you going to hold that over me?

Taetae 10:41 PM

Until you come clean 😄 See you on New Years!

Christmas had gone by, and it was filled with family and lots and lots of food. Your mother insisted on stuffing your belly to the brim. She reasoned that you probably didn't have a proper home-cooked meal when you lived in LA – which was accurate.

"Have you seen Jimin yet?" your mother asked while unhooking the ornament from the Christmas tree, hardly paying attention to the expression on your face.

You shook your head, not wanting to go into further detail.

"I'm sure he'll be glad to see you," she said sweetly. She knew how much the two of you loved each other, and even she was heartbroken when she heard about the breakup.

This conversation was reminiscent of the one with Haley before you left. No, you didn't think Jimin would be glad to see you, and you weren't keen on seeing him either. Taehyung mentioned in a text that he was seeing someone and figured you should have a heads-up to prepare if he brought her to the party. So, if you were to see Jimin at the party, you'd most likely see his girlfriend too, which made your heart sink a little because that would mean that he was doing well in love and probably in life.

Throughout your time on the West Coast, you often thought about Jimin, wondered how he was doing, and if he was achieving his dreams. You even tried searching for his username on all socials. But, you figured he blocked you because there were no traces of him on the internet save for the photos here and there that Taehyung would post. That's how you knew how much you hurt him.

"I always liked Jimin," your mother continued, but you didn't respond again. "If I thought you would marry anyone, it'd be him."

You groaned at her comment. "Mom, can you stop, please?"

Everything was about Jimin. Jimin, Jimin, Jimin. You wished you could erase the name from all traces of your life, but it was nearly impossible. Being back in New York meant you were bound to step back into some old habits and routines, revisit old friends, and hell, you even toy with the idea of rekindling things with Jimin, but you sure weren't going to be a homewrecker.

"I'm sorry. I know it's a sore subject for you, but it's been two years since you last saw him. It's possible that he's forgiven you. And who wouldn't forgive this pretty face?" Your mother put down the last ornament and cupped your cheeks, the pads of her thumb gently caressing them.

You closed your eyes and let out a sigh. "No, mom, I'm sorry. I just--I feel so stupid, you know? I gave up my whole life, gave up Jimin for a pipe dream...and it turned out to be nothing like I had hoped for."

Your eyes were now glistening, tears threatening to fall. The small, shaky intakes of breaths building in your lungs finally found their release in a long extended puff.

"I should've stayed. If I stayed, things might have worked out differently for Jimin and me and my career." Tears began streaming down your face, and the things you wanted to say became hitched in your throat.

Your mother pulled you in for a hug, quietly shushing you and caressing your hair. "We don't know what would've happened if you stayed. But I just know that if you didn't go, you'd regret not finding out." She pulled away, hands still cupping both sides of your face, gazing into your teary eyes. "And as for Jimin, he'll come around. They always do," she grinned.

You hoped she was right, but you also weren't counting on it. You hadn't even forgiven yourself for leaving him.

Before you left, you had hauled everything from Jimin's place and stuffed it into your old room. You glared at the boxes piled up in the corner because you knew what lay in them: memories. Memories of you and Jimin. Memories that you didn't have the heart to toss–not yet. There was an urge to look through the boxes but you resisted.

As you lay in bed staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling, you thought about what your mother said, 'He'll come around. They always do'. Except Jimin had clearly moved on, finding someone else to replace you. It's not like you expected him to stay single forever. Jimin's a catch; anyone would be lucky to have him by their side.

Your room was imprinted with memories of you and him - bits and pieces scattered throughout your walls, the floor, and the bed. Your mind fluttered to a distant memory of him slowly backing you up against your door.

His plush lips kissed you along your jawline, lightly marking your neck. His hand down your panties, slipping between your folds, telling you to stay quiet; otherwise, your parents would catch their precious daughter red-handed being finger fucked by her boyfriend. It was the second time he was having dinner with you and your parents, and he desperately wanted to see where you had lived out all of your teenage angst. He thought your room was pretty, but you writhing underneath while he pushed two fingers inside your cunt was the best view he could ever have.

You found yourself massaging your breast while the other slid past the waistline of your lace panties toward your sensitive bud, rubbing your clit in circles.

Jimin's fingers were pumping in and out of you, eliciting small moans and whimpers. He pulled down the top of your dress and bra, freeing your breast. He squeezed it before enclosing his mouth on your nipple, then alternated between sucking and flicking his tongue against your pebbled flesh.

Your fingers started overworking your clit, continuously rubbing quicker, your heart raced a million miles per second, your breath hitched in your throat, and your body helplessly squirmed underneath the covers.

"Fuck--" you whimpered against Jimin's mouth as he swallowed your moan, trying to keep you from outing yourself to your parents. Jimin pulled away, smiling at how fucked out you looked already. "'m gonna cum," you mumbled, words barely coherent.

Your half-lidded eyes peered at the angelic man before you, being anything but angelic - more of a devil if you should say so yourself. He grinned at how needy and desperate you were for his fingers. Normally, Jimin would be praising you, telling you how much of a good girl you were, but this time he was quiet, allowing himself to drink all of you in. Your nails dug deeper into his shoulders, head lulled back, slightly thudding against the door. The building pleasure was deep in your belly, begging to find its release as Jimin decided to add a third finger into your dripping cunt. And that's when the coiling tension finally--

A blaring siren from outside broke your line of concentration. You groaned in frustration right as you were on the cusp of coming. The moment was over because you probably shouldn't be thinking about Jimin anyway. But no one else was worthy enough to even think about. The few guys you slept with didn't come close to what you and Jimin had, and he ruined other men for you. But coming back to New York meant you would have traces of Park Jimin everywhere.

D-day had finally arrived. Your room looked like a tornado had ripped through your entire closet, because clothes were everywhere. You needed the perfect outfit for an LA gal coming back to 'visit.' You weren't sure how long you'd keep moving back to New York a secret, but you'd try for as long as possible.

As you stepped into the lobby of Taehyung's building, you checked your makeup and tugged down your sparkly sequin skirt. You figured nothing said 'glam' more than a sparkly skirt. You fixed a stray hair that was out of place before finally striding towards the elevator.

Your nerves hit you like a ton of bricks once you stood outside Taehyung's door. Your hands were so sweaty it was hard to get a good grip on the handle. You wiped your palm against your fuzzy white sweater, hoping it would help.

Music was already blaring, chattering, and laughter echoed throughout the apartment. You looked around, expecting to see some familiar faces, and were met with none other than your good friend, Kim Taehyung.

"Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in," Taehyung smirked, pulling you in for a hug.

"Hi, Taetae," you muttered reluctantly, withdrawing from his embrace. "Looks like you're doing well with your modeling career." You stepped away to observe the industrial loft decorated with quirky artwork and figurines. At least someone was doing well for themselves, you thought.

"It's so good to have you back," he enunciated a bit too loud for your liking, making you slap his arm.

"Jeez, Tae, tell the whole fucking world," you spat at him. You weren't ready for anyone to know you were back. You cleared your throat before pulling Taehyung aside, away from wandering eyes and listening ears. You already caught a few glances and smiles when you entered the apartment. "If you happen to hear that I'm just visiting and am working on a movie with a big named director, can you go along with it?"

Taehyung stared blankly at your request. "You're kidding me, right? I'm not helping you with anything." He tore away from your grip, heading in the other direction.

You followed closely, stepping in front of him. "Please, Tae, just for tonight, and then half of these people will probably never see me again," you pleaded desperately.

He rolled his eyes. "Fine--but only if you take a shot with me," he raised his eyebrow, hoping you'd take the bait.

You narrowed your eyes at him. "You're lucky 'cause I don't want to remember tonight," you said, knocking back the glass he handed you, grimacing as the liquid coated your throat. "Round two?"

After downing three tequila shots, you were ready to spill all your secrets to the next person who asked how you were doing. Drinking was never your strong suit, but it was the only thing on your itinerary tonight.

With another drink in your hand, you scanned the room, anticipating the one person you were trying to avoid. As you took a sip of your mixed drink, you looked up towards the door, and it was like the heavens opened up, and in walked your gorgeous, ethereal ex-boyfriend, Park Jimin. To your surprise, no one was attached to his hip, and a wave of relief flushed over you because God knows you were not ready to meet a girlfriend.

The butterflies in your stomach are begging to escape - indicating how anxious you were to see him. It almost felt like time had stopped just so the two of you could gaze at each other. You couldn't help but give Jimin the once-over. He looked as angelic as ever when he effortlessly waltzed over to you, beaming with the biggest smile you've seen on him. It was like no one else existed at this moment except for you and him.

When Jimin approached, the jitters within increased. He opened his arms up for a hug, your name leaving his lips, and honestly, you were surprised at how excited he seemed to see you. You were expecting the cold shoulder, the brush-off with how everything went down the two of you. There had been no contact since you'd left, so you wondered if Jimin being warm and friendly was just a ruse, and deep down inside, he actually despised your presence. What gave you the right to return to New York after all this time?

"Long time no see!" he said, wrapping his arms around you. "How have you been?"

Your eyes widened, arms tucked tightly underneath his with no way to hug him back, but again, his affection really threw you in for a loop. He couldn't see your awkward smile as he held you. When he finally let go, you were able to answer.

"Yeah, great! Good. I'm good." You loved that right off the bat; you were already lying to Jimin. You were hoping you had learned some acting skills from the actors you'd watch from time to time.

"How's LA treating you?"

Well, this was the big question of the night from everyone, wasn't it? Now was your chance to tell the truth, or tell a lie. Which one will it be?

You scanned his face, eyes seeking attention. Maybe he wanted someone else to chime in and break up the most awkward conversation the two of you ever held.

"Uh, yeah, it's great. Everything's going, uh, pretty well."

Lie it is, then. You could've told him the truth, but then Jimin might have felt victorious because life didn't go the way you wanted. He would have had the upper hand in this non-existent competition you had fabricated in your mind. You left him. And for what? Another dead-end intern job marketed as your dream job? God, you were a fucking idiot - still were sometimes. Maybe that's how you ended up living with your parents back home.

"But how are you?" you asked out of politeness. It was only courteous since he asked first. "How's New York?"

A part of you desired he would say what you didn't dare to say - the truth. Honestly, you anticipated he was doing a million times better than you. Jimin had everything going for him before you left. At least, that's what it looked like from your perspective. You hoped all his dreams could come true even if yours didn't. One of you deserved to be happy, and you'd rather it be him.

"New York is great, actually. I got accepted into the corps with ABT."

It was as you expected - Jimin was doing very well. The American Ballet Theatre? You were in shock, mouth agape for a few moments before you realized it had been too long before you said anything. Your mouth curved into a smile before you were finally able to speak. "Oh my god, Jimin, that's amazing," you said, opening up your arms this time to embrace him. This hug wasn't like the one before when he first saw you, and it was less touching - more refined and more civilized.

When you pulled away, all Jimin could do was smile. Maybe he was trying to be friendly and humble since you didn't elaborate on how 'well' you were doing in LA. You didn't want to go into detail about your life for fear of slipping through a lie.

"Anyway, I'm going to go get a drink, see if I can find Tae."

Whew. You thought you would have to be the one to come up with an excuse but thank God Jimin only just got here and needed a drink. You showed him yours and nodded as he turned away. A sigh of relief washed over you as you watched your ex-boyfriend walk away.

"Hey!" you exclaimed, making Jimin stop to turn back to look at you. "I'm really happy for you."

Jimin - One.

You - Zero.

Like you had hoped, at least one of you was doing well.

Your goal was to get hammered and avoid Jimin for the rest of the night. Maybe you could find a room to slip into or pretend to fall asleep in the corner. Anything was better than smiling until your cheeks hurt and mingling with people you didn't want to see.

"No fucking way. Is that who I think it is? My big Hollywood girl!" You turned to see an old friend, Quinn, nicknamed Quinnie by your friend group. She ran over, tightly embracing you. "How are you, babe?"

"Good...good," you tried to take a breath and gasped when she finally let go. Quinnie was a big personality, and you knew you'd need more than the half-empty drink in your hand to finish a conversation with her. You cleared your throat, beaming a fake smile at her. "How are you, Quinnie?"

"Oh, it's the same 'ole, same ' old with me! Let's talk about you," she said, dragging you down the hallway. It was quieter than the commotion in the living room and kitchen. "So come on, spill the tea! What big stars have you seen? Slept with?" she wiggled her brows, making you roll your eyes.

You hardly had time to sleep around, given the nature of the entertainment industry. Sure, you were invited to parties, but everyone always had a front or wanted something from you. It was hard to trust anyone. You may have had your fuck buddy, Namjoon, a music producer, but he was nothing more than that - someone to sleep with and release the stress of your job.

"Quinnie…you know I don't kiss and tell," you said with a sly smile, taking a sip of your almost empty cup.

"Okay fine. If there's no big-name star you slept with, what are you working on now? You can't have gone to LA for two years and not have something big lined up! Spill!" Quinn said with wide eyes, waiting for your answer.

You looked around, making sure no one could overhear because you didn't know how many lies and people you'd have to keep up with. The two of you were near the bathroom door but figured whoever was there probably couldn't hear anything due to the music. You leaned in, gesturing for her to come in closer.

"I'm so excited. Look, I'm really not supposed to actually tell anyone this, but this thing I'm working on now... It's with Lin-Manuel Miranda."

He was the one playwright and filmmaker you'd dreamt of working with, and with his new musical in the works, he was the first person that popped into your head. With how your life was going, you knew it was only a pipe dream.

"Shut up! SHUT UP!" Quinn squealed, trying to keep her cool when someone passed by. The two of you glared at the person before Quinn turned back to you. "You're fucking kidding me! Can you get me on set or meet him? Please, please, please!"

You felt like shit after letting the lie roll off your tongue. It was too easy. Why was it so easy to do that? Who had you become after moving to California? Another person who put up a front like all those trying to make it in the entertainment industry? New Yorkers were supposed to be tough and tell you like it’s supposed to be, not be shallow and fake like every orange spray-tanned person in Hollywood.

Maybe a breath of fresh air would do you some good. The crowd had begun to grow, and the room became stuffy.

The freezing night was one thing you didn't miss about New York, but Taehyung’s view significantly made up for it–well, some of it. You leaned your arms against the guard rail, gripping your cup, watching cars pass by, couples and friends racing against the clock to head to their destination. You didn’t like drinking because your thoughts somehow became clearer, the voice growing louder, almost mocking you for your decisions. Being here with old friends and seeing Jimin brought back too much heartache.

Taehyung's model friends interrupted your train of thought, and you left once they lit a cigarette to share. You didn't want to come home smelling like smoke.

The small breath of fresh air got your mind off Jimin and your lies for a split second, but as soon as you stepped back into the crowded room, your eyes found Jimin. But this time, he was talking to someone. A woman. They were laughing, and he was leaning in to whisper something to her. Your stomach began forming a knot because that had to be Jimin's girlfriend, right? You knew you wouldn't be able to avoid it.

You quickly averted your eyes from the two, not wanting to pay attention more than you already had. Suppose it was time for another drink.

Turning your wrist over and checking your watch, there was an hour left until midnight. Then you’d be free to leave and never see anyone again. Taehyung nudged you from behind as you poured yourself a glass of wine, and you needed a small break from all the hard liquor.

“Hey, sweet cheeks…How’s it going? You doing okay?” Taehyung asked, holding out a glass so you could pour him one.

You rolled your eyes at the pet name. “I’m peachy,” you said, holding the peach-flavored white wine.

“Did you see Jimin already?”

Yes, you saw him. And yes, he was doing ten times better than you were. And no, you didn’t want to hear more from Taehyung about anything related to Park Jimin. “Yep,” you replied curtly, “…and I don’t want you rubbing his success in my face.”

Taehyung snorted, spitting out his wine. “You guys are both losers,” he said, shaking his head.

Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion, and you weren’t sure if he was referring to this party in general or now. “Shut up, Tae,” you quipped, taking another sip of the disgusting wine.

“You shut up–you’re both losers because you’re both yapping away and telling lies to everyone in the room,” Taehyung glared at you, cocking his eyebrow.

Did he just say that Jimin was lying too? “What?” you uttered, setting down your glass, replaying your and Jimin’s conversation. You weren’t crazy, right? Jimin said he was in the ABT.

“He’s not with ABT. He’s lying to you,” Taehyung said, “I love you both, but please, for the love of god, get your shit together.” Maybe all the liquor was also getting to him, and his drunken words spoke sober thoughts.

You were stunned at the revelation. After all this time, Jimin’s dream didn’t happen either.

The rest of the night was rinse and repeat of the same conversations. How are you? What are you up to? What are you working on? Yada-yada-yada. Oh god, you were tempted just to grab a bottle of liquor and drown yourself in it. You didn't know how much longer you could hold out. You might have to sober up and call it a night.

After another restless exchange of lies rolling off your tongue, you needed a quiet place away from everything and everyone. You wandered down the hallway to a door already opened, peering in to see that it was empty, guessing it was Taehyung's room, given that a large photo of him was framed above a dresser. You chuckled, shaking your head as you sat down on the bed.

Briefly, you peered around the room before fiddling and staring at your cup. A sudden click of the door grabbed your attention then you scoffed when you realized you weren’t alone–the one, the only, Park Jimin, showed up. You lifted your cup to take one last sip, but you had already finished yet another drink - losing count after the first one. “Miss me that much, huh?” You probably weren’t the nicest person to be around when you drank. Maybe your attitude would be different if life had gone how you wanted it to.

“Just trying to make sure you don’t die of alcohol poisoning. Haven’t you had enough?”

You cocked your eyebrow, tilting your head, “Don’t you have a girlfriend to worry about?” you asked with spite, most likely due to the alcohol running through your veins. You may have pre-gamed before getting to the party just to loosen up your nerves.

“She’s not here,” he replied simply.

You gawked at him, eyes raking him over from head to toe before looking away to stare at anything but the man you once loved. “So, why are you here, then?”

The two of you weren’t together anymore. Jimin didn’t need to worry about you. Big girls don’t fucking cry and whine in front of their exes, and they surely don’t need to be rescued. You’d lost the privilege of Jimin giving two shits about you when you left him two years ago.

"I should be asking you that. I live here. You haven’t been back for two years."

“Well, I’ve been busy in LA. That’s why I haven’t been back.” Which was true - but mostly running errands for coffee and lunch instead of writing as you wanted. You didn’t want to think about what Jimin would have to say about you leaving him for basically nothing.

“Yeah, I’ll bet.”

Jimin raised his eyebrows and rolled his eyes. What the fuck was his problem right now?

“Do you have something you need to get off your chest? I still don’t understand why you’re in this room with me. I’m sure you’d be having more fun out there at the party than in here.”

You weren’t exactly the life of the party right now. You wanted to be left alone, to wallow in self-pity at the shitty decisions you’ve made. You returned to New York with nothing to show–no job and certainly no boyfriend.

“Yeah, I probably would. But then I’ll be the one stuck with all the guilt when you pass out and choke to death on your own sick. You never did know when to stop.”

You scoffed. “Like you fucking care anyway. Two years and this is the first time I hear from you.”

“We agreed we wouldn’t keep in contact, remember? Too hard. Besides which, I found out you were going to be here from Tae. Could’ve told me yourself.”

“How could I have told you when you blocked me from every social media platform?”

Jimin shrugged. “What did you expect me to do? ‘Like’ every photo of you living your best life without me?”

You were kind of glad Jimin blocked you from all social media because then he’d be liking complete lies about your life. “Well, I’m not dying, so can you just leave me alone? I don’t want to be around anyone.”

“It’s New Year’s Eve, y/n. You’re back here–with everyone–for the first time in two years, and you suddenly don’t want to be around any of us? Too good for us now, are you? Too good for New York?”

You looked away from Jimin, biting down on your lip. If you continued to look at the expression on his face, you were sure tears would begin to fall. The building of lies upon lies - you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep it up, given that Jimin could always tell when you were lying.

“That’s hardly the case, Jimin.”

“Then what? Why the need to be alone on the biggest party night of the year?”

“Because I’m a fucking loser! A fucking fraud! That’s why I deserve to be alone! I have nothing to celebrate this new year!” The alcohol makes you speak truthfully because what is the point anymore? All of your friends would soon wonder why you were still around, Jimin too.

“What about your big movie?”

“There is no fucking movie! And don’t pretend you don’t already know that! Taehyung told me you’re not in the ABT, so I assume he told you the truth about me, too!” you exclaimed, out of breath. You definitely weren’t expecting this turn of events.

”Yeah, maybe he did, and maybe I did lie; can you really blame me? You coming back here for the first time since you left me, throwing your supposedly fan-fucking-tastic life in my face? And then it turns out it’s all fucking lies, and I come in here to check on you, and you have the fucking gall to treat me like shit? You think I’m going to feel sorry for you? Oh, boo hoo, your little plan didn’t work out? Well neither did mine, and I had to deal with it on my own because someone had fucking left me!”

If only he could see the steam fuming from your ears. “No one’s fucking asking you to feel sorry for me! And fuck you, Jimin. You weren’t the only one who was alone! I literally had no one out there! No one! So don’t you dare say anything to me. We both made the same choice.”

“And it’s clearly worked out fucking brilliantly for both of us!”

“And you’re saying that’s my fault? That’s on me, is it?”

“Yeah! I am saying that. This is on you! You broke this!”

“So what do you want from me then, Jimin? What the fuck do you want me to do about it?”

“I want you to go back two years and not leave! I want you to fucking stay!”

“Well, you got your fucking wish. I am staying! I’m back, and I’m staying now! So you’ve got what you want! Are you happy?!” your voice shaky, the tears building up on the verge of falling.

“No!”

You could tell he was at war with himself. He took a deep breath and put his hands on his head, pulling at his hair. He sighed a shaky breath and slumped on the bed next to you.

“What exactly did Tae tell you?”

You shrugged. “He didn’t say much. He just said you weren’t with ABT and then scolded me.” Sitting here and talking to Jimin felt like nothing had changed, but in reality, the circumstances of your relationship wouldn’t go back to how it used to be.

“I am not with ABT,” he said. “Not even close.”

Jimin sighed before kicking off his shoes, then he pulled down the back of one of his socks, lifting his foot on the bed. You looked down to find an inch-long scar on the outside of his ankle. You gasped, thinking about how painful it must have been for him.

“Y’know that little extra bone I had at my heel? Don’t have that anymore. That training program that I got into, that-” he stopped. “Turns out that training program was too much. All those little twinges turned into something a whole lot bigger, and then the pain got so bad, I couldn’t even...” He flexed his foot forward, pointing his toes. “They were good about it. I got to see some really good doctors, and, I mean, technically, the problem is fixed.” He rotated his ankle around first one way and then the other as if to demonstrate. “But I was in a cast for a week, then in physio for eight weeks, and, even at that point, it was too late. Full recovery took almost six months. I was already too old to have been off my feet so long; that program was kind of my last chance. And I couldn’t finish it.”

You’re not sure what prompted you, but you reached out, your index finger softly tracing the raised mark on his ankle, stomach fluttering at the simplest touch of his skin. The thought of Jimin going through all of this alone made you feel even worse than you already did. You had left him heartbroken while chasing your dream when he was here, chasing his - only to find he wasn’t able to achieve everything he wanted.

You pulled your hand back, tucking it underneath your thigh, and cleared your throat. “I’m sorry. I wish I had known what you were going through.” All the guilt from the breakup and your leaving was beginning to seep back in. “It must have been hard on you,” you mumbled, quickly peering at him.

“It wa-” Jimin paused before clearing his throat. “Yes,” he said quietly. “It was.”

You slumped over, thinking about the last two years without him. Both of you were hurting without the other knowing to an extent. And Jimin…not being able to do what he truly loved pained you more than your stupid little dream of writing. You could do that whenever, wherever you wanted, but Jimin wouldn’t be able to go back in time and try again.

“I’m uh,” you paused to sniffle, “I’m moving back to New York for good. Gonna be with my parents for a bit while I get everything settled and figure out the next steps. LA was a complete bust. The dream job I left for was the same thing I was doing here.” You shifted back on the bed, then stretched your legs before settling them again. “There’s no big movie, no Lin-Manuel Miranda. I don’t know who I was kidding trying to lie my way out of this,” you chuckled sadly, “Pretty lame, huh? I left you and have nothing to show for it.”

There was a silence that settled between the two of you. You chuckled to yourself, thinking about how lame each of your lies was. And what did they achieve? Nothing really, and it was just a way to feel good about yourself, even if just for a split second.

Out of nowhere, his hand was on top of yours. You stared at the familiar hand, remembering how you’d always tease him about the duality of his hands. One minute they’re cute, soft, and stubby; the next, they’re confident, cunning, and unyielding. Your body felt warm, humming with excitement when he softly caressed the back of your hand. As much as you wanted your hand underneath the warmth of his, you didn’t forget that he was seeing someone. You didn’t want your hands to linger longer than they already did for fear of never wanting to let go again.

"Jimin…" you breathed, his name barely audible. He might not have heard you if he wasn't so close to you. His plush rose-tinted lips looked delectable - you were fighting every fiber of your being, not wanting to lean in and remember what they tasted like. Your skin is hot just thinking about what that mouth of his could do to you. Maybe press kisses along your jaw, your neck, and down the top of your chest. Possibly nibble on your earlobe and whisper something he’d like to do to you. He loved teasing you until you were squirming under him, and you wondered if he did that with this new person.

You didn’t know if Jimin was the only one struggling, but your heart began racing as he moved closer. You wondered if he was also fighting the same urge as you.

It’s been a long time since you had been anywhere near Jimin, let alone almost kissing him. Your eyes flicked to his before dropping to his lips, and your breathing slowed. It was as if time had stopped specifically for you and Jimin, waiting to see what the next move would be. Honestly, you’d be tearing his clothes off now if it weren’t for the fact that he was seeing someone else. You let out a breath, closing the distance, forehead gently bumping into his, your hand resting on his toned pecs.

Then the door swung open.

“Oh! Whoa! Oh, no, no. Ok. Back out! Back out!”

Tae swung in, leaning heavily on the door handle and, upon seeing the two of you in such close proximity, swung immediately back out again, slopping half the contents of his cup on the floor in the process, shooing away whichever lucky person was about to follow him in.

But it was enough. You both jumped, Jimin’s hand lifting off yours, both shifting away from each other. He laughed shakily, ran a hand through his hair.

“As much as I want to kiss you right now, I’d hate myself for it tomorrow,” you insisted before pulling away from him. Even though you had more than enough to drink tonight, this conversation with Jimin awakened you from fantasy land. The two of you were a complete mess, lying to one another about each other’s lives. You couldn’t bear the thought of whomever he was seeing finding out that he had kissed an ex-girlfriend while they weren’t around. Ugh, the idea made you feel sick–or maybe it was the alcohol.

You stood on your feet, a little wobbly like Bambi on ice, which warranted Jimin’s hands ready to catch you, but you assured him you were okay. You pulled down your skirt, which hiked up underneath your ass cheeks. You berated yourself, walking toward the door. Wondering who you thought you were, coming to this party as a big shot when in reality, you were nothing but a fake, a fraud who deserved nothing else than to be alone in this new year.

You turned around, taking one last look at Jimin, who hadn’t taken his eyes off you since he first saw you earlier tonight. Lifting your hand to wave, telling him, See you later, Jimin. Even though you knew it was another lie. You couldn’t bear to see him with someone else, let alone have their hands all over him. It would be too much for you.

“No! Don’t!”

He was on his feet, crossing the distance to you in two large steps. He placed one hand against the door and the other on your waist.

“Please don’t go.” He floundered, starting sentence after sentence with nothing to follow. “Please, just stay.”

“What about your girlfriend?”

“She’s not my girlfriend; it’s not that serious.”

You chuckled, wondering if he was lying to himself. “Yeah?” you asked, cocking your eyebrow, “What are we doing then? What is this? Are you saying you want to get back together, or is this just because we’re both pathetic and miserable and drunk?”

“We might be pathetic and miserable and drunk, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t anything between us; you were the love of my life. You can’t just say we’re nothing to each other now. I know I’m not the only one who feels it. It’s still there. And I don’t want to be your friend.”

It’s true. How could you ever go back to being just friends with Jimin?

If the two of you were to continue what you had before, you feared you’d hurt Jimin again. But what if next time, it was him who left you? You weren’t sure if you could handle another heartbreak.

Your heart leaped when you heard the crowd roar echoing down the hall and into the room, the countdown to midnight in full swing. Fireworks glowed bright hues of white and yellow, illuminating Jimin’s face. More cheers and singing repeated as everyone rang in the new year.

The big question was, how would the two of you go forward now?

As Jimin caged you in against the door, your hands settled on his shirt, fingers curling into a fist, your body fighting every cell not to give in. You leaned in, nose brushed against his, lips faintly touching.

“Call me tomorrow when we’re both sober.”

Then you slipped out of his grasp and were gone.

#jimin fanfic #jimin fic #jimin #park jimin #jimin x reader #jimin x y/n #jimin x you #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts x you #bts x y/n #bts x reader #jimin angst #exes to lovers #jimin smut #bts smut

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eleni-cherie · 1 year

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among thieves ✨ || bts • pjm

- epilogue

"what even am I to you? your rival, your lover, an obstacle or am I supposed to be your coffin?"

about two thieves who can't live with nor without each other. and a joint past that comes back to threaten them.

»»»

masterlist: here

— genre: thief au, gangster comedy, adventure, romcom, humour, angst, fluff, very flirty jimin, friends/rivals/exes to lovers (it's complicated, ok?!) f2l e2l ex2l all members play a role in this story!

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. CHARACTERS NOT NECESSARILY LIKE THE REAL PERSONS. ALSO VERY UNREALISTIC PLOT LOL - JUST PRETEND READING A MANGA/COMIC OR WATCHING A FILM, REALLY.

SUGGESTIVE THEMES. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE & BLOOD (BUT NOTHING TOO GRAPHIC, IT'S STILL A COMEDY!)

»»»

several years later

Tainan, Taiwan

Jimin took a sip from his ice coffee and flipped a page in the book he was reading.

The evening sun was bathing the building in a warm shade, a comfortably mild summer atmosphere being created. Some children ran through the streets to get to the nearest park with lots of laughter and screams. Almost bumping into two women who were chatting while carrying their groceries.

He turned another page when sensing someone taking a seat on the free chair on the other side of his table. He didn't need to look up to know who it was though. The café being not overly crowded, and he had already seen him enter from the corner of his eye.

"You finally found me."

"Who said I ever lost track of you?"

Jimin perked up with a lopsided smirk, arching a brow at him. "What took you so long then?"

Seokjin laughed out, shaking his head. "Choosing a country that isn't an interpol member to settle down.. you knew what you were doing."

Closing the book on his lap, he took another sip from his coffee.

"Oh, is that so? I just came here for the nice weather," he said innocently, a small chuckle leaving his lips as he looked at his former antagonist. It felt strange somehow, having him simply sit there casually next to him without him trying to arrest him. Who would've thought a day like this would ever come. "And how comes you pay me a visit now?"

The older man shrugged, leaning back in his seat. "Been awhile since the last time I saw you, so I thought why not spending my vacation here?'"

Jimin nodded understanding and smiled at him. "And how've you been?"

He shrugged. "Oh, you know.. after you guys became inactive, it became quite boring."

"Aw."

"No, that wasn't a compliment."

"It sounded like one though."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Seokjin sighed, "But you know, it became boring and you know, I ain't getting younger either. So after I got married, I decided to take it easier and stepped down from the leader position. I focus more on paperwork now."

Jimin's eyes widened in shock as he straightened himself. Unable to imagine some random office sitter in the leader position. "And who's the leader in the theft divison now?"

"Blake."

"Oh!" he exclaimed and relaxed into his previous position, "I can see that. She always seemed eager to prove herself to you."

"And she did."

"Kinda sad for Jungkookie though, isn't it?"

"Nah," Seokjin waved at him, shaking his head, "He never was interested in that position. He still works there with her though."

Jimin couldn't keep himself from laughing at the thought of Skylar and Jungkook together and her giving him orders while he obeyed like a good subordinate. "You know, I always felt like the two were into each other and ever since I tried setting them up.."

A teasing grin spread on Seokjin's features. "Since when are you so invested in other people's love life?"

He only shrugged and dragged a dramatic sigh. "Can't help it, I'm such a romantic."

Seokjin laughed under his breath. "To be honest, I sometimes felt the same," he admitted then, "And I still think it whenever I catch them looking at each other. Perhaps it was their professionalism that kept them from going further."

"Or perhaps they're just dating in secret."

He perked up at this, seeing Jimin wiggling his brows at him. "You think so?"

"I might or might not have my sources."

The older man laughed out, nodding. "Well, good for them then."

"But wait!" Jimin exclaimed then, suddenly having processed something else. "You said you got married? To Yongsun?"

Seokjin's eyes widened, realising he had indeed mentioned it. He bit back a smile, confirming it again with a quick nod. "Yeah.."

"And I wasn't invited to the wedding?" Jimin faked offence to which Seokjin grinned.

"Figured you wouldn't have wanted to get arrested."

"True. But since you only met her thanks to me, I still think I deserved it."

"It surely wasn't thanks to you.."

"Now, don't be so unfair," Jimin pouted, "You wouldn't have been at that ship if I hadn't planned to steal the 'black star'." He was referring to the party a CEO of one of the biggest korean companies had thrown for his wife's birthday two years ago. And that wife had happened to own a very valuable black pearl, which she was wearing on a spray brooch and which the gang had been after. "So technically, I deserved an invitation."

Seokjin groaned in annoyance, getting tired of their quarrel. "You know what? I take it back. It's been great since you retired. I finally got some peace."

"Rude considering I practically introduced you to her."

"You didn't 'introduce' her to me!" Seokjin objected with a laugh, "You pushed her on me when I was running after you!"

"Still counts - you're married now, aren't you?" Jimin pointed out with a sly grin.

He wasn't able to disagree with that. So he gave up with an exhausted sigh.

"So?" Seokjin coughen then in hopes of changing topics and looked around. "And where's the rest?"

"Thought you had kept track on all of us."

"I did," he corrected, "But since interpol doesn't have any resources here, it wasn't too easy and there're some gaps."

Jimin hummed, stirring his coffee with the straw.. "Well, Taehyungie and his wife live nearby."

"You mean Cassandra?"

"Oh, you even got her name! Impressive!"

"Aish, stop with the sarcasm! Of course I know all your associates! I hunted you guys for years after all." Seokjin rolled his eyes before adding with a smirk, "And I was pretty good at it."

Jimin couldn't stop laughing, finding it always amusing how his opponent reacted when getting upset. "Never doubted your skills."

"So the two live nearby."

He nodded. "Yeah, she works at a hospital here."

"And Yoongi?"

"Right now, he's at one of the temples in the mountains. Meditating, training or whatever," Jimin snorted, drinking the last bit of coffee. He always found it quite lame whenever Yoongi got in one of his 'monk moods' - as Jimin called them - every few years and just disappeared for awhile to disconnect from everything. But perhaps he was just a little envious of that skill, since he himself could never do it. "But knowing him, he'll be back in the city in a few weeks."

Seokjin hummed. The corners of his lips shaping a cocky smile. "Needless to ask where Arabella ended up, right?"

"Right," a grin tucking on Jimin's full lips. His glance falling down to his watch then. "I'm actually waiting here for her. She should come any minute now."

"To be honest," Seokjin began then with a light frown on his soft features, "I always knew you guys would retire some day. I just assumed it'd be along with me."

"Well, you know we aren't in our early twenties anymore and besides.. some priorities shifted with time."

Seokjin hummed. Understanding it in a way. After all, same applied to him by now. Still he couldn't help wondering what priorities had changed for Jimin and why.

A black Harley Davidson came to an abrupt halt in front of them then. Arabella taking her helmet off, her hair swaying as it fell over her shoulders.

"Bella-baby, you're late!"

"I said around six, not exactly. Not my fault you came here too early," she huffed. Her eyes widening when spotting the man next to him. "Pops, you here?"

She was actually quite happy to see Seokjin again, having kind of missed him - as weird as it sounded. She had been so used of having him always on their back, it was weird it wasn't the case anymore.

Seokjin, however, didn't seem as pleased. The old nickname cuasing him to roll his eyes. "Seriously, when will you guys ever quit calling me 'pops'?"

"Probably never, it's your nickname for a reason after all."

He laughed under his breath. "You never told me the reason though."

Arabella and Jimin exchanged a look, giggling. "Isn't it obvious? You were always running after us and scolding us. Like a dad."

"And you're older than us, so it fit."

He was speechless for a moment. In a way that stupid nickname that he had secretly grown fond of, made sense. It was even somehow cute, in a very weird and twisted way. He coughed then, feeling his ears becoming red. "I've got to go now," he announced and stood up, "Can't let Yong wait alone for too long. See you guys." He waved at them as he walked away. Only to shortly turn around then with a smirk. "Oh, but before I forget.. You don't coincidentally know anything about that stolen jade statue that is all over the local newpapers?"

Arabella and Jimin looked at each other, before giving him an innocent shrug. Shaking their heads. "No, why would we? We're retired now, remember?"

"Right. Right," Seokjin let out a loud laugh. Not being convinced at all. "Well, see you then."

As he disappeared around the corner, a frowned settled on Arabella's features. "He didn't buy it, did he?"

"So what?" Jimin shrugged and picked up his book, shoving it inside his jacket. "He can't do anything about it as long as we don't leave the country."

They might've officially retired a few months ago, but that didn't mean they'd be dead. After all they'd never be the kind to be content with a 'normal' life. Even if there was no one to hunt them anymore, neither from interpol nor from any organization - Namjoon and Hoseok having liquidated 'owl inc' and its branches only a year ago - they still wanted to keep the excitement, thrill and fun. Just in smaller portions here and there.

"Anyway, let's go."

Arabella tossed him the second helmet before putting her own on and he got on the bike behind her. His arms wrapping around her waist, purposely way too high to be closer to her boobs and she rolled her eyes. Already used to his attics.

She switched the ignition button on, her foot kicking up the kickstand. "By the way," he spoke up then, propping his chin on her shoulder with an arched brow as he curiously looked up to her. "Don't you think it'd be better not to drive the bike for now? You know, because of the.." His eyes pointed down at her belly before returning to her.

She kind of wanted to be annoyed at him for even suggesting this, but then again she understood his worries. She pecked his cheek. "When the bump starts showing, I will," she smiled and squeezed the clutch lever all the way to the grip. His arms tightening around her.

And they drove off.

THE END

»»»

-thank you all for reading this story! it was fun writing something totally new for once, so hope you also had fun reading it!

❗ the sequel a thief's end ✨ || bts • myg is out as well!

❗the prequel "a thief's origin ✨ || bts • kth" along with one shots for jungkook and seokjin are in the works!

- check out my other bts stories, too: here

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chimchimmarie · 5 months

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Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Word Count: 700ish

Summary: Seeing your ex-boyfriend again after ten months since the breakup. He looks better than he has ever been. You try to show him you’re okay, but little does he know, you’re not.

Featured Song: “How Are You?” By Dylan Brady and Rosie

AN: Hello everyone! I’ve started a new writing series featuring songs that I personally love. I like sad, angsty songs. So I’m giving you a heads up on the songs I’ll be featuring. They will most probably be the type that’ll rip your hearts out and make you remember every sad breakup you’ve ever had. I listened to “How Are You?” By Dylan Brady and Rosie while writing this one. This wasn’t heavily edited, So I’m sorry for any errors. I personally made the banner for this fic. I don’t own any of the pictures.

Time seems to stop the moment you found his eyes. You were walking in while Jimin was walking out. The little cafe you used to frequent with him suddenly was filled with a nostalgic air that hurts you but awakens something in you at the same time. The memories cripple you and you stay planted where you stand. But your eyes have never left his.

Jimin is your ex-boyfriend. It still feels so wrong to call him that. It’s like your whole being hasn’t been acclimated to the fact that you’re nothing but mere strangers now. The denial is still there—alive and kicking, like the breakup only happened yesterday.

In reality, You’ve probably meant nothing to him since that cold December day. It has been ten months. He doesn’t know it, but he still means the world to you until now.

“How are you?” His deep honeyed voice still sends a shiver through your skin, leaving goosebumps in its trails like it’s the first time.

You bit your tongue and just smile.

“I’m good.” You lie.

You could lie to him and to everyone else, but you couldn’t lie to yourself.

You were not good. You were far from being good. You were not okay. There’s this big hole in your heart. The same heart that hasn’t been beating since Jimin ended things.

You were barely living. But here you are. You’ve managed to act like you still have a life, when all you really were was a shell—hollow on the inside, devoid of anything that resembles life.

Perhaps Jimin doesn’t realize that he had taken everything with him the moment he left. Everything. Including your heart and all the love and hope that had breathed life into it.

It’s been months and months of barely struggling to survive. Months and months of drowning in your own pool of tears night after night. It feels like forever now but you still find yourself replaying the night you lost him, wondering how you could have prevented it, how you could have done more, how you could have made him change his mind.

Every night you look at the ceiling in your cold bedroom, thinking about Jimin and how he said he didn’t know how to love you anymore.

Every night you cry and wish you can change it all. Every night you whisper a silent prayer for him to come back.

Deep inside, you wish he’d known how bad it hurt to lie. To say you’re okay when you’re not. Like what you’ve been doing since he left. Every time someone you knew would ask you how you were doing, you’d say your fine. But it rips you to pieces each time.

The pain is so bad that you want so desperately to say you’re not okay. That it’s hard to breathe. That it’s hard to live. That your world has been upside down ever since he hasn’t been in it.

But here he was. He looks better than he has ever been.

He dyed his hair that honey blonde you’ve always liked. His cheeks are full and rosy. He has that sheen of happiness radiating through him. Just like the Jimin you remember. The Jimin who was yours.

It’s nowhere near the Jimin who broke your heart. The one who begged for you to let him go, to forget him, to stop loving him, like it was so easy.

This Jimin is full of life. This Jimin looks so happy now. This is the Jimin you fell in love with.

How is he not dying even just a little bit?

How is he already over things?

How is he already over you?

“It’s… been a while.” You add, looking into his eyes. Those angel eyes that had you weak in the knees then, as you are now.

“How are you?” Your voice faint, almost a whisper. But Jimin caught it.

You manage to ask back like the hole in your chest isn’t burning just looking at his perfect face.

He gifts you a smile. Soft and knowing.

And just like that, you break all over again.

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startrixsworld · 1 year

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hey loves! so recently i’ve been listening to SOS by sza and kill bill really has sparked a lil nerve in me to write a ……yandere reader x bts member 😳 i haven’t come across a fic that had a yandere reader but i hope it turns put well for me! stay tuned for it soon!

#bts fanfic #bts #bts x reader #bts fic #fanfic #yandere #lovers #lovers to exes #bts namjoon #jeon jungkook #jung hoseok #park jimin #min yoongi #kim namjoon #kim taehyung #kim seokjin #bts army #i dont fucking know #this is crazy but fun idk 😭

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mncldstudio · 2 years

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“He misses him. Jimin. He misses everything about him, even the foolish things, like the cap of the toothpaste that always ends up who-knows-where, the chaos of pots and pans in the kitchen during breakfast, the ashtray that he never emptied abandoned on the small balcony.”

𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾’𝗌 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾𝗌. —

#yoonmin #yoonmin au #min yoongi #park jimin #bts suga #bts jimim #bts au fanfic #ex lovers

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kpopfanfictrash · 5 months

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Jingle All the Way Collaboration

Coming your way this holiday season! Whether you've been naughty or nice, you'll have seven fics to unwrap by @kpopfanfictrash , @leahsfavefics , @kithtaehyung , @yoonia , @cybrsan and @sugaurora.

All second chance romance. All holiday themed. All attempting to utilize the same quote: "The holidays aren't so bad with you around." Come down the chimney, embrace your inner Vixen, and warm up this season with the Jingle All the Way collab!

Content Creator: all amazing banners are made by the truly spectacular @kithtaehyung!!

(Links to be added as fics are posted)

Title: The Ten Days of Ex-Mas

Author: @kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: Jimin x Reader (f)

Rating/Genre: M (18+); angst, fluff, smut; hockey player au, second chance au, oh noo there was only one bed

Summary: Three months following the worst break-up of your life, you finally feel ready to start moving on. The world, it seems, has other ideas when you pick up the phone and find your ex-boyfriend calling.

Jimin Park, star right winger of the NHL and (until recently), the love of your life, has a very large problem. Despite the courage he regularly shows on the ice, in his personal life, Jimin is kind of a coward. When you broke up this fall, he could barely admit it. Not to his neighbors. Not to his friends. Not even to his family, who are expecting him home for Christmas. In a desperate plea for more time, Jimin begs you to pretend you’re still dating – and to his surprise, you agree. Faced with a second chance, Jimin is determined not to squander it. If only fixing a relationship were as easy as falling in love.

Posting Date: December 19th, 2023

Title: All I Want for Christmas is Joon

Author: @leahsfavefics

Pairing: art historian!Namjoon x art historian!reader (f)

Rating/genre: m (18+) angst, fluff, smut, second chance au

Summary: You have had a rough year following the mutual break up with your grad school sweetheart. On a whim, you book a spontaneous trip to Europe for the holidays to help get you out of the funk you’re in and assert your independence. It would be great, if it weren’t for the fact that you keep bumping into your ex boyfriend.

Posting Date: December 21st, 2023

Title: Back to December

Author: @kithtaehyung

Pairing: Seokjin x Reader(f)

Rating/Genre: M (18+); angst, fluff, smut; brother’s best friend au, wedding au, second chance au

Summary: Ever since you left town to pursue your dreams, life has fast forwarded into one big blur. so when you hit pause to attend your brother’s wedding exactly three years later, your brain instinctively resets and rewinds. because you have to spend it with the very person that had been there at the start. the one person you regret leaving behind.

Posting Date: TBD

Title: A Christmas Fix

Author: @yoonia

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader(f)

Rating/Genre: M (18+), secret baby au, s2l au, fake dating au on the side (more on that later)

Summary: One-night stands are supposed to be nothing more than just. It shouldn’t have involved seeing those two red lines looking back at you weeks later without a name or a contact number linking you back to your mystery man. Nothing more but his face. The unforgettable face that would sometimes appear in your dreams at night. So unforgettable that you immediately recognise him the moment he walks into your family home at Christmas, hand-in-hand with your older stepsister.

Title: Everwinter

Author: @kithtaehyung

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader(f)

Rating/Genre: M (18+); angst, fluff, smut; ex-fwb 2 lovers au, second chance au

Summary: You told him you loved him, and that was a mistake. Because years later, you both meet up with your old friend group for a holiday trip, and neither of you have forgotten that.

Posting Date: TBD

Title: Miracle of the Season

Author: @cybrsan

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Rating/Genre: M (18+); angst, fluff, smut; angel au, second chance au

Summary: Cast out of Heaven after a painful betrayal, you find yourself having to navigate the intricacies of human life without any guidance from the Creator or the family you have always known. Things only get worse as the holiday season reaches its peak, with reminders of the life you left behind everywhere you look. Just when you think things can’t get any worse, a familiar face pops up and you aren’t sure whether to consider it a blessing or a curse.

Posting Date: December 29th, 2023

Title: A Porn Star's Guide to the Holidays

Author: @sugaurora

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader(f)

Rating/Genre: M (18+); smut; second chance au

Summary: Jung Hoseok was your first love, a relationship that ended only because your post-high school dreams led you down two very different paths. Yours brought you to Jeon Jungkook, an innovative talent agent promising to produce the most well-loved adult entertainment artists of the era. And that’s how you became an erotic market darling, doing just about everything from outdoor gangbangs to golden showers and a long list of kinks in between.

Ten years later and you’re ready to find a new path, celebrating your exit from the business with one last appearance at the biggest adult industry convention of the year. Only when you arrive, you find yourself unexpectedly face-to-face with your high school sweetheart. Suddenly, you’re forced to confront where the years have taken you and feelings that may have never quite gone away.

What’s a former porn star to do?

Posting Date: TBD

1K notes · View notes

cinnaminsvga · 1 month

Text

Harana | Jungkook

harana (n.): the act of wooing someone by serenading them

→ summary:

Unwilling to settle down with you after five years of dating, Jeon Jungkook decides to break up to chase after his dreams. In the aftermath, you leave your hometown, desperate to forget your past and relearn what it means to be on your own. Two years later while on your way to work, you pass by a familiar voice singing songs about a girl he had left behind.

{or alternatively: Jungkook still sings the love songs that he wrote for you. He still means them, too.}

→ genre: busker!au, exes to lovers, angst, humor → warnings: jimin is insane and kinda crude (he has some issues going on), jungkook is a pathetic wet bunny but he's trying his best, oc has So Many Problems, so much arguing and yearning, ambiguous ending??? but my god there is hope!! the humanity of it all!! → words: 16.1K → a/n: HOLY SHIT IM BACK (kinda) and happy new year!! yeah ok its march but im relearning how to form coherent sentences so be patient ;w; this is the first installment of my hfoh series that i teased a LONG time ago... i made it a resolution to complete this series by the end of the year before i kms (Keep Myself Safe) so here's to a brand new year :D (oh god @ universe pls be kind)

part of the “heart full of hugot” series

Two days before the incident, your shower nozzle decides to explode.

Okay, you have to admit that statement is a little misleading. Shower nozzles, in all its nonsentience, do not randomly decide to explode no matter how much you try to defend yourself to your landlord. Maybe your grip had been a little too harsh that morning, or maybe hanging 5 pounds of hair products on the handle had been a bit too much for the old sport to handle. Or maybe, just maybe, the universe was warning you about the incident.

Whatever it was, it doesn’t erase the fact that your shower would be out of commission for the next week or so (though your landlord seems adamant about prolonging your suffering as long as possible). Until then, you’re going to have to find some other ways to keep the grease and grime from building on you. Heavens know that you already have a thriving ecosystem living in the back of your couch—you don’t need another one growing under your armpits.

Lucky for you, you have friends. More importantly, you have friends who have showers. There is one problem though—all your friends live on the other side of the country.

It’s been two years since you moved to the Big City™️, but you have done little to grow your social network. Call it introversion or depression, either way, you have no more contacts on your phone than you did when you left your hometown. Well, except for one person, if you could even consider him one. Frankly, you didn’t have a choice.

“Welcome to my humble abode, stinky,” Jimin greets you as you enter his house. Your nose is instantly assaulted by the smell of Bath & Body Works® Sweet Pea, reminding you once more why you didn’t consider him a friend.

“Hey,” you reply gruffly, shucking your ratty shoes near his entrance. Your shoes look incredibly out of place amidst the sea of designer Chelsea boots and a singular pair of thigh-high heels. You take a glance at his living room, already feeling worse about yourself tenfold.

You had met Park Jimin by complete accident, much like how his mother probably felt when she first saw him too. You had never known anyone quite as… interesting as him, to put it lightly.

When you got your job as a hostess for a luxury bar and restaurant, you figured you wouldn’t make many friends with your coworkers. Everyone was so… pretty, but in the shiny, untouchable sort of way. Almost all of the servers were as gorgeous as the models you’d see in magazines. You hadn’t known that the owners only hired a certain “demographic” of people for their restaurant, and you were equal parts flattered and disgusted that you’d somehow made it (though you suppose your bullshitting skills were all to thank).

Unsurprisingly, even the bartenders were gorgeous, including one Park Jimin. He did have an aura to him that screamed “I’m a cut above the rest and I know it,” but that could just be the gold chains dripping down his neck. You almost mistook him as one of the patrons who mistakenly made his way behind the bar, and knowing the sort of clientele you’ve had to deal with so far, you wouldn’t have been surprised. It took a couple of weeks before you finally found out who he was (and what his fucking problem was).

Jimin was a part-time bartender with a full-time job as a bitch a self-made entrepreneur. Which is to say, he sold… tasteful photos of himself on the internet. You had nothing against his line of work. In fact, you would go far as to say you didn’t give a shit what he did outside of your shared workspace. But if there’s one thing Jimin is, it’s that he hates being ignored.

So when you were adamant about not oohing and aahing at everything that makes Park Jimin perfect, he made it his self-appointed mission to befriend you. Or at least that’s what he claims, but given how he treats you lesser than the shit that cakes his cheeks, you have a lot of doubts. Perhaps he’s never made an effort to make a friend, hence his inexperience with being a decent human being. Or perhaps he’s just an asshole, but who is to say? The point is: he’s the only person you knew in this godforsaken city who would likely allow you to use his shower without being awkward about it and that’s that.

The worst part about being an acquaintance with Park Jimin was that he lived in the richest area of Downtown but he wasn’t old money, that’s for sure. His entire essence screamed overconsumption, and his myriad of little trinkets littered across his apartment confirmed your previous assessment. You wouldn’t be surprised if you opened his freezer and found ten types of ice sorted assorted by color and shape like the extra bitch that he was.

He made his money through sheer force, and it would have impressed you if he wasn’t, you know. Him.

“Bathroom is over there. I placed a towel and other shower amenities that you can borrow,” he says pointing to a door with a large “FART ZONE: ENTER WITH CAUTION” sign taped to it. You don’t ask.

“Thanks,” you say flatly. You wait patiently for his out-of-pocket comment.

Like clockwork, Jimin smirks. “Sure thing. I gave you the super heavy-duty stuff. Figured you’d burn a hole through my expensive towels with how stinky you are, with your yeasty cu—”

“Aaaand I’ll be done in a few minutes. Thanks again Jimin,” you interrupt, making your way to the bathroom and slamming the door with as much force as you can muster. You hear something fall as the door shuts, and you vaguely hear Jimin mutter something about his “fart zone” signage.

You begin to prepare your shower routine, humming lowly as you go about your business. You try to ignore the suffocating scent of ten million diffusers entering your nostrils, wondering for the umpteenth time if Jimin is suffering from long-term olfactory dysfunction.

“Focus, Y/N. The quicker you shower, the quicker you can get the fuck out of here,” you whisper to yourself. However, in your haste, you knock over Jimin’s towel by accident. When the towel falls, a sheet of sandpaper slips out from underneath it, and you stare bemusedly until it finally hits you.

“YOU ARE SUCH A LITTLE BITCH!”

From behind the door, you can hear Jimin’s infamous cackle. “Did you find the loofah? I got it just for you, darling!” he shouts back through his laughter, and you just grumble back in response. How on earth no one has strangled him to death, you have no idea.

“Whatever. I’m gonna shower now! Go beat off or whatever the fuck you do in your spare time,” you grouse, stripping as quickly as possible.

When the first droplets of water hit your body, you can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. You had both anticipated and dreaded going to Jimin’s house, but you desperately needed the shower. So you go through your routine, trying to find some semblance of relaxation throughout the process. However, it seems that Jimin was yearning for a little bit of attention as he chose to recline on the other side of the door and chat your ear off. Peace was never an option, it seems.

“Hey, Y/N! So why haven’t I seen you at work recently?” Jimin hollers from his living room. Despite the wall separating you, his voice manages to retain its volume.

You squirt a large glob of Jimin’s (expensive) conditioner onto your hands. “What do you mean? I go to work every day. You were the one who hasn’t been clocking in.”

You can hear Jimin scoff. “Um, correction! I went to work last Friday, which so happened to be your day off. If I didn’t know any better, I would have assumed you were avoiding me.”

And right you are, you think. But instead, you say, “Yeah, what a coincidence. I’ll be back to my regular schedule on Monday, though.”

“So that means you didn’t see the Justin Bieber wannabe stationed outside the restaurant then?” Jimin asks, voice miffed. “The guy suddenly sat down by the entrance window and a whole damn crowd started to appear! The absolute nerve of these people—don’t they know Park Jimin was just past the doors?”

This provokes Jimin to go on his long epic soliloquy, which you’ve learned to drown out over the past two years. He could go on hour-long tirades if he wanted, and any interruption from you would just bounce off his nonfunctioning ears. And so, you allow his voice to fall to the back of your mind, similar to white noise if it wasn’t so grating.

However, this was likely your greatest mistake. If you hadn’t been so exhausted, or if Park Jimin hadn’t been so damn annoying all the time, or if the stars had aligned just right… Maybe you would have been forewarned about the incident. It’s as if the universe was screaming at you to pay attention, but alas… You were standing on the proverbial highway, unbeknownst to the incoming traffic because you had your metaphorical AirPods on.

So there you are, completely showered but none the wiser to your impending doom, naively looking to the future with unsuspecting eyes. Even if you had known of what was to come, would avoiding it even be possible? In hindsight, you suppose not, but you still kick yourself for being so blind. If only you’d steeled your heart, then maybe you wouldn’t have felt like vomiting in front of a crowd of innocent bystanders the very next day.

xxx

Monday comes and your shower still isn’t fixed. Jimin makes the benevolent gesture of allowing you to use his shower in the meantime, though you’ll only partake in his offer as minimally as possible. He does mention that he’ll need at least an hour’s notice, warning you about “accidental voyeurism.” You shudder to think of what sort of horror you might find if you did visit him without warning, and you pray for the continued well-being of your retinas.

On your way to work, you’re too busy watching cute videos of animals to notice the unusual flock of people idling close to your workplace. When you get closer, however, the growing commotion is enough to rip your gaze away from your phone, and the sight of the large crowd makes you stop in your tracks.

It is 4 pm and the usual line of waiting patrons should not start piling up for another three hours, so this confuses you more than anything. You shuffle closer, squinting at the crowd until you notice that they aren’t lined up at all; instead, they have congregated into a large circle, but you are too far to see what they are surrounding.

An accident? You worry, wondering if something terrible happened. You tiptoe above the heads of people, subtly moving forward to take a better look. Curse you and your curiosity. You take a deep breath, bracing yourself to see something grotesque or astonishing, but instead…

It’s worse.

Inching closer, you can begin to hear a soft thrumming of a guitar and a gentle singing voice that causes alarm bells to ring in your ears. The warm melody digs up old memories of a time long past: of ballads sung outside your childhood bedroom window, of promises whispered under Spiderman sheets, of tender caresses tucking stray hairs behind your ears… They flood your senses, but all you can feel is dread.

It can’t be who you think it is. You accidentally elbow a guy on your way to get closer, unsteadying his grip on his phone.

“Hey, watch it! I’m filming a totally not-staged TikTok over here!” He yells, but you can hardly pay attention to him when you feel unnaturally drawn to come closer, still.

You’re nearly at the front, with just a couple of teenagers standing between you and the (not-so) mysterious street performer. But the distance is enough, and your breath catches. You can see him—

Black hair partially hidden under a bucket hat. Boots bigger than Pangaea and a pair of eyes equally as large. Dark ink snaking down his arms, peeking out from under oversized sleeves. Piercings that could rival Park Jimin on a good day. He isn’t facing you, but you can still see his big doe eyes, gentle sloping nose, and pretty lips stretched into a handsome smile.

Your heart is thundering in your chest. This can’t be happening, you panic. After two whole years of rebuilding and reshaping yourself, relearning how to be yourself and not… not just his girlfriend.

Jeon Jungkook stands before you, busking in front of your workplace of all locations. The universe could not have been any crueler to you.

You—you had been known as nothing more than Jeon Jungkook’s high school sweetheart. Buried memories of snide comments from jealous teen girls fill your mind, reminding you of the time when you were coined a simple side piece to the main attraction. Decor, as they would call you. Nothing more than a girl who happened to snag Jungkook before people realized he was going to turn… hot. A hot guy who could sing. An inevitable chic magnet, as they would call him.

And now, years later after much therapy and soul searching, your worst nightmare is standing in front of you in the flesh. This is what you will eventually dub the incident.

At that moment, however, there is little to no time to dwell on naming this ongoing core memory. All you can feel is the adrenaline pumping through your veins, as well as the nausea rising up your throat. You stumble backward, blatantly shoving onlookers away as you struggle to find some air to breathe. In hindsight, you probably should have backed away as subtly as possible, but you hope that your dyed hair might be different enough that Jungkook wouldn’t know it was you if he had glanced your way.

Even when you stagger towards your work establishment, the walls cannot perfectly muffle his soothing singing. You can’t make out the lyrics to his song too well, but his unmistakable voice is hard to ignore. Working as a hostess, your station is also coincidentally as close to the door as possible for maximum torture.

This can’t get any worse, you think as your mind races with conflicting emotions. You thought you had moved on, thought you were past the pain and the memories, but seeing Jungkook again, unexpectedly, stirs up a storm of feelings you thought were buried deep. Anger, hurt, betrayal—all rush to the surface, threatening to overwhelm you.

But there is no time to unpack all that baggage right now. Time will continue to march on, and your job is still on the line. How can you have the time to have a mental breakdown when you were still living paycheck to paycheck?

But even as you try to push Jungkook out of your mind, his voice echoes in your ears, his image burned into your memory. It's as if the universe is laughing at your misery, reminding you that despite all your supposed growth, you are still just you.

Painfully and pathetically you.

As you struggle to pull yourself together, a familiarly loud voice rings outside the edge of your consciousness. “Hey, Y/N! Fancy seeing you here…” Jimin greets you, his usual jovial demeanor halting midway when he sees your panicked expression. He clears his throat, perplexed. “Umm… Are you alright there, girl? You’re looking a little pale.”

You do not even have the mental capacity to wonder why Park Jimin was miraculously early to his shift, nor why he seems genuinely worried for you. Rather, all you can do is wave him off and use what little time you have before the restaurant opens to steel yourself for hours of melodious torture.

“I’m fine, Park. You should get to work,” you grit out, wiping your sweaty palms on your uniform. Normally, Jimin would have teased you about the obvious wrinkles on your skirt.

“You’re not the boss of me,” Jimin huffs, always the contrarian. He thinks better of it, however, and softens his tone. “Are you feeling sick or something? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

You freeze, perhaps giving yourself away a little. “I’m fine,” you repeat.

“You know, if you refuse to elaborate, I’m going to have to retract your shower privileges,” Jimin taunts with a smirk.

You feel a migraine growing by your temple, making you wince. God, why must men be the source of all your problems?

“I’m just… a little annoyed by the busker outside the restaurant,” you eventually admit, trying to be vague. Unfortunately for you, Jimin hates beating around the bush and would never take your crap if he knows something is up.

Unable to withstand the weight of his unimpressed stare, you clarify, “He was someone I used to know, that’s all.” You aren’t going to be any more specific than that, though you imagine Jimin gets the picture. You zip your lips, hoping to whoever is causing you pain that Jimin would somehow let the matter drop and leave you to your misery.

You brace yourself for his onslaught of questioning to come, and… it doesn’t happen. Instead, when you glance at Jimin, he is mysteriously stone faced. You wait for him to speak for what feels like a few minutes, but he doesn’t show any signs of wanting to tease or ridicule you. He simply watches you with a pensive expression. You can barely stop yourself from staring back at him, slack-jawed at his silence.

Of course, you aren’t just going to question your luck, or what little you have at least. So, you stay silent back and fidget uncomfortably.

Finally, Jimin seems to snap out of his strange reverie. He fixes you with a bizarrely sympathetic grin, patting you affectionately on the back. “I see… Well, if you ever need a drink tonight, head over to the bar for a little sip. I got you covered,” is all he says in response before sashaying away.

That was so fucking weird. You want to chase after him, perhaps beat the truth out of him. Jimin is nothing but a scheming dick, and you aren’t about to let him roam free with such sensitive information about yourself. Just as you’re about to stomp his ass (perhaps to relieve some of the building tension from your weary soul), your manager pops his head from his office door.

“Y/N! Make sure you’re logged into the booking system. There’s going to be a party of 20 coming in about an hour,” he reminds you, shooting you an apologetic look. You nod back with a sigh, swiping the booking tablet from the hostess desk and scrolling through the logs. Sure enough, it is going to be a busy night despite being a Monday evening. Perhaps a little busier than usual, in fact.

Whatever. You will use whatever distraction you can get, and perhaps the approaching noise from the restaurant patrons will be enough to drown out the sound of his voice.

You aren’t religious by any means, but you pray to whatever higher power exists that Jeon Jungkook doesn’t somehow decide to enter the restaurant. Stay outside, you plead. Outside the restaurant and your life, if possible.

Throughout the evening, you do your best to push aside the memories that threaten to resurface. You greet customers with a smile, lead them to their tables, and ensure their dining experience is pleasant despite the anxiety poisoning your insides. It's a routine you've perfected over time, a shield against the chaos of your emotions.

As the night wears on, you can feel Jimin's eyes on you from across the restaurant. You sneak glances back at him, and you blanch at his pitying gaze. If the restaurant had been slightly less crowded, you would have flipped him off.

He’s probably enjoying my suffering, you think darkly. Unwilling to give him the satisfaction, you straighten up and do your best to appear more unaffected. Just as you do so, you can hear Jungkook perfectly hitting a soulful high note.

“I’m so sorry for thinking I was strong,” you whisper to the universe. “Forgive me for my insolence.” You clench your fist in anguish, ignoring the confused looks from the customers in front of you.

By the time your shift comes to a close, you are completely and utterly drained. You feel like a snail that has been continuously salted over the past eight hours, and you cannot help but cheer in relief when the clock finally strikes two in the morning. You have to wait for the last few diners to make their leave, but otherwise you are ready to let your bed swallow you whole.

You stand by your hostess desk, leaning your head against it with a defeated sigh. Jungkook’s voice had died down only a few minutes ago, and you hope that by this point he has mercifully left the premises. You want to take a peek to make sure, but just as you’re about to make your way to the door, you feel a hand on your shoulder stop you in your tracks.

“‘Sup, bitch.” Jimin still has that weird, pitying gaze pointed at you, though his words don’t match it. “Are you okay to go home alone tonight? I can bring your dumb ass home if you want.”

You shove his hand away, ready to bite his head off when you think better of it. If Jimin drives you home, then that lowers the chances of seeing Jungkook down to pretty much zero.

“You know what? Thanks,” you grouse. Jimin smiles at you winningly, and the image of it brings a shiver down your spine. You hit him, creeped out. “Hey. Stop that, will you? You’re being really weird?”

Jimin scoffs, crossing his arms. “Me? Weird? At least I don’t look like a damn firework ready to explode just because my cringelord ex-boyfriend is singing sappy love songs outside—”

“Shut the fuck up,” you seethe, stomping on his foot. He yelps in pain and slaps your shoulder in retaliation.

“Ouch! Watch your ogre feet! My shoes are worth twice your monthly rent I’ll have you know,” he bristles. He breathes deeply, likely finding his inner calm (which you doubt exists). “But because I’m so nice, I’ll ignore your earlier transgression and blame it on your underdeveloped amygdala.”

You don’t know what’s more surprising: the fact that Jimin knew what an amygdala was or that he was forgiving you in the first place. “Whatever. Let’s finish closing up and then head out. I’m exhausted.”

You make quick work of your task and when you’re ready to head out, Jimin is already waiting by the backdoor. He’s twirling his car keys with a finger and gestures for you to follow him. As you make your way to his car in the back parking lot, you catch sight of a lone figure standing next to a beat-up pickup truck. He’s leaning against it, his hands busy tuning a battered guitar.

Your breath hitches, and you immediately feel nauseous. Of course the incident has yet to end. The night is young, after all.

Jimin accidentally slams the backdoor closed, and the noise wrenches Jungkook’s attention away from his ministrations. Immediately, his eyes lock with Jimin before finally turning to you.

Your heart skips a beat as he gazes at you, your mind racing with a hurricane of emotions. You hadn’t expected to see him again so soon, especially not after the tumultuous encounter earlier in the day. What did you say earlier? That “the chances of seeing Jungkook was down to pretty much zero”?

The chances of seeing Jungkook is low, but never zero, your mind unhelpfully supplies.

There is a long period of awkward silence. Jungkook has his mouth slightly agape, his hand subconsciously lowering his guitar to rest against his truck. To your left, Jimin’s breathing quickens slightly. You, on the other hand, are trying your best not to projectile vomit in this damned parking lot.

Jungkook is the one who decides to break the delicate silence. “Is that you…?” he calls out hesitantly.

Don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my—

“Y/N,” Jimin interjects. His gaze is steel cold, uncharacteristic of the carefree boy. He slings an arm around your shoulders, gently nudging you towards his car. With your view still fixed on Jungkook, you miss the way Jimin shoots the other boy with a playful smirk. “C’mon, babe. Let’s go home.”

His words startle both you and Jungkook. “Wha—? Jimin?” you splutter, flushing at his flirtatious undertone. You want to curse him out for his strange behavior, but all the shock has left you mute.

Jimin all but shoves you into the passenger seat. But just as he’s about to slam the car door, you hear Jungkook call out your name. It’s fleeting and quiet, but you heard him crystal clear.

It breaks your spirit to hear him say your name. For a moment, you feel as though you are floating.

When was the last time he called your name? And so softly, too? If you could replay that moment over and over, would you be able to catch some signs of tenderness in his voice? When you close your eyes later that night, would your dreams show you that he had been gazing at you with yearning? Was any of it true?

As Jimin starts the car and pulls away from the curb, you steal one last glance out the window, only to find Jungkook staring at you with an arm outstretched. You continue to watch him until his figure disappears into the night.

You are quietly immersed in your own thoughts, the whirlwind of emotions intensifying your persistent migraine. Unaccustomed to silence, Jimin decides to give his unsolicited two cents, as per usual.

“Geez. Didn’t know you were into the whole starving artist type. If I’d known, then maybe I’d stop trying to brag about my fortune to you,” Jimin scoffs. “If loser buskers like him impress you, then maybe I should—”

“Would you shut the fuck up for once in your fucking life!” You explode, whirling to face him with a glare. Jimin has the audacity to flinch, but he doesn’t take his eyes off the road.

“What the fuck? Why the hell are you mad at me?”

“What the hell was that back there? ‘C’mon babe.’” You mimic his voice with a sneer. “Why on earth would you do that? Now he thinks that we…”

“Why do you care what he thinks? He’s your ex, remember?” Jimin cuts you off, but you can’t even refute him. He continues, “Figured as much. And judging by how spooked you’ve looked all day, I have to assume that he was an asshole, right? Why else would you accept my offer for a ride home if you really wanted to avoid seeing him?”

You shrink under his accurate assumptions. Damn, were you really that easy to read? “I… I mean, yeah but…” You clear your throat, still feeling wronged by him. “You didn’t have to act like a weird prick in front of him!”

Without warning, the floodgates burst forth. You begin to ramble, the thoughts that have been weighing you down pouring out of you in waves. “Jungkook was my ex, yeah. But he wasn’t an asshole. On the contrary, he was really sweet. The nicest guy in my school, at least. Wouldn’t hurt a fly, that sort of person. I dated him all throughout high school and he was a great partner.”

Jimin hums skeptically. “Then why the messy break-up?”

“It wasn’t messy!” You retort defensively.

“Could’ve fooled me!” Jimin snorts. “I also frequently act like a trembling kitten when I see my exes,” he says sarcastically.

You ignore him. “The reason we broke it off was because he wanted to pursue his dreams to become a singer after high school and I wanted to do other things. It was a mutual break-up! Honestly, I’m glad that we did. Too many girls wanted him and all the unwanted attention was getting on my nerves. I was glad to find a reason to end it all,” you explain, hoping you didn’t sound as shaky as you felt. What you said was mostly true, though you left out the important bits to yourself. Mostly to save some of your dignity intact. (Truthfully, you just didn’t want to admit things you weren’t ready to face.)

“Then if you’re so glad, why do you look like you wanted to shit yourself? It ain’t adding up,” Jimin fires back.

“It’s just—” you stammer, trying to find a reason why you were so bent out of shape after seeing him. “I-I was caught off guard, I guess. I knew he was pursuing his dreams to sing and all, so I expected him to leave the country. I wasn’t expecting to see him outside where I work, of all places,” you mutter lamely. You have your head bowed, biting your lips from the nerves. Again, you weren’t totally lying.

Jimin is silent for a moment, contemplating your admission. When he looks so calm like this, it’s hard to get a read on what he’s thinking. As Jimin speeds down the highway, the street lights illuminate his face in a strange way, and for once, he looks like a stranger. His steely expression makes you nervous, for some reason.

Eventually, he asks you a question you would never have expected. “And he just let you go?”

You pause. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Jimin huffs, irritated. “He just up and left without a fight? If I were him, I would have…” he trails off, his jaw clenching.

You don’t know where this Jimin came from. Under the moonlight, Jimin looks livid, but that can’t be right. Jimin, mad for you? Sure, you’ve seen his anger directed towards you, but this? Everything’s gotten so complicated, and you are just about ready to succumb to sleep and hope to wake from this nightmare.

The rest of the drive to your house is silent, save for the sounds coming from passing cars. Jimin pulls up to your apartment complex, his mysterious anger finally subsiding.

Just as you’re about to reach for the car door handle, Jimin places a hand on your shoulder. “Listen, Y/N. I’ll talk to management tomorrow morning. I know the manager well enough that I can probably convince him to do something about that ex of yours. He’s busking on private property, so it should be easy to get rid of him,” Jimin says, tone serious. He swallows, and for a moment you think he looks a little nervous. “If that’s what you want, I guess.”

His kindness scares you. You want to tease him, ask him where Mr. Bitchy and his $2000 Chelsea boots had gone. Anything to make this air of severe sincerity to abate. This new Jimin feels suffocating. But instead, you nod your head stiffly.

Jimin makes a pained expression for a moment, but it’s quickly replaced by his usual playful smirk. He slaps you upside the head, laughing heartily at your stunned face.

“Get some rest, babe. I’ll see you tomorrow evening,” he chuckles, reaching over to open the door for you. You scramble out into the cold city air, taking one last look back at him through his window.

He rolls it down, leaning forward to flash a toothy grin at you. “Hey, stop with all the angst, pookie. Wouldn’t want my favorite toy to get sick from overthinking. Who else would I bother at work if not you?”

You snort, both endeared and irritated in equal measure. He’s right. Everything was going back to normal tomorrow, you’re sure of it. You flip him off with a cheeky grin before making your way to your apartment.

Everything is going to be okay. Jimin says he’ll do something about it, and for whatever reason, you feel like you can trust him on this. Surely good fortune was soon to be upon you.

xxx

Jimin had texted you while you were still sleeping:

Spoke to Manager Jeong about your little problem. He said he’ll deal with him.

You breathe a sigh of relief, your body feeling significantly lighter. Your sleep last night had been tumultuous and restless. You feel more tired than you did when you went to bed, but all your weariness fades once you read Jimin’s text.

Once you make it to work, you find that management has gotten rid of Jungkook somehow. Added with the fact that your landlord has promised to look into repairing your shower (no guarantees, but you want to stay optimistic), today has been significantly better compared to yesterday. You even catch yourself humming as you set up your workstation, a small smile gracing your lips.

Jimin has a later shift this evening, and you find that you are somewhat disappointed for once. Your overwhelming gratitude is surely the only reason, otherwise you would never admit to wanting to see him at any given time.

You are in the midst of texting Jimin about all the good news when your manager passes by your desk. You are quick to pocket your phone away from his prying eyes, ready to defend that you aren’t slacking off… but his demeanor does not reveal any ire. In fact, he looks rather pleased for once.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Jeong. What’s up?” you ask, suspicious. You instinctively fold your hands behind your back; it is a subconscious effort on your part to keep your distance from him. Something about your manager always gives you a bad feeling when he looks a little too happy.

He grins widely. “Everything is going splendidly, Ms. Y/N. In fact, I think today might just be our lucky day!”

Never during your time working here has his and your luck ever coincided. “Our lucky day?” you echo.

“Why, yes! I spoke with your lovely friend and coworker Jimin this morning,” he starts, and immediately your alarm bells ring. You don’t even bother correcting him about the ‘friend’ part like you normally would. He continues, “He gave me a brilliant idea about the busker who had been performing in front of the restaurant the past two days.”

You nod slowly, not quite understanding. “Yes… The busker has been quite… the spectacle,” you say carefully. Somehow, you know calling Jungkook a ‘nuisance’ would have been the wrong choice in this instance.

Manager Jeong beams. “Exactly! You must have noticed the amount of people we served yesterday despite being a Monday. Additionally, almost all of those new customers requested outdoor seating no less!”

You feel the world tilt on its axis. What is he on abou—?

“What are you talking about?” you exhale.

“Don’t you think it would be even better for business if we got that busker to perform inside the restaurant? Why, it’s a brilliant idea and I don’t know why I didn’t think of it first! Our live band has always been missing something special, and perhaps a vocal accompaniment is the exact answer to our problem! Think about it, the atmosphere would be…”

Manager Jeong continues to prattle animatedly about his plans to your unhearing ears. There must be static or cotton plugging your head because you cannot possibly understand anything he is saying. Jungkook? Inside? Performing at your restaurant? But Jimin said he had spoken to the manager about getting Jungkook away from you! None of this makes sense.

“That makes no sense,” you verbalize, unknowingly cutting Manager Jeong from his monologue. He halts in surprise, as if now just realizing you were standing there (much less capable of interrupting or disagreeing with him). When he snaps out of it, you sense that familiarly sinister aura emerging from him in waves. You belatedly realize he must have mistaken your outburst as antagonistic.

“Well, Ms. Y/N. Whether it makes sense or not, we have hired Mr. Jeon to perform live at the bar stage for the next four weeknights. If, for some unknowable reason, I am incorrect,” he pauses to emphasize his words, “then his services will be promptly terminated. However, judging by his popularity from simply standing out in the cold and singing silly love songs, I am sure that worry is unwarranted.”

Behind you, the telltale sound of the main door swinging open catches you even more off guard. You do not even have the chance to turn to face the newcomer, only managing to register the gust of cold wind that accompanies their entry.

And so, you hear him before you see him.

“Hello?” Jeon Jungkook greets quietly.

Even without turning, you can imagine how he looks, how he stands, how he feels, how he tastes—

Manager Jeong claps his hands gleefully. “Splendid timing! Speak of the devil…” The older man nearly skips towards Jungkook like a youthful school girl, accompanied by his uncharacteristic squeals of excitement.

You can feel his gaze on you, almost tangibly. With nothing but your shreds of dignity left intact, you force yourself to face him.

He’s still so tall, is all your mind can helpfully supply as you stand feet away from your high school sweetheart for the first time in two years. He’s still wearing the same bucket hat from the night before, semi-shielding him from view. Despite that, you catch a small flash of white graze his bottom lip as he chews the soft flesh nervously.

“Hi, Y/N.” He addresses you directly, completely overlooking your manager without a single glance. Despite his hat, he still has his eyes lasered on you, as if not quite believing you were there. You hate how his attention makes you shiver all the same.

Even though he ignored your manager (which would have been a major dispute had you done the same), Jungkook still receives a friendly handshake in return. “Mr. Jeon! I’m surprised you know Ms. Y/N, though I’m sure you must have spoken with her when she was escorting guests to the outdoor seating the other day.”

You had actually gotten your co-hostess to seat all the outdoor seatings yesterday, but you weren’t going to mention that.

Manager Jeong claps him on the back, inadvertently causing Jungkook to stumble forward closer to you. He looks up at you then, eyes bugging out of their sockets like a rabbit caught in a bear trap. You stagger backwards in turn, barely concealing the anxiety on your face. Oh fucking hell.

Your manager is none the wiser, of course. “Well, this makes my job much easier! Since you’re both acquainted, I’ll let Y/N show you the ropes. The band doesn’t start their set until later in the evening, but you’re free to take a look at the stage and other parts of our facility in the meantime,” he says, chuffed. Meanwhile, Jungkook looks like he’s been shot by a freeze ray.

Then, your manager points a sharper gaze at you. “Ms. Y/N, treat our super star well. I know you won’t disappoint me.”

Fucking superstar… You can only nod in defeat. “Y-Yes, sir…” you whisper, clenching your uniform with your fists. It is the only way to keep them from shaking like a leaf. You watch as his figure disappears behind his office door, leaving you to fend for yourself. Powerless, you train your gaze to the floor, unwilling to meet Jungkook’s eyes.

But the nerves are taking control of your body, screaming at you to eject, eject, eject!

“Sorry, I have to go to the toilet,” you splutter quickly, almost tripping over yourself on the way to the restroom. You dimly wonder if Jungkook is going to think you’re leaving to throw up, but you can’t find any self-respect left to care. All you need is air and space to breathe—preferably away from him.

You slam open the stall, hardly checking to see if anyone else is around before locking the door shut. You sit on the toilet, plant your face between your knees, and scream.

Should you go home and use sickness as an excuse? But even if you did, you still had shifts every weeknight. You would have to see him eventually. You can pray all you want that Jungkook will be fired by the end of the week, but even your delusional mind can never fathom the idea that anyone would willingly want to send Jeon Jungkook away. Plus, you remember that the regular band that plays at the restaurant has been wanting to get a singer to accompany them for ages, and you know just how damn affable he can be. They are going to love him, and you hate him for that.

It is clear to you that there is no other option:

You pull out your phone to quickly open up Indeed on your browser, frantically hunting for any openings that might fit your measly qualifications. However, you have to pause in your search to deliberate. Wouldn’t it be better to move out of the country? You had been so naive to think that moving cities was enough distance between you and Jungkook—going across the ocean is the obvious answer. Should you start up your Duolingo lessons again and hope that you can somehow survive in a different continent with only a few dollars to your name?

You shut your phone in despair. Whether or not your plans of escape are feasible or not, in the short term, you are stuck with having to suck it up and just learn to ignore your ex-boyfriend’s presence. Surely you can force out a fake smile or two, especially with how much practice you’ve gotten after working with unbearably entitled customers.

Taking a step outside of the restroom stall, you head to the sink to splash some cold on your face. You stare at the mirror, confronted by a girl who looks two seconds away from having a Netflix Original-esque meltdown. You rake your fingers through your hair, doing your best to look like you aren’t about to rush into incoming traffic. To no one's surprise, it doesn't work.

“Okay, I got this. Just pretend like he’s just some guy, because at the end of the day, he is just some guy,” you mutter to your reflection. She looks back at you unconvinced. “He may have broken my heart into little bite size pieces, but who cares! HE’S JUST A GUY!” You repeat the phrase over and over again like a lunatic, in a desperate attempt to cognitively alter your brain chemistry.

At that moment, one of the other stalls in the restroom creaks open, and a girl you recognize who works as one of the dishwashers walks out. You both have a silent eye conversation as she quietly studies your crazed expression and crumpled work uniform.

Eventually, she awkwardly clears her throat, pointing to the only sink in the restroom. “Uh, sorry to hear about your, uh, guy problem. Could I use the sink please?”

You hastily back away, allowing her to take your spot. You don’t even have the energy to apologize for your spectacle, just bowing sheepishly to her before making your way back to the main hall. If she rats you out to the rest of your coworkers, then that gives you another reason to move out of the country. Maybe you should consider a name change while you’re at it.

When you exit the restroom, you half expect Jungkook to be waiting for you by the door, but find that he isn’t anywhere nearby. He isn’t by your hostess station either, and you thank your lucky stars for once. Even if your manager had asked you to show him around, you’re sure that Jungkook can find his way around just fine. Plus, the stage is at the corner of the restaurant and is sufficiently far enough that you wouldn’t have to make eye contact with him if you were careful.

You don’t know which greater entity has been messing with your sanity these past few days, but you hope that they can show you mercy just once—a brief reprieve, if anything.

You clasp your hands in prayer. I’ll eat more vegetables, I’ll remember to floss, I’ll call my parents from time to time… Just please let me survive tonight.

“Remember, Y/N… He’s just some guy,” you reiterate through gritted teeth. If a passing coworker happens to overhear your demented chanting, then you pay them no mind.

You walk towards the entrance, flipping the sign to open. You feel like a video game character when you glance at the clock, which signals the start of your shift. You can imagine the red bold text hovering above your head: 8 more hours until freedom.

This is just like playing Five Nights at Freddy’s, except you’ve only watched the movie and you suspect your life is probably worse than whatever Josh Hutcherson had to survive through.

You take a couple heaving breaths to brace yourself for what will be the longest eight hours of your life. You’ll show Jungkook just how well-adjusted and mature you’ve become. You are a professional, and not even a boy with angelic vocals will make you crumble. After all, what’s the worst he can do?

xxx

He could, in fact, do a lot worse than you thought.

“I have many regrets being born at all,” you mutter bleakly, three hours into your shift.

Jungkook had started singing only an hour ago, so you had been filled with false confidence at first when the restaurant was filled with nothing but ambient chatter and soothing jazz music. You felt more and more confident as the minutes ticked by and your anxiety slowly melted away. You even forgot that he was somewhere in the back, likely warming up or whatever it is that singers did before a performance.

However, your brief moment of courage shatters almost immediately when Jungkook finally takes the stage.

At first, you did your best to tune out his voice, but it’s especially hard when whoever was in charge of the sound system decided to crank his volume to an excruciating level. You wanted desperately to grab some napkins and shove them in your ears, but you suspected that your customers (and manager) would be unappreciative of that gesture. And so there you lay, forced to wallow in Jungkook’s melodious singing like a criminal strapped to an electric chair.

But how much more pleasant an electric chair would be! Why on earth was Jungkook so adamant to sing sad love songs the entire time? Why couldn’t he be like his other singing contemporaries, who loved to write songs about getting bitches and making money? At the very least, even if he wasn’t quite a platinum selling artist just yet, surely he was constantly sharing beds with anyone he pleases? Couldn’t he sing about that?!

(In the back of your mind, you wonder if it would be less painful to learn that Jungkook has slept with multiple people… Because then, it would mean that he had moved on while you stood alone on your island, stranded and yearning.)

You didn’t want to think too deeply about his lyrics. However, you're only human. So when your mind barrier failed and you caught snippets of his singing, you noticed a pattern. There was always a girl in his songs. She was omnipresent, and Jungkook was always pleading for her. Begging and aching and wanting. But most all… he was always repenting. In every song, he always whispered a pious apology.

You feared what would happen if you turned around in those moments of weakness. You were terrified of admitting something, of letting words spill that had been trapped in your throat for the better part of two years.

Lucky for you, salvation comes in the form of one Park Jimin. Though, can you even count him as your savior when he had also inadvertently caused your demise?

Jimin doesn’t even have a shift today, so you’re more than surprised when his bright blonde head stumbles through the restaurant doors. His expensive coat is askew and his signature designer shades are nowhere to be found. He is panic incarnate—an expression you have never seen on his face before.

“Holy fuck,” he greets, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath. His profanity startles the elderly couple waiting to be seated, their glares menacingly sharp. To his credit, Jimin doesn’t even seem phased.

In lieu of an answer, you gesture vaguely behind you. You can imagine how dejected you must look. “Holy fuck indeed,” you sigh.

It takes a moment for Jimin to regain his bearings. He straightens up and pats down his coat, but his hair is still tousled by the wind. If not for the fact that he has a car, you might have thought he had run all the way here.

“I am so sorry. I didn’t know this was going to happen,” he starts, genuinely remorseful. “I texted Manager Jeong this morning and he said he’d get your ex to leave, but I didn’t think he’d offer the damn bastard a job!”

“Mind your language, Park. I’m still at work,” you scold. You try your best to ignore the scrutinizing gaze of the elderly couple. You lower your voice. “And don’t apologize. I know you’re an asshole, but I doubt you’d actually prey on my downfall like this. I know you’re not into public humiliation.”

Jimin brightens slightly at your joke, but he still looks like a guilty puppy who'd been caught shitting on the carpet. “Yeah, well. I happen to enjoy tormenting you and I won’t let some upstart Charlie Puth wannabe ruin your life. That’s my job.”

You smile wryly at him. “Well, that’s too bad. Jungkook’s been singing for a few hours now and I’m pretty sure Manager Jeong is going to keep him long-term. He might have broken my heart, but damn does he have vocals. I'm sure you'll have plenty competition when it comes to 'who can make Y/N's life feel like hell.'”

Jimin doesn't smile back, but instead studies your face for a moment. Then:

“Do you think if I offer to suck Manager Jeong off, he’ll fire him?”

“What the fuck?” You nearly yell out in surprise, your jaw dropping to the floor. Judging by his serious scowl, you know he's actually considering it. By now, the elderly couple waiting to be seated have left the premises.

Jimin continues, unperturbed. “I know he secretly wants me, based on how his wife seems to have a personal vendetta against me. He definitely wants a taste of my bus—.”

“Stop, I get it!” You wave your hands to make him shut up, heat rising up your cheeks. “Never say that string of words to me ever again. You have just inflicted ten years of suffering onto my poor brain.”

“Hey, I’m just offering solutions here!” Jimin pouts.

You stare at him, unimpressed. “Save it. You tried solving my problems already, so let’s just accept the fact that there’s nothing else for me to do but to suck it up. It’s time for me to put on my big girl pants for a change.”

“I mean, I could do all the sucking instead, but you’re being a little bitch about it,” Jimin mumbles. He’s lucky you didn’t hear him this time, lest you give him something to really whine about.

“Anyway, I guess this is my life now. Nothing to do except hope that he never tries to interact with me or I can find another job,” you shrug.

Over your shoulder, Jimin fixes Jungkook with an icy glare that is cold enough to give you the shivers. For the first time that entire night, you hazard a glance back at the stage, finding that Jungkook is already looking back at you.

You whip your head back forward, perspiration forming down your back. For fuck’s sake, this guy.

“Well, let me know if he tries anything. I’ll beat that little freak into the floor if he tries so much as breathing the same air as you.” Jimin huffs, puffing up his chest with false bravado. You can’t help but laugh at his empty threat, knowing that Jungkook could probably bench press Jimin without breaking a sweat. Jimin's muscles are only for aesthetics, after all.

“Don’t worry, he hasn’t actually spoken to me actually. He can keep singing his sad little love songs, I really don’t mind,” you say, like a liar. Jimin snorts, wholly unconvinced.

“Well, if you need me, I’m heading to the bar to grab a drink so I can stare at your ex uncomfortably until he leaves. See you!” Jimin bids you farewell with a cheery grin as he skips a little too happily inside the restaurant.

Why'd you have to befriend the largest lunatic in the city? You massage your forehead with a groan, willing away your growing headache.

The rest of the night trickles away like molasses. Jungkook continues to sing his heart out, save for an hour intermission where he presumably takes a short break. In his absence, you hear Jimin guffaw loudly, his laughter too sharp to be considered happy. You faintly hear Jungkook shy stutters in response, and you momentarily consider running in to interrupt.

Why? Did you want to save Jungkook from Jimin’s unnecessary harassment? It’s not like Jimin is doing it out nowhere, he was just trying to be… a good friend?

You pause to ponder. As much as you hate to admit it, you know why you want to help Jungkook. But Jimin on the other hand? Why did he want to help you? Questions begin flowing through your head like a whirlwind, and your nausea increases. God, when was your next therapy appointment again?

You save those questions for another day. As you look at your watch, there are only thirty minutes left until two in the morning. You tap your foot impatiently, smiling curtly at departing customers as the restaurant slowly emptied. As they left, you overhear some of your regulars giggling amongst themselves, whispering about the cute new singer and his charming demeanor.

The last nail on your coffin has been hammered. Yeah, Jungkook isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

With the restaurant closing soon, it sounds like Jungkook is ready to end his set as well.

Throughout the night, Jungkook rarely made a point to speak. The only time he didn’t sing was when he quietly introduced the title of his next song and the band swiftly began the first opening notes. For his last song, however, Jungkook decided to give a little more backstory for his final song.

“Hello, everyone. Thank you so much for listening to me for the night,” Jungkook says with a soft voice, his tone awfully shy despite his powerful belting throughout the evening. The few customers left give him a warm round of applause, and you hear the familiar sound of his timid giggles spill from the restaurant speakers.

“This will be my final song for the night. Most of the songs I sang today were covers, but this one is an original. I…” He hesitates for a moment, and something pulls you to turn despite the alarm bells ringing in your ears. You face him, and just like earlier in the evening, he is already looking back at you.

This time, you don’t look away; he does. His eyes flit to the ceiling, and he licks his lips from nerves. “I… I wrote this song a long while ago. I’ve never sang it in public before and I never thought it would ever see the light of day. Until, well…”

He stops again. This time, he gestures to the guitarist in the band, silently asking to borrow it. With a guitar in hand, he smiles a little more confidently at the small crowd of people. He begins strumming the first few notes, and your heart stops. “I hope everyone had a pleasant evening. Get home safe and have a great rest of your week. My name is Jungkook, and this last song is called…”

Before he can sing the first line of his song, you make a break for it.

You slam the restaurant doors open, and the stinging cold air immediately pierces their fangs into your skin. Your coat is still inside, but you can’t bring yourself to reenter. You take a long breath, the chill barely registering in your mind with how loudly your heart is pounding in your ears.

Hearing the opening to that song was enough to bring you back in time, three years ago:

You are in his childhood bedroom, his walls littered with concert posters and his floor a mess with unfolded laundry and guitar picks. The afternoon sun is streaming through his windows, bathing him in gold. You have an exam the next day and he has cram school to go to, but you’ve both chucked your books somewhere on his desk, left forgotten.

He has his eyes closed, concentrated. You’re both on his small twin bed, squished together side by side and thighs touching. You have your head on his shoulder and he has his hands on his guitar. He strums a few chords experimentally and sings a melody that only the two of you know.

(Not anymore.)

“Are you writing a new song?” you ask, voice a little scratchy. Neither of you had spoken for the past few hours, just basking in the setting sun and Jungkook’s indistinct strumming. But now, his chords sound more sure, more certain of something.

“Yeah, I just thought of it,” he hums. He opens his eyes a smidge, a smitten smile on his lips. You mirror him.

“What’s it about this time?”

His brows furrow. “I’ve been trying to write about other stuff, you know? Namjoon-hyung tells me it’s important that songs have meaning and impact.” He pauses in his strumming, looking a little conflicted. “And I get what he means. Art is all about saying something, but… I can’t help that there’s only one thing I ever want to talk about. Is that so wrong?”

You chuckle, understanding what he means. You nudge your head against his cheek, grinning from ear to ear. The fluttering in your chest has become routine to you at this point, but he somehow always knows how to increase it tenfold. “God, you’re such a sweet talker. Really, Koo. There’s no need to serenade with love songs—I’m already yours.”

He looks back at you, brimming with tender affection. “I know,” he responds. Then, he takes a pen from his bedside table, and begins writing.

During those years of dating him, you always thought that If he was a waterfall, then you were a teaspoon. You desperately tried to be enough for him, but you’re barely able to fathom the depth of his devotion. Everything about him was excessive, and you could seldom understand how he managed to contain himself. He was born to share himself, to tear bits of his soul so that the world may understand him, love him. His songs were a testament that he was trying to do that, and you always felt so lucky to be able to receive him, wholly and fully.

How cruel was it that Jungkook uses that same song to rip open the barely healed scab on your heart, leaving you bare and stinging and raw all over again.

You have no idea how long you've stood there in the cold. It must have been barely a few minutes when Jimin finds his way to you. He wordlessly shrugs his coat off and places it on your shoulders, but you make no move to acknowledge him.

You hope your silence is enough for Jimin to infer that you are not in a conversational mood, but he’s nothing if not impatient. He forcibly pulls you to face him, his hands warm even through your clothing.

“Hey, you good? Did something happen?” He asks with barely concealed irritation, but it’s not directed at you. Still, you flinch at his scathing tone, shrinking in on yourself. In your daze, you vaguely notice his resemblance to an angry baby chick.

“It’s nothing. Go back inside, I’ll be right there,” you mumble lamely, weakly pushing him back towards the restaurant. Jimin does not budge, instead leveling you with a hard stare. This time, you’re sure his irritation is for you.

“You idiot, you literally ran out like someone was out to get you. Of course it’s not nothing,” he grouses.

You sigh tiredly, shaking your head at him. “We can talk later. It’s almost closing time and I just want to go home and sleep.”

Before Jimin can argue further, the door to the restaurant opens once more, but it isn’t a leaving customer.

“What the fuck? What are you doing out here?” Jimin all but shouts at Jungkook. He holds up an accusatory finger at him and uses his other hand to nudge you behind him as if to shield you.

Jungkook winces, instinctively stepping back. Despite being a few inches taller than Jimin, Jungkook’s timidness makes him look smaller. “I… I was just worried about her—”

“Don’t you have a song to finish in there? Talk about professional,” Jimin spits out. Jimin maneuvers you so that Jungkook can’t see you, but you manage to catch sight of how his gaze follows you unfailingly.

“I finished up my set. It’s closing time.” Jungkook responds coolly. He’s still a little quiet, but you can sense some of his natural composure rising to the surface. When he needs to be, Jungkook has been known to stand his ground—usually when it comes to matters involving you.

At this time of the night and after hours of mental torture, the last thing you need is to watch your two worst nightmares duke it out in front of your work establishment. You are beyond exhausted, and you hardly have the fortitude to withstand another minute of their voices ringing in your ears.

Your eyes well up with tears of frustration, causing the two boys to freeze up in panic. You don’t give them the chance to fuss over you; instead, you haphazardly wipe your cheeks before roughly pushing them back towards the restaurant.

“Get back to work, you idiots.” Your voice sounds warbled even to your own ears, but you push past your overwhelming emotions in favor of getting back inside to close up. Hell, you might even call in sick tomorrow, just so you can cry pathetically into your bowl of cereal in solitude.

“I’m not even on the clock today!” Jimin complains faintly, but you only push him harder.

When you all reenter, you walk back to your desk and pointedly ignore the two of them until they awkwardly float away from your orbit. Despite the distance they give you, their gazes are still fixed plainly on you and they feel like knives digging into your back.

Eventually, all the final customers of the day take their leave, and your remaining coworkers start dimming the lights and bidding their goodbyes. From the corner of your eye, you see Jungkook bowing respectfully to the band, who were giving him friendly pats on the back for a job well done. Jimin walks toward you, his car keys dangling from his left pinky.

“No thanks. I’ll take the bus home today,” you declare before he can offer a ride. Jimin opens his mouth like a goldfish, flapping his lips dumbly as he stares at you in shock. You have no idea why he’s so surprised, given how you’ve been making it obvious that you need some space.

He looks like he wants to argue again, but thinks better of it. A singular moment of restraint from Park Jimin, which is an act you once thought impossible. Maybe he does care about you more than you thought.

He stiffly nods at you, shoving his hands and keys into his pockets. He still has a frown on his face when he tells you to text him when you get home. You flip him off with a shaky smirk in response, a feeble attempt to bring some levity back to your now tense relationship. It works a little, and Jimin brightens up significantly. How simple-minded of him.

With a flippant wave, you leave work and head towards your bus stop. At this hour of the night, the streets are mostly dim, save for some street lamps and bars that stay open longer than your restaurant. There are always some people milling about, enough that you never feel too on edge about how late it is. Still, your bus stop is often empty, leaving you to mull over your thoughts in peace.

You are in the midst of jamming your earbuds into your ear when a presence makes itself known beside you.

Is it possible to go through the five stages of grief in under a second? You suppose not, but it’s hard to tell what sort of emotions swim through you when you come face to face with Jeon Jungkook again.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you mutter under your breath. You pause the song playing on your phone to glare at him with as much venom as you can muster.

Jungkook holds up his hands in surrender, doe eyes wide like prey. “I-I’m heading home too! I’m not following you, I swear!”

You groan internally. Figures that you and Jungkook take the same bus home. But hold on— “Don’t you have a car? I remember you were parked near the restaurant the other night,” you note, squinting at him.

Jungkook looks sheepish as he rubs the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah. That car was my hyung’s. He lets me borrow it sometimes, but he needed it tonight.”

“Sure…” You level him with a skeptical frown. You remember his hyung, but don’t recall him ever owning a car. You aren’t even sure that his Namjoon-hyung is allowed by the country to drive a car, much less own one.

He could be lying, but you don’t want to give him an excuse to continue any conversation. So, you busy yourself with your phone and keep your head bowed away from him.

When the bus arrives, Jungkook makes it a point to sit a few rows behind you. Thankfully, he has a better understanding of social cues than a certain Park that you know. He leaves you alone, but your entire body still feels like a rope pulled taut. You have to convince yourself not to look behind you, your morbid curiosity scratching your insides raw.

You are in the home stretch now, and it’ll only be a few more minutes before you get to your stop and make your way to your safe haven. Hell resumes the next day and the next, but at the very least you’ll have your home to yourself. No one could take that away from you.

Again, this is where you learn that tempting fate is never a good idea.

When you exit the bus at your stop, you can hear his footsteps following you. It’s hard not to notice, especially when his large and distracting boots make such a distinct racket that makes him so Jungkook.

You hasten your pace towards your apartment complex, your shoulders hunched and hands shoved into your coat pockets in an attempt to hinder the bile rising from your stomach. He had promised that he wasn’t following you, but that proclamation seems to be standing on feeble legs with how long he’s been on your tail now.

Your street is filled with rows of low-rise apartment buildings, so you hope that if anything happens, you can yell as loud as you can and alert some compassionate neighbor to come to your aid. (Not that you think he would ever physically harm you, but… You can’t say the same about your mental state.)

Your home is just two buildings away from where you are, but Jungkook still seems determined to follow you to the end. You all but skip the remaining feet to your apartment entrance, your breath coming out in puffs as you finally muster up the courage to face your supposed stalker and give him a piece of your mind.

“If this is some convoluted way for you to find out where I live, then you aren’t being very subtle about it,” you say, your chin held up high despite the growing urge to vomit pathetically in front of your ex-boyfriend. You have your hand rested on the doorknob, just a moment’s notice away from bolting into your house if the need for a quick getaway arises.

To your surprise, Jungkook wasn’t following you as closely as you expected. He had stopped trailing you about two buildings down, his own hand poised on the door with a look of genuine shock.

You both stand there, staring at each other as mutual understanding dawns on the two of you.

Everyday, the universe learns of more creative ways to be cruel.

“Oh…” Jungkook’s voice falters. He looks simultaneously frightened and amazed, as if he too finds this entire situation unbelievably harsh. He swallows thickly, looking at you and back to his door in quick succession. “Well… This is a strange coincidence,” he murmurs.

You want to believe that this was his entire fault, that Jungkook had somehow managed to track you down to haunt you for the rest of your days. You want to believe that he’s a crazed stalker who is willing to find where you work and live so that every hour of your wretched life is filled with nothing but reminders of what-could-have-beens. You just want someone to blame instead of just the cosmos—you want someone tangible to hate so that your suffering can be given some sort of identity. You want to give your mourning and hurt a name so that you can learn how to heal.

You want to believe all of that, but it’s hard to do so when Jungkook looks so incredibly uncomfortable, as if he’d rather melt into the shadows and never be seen again.

In all your memories, you have never seen Jungkook look so small.

You heave a big sigh, your fingers grasping the door knob so tightly that you half-expect it to be dented from the force. You linger for a moment, your mouth opening but nothing spills out.

What is there to say? What do you say to an ex-boyfriend that you haven’t seen in two years, who is suddenly so deeply entwined in your life once more? Do you tell him goodnight? Tell him to stay away? Tell him to come home with you?

Jungkook looks equally as conflicted. His lips are pursed tight with words left unsaid. You aren’t sure whether you want to punch the confession out of his mouth or seal them up forever. It feels like eons before he finally breaks the silence with a mirthless laugh.

“I… I just wanted to say—back at the restaurant. When I sang that last song,” Jungkook begins, and his voice feels loud because of how empty the streets are. For a moment, you are reminded of a cathedral you once visited during a vacation, how sacred silence can be. The world holds its breath, waiting for him to speak.

“I meant it all. Every word. Every lyric. I never stopped…”

He trails off, shrugging his shoulders. He stares at you helplessly, but you don’t know what to say. You don’t want to listen any more, but your feet are planted to the ground. You’re frozen like a deer in headlights, forced to brace against him as he crashes into you.

He continues, “And when we broke up back then… I never wanted that to happen. You broke it off before we could even try something—and I hated how I didn’t fight for you harder. I let you misunderstand me because I was afraid you wouldn’t want to stick around if I didn’t succeed. I convinced myself that I was holding you down, but I never gave you—us—a chance. I never stopped regretting it since.”

“Me? Break up with you?” You echo incredulously. That statement is enough to break you from your trance, the telltale signs of indignation rising up your chest. “How dare you suggest—Me? You were the one who broke up with me, asshole! You were the one who broke my heart and decided to up and leave to god knows where! Only to miraculously respawn right next to me, groveling at my feet with sad love songs as if that’s enough for me to forgive and forget? Fucking entitled bastard,” you seethe.

Somehow, Jungkook manages to shrink more, like a bunny with his tail tucked between his legs. “Yes, you’re right that I broke your heart but… When I told you I was moving away to try and become a singer, it was always with the intention of staying together. I know it would have been difficult, but I wanted you to be with me through thick and thin. But when you misunderstood and took it as a break up, I let you go because, well… I was scared that it would happen eventually. Who wants to date a broke busking fool anyway?”

He laughs, but it sounds watery. He sniffles, and you hope it's only because of the cold. “I tried looking for you, but you blocked me everywhere and no one from back home seemed to know where you went. So I just accepted that we’d never see each other again… Until a few days ago, that is.”

A misunderstanding? Is that what everything boils down to? Years of trying to build yourself back up again, relearning what it means to be happy—all the fallen domino pieces in your life trailing back to a single moment in time? All because Jungkook was scared that you didn't love him enough?

You’ve never felt angrier in your life. You fear what you might say if you continue to stand outside there, face to face with the singular person strong enough to whittle you down to the bone. Jeon Jungkook is all soft smiles and sweet songs, but how come he’s always able to knock you off your axis? Few people on this earth can stitch you up and break you down in equal measure, but somehow, Jungkook manages to do all that and more.

Then, comes the guilt. Had it been all your fault? That you hadn't returned his love in equal measure? Had you secretly given up on the hope of being on his level? Always looking down on yourself: unable to move past your insecurities. Were you terrified of being his side piece, his girlfriend, forever?

Who are you, even? And where do you stand?

(Beside him, is what you want to answer. You don't know if that's the right choice.)

You can’t bear to look at him, least of all answer him. Without another word, you shove your house key into the door before slamming it shut despite the late hour. If you awaken any neighbors, you’ll apologize later. For now, all you require is sleep and hope that this has been all a terrible nightmare.

xxx

Reality is a bitter pill to swallow.

Jeon Jungkook continues to sing at the restaurant, and after only two days of repeat stellar performances, your manager decides to promote him as the official vocalist for the band. It hurts to admit that you're not the least bit surprised; you might have a hard time looking at him, but you can never deny his talent.

His song list has added a larger variety of genres ever since his first performance. That is to say, he isn’t always singing about lost loves and tragic couples every night. Perhaps it is due to some requests from customers or his other bandmates, but it doesn’t stop him from sprinkling one or two love songs into the mix.

He doesn’t sing any original songs ever again. That, at least, is a small mercy. He doesn’t make any moves to speak with you either, despite the daily awkward trips back home after the end of your shifts. Whether that’s because he’s given up on you (again), or he’s waiting for you to make the first move, you don’t know. Frankly, you don’t think you have the energy (nor courage) to do anything about it.

It’s a few weeks after Jungkook’s first performance at the restaurant, and closing time is approaching. You appreciate Friday nights the most because it means you’ll have two consecutive days to relax and avoid your problems. It’s also the busiest night of the week, when white-collar workers decide to drink and eat for as long as the night allows them. Busier nights mean more distractions, and you’re willing to deal with twenty Karens over one Jungkook.

During nights like these, your manager occasionally asks you to fulfill some waitress duties when there aren’t enough hands on deck. Normally you’d hate it, but earning the extra tips is enough to keep your grumbling to a minimum To this day, your landlord has yet to do anything about your broken shower, and you’ve finally conceded to the fact that you’ll have to be the one to do something about it.

As you inform the customers in your area that the last call for orders is approaching, you sneak a glance at the bar to see Jimin dutifully performing his job. That is to say, he’s flirting up a storm, getting women and men alike to blush from head to toe as he serves their drinks with a salacious smirk.

What a swindler, you think to yourself, snorting when he makes eye contact with you. He gives you a cheeky salute, mouthing something as he gestures to the back door.

Despite the semi-fight the two of you had all those weeks ago, Jimin was never one to argue about the same topic two days in a row. When you saw him the next day after your confrontation with Jungkook, Jimin was back to all smiles. You still catch him sending death glares towards Jungkook on most nights, but he doesn’t bring up the matter with you anymore. For that reason, you’ve gratefully settled back into your weird, banterful friendship with him. Even if there’s still a lingering tension between the two of you that you refuse to acknowledge.

You nod thankfully back at him, excited to go to his house and take a much needed shower. At this point, going to his house has become second nature to you, and it gives you an excuse to not see Jungkook at your regular bus stop every day. You have half a mind to never fix your shower for that reason, but of course there is still the problem of having to deal with Jimin every time you need to bathe. You hardly consider yourself an impatient person, but Jimin likes to toe the line far more often than necessary.

You’re down to your last two tables before you can close up shop when your manager suddenly barrels right into your path. You nearly drop your tray of dirty dishes to the floor, holding in a loud yelp as your suspiciously stern-faced manager halts you in place.

“Ms. Y/N, may I have a word with you for a moment? It’s regarding your paycheck for the month,” he barks, lips downturned. He appears disgruntled about something, and it sends a worried shiver down your spine. And here you thought Fridays are meant to be fun. He doesn’t wait for you to reply before he stalks back to his office, an unspoken command for you to follow.

You unload your dishes in the kitchen before making your way to his office. The small, dark room is cramped with overflowing file folders and coupons from multiple take-out places. You accidentally step on a stack of papers, and upon further inspection, seem to be a pile of applications for new hires. You distinctly remember complaining to him months prior about being understaffed and him replying that no inquiries were coming in.

As you approach, your manager shuffles through your coworkers pay stubs, and you notice yours and Jungkook’s on top of the piles.

Manager Jeong clears his throat. “Well, Y/N. It seems to be your lucky day. As you know, we split the tips based on your hours and what sort of duties you fulfill. With the new hire we have as our in-house singer, we’ve had to split it one way more to accommodate his arrival. However, he has recently requested to me that his portion be reallocated… to you, Ms. Y/N.”

Your jaw drops immediately. “I-I don’t understand, Manager Jeong,” you sputter.

Manager Jeong snorts, bemused by your reaction. “Don’t understand? Well, I suppose you’ll have to ask Mr. Jeon if you want his reasoning. Regardless, since we normally deposit your salary straight to your bank account, would it be alright if I hand you his tips in cash for now? He only informed me about his request an hour ago, and the accountant has already clocked out for the week.”

All you can do is nod dumbly back at him. With a huff, your manager presses a white envelope into your hands before promptly ushering you out of his office. “Well, that's settled. Out you go! Have a good weekend, Ms. Y/N. Don’t forget to lock the register before you leave!” He calls out before slamming his door in your face.

It takes you a moment to reanimate back to life. You stare at the white envelope for a long while, unable to fathom the scribbled out name of Jeon Jungkook replaced with your own name. Then, you crumple it into your fist before stomping over to where Jungkook and the rest of the band are in the middle of packing it up for the night.

Jungkook looks up from his guitar case when he senses you fast approaching. For a fleeting second, a smile graces his handsome face before it’s smacked away by your crumpled envelope.

“Keep your fucking cash, Jungkook. What the hell is your problem?” You fume, cheeks heating from agitation. Jungkook splutters for a moment, prying the envelope away from his face and looking at it in bewilderment. When he sees it clearly, recognition dawns on his face, followed by guilt.

“It’s just… my way of saying sorry, I guess.” He answers you meekly, neck flushing red in embarrassment. Behind him, the rest of the band grow silent at the scene before them, and you debate on telling them to mind their own business when they quicken their pace to leave.

“Well, keep your apology to yourself. There’s nothing to apologize for,” you correct him with a frown. To offer an apology is to offer accountability. You aren’t sure if you’re ready to hear him say that.

“No, it’s a sorry for… using you, I suppose.”

“Using me?” You repeat, dumbfounded. “For what?”

Jungkook smiles wryly back at you. “For inspiration?” he clarifies. For being the reason I can sing? He leaves that part unsaid, but you can almost imagine him saying it.

You feel heat rising to your cheeks again, but this time you aren’t quite sure if it’s from embarrassment, anger… or something else.

Unable to conjure up a response to his simple confession, you stomp away from him with a pounding heart and shaking hands. You continue the rest of your closing shift routine instinctually, your body moving on autopilot as Jungkook’s words continue to ring inside your head. When all is said and done, Jimin makes his way to your station with a questioning stare, but you wave him off in favor of stomping ahead of him to the parking lot.

In his car, Jimin rattles off about his latest exploits and purchases, his grating voice a comfort for once. You hum noncommittally during his stories when appropriate, but you suppose your usual indifference feels different, even to Jimin's untrained ears.

At his house, you drift to his bathroom immediately. You already have a shirt button undone by the time you get a handle on the door when Jimin’s hand stops you in place. You can feel his warmth emanating against your back as he slowly pulls the bathroom door close. With a tired sigh, you reluctantly turn to face him and find him standing closer than you expected.

He has an arm resting above your head, effectively caging you. You feel your shoulders sag. Damn, here comes another confrontation. Why can’t everyone just leave you alone?!

“Talk to me,” he says. No, he demands.

You push him away weakly, but he hardly budges. “Nothing to talk about,” you lie. Had you no filter, you’d be word vomiting all over the place ages ago.

Jimin groans, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “Enough with the emotional constipation. I’m here to listen, alright? No teasing or anything, I’m all ears and maybe a shoulder to cry on. Just don’t stain my Chanel top too bad,” he jokes.

You puff out a short breath—a sorry excuse for a laugh. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want to talk about it, and that’s that.”

“It’ll make you feel a lot better, though,” he offers.

You scoff. “What makes you think that? What if I just want to ignore all my problems forever and never grow from it? Is that so bad?”

Jimin pushes himself away from you, raising his hands in mock defeat. “You’re so fucking annoying. Can you stop running away from your problems and talk to me? Hell, talk to Jungkook for all I care! Just stop being a doormat and speak your mind for once in your damn life!”

“What are you, my therapist?” You brush past him, shower all but forgotten. You begin toeing your shoes back on, ready to head home tired and smelly. At the very least, you won’t have to deal with this stupid annoying asshole any longer.

Jimin strides back towards you, but for once he doesn’t do anything to forcibly stop you. Jimin has always been gruff with you, not afraid to push and pull you in any which direction. It’s part of the reason why you can’t take him seriously, even though you’ve recently realized why he was always being such a prick towards you—

“Yeah, I’m not your therapist. But for better or for worse, I’m your friend and I—I fucking care about you, alright? And it sucks seeing that good-for-nothing stick his nose in your business and act like he can do anything without any repercussions.”

Is Jimin being for real right now? “With how often you look at yourself in the mirror, you’d think you’d be better at introspection,” is all you say to that. You shove your feet into your shoes, not caring that you’ve probably put them on wrong. Maybe it’s because it’s Friday and the fatigue from the week has finally settled deep in your bones, but you can’t help but leave one last scathing remark to drive the final nail in the coffin.

“You know, if you were a little nicer to me, maybe I would talk to you. Hell, maybe I’d like you back. But no, just keep being your domineering, asshole self and I’ll keep being the same fucking doormat bitch you know and love,” you spit, turning towards the door and away from his face. You’re not even curious to see how he reacts. “I don’t need protection, alright? When I tell you to stay out of my business, you stay out of it. So don’t try and pretend to be my knight in shining armor.”

There’s an ocean of silence, enough to hear a pin drop. The urge to apologize surges to the surface, but you stamp it down. He’s petty all the time, so now it’s your turn.

Okay, maybe that’s a little too mean on your part, but you’re exhausted. Perhaps it is true when they say you should never act on your anger when it’s past midnight. But can anyone blame you? You’re only a girl, and girls need to snap too.

When he responds, his voice sounds weak. Park Jimin, weak? It's almost unthinkable. "Why don't you trust me?"

Isn't it obvious? you want to say. But some mercy remains within you. You'll pick up the pieces another time. Instead, you rasp out, “Good night, Park. I’ll see you on Monday.”

The walk of shame back to your house is long and arduous. Your phone dings thrice, likely signaling texts from Jimin, but you turn it off without checking for sure. For once, the weight on your shoulders is slightly lighter. You huff out a dry laugh, realizing belatedly that maybe Jimin is right—maybe speaking your mind has its benefits.

There’s a small park in your neighborhood that you always pass by. You don’t remember the last time you spared it a second glance, but this time you notice a lone figure swinging back and forth, arching dangerously higher than what you would consider safe. From a distance, all you can make out are the person’s comically bright boots, and you have a sinking suspicion you know who it is without seeing their face.

Cosmos, or whoever it is that controls my life, why must you braid our strings of fate so tightly? You ask, but as always, it refuses to reply.

Against your better judgment, your feet bring you closer towards him. He has his back towards you, his feet pumping him higher and higher and you half expect him to swing in a perfect arc like a gymnast on parallel bars. You have to keep your distance a bit, lest you get the wind knocked out of you by his signature stompers.

You clear your throat, and the boy stops mid-swing and nearly catapults himself into the spongey, playground floor. Hunched over and wheezing, Jungkook directs his shocked eyes at you with a comical stare.

You raise a hand in greeting. A peace offering, maybe. “Hello—”

“I swear I’m not stalking you!” Jungkook interrupts as he scrambles to his feet. He bows deeply in remorse, the action so endearingly him. “S-sorry, I’ll make my way home now…”

“I don’t own the park, Jungkook. I was just saying hello…” You snort, wringing your hands uncomfortably. You grind your shoes into the ground, the sound of crunching leaves breaking the still air. “A-and… to say sorry, for earlier.”

“Sorry?” Jungkook repeats, confused. When he realizes what you mean, he waves his hands frantically. “No, no! Don’t be sorry! It was my fault for being so inconsiderate. I understand how you might misconstrue my actions, and I made things more awkward. I’ll consider your feelings more in the future…”

In the future… You cough, unwilling to meet his bright and honest gaze. If you stare too long, you fear you might go blind.

“I come here to the park often, when I feel too cramped inside my apartment,” Jungkook explains, frantic energy radiating off him in waves. He’s gesticulating too much, a clear sign that he’s trying to hide his nerves. You remember how he would do the same thing in high school, whenever he had to present his projects in front of the class.

You hold a hand up, a weak attempt to get him to calm down. “I’m not here to interrogate you. I just wanted to…” What is it that you wanted to do?

The two of you just stand awkwardly like that, similar to a few weeks ago when you discovered you were neighbors. You’re grasping at straws in your head, both conflicted for wanting to tell him something and running away. Even if you were to talk to him, what would you say? There’s a reason you told Jimin you didn’t want to talk—frankly, it’s mostly because you have no idea what to say or feel.

But you do know, the universe responds.

I ask you questions all the time, and this is how you respond?

Either that, or you’re going insane, the universe remarks.

Jungkook pulls out his phone, his fingers fumbling as he unlocks it. He takes a furtive step towards you, but thinks better of it. There’s a few feet of distance between you, but it feels like worlds apart. Close and yet so far. You recall how you’d easily pull him towards you in the past, how being together felt as natural as breathing.

“I know you absolutely hated it the last time I played my original song at the restaurant, so I refrained from performing any ever since that night. But that didn’t stop me from writing them. I was fine with keeping them locked in a vault forever, but…” He hesitates, searching you for any signs of discomfort. When he sees the carefully blank look on your face, he continues with trepidation.

“Can I try a song for you? You don’t have to say yes, and you’re free to tell me to fuck off and I’ll never even look at you ever again. Just…” He flails one last time, a choked sob making its escape from his throat.

Are you hopeless for wanting to say yes? Or were you reverting back to your old self who relied on him and believed in him so heavily? If you wanted him out of your life for good, you would have quit your job at the first sight of him. Maybe you were masochistic. Or maybe were you hopeful for a new start, a chance to rekindle a relationship that you’ve secretly always wanted to repair.

You have so much life ahead of you. Many more mistakes will be made and maybe they’ll haunt you when you’re older. But would it really be such a terrible gamble to take one more chance?

You nod, and seal your fate.

He presses play, and the soft strumming of a guitar fills the empty playground air.

Not for the first time, you wonder how it can be so easy for Jungkook to be so… honest. He spills his heart in every song that he writes, and you know he’s never been a great liar. He can’t help it, being genuine is in his DNA. This crashing waterfall, this boy with overflowing emotions—he sings what he thinks but feels terrified because of it. You might not understand his honesty, but you know that fear. You know it all too well.

He beholds himself to you—raw and unfiltered. A little battered and bruised, but still Jungkook. Behind everything, still the boy you’ve been yearning for.

Maybe this song is what will give you enough confidence to admit everything to him, too. As you stand there, listening to his mellow voice sing confessions to no one but you and the stars, you think you grow a little more courageous that day.

Maybe you won’t be able to tell him tonight. Maybe not tomorrow, nor next week either. But as you gaze back at his hopeful eyes, you know deep in your heart that you’ll find the words you’ve been looking for.

“I’ll keep waiting for you, if you let me.” Jungkook’s voice floats gently to you, and settles in your open palms. This time, you don’t let go

xxx

Months later, Jungkook stops working at the restaurant when an offer from a major record company arrives in his mail. Apparently, a big shot from the local radio station had pitched him to an employee at that company and they were all pleasantly surprised to find a hidden gem at a random bar and restaurant.

In your apartment, you stare outside your window and to where his home is—well, where it was. You wonder if he finished packing his things, ready to make the big move tomorrow. You stand up with a stretch, sparing a glance at your still broken shower. It would be nice to have one more shower at his place… And after that? Maybe you should start looking for a nicer apartment; somewhere far away might be nice.

Your phone rings, and you see his contact photo light up your screen. With a smile, you answer.

“Come over, if you want. I won’t make you,” Jungkook assures you.

You laugh lightly, already halfway out the door.

#bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts reader insert #bts fanfiction #bts imagines #bts fluff #bts angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bangtan #bts #bts fanfic

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jenscx · 3 months

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DAYLIGHT — yu jimin smau

park y/n is known for many things. she’s known as a pretty streamer, a popular entertainer and a hothead when it comes to video games. it’s unfortunate that her rash personality erupts when she meets yu jimin in an overwatch match.

STATUS LOADING… in progress!

TAGS — fluff, angst, influencer!jimin x streamer!reader, enemies to lovers, cursing, gamer!reader, toxic behaviour (in game), kys jokes, suggestive themes more to be added!

FEATURING — aespa, lesserafim, ex-izone members…

UPDATES — every sunday

! IMPORTANT ! this fic is not an accurate portrayal of the kpop idols mentioned. everything stated is fiction.

CHARACTERS… e-girls | battle bus

00. prologue

01. reported

02. who’s that

03. degration kink

04. lying ass

05. shane dawson doc

06. WRONG KIM

07. the boy is mine

08. virgin activity

09. mentally insane

10. battleships

11. d-day (half-written)

12. sugar mama

TAGLIST ! @flolio @imahallucination11 @wallfl9wer @edamboon @seullovesme @twicesserafim @klvarchives @jsvckieie @rinapomu @pandafuriosa60 @urwyf3 @jisooftme @cwpiqwon @yoontoonwhs @limbforalimb @xen248 @aeriniee @r4cjh @dni-unavailable @yukianism @i3lia @ryujinsdimple @intothewinter @thefckghost @httpisaoki @vzjet @haerinsloverr @masuowo @multiliker @edenzeepy @1luvkarina @yeetaberry127 (closed)

#daylight ft. yjm #aespa #aespa x reader #yu jimin x reader #jimin x reader #karina x reader #karina smau #aespa smau #yu jimin smau #jimin smau

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rmsrkive · 8 months

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unconditionally (03) — jung hoseok

summary: for the past three, almost four years, it has only been you and your twins after having been abandoned by your ex-boyfriend. you expected it to remain that way for the rest of your lives until one day you accidentally run into one of his bandmates at the park

pairings: ex-boyfriend/baby daddy!hoseok x f. reader (exes to lovers)

warnings: none

rating: pg-13

word count: 5025

taglist [closed]: @darkphoenix5037 @mushroom-main @partyparty-yah @persnyako @violetpenguinkris @loveforred @thedarkeside @coffeewanderer @inlovewithallmusic @deejay08 @cryinginmyroomsposts @ilikekpop-c @aloverga @as-hs-blog @bangtanlovesk @mintchocoss @hopeonysus @smoltika @jjkluver7 @earth2joon @oricephany @ayoo-bangtan @honsoolgloss @shadowyjellyfishfest @nochuel @addictedtohobi @renoirgoh @btsfluffsworld @scuzmunkie @bellamuerte1987 @strawbi-reads @secfir @missmischief1408 @savage-aespa @bts-dream @mixedfandxms

masterlist

The Bangtan members had never sat in such an uncomfortable atmosphere in their lives. They powered through countless interviews, fan meets, dinners, and meetings, yet not a single one of them could hold a candle to the tension that filled the room as Jung Hoseok glared at his brothers. Seokjin and Namjoon managed to convince Hoseok to not ask any questions about what he overheard and kept his anger at bay during the car ride back to the dorms.

They should have been more careful about their surroundings after you and Joshua left them behind in the parking garage. After a recording session, Hoseok stayed back at HYBE for a meeting with the managers but it had been canceled due to one of them being sick. He expected the other members to have left but was pleasantly surprised to see them still in the parking garage. His excitement, however, disappeared when he heard Seokjin mentioning your name, something he hadn't heard in four years.

"Before you get mad, let us explain," Taehyung began.

"Explain what? That you guys believe that Y/N's kids are actually mine? You know she cheated on me so I don't understand why you guys are suddenly believing that she didn't." Hoseok snapped.

"How do you know she cheated?"

Hoseok's head snapped towards Jin, rage building up at the question and his tone. "What?"

"How do you know she cheated?" Seokjin continued, crossing his arms over his chest. "Do you have any proof, Hoseok? Because as far as I know, you made these baseless accusations about Y/N and never actually showed anybody evidence that she really did cheat."

"Because we never fucked without a condom. I would never be that careless especially when our career was in the middle of taking off. The last thing I needed was a baby tying me down and Y/N was well aware of how well we were doing. Our relationship was already rocky from my busy schedule so she probably went and fucked another guy but told me it was my baby when she found out she was pregnant."

Hearing Hoseok's explanation the second time around was much more different than the first time. When they first heard it, Taehyung and Jungkook immediately clung to his words as if they were gospel. That's why it was so easy for them to cut you off. Jimin, on the other hand, believed Hoseok but struggled to end your friendship because he loved you so dearly. Now that they were hearing the explanation once again, it sounded ridiculous to their ears. They didn't understand how or why they believed him because his reasoning was baseless.

"Condoms aren't effective one hundred percent of the time, you know that right? Any form of contraception doesn't guarantee the prevention of a pregnancy. Even birth control prevents pregnancies only ninety-nine percent of the time so there is still the slightest bit of chance that birth control wouldn't be able to stop a pregnancy. The only way to be sure that Y/N wasn't going to get pregnant was abstaining from sex." Seokjin raised his eyebrows.

"Why are you telling me this?" Hoseok snapped. "I know how all of this works."

"If you know how all of this works then why are you trying to use condoms as an excuse that the kids are not yours? You're not proving anything by saying that. You're just making yourself look like a damn fool because you're scrambling around for excuses as to why Y/N was pregnant."

Hoseok was astonished at how Seokjin was defending you. He was coming to the realization that he had never been on his side the entire time and that he was just pretending to be angry all these years. "Why the fuck are you defending her? There's a higher chance that Y/N cheated on me than a condom not working so I don't know why you're adamant on siding with her. You didn't say any of this when we broke up three years ago so why are you bringing it up now?"

"Because you're a fucking idiot, Hoseok." Seokjin spat. "I haven't been on your side from the start because the lack of evidence and refusal to listen to what Y/N had to say is ridiculous. I only cut ties with her out of respect for our friendship. I wasn't going to choose an ex-girlfriend over somebody I consider my brother and I guarantee you I'm not the only one who thinks this way. You're in the wrong, Hoseok, and deep down inside you know that too. Open your eyes and grow up. It's about time you take responsibility for your actions and apologize to Y/N for the way you treated her."

The room fell silent with the exception of Seokjin's heavy breathing. He rarely got mad at the members and tried his best not to let his anger speak for him as it would be detrimental to the group but three years of pent-up emotions was bound to come out.

"If I were her, I wouldn't forgive you even if you spent the next three years groveling to make up for the time that you weren't there to support her with your kids. Get over yourself, Hoseok."

Without giving Hoseok the chance to say a word, Seokjin stormed out of the dorm, slamming the door shut behind him. The other members stared at the door, the room rattling from the force of it closing. The tension in room the grew tenfold, leaving everybody shifting in their seats uncomfortably while Hoseok cursed Seokjin out.

The breakup between you and Hoseok ran much deeper than they thought.

“Noona!”

You let out a shriek and dropped the stack plastic cups you were hugging to your chest on the ground, whipping your head to see who was calling you.

Mingyu, Seokmin, and Minghao skidded to a stop in front of the counter, seemingly panicked and out of breath. Their panicked expressions worried you, causing you to ignore the dropped cups.

"What's wrong? Did something happen?"

They frantically nodded, shooting each other worried glances before looking back at you. An uneasy feeling settled in your stomach as you waited for them to explain, knowing there was only one reason for their panic.

“The three of us hung out with Jungkook last night and he told me some pretty startling things about Hoseok and the rest of the group." Mingyu began grimly. "Hoseok overheard their conversation about you after Shua hyung walked you to your car in the HYBE parking garage a few days ago. It caused a big fight between him and Seokjin hyung so they haven't been on speaking terms since."

You furrowed your eyebrows together. Seokjin and Hoseok had gotten into a fight about the other members bumping into you? What could they have possibly fought about if the pair had been on the same page since the breakup? "They're in a fight right now? What happened?" You asked.

"Apparently Seokjin hyung never wanted to cut ties with you nor did he believe that you cheated on Hoseok hyung. Seokjin hyung was upfront with him about the fact that he had no excuse to accuse you of cheating when he had no evidence about his claims. Obviously Hoseok hyung got mad because he was defending you so now it's a mess between the group right now. Yoongi hyung sided with Seokjin but the rest are neutral." Seokmin further explained.

"But that's not the concern right now, noona." Minghao frowned, glancing behind him as if he was waiting for somebody to peek through the windows. "Hoseok hyung has been trying to find you since the fight."

"What?!"

Your mouth hung open at the new bit of information received, unable to believe you were hearing. You glanced between Seokmin and Mingyu, who nodded grimly. You sighed deeply before dropping your head into your hands, your elbows falling against the countertop before you let out a loud groan. Mingyu immediately reached out to rub your back gently, a frown etched across his face.

"Is there any way we can help you, noona?" Seokmin asked. "We can hire security if you feel unsafe. The last thing we want is for you to feel unsafe in your own home and cafe knowing that Hoseok hyung is trying to find you."

You shook your head as you stood upright again. "No, it's fine. If Hoseok ends up showing up here or at my house, I have no issue dealing with him. He's not the type to lash out or anything so I'm not worried. I just don't want him seeing the twins or anything like that."

One thing about Hoseok was that he was not a violent person. He wasn't the type of boyfriend to lash out and make you scared whenever the two of you got into small fights and even when you two broke up, you didn't worry about being in harm's way. The only concern you had was that he would show up at the cafe and get a glimpse of the twins while they were hanging out with you and your employees while you were walking.

"We're sorry, noona." Minghao said quietly. "These past few weeks have been an absolute shit storm and we can't imagine how overwhelmed you're feeling."

You gave them a tired smile, grateful for all that the three of them had been doing since you ran into Jungkook at the park. They had been nothing but patient and kind with you, doing their best to provide updates about Hoseok based on what Jungkook was telling them. And it seemed like the maknae was contacting his friends more often than not, particularly Mingyu. "It's okay, I appreciate everything you guys are doing and have been doing. It means a lot that you guys care about me and the twins."

"Of course, noona. We're family. We would do anything for you." Seokmin smiled.

That was the issue with the Seventeen members sometimes; they would quite literally do anything for you that it made you wonder, what exactly would they do for you and how far would they go?

"I come bearing gifts."

You looked up from the countertop you were wiping down to see Joshua walking in with a bag in his hand. In the other hand, you saw the keys to your cafe dangling from his hands, causing you to roll your eyes at how he let himself inside despite the cafe being closed.

"Gifts?" You echoed, gesturing for him to take a seat on one the stools.

"For the twins." He replied, digging through the bag to show you what he purchased. "I went shopping with Myungho today and got carried away when we passed the kid's section. I bought a new outfit for each of the twins and a stuffed animal."

"Jisoo."

You frowned as you looked at the matching outfits he purchased for Jaehee and Jaeyoung, the frown only growing bigger as you stared at the matching Jellycat stuffies as well. You stared at the bok choy and cauliflower that were smiling at you, unsure if the twins even knew what either vegetable was. "What did I say about buying gifts for the twins?"

"You didn't say anything," Joshua argued. "Besides, the twins are like my babies too. Can't I buy something for them every once in a while?"

You scoffed, "By every once in a while, do you mean every other day?"

He pouted, yes pouted, and stared at the cauliflower sadly. "Is it bad that I want to spoil them?"

"Yes, Joshua. I don't have room for new stuff anymore because you, Eunae, and the rest of the Seventeen members go on a shopping spree every time you step foot in a mall. Not that I'm not appreciative of everything you get for the twins but I feel bad."

"Well, you shouldn't feel bad because we love the twins just as much as you do. Maybe even more."

Joshua laughed, putting his hands up in surrender as you smacked him with the rag you cleaned the counters with, smiling as you went on an angry rant about how it wasn't possible for anybody to love their kid more than their mother. A father, perhaps, but none of them were the father of your twins, now were they?

"Why are you bothering me after hours, Joshua?" You asked. "You should've gone to Eunae's apartment because she and Seungcheol are with the twins."

"Because I wanted to see you, silly. It's lonely closing up so I decided to keep you company." He smiled.

You smiled back at him. "How about you be of good use and taste test some drinks I have prepared for the summer menu?"

"You just released the spring menu."

"It doesn't hurt to prepare in advance."

Joshua sat patiently as you made several drinks for him to try, ranging from different flavor ades, to fruit teas, to even smoothies. He rated everything on a scale of 1-10, though it didn't help much because he rated every single drink a ten. He insisted that all of the drinks were made perfectly but you were still skeptical because they were random drink recipes that you had thrown together.

"Owning a cafe is really your calling, Y/Nie. I don't think there's a single bad thing on your menu." Joshua praised as he took another sip of the peach ade you just handed him.

You rolled your eyes with a fond smile on your face. "You're just saying that because we're friends."

"No, I really mean it. I don't think there's a cafe I love more than yours. Every single drink and food is good with a reasonable price, the entire place is clean and cozy, the customer service is excellent, what more can people ask for?"

Sometimes you wished you were in love with Joshua instead.

As you watched him gush about your cafe, you couldn't help but smile at him endearingly while nodding along to his words. He was such a kind and gentle soul and you were always going to be grateful that you met him through Seungcheol. He had been nothing short of an angel since you met him and you found yourself wishing more often than not that he had been the one you fell in love with. He was wonderful with the twins, treating them as if they were his own kids, and genuinely loved spending time with the three of you. If he had been the one you fell in love with, you were sure that you be happier than you had ever been. You were sure your life would be much easier if he was the person you woke up to every morning and the person you fell asleep beside every night.

Not to say that you weren't happy with Hoseok, but you could have avoided a lot of heartbreak and pain if you never met him in the first place. But it was inevitable considering that you two met in high school and began dating even before he debuted in BTS. A seven-year friendship and a five-year relationship were hard to forget, no matter how much Hoseok hurt you when he broke up with you all those years ago.

You were selfish, yes, for thinking such a thing about Joshua but you had hope when the two of you dated for a month and a half before ending things because you both figured it would be for the best. You truly believed during the month and a half that Joshua was the one for you before you came to the nasty realization that part of you were still in love with Hoseok and that you always would be in love with Hoseok.

It also didn't help that Joshua was also stuck in a messy situation, where had been on and off with one of his childhood best friends. During the brief moment the two of them weren't friends, Joshua asked you out because he was sure that you were the one he truly wanted. As lovely as you were, he was still hung up on the girl he grew up with, much like how you were still hung up on Hoseok. Both of you let the other down gently, breaking up on mutual terms yet remaining good friends. Nobody apart from the two of you knew that you had dated for a month and a half and you intended to keep it that way. The last thing you needed was for Seungcheol and Soonyoung to get on your ass for not telling them and for the rest of the group to be upset that they had never known. It would cause far too many problems and quite frankly, the last thing you wanted to deal with was a sulky Seventeen.

Sometimes you wished you were in love with Joshua instead. And sometimes you wished he was in love with you too.

By the time you had fed Joshua a sufficient amount of summer menu items, it was already nighttime. You overstayed your welcome at the cafe and left the twins with Eunae much longer than you anticipated so you were itching to pick them up and head home for the night. Though you would've left much sooner if Joshua hadn't argued with you for fifteen minutes about taking you home as if you didn't have your own.

"Are you sure you'll be fine closing up on your own?" Joshua frowned.

"Yes, Josh, I promise I'll be fine." You answered.

"I can drive you home and drop you off here in the morning, it's no issue for me."

You simply smiled and kissed your hand before smacking his forehead. "I'm fine, Joshie, I swear. I'll text you when I get home. Drive safely, okay?"

"Okay." He reluctantly complied. "Good night, Y/N."

"Good night."

You waved goodbye, watching him drive away before turning around to head back into the cafe. You happily hummed to yourself, satisfied with how well the day went before you abruptly paused in your steps. You noticed a figure standing inside which would have startled you had you not immediately recognized the figure that was observing the interior.

“Hoseok?”

At the sound of his name, he yanked off his mask and pulled the hood of his jacket off revealing his face to you for the first time since the breakup. Your breath hitched at the sight of his face, feeling your heart drop as the two of you held eye contact.

Hoseok was still as beautiful as you remembered him being four years ago. Granted, you did see him plastered all over billboards, buses, train stations, and other sorts of advertisements over the years but none of them held a candle to his beauty in real life. He appeared much more mature than he did before, his baby fat completely gone which allowed for his facial features to be more defined. His hair was back to its natural color, which had always been your favorite while you guys dated. He was always testing out new hair colors and while he suited every single one, you loved his dark hair the most. As you stared at Hoseok in silence, it felt like you were falling in love with him all over again.

"What are you doing here?" You asked cautiously, afraid he was going to abandon you again if you said the wrong thing.

"I came to see you." He replied quietly. "I have to talk to you about something."

Hoseok hesitantly came closer, stopping when he was a few feet away from you. He took your silence as an opportunity to take a look at you, wondering how much you changed since he broke up with you and how much you changed after the pregnancy. You're still as gorgeous as you were when he first broke up with you and the only thing that changed was that you looked exhausted. Despite the smile and laughs you shared with Joshua prior to his arrival, your shoulders were hunched the slightest bit and there was a permanent frown on your face. As he stared into your eyes, he could see the lingering sadness swimming around. Hoseok didn't pride himself in being able to easily reading people's emotions but he could still read you like an open book; that was how little you changed in the past four years. Or so he thinks.

He caught a whiff of your perfume as you untied the string of your apron and placed it across the back of a chair. It was the same fragrance you wore while the two of you dated, a perfume that he gifted (of many) you for your first anniversary. It was his favorite scent just as much as it was yours. You smelled of the farmer's markets that you dragged Hoseok to whenever the two of you were in the States, of peaches, jasmine flowers, cedar, and oak. Your perfume took him back to the late-night walks along the Han River before sharing a piping hot bowl of ramen or visiting an auntie at her tteokbokki and eomuk stand, it reminded him of the nights you stayed up together late into the night, talking about the futures you wanted. Getting married, moving out of Seoul, starting a family...the funny thing was that you two did start a family—just not together.

In the midst of doubts and uncertainty, there was one thing Hoseok knew for sure: he was still completely and utterly in love with you.

"What do you need to talk about?" Maybe it was stupid of you to be oblivious, but a part of you hoped that Hoseok wanted to talk you about something other than the twins. Although the chances were slim to none.

"Remember when you told me before we broke up that you were pregnant?" Hoseok asked.

You nodded your head slowly, already not liking the way the conversation was going. You did not want to talk about the twins, nor did you think today would be the day.

“I didn’t believe you because I was sure that the baby wasn’t mine. I know I have no right to ask you again, but is the baby really mine?”

One thing you appreciated about Hoseok was that he was self aware. He knew he had no right to be asking you about the child(ren) he left behind and you were glad that he acknowledged. But that didn’t brush past the fact that he hadn’t heard you out four years ago and all of the pent up anger was rushing back at once.

“Why, so you can call me a cheater again and leave me a second time?” You sneered.

Hoseok frowned, “No, I genuinely want to know.”

“And I genuinely want you to get the hell out of my cafe and never come back.”

“Excuse me?”

Hoseok should’ve seen your reaction coming. He really should’ve seen it coming after thinking about how you two ended things four years ago. A selfish part of him hoped that you would be open to talking to him, willing to find closure after all these years, and maybe even allow him to meet your kid. He was naive to think that getting back into your good graces would be easy.

"Did you ever really love me?"

Hoseok froze at your question, slowly turning his head up to look at you. His eyes flashed with fury, a wave of anger he had never felt washing over him. Were you really questioning his love after he spent a year chasing after you and remained loyal to you for five years? He almost gave up being an idol because he was afraid that it would change your relationship yet you were questioning whether or not he loved you. One thing Hoseok knew for sure was that he never stopped loving you.

"Watch what you say, Y/N." He warned in a low tone.

"How can you say that you loved me when you broke up with me so easily when I showed you the pregnancy? You didn't think twice about accusing me of cheating and didn't give me a single chance to defend myself! You assumed that I cheated based off of no evidence! When have I ever given you a reason to lose your trust in me? I have known you before you debuted, Jung Hoseok and I stayed by your side every step of the day. All of those days and nights I spent alone with little to no contact should've pushed me to that you were the one cheating on me but I still thought the best of you and never even thought about the fact that you were cheating. Even to this day, I don't think that. Is that how little you think of me? That just because I had an accidental pregnancy it meant that I cheated on you? Don't tell me to watch what I say when you gave me countless reasons to doubt your love for me!”

The last thing you wanted was to give Hoseok the satisfaction of making you cry but you couldn't stop the tears that burned your eyes from falling down your face. The mix of anger, hurt, and sadness was seeping through your veins, and you were beginning to feel overwhelmed by the situation. The cafe had more customers than usual after several Seventeen members had been caught buying drinks and pastries a few days ago so the exhaustion of working all day was hitting you harder than usual. Having Hoseok show up out of the blue and try to pick a fight with you was pushing you over the edge. You felt your patience wear thin throughout the day but now you reached your breaking point.

"Do me a fucking favor and stay the hell away from me and my kids, okay? We were fine for the past three years without you and we'll continue to be fine. You don't get to come barging into my cafe demanding that I let you see my kids as if you aren't the one who chose to leave me at the start of my pregnancy."

"If you don't let me see the kids, I'll take you to court, Y/N."

Your head snapped up at his threat, your anger rising to a level you had never felt it reach before. "What the fuck did you just say?"

"I'll take you to court," Hoseok repeated. "I have a right to see my kids, Y/N. You don't get to keep them from me just because you're still angry over something that happened three years ago. I have all the money in the world to hire the best lawyers so you can try all you want to keep them from me."

You laughed coldly, astounded by the audacity of his claims. "You have a right to see my kids? You broke up with me the minute I showed you the pregnancy test and accused me of cheating with no proof that I actually did. You also refused to take a paternity test when that alone would've proved that the twins are your kids. You haven't paid child support, you blocked me on every form of communication, and you told your bandmates to cut contact with me yet you want me to let you see the twins? The court isn't going to side with you, Hoseok. It doesn't matter how much money, power, or fame you have because even the best lawyers can’t help grant you any sort of custody or visitations over the kids when you've been a deadbeat father for three years." You spat, backing him up against the counter.

Hoseok remained silent, struggling to keep his emotions at bay. He was angry that you were refusing to let him meet your kids despite the fact that he was finally showing interest in meeting them. Isn't that what you wanted? For him to finally be a father to your kids? The hatred raging in your eyes was a stab in the heart. Never had you ever looked at him with so much loathe and disgust, and he was coming to the realization of exactly how much he fucked up. The damage done to your relationship was beyond repair and he was sure that he was never going to see you or the twins again. Most of all, he felt guilty and sorry that he had left you alone for three, almost four years. The thought of you going through the pregnancy, birth, and raising them alone made his stomach turn. He felt sick and was disgusted by his actions.

“I spent nine months alone, pregnant with twins, and spent another three years alone raising them. I had no nobody to help me when I woke up vomiting for three months because of morning sickness. I had to work for nearly eight months on swollen feet and a sore back because I didn’t have any money to be able to take time off of work to raise my kids. I drove myself to the hospital when I was in labor and was alone when I gave birth to them. I was scared, Hoseok, fucking terrified because the second you broke up with me, I knew that I would have to raise a child on my own without any support from the people around me. You have some nerve to come into my cafe and demand to see the kids you chose to abandon."

Tears stung Hoseok's eyes as he stared into your teary yet furious eyes, his vision blurring. Your eyes remained cold despite noticing the way he was tearing up, feeling no sense of remorse or pity for the man in front of you. Hoseok had taken the ability to feel anything but anger and resentment toward him years ago.

"You wanna go to court? Then let's go to court, Hoseok. I have no problems spending months paying lawyers to watch you be given absolutely no custody or visitation rights over the twins."

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#jung hoseok #jhope #hobi #bts jhope #hoseok fic #jhope fic #hobi fic #hoseok x reader #jhope x reader #hobi x reader #hoseok angst #bts fic #unconditionally

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chimcess · 3 months

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Waterlog || pjm (1)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Olympic Swimmer!Jimin, Ex Olympic Swimmer! Reader, Swim Coach!Reader Genre: Strangers to Friends to Lovers!AU, Coach!AU, Swimming!AU, Age Gap!AU, HEAVY Angst, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, fluff, eventual smut, I'm so soft for these two it's crazy. Word Count: 17.4k+ Synopsis: After a car accident ends her athletic career, Y/N has slowly started rebuilding her life again as a high school swim coach. That’s until she gets a request from an old friend and finds herself back in the spotlight as the new coach of Olympic swimmer, Park Jimin. Warnings: discussions of significant death (does not happen in story), talks of a bad car accident, talks of drunk driving (please drinking responsibly), more than likely wrong swimming terms and poor understanding of how the Olympics actually works (I did so much research, pls be nice to me lol), strong language, lots of mental health discussions, reader has mommy and daddy issues, Older reader, Jimin is a complete sweetie, the tamest chapter of them all A/N: Well, well, well, look who came back. I first wrote Waterlog back in 2021, and while I enjoy the premise, I hate the finished product. I wanted to go back and edit/fix what I originally had, but when I tried it became so different, I was better off rewriting the entire thing. I hope you guys like this mini-series. If you would like to read the original go to my blog archive. Thank you for reading!

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Staring at the pool, I managed to calm myself with relative ease. Jin had been right, physical therapy had made things easier. The water glistened prettily in the lights, and I waited with bated breath for my trainer to come in.

Emery was a sweet guy, pretty with a lip ring and tattoos, but with a surprising amount of shyness it was laughable. His softness was offset by his powerful muscles, and I enjoyed his never-ending sense of humor. Unlike Dr.Maddox, Emery treated me like I was a normal person. Not an Olympian who almost lost her leg in an accident, or the woman whose fiancé died. I was just Y/N, and it was a relief to be around him.

Running my fingers along the scars on my leg, I mindlessly drew patterns around them in the silence. It was not normal for Emery to take this long, but his assistant had said he was running behind due to another patient, so I was unbothered. I had planned my entire day around this, so I was in no rush.

Finally, the door swung open revealing a disheveled Emery. Breathing heavier than usual, he rolled his eyes at me in frustration before saying his pleasantries. Whoever it had been had gotten him worked up.

“Rough morning?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

With an annoyed sigh, he nodded.

“I shouldn’t say this, but I hope that woman never comes back here.”

I laughed, “We all have that someone. Don’t feel too bad.”

Shaking his head, I could tell it took restraint on his part not to rant and rave about the woman who had left. Emery and I were more friendly than most. I had been seeing him for over two years now, but we still kept a semblance of a professional relationship. Especially Emery.

“How’s the kids?” He asked, making small talk as we started getting ready for a swim.

I was the coach of a high school swim team in town, something I talked about quite a bit, and Emery always liked hearing about. He was a great water polo player but chose to go into physical therapy while he was in college. After seeing one of his friends get injured and how much physical therapy had helped him, Emery decided to change his major. Four years later, he says he could never see himself doing anything else.

“They’re doing well,” I said honestly. “We got a couple of freshmen on the team, but they’re doing a lot better than I thought they would.”

Emery hummed, offering me assistance getting into the pool. While walking had been mostly figured out, the obvious limp aside, I still had some trouble with getting in-and-out of things. Even my bathtub had to be switched out since I was unable to step over it. I still used the medical chair while in there, too.

The water was cool against my skin, and I felt instantly relieved. The dull aches and pains left as soon as I got into the water. Swimming to my usual spot, I waited patiently for Emery to join me.

“That’s great to hear,” He smiled.

Going to the edge of the pool, Emery grabbed a set of barbells and handed them to me. Taking them, the two of us went over the workout plan for the day. Pulling himself up on the pool’s edge, Emery picked up his stopwatch and told me to begin.

Getting on the interstate, I sang along to the radio as I made my way to Hoseok’s. The two of us had been friends since high school, our mutual love for swimming making it impossible to keep apart, and only growing with time. He was one of my biggest support systems after the accident. Both of us had retired years ago now, but I remembered our days as Olympians fondly. Those were the best years of my life.

A small group of our friends were getting together at his house to watch the summer Olympics this afternoon. The women’s swimming finals were happening today, and I knew two of the girls competing. Turning on my blinker, I quickly got off the interstate.

Pressing around my car’s radio screen, I went to my contacts and pressed Andy’s number. She was off today and in charge of getting everything together. Hoseok had tried to do it himself, but always seemed to forget who should do what and ended up buying everything himself. She picked up after the fourth ring.

“What’s up, sugar?” Andy greeted, her voice soft and light. Her Memphis accent was thick and brought a smile to my face. Everyone had made jokes about her being southern when we first met. “Don’t tell me you’re missing Nationals.”

I shook my head even though she could not see me.

“I’m on my way,” I replied. “What should I pick up? I completely forgot.”

Andy sighed, “You’re just as bad as Jin.”

Seokjin was Andy’s husband. The two of them had been together whenever they moved to Colorado, married before I ever met them, and became quick friends with Hoseok when they moved to the Springs. That was how I had met them. Whenever their daughter Dani was born, Andy had asked me to be her Godmother and I sobbed in her lap. They were my closest friends next to Hoseok. Jin was indeed very forgetful, though, and the jibe made me chuckle.

“Cut me some slack,” I argued. “I’ve been working out for two hours straight.”

I could hear the smile in her voice, “Just get some pizza or something. We’re picking up some wings and Hobi’s in charge of the drinks. Minho and Tilly are bringing… something. I don’t even know anymore.”

Fully laughing now, I saw a Little Ceasars up ahead and got into the correct lane. Minho and Matilda were loose cannons when it came to our parties. While sweet, and fiercely loyal, I found myself wondering why I hung out with them at times. We were night and day personality wise, but I loved them dearly. Minho would probably bring some Korean side dishes from home, and Matilda would pick up a few packs of ramen from the store. Andy was stressing over nothing again. I hoped she was getting proper rest on her days off.

“I’m at Little Caesars,” I told her, parking my car. “I’m going to get the basics. How many things of Crazy Bread should I get?”

She thought for a second before replying.

“Five?” She was definitely unsure about her answer.

It was hard to gauge just how hungry everyone would be, and Jin was a bottomless pit.

“Sounds good,” I said instead, already thinking about getting more.

“Drive safe. See you in a bit.”

“See you, Andy,” I unplugged my phone from the charger.

Pressing it to my ear, I pressed my start button and turned it off. I climbed out of my car and started walking to the store.

“Love you,” She sing-songed playfully.

“Love you, too,” I replied. Opening the door, a worker greeted me with a smile. “I’m about to order.”

Shoving my phone in my back pocket, I gave the worker an awkward smile before telling him my order. I ended up getting seven bags instead of five. Just in case. Dani really liked the stuff and Jin could smash an entire bag by himself. While I waited for the cheese pizza to come out of the oven, my phone started ringing.

“Hello?” I answered, unable to check the caller ID while the cashier shoved the crazy bread into my arms.

“I heard from a little bird that you’re thinking about competing again.”

I grinned and thanked the cashier as she handed me my other pizza.

“Hello to you, too, Frank,” I replied. “And your little birdie wouldn’t happen to be Hoseok, would it?”

Frank and Sarah Boone had become a part of my life after the accident. They ran a local support group to help those affected by drunk drivers to get connected with resources and therapy. The two had lost their son when he decided to drive home drunk from a party and used the group as their own coping mechanism. They were wonderful people and owned their own joint coffee shop and bookstore in Denver.

“Won’t say names,” He chuckled, “But it might have come from a certain part-timer. So, is it true?”

I placed the boxes in the passenger seat and rounded my car. This was not a conversation I was expecting to happen today. I had brought up the idea to Hoseok since the Olympics were coming up next year, but I was not committed to it. I was enjoying my new job coaching and did not think I was in any condition for competition. When he brought up the Paralympics I laughed. Those competitors were in better shape than I was, and I doubted I would qualify. I was disabled but my disability did not (as far as I knew) carry over into the pool.

“I was just talking shit, Frank,” Backing out of the parking space, I put in Hoseok’s address and started to drive. Switching over to my car’s phone, I put my phone down and looked at the road. “You know I’m happy with my life right now.”

He made a grunting noise that told me he did not really believe me. No one did. All of them were sure I was miserable about my career ending far before its time, and while that may be true, I felt more loss about the life I was supposed to have than winning medals. I missed Namjoon more than any medal. Frank and Sarah understood that.

“I know that,” He cleared his throat, and I could hear the congestion. Frank had come down with a nasty case of walking pneumonia two weeks ago and was still recovering. “Just got a little excited is all. It would be nice to see you putting yourself back out there.”

It would be nice to see myself back in the pool, I could admit that. I had dreams of it at times. Being a competitor was a part of who I was. From the first time my dad took me to my swim classes when I was six all the way until I claimed my eighth Olympic medal, everyone had said there was nothing I hated more than losing. I was fiery, free-spirited, and kept my eyes on the prize. It was the thing Namjoon loved about me the most. That made me frown.

“I left a champ,” I forced a laugh. “Need to save some gold for the rest of them.”

Hiding behind humor was a pastime.

Frank laughed, oblivious to the hollowness in my tone. “Heard they have a new guy taking your place.”

That made me snort, “He’s not taking my spot. Totally different competitions, my friend.”

“Winning gold like you, that’s for damn sure.”

It must be Jimin Park. The kid turned up on the scene a year after my accident. He was a very, very talented swimmer. Fast as a bullet with the best butterflies I had ever seen, Park was a force to be reckoned with in the men’s league. It was a joy to watch him swim and this year would be his first Olympics. Hoseok and I were very excited to watch him.

“If you’re talking about Park,” I chuckled. “He’s far from new. He’s been competing for a few years now. First Olympics, though.”

“He’s young, ain’t he?”

I nodded, “23, I think.”

Truthfully, I did not know how old he was. I remember the buzz around how young he was when he first broke out on the scene. He was eighteen when he took home gold all season before a family emergency took him out of the Olympics last minute. No one knew what really happened, but his team had said his brother was in an accident, tragically losing his life, and Jimin was prioritizing his family. He’s competed every year since and with the Olympics next year, I was certain Park would be there. He deserved it.

I was parked in front of the house now and from the cars outside, I was the last person to arrive. Frank and I talked for a few moments. It was cute how much he had learned about swimming so we could be buddies. Sarah was the only person who recognized my face when I first started going to the meetings and her husband was determined to get me to open after weeks of sitting in bitter silence in the back.

We hung up after I promised I would make it to the meeting next Thursday. Frank was not happy about me skipping the past two weeks, but understood I was taking some time to myself. My boys were going to compete this year, I had fought tooth and nail for that funding, and the extra hours at school were exhausting. Jeremy and Evan showed promise, but they knew how to drive me up the wall with all of their simple mistakes.

As I suspected, the party was in full swing. Matilda and Minho were laughing loudly on the sofa, Hoseok sporting a beer in the recliner next to them, and Dani practicing her gymnastics in the middle of it all. I could hear the commentators talking animatedly about the girls, who they believed would come out on top and highlights from the night before, but I never really paid them any mind.

“Pizza’s here!” Minho boomed, practically running to greet me.

I laughed, handing over the boxes, “Need help carrying the rest in.”

Matilda offered, happily taking my car keys and leaving the house. Minho had disappeared into the kitchen. Dani spared me enough attention for a smile and wave before launching into excited pleas for me to watch her new moves.

“Super cool, babe,” I smiled sweetly after her handstand. Dani was not particularly good at gymnastics. She started later than the other girls, rarely did anything she was actively afraid of, and hated her coach. Andy was already looking for a better gym, but I just thought she should start pointing her in another direction. Dani loved dancing and she would be a wonderful ballerina or figure skater if given the proper training. The Kim’s, however, seemed fine watching her deal with gymnastics and cheerleading. “You’re getting better.”

Dani beamed, “Daddy said the same thing.”

Flipping the right way around, her hair coming out of its messily tied bun and falling down past her shoulders. Brown, loose waves made her look so much younger than her eight years, her small stature only selling the illusion even more. Her skin was smooth, and she always looked as though she had been playing outside in the sun, a constant tinge of pink beneath her sandy skin. Her features favored her father, large eyes, long face, and plush, pillow-like lips, but after meeting Andy’s parents, I could see her grandmother hidden within the mischievous glint in her eyes and too small ears.

“Your dad’s a smart guy,” I joked.

She continued to babble away as I made myself more comfortable, kicking off my shoes and tossing my hat onto the small buffet table that sat above the shoe rack. Matilda came back inside, her arms filled with bags of bread, and I took two from the pile. With a thankful, thin-lipped grin, she also complimented Dani’s moves before disappearing around the corner in the direction of the kitchen.

“Dani,” Hoseok seemed to have finally grown tired of hearing the girl talk. I would imagine this was all he had been hearing since he arrived. “Do you want to color with me?”

The little girl clapped happily, her eyes bright and shining, before abandoning her mat to gather a few coloring books and her massive hoard of crayons. Hoseok looked at me then, a sly smile on his face before winking. I chuckled and shook my head. He always did that to make her shut up.

I left the living room before Dani came back. I loved her dearly, but I could admit she talked too much. It was a good thing for a kid her age to be so social but that did not mean I wanted to hear her every waking thought. Andrea and Seokjin were the only parents in our little group, and I imagined it would stay that way for a while. Even if my dreams of children were still alive, I did not have anybody I wanted to take on that responsibility with.

Minho was eating the pizza, as expected, while Matilda had already claimed her own bag of Crazy Bread. Andy and Jin were snuggled up at their dining table, his arms securing her to his chest, and she curled into him. I loved watching them together. I had grown up in a house with two people who hated one another, barely kept up a facade of civility before my mother skipped down to be with her new boyfriend in Florida leaving my dad and I behind in Pennsylvania. We made it work but things were never the same after that. It made me happy to know little Dani would feel the love radiating in her home as she grew up. I had never seen two people so enamored with one another in my life- not even Namjoon and I.

“How was therapy?” Minho asked after we exchanged pleasantries. “Hoseok said you were talking about competing next season.”

I laughed in disbelief. That man did not know how to keep his mouth shut. I said the same thing I told Frank over the phone, and he scoffed. Minho never truly laughed, if I was honest. It was always a snicker, scoff, or chuckle. He was a man of little words and even fewer outbursts of joy, and I found his versions of those things just as reserved as the rest of him. He was the most expressive when he smiled, but those were just as rare as a genuine laugh. Dani managed to squeeze more out of him than anybody else.

“Stop meddling!” Andy scolded the other man from her spot in Seokjin’s lap.

“Never,” My friend replied, amusement clear in his voice.

“Never!” Dani echoed, voice louder than Hoseok’s. She was giggling happily alongside him, and I rolled my eyes. He was her favorite. “Never!” She repeated again, pleased when Hoseok laughed. “Never!”

“That’s enough,” Jin’s voice was even and smooth.

Dani did not shout again but we could all hear her and Hoseok attempting to cover up their laughter. Andy smiled fondly. Their little friendship had warmed her heart. After Dani, Andrea had been diagnosed with cervical cancer. It had come back six times before her doctor said she needed to get a hysterectomy. She grieved the children they would never have, the large family she dreamed of stolen from her, but once Dani was old enough to walk, she had been glued to Hoseok’s hip.

Hoseok for all he spoke about never wanting children, he adored Dani. His family was small, he and his sister the only children, but they were extremely close. She lived in New York City as a fashion designer and got married last year, and I always had the feeling Hoseok felt lonely without her. Dani was a welcome break from routine and made him feel special. It was sweet but I hoped my friend would find someone to share his life with someday.

“It’s starting,” Hoseok announced.

It was a great day for the U.S. Opal Simmons was one to look out for. She was the oldest woman on the team, a shocking 24, but she could out swim a vast majority of them. Her freestyles were amazing, earning her a gold with Japan just a few points behind. I was hopeful she would be able to come out on top in her distance swim. While not the fastest in the pool, the girl knew how to pace herself. The cameras cut to the shot of one of her coaches smiling triumphantly at the performance.

He was a good friend of mine, Oswald Bunch. He had been heavily involved with the Olympics for years now, promoted to one of the lead coaches back in 2020, but I remembered when he was still competing. A few years older than me, Ozzie was known for his backstrokes and long-distance swimming, and we bonded whenever we got the chance to meet in London back in 2012.

That was my first Olympics. I was a fresh-faced 20-year-old on a mission. My team at the time was stoked to have me around and I was excited to be there. I had built up a solid reputation over the course of two years, winning seven medals my first adult-competitive season, and the high was incredible. Back then, I was always the one to beat at the breaststroke and therefore, the medleys were in my favor as well. I walked away with 4 golds that year, and again in 2016. The accident happened a year later, but I left the competitive world with 8 gold Olympic medals and 19 world champion gold medals. Katie Ledecky held the record now, but for a time, I was the most decorated female swimmer in history. I was excited when I was finally passed up, happy for the younger woman.

Ozzie was the man, but sadly never got out of Michael Phelp’s shadow. It was not his fault. That man was insane in the water and would become the most decorated Olympian ever. Bunch was a great swimmer, but I did not know a single person who could compare to Phelps. Hoseok, maybe, but he only had 12 gold medals. Phelps had 23.

“Simmons looks great out there,” Hoseok praised, a large smile on his face.

“Her butterflies could use a little work,” I murmured back, already seeing how I could fix it with some extra exercises. “It’s slowing down her freestyle. What else is she scheduled for?”

“I think she’s doing the 200-meter freestyles and the medley relay,” He replied, taking a sip of his beer. “Bunch is banking on her pacing.”

“She won’t win those,” I was positive. “She’s just going to get tired. Breaststrokes are obviously not her thing.”

He laughed, “You’re the breaststroke queen, Y/N. No one's as good as yours.”

I shrugged, “Ledecky is a great swimmer.”

“Never said she wasn’t,” He sipped. “Her freestyles are killer. Girls could never beat you in breaststroke or a medley. You’re untouchable there.”

It made me smile despite myself. Hoseok was right, those were my competitions. Even if Katie had surpassed my record for most gold medals ever, I still had more Olympic medals than she did, and they were in completely different events. I could have kept my title had the accident never happened. I would have. Even if we were friendly, Ledecky would have been my competition, and I would have fought hard to keep the record.

“What’s Jimin doing this year?” Matilda asked as the women’s scores were posted. Opal would be a strong contender. “Anyone know?”

I nodded, “I haven’t watched every competition, but he’s sticking to what he does best. Didn’t he swim the 200 yesterday?”

“Yeah,” Hoseok replied. “He’s skipping out today and doing his individual tomorrow. Swimming back-to-back after that. Kid’s a fucking animal in the water.”

I couldn't agree more. As I stared at Opal’s smiling face, her pale blonde hair and bright blue eyes, I wished I had been able to watch Jimin instead. She was cold and impassive even with a large, perfectly white grin that took up most of her face. In fact, I found her quite boring outside of the water. No flair or features that set her apart. Just a tall, well-built blonde with a nice smile. Ozzie would have to work hard to make her memorable.

“Simmons did well,” I yawned. “It’s getting late, though, and I have work in the morning.”

The goodbyes were quick, and Dani made me promise to take her roller skating soon. There was a girl at school making fun of her and she wanted her “super cool” and “famous” aunt to tell them off. We all laughed, and I told her we could go this weekend after gymnastics practice.

My drive home was uneventful. It was already dark out, something that bothered me more than I would ever admit out loud, and I never turned on the radio. I preferred to drive in absolute silence, eyes and ears glued to the road. I had only started talking on the phone recently.

I was much worse after the accident. I refused to get inside of a car for weeks and if I did, I was a mess. No one was allowed to be a distracted driver either. No radio, no phone, no conversations. Nothing. Jin had been the default chauffeur during that time and put up with my anxiety better than the others.

It was close to a year before I tried to sit in the front seat again. Another five before I got behind the wheel. For hours I would sit in the garage with my hands on the steering wheel staring off into the distance. I was still in a wheelchair for most of my daily activities and a very obvious limp made me too self-conscious to be seen. Isolating was easy. Keeping the others away was more difficult.

My drives started with me just backing out of the driveway. I went around the block a few weeks later, hands shaking and Andy trying her best to soothe me in the passenger seat. I did not drive past the Whole Foods two minutes away from my house until after the second year. Things were easier after I ditched the wheelchair and got more open to the idea of therapy.

Moving out of Denver was the best decision I ever made, the Springs were easier to drive in and the traffic was not as awful. Andrea and Jin bought in Black Forest once I was settled in Briargate, so loneliness was never an option.

Matilda almost moved in after the housewarming party Andy threw for me. She said it was far too big for one person and the neighborhood was to die for. I laughed her off at the time not really wanting to admit how nice it sounded.

Nestled in Fairfax, my house was a beautiful piece of architecture. The striking brick and wood front exterior provided a warm welcome, with teal trimmings bringing a fresh feeling to the otherwise plain color scheme. With five bedrooms and four bathrooms, I dreamed of the day I was able to fill them all. A dream that I hoped would come before I hit 35.

Pulling up to the house, I waved to Chika next door. The old woman raised her hand, still nursing a large mug of what I assumed to be tea and smiled. They were lovely people and we often helped one another out whenever we could. Chika liked to bring over food if she cooked and I paid my landscapers to keep with their lawn.

“Late night?” Chika called out from her front porch.

“Went to a friend’s house,” I replied.

“Good,” She meant it. “Glad to see you getting out of the house.”

I smiled but was not sure how well she could see my face in the dark.

“Yeah. Night, Chika.”

“Night, Y/N.”

I showered quickly and sipped on a cup of chamomile tea before heading off to bed. After taking my night medications, one to force myself to sleep while the other blocked the never-ending nightmares, I climbed into bed. I was able to play a single game of solitaire before they both kicked in. I fell asleep with the sound of gentle rain humming in the background.

“Let’s go, guys!” I yelled, blowing my whistle.

The twelve boys waited, their small talk coming to an abrupt end. We had just finished warming up and I allowed all of them a short water break. I was a huge advocate for rest periods. No one needed to pull a muscle or fatigue early due to over working. I had a 2800-yard routine prepared, 800 of those done during our warm-ups, and the rest divided between our main set and cooldowns.

Jordan, our captain, was smiling happily. He was such an excited kid, and his positivity was contagious. While some of the boys were disappointed when I first chose him to replace our old captain after his graduation, I was sure his spirit would do everyone some good. It did not take long for the others to come around and he was beloved.

“Alright, so we have a 1600 main set. In between each of our reps, we will be doing a switch out of easy breast and backstrokes. Clear?”

“Crystal!” They all replied in unison.

“Alright. That's what I like to hear,” Flipping through my clipboard was more for show than anything. I used to rely on it heavily when I first started teaching since brain damage messed with my short-term memory, but I had been doing this long enough to know what was happening. Now it was just a way for me to write notes about their performances. “We’re starting with a 4x100 with 15-second rest; the first 25 butterfly. 3x100 with 10-second rest; again, first 25 butterfly. Following?”

No questions were asked, and a few guys voiced they were good for me to keep going.

“Good. Then we have a 2x100 with 5-second rest. First 25?”

“Butterfly,” Jordan replied.

“Thank you, Abbot. Okay, and we’re finishing up with 8x50 freestyle. Fast and easy.”

All twelve of them began to prepare to take their mark. One by one they stood on their blocks and waited for me to make the call. I admired them all for a moment. You could see the difference in each one of them. Those who were confident stood tall, their shoulders squared, and head held high. Newcomers were still figuring out their place on the team but were eager to prove themselves. Two of them would be leaving us this year, Gabriel and Marcus, and neither one of them were continuing to swim after graduation. It was a sad thought, but I was happy with how they carried themselves. They had both come a long way.

“Take your mark,” My voice echoed. Each boy got into their starting position as I watched them like a hawk. One of the freshmen, Phineas, needed major work on his form. I would talk to Jordan about it. Grabbing hold of my stopwatch, I took a deep breath. “Go!”

Marcus was the first in, like always, and I ignored him. I knew he was fully capable of taking care of himself. Phineas was the weakest link in my chain right now. He was struggling, his arms growing tired and his speed nonexistent. The other freshmen, Tobias, or as the guys called him, Twig, was not much better. He had more strength, but I chopped that up to his size. I would need to really start working some more beginner drills to get them in shape. Jordan and Gabriel would be more than happy to give up a Saturday or two to help out.

Marcus was the first one finished and I marked his time. Still a tenth of a second faster than Jordan. After Jordan came Gabriel and then Joseph and Anthony. I was disappointed in Jett’s time, but I would invite him to the weekend practices with the others. He needed some foot and hip exercises. Twig came in before Phineas, but every other boy was already out of the water by the time they made it back. Phineas was visibly upset, and I made a note to pull him to the side after practice to cheer him up.

Practices typically lasted two hours and the boys swam hard. Phineas did, in fact, perk up after I told him I was noticing tons of improvements in his performance. Twig just seemed happy he was not the worst guy in the water. After talking it out with Jordan, we decided on a good weekend time for extra practices, and I stayed behind to print off a poster and signup sheets for the rest of the boys. I had a feeling almost everyone except Marcus would show. He had a part-time job now and his weekends were full.

Sitting in my office, I poured over my observations and timecards. With a team this large I should have an extra set of hands to help with timing. I sent an email to the principal asking about helpers and got back to the nitty gritty.

All of them could work on something. Phineas might have needed the most work, Twig not far behind him, but my most seasoned swimmers had room for improvement. Jett was still struggling with maximizing propulsion, Anthony and Milo needed to get better water balance, and Gabriel’s pull could be better. Even my best swimmers, Jordan and Marcus, could use a bit of refinement in technique. It was nitpicking but they were too talented to give up on their potential.

It was close to nine when my phone began to ring. I knew it could not be any of my usual calls. Andy was working nights this week and Jin was fast asleep at home with Dani. Minho was in bed by eight, Matilda would never bother me this late, and Hoseok hated phone calls. Checking the caller ID, I was shocked to see Ozzie’s name.

“Hello?” I answered tentatively, afraid he might have called me by accident.

“Otter,” Ozzie greeted me happily. He seemed so delighted that I answered, I smiled even though I hated the nickname. “How’s life going?”

I chuckled, “Rockin’ and rollin’. Saw your girl last night. Looks great, Oz.”

“Appreciate it,” He was so dismissive of it I became interested. This was not a catch-up phone call or else he might have hooked onto the bait. My stomach twisted in anticipation. If it was not for pleasantries, then it was for work and that was something to be excited about. “Still teaching high school?”

“Mhm,” I fiddled with my pencil, papers forgotten. “My boys team is strong. I only have three girls that signed up so we’re just training during P.E. and hoping some more join.”

We chatted a bit more about the team. The longer it went on the more knots I had. Oswald was fishing for something, and I wanted to figure out what. After telling him about Phineas, I asked what the random call was about.

“Always cutting to the chase,” He joked.

I did not laugh.

“Alright, you caught me,” Ozzie sighed. “Look, the Olympic team is looking for another assistant coach and your name came up a few times.”

My mouth went dry. I had heard about Tiara Marsh leaving to focus on her family. She had a baby and stepped down a few months after coming back from maternity leave. I respected the decision and messaged her my congratulations. Ozzie had taken the lead coach position three years ago with Todd Packer as his partner. The other assistant, Drew Jones, was a sweet girl from what I heard and working with her would be a dream.

Still, it was an impossible task. Trying to imagine myself on the sidelines, coaching the next big names in sporting history with a massive squad behind me made my stomach queasy. I doubt any of them respected me. My leg was ruined, my career burned out just as quickly as it started, and I never had the chance to reach my peak. Now I am a 30-year-old washed up recluse. Just thinking about the media frenzy made my breathing get a little heavier.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Oz,” I murmured.

“I told them you wouldn’t go for it,” He replied, unsurprised. “They’re going to approach Storm Kline instead.”

“Oh,” Now I was confused. “Why’d you bring it up then?”

“Because I got to thinking,” I braced myself. Ozzie was known for his big, bright, dumb, impulsive ideas. “I knew the Olympics would be asking too much of you. Cameras and interviews are the last thing you want after the fucking circus you went through last time.”

That was an understatement. Circus did not even begin to describe the absolute hell the media put me through after the accident. So many speculations and insensitive remarks managed to ruin any peace I could have gotten during that time.

While I was in a coma, no one knowing if I would ever wake up again, the news thought it wise to harass my friends and family. My old coach, Victor Stanley, was assaulted whenever he left the hospital. When news got out that Namjoon was pulled off life support, his mother and father were so sick and tired of people parked outside their house they packed up and moved away before I even woke up. I wanted nothing to do with the media after that.

“It’s a little different but I think you’d be a great fit for the job,” Ozzie continued. “One of my boys, Jimin Park, is in need of a personal coach. His mom is sick and he’s wanting to stay in Michigan for as long as he can before coming out to the Springs to start training for Paris.

“I almost called Jung, but I don’t think the two of them would get along well enough for this to work. You’re the only person I know I can trust with him, and from what I’m hearing, you’re one hell of a coach already.”

This was somehow even more nerve wracking than the assistant position. I had never trained one-on-one before, at least, not long term. I was sure I could do it, but a high schooler was very different from an Olympic athlete relying on me to keep him in shape for the season.

“What happened to Hamilton?” I asked, still unable to wrap my head around the situation. “I thought he was Park’s personal trainer.”

“He was but the two fell out when Jimin decided to stay in Michigan. You know how Matt is.”

That I did. Matthew Hamilton was a massive asshole, and that was putting it lightly. He was one of the best trainers around and got results which was why he still had a job despite his rotten attitude. I had the misfortune of running into him quite a few times over the years and my distaste only grew with each passing. I could imagine that conversation not going over particularly well.

“But what about my team?” I asked, staring at my desk. All of my plans and strategies were mapped out and I was ready to put them to use. My boys were counting on me and leaving them felt wrong. “I don’t want to leave them high and dry, Oz.”

“Ask Hoseok to cover for you,” I rolled my eyes at his blase attitude.

“This is my team.”

“And this is Jimin Park.”

I hated that I understood where he was coming from. Most of my boys would never go off to swim professionally and their skill set was not on par with anyone out right now. They were not committed to the strict regime that would take and I did not get paid well enough to justify the extra hours. Jimin, however, would pay me extremely well and I would get that experience under my belt. I might even learn a few new things to add to my own drills.

“Give me a few days to think about it,” I finally conceded. “And set up a phone call, or meeting, or something with the kid. Need to make sure we’re on the same page before we waste one another’s time.”

Ozzie laughed, “I think you’ll get along just fine, but sure. I think he’d appreciate the gesture.”

Nothing of much importance was said after that. We hung up with promises of talking soon and then I was alone once more. My office was still just as messy and swamped with paperwork as it had been before, but it all looked different. It felt like I was already gone, and a deep homesickness settled in my chest. I stared at the papers in front of me and sighed before shooting a text to Hoseok.

As I expected, everyone had told me to jump at the opportunity. Hoseok even said if I didn’t, I would be the biggest idiot he had ever met. Matilda asked if she could come (I told her no), and Dani just seemed bummed that we could not hang out anymore. Andy and Jin were the most supportive of the situation while Minho the most cautious. He was worried about the media catching wind of something and causing a frenzy. After Matila pointed out how old news I was, I felt a little less afraid of that possibility even if it was a hit to my ego.

Ozzie seemed pumped when I told him I was open to the idea if Jimin and I seemed to mesh well. I was firm in my decision to talk to him before making any concrete plans, and from what Ozzie told me, my future student was extremely receptive to the idea. I also learned that Opal was jealous of her fellow Olympian, but I tried not to let that puff up my chest.

That was why I was sitting in my home office, hair nicely styled and a light layer of makeup on waiting for Jimin to join our Zoom call. I wore blue since Ozzie said it was his favorite color, but the material was slowly driving me insane. While the color was nice, deep blue and sparkled whenever the light hit it, it was scratchy and irritated the skin around my chest and shoulders. I almost got up to change but a small icon with the letters ‘JP’ in the center popped up before I could.

“Hello?” A soft voice called out.

“Hey,” I replied with an awkward wave. “Can you see me?”

“Yeah, can you see me?”

I shook my head, “Just your icon.”

Cursing under his breath, Jimin apologized for the tech issues. I adored how nice he was to listen to. It was unique, gentle and raspy, but also feminine in its softness. There was no bass or hardness, every sound and syllable light and airy with self-depreciating laughter after every insult he threw at himself. Apparently, Jimin was not great with technology and always had a difficult time with cyber meetings.

“This is fine with me,” I tried to reassure him. “I don’t need to see your face to talk.”

“No,” He agreed, “But it’s a little awkward for you to have your camera on and mine’s off.”

I could hear him clicking around. “I’ll turn mine off, too, if that helps.”

He shut that down immediately and continued clicking and typing. After a few more minutes, he found his problem. Then the icon was gone and there he was.

His face was round, his cheeks plump, and chin soft. The first thing I noticed about him was his lips. They were rounded and plump like a baby duck with a soft, heart shaped cupid’s bow that led up a small, button nose. Everything about his face was soft except his eyes which were almond shaped and flicked outwards like a cat’s. His hair was pitch black and parted down the middle, framing his face and making his pale skin look like snow. When he caught a glimpse of himself in the camera a large smile took over his face and I felt the wind get knocked out of me.

“Can you see me?” He asked.

I nodded, “Yeah, I think we’re in the clear.”

Neither one of us knew what to say for a moment. He swirled around in his chair in search of his water bottle. He stood up, excusing himself for a moment. He was also wearing a blue shirt, a pair of black pants, and seemed just as nervous as I did. He left the room while I sat and thought about him.

There was one word to describe Jimin: pretty. His soft lines and tiny waist made him look so much smaller than I had imagined him. All of the years seeing him on the tv did nothing to compare to watching him walk around a little room in his home. Without a cap and goggles, Jimin was angelic, and I felt uneasy. How was I supposed to work with someone I found this attractive?

“Sorry,” He was back now, a large Yeti cup in hand. “I should’ve made sure I had this already.”

“No worries. I’m not in any rush.”

He sat back down, and I finally noticed the large oval necklace he was wearing. I did not know what it could mean to him, but I had seen him with it a few times at events. It was simple and silver, no gem in the center of the pendant, and sat directly over his heart. He took a sip from his cup, snapping me back to action.

“How’s your mother doing?” I asked. “Ozzie told me she wasn’t well.”

His expression saddened me, and I hated that I brought it up. I knew how much I did not enjoy talking about Namjoon’s death, and while his mother was still alive, she was not well. Unfortunately, I could not take the question back.

“I’m not sure how much you know,” He started, leaning back in the leather computer chair. “She has melanoma and isn’t doing chemotherapy anymore. I’m staying in Michigan so I can spend as much time with her as possible.”

My heart ached for him and his family. Cancer had a reputation for ripping families apart and I could only imagine how this was affecting the young swimmer. My own grief was long and drawn out, guilt and shame hanging over my head for years before I was finally able to let it go, but the death itself was swift. Joon was dead and buried before I woke up from the coma, but I could recall every detail of that hospital room when Victor told me what happened. I hated to think about watching the life slip from him, knowing he would die, and knowing there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.

“I understand. I’m really sorry to hear that.”

I knew it was inadequate, but I did not know this man well enough to say my thoughts out loud. Maybe later, after a few weeks of training together, I could get the courage to let him know I would be there if he needed someone to talk to. I knew all about navigating grief and I would happily help him stay motivated through this horrible, tragic time. Jimin stayed quiet so I took it upon myself to get the ball rolling again.

“I know you’re going through a difficult time right now, and I just want you to know that I get it and I see you. If we work together, I will make sure your mental health comes first. Whatever you need, whatever your family needs, will always come before getting in the pool.

“You were working with Hamilton before this, and whatever happened between you two- I don’t know, that’s none of my business, but I can promise you I will try my best to make sure our professional relationship doesn’t reach that point. Just tell me what’s up and I’ll make it work.”

Jimin smiled a small, sad smile that paled in comparison to that blinding show of teeth earlier. My eyes could not help their roaming and I felt guilty. There was a chance we would be working together, and I could not feel this way about him if that time came. I could only hope that if we did decide to move forward with this arrangement, any affections I could have for him would get buried. I would have to talk to Hoseok about this.

“I have to take her to appointments once a week,” He replied, voice small and eyes staring at something off camera. “She’s not getting her chemo anymore but still goes to see her doctor often to manage symptoms as best she can. She also has a dance class every Sunday morning and I will be going with her.”

I nodded, “I can live with that. As long as you’re still putting in work you can take your mom anywhere.”

He took a deep breath and finally looked at the camera again. The vulnerability I found there took me off guard. Jimin must be someone who wears their emotions on their sleeve, and I would have to learn to nurture that. Namjoon always told me I needed to work on being more sensitive to others, a skill I had yet to master.

“Matt didn’t like how much time I spent out of the pool. I understand where he’s coming from but I’m hoping we can come up with a training schedule that works well for the both of us. I feel bad enough pulling you away from your life, and I don’t want my personal shit to bleed into what you’re going through.”

It was a kind gesture, one I appreciated, but he needed to get over it. I told him in so many words that I was happy to help him.

“Trust me,” I said. “If I didn’t want to do this then we wouldn’t be talking.”

Jimin seemed to like my bluntness and I was fond of his over-analytical anxiety. The way he fidgeted reminded me of Namjoon, his forward and direct confrontation of his emotions and needs so strikingly similar it made it nearly impossible for me to dislike him. I don’t think a person alive could dislike this man.

“I can be in Ann Arbor next week,” Jimin had gone on another rant about inconveniencing me and I shut it down. “Everything here is already squared away. We can discuss it more later, how does that sound?”

He smiled wearily, his nerves causing him to squirm in his seat.

“I’m really looking forward to working with you, Y/N.”

I hoped my expression looked as sincere as I felt, “I’ll take care of you, kiddo.”

Pulling a face, Jimin laughed heartily. Triumphant, I smiled brazenly, his laughter contagious. I made a note to pull out a few age jokes now and then if it meant making him smile like that.

“I’m an adult man, I’ll have you know,” He was still laughing.

“Could’ve fooled me,” I teased.

“We’re going to get along just fine,” He seemed more confident than ever, and it warmed my heart. “Let me know when you’re expected to get here. Do you have my number?”

We exchanged our contact details. After days of talking over email, I finally found a smiley face emoji in my notifications, a Michigan area code attached. Saving his number, I replied with the old woman emoji earning myself another laugh.

“Talk to you later, Park.”

“See you, coach.”

I left the meeting, my chest much lighter after talking to him. He was a sweet man and not half bad to look at. I was a few years older but not disgustingly so, and he was more than available from the sound of things. Realizing the direction my thoughts were going in, I stood up from the chair to start writing out some drills and scheduling prototypes. Before I could get out of the door, however, my phone vibrated in my hand.

Jimin: 👶

I did not respond until I had my flight booked.

Me: I’m flying in on Tuesday. Know a good place to stay?

He replied a few minutes later.

Jimin: Do you need a lot of space?

Me: Not really

Jimin: One of my neighbors has their mother-in-law suite for rent. I could probably cut you a good deal with them.

I smiled. He really was a sweetheart.

Me: Thank you. And no deals. I can pay for myself.

Jimin: My mother would be very upset if I didn’t at least try.

Jimin: I was raised to respect the elderly.

I laughed out loud, thoroughly amused. I had a feeling he was testing the waters after I poked fun at him earlier. Jimin was probably used to the stick stuck up Hamilton’s ass. He was in for a treat. At the pool I was cool and collected but I could cut up with the best of them.

Me: Sorry, couldn’t hear you over the sound of my hip breaking

I was practically giddy with excitement waiting for his response. It had been such a long time since someone joked around with me like this. Hoseok tried but he was awful at taking a joke, so I stopped poking the bear. It was refreshing and all too familiar.

Jimin: I’ll get you one of those life alerts just in case.

Was he flirting with me? Did I care? Shrugging, I went along with it. I would remain strictly professional while we worked together, but if things developed after that I would let them. Happily. I barely knew this guy, but I remember this feeling. It was the first time since Joon’s death that it showed itself to me and I wanted to hold onto it.

First work then play, I told myself.

Who knows? This little bit of infatuation could fade just as quickly as it came, and I would leave Ann Arbor with a new friend instead. Might even be able to score a steady job with the kid if things worked out. My life in Colorado would remain untouched, my friends happily accepting a new kid in the group when he came to visit, and my house just as bare and empty as it always had been. The years continuing to pass me by.

I tried not to think about why that thought made me want to cry.

“I told you I’m fine,” I sighed into the phone, waiting at the baggage claim for my things. “You’re in rare form today.”

Andrea laughed, the sound slightly hysterical and I winced. That was the wrong thing to say, but she was driving me insane. I had traveled around the world multiple times, and she was acting like Michigan was going to kill me.

“Well excuse me for worrying,” Andy bit back, her tone clipped and harsh.

“I’m sorry,” I heaved one of my bags off the conveyor belt. “I know you’re just looking out for me, but I promise you I’m fine Andrea. You’ll be my first phone call if that changes.”

The other bag finally popped up and I quickly snatched it. Slinging the large duffle bag over my shoulder, I adjusted it until it rested comfortably on my shoulders. Lifting the handlebar off my large suitcase, I drug it behind me while I followed the signs for the exit. Jimin said he arranged for someone to pick me up but did not specify who. He was busy with a few interviews this morning and could not get me himself. He had been very disappointed about it.

“I know I’m nagging,” Andy groaned. “Scratch that. I’m acting like a total helicopter parent.”

I laughed, “Your husband had been even worse. The man tried to book me a charter flight because he was worried about my leg in an airport. What the fuck does that even mean?”

Everyone had been super happy for me, especially my team. Those boys almost cried when I told them who I was helping out and Jordan begged me to bring him back something autographed. None of them seemed as familiar with my own background but I was fine with that. All of them took to Hoseok rather well, except for Marcus who made me swear to come back before school let out. I did not tell them I was planning to make monthly trips to give Jimin some space with his mom. I was sure that surprise would go over very, very well.

Despite his indifference when I was first talking about the job, Seokjin became an overprotective dad as soon as I made him aware my flights were booked. He was quick to cancel them and put in a few calls of his own. Jin was an operations manager for Delta airlines and knew plenty of pilots. He was able to get me a plane to land in Willow Run out in Ypsilanti, but I quickly intervened and told him a normal flight was perfect. I rebooked my tickets and flew into Detroit Metro at 10 am.

Andy snorted, “He means well.”

It was snowing in Michigan, and I was finally hit with the realization that I would be seeing far more of it here than I ever did back in Colorado. It was only mid-September, so it was still light and melted away quickly. I would have to ask Jimin if it stayed this calm into December, but I had a feeling things would pick up by late November.

It was a very cold morning in Detroit, and I was excited to get into a heated car. Getting off the phone with Andy, I quickly sent Jimin a quick text message letting him know I was outside and looking for my ride. A loud honk made my jump, almost dropping my phone in the process.

Pulled up at the curb was a navy-blue Volkswagen Beetle. I could tell from its body that it was an older model, and it was a convertible. Sitting behind the wheel was a little old lady, a pair of gardening gloves on her hands and a pair of large, hexagon sunglasses taking up most of her face. Her face was familiar, and it hit me. Sitting behind that wheel was Jimin’s mother.

She smiled at me and waved, beckoning me closer to the little car. I forced myself to smile back. My nerves made it feel damn near impossible, but I managed. Opening the door, I did not know where to put my things. The backseat was so small.

“There’s a lever on that side that’ll push it up. You should be able to get everything to fit if you try hard enough.”

Fumbling around, I finally found the little handle and pulled up. The seat lurched forward, folding in on itself, and I clumsily shoved my suitcase into the backseat. It smelled like stale cigarettes and fake pine, but when you had a car this old it usually had history. I was excited to pick up my new car from the dealership. My Porsche already had a difficult time driving around Colorado and I did not think it would survive the heavy winters in Michigan, so I decided to leave it home and get an Altima. I had the money and could easily get rid of it. Tilly had been talking about needing an upgrade.

Finally managing to get both bags into the backseat, I put the seat back and got into the car. Closing the door, I sighed in content. The heaters were at full blast and pointed directly at my cold face. Buckling my seatbelt, I leaned back and tried to relax after the long day of flying. Jimin’s mother pulled off the curb.

“It’s cold out there,” She laughed, her voice just as sickeningly sweet as her son’s. “Glad you were able to make it okay.”

I nodded, “I’m surprised to see it snowing so early. We don’t usually get anything until closer to Thanksgiving.”

“Colorado, right?” I could hear a faint accent and I remembered that Jimin was first-generation Korean American. Both of his parents moved to the states before he and his brother were born. Media outlets loved talking about it, but I was not sure how much he enjoyed discussing his personal life. While he came off as a sweet and mild-mannered man, he kept his personal life private. “I’ve heard it’s very pretty.”

“It is. Too expensive, but very, very pretty.”

Then she was fiddling around with the radio, and I finally cracked a genuine smile. I was not sure how much work had been done on her car, but I was positive the sound system had been completely redone. A brand-new radio, complete with a touch screen and Bluetooth, lit up at the touch of her fingers. A man’s voice serenaded us through the updated speakers, and I was in awe at how beautiful it sounded. I assumed he was speaking Korean and Jimin’s mother sang along fluently.

“What’s your name again?” She asked once the song was over. Another, more upbeat song started, and she increased the volume. “Jimin told me but I’m horrible with that sort of thing. I’m Na-Yeon, but Audrey works if it’s easier for you.”

I pulled a face, “Audrey?”

“It’s my American name. It’s easier for people to pronounce and more convenient. All of us have one. Jimin’s is Christian.”

It was odd to think about. A name that was mine but not mine. Christian did not suit Jimin, but I could imagine growing up with a name that other people made fun of would be difficult. Maybe even impossible. Still, I did not feel comfortable calling the woman Audrey. She did not seem to particularly care for the name and I did not want to alienate myself from their circle for convenience's sake.

Namjoon’s mother had been similar to Na-Yeon, always afraid her culture and customs would make me uncomfortable or burdened, but I managed to calm her fears and reassure her after years of showing up to Chuseok with a smile on my face and food in my hands.

“I like Na-Yeon,” I finally replied, voice small. “It’s nice. I’m Y/N.”

“I like Y/N,” She echoed back to me, making me grin. “It’s nice.”

It was a long drive filled with K-pop, ballads, and sporadic conversation. Na-Yeon was very funny. She sang along to every song, dancing as she went, and calling on me to sing alone. Of course, I could not speak Korean very well and hummed the melodies instead, but it appeased her. When she did speak to me it was to ask me questions about myself.

“You’re that swimmer, aren’t you?” She asked, sparing me a look once we stopped at a redlight. “The one everyone’s trying to beat.”

I shook my head, “At one time, sure, but not anymore. I’m retired.”

Squinting her eyes at me, Na-Yeon pursed her lips.

“We used to watch you. Haru called you a mermaid.”

That was not too much of a shock. Jimin was swimming at that time. While I am a few years older than him, he would have been in middle school when I went to my first Olympics. He had told me he joined the swim team the year before. He said that watching Michael Phelps win 6 gold medals changed his life forever, and I could not help but agree with him. I had a huge amount of respect for my fellow Olympian and wished him well in his retirement. What shocked me the most was the mention of Jimin’s little brother. The dead brother.

“That’s sweet,” I did not know what to say. “I felt like a mermaid back then. I’m not that good anymore but I still like to swim sometimes.”

“You were in an accident,” It was not a question. “We saw it all over the news. Couldn’t believe all of those people harassing your family like that. So sorry for your loss.”

It was strange to talk about it again. I appreciated her keeping it vague. I had gone through a tremendous amount of change and growth since then, but it was nice to hear someone else validate how crazy the media frenzy was. I would not wish it upon anyone, and I was happy her family was allowed to grieve in peace. Neither Namjoon’s nor my own were allowed that luxury.

“Thank you,” I replied. “I’m sorry about Haru. I can’t imagine what your family went through.”

She smiled sadly, “I think you can.”

We did not talk much after that. The music still played, Na-Yeon still sang, and I still hummed, but we did not ask any more questions. Neither one of us wanted to bring up those hurt feelings. It was not until we turned down a long, empty road that I realized I had yet to ask her about her cancer.

“Are you feeling okay?” I asked.

“As good as I can,” She breathed. “My boys are both worriers so don’t take anything they say to heart. Bunch of hypochondriacs.”

And even though I laughed along with her, I knew that she was lying. They were not overreacting. She was sick, refusing treatments, and letting herself die. Anyone would be worried about her. Na-Yeon must dislike being taken care of. Well, I thought she would need to get used to it. I loved spoiling others.

“Eloise and the kids must be here,” She muttered to herself, pulling to a short driveway.

I did not know who Eloise was, but I would soon find that out. There were two cars parked out front. One was a simple, black Tahoe with a brightly colored steering wheel cover. The other was another vintage model. Painted a pretty light, muted green the truck was in pristine condition. It was an old Ford, the branding written across the tailgate, and a spare tire was bolted to the side. I asked Na-Yeon about it and she smiled happily.

“It’s Jimin’s,” I felt my heart rate increase. “He must’ve gotten back. Pretty thing, huh?”

I nodded, not really paying attention to the truck anymore. I was about to meet Jimin for the first time and my nerves were taking over. I knew how much his looks affected me over video chat and I was afraid I would not be able to control my facial expressions in person. I was resolute not to act on whatever attraction I may have felt toward him. My professionalism would not allow it. It did not mean, however, that I wanted to discuss it with Jimin at any point. It would make him uncomfortable and affect our working environment.

“Keep your bags in the car,” Na-Yeon told me. “Jimin’s going to take you over to meet the Andersons this afternoon.”

Walking up to the house, I was first struck by two things. The main one being the impressive teal it was painted and the other the loud talking and laughter coming from inside. It was odd. Thinking about my own parents I knew we had never been so happy. Mom had left when I was so young that I could hardly remember her, but I could recall the screaming and shouting. Dad was quiet after she left, spent most of his time locked away in the garage watching sports channels and leaving me to my own devices.

When I started swimming it helped for a time, but when I was old enough to leave, we spoke two or three times a year. After he met Danielle, his new wife, he stopped reaching out altogether. The accident had spooked him enough to warrant holiday and birthday calls for a time, but when he had another baby those slowly faded away. My half-sister and I had never met, Danielle did not like acknowledging that my dad had a child with another woman, and it seemed as though my dad was fine with how things turned out. I dealt with it.

The laughing echoed through the house, and I could hear loud foot-steps pitter pattering on the tile floors. The house smelled heavily of kimchi and lemons making my heart ache. Joon and I used to keep the windows open for days after his mother came over to make kimchi with him. We would squat on the floor for hours, laughing and talking. I missed those days more than I realized and I smiled involuntarily. For the first time in years, it felt like coming home.

“Sorry about the smell,” Na-Yeon whispered to me.

I shook my head and took my shoes off. “I love kimchi.”

She smiled brightly, her shoulders immediately relaxing. I was glad I had spent so much time with Namjoon and his family. Na-Yeon was someone who wanted to make others feel more comfortable even if it put her own peace at risk, but I would never ask her to change her routine for me. I loved learning about other people and her little house brought me more happiness than I thought possible.

“Sounds like we have company!”

A short, stocky man came into the living room. He was wearing a white polo shirt and khaki shorts; his hair was very short with silver streaks starting to take over the once very black strands. Catching sight of me he smiled.

“You must be Y/N,” The man said. “I’m James.”

His accent was much thicker than Na-Yeon’s and he introduced himself in his English name. He seemed much happier about it than his wife did, and I decided to go along with it. If he wanted me to call him James, then I would.

“Nice to meet you,” I replied, giving him a small bow.

His smile got even bigger somehow, and he returned the gesture. Na-Yeon chuckled beside me and started to speak to her husband in Korean. I picked up a few words and deduced that he was supposed to make sure I was going to get a nice lunch, and she wanted to know if he had taken care of it. He nodded and told her he had.

“Hungry?” James asked, Na-Yeon already disappearing into the house.

“Yes,” I quickly followed behind him.

“I made jjigae,” He frowned. “I can’t say it in English. Sorry.”

The house was small and warmly lit. Cream tile flooring, exposed wood beams, and white walls. Whatever loud conversation they had been having before I got here had died down, but the footsteps did not. I could hear children giggling somewhere in the little home and my curiosity peaked. I did not think they were Na-Yeon and James’s.

“I want to say it’s soup,” I kept my voice down not wanting to make him feel awkward. “Or stew, but I don’t think it matters that much.”

“What’s the difference?” James asked, just as amused as his wife at my vague knowledge of Korean words. “Soup and stew the same, no?”

I shrugged, “I have no clue. I’m a miserable cook.”

That made James laugh. We passed all of the rooms in the house, the kitchen, living room, and dining room all in the back of the house. As we passed the second room to the left, James said it had been Haru’s photography studio before he passed away, but they ended up converting it once Eloise gave birth. He did not say it out loud, but I had gathered the kids running around had been their youngest son’s. I did not know how old Haru had been when he died, but it was far too young to be having children. I was 31 and still felt ill equipped for the job.

It was a small kitchen with very simple and plain colors. The countertops were obviously laminate, but someone had taken the time to stick on a marble patterning to make it look nicer. Black appliances clashed with the chestnut cabinets. The tiles were no longer cream but hideous black and white checker printed that clashed heavily against the olive-green backsplash. While the rest of the house seemed to go through renovations at some point, I had a feeling the kitchen remained largely untouched.

Sitting at a small table on the other side of the room were Na-Yeon, Jimin, and a young woman. She was a cute girl, long brown hair and blue eyes, a large number of freckles across her cheeks. Her outfit was very modest, a pair of flowy cream pants and an equally flowy olive shirt. Her hair was tied back with a ribbon that matched her pants, and taking a closer look at her, she wore no makeup. A classic girl next door.

“Come sit,” Na-Yeon waved me over, her voice showing no room for argument. “Hyun-Soo is in charge of lunch.”

I was only briefly confused, the name completely unfamiliar, but by the time I sat down I was sure she was talking about James. It made sense for her to call him by his Korean name, and since I had shown no qualms about using their proper names, she saw no need to bring them up herself.

“Nice to finally meet you,” Jimin’s sweet voice reached me, and I smiled at the sound. “I hope getting here wasn’t too bad.”

He reached out to me, and I happily took his hand in my own. The skin was soft, perfectly smooth, and warm. It was over far too quickly but my displeasure was easily hidden. Andrea always complained about my poker face and how difficult it was to get past it. She said it was too good and thus refused to ever play poker with me again.

“It was nice,” I meant it. Na-Yeon was wonderful company.

“Hope the concert was nice.”

That made me and Eloise laugh. Na-Yeon smacked Jimin’s arm playfully, unable to keep the smile off her face, and the two began to bicker. Having them in the same room highlighted the differences I hadn't noticed before. Jimin’s nose was closer to his father’s, his eyes, too, and both of them had a slight lisp. Na-Yeon’s teeth were perfectly white and straight while one of Jimin’s front teeth was slightly chipped. Jimin had a dimple; his mother had none. Their English soon turned to digs in Korean and I could no longer follow. A few words here and there but nothing substantial. James joined them.

“Hi,” Eloise shyly greeted me, obviously used to being left out of conversations.

“Hey,” I replied lamely. “Eloise?”

She nodded, “Cam and Harper are playing but you’ll meet them in a bit.”

I nodded along and cemented the names into memory. It would look bad if I forgot them and kids had an ability to remember the worst things about a person. I did not want them to dislike me this quickly. Their giggles and feet were still going, and I suspected they had their own rooms on top of the little playroom in the hall.

“What do you do for work?” I asked Eloise, hoping my attempts at small talk were going over well. The other three were still chatting and I stopped paying attention long enough to be completely lost. Their dialect was different from Namjoon’s family, and I gave up entirely once they switched in and out of it with ease.

“I’m taking over Audrey’s restaurant,” Eloise, it seemed, preferred to use their American names. I wondered if she called Jimin ‘Christian.’ I really did not like the name for him. Not at all. “We used to be co-owners but she’s preparing for…” Eloise’s eyebrows scrunched together as she struggled to come up with a way to voice her thoughts, “her next steps. You know what I mean?”

I nodded. It was so easy to forget why I was really here when Na-Yeon was so full of life. She laughed and joked easily, sang off-key in the car without a care in the world, and called the shots at home. I had hardly noticed any sickness, but I knew better. I already figured out she hated being cared for and our trip in the car could have taken a lot of her. More than I realized.

Wanting to change the subject, I asked about the kids. Eloise was more than happy to talk about her little ones. Cameron and Harper were twins, names that she had originally been very against but when she lost Tony (Haru preferred his American name, Anthony, and all of his closest friends called him Tony), her opinions changed. Harper was the bigger, older baby, while her brother needed to stay in the NICU for a few days after birth due to his weight. They were joined at the hip and rarely seen without the other, something Eloise was happy about given she was usually too busy to spend as much time with them as she would have liked.

“How old are they?” I asked.

“Almost 4.”

Jimin was 19 then. I shuddered to think about how old Haru was, or Eloise for that matter when they became parents. When I was their age, I had been at the top of my game, though not what I would call my prime. If I had gotten pregnant my career would not have been over, but meeting Joon never would have happened. That was a travesty regardless of how things turned out. Trying to picture a life without him touching it made me physically ill and so I pushed any of those thoughts away.

Cam and Harper came out of their room when dinner was ready. They were both very cute, loud, and dressed identically. Harper’s hair was braided down her back while Cam’s was in a bowl cut, and I laughed every time the little girl made a big show about her sparkly red shoes.

James made a very spicy fish stew. It was delicious, so salty and hot, but I needed multiple glasses of water as I ate. He used red snapper adding a sweet, nutty flavor to the otherwise savory dish and I loved the zucchini. Like many Korean meals there was an array of side dishes surrounding the large pot of stew. Tonight was braised potatoes, steamed eggplant, a radish salad, and, of course, kimchi. A small bowl of rice was given to all of us to eat the stew with and the rice cooker was filled if any of us wanted more.

The Parks were a lovely family. Jimin was quiet and did not talk to me much but his mother more than made up for his silence. After getting all of the details about my coaching job she moved on to my life back in Colorado. We talked about my friends and what they were like, my house, and even my neighbors. Na-Yeon seemed particularly interested in Hoseok since Jimin had been such a fan of his growing up.

“You need to get her over to Calvin and Violet’s,” James told his son, scraping up the last bit of the soup out of his bowl. “They’re expecting her soon.”

Jimin looked at me, eyebrow raised, “Are you ready?”

I nodded, “We can leave whenever you’re done.”

He smiled and went back to eating his meal. Eloise left before I did, Cam was tired and Harper was bored without her playmate, so she decided it was time they went home. Cam liked an afternoon nap still, but his sister could run all day if you let her. Harper gave me a big bear hug before she left, something Na-Yeon said she did to everyone, and held her brother’s hand on their way out.

Na-Yeon eventually got up from the table, James followed after her, leaving Jimin and I alone. I did not know what to say, if he wanted me to say anything at all. He had hardly spoken to me since I arrived, and it left me feeling out of place. I was here for him, and he wanted nothing to do with me. He kept eating, the spice unfazed him, and getting bowl after bowl of rice.

Watching him walk around I was struck by how short he was. Most male swimmers were huge, well over 6 feet, and broadly built. Not Jimin. He could not be any taller than 5’9” with a thin, tiny waist. I could see defined muscles hidden underneath his white t-shirt, but nothing spectacular. Even his body was soft and elegant, moving gracefully and quietly, and absolutely none of it would give away that he was a world-class athlete. As if he could feel my eyes following him, Jimin’s eyes snapped to meet my own.

“Sorry,” He pulled his spoon from his mouth. “I’m sure you’d like to leave and here I am gorging myself.”

I stopped him before he could stand, “No, no. I’m fine. I was just thinking about your workout routine.”

The lie felt heavy on my tongue, but I could hear how natural it sounded. He sat back down and took another bite of his food. His workout regime was standard for most swimmers. Pull-ups, bench, squat, lunge, power cleans, power cleans to overhead press. After that he was in the pool for a few hours before going about his day. He usually added in another swim at the end of the day, but he had recently given it up to have dinner with his family.

“What are you doing for your core?” I asked.

“I stick to pull ups, crunches, thrusts, and back extensions.”

I nodded, frowning, gears in my head turning. I have always believed the core was the most important part of swimming. Arms as well, but I have seen many overwork those muscles and lose from weak turns. Hoseok used to joke about my performance and how I only won because of my turns. I would make sure he would be able to see a little bit of me in Jimin’s swimming. There was a reason I won gold.

“You don’t look very impressed.”

I chuckled, “Just thinking. You need more variety than that.”

“Gym snob, are we?” His mouth stretched into a playful smirk, and I could not help but smile back. “You must be an animal in there.”

“I don’t work out like I used to,” I admitted, averting my eyes. “Most of my exercises are yoga and running now. I swim twice a week.”

I was hoping to get back in the pool more often, but I was not sure I was ready for the disappointment that would follow. My sessions with Emery were simple, exercise-focused, and had little to no expectations behind them. They were there to help me gain strength and confidence in myself. Saturdays were spent with Hoseok doing laps around the pool and shooting the shit. It was just enough to get your heart pumping but never went past that.

Failing was daunting. I could not remember a time before swimming consumed my life. My dad always said I was afraid of the water; it was the biggest reason he placed me in lessons. He did not have the time (nor patience) to teach me himself, and after I saw younger children getting into the pool I was determined to act like a “big girl.” I was only three at the time, so the memory was lost to time, but I went every week after that. It gave my dad a break and I had friends for the first time. I learned later that mom had left for a few months and dad was drinking again, but at the time all I knew was that I liked swimming, and I was good at it.

It was frightening to believe that all of the time, energy, and hard work went to waste. 30 seconds. That was all it took to destroy my life. 30 seconds and all of my joy, love, and happiness was gone. My career, my health, and my Joon. I hated the man who hit us. Hated the way his family cried for me. For him. For Joon. Squeeze my hands into fists, I was glad they were hidden underneath the table. Getting in the water and realizing it was truly over would only make that hatred worsen, and my therapist told me I needed to let go of my anger.

“Violet and Calvin are excited to meet you,” I did not know if Jimin could see something in his face, perhaps my eyes, but he changed the subject. The look on his face made me feel exposed. “We should get going.”

No one was around when I left so I did not get to say goodbye, but Jimin yelled that we were leaving. We did not get a response and I wondered if his mother had actually gone to do laundry or take a nap. She looked tired when she left the table. Jimin told me to get into the truck and laughed when I said I could grab my own bags.

“Your hip might give out, granny.”

Off guard, a strange, loud noise came out of my mouth. He had yet to start up our playful banter and my heart soared. Jimin was a very cheeky man, his tongue sharp, and with a quick snapback time, he was difficult to take down. Our text exchanges were always brief and about work, but he managed to squeeze in at least one teasing comment about my age. He said calling him ‘kiddo’ is what started the whole thing.

“Just get in the truck,” He sighed melodramatically, rolling his eyes.

Huffing, I went across the lawn and got into the unlocked truck on the curb. The interior was just as refurbished as the exterior. The bench was covered in a dark green vinyl, and I could tell the rubber carpet mats were new. It smelled much better in Jimin’s truck. Less like cigarettes and more like the cologne he wore. It was floral, powdery, but with a subtle spice that made it bitter-sweet. It had a nice scent. It suited a man like Jimin whose own spice was buried underneath his pretty visage.

Watching him jog across the yard, I suppressed a sigh. It was easier to ignore how pretty he was when we were around other people. Now it felt impossible. His clothes stuck to him like a second skin, the black leather pants (which I had only just noticed were leather) making his thighs bulge and accentuating his backside. He was gorgeous and I felt sorry that I would have to keep it to myself. Jimin deserved to be told things like that, but it was not my place to do so. Not as a coach, trainer, or otherwise.

He tossed my things into the cab of the truck as if they weighed nothing. Arms lifted; his shirt rose revealing a delicious patch of skin. Watching him in the rearview mirror, I swallowed audibly. A thin, almost nonexistent patch of hair touched his belly button. Forcing myself to look away, I took a few deep breaths.

This trip was going to be long. Very, very long.

The drive down the road was quiet. Jimin’s radio was out, and he needed to replace it, so music was not an option, and he did not seem to want to fill the space between us. Neither did I. My growing bashfulness around him was distracting and strange. I had always been surrounded by attractive men, all of my friends back home were very good looking, but none affected me in the same way Jimin had. Perhaps it was due to my relationship with Namjoon that made all of the other men pale in comparison, but I could never know for sure. Either way, it was incredibly frustrating.

We drove for less than ten minutes. Calvin and Violet were the elderly couple renting out the small house in their backyard. Jimin had spoken to them for me, and they were all too willing to help me out. Violet nearly cried when I told her I was going to pay all of my rent up front, and actually did when I told her that I would help her fix up some things around the house while I was in town. The Andersons seemed like lovely people, and I was happy to know them.

Pulling up to the house I smiled. It was exactly how I imagined it would be. The Anderson house was a simple, All-American home with a front porch. The window trimming was black, house white, and a beautiful garden wrapped around the front at either side. The roof and front door were the same color green as Jimin’s truck, and it helped the otherwise unnoteworthy home feel more inviting. Sitting on the porch swing was Violet, her silver hair braided down her shoulder.

“Before we get out,” Jimin mumbled, waving at Violet through my window. The old woman waved back, a large smile on her face making her look twenty years younger. “The Andersons are great people, but Calvin’s starting to forget stuff. Violet won’t admit it but it’s getting hard on her to deal with him. He can become very angry so keep an ear out. Last time he had an episode, Violet called my dad crying. She’s not handling it well.”

I frowned, my heart hurting, “Sure thing. I’ll let you know if anything happens.”

“Thanks.”

He was out of the car a few seconds later, voice so sweet and bubbly you would have never guessed what we had been talking about. Staring after him, my eyes squinted. I would have to keep my eye on him. Jimin was a great actor.

Getting out of the truck, I took out my bags and slung my duffle on my back. Jimin was quick to take my suitcase away once he caught me in the corner of his eye. Violet seemed positively giddy about it and made a few inappropriate comments about Jimin needing to settle down.

“I’m just saying,” She laughed when Jimin scoffed, face flushing the prettiest shade of pink. “You’re going to make a young woman very happy. Might as well get started.”

It was strange to think about my trainee seeing someone. He had made it very clear in his interviews over the years that his dating life was on hold until he was finished swimming. He did not want the added distraction and his family life was far too chaotic for him to focus on someone. This did not seem to deter Violet and her comments about his love life, or lack thereof, continued until we got inside of the house.

“Well,” Violet acknowledged me for the first time since I arrived, “This is the main house. It’s not much but it’ll work. Christian, take her stuff out back.”

I cringed. It really did not suit Jimin at all, but he seemed completely unfazed. Violet used his names interchangeably, sometimes calling him Jimin and other times Christian, but his English name rolled off her tongue more often than not. I wondered why she even bothered calling him Jimin at all. He did not seem to care either way.

Looking around the little house, I was pleasantly surprised by how clean it all was. The floors were carpeted and the walls a bright white, family photos hung up alongside landscape paintings. During my two-hour phone call with Violet, the woman talked my ear off, she bragged about Calvin’s art. I had to admit they were all very beautiful and I wanted to know where he had found all of the slices of heaven he captured. I hoped the places themselves were more colorful than he depicted. The muted washes of color made them blend in with the rest of the boring house even with how nice they were.

The furniture was just as boring as the house itself. All of it was cream or beige, nothing of importance really stuck out to me, and I was disappointed. All I could figure out about the couple was one was an artist and they had children and grandchildren they loved displaying. Even the smell of the house lacked character. No air freshener, no food, and no perfumes. Nothing to give away that people actually lived here. The Anderson home was a foil to the Park’s in every way.

“Come on out back,” Violet was already across the house, standing in front of a door beside the kitchen. “This is the utility room. You can do your laundry here.”

Following behind her, I felt even more depressed looking at her kitchen. It was nice, new appliances and a pretty coffee station on the corner closest to the utility room door, but it was bland. All white cabinets, white marble countertops, and stainless steel everything. Even the curtains hanging around the windows above the sink were dreadfully plain.

The utility room, like everything else, was plain. The washer and dryer were white, the floor concrete, and the shelving barebones. The detergent was the most colorful thing I saw since arriving. Somehow even this room smelled like absolutely nothing. Directly across from the door we entered was the backdoor and Violet told me where they would hide a key for me to be able to get inside.

“Ready to see it?” She asked, smiling politely.

I nodded, “Thanks again for renting it out to me.”

She chuckled, “No thanks needed. You were paying, that was enough for me to say yes.”

The back porch was tiny, just barely big enough for the both of us to stand on. There was a small vegetable garden along the side of the house, but it was empty. Noticing my wandering eyes, Violet told me all about the turnips and gourds she had been planting this season. She had watermelon and tomatoes in the summer, but they were long gone. The rest of the yard was taken up by my home for the next few months.

It was small, but that was to be expected. What disappointed me, though I should have not been very surprised, was how white it was. The windows were a dark gray, a small porch was set up with enough room for one of those hanging egg chairs, and two built-in planters. They were empty and Violet told me I was welcome to give gardening a chance if I was interested. She was planning on growing some flowers eventually, but she was not sure what she wanted.

The front door was open, Jimin already inside, and Violet and I went in. There was a small entryway, two doors leading to rooms I would explore later, and a small shoe rack. I took mine off and put them up. Violet watched me and took hers off as well.

“Audrey told me I should put one in here,” I was learning that Violet enjoyed meaningless small talk. “Glad I did. Don’t think Christian took his shoes off, though.”

I shrugged, “No biggie. I was going to clean up around here anyway.”

The house opened up to my right and I was happy with the space. I had a fully functional kitchen and enough space for my coffee cabinet along the wall. The living room would be able to fit a small loveseat, television, and coffee table. It was white and plain, but I was very happy with the floors. Whoever picked out the dark vinyl flooring must have had me in mind. I would go crazy if this place was as sterile as the Andersons’.

“I put your stuff in your room.”

Turning I grinned at Jimin. It was sweet of him to help me out. I was going to pick up my car tomorrow morning and he had volunteered to drive me. We would be starting our training next week so I could have some time to settle in. All of my furniture was arriving either tomorrow or the day after and my hands would be full. I was counting on Jimin and his friends to help me unpack. His manager was going to make himself known as well, but would not be staying for long. Apparently, according to Jimin, Sejin was not one to get his hands dirty.

“Thank you.”

“I’ll let you get settled in,” Violet was already scratching to leave, and I wondered why. She had been very hospitable over the phone. “You’re welcome to join us for dinner. Calvin is going to bring the air mattress out here tonight, so you have someplace to sleep.”

With a kiss on Jimin’s cheek, Violet slipped on her flats and left. Alone with Jimin again, I found it hard to speak. We were much better over text. Looking just as lost as I was, Jimin scratched the back of his neck and looked down.

“My, uh, my mom offered you her couch if you want it,” He stuttered, his face turning red. “Or, uh, um, you can take the spare room at my place,” He let out a huge gust of wind. “It’s a bit of a drive but I do have the space.”

Flustered, I quickly declined, “Thanks but I’ll be fine here.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jimin shook his head, the redness spreading down his neck. “For sure. Totally.”

The air was awkward now and I could not figure out how to fix it. Jimin was the one always breaking the ice between us, and now that he was acting like this I was stranded at sea. Even when he warned me he was more reserved in person I had not expected this. He was so quiet and skittish. How was I supposed to work with him if I could not get the courage to speak?

“Thanks for the offer,” I cleared my throat. “Are you staying for dinner?”

He shook his head, “I promised Jungkook we’d go out tonight. Any other time I’d say yes.”

I asked my disappointment. The thought of spending time with Violet and Calvin alone made me deeply uncomfortable. Their house felt like a hospital room and her weird behavior was unsettling. I could only hope Calvin was nicer but from what Jimin said he was a ticking time bomb. It would be nice to have someone act as a buffer.

“Why was she acting so strangely?” I asked, hoping Jimin had picked up on it as well. “It was like a totally different person.”

He frowned, “I think she’s just on edge since Calvin went to the doctor’s today. Their daughter took him, and she hasn’t heard anything. She’s a sweet woman, don’t worry.”

Now I felt like an asshole.

“That’s understandable,” I murmured. “Do you think she’ll be upset if I order food for all of us? If she’s stressed out, I don’t want her feeling like she has to cook for me.”

Jimin smiled, “She would appreciate it. I’ll go talk to her, how does that sound?”

I nodded, grateful. “That would be nice. The house gives me the creeps.”

That made him laugh, “What? Why?”

I shrugged, giggling with him.

“Feels like a funeral home or something. I hate the minimalist aesthetic.”

Jimin bit his lip, “You’d probably hate my place, too, then.”

I chuckled. It was easy to imagine Jimin inside of a huge modern house, dark wood and barely anything in it. He was a single man, busy, and spent so much time at his parent’s house it did not matter what he had inside of his own place. Not wanting to make him self conscious, I bit my tongue.

“I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

He cocked his head to the side, and I laughed.

“Fine,” I conceded. “I would probably dislike it, but I don’t think it looks like a white padded cell.”

I may have been exaggerating a bit, but it was not that far off from how the Anderson home looked to me. I hoped by asking me to help fix up a few things, Violet meant giving the house a much-needed makeover. If I was lucky, I might be able to convince her to get a few throw pillows to break up the monotony.

“Jeez,” Jimin laughed. “Harsh critic.”

“Well, is it?” I joked, glad to have found our footing again.

“No,” He shook his head in thought. “It’s mostly gray and black, but still just as empty. Probably emptier, honestly. I don’t have as many pictures as Violet does.”

Smirking, he snapped his fingers, “My trophy room is pretty colorful. I have a lot of pictures and shit in there.”

That made me smile. I was not bringing any of my memorabilia here, but it was nice to hear him sound so proud of himself. I kept most of my competition stuff in my basement, a large China cabinet displaying all of my awards. My favorite had to be the small, cheaply made trophy sat at the very top. It was beside my Olympic medals, worn and dull beside the beautiful necklaces, but I loved it all the same.

It was the first trophy I ever won. I was seven and my dad convinced me to sign up for a swimming competition my swim class was hosting. He promised to come. I practiced a lot preparing for it and made use of the new above ground pool my dad had bought. I won the race. My own joy and happiness made me forget that he never showed up until it was time to go home. I had to wait with my coach for two hours, and by the end of it she felt so bad for me she took me out for ice cream. Dad never apologized, I don’t even think he acknowledged that I won at all, and I never tried to bring it up again. Still, I loved that stupid thing. It was the reason I wanted to compete. That little pocket of happiness between winning and realizing that no one cared was precious to me and I held onto it.

“I need to get going,” Jimin sighed, reaching into his back pocket and snapping me out of my thoughts. “Jungkook’s blowing up my phone. Just got broken up with and needs a drinking buddy.”

I sucked in air through my teeth, “Well, your services are needed. Don’t let me hold you up.”

Jimin smiled at me, “See you tomorrow, yeah?”

I nodded, “See you.”

He lingered in the entryway for a moment more before shaking out of whatever trance he had been in. Slipping his converse back on, Jimin waved at me before walking outside. His face was buried in his phone, so he never saw me wave back. He shut the door, the sound echoing in the empty house, and I was once again left alone.

Violet came out a few minutes later to discuss take out until we finally landed on pizza. She never said thank you, but her offer to give the tip since I was paying was more than enough. Then later when a few of my boxes came in early she happily carried them to me. She even helped me put everything away. When Calvin came home, she led me back inside and said with so much affection it made my heart melt.

"Calvin, this is Y/N. Sweetest woman I ever did meet. Bought us dinner."

Calvin reminded me of Namjoon in a way. His soft eyes and gentle voice. He took my hand when I introduced myself, his hands cold and soft. Wrinkles and sunspots went up the length of his arms.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," He said.

"Likewise," I replied.

We ate in silence, the three of us watching Jeopardy on the sofa. Even though I had been nervous about eating inside, Calvin's presence warmed the place up. Once a prison now felt like a poorly decorated home. A home filled with love.

As I watched them together, Calvin reaching out for Violet's hand and her giving it to him without question, I felt myself getting choked up. There had been a time I had that. Joon would be on the floor, book in his lap, while my hands were in his hair as I studied my training tapes.

I left early that night. I blew up the mattress, the house quiet, before sending out a few texts to my friends to let them know I was getting on alright. After that, I put on nature sounds to help me drift off to sleep. I had not felt this lonely in a very long time.

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