Chapter Text
“Jungkookie,” Jimin declared loudly, barely heard over the music. “Why the long face? Lighten up, it’s your birthday!” He all but fell into the seat next to Jungkook, liquid sloshing over the rim of his glass. He giggled, and Jungkook felt himself smile, locking his phone screen and setting it to the side out of the way of Jimin's drink.
“Ah, I just think I’m tired,” Jungkook admitted, lips nearly touching Jimin’s ear so he didn’t have to shout.
“Come on, you’re only twenty-three once,” Jimin crowed, pushing his glass over. “Have some fun! Get drunk!”
“I think you are already drunk,” Jungkook teased, sniffing at the glass. “What’s in this?”
“It’s safe for humans,” Jimin promised, edging closer. His hand moved to settle over Jungkook’s knee. He paused for a moment. “I think. You’re not going to go sprouting any new limbs, I promise. The guy behind the bar isn’t a witch.”
Jungkook sniffed it again. It smelt sweet, with the sharp undercurrents of alcohol. He sipped it, and gagged as it burned on the way down. The smell had been a lie.
“Too strong,” he complained, passing it back. “Really though, I might just go home early. You guys can stay out though!”
“No,” Jimin bemoaned, hand creeping up Jungkook’s leg, fingers at his inseam. “It’s your birthday but you’re just sitting here, come on, drink up, dance a little.”
Jungkook winced at the reminder, drawing the glass close again when Jimin didn’t take it back.
“Jungkookie,” Jimin wheedled, fingers still slowly petting their way up the inside of his thigh. “Come on.”
“We didn’t have to do anything,” Jungkook reminded him, but he dared another mouthful, holding his breath as if it could alleviate how bad it tasted. “You guys insisted.”
“Cause you’re human,” Jimin murmured. “And every year is important for you.”
Another blunt reminder. Jungkook threw his head back, taking the rest of the drink with him. Jimin whooped, and when Jungkook looked back at him, he looked delighted.
“That’s the spirit!”
“Jiminie,” Jungkook croaked, fighting not to cough and feeling his eyes want to water. “What the fuck was in that?”
“Good stuff.” Jimin winked, squeezing Jungkook’s leg before snatching at one of his hands to tug. “Come on, dance! Show me what those hips can do.” He wriggled his eyebrows and Jungkook couldn’t help the laugh.
“Better than what yours can do, old man,” Jungkook teased back, but made sure to scoop his phone up from the table and shove it into the pocket of his jeans, nearly too tight to fit, but he let Jimin drag him through the throng of bodies to where the music was loudest, the people were thickest.
Even the teasing tasted bitter.
It might be the last birthday he got to spend like this, dancing in a nightclub in Seoul with Jimin’s sparkling grin aimed at him.
It was a squeeze to fit between sweaty bodies and wayward hands. Jungkook felt something cold drizzle over his shoulder, a spilt drink, but Jimin stopped when he was happy of their position, immediately backing his body into Jungkook’s.
Jungkook steadied him with hands on hips, felt his heart beat a little harder, the alcohol and proximity, as one of Jimin’s arm crept up behind to curl around Jungkook’s neck, as he pressed his ass back into Jungkook’s crotch.
He lowered his head, nose against Jimin’s cheek, then lips against his sweaty jaw, smelled the sweetness of alcohol on his breath as they danced.
Jungkook felt brief grief, for all the bass shook through his body, for all how warm Jimin felt in his arms, and couldn’t dwell on it for long when a firm line of heat bumped up against his back, as fingers crept over the front of his thigh to tuck into his unoccupied pocket
“Jiminie got you to come out to play again,” Taehyung breathed against his ear, barely audible over the music, leaning his weight into Jungkook and pressing his other hand to the front of Jungkook’s other leg, coaxing him back even as he pressed forward.
Jimin wriggled around in the circle of Jungkook’s grip, fingers sliding over to grip at his waist. Jungkook saw the flash of grin he gave to Taehyung, even as his pinkie slid under the waistband of Jungkook’s jeans to get skin to skin contact.
It was one point of contact, but Jungkook could swear it burned almost hot.
“If the two of you are going to tease me,” he called over the thud of the current song. “I’m going back to my table.”
But his words felt like he’d slurred, the effects of whatever Jimin had given him buzzing in his veins, and he let himself sway back into Taehyung, a slow grind that let him hear the hitch of Taehyung’s breath over everything else.
Jimin pressed his free hand to Jungkook’s chest, a soft push; he felt as Taehyung’s stance steadied to help take his bodyweight better, and then Jimin’s hand was creeping up over his shoulder, catching against the side of his neck as he leaned up for a kiss.
He kissed sweet, softly, until Jungkook grasped at his waist, tried to pull him closer, and then Jimin was sucking at his tongue, biting at his lips until they felt sensitive. Two more of Jimin’s fingers slid down into Jungkook’s jeans and he pulled back a moment, startled, and when his mouth moved, Jungkook couldn’t hear him over the noise.
“What?” he asked, but then Taehyung’s hand was leaving his thigh to curl under his jaw to tug him back to kiss him too, and Jimin didn’t answer in favour of closing his mouth over Jungkook’s neck.
Whatever Jimin had given him had been strong strong, Jungkook unsure as to when they’d even made it into a mostly empty hallway by the bathrooms, his back against the wall and Taehyung plastered against his front, suckling at a point just below his jaw.
It stung, in a good way, made his skin feel hot, and when Jungkook lifted his hand to rest on the side of Taehyung’s neck, he could feel him swallowing.
He gazed hazily down the corridor, making eye contact with a girl who looked flustered, but worried, and Jungkook moved his hand from Taehyung’s neck to his hair, tugging him closer. Taehyung groaned, pressing a knee between Jungkook’s, and the girl scurried on.
“Could you have picked anywhere more public,” a voice chastised not long after, and Jungkook’s neck felt damp when Taehyung’s mouth pulled away, his tongue lapping at the small punctures left behind.
“Jin-hyung,” Jungkook breathed, shuddering as Taehyung got bolder, mouth grazing at his jaw, catching on his earlobe.
“I could’ve been sucking his dick, instead,” Taehyung said against Jungkook’s ear, like a secret, but Jungkook knew it wasn’t meant for him at the way Jin’s mouth twitched, for all his brow was pulled into a frown.
“Taehyung,” Jin scolded, but Jungkook could see how his eyes dropped to the wet spot on his neck as Taehyung’s head lifted away.
“You want some?” Jungkook asked, and when he tipped his head to the other way, it felt like the floor was rushing up to meet him as he staggered sideways, Taehyung’s hands moving to hold his hips in a bruising grip to keep him steady.
“How drunk are you?” quieter, to Taehyung as Jin approached, “yah, how drunk is he?”
“Jiminie,” Jungkook declared. “Let me have his drink.” Taehyung’s leg was still between his, and Jungkook abruptly lowered his weight, felt as Taehyung’s knee pushed a little higher, thigh going tense as Jungkook all but sat down on him, leaning against the wall.
He was confident Taehyung could hold the weight, even as Jin reached to brush sweaty hair from his forehead.
“What was Jimin drinking?” Jin asked, his fingers cool against Jungkook’s forehead. “Taehyung?”
“Have a taste,” Jungkook offered, coy, but this time not daring to tip his head. “You’ll find out.”
“Hush you,” Jin murmured, but it was fond. “At least tell me he said it was safe for humans.”
Jungkook heard how Taehyung’s toes scuffed against the floor.
“Taehyung!”
“I don’t know!” Taehyung blurted. “You and Namjoon-hyung and Hobi-hyung went off to...to canoodle or whatever, and we went to dance, and then Jungkook-ah wanted to sit down for a bit and then Jiminie went after him, I don’t know!”
“Where’s Jimin?”
Taehyung’s toes scuffed again, and Jungkook reached up leaden hands to pat against Taehyung’s cheeks, catching sight of the pout he was pulling.
“Jungkook-ah needed to pee. So I took him here, and Jiminie said he was going to get another drink.” Taehyung curled his fingers in Jungkook’s belt loops and added, “he said he’ll be back, we can ask.”
Jin sighed, exasperated, and pulled out his phone, texting. There was a high pitched tone as Taehyung’s phone went off, a buzz as Jungkook’s vibrated in his pocket, the group chat pinged. A few more buzzes, and Jungkook simply let his head sway forward, thumping against Taehyung’s chest. A hand reached to pet the back of his head absentmindedly.
Jungkook still felt hot, and the longer he sat, straddling Taehyung’s leg, the better he felt.
“I want to go dance,” he said, knowing he sounded petulant, knowing that earlier he’d just wanted to go home and mope but now, now he wanted to spend as much time having fun as he could until it was gone.
“You can’t even hold yourself up baby, give it a moment,” Jin murmured. “Taehyung, how much did you take?”
“Not much! I know my limits!”
Jungkook turned his head to catch Jin’s arched brow, the disbelief.
“Honestly, I’m not fifty any more,” Taehyung insisted. “Tell him Kookie, I didn’t have that much.”
He hadn’t. There was no shakiness, no nausea associated with blood loss. Just a pleasant buzz in his veins, and as Jungkook straightened up, Taehyung’s hands reached to steady on his shoulders. This time, when Jungkook was upright, he didn’t sway.
“I’m fine,” he promised, hands moving to Taehyung’s chest gently to push him away, to get his body turned towards Jin. Taehyung’s leg withdrew, but he kept a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. Jungkook persisted, “It’s my birthday, right? Can I go dance? Jin-hyung, dance with me.”
Jin’s face softened at Jungkook’s endearing, his fingers slipping through Jungkook’s outstretched hand. When Jungkook turned to face him head on, Jin’s expression flickered again.
“The hickey,” Taehyung said seriously, “was Jimin.”
Jin smelled good. Jungkook could catch not just his cologne, but also the cologne Namjoon had been wearing. Jungkook wouldn’t call it canoodling, but Hoseok had been quick to drag Namjoon and Jin away to have fun when they were sure that Jungkook was happy to let them go.
“You could have gotten into trouble,” Jin said, thumbing at the still damp spot on Jungkook’s neck. When he pressed, blood beaded, and he drew his thumb back to lick it clean.
“There was enthusiastic consent,” Taehyung promised.
“There’s still enthusiastic consent,” Jungkook crooned, leaning into Jin’s touch. “If you want, too.”
Jin smelled of sweet alcohol too, and Jungkook knew, after three years together, how to push just right. He trailed his free hand up Jin’s front, plucking at the spaces between the buttons, before he curled his finger into the collar of his own tight shirt, tugging down to expose to his collarbone.
“You little minx,” Jin murmured, but Jungkook crowed in success as Jin took the invitation, cradling his waist in his hands as he leaned Jungkook back into the wall, mouthing at the bruise Jimin had left behind.
Jungkook’s heart felt loud in his chest, a hard heavy beat. Then it suddenly seemed too loud, a thump-thump-thump in his ears, and he blinked rapidly at the onset of black spots in his vision.
“Oh,” he warbled, felt as Jin froze at the waver in his voice. “Hyung, I think I’m going to pass out.”
Jin’s arms immediately caught around him as he cursed loudly, Jungkook feeling his knees go limp.
The last he heard was Jin barking at Taehyung to find Jimin, the others.
“ - morning, sleeping beauty,” Jungkook heard, before he’d even fully woken up. His face felt puffy. His eyes felt gritty when he blinked them open.
“Hyung,” he croaked, and felt an arm curl around his shoulders. His throat burned, and his mouth tasted awful. “What time is it?”
“A little after midday. You slept for about ten hours.”
Jungkook blinked a few times, lifting a hand to rub at his eyes.
“What happened?”
“Jiminie accidentally poisoned you. Mildly.”
Jungkook froze, hand still curled into his eye socket. He dropped both hands to his lap, turning his head to regard Yoongi.
“Mildly?”
“There was hemlock in the drink he gave you,” Yoongi murmured, reaching for a glass on the bedside locker, filled with water. “Small enough to freak out your respiratory system, not enough to kill.”
“Was the bartender trying to kill Jimin?” Jungkook accepted the glass, sipping from it gratefully and clearing his throat when it felt more damp. The glass was cold, as if freshly filled. “Did I throw up?”
“A wonderful amount,” Yoongi confirmed. “All over Jin’s shoes. The bartender made Jimin the drink exactly as he asked for it, because he didn’t ask for it to be virgin. He’d’ve had a pleasant buzz. From what I heard, you had a good one too, before you fainted.”
Jungkook wrinkled his nose, taking another, deeper pull of water. It settled uneasy on his empty stomach.
“Is Jimin in trouble?”
Yoongi smiled, eyes crinkling.
“Lots.”
Jungkook gusted out a sigh, letting Yoongi pluck the glass from his hands. Yoongi’s hand settled between his shoulder blades, rubbing gently.
“Did he cry?” Jungkook asked, wondering how close it had been.
“Not in the way you’re thinking,” Yoongi replied easy. “But you’re probably going to find him grovelling for your forgiveness sometime soon.”
Jungkook felt his shoulders relax slightly.
“You had Jin with you,” Yoongi soothed. “And from what I heard, Hobi wasn’t that far behind. You would have been fine. Even if Jimin had wailed, you wouldn’t have died - you didn’t the first time he met you.”
Jungkook bit his bottom lip, twisting his hands on his lap.
The first time he’d met Jimin was when he was working in a local convenience store, trying to waste away the tedious hours of the night. It had been an easy interaction, pleasantries exchanged.
The second time, Jimin had shown up with Taehyung, and Jungkook had been startled when Jimin had openly stared weeping and wailing after paying. It was perturbing, only worsened when Taehyung had looked at him apologetically and explained that a banshee wailed when death was near.
Jungkook had only smiled and handed Taehyung his change, even as he led a distraught Jimin away.
On his way home from work, he’d been struck by a car.
Jimin had seemed shocked to see him two days later, back behind the counter, and as an apology, asked to take him out for coffee and Jungkook, starved of attention, had accepted.
“What are you thinking about so hard?” Yoongi asked, tickling behind his ear to the point that Jungkook squashed his shoulders up. “Want some breakfast?”
“Yeah, sure.” Jungkook smiled, knew it was weak by the way Yoongi’s face twisted weirdly.
“Hey,” Yoongi said softly. “You’re not in any danger, baby. You’re fine. Okay? We’ll look after you.”
Jungkook let Yoongi kiss him, despite the fact his morning breath was probably horrendous, and just felt a nervous pit in his stomach as Yoongi climbed off the bed and departed the room.
He’d pretended to be nineteen, when Jimin had met him that first time. Three and a bit years later, and here he was, celebrating his supposed twenty-third when, in fact, they were wrong, give or take six centuries.
And Jungkook was human, truly. Bled red, felt pain, pleasure, every emotion going. If he broke a bone, it’d take six weeks to heal, same as any other normal person.
That’s where the similarities ended, because Jungkook had died on his real twenty-third birthday and woken up the next day. Now he didn’t age. Now, when he went through something that would kill anyone else, he could stand up and brush it off however many hours later it took his mangled body to pull back together from the point of death.
And now he had to consider that soon enough, the rest of them would notice that his face wouldn’t be getting any older and he’d have to leave before the truth was squeezed out of him.
Jeon Jungkook, as much as he wanted to keep on being the vulnerable, doted on baby of the relationship he’d tipped headfirst into, couldn’t stay any longer without risk of being uncovered, and was too deep into the lie to let it slip naturally without hurting the trust they'd built.
He’d done this before. Had a few happy years and ducked out before it became too hard to explain, before his partners started aging past him and looked a little too close, or noticed that he wasn’t aging.
This time, it stung a little more than usual.