Chapter Text
Jimin never really knew his father.
He has one memory from when he was nine, maybe ten years old, of his father standing in the front hall of their home, a cigarette in hand, illuminated only by the moonlight.
Jimin stands at the bottom of the stairs.
“Appa,” He calls. It's late, he’s not meant to be awake, he knows this.
“Jimin,” His father says, but he doesn’t turn to look at his son. “Why are you awake?”
Jimin rubs his eyes, he’s tired, he’d been woken up by the sound of a car out front.
“Are you leaving?” The question hangs in the air, looming over the child and his father. His father, merely a shadow in the dark, takes a drag from his cigarette.
“Yes.” He says, finally meeting Jimin’s eyes. “Your mother will care for you.”
Jimin’s father was no older than thirty, he was a young, accomplished man. He'd always provided for his family, he’d always kept Jimin safe.
“When will you return?” Jimin asks, words pouring out into the dark hallway.
Jimin, with the sharp eyes of a child, notices it then. His fathers hands shake.
“Appa?” Jimin calls again, “When will you return?”
His father drops his cigarette, right there in the middle of the hallway, and stomps it into the hardwood flooring.
He pulls the front door open and doesn’t glance behind him when he goes, leaving his son alone, in a smoke filled room, in the middle of the night.
+
Jimin’s mother started taking longer shifts after that.
They were lucky, truly, Jimin’s father had only left the utility bills to be paid, and as a single mother, this is enough for Jimin’s mom.
She worked as a nurse, ever since Jimin was young.
She worked long, twelve or so hour shifts, and at some point between the ages of ten and twelve, Jimin had learned to do things on his own.
His mom would sleep during the day, and when Jimin wasn’t in school he would walk the twenty-three minutes to the grocery store to buy as many microwave dinners as his mom would let him.
She was a good mom, she tried her best. She would sneak into Jimin’s room after a long shift in the early hours of the morning to wake him up only to ask about his day, and occasionally read him bedtime stories. She’d leave little notes around the house for him, telling him she’s proud of him, telling him she knows he’ll do great things.
She never complained about her situation, not once. She would go out of her way to give Jimin special treats, especially around his birthday. She had this little annual routine where she’d bake him a cake while he was at school and leave it to surprise him when he came home.
He loved those moments, and he loved her. He really did. It never occurred to him that he'd lose such precious time.
+
When Jimin was thirteen his mom started acting differently.
She started leaving him for longer hours, sometimes a day or two, and she’d have strange friends that Jimin didn’t recognize show up at the front door to check on him.
It wasn’t all that unusual, really. He’d always known she’d had work friends that cared about him like their own, but these people weren’t like the people at the hospital. They were intimidating and strange, they were people with hollow cheeks and pale skin, jumpier than Jimin was used to.
At some point he’d started leaving the house. He wouldn’t stray far, but he’d end up in a deserted park late into the evening or in a school playground when he should be at home, tucked into bed or stationed on the couch, finishing his homework.
At first, when Jimin’s mom would come home, she seemed to understand. She’d stroke his hair and tell him not to do it again, it’s unsafe for a boy like him out there. The only place he belongs is at home with her, but she was never home as much as she used to be, and Jimin didn’t like it.
As time went on she started to get more agitated the more he did it. The less he listened to her, the more upset she’d be.
One night she showed up earlier than Jimin was used to, maybe around midnight, and Jimin was sitting awake, watching television in her bed.
She leans herself against the door frame, arms crossed over her chest. “Jimin-ah, why weren't you home tonight when you were supposed to be?”
He looks up, meeting her eyes in the dim light. She looks tired.
“Does it matter?” He asks, glancing back at the TV.
She shrugs her shoulders, her eyes hard. “Do you matter?”
Jimin sits up, he crosses his legs in front of him.
“I don’t know, Eomma, do I?”
“You shouldn’t be out after dark, Jimin.”
“Okay, well you haven’t been home, and I’m bored.”
“Why don’t you have any friends?”
Jimin frowns, he does have friends, but most of their parents don’t like the idea of him bringing them around when his mother’s never home. He doesn’t really get it, when he’s perfectly capable of doing things by himself, but he’s only ever found it to be pointless to start fights with his classmates because of it.
He doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t.
She worries her lip for a moment, looking at him with sad eyes.
“I raised you to listen, so start listening.”
“No, I raised myself.”
She freezes, goes completely rigid, and says, “You don’t fucking talk to me that way.”
Jimin pushes himself off her bed. He reaches for the remote and shuts the TV off, drowning the room in darkness and silence.
“I don’t talk to my mother that way.” He says back.
“I am your mother.”
“It doesn’t seem like it.”
He pushes past her, bumping her shoulder against his on his way out of the room.
He only pauses in the doorway of his own bedroom, turning to glance at her over his shoulder.
“I miss you, Eomma.”
+
Once Jimin started the ninth grade his mother started disappearing for entire weekends.
She’d disappear after work on a Friday, turn up Sunday night all strung out and unable to walk, like she’d lost herself over the weekend.
Jimin hated it.
As he started to learn more about the world he’d come to see his mother’s flaws.
He’d seen the empty pill bottles filling up the trash, the crushed up cans in the recycling bin.
He’d started avoiding her, more often than not.
She’d come home and pick fights, telling him his teachers were accusing her of neglect. She’d beg him to keep his mouth shut, she’d throw things across the room and break down sobbing in the kitchen.
Jimin had, on two occasions, threatened to call the police when she’d become hysterical.
There was one night where she’d shown up with takeout, she’d told Jimin she picked it up on the way home from work, just for him.
They’re sitting quietly at the kitchen table, no words exchanged.
Jimin can’t help but ask, “So why now?”
She picks at her chicken, poking it with her chopsticks. She doesn’t look up when he speaks.
“What do you mean why now?”
Jimin shrugs, “Why did you choose now to come home and feed me? You haven’t sat down for dinner with me in years.”
She freezes, her hands shake, just the tiniest bit.
“Is it a crime to spend time with my son?”
Jimin shrugs a second time, he takes a bite of his food.
The silence spreads out between them, Jimin takes his time chewing his food.
“No,” He says simply. “But you haven’t spent time with me since I was ten.”
She sighs, dropping her chopsticks onto a napkin that sits to her right.
“I’m sorry, Jimin-ah. I’ve been so busy with work and-“
“Does work include taking drugs? Because I’m not blind, Eomma. I’ve seen the bottles in the garbage.”
“Jimin-ah, it’s not like that. You wouldn’t understand, you’re just a kid.”
“Stop, Eomma!” Jimin drops his hands on the table, startling his mother with a loud thud. “I’m not stupid!”
“Jimin! Enough! This is my house, you will not raise your voice at me!” Her voice shakes, anger and discomfort prevailing in her tone.
Jimin stands up. He pushes his chair out behind him and snatches up his takeout container, dropping it in the garbage on his way to the sink.
“Whatever, Eomma. If you want to leave, go ahead. I’ve already watched one parent go.”
Her takeout container hits the cupboard next to Jimin’s head before he’s had a chance to turn around, making him flinch. Bits of food spray everywhere, landing in a mess all over the floor.
“You will not compare me to him!” She screeches, startling Jimin.
When Jimin turns his mother is standing beside the table, her hands in fists against the dark wood, holding her up. There’s a fire in her eyes, one he wishes to diminish.
“I just don’t want to be left alone.” Jimin says, his voice calmer, lower than hers.
Her voice is still high, but it shakes, close to breaking.
“I’m not your father, I will never be your father. I would never do that to you.”
“Are you sure?”
Her face grows sad, her eyes turn glassy.
“Of course I’m sure.”
Jimin shrugs. He’s learned not to believe her, he’s never believed her.
“Okay.” And that’s all he says.
+
Jimin met Hoseok when he was fourteen, soon after he started tenth grade.
Jimin always tended to keep to himself during his breaks at school. He'd normally find himself sitting just off the school grounds, catching up on his classwork or sneaking off to the convenience store down the street.
It was the latter, this time, when he found himself cornered outside the front doors of a 7-11.
A voice makes him pause. "Did you just steal that?"
Jimin turns, and he recognizes him. The dyed red hair, the painted nails. Jung Hoseok, Jimin's upperclassman by just a year, he's got a bit of a reputation among the younger students.
To answer his question, yes, Jimin did just steal triangle gimbap and an iced coffee. He doesn't have any money, and he's fucking hungry.
Jimin shoves his free hand in his pocket. "Why?"
Hoseok shrugs, he pulls something out of his jacket pocket, a pack of cigarettes.
"You didn't even try to hide it." He fishes out a cigarette and props it between his lips, offering the package to Jimin.
"Oh, I don't smoke." He doesn't.
Hoseok raises an eyebrow and pushes the box toward Jimin a second time, and Jimin, being absolutely useless toward peer pressure, takes one.
Hoseok lights Jimin's cigarette, and then his own, and leans against the stone exterior of the store.
"What's your name?"
"Jimin."
"Ah.”
Jimin sucks in a breath, the smoke stings in his lungs. He holds back a cough.
“You know me?” Hoseok asks, a curious look in his eye.
Jimin nods. Everyone knows Hoseok.
"I always see you on your own," Hoseok says, and Jimin meets his eyes, surprised. "My friends and I have a spot, if you want a place to hangout during your break periods. Instead of stealing from convenience stores or whatever."
"Why me?" He inhales another breath of smoke. This time he gives in and coughs.
Hoseok smiles crookedly. "Just have a feeling you need it." He says, and Jimin thinks that he might be right.
+
Hoseok introduced Jimin to a lot of people and a lot of things.
Now, Hoseok had a group of people he hung out with, but none of them were really ever his friends per say. Jimin noticed this early on, maybe two months after meeting Hoseok.
It was almost like business transactions, as if Hoseok was spreading his name. He had something to offer and they always had something in return, whether that be drugs, test answers, or connections with people who'd provide alcohol at parties.
Jimin never got very close with the others in the group, but Hoseok seemed to like Jimin.
Hoseok brought the younger boy around with him most days. He was protective, he told Jimin who to avoid in his circle, and who to trust. Jimin liked him too.
Over Jimin's school year, Hoseok brought Jimin to his first party, fed him his first drink. The first time Jimin got high was with Hoseok, after school hours, in late September, at a park about ten minutes from Jimin's house.
"How do you feel?" Hoseok asks, he's laying in the grass, head tilted up to the sky.
Jimin hums, he feels fuzzy. "Good," He says. "Like, better than usual."
"Yeah."
Hoseok grins, and Jimin finds himself giggling. He lays down so his head is on Hoseok's stomach.
Fingers find Jimin's hair, and he sighs into the touch.
"You're almost sixteen" Hoseok muses, and Jimin nods.
"I am."
"Do you feel sixteen?"
"Do you feel seventeen?"
Hoseok hums, "Nah."
Jimin smiles. "Me neither. I feel older."
Hoseok looks down at him, he runs his fingers through Jimin's hair again.
"How old do you feel?"
"Maybe eighteen, nineteen."
Hoseok pouts. "Don't grow up too fast."
"Ah," Jimin sighs. "I think I already have."
+
Jimin learnt how to trust because of Hoseok.
Hoseok became somewhat of a pillar in Jimin’s life after the first few months they spent together.
He’s a whole lot softer than Jimin had ever thought him to be, and loyal as ever.
Hoseok learns over time about Jimin’s family, and oftentimes Jimin finds himself wrapped in Hoseok’s arms as he falls asleep.
Hoseok’s parents were never too keen on Jimin. He’d met them on two occasions, and they always had this disappointed look in their eye, like Jimin was a pity case rather than Hoseok’s friend.
It’s one day in March when Jimin is sitting up in Hoseok’s bedroom that he hears muffled shouting erupt from the floor below.
He can’t make out the words, but he knows it’s Hoseok and his mother, and Jimin feels sick as he sits cross-legged on the carpeted floor, waiting.
Hoseok storms through the door a few minutes later, his hand extended to Jimin, his face red and his eyes wet with tears.
“Let’s go.” He says firmly, and Jimin takes his hand, pulling himself up on his feet.
Jimin soon finds himself walking through the brisk cold next to Hoseok, unsure of where they’re headed.
“What happened?” Jimin asks.
Hoseok keeps his eyes forward. “She had a lot to say about you.”
Jimin frowns, “About me?”
“Yeah, a lot of shit I don’t want to repeat.”
Jimin doesn’t get it, why would she care about him?
“Your mom has a reputation, I guess.” Hoseok says.
Ah, that much he knows.
“My mom’s not a fuckin’ representation of me.” Jimin huffs.
“I know, but other adults don’t.”
“Adults fucking suck.”
Hoseok nods. “Yeah. They really fucking do.”
+
By June, Hoseok was leaving.
Jimin is standing in front of his mother's house, his arms wrapped around his midsection, only a sweater draped over his frame, covering him as far as the tops of his knees.
"I'll be back before you know it." Hoseok is saying, his hand extended to Jimin's cheek. He wipes away a stray tear, Jimin doesn't meet his eyes.
"Fucking boarding school." Jimin spits, he looks at the ground.
"Only until next December. A year and a half, that's it."
"That's already too much."
He hadn't meant to get so attached to Hobi, really.
Something about his laugh, his blinding smile, the way he'd always seemed to understand Jimin's situation. It had sucked Jimin in, and now he's stuck sending his best friend off.
"I know, but you'll be almost done with school, and then we'll have the world to ourselves."
Hoseok takes a step forward, leaning his and Jimin's foreheads together.
"Us against the world, yeah?" Jimin whispers, trying to keep his voice from breaking.
"Always."
"'M gonna miss you, hyung."
Hobi huffs out a little laugh, his breath shaky. Jimin knows how hard he's trying to hold it together.
"It won't be long, okay? Stay out of trouble."
Jimin smiles, all pathetic and sad. "I'll try my best."
+
When Jimin met Taehyung he was sixteen. He had these big, brown eyes, and this little frown on his face, like everything around him was mildly unpleasant.
It was around two or three in the morning, on a Friday night, mid August, two months after his best friend left.
Jimin was standing on the front porch of someone's house. If you asked him, he wouldn't be able to tell you whose.
He had his back leaned up against the wall, a half empty bottle of beer in his hands, his head tilted up toward the sky.
People were filing out of the house, stumbling down the front steps, giggling at nothing at all.
Jimin watches them with mild distaste, his own drink swirling around his head, making his brain a little fuzzy.
A pair of girls, maybe a year older than him, one taller than him, stumble out the front door. "'M mom's almost here. Y' think she'll know 'm drunk?"
Jimin rolls his eyes. One of the girls trips on the stairs, landing on the pavement on her knees. She laughs, her voice shrill and high.
"Fuck! She's definitely gonna know!"
He watches the taller girl sway down the steps, reaching over to pick up her friend. She meets Jimin's eyes for a moment and slurs, "Least you could do is help her up, asshole."
Jimin doesn't respond. He brings the bottle back up to his lips, knocking back the rest of the dark liquid.
The girls stumble down the driveway and Jimin crosses his arms against his chest.
A voice, low and sweet as honey, comes from his right. "Why do they expect a teenage boy to come to their fucking rescue?"
Jimin looks for the voice, meeting the eyes of a straight haired brunette boy, the ends of his hair streaked with an almost greenish blue. It falls in his eyes, making him look a little bit intimidating, if it weren't for his boyish features.
Jimin shrugs like he’s waiting for the punchline. It never comes.
"You waiting for a ride?" The boy looks at him curiously, he gives Jimin an obvious once over, raking his eyes down Jimin's smaller frame. Jimin would blush, if he wasn't fucking drunk.
Jimin scoffs, "Fuck, no, I'll walk."
The boy hums and nods in Jimin's direction. "What's your name?"
"Jimin."
The boy hums, like he's simply acknowledging this. "Taehyung."
He doesn't stick out a hand, he doesn't offer a smile, he doesn't give any inclination that he even cares, and Jimin's intrigued.
"What brings you here, Taehyung?"
Taehyung sticks his hands in the pockets of his zip up hoodie, he brings his shoulders up in a shrug.
“‘Don’t have anywhere else to go.” He says it so nonchalantly, glancing off into the street like it’s just a fact, that it nearly goes over Jimin’s head.
Before he can ask the kid to elaborate, Taehyung interrupts him with another question.
“Why’s your hair orange?” And fuck if Jimin knows.
He lifts a hand to pull it through the strands, they’re dry and dead, fried from all that store bought bleach. He glances up at the orange ends as they fall in his eyes.
Hoseok had told him he'd look good with orange, but he’d been so fucking high when he’d dyed it, angry after an argument with his mom and blissed out on a shit ton of weed, thought it would be the funniest thing in the damn world to have her come home to that. Fuck, she still hasn’t come home since he’d changed it.
“Because I felt like it. Why’s your hair blue?”
Taehyung tilts his head, giving Jimin a look that says touché, and he says, “I like the orange, it suits you.”
Jimin blinks, “You don’t even know me.”
“Fair point, Jimin.” Taehyung observes, hands still in his pockets. “Can I?”
It’s such an absurd question, can I, but Jimin finds himself nodding and telling himself yeah, why not? It’s not like he has much in the way of friends anymore anyway.
So they stay there, on the front porch under the stars, explaining their likes and dislikes. Taehyung points out the constellations, he knows a whole lot about the stars, so much so that Jimin finds himself fascinated, wondering if maybe in another life Taehyung had been an astronomer.
Some time into the night the porch lights go out, and Jimin says, “I guess that’s our cue. Can I walk you home?”
Taehyung pushes himself off the railing he’d been leaning on, taking a few steps forward. He turns and reaches out a hand, Jimin takes it without a second thought.
“I don’t have a home.”
Jimin follows him down the front steps, down the driveway, out into the street.
“Where do you live?”
Taehyung threads their fingers together, pulling Jimin down the sidewalk.
“Barely am, really. I stay wherever I can.”
Jimin wonders then, what his mom would say if she were to come home and find a boy in his bed. It’s been six days since she’s been home.
“You can stay with me, if you want.”
Taehyung looks at him with these wide, unblinking eyes. Jimin feels his heart melt, just a fraction.
“Really?”
Jimin nods, rather casually. He leads the way down the street, his house is maybe fifteen minutes by foot from here.
“Thank you,” Taehyung whispers. He leans over and presses a kiss to Jimin’s cheek. This time, Jimin blushes.
+
Getting to know Taehyung had been a breeze, even more so than Hoseok.
He and Jimin fit like lost puzzle pieces, metaphorically as well as physically.
Taehyung isn’t in school, apparently he’d dropped out when he left home. Anytime Jimin brings it up he says, “Fuck school, fuck my parents, and fuck anyone who ever said they gave a fuck about me.” Jimin’s learned quickly to drop the subject.
That first night, when Taehyung had stayed over, he and Jimin had laid together in Jimin’s bed until the morning came around.
Taehyung told Jimin about the planets, about being on his own, and about his future.
“I want an apartment, like, right in the middle of the city.” He’d said. “And I want to help people through my job. Maybe I’ll get a dog and I’ll have big windows that overlook the skyline. Maybe I’ll be rich and independent, maybe I'll fall in love.”
Jimin hums, his left arm is tucked behind Taehyung on the bed, Tae’s head is perched against his shoulder.
“What about you? What do you want your future to look like?”
Jimin blinks up at the ceiling, alcohol and maybe something a little more real swirling around inside him, clouding his judgment.
He says, “I want to be loved.”
Taehyung turns over, propping himself up on one elbow so that he can meet Jimin’s gaze.
“You want to be loved.” He says back.
“Yeah,” Jimin sighs, “Like, unconditionally.”
“You want to be loved, like in a relationship or what?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Jimin says, he studies Taehyung’s face. “By friends, by a lover, by family. All of the above. I just don’t want to be left alone again.”
Taehyung watches him, his eyes blown wide, something like empathy heavy in his gaze.
“I think that’s what I want too.”
Jimin searches his eyes for something, anything to hold on to.
“Why’d you leave home?”
Taehyung bites the inside of his lip, his hair hangs down, he’s close enough that it almost tickles Jimin’s forehead.
He sighs, putting some space between himself and the other.
“I don’t really want to talk about it.” He says quietly.
Jimin shrugs, he gets it.
+
It’s been fourteen days since Jimin’s mom has come home.
He doesn’t care, really. It makes no difference to him whether she’s there or not, but the fridge is emptying out and Jimin’s already spent most of the cash hidden above the sink on weed and takeout meals, so he’s starting to get antsy. He's beginning to think he needs to find a job.
Taehyung asks a lot of questions, Jimin has realized.
“Has she ever been gone this long?”
Jimin shrugs, “Thirteen days, once. Last year.”
“Do you know where she is?”
He shrugs again. “Probably on a bender, or maybe she’s dead.”
Taehyung is sitting on the kitchen counter, he swings his feet every now and then, bumping them against the cupboards.
“If she’s dead do we get the house?”
Jimin chuckles, he pours himself a bowl of stale cereal.
“I doubt she remembers me enough to put me in a fuckin’ will.”
Taehyung hums thoughtfully, he watches Jimin lean against the fridge, bowl of cereal in hand.
“Are you going to school today?”
Jimin nods, he doesn’t know why he does it, really. He doesn’t pay attention in class, he’s failing the majority of them anyway. He doesn’t have much in the friend department, just the kids who go off grounds to smoke during their lunch period and the faux friends of Hoseok.
“Why?”
“Dunno,” He says. “Feel like it’s important.”
“Fuck school.” Taehyung hisses, “And fuck everyone who goes there.”
Jimin shoves a spoonful of cereal in his mouth.
“Kinda harsh, since I go there.” He mumbles.
“Fuck you too.” Taehyung jokes, and Jimin grins around his spoon.
+
Taehyung tells Jimin about his family after three months of living in Jimin’s home.
They’re sitting shoulder to shoulder on the floor, their backs against Jimin’s bed, Jimin with his legs out straight in front of him. He’s got one of his school textbooks in his lap, fingers busy rolling up a joint on top of it.
Taehyung is next to him with his knees to his chest, his head leaned against Jimin’s, eyes cast downward at the rolling paper between Jimin’s hands.
“My dad’s a fuckin’ asshole, you know?”
Jimin hums. He brings the joint up to his lips, dabbing his tongue against the unrolled edge of the paper and securing it together once he’s done. He looks down proudly at his work.
“You told me he was an electrician.”
Taehyung bumps his shoulder against Jimin’s. “Ha-ha. Doesn’t make him less of a fuckin’ asshole though.”
Jimin props the joint between his lips, unlit. He places the textbook on the floor to his left.
“Why’s he such an asshole?”
Taehyung leans further into Jimin, and Jimin pulls his shoulders down so that Taehyung lays down on his back, his head in Jimin’s lap. He hands Jimin a lighter from somewhere on the floor.
Jimin lights up the joint, inhaling the smoke and leaning his head back. He holds it in his lungs, waiting for Taehyung to answer.
“‘Used to hit me and my sister.”
Exhale. He passes the joint to Taehyung.
“You have a sister?”
Taehyung hums, taking in a puff of smoke. He passes the joint back to Jimin, like it’s their routine.
Inhale.
“Dunno if I still do. I begged her to go with me, but she said no.”
Exhale.
Jimin’s heart aches. Taehyung’s fingers pull the joint from Jimin’s hand.
He inhales, watching Jimin’s eyes flit from his to his lips to the smoke rising above them.
“What happened?” Jimin asks, his brain is starting to go a little bit fuzzy.
Taehyung hands it back.
Inhale.
“He beat her half to fucking death, Chim.”
Jimin holds his breath.
Taehyung continues. “I was screaming for him to stop, just trying to get him away from her, trying to pull his hands back and shit, and he turned around and smacked me across the face.” He swallows, uncomfortable. “Told me if I touched him again he’d fucking kill me.”
Exhale. Jimin’s hands shake.
“You wanna know something fucked up?” Taehyung asks, and Jimin hands him the joint.
“What?”
“I kind of wanted him to.”
Jimin sucks in a breath, he runs his fingers through Taehyung’s hair.
“I’m sorry.”
Taehyung shrugs, putting the joint to his lips.
“It’s whatever.” He furrows his eyebrows. “I hit him over the back of the head with a fucking bottle, like in the movies or something. Packed up my shit and left. Took a train from Busan to here and never once have I regretted it.”
Jimin looks down at him, a frown on his lips.
“I hope your sister got out.”
Taehyung pulls the joint out of his mouth. He exhales.
“Yeah, I hope so too.”
+
The day Jimin’s mom came home was the day Taehyung made his first promise.
Taehyung had been sitting propped up against Jimin’s bed frame, a cigarette dangling between his lips.
His hands were in Jimin’s hair, who lay between his legs with his head against Taehyung’s thigh, his knees bent up, a book in his lap.
Cold sunlight filters through the open window, illuminating the smoke that trails from the end of Taehyung’s cigarette.
It’s early January now, just past Taehyung’s seventeenth birthday.
The air in the room is chilly and stuffy, the heating has been shut off since around November.
Jimin hasn’t gone to school since his birthday in October, and he’s picked up a job. He essentially runs weed for his dealer, like a fucking pizza delivery man, but for drugs. He doesn’t mind, and he’s gotten really good at riding his bike through the city without any directions. It’s kind of nice.
He has enough to pay for basic groceries, and he just barely gets the water bill, but the heating and light have been gone for ages. The two of them have hoarded every single blanket within a fifty mile radius of Jimin into that bed, and Taehyung’s made a life stealing flashlights and scented candles from grocery stores to help them see when it's dark out.
It’s when the front door slams that Jimin sits upright amongst the blankets. Taehyung leans over and taps his cigarette out the open window.
“Fuck, she’s back.” Jimin says, his voice hushed.
Taehyung tilts his head, “Your mom? Thought she was dead.”
Jimin nods, he hurries off the bed. He paces around the messy room once or twice, runs a hand through his hair, and steps out into the hallway.
“Eomma,” Jimin calls, he trails down the staircase.
She appears in the doorway to the kitchen, her eyes look sunken in, her hair is longer than he remembers.
How long has it been, five months?
“Why’s it so fucking cold in here?” She asks, like she fucking lives here.
“Heat got shut off two months ago.” Jimin mumbles.
“Speak up.” She orders, and Jimin notices her hands trembling.
“Why’d you come back?” Jimin asks, watching as she turns back to the kitchen, she pulls open the nearest cupboard, rummages through it for a moment.
“Oh, like I don’t pay for this place?” She asks.
Jimin scoffs, he trails into the kitchen behind her.
“You missed my birthday.” He spits.
His mother turns on her heels, a sneer on her face.
“Happy fuckin’ birthday, I got you a damn roof to live under, you ungrateful piece of shit.”
Jimin doesn’t respond. He watches her move on to the next cupboard.
“Where the fuck is my money?”
Jimin shrugs. “You left, I needed to eat.”
She freezes, her hand on the knob of the cupboard above the sink.
“You fuckin’ took my money?”
Jimin groans, “I wasn’t just gonna fucking die now was I?”
She moves quickly, crossing the stretch of the kitchen until her hands are in the collar of Jimin’s sweatshirt.
Her face is inches from his, a sneer on her lips. “You little shit, you can’t steal from me. Are you fucking kidding?”
“Eomma,” Jimin says, his lip quivering just the tiniest bit. She notices it, she looks satisfied. “Get out.”
She drops her hands, taking a surprised step back. She glances over his shoulder and spits, “Who the fuck is that?”
Jimin turns his head to the right, catching Taehyung just a few feet down the hall. His eyes are blown wide, his hands in fists at his side.
“Tae,” Jimin whines, “Don’t.”
Jimin’s mother takes a step back. She looks from Jimin to Taehyung, something bitter and rageful taking over her features.
“You spent all my fuckin’ money and moved some worthless kid into my house?” She looks back at Jimin. “You little asshole.”
“Fuck, Eomma, you left. It’s been fucking months, the hell did you think would happen?”
Jimin’s mother takes another step back, she narrows her eyes.
“Thought you’d be gone.”
Jimin scoffs, disbelieving. “You thought you could just abandon me.” He states, running a nervous hand through his hair.
She produces this fucked up, menacing smile, and Jimin has to look away.
“Figured you’d have killed yourself by now, one way or another.”
That’s when Taehyung steps in. He pushes past Jimin in the doorway, approaching Jimin's mom without a second thought.
“You heard him, get the fuck out.”
“And who the fuck are you!” She shrieks, pushing on Taehyung’s shoulder, sending him back a step. “You’re in my fuckin’ house!”
Taehyung stands his ground. His knuckles are white at his sides.
“Doesn’t fucking matter, does it? You’re not welcome here anymore!”
Jimin can tell she doesn’t know what to do, he knows she didn’t come here to stay, she came to look for a few stray dollars and hightail her ass out of there, probably for good. He wonders what happened to the loving woman that raised him as a kid, the one who taught him how to read and write, the one who baked him cakes on his birthday. He misses her.
“This is my house, you little fucker, and my fuckin’ son.”
“Eomma,” Jimin speaks up. “Just fucking go. If you want money, I can give you some.”
Her whole demeanour changes at the mention of it, and Taehyung looks at Jimin with wild eyes. He knows this is stupid.
“I’ve got a job now, Eomma. I can give you some if it means you’ll go.”
She steps around Taehyung, reaching out for Jimin. Taehyung reaches out a hand, stopping her from moving any closer.
She stares down at Taehyung’s arm, blocking her way, and then her extended hand, inches from the fabric of Jimin’s sweater.
She blinks, once, twice, and then her eyes fill with tears. It breaks Jimin’s heart.
“I’m sorry, Jimin-ah.” She stutters, her voice cracking and breaking.
Jimin can’t look at her. He can’t watch the tears slide down her cheeks or the way her bottom lip shakes. He turns away, making his way across the room. He pulls open the furthest drawer to the left and counts out a handful of bills.
When he crosses the room again he places the bills in her hands, tucking her fingers around them. Her hands shake.
“Thank you.” She whispers.
“I’m sorry, Eomma.” Jimin says, his voice as flat as he can make it. “Goodbye.”
Taehyung guides her down the hall, to the front door of the little house. She shoves the money in her pocket and turns around to face Jimin in the doorway.
“I'm sorry.”
Once she’s gone, Jimin’s knees hit the floor. He tries to swallow the sob that fights to leave his throat but it’s no use. Taehyung appears with his arms around Jimin’s torso, pulling the boy into his lap.
“You’ll never have to see her again.” Taehyung whispers, his lips pressed to Jimin’s hairline.
Jimin whimpers, he can’t see through the tears.
“I’ll never let you see her again.” Taehyung assures him, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I’ll never leave you like that, I promise.”
Jimin’s chest heaves, he gasps, trying to get a breath of air in his lungs.
Taehyung rubs the space between his shoulder blades. “I promise, Chim. I promise.”
+
After that, things with Taehyung changed.
He was more protective, like Hobi had been.
"Jimin," He was calling one night, his voice carried over from the kitchen. "Do you really think it's a good idea to meet up with this guy?"
Jimin looks up from his food, his stomach unsatisfied, but it's all they have.
He shrugs, swallowing a mouthful of dry rice. "We need the money."
"Well, yeah," Taehyung joins him on the couch. "But why not your dealer? Don't you trust him?"
Jimin shoots him a pointed look, "Seokie always spoke pretty highly of this guy, and how far is weed gonna get us, anyway?"
"I don't know, Chim. You're not really the coke dealing type."
Jimin snickers, leaning his shoulder into Taehyungs. "I won't start dealing coke, at least not until I've got a handle on the lesser drugs."
"What's this guy's name, anyway?" Taehyung asks. He places a hand on Jimin's leg, just above his knee.
"Kim Namjoon."
"And you got in contact with him how?"
Jimin sighs, "One of Hobi's friends gave my number to him. Trust me, Tae, this will be good for us."
"..Okay," Taehyung says. "But don't end up arrested, you're too pretty to go to jail."
Jimin grins. "You're an idiot."
When Jimin does meet Kim Namjoon it's in a nicer bar than Jimin is used to, and he feels a little underdressed in a hoodie and jeans.
Namjoon is a tall, muscular guy, not much older than Jimin but far more accomplished with what he does, at least Jimin assumes so. He’s intimidating, even with his hair dyed this awfully pastel shade of pink.
He sits across from Jimin with his jaw set tightly, his fingers tapping impatiently on the table.
"So you're J's guy?" He asks, blunt. He's not looking for an introduction.
Jimin nods, he eyes the rings on Namjoon's fingers.
“How do you know J?” Namjoon asks, eyes narrowed. He gives Jimin a once over.
Jimin fidgets in his seat. “We met at school.”
Namjoon’s eyebrows shoot up, surprise etching itself in his features. “You’re still in high school?”
Jimin worries his bottom lip. “No, I haven’t been in a while.”
Namjoon hums. “But you’re a minor?”
“Eighteen in October.” Jimin says swiftly.
“And why do you want to deal? What’s in it for you?“
Jimin likes to pride himself on being honest. “I need the extra cash.”
Namjoon nods, his face softens just a fraction. “You’re so young.”
Jimin scrunches up his face, because this guy clearly isn’t much older than him, and who’s he to judge Jimin just because he hasn’t yet crossed over into adulthood.
“Look, I'll take it, I need extra hands.” Namjoon huffs, leaning back in his seat. His hand is still extended on the table, tapping out some kind of sporadic rhythm. “I’ll get you set up dealing in some more inconspicuous areas, places where the cops aren’t crawling and more of your clients will be closer to your age.”
“So I’m selling drugs to high school kids?”
Namjoon nods, “That's correct. You in or what?”
The shock that grabs Jimin has him leaning forward to shake Namjoon’s hand. He hadn’t expected it to be that easy.
“Oh thank you,” He grips Namjoon’s hand. “Thank you so much sir.”
Namjoon cringes and waves Jimin off, “I’m hardly an adult, you can call me hyung.”
“Ah,” Jimin nods, “Thank you Namjoon-hyung.”
Something changes then, the intimidating exterior Namjoon had dissolves into something softer, more welcoming. Namjoon smiles at Jimin, two dimples making an appearance on either side of his face.
“I’ll get some of the guys to get you started, you just worry about gathering clients.”
Jimin nods, “I'm sure I already know a few.”
“I’ll be in touch in about a week.” Namjoon stands up, “Call me if you have any questions. Seokjin will drive you home.”
“Seokjin?”
Namjoon hums, “He’s hard to miss. Don’t piss him off, though. Hyung’s not scary, but he is fuckin’ dangerous, so don’t be stupid.”
And that’s it. It’s been all of five minutes and he’s secured himself a job and a dangerous contact.
Jimin watches Namjoon leave, and he zips up his hoodie as he steps out the front door, wondering who Seokjin is.
A man dressed business casual, a white collared shirt tucked into a pair of sleek black slacks, approaches him.
“Are you Seokjin?” Jimin asks, giving him a once over.
The man smiles, clearly amused, and Jimin finds himself just a little bit in awe of how gorgeous this guy is. He looks like a fucking movie star.
“I am.” Is all he answers, guiding Jimin down the street.
He opens the door to a low black sports car and Jimin raises an eyebrow, sliding into the passenger seat.
Seokjin doesn’t speak for the first five minutes of the drive, and Jimin finds himself sneaking sideways glances at the guy.
He looks so pristine, so put together, but he can’t be that much older than Jimin, really. He doesn’t look it. He looks accomplished, and he looks like he has fucking money. Jimin wants that.
“What's up, kid?” Seokjin asks, flicking on his turn signal. “You tryna ruin your life?”
Jimin looks at Seokjin, he watches the way his hands slide over the steering wheel.
“Life’s already ruined.”
Seokjin lets out a little ‘hm’, and comes to a stop at a red light.
“You can’t make a living off dealing weed and ecstasy.”
Jimin sighs, “I know, I’m not trying to. I just need a little extra money so Tae and I can get the fuck out of that house.”
“Ah,” Seokjin presses on the accelerator. “So you’re not in this for good.”
Jimin shakes his head, no. He never planned on going all in.
“I’ll have to let Joonah know, so that he doesn’t try to give you more than you can handle.”
“So he’s the boss? Or are you?”
“What?” Seokjin blinks, pulling the car into the next lane. “Neither of us are the boss, I don’t work for the same people Namjoon works for, and he’s pretty low down in the scheme of things.”
Oh. Jimin feels a rush of relief wash over him. He may be dealing with drug dealers, but he’s not dealing with people who are going to threaten to kill him if he can’t get a good grip on the whole dealer thing, thank god.
Seokjin chuckles, “Joonah likes to set it up like we’re big scary guys, but he and I are nothing to be worried about. He’s just gotten good at dealing severely mediocre coke, and I’m good at keeping him safe.” Seokjin pulls the car to a stop, looking over at Jimin. “Don’t sweat it kid, you’re gonna be dealing to high school kids and reporting back to Joonah. He’s a big softie.”
Jimin smiles, just a little bit, and directs Seokjin the rest of the way to his house.
Before Jimin exits the car Seokjin stops him.
“Don’t go looking for more than you’ve been given, okay kid? Extra cash isn’t all that, I don’t want you getting yourself killed.”
Jimin knows he’s right. This is a low level job, something that could get him back on his feet. It’s really nothing more, and he hopes it stays that way.
+
The summertime is busy for Jimin.
His clients are students, both highschool and college. They’re willing to pay more than the weed is worth, and Jimin doesn’t mind.
Namjoon visits him a lot, he’s made sure to keep Jimin out of any trouble, and he sends Seokjin around every now and then too.
One night in July Namjoon brings Jimin and Taehyung over to his and Seokjin’s apartment. A nice little modern thing in the middle of the city.
He has floor to ceiling windows in the living room, and dark wood cabinets in the kitchen.
Jimin sits on the couch, staring out into the city. He watches distant cars make their way through the gloom. Tiny people with umbrellas cross through the streets.
“This is what I want.” He says over a glass of wine, dark and bitter on his tongue.
Rain consumes the city, drowning it. Dark clouds hang over the buildings.
Taehyung sneaks up beside Jimin, nudging him until he slides himself onto the floor, making space for Taehyung on the couch. Jimin crosses his legs and Taehyung sits with his legs parted around Jimin, one knee on either side of his shoulders, leaning forward so that he can rest his chin on the top of Jimin’s head.
“Next year we’ll get our own place.” Taehyung muses, his breath ruffles Jimin’s hair.
It’s faded now, the orange having turned a peachy blonde. His roots are dark and his hair is long enough to frame his face. He should dye it again, maybe a new colour, or maybe more of the same.
Namjoon joins them in the living room, sitting to Jimin’s left on this big comfy looking armchair he has. He sets his own glass of wine on the coffee table and taps his fingers on his knees.
“Hyung said about twenty minutes until dinner’s ready.” He announces, and Jimin sets his glass down.
Over the last few months he’s come to realize that Seokjin and Namjoon are… well, something, clearly.
Jimin had thought they were just an odd pair of best friends, two men who had come together somewhere between the world of selling low-level drugs and the business world, but it appears to be more than that.
Namjoon leans forward, “So how long have you two been together?” He asks, an attempt at breaking the ice.
Jimin snorts, he feels Taehyung’s legs tense just the slightest bit.
“We’re not together.” Jimin explains, “Living together for about a year now, I guess since we met.”
Taehyung runs his fingers down the back of Jimin’s neck, Jimin leans into the touch.
“Sorry,” Namjoon looks embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to assume.”
Jimin shrugs, he takes a sip of the wine. It sits heavy on his tongue.
"What about you and Jin-hyung?"
Namjoon visibly cringes, he grimaces. "We met four years ago in the same program.”
"Program?" Taehyung asks. He drags his fingernails across Jimin's scalp, making the smaller boy shiver.
Namjoon nods, he reaches for his wine glass.
"Like, rehab, but for troubled teens or whatever."
And ah, it makes sense to Jimin. The tapping, Jimin has seen it before.
Jimin knows Taehyung wants to ask questions. He always does.
"How long were you there?"
Namjoon leans back in his seat. He takes a long sip of wine.
"Almost two years. I relapsed twice after being back home."
Taehyung hums and slips his fingers down the back of Jimin's neck, resting them just below the neckline of his shirt.
"I'm glad you're okay Namjoonie-hyung." Taehyung says, sliding his hands forward against Jimin's shoulders.
"Me too." A voice says from behind them. Jimin turns to see Seokjin in the doorway.
He joins Namjoon, perching himself on the arm of his chair.
"Though I wasn't in because I was addicted to fucking oxy's." He smirks at Namjoon and Namjoon smacks his shoulder gently.
Taehyung massages the skin between Jimin's shoulders and neck. Jimin sighs.
"Why were you there?" Taehyung asks curiously. Jimin rests his cheek on Taehyung's thigh, looking up at Seokjin through his eyelashes.
"Tried to kill myself so many times that my parents sent me away."
Silence falls over the room, Taehyung's fingers freeze in their place.
"I'm sorry." He whispers, and Jimin feels his heart grow heavy in his chest.
Seokjin shrugs, "No reason to be sorry, kid." He leans over, resting his head atop Namjoon's. "I have a reason to stay here now."
+
By October, Jimin has enough income to pay rent for a very, very small apartment, which is where he and Taehyung find themselves.
It's just a one bedroom, maybe six hundred or so square feet, but it's enough.
The two of them are used to sharing space, fuck, Jimin had been close to sharing showers with Taehyung just to save water in his mother's house, so this is just fine.
Jimin's eighteenth birthday rolls around quickly, and Namjoon, Seokjin, and Taehyung insist on throwing him a quote unquote party. This consists of too much soju and Jimin's choice of movies, which is how they find themselves curled up together on Jimin's floor watching Ghibli movies.
Taehyung is trying to act like he's not crying over the movie, and Jimin smiles to himself.
Over the last year and a bit Jimin has come to find out that Taehyung tends to get emotional when he drinks. They don't drink often, with being underage and whatnot, but that's never stopped Jimin in the past.
Jimin feels happier than he has in a long time, and he knows he still has a long way to go, but it's something. It's more than he could have asked for.
When the movie comes to a close Jimin finds himself curled up against Taehyung's chest, Taehyung's arm wrapped protectively around his back.
"Chim," Taehyung is saying. "'S almost three."
"Ah," Jimin shifts, "Namjoonie-hyung, Seokjinnie-hyung, are you okay on the couch?"
Seokjin is lost somewhere amongst all the blankets on the floor, giggling.
"Hyung says yes." Namjoon answers, pulling the blankets down so that Seokjin's head pops up.
"I don't want to know what's happening over there." Taehyung says, pushing Jimin off him so that he can stand up.
Taehyung sways a little on his feet as he stands, reaching over to pull Jimin up with him.
“‘S bed time.” Jimin announces, bowing in the direction of the two older boys. “Please don’t fuck on my couch.”
Seokjin laughs and Namjoon groans, throwing his head back against the couch.
“We would never do that to you Jiminie.” Namjoon promises. Taehyung pulls on Jimin’s hand, dragging him across the room.
Jimin salutes in the direction of Namjoon and Seokjin and calls, “Goodnight, my friends!” And Taehyung is pulling him into their bedroom.
Taehyung shuts the door behind them and topples onto the bed with as little grace as humanly possible, but he rolls over onto his back and motions for Jimin to join him.
Jimin pulls his sweater over his head and drops it somewhere on the floor, clicking off the light and crawling into the bed next to Taehyung.
Taehyung wraps his arms around Jimin’s torso, pulling him flush against his chest.
“Did you have a good birthday?” He asks quietly, and Jimin smiles.
“The best, thank you.”
Taehyung hums. “‘M gonna be eighteen soon too.”
“Yeah,” Jimin chuckles, “Only two months away.”
Taehyung sighs, and he places a hand on Jimin’s head, smoothing down his hair.
“‘M scared.” He slurs, looking down at Jimin.
Jimin meets his eyes, his features illuminated softly from the streetlights outside the window.
“I’ve been eighteen for twenty-seven hours, ‘s not so scary.”
Taehyung brings his thumb to Jimin’s cheek, he looks sad. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth.
“I’m gonna say something stupid.”
Jimin laughs, propping himself up so he hovers over Taehyung, his hands holding him up on either side of Taehyung’s head.
“What is it?” Jimin asks, his eyes feel heavy, the room spins a little.
“You know that day that we talked ‘bout our futures?”
Jimin nods.
“You said you wanna be loved.” Taehyung states, he reaches a hand up to cup Jimin’s cheek, and Jimin notices water in the corners of Taehyung’s eyes. He’s drunk, he always gets like this.
Jimin hums in agreement, he remembers.
“I wanna do that for you, if you let me.”
Jimin sucks in a breath, one that turns his lungs to ice.
He doesn’t… He hadn’t considered that Taehyung would feel this way, he’d been too selfish to even consider it.
“Tae…” Jimin trails, holding his breath. “You love me like that?”
Taehyung swipes his thumb across Jimin’s cheek.
“I’ll love you in any way you need.”
Jimin’s eyes blur, and he blinks rapidly, trying to clear away the tears.
“You don’t love me, Tae. You can’t.”
Taehyung stares at him with something akin to sympathy, he swipes away the tears on Jimin’s cheeks.
“I do.” He says quietly, “I do.”
Jimin drops down onto Taehyung’s chest again, sniffling into the fabric of his t-shirt.
“You don’t.” Jimin pleads, he whimpers and Taehyung runs his fingers through Jimin’s hair. “You don’t, Taehyung. You don’t, you can’t.”
Taehyung sucks in a breath, his chest shudders below Jimin’s cheek.
“I do, Chim.” His voice is soft, gentle and slurred.
Jimin shakes his head, he tries to stop the tears from falling but it’s no use.
“You can’t. You can’t, okay? You can’t.” Jimin’s voice breaks, his words rushing out, strewn together, making them almost incoherent.
He shudders and Taehyung presses a kiss to the top of his head.
“‘S okay.” He whispers. “You don’t need to love me back.”
Jimin cries quietly into Taehyung’s chest, wetting his shirt with silent tears.
It’s not a matter of whether or not Jimin could love him back, it’s that Jimin’s never had that before. How could someone love him when he’s such a fucking mess?
Jimin feels Taehyung’s chest rise and fall rapidly, and he knows he’s working to fight off his own tears.
He murmurs something softly, pulling his fingers through Jimin’s hair, slow and comforting.
Jimin cries until his eyelids grow heavy, seemingly all out of tears.
“‘M sorry.” He whispers into the dark. “I’m so sorry.”
Taehyung shushes him, rubbing a hand on the back of Jimin’s neck, reassuring him.
“Chim, ‘s okay.”
And Jimin doesn’t believe him. He doesn’t think he ever could.
+
It’s December when Hoseok comes home.
Jimin is standing outside the glass doors of Incheon Airport, one of Taehyung's puffy winter coats draped over his shoulders, zipped up right to his chin to keep the cold air out.
Taehyung had practically forced it on him, nagging him that it's too cold to go without one, and he'll get hypothermia and die, and then who will Taehyung cuddle with at night? Certainly not Jimin.
Jimin stuffs his hands in his pockets. He's waiting next to a taxi, watching the stream of people come through the doors, pulling their suitcases behind them and flagging down their own taxis.
Hoseok had told Jimin on the phone that his plane would land around ten in the evening, so Jimin had pulled up at ten, ready to see his best friend again.
It's only after Jimin starts to get anxious that he hears a familiar squeal, and then he spots Hoseok, his hair dark and messy, right behind the doors.
Hoseok drops his suitcase and takes off running, leaving his bag in the middle of the crowd in favour of sprinting at Jimin full speed. Jimin takes a second to brace himself, and a moment later he's met with a mouthful of his best friend's hair. He's pushed back with the force of the hug and he almost topples over, giggling as Hoseok's legs wrap around his midsection.
"My Jiminie." Hobi whines, burrowing his face into the collar of Jimin's jacket. "I missed you."
And then Jimin's crying like a child who missed his parents, face pressed into the soft dark hair on Hoseok's head.
"I missed you too." He says, chuckling weakly as his shoulders shake. "So fucking much."
Hoseok drops his legs back down on the ground and steps back, hands on either side of Jimin's face, to give him a once over.
"You grew into your cheeks." He says, a big smile stretching across his face. "You're old now."
Jimin flashes a teary smile and attempts to turn away from Hoseok's eyes, looking over his shoulder.
A boy stands a few feet away, Hoseok's suitcase in his hands, an uncomfortable look on his face.
"Who's that?" Jimin asks, and Hoseok turns to see what Jimin's looking at.
"Oh!" Hoseok pulls his hands away, "This is Jungkook!"
The boy waves awkwardly, and Jimin looks him up and down, taking in his appearance. He has large eyes that take up almost half his face, doe-like and innocent. They're glassy, almost as if a few stray stars are trapped there, and he flashes a big bunny-like smile at Jimin.
"Jiminie, Jungkook, Jungkookie, Jimin." Hoseok says, looking back and forth between the two of them.
Jungkook can't be any older than seventeen, Jimin decides, and he wonders where Hoseok picked up a teenager from, given the fact that he'll be nineteen in two months.
"Jungkookie and I shared a dorm," Hoseok explains. "He's gonna be staying with me once I'm back on my feet."
Jimin nods and uses the back of his hand to swipe away any remaining tear tracks on his face.
"I got us a taxi," Jimin says, motioning behind himself. "I wasn't sure where you'd want to stay, but mine and Tae's couch is available, and apparently quite comfortable, according to Namjoon-hyung."
Hoseok beams at him, and steps over to take his suitcase from Jungkook.
"That's right, you moved out! Oh Jiminie, I'm so proud of you." Hoseok gushes, and Jimin feels his cheeks heat up. "I'd love to meet Taehyung, if you guys don't mind."
Jimin nods shyly and walks around the car to the trunk, where Hoseok and Jungkook join him to store their bags.
"Can Jungkookie stay?" Hoseok asks, and Jimin nods enthusiastically.
"If you don't mind sharing the couch." Jimin says, and Hoseok presses a kiss to his cheek.
The three of them slide into the back seat of the taxi, Jimin on the left, Jungkook on the right, and Hoseok sandwiched between them.
Jimin directs the taxi and they're on their way.
"I have so much to tell you," Hoseok says, leaning his head over so that it bumps against Jimin. "But I'm so tired."
Jimin chuckles, pressing a hand to Hoseok's knee. "You can tell me later, or tomorrow. We have all the time in the world."
Hoseok yawns, and Jimin fights back his own.
"Yeah," Hoseok murmurs. "Us against the world."
Jimin grins.
When they pull up to Jimin and Taehyung's apartment, Jimin and Jungkook have to haul Hoseok into the elevator. He claims he's too tired to walk, so the two younger boys drag him down the hallway and through the front door.
The lights are out, and Jimin imagines Taehyung's already found himself a place in their bed, with it being almost midnight now.
Jimin flicks on the foyer light and kicks off his shoes, pulling Hoseok's suitcase into the living room with him.
He makes to setting up the pull out couch, and finds Jungkook next to him, lifting up the bottom of the couch for him.
Hoseok drapes himself over Jimin's back, humming into his shoulder while he spreads out a few blankets over the mattress.
"Thank you, Jiminie."
Jimin hums and sits Hoseok down on the bed so that he can retrieve some pillows for the two boys.
"Bathroom's just down the hall," Jimin says, pointing across the room for the two of them. "Help yourself to anything in the kitchen."
Hoseok giggles. "Such a thoughtful host."
Jimin grins. "Make yourselves at home."
"Goodnight, Jiminie." Hoseok says, flopping backward on the mattress.
"Night hyung." Jimin returns. He turns away from the two boys.
"Goodnight Jimin-ssi." Jungkook calls, and Jimin realizes it's the first time he's spoken all night. "Thank you for hosting me."
Jimin bites back a smile, "Goodnight, Jungkook."
+
It’s two days later when Jimin goes with Hoseok to see his family.
Hoseok’s parents had been the ones to send him away, and over the past year and a half Jimin knows that Hoseok’s started to resent them. It’s evident in the way he speaks about them, even over distant phone calls Jimin had picked up on the bitterness in Hoseok’s voice.
It’s starting to snow when they walk up the front steps of his parents house, and Hoseok pauses.
He grabs at Jimin’s coat sleeve, pulling him to a halt.
“I don’t want to go back there.” Hoseok whispers, and Jimin notices his bottom lip quivering. “What if they send me away again?”
Jimin turns to face his friend, placing both his hands on Hoseok’s shoulders.
“We won’t stay.” Jimin says firmly. “They can’t send you away if we don’t stay.”
Hoseok shuts his eyes and nods.
Jimin says, “Plus, you’re almost nineteen. You don’t have to listen to them anymore.”
Hoseok sucks in a breath and opens his eyes again, trekking up the slippery steps. He knocks swiftly on the front door, and Jimin stands shoulder to shoulder with him.
There’s the sound of shuffling, and someone calls out to get the door, and then it’s swinging open and a girl a few years older than them, with the same eyes and nose and Hoseok, is facing them. Hoseok’s sister.
“Ah..” Her voice trails off and her eyes grow wide. “You’re back.”
Hoseok nods tightly, and then she’s calling for his parents.
She turns over her shoulder, “Eomma! Appa! He’s back!”
The sound of footsteps comes and Hoseok’s parents are in the doorway, giving Jimin a pair of distasteful glares.
“Eomma. Appa.”
Hoseok’s mother takes a step forward, pushing past his sister. She reaches out and tugs Hoseok into a hug, burying her face in his hair.
“Oh my baby.” She coos, and Jimin feels awkward standing in the cold.
He studies his shoes, listening to Hoseok’s mother as she points out all the things that are different about him.
“Your hair is so long! We should take you for a haircut, hm? And your clothes are so loose on you! Ah no worries, none at all. I’ll get you fed, wouldn’t you like that sweetheart?”
And Jimin, well, Jimin feels sick. Jimin longs for a mother to take him in like that, he would kill for that type of love, but Hoseok is here to turn it down.
“Actually, Eomma,” Hoseok says, pulling away. “I’m not here to stay.”
Jimin looks up, watching as Hoseok’s mothers face contorts from joyful into something more sinister and heartbroken.
His father speaks up, “Let’s talk about this after you’ve settled in.”
Hoseok shakes his head. “I’m not settling in, Appa. I’m not coming back.”
“Hoseok,” His father says. “This is your home, we’re your family, where else are you going to go?”
Hoseok shrugs, he stuffs his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know yet, but I’m not staying here.”
“Why?” His mom asks, her voice quiet, almost broken.
“You sent me away.”
Jimin watches Hoseok’s father’s face change. It hardens.
“You sent me away and you didn’t bother to keep track of when I’d be back, so that’s it. If you don’t want me around, I won’t be.”
“You know that’s not true.” His mother says. “We want you around.”
Hoseok takes a step back, just out of her reach. “No, it’s okay.” He says. “I know when I’m not wanted.”
“So you came all the way here to tell us you won’t come home?” His father asks. Hoseok nods.
“I figured you wouldn’t ask if I didn’t show up.”
Silence falls over them, unsure of how to tell their son that no, they probably wouldn’t have.
“If you need me, you know how to find me.” Hoseok says, and he turns on his heels making his way down the front steps and out into the yard.
Jimin offers them an awkward nod and hurries after his friend.
When he reaches Hoseok, Jimin takes in the redness around his eyes, he looks heartbroken. “Take me home.” He says.
Jimin realizes with a start that Hoseok doesn’t have a home. He doesn’t have a place to himself, but Jimin will give his best friend one, no matter what.
+
Hoseok finds himself and Jungkook an apartment by the time March comes around.
Jimin has to give it to him, he was able to get a steady job within the first three weeks of being home. Hoseok’s been hard working since the day Jimin met him. He has drive, and he’s never been one to give up. Jimin often finds himself in awe of his friend. He wishes it were so easy for him.
Jimin and Taehyung help Hoseok and Jungkook move in on the first of the month.
Jungkook’s been taking evening classes, he works as a server during the day, between the two of them they were able to find a two bedroom apartment not too far from Jimin and Taehyung’s.
Over the past three months both Jimin and Taehyung have taken a liking to Jungkook. He’s shy and sweet, but he fits in with the rest of them like a missing piece, and Jimin is beginning to see his little friend group come together.
Seokjin and Namjoon have seemingly adopted Jungkook as their little brother. Jungkook looks up to Namjoon a serious amount, no matter how many times Seokjin tells him not to make a role model out of a drug dealer.
Taehyung, however, has taken to Jungkook in a far different way to the rest of them.
To Jimin, Jungkook seems to be the missing piece for Taehyung. Something about him Taehyung needed, and Jimin thinks that deep down they both knew there was an empty piece.
Taehyung has started sticking to Jungkook, and really, Jimin doesn’t mind too much. It seems that neither does Jungkook, he actually looks to enjoy the attention.
It’s not until after moving all of Hoseok’s and Jungkook’s boxes up that Jimin finds himself sandwiched between Hoseok’s legs on the floor. Hoseok is leaning with his back against Jungkook’s legs. Jungkook is perched in an armchair, Taehyung draped across his lap.
Jimin rests the back of his head against Hoseok’s shoulder, a curled up piece of rolling paper pressed against the tip of his tongue, sealing it.
Hoseok speaks, mostly to the room. “Do you think we’d still be friends if we’d had normal lives?”
Jimin searches his pockets for a lighter.
“Honestly? No,” Taehyung says earnestly. “I’d still be in Busan.”
Hoseok hums, he rests his head against Jimin’s.
“Do you think we’d be friends, Jimin?”
Jimin locates a lighter, holding it up to his lips. He nods.
“I think we still could have met in school.”
Jungkook speaks up and Jimin takes a sharp inhale of smoke.
He addresses Hoseok, “I don’t think I’d be here if you hadn’t been in my dorm, hyungie.”
Jimin passes Hoseok the joint, Hoseok leans his head back.
“Ah, my Kookie.” He squeezes one of Jungkook’s legs with his hand. “Where would I be without you.”
Jungkook chuckles. “Good question.”
Hoseok sucks in a breath, holding the smoke in his lungs. He hands the joint off to Jungkook.
He exhales. “I think I’d be dead, honestly.”
Jimin freezes, but Hoseok’s body doesn’t tense, not even a little bit.
Taehyung asks a question. He always asks questions.
“Why?”
Hoseok shrugs, he presses his nose into Jimin’s hair.
“You try feeling unwanted by your family in a new city by yourself. Nobody talks about the rate of attempted suicide in schools like that.”
Jimin turns his head, burying his face in Hoseok’s neck.
Taehyung responds. “I get it. I came here, after all.”
Hoseok nods solemnly. “Jungkookie helped a lot.” He says, smiling a little. “Nothing keeps you alive like picking fights with the kids who try to hurt your maknae.”
Jimin looks up, “You picked fights?”
Hoseok chuckles. “So many fights Jiminie. It was ridiculous.”
Jungkook passes the joint to Taehyung. “He was like, the coolest person in the school. He started so many fights that people were afraid of me, if I showed up J-Hope had to be close by.”
Jimin finds himself laughing, he remembers what Hoseok was like in high school, how the people flocked to him. He always knew how to control a group, it’s how he got connected with Namjoon, it’s ultimately how Jimin managed to get to this point.
“Ah, big scary J-Hope.” Jimin teases, taking the joint as it’s passed back into his hands. He props it in his mouth. “You’ve got such a reputation.”
Hoseok leans into Jimin, giggling, and Jimin finds that he had missed this. He hopes Hoseok never leaves again, he doesn’t know what he’d do without his sunshine around.
+
Jimin meets Yoongi in May.
It's a rainy evening, maybe around nine or ten at night, when Jimin walks through the front door of his apartment and drops his keys on the table by the door.
He can hear voices coming from the kitchen, and he kicks off his shoes, shrugs off his jacket, and hangs it up by the door.
It's been a long day. Jimin's been looking out for a steady job, putting in applications pretty much wherever he can. Taehyung's been doing the same. It's frustrating for Jimin, because he has an apartment that he pays rent for, almost always on time, and he's quite capable, but every job he comes across demands more experience than he has. He's tired, sick of being rejected, and quite frankly, ready for bed.
Jimin shuffles into the kitchen where Taehyung is leaning against the counter, a glass of white wine in his hands, head thrown back in a laugh.
A boy with minty green hair is seated at the table, his back to Jimin. He's leaning over the table, head propped up on his hand, a similar wine glass sitting in front of him.
Both boys' heads turn when Jimin enters the room, and he feels a little uncomfortable.
"Oh," Jimin says. "Hi." He raises one hand in a pathetic half-wave.
"Chim!" Taehyung beams, and Jimin can tell immediately that he's drunk. He's too obvious.
"Hi Tae," Jimin nods, he nods at the other sitting at the table. "I don't think we've met."
"Ah," He starts to say, but Taehyung cuts him off.
"This is Yoongi!"
Yoongi nods at the mention of his name, and offers Jimin an awkward smile.
"Hi Yoongi." Jimin greets, and he doesn't know what to do with his hands.
"Chim," Taehyung says, "Join us for a bit?"
Jimin shrugs. He really wants to go to bed.
Taehyung stares at him with this pouty, begging, puppy-like look and Jimin crumbles. He'll always crumble for Taehyung.
Taehyung pours him a small glass of wine and Jimin takes a seat at the table across from Yoongi, sipping his wine and frowning down at his jeans.
Taehyung speaks to the room. "Yoongi and I knew each other in Busan." He explains.
Jimin acknowledges this with an "ah," and he thinks briefly that he doesn't really know what Taehyung's life was like before Seoul, other than his father.
"We were friends in school," Yoongi elaborates. "We knew each other for a long time."
"We knew each other very well," Taehyung says, and Jimin looks up at him. Taehyung smiles crookedly. "Very well."
And oh, something uncomfortable curls up in Jimin's stomach.
Taehyung giggles, and Jimin takes a sip from his wine glass, avoiding his eyes.
Yoongi rolls his eyes, pointedly looking at Jimin. "How long have you and Tae been together?"
Jimin isn't sure he likes the nickname on Yoongi's lips, no matter how soft they appear to be.
It's Jimin's turn to roll his eyes, "We aren't together."
Jimin pretends not to see the smile fall from Taehyung's face. He pointedly looks away when Taehyung visibly tenses up.
Yoongi looks shocked, "Fuck, sorry," Jimin shoots him an uncomfortable smile. "Tae talks about you like a long lost soulmate or something."
Taehyung scoffs and Jimin downs the rest of his wine. He really, really wants to go to bed.
Jimin counts to twenty in his head before he stands up from the table.
"It was really nice to briefly meet you," He says to Yoongi. "But I'm fucking exhausted."
Taehyung whines, reaching for Jimin as he passes the younger boy.
"'Haven't seen you all day, Chim."
Jimin leans over and presses a kiss to Taehyung's temple. "I'll be here tomorrow."
"What if you die in your sleep?"
Jimin chuckles, "Then I'll die knowing the last person I kissed was my long lost soulmate."
Taehyung swats him away. "I'm writing that on your grave."
"Ooh, how scary."
It's like Yoongi isn't in the room when he looks at Taehyung. Nothing exists in Jimin’s world outside of the taller brunette.
"'Here lies Chim, loving room mate, best friend, and Tete's long lost soulmate."
"Perfect," Jimin says. He pulls away from Taehyung. "Goodnight."
+
Jimin hears more and more about Yoongi as the weeks pass.
Jimin's leaning over Namjoon's laptop, editing his resume, when Taehyung pushes his arms out of the way and sits directly in Jimin's lap, blocking the laptop.
"I was busy, but okay." Jimin teases, leaning back into the couch.
"I applied to Yoongi-hyung's work today," Taehyung says, wrapping his arms around Jimin's neck. He sits sideways on Jimin's lap, with his legs stretched out on the couch. "He's gonna put in a good word for me."
"Is that so?"
Taehyung hums.
"Why did you never tell me about him?"
Taehyung shrugs, he gazes at Jimin through his eyelashes.
"When did you reconnect with him?" Jimin asks, studying Taehyung's face.
Taehyung shrugs again, "It just kind of happened. Jungkook took me to this bar in the city and he was there. I haven't seen or heard from him in like, three years?"
Jimin nods, “You’re going to bars with Jungkook?” He asks.
Taehyung nods. “He’s fun to be around.”
Jimin raises an eyebrow. “He’s a minor.”
“With a believable fake ID, you’re right.”
Jimin chuckles, "So you and Yoongi,” He switches the conversation topic back. “You guys were what, like in a relationship or something?" He tries to sound nonchalant, does he sound nonchalant?
Taehyung scoffs, "Not a relationship, no. Why?"
Jimin shrugs, "Just curious. I don't know that much about your past."
"Yoongi-hyung had a really rough go with his family when he was a teenager." Taehyung offers. "Kicked out at sixteen, couch surfing through most of school. I used to sneak him into my house after my dad fell asleep. He was the first person whoever made me feel worth something, and in turn I guess he introduced me to love."
Jimin watches Taehyung as he speaks, he watches the emotions flicker across his face.
"Love?" Jimin asks.
Taehyung bumps his shoulder. "What is this, twenty questions?" Jimin laughs. "I'd never had someone other than my sister care about me, and Yoongi-hyung cared about me more than I expected him to."
Taehyung leans his head against Jimin's shoulder. "Most people say that teenagers don't know shit about love, but hyung taught me a lot. He deserved a lot better, and it didn't help that I left him stranded for another city. I abandoned my best friend."
Jimin gets it, he thinks. Yoongi was Taehyung's first love, the first person he trusted like that.
"I'll never do that, okay?"
Jimin doesn't know what he means, he looks at Taehyung curiously. "Do what?"
"I'll never leave the person I love."
Jimin squirms in Taehyung's arms.
"Chim," Taehyung whispers, and Jimin doesn't want him to continue. "I'll never leave you. I promise."
Jimin tries to answer, but his voice dies in his throat. "I know." He tries to say. "I know you won't." It comes out more of a croak, his voice hoarse.
"Okay," Taehyung says. "As long as you know."
He knows, he wishes he didn't know. And he wishes he could say it back.
+
Taehyung gets the job working with Yoongi, almost immediately.
It's an attendant position in a music store, and Taehyung absolutely loves it.
Jungkook visits him so often that Yoongi starts to know him on a nickname basis, and after only four weeks on the job, Yoongi is adopted into their little bubble.
The minty haired boy and Namjoon get along well, and Jimin can tell Hoseok likes him. Hoseok only acts mildly distant because Jimin tells him he's not personally so enamoured by the guy, and Hoseok is far too loyal to go for the people Jimin’s not fond of.
It's not like Yoongi has done anything to deserve Jimin's distaste. It’s more of the opposite, really.
He's been nothing but pleasant and Jimin gets why his friends like the guy.
Yoongi's quiet, but not in a shy way like Jungkook. He's very observant, and he's able to read a room better than anyone Jimin's met.
Taehyung, Jimin decides, is the root of his problem.
Taehyung acts… differently around Yoongi. Maybe it's their history, they clearly went through a lot as kids, or maybe it's Taehyung's clear need for every fucking person he meets to validate him. It's starting to get on Jimin's nerves.
As much as Taehyung has taken to Jungkook, Jungkook has taken to Yoongi.
He looks at the guy like he's a fucking idol, all shy and embarassed whenever Yoongi adresses him directly, and in turn Taehyung has gotten weird and protective of Jungkook. He's been stuck to the younger boys' side for the past month.
Jimin is leaning against the counter while Taehyung works, Jungkook sitting up on the countertop, one hand extended out behind him, propping him up, and the other scrolling through his phone.
"You're not supposed to sit up there, Kook. Yoongi-hyung's gonna kill you." Taehyung says, leaning over so he can perch his head on Jungkook's shoulder, watching whatever annoying clip it is that Jungkook keeps giggling at.
Jungkook shrugs, "He doesn't get mad at me."
Taehyung shoves his shoulder gently and turns back to the CD's he'd been stickering. Yoongi steps out of the back room, glancing at Jungkook and shuffling across the store toward the front, not a word about his position.
Jimin's been here for all of three minutes, and he hasn't been acknowledged by Taehyung. He clears his throat.
"Not even a hello?" It's meant to be said like a weak joke, but it comes out all bitter and sour.
Jungkook looks over at Jimin, surprised.
Taehyung turns too, his eyebrows raised.
"It's just that I haven't seen you in like, three days, and I brought you lunch." Jimin explains, dropping the bag of food on the table.
"Oh," Taehyung says. "Thanks, Chim. Yoongi-hyung already bought us lunch, though."
Jimin frowns, glancing between his bag on the table and Taehyung's sheepish expression.
"Of course he did." Jimin hisses, pushing the bag forward about an arms length.
Taehyung furrows his eyebrows, "Okay," He says. "Yeah, he's my manager, so."
Jungkook straightens up on the counter, watching Jimin curiously, like he's interesting.
"Could you stop fucking staring at me?" Jimin snaps, and Jungkook's face turns bright red. He pushes himself off the counter swiftly, mumbling that he's sorry, and disappears into the back of the store.
Taehyung stares at Jimin. "Jesus, Chim. What's your problem?"
And really, what is Jimin's problem? Why does he feel the need to pick a fight at two o'clock in the afternoon on a Tuesday?
"I haven't seen you in days and you don't even raise your head at me."
Taehyung shrugs. His shoulders are tense and he's gripping a CD with shaky hands.
"Still nothing then." Jimin says, tossing a plastic wrapped pair of chopsticks onto the counter next to the food.
"I don't know what you're asking of me, Chim. I already had lunch, and I'll be home after my shift. I see you every day, we share a fuckin' bed. I don't see the issue."
"The issue is that you're being fucking weird, Tae."
Taehyung sighs, placing the CD somewhere below the counter.
"Weird how?" He asks, keeping his eyes cast downward.
Jimin takes a deep breath. "Weird like you're trying to edge me out."
Taehyung looks shocked for a moment, looking at Jimin with wide eyes. "Why would I try to edge you out?"
Jimin fiddles with his sleeves. "Because you have Yoongi-hyung," He meets Taehyung's eyes. "And Jungkookie."
"Chim," Taehyung sighs, "I don't get your problem with Yoongi-hyung."
Jimin is quick to defend himself. "I don't have a problem." His voice is bitter.
Taehyung raises an eyebrow. "You say I've gotten weird but you've become a whole new person since I brought him into the picture."
"No I haven't."
"Are you jealous of him or something?"
Jimin scoffs. "The fuck would I be jealous of?"
"I don't know, his relationship with me or something."
What the fuck?
"Are you kidding me Tae?"
Taehyung rolls his eyes. He crosses his arms against his chest. "I don't fuckin' know, Jimin. You're accusing me of being weird and I haven't done a thing to make you think so. You have some weird one-sided issue with Yoongi when he's been nothing but fuckin' nice to you. It's not like he's come to steal me from you, for fucks sake."
"I don't… I'm not.. Fuck, Tae. Is that what you think I am? Some jealous asshole?"
"You're kind of fuckin' acting like it."
Jimin takes a step back, wounded.
"Seokie thinks you're being weird too. He doesn't like Yoongi that much." And Jimin has to admit, he's just trying to stir shit up.
Taehyung huffs, "No he doesn't, quit being childish, Jimin."
"I'm not being fucking childish, I came to bring you lunch and you fucking ignored me."
"Because you're being fucking weird!"
"So are you!"
"Jesus, Jimin! Why are you coming after me for something that's in your own head!"
Jimin throws his hands on the counter, steadying his breath.
"I- I don't know, okay?"
"Okay."
"Are Jungkook and Yoongi more interesting than me?"
Taehyung looks at Jimin curiously, and asks, "What?"
"You heard me."
"What? No, Chim, what's with the jealousy?"
Jimin leans forward so he can toss the chopsticks at Taehyung with just enough force that he flinches when they hit the wall beside his head.
"I'm not fucking jealous, Tae! Stop saying that!"
Taehyung motions around himself dramatically. "You're literally throwing a jealous fit!"
Jimin reaches forward, knocking the food with his hand so it topples sideways. A container of sauce spills across the counter and Taehyung makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat.
"Enjoy your fucking food." Jimin spits, turning on his heels.
He makes it through the front door and down half block before he hears his name being called after him.
He keeps walking, a dull attempt at storming off, when a hand finally reaches his shoulder to stop him.
It's Yoongi that stops him, of all the people in the world.
"What?" Jimin hisses. He crosses his arms over his chest.
"Look, I know it's not my place, and I know you don't like me, but can I walk with you?"
Jimin doesn't say no.
Yoongi walks in step with Jimin, sneaking sideways glances at the younger boy.
"Do you wanna talk about it?" Yoongi asks awkwardly.
No, he doesn't.
"No."
"Okay," Yoongi responds, reaching into his pockets. "Do you want a smoke?"
Yeah, he really fucking does.
Jimin nods and Yoongi offers a pack of cigarettes to him. Jimin pulls a lighter from his coat pocket and lights up his own cigarette, following by lighting Yoongi's as well.
They stop next to an alley, watching smoke rise against the warm air.
Yoongi speaks into the silence.
"You shouldn't take it personally, you know."
Jimin looks at him, studying him.
Yoongi sucks in a breath, swallowing smoke. He exhales, long and slow.
"When Taehyung was a teenager he went through a lot of shit in a short amount of time. I can't speak for him, but I know he's not acting to spite you, Jimin."
"How would you know?"
"He did the same to me, he's always been someone to seek out comfort. If you can't give him what he needs he finds someone who can. It doesn't mean he loves you any less."
Jimin inhales the smoke, holding it in his lungs for a long moment.
"How does he know I can't give him what he needs?" And it's an empty question. Jimin remembers the night Taehyung told him how he felt. He's never forgotten it, even after so many months.
Yoongi shrugs. "Right person, wrong time or whatever."
Maybe Yoongi's right, maybe Taehyung just needs time.
Maybe he can't give Taehyung what he needs.
"I don't not like you." Jimin says, looking at Yoongi pointedly.
Yoongi frowns. "You're protective of him, I get it."
"I don't."
Yoongi shrugs. "But you love him, don't you?"
And ah, maybe Jimin does.
+
The summer goes by fast, July turns to September and the leaves start to change, painting the city in warm oranges and reds.
Jimin finds himself seated next to Yoongi on the floor of Hoseok and Jungkook's apartment one evening, not long after Jungkook's eighteenth birthday. Hoseok had claimed this would be a game night, and the rest of the group are seated in various positions around the coffee table, empty cans of beer and bottles of soju cluttering the space surrounding them.
Jimin and Taehyung have managed to fix the patch in their relationship, returning things to almost normal, almost.
Jimin still feels weird about their argument. He knows that Taehyung thinks Jimin is jealous, and he doesn’t seem to have fully let that idea go.
Taehyung still spends a lot of time with Jungkook, so much so that Jimin is starting to wonder if they're secretly attached at the hip.
Yoongi has managed to weasel his way into the group, but he and Jimin haven't spent much one-on-one time together, not that Jimin's really looking for that.
Hoseok, as drunk as he clearly is, announces a downright terrible idea to the group. "We should play fuckin' spin the bottle!"
Jimin, Seokjin, and Yoongi let out a chorus of "boo"'s, and Jungkook flushes so red that Jimin feels the need to avert his eyes out of pure respect.
"What are you, twelve?" Namjoon says, taking a swig of beer.
Hoseok giggles, falling backward into the chair behind him.
"None of you fuckers are putting your lips on my boy." Seokjin says, wrapping his arms protectively around Namjoon. "We can play if Joonah and I get to kiss, that's it."
“That is so gross.” Jungkook mumbles, still red in the face.
Hoseok is still laughing. "It'll be funny!"
Jimin voices his concern, "What if one of us has to kiss you? That would be a nightmare."
Hoseok laughs harder at this, throwing a crumpled napkin in Jimin's direction.
He produces an empty soju bottle from somewhere under the table. "Any objections, now is the time! Otherwise this is becoming a big gay drunk kiss-fest." He drops the bottle on the table, grinning.
"I'm seriously not in unless it's me and Joonah." Seokjin announces, and Jimin laughs.
"I'll go first!" Hoseok decides, reaching over to twist the bottle.
It spins around a few times and Jimin prays to whoever is listening that it's not him. It lands on an embarrassed looking Yoongi.
The room erupts into laughter and shouts of Yoongi's name, and Yoongi rolls his eyes.
"C'mere," Hoseok grins. "What a way to make friends."
Yoongi sits up on his knees and Jimin watches, amused, as Hoseok leans forward and reaches for Yoongi's face, pulling him into a disgustingly wet kiss.
Everybody giggles and Yoongi pulls away, making a face.
"Try not to fall in love with me." Yoongi says, and Jimin watches Hoseok's face flush.
Yoongi sits back down in his spot and spins the bottle himself, and Jimin watches as it spins, his head spinning a little as well. It lands on Taehyung.
Taehyung smirks and Seokjin calls, "The young lovers reunited! How romantic!"
Taehyung raises a hand to flip him off as he leans over Jungkook to meet Yoongi's lips in the middle.
Jungkook leans backward as the two of them meet over him, his eyes blown wide.
They share a long moment where they dance around the touch of lips, sharing a breath before Yoongi closes the distance and slots their lips together. Jimin swallows down the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach, and he glances at the rest of the group.
Jungkook is like, eight different shades of red, and Hoseok has a permanent grin etched into his features.
It's just Namjoon that isn't smiling, watching Jimin from across the table. Jimin meets his eyes, and he knows Namjoon's trying to ask him a question. Are you okay? He’s too observant for his own good. It’s like everyone but Jimin knows what Jimin feels. Jimin shoots him a small smile and turns back to the two boys resuming their seats, looking mildly embarrassed.
Taehyung spins and lands on Namjoon, which causes Seokjin to put up a solid fight, but they end up leaning over the table to share a chaste kiss while Seokjin groans from behind Namjoon.
Namjoon’s spin lands on Jungkook, who visibly flushes from beside Taehyung, and Namjoon leans over the table, placing both of his hands on Jungkook's cheeks, planting a soft kiss to his lips, like he's fragile.
Jungkook, to his obvious dismay, lands on Taehyung. He looks visibly distressed when the bottle stops spinning.
Taehyung looks thrilled, ecstatic even, and Jungkook shys in on himself, worrying his bottom lip between his big bunny teeth.
"You okay?" Taehyung asks quietly, and Jungkook nods. "You tell me if you want me to stop, okay?" Jungkook nods a second time.
Taehyung sits up on his knees, turning and settling in front of Jungkook. He sits so that his right knee is beside Jungkook's, his left in between Jungkook's legs.
Taehyung places his hands on Jungkook's hips and pulls him forward. Hoseok says "Ooooh."
Taehyung briefly meets Jimin's eyes from over Jungkook's shoulder, and Jimin bites down on the inside of his cheek, looking down at his own hands.
Taehyung is the one to lean in, pressing his and Jungkook's lips together. Jungkook sighs.
It's more intimate than Jimin had been expecting, and he finds himself shifting awkwardly when Taehyung deepens the kiss.
The tension in the room stretches, and ten seconds morph into a million.
Jimin notices Hoseok pulling his eyes away, and Jimin, unfortunately, doesn't miss the slip of Taehyung's tongue and the whine from the back of Jungkook's throat.
Everyone holds their breath for a moment, until Seokjin leans forward and claps his hands together, breaking the tension.
"Okay!” He calls. “Get a room you fucking weirdos!”
Taehyung pulls away from Jungkook and grins at the dazed look on Jungkook's face, he sits himself back to Jungkook's left and spins the bottle. It lands on Jimin.
Jimin sputters for a moment and he imagines he looks even more embarrassed than Jungkook. He swallows down a feeling not unlike fear, praying to god that his heart beating in his chest isn’t magically heard by the rest of the room.
Taehyung shuffles between Jungkook, Yoongi, and the coffee table, and plants himself in front of Jimin, shooting him a crooked smile.
Jimin chuckles half heartedly and allows his chin to be taken in Taehyung's hand, tilting his face upward.
Jimin meets his eyes, searching them for any indication of what he's feeling, but Jimin can't see past the smug exterior. He wonders if somewhere inside Taehyung feels as nervous as Jimin does.
He's not drunk enough for this, he thinks to himself. The buzz of alcohol doesn't drown out the blood rushing in his ears.
"Hi," Taehyung breathes, voice low and warm, like honey.
"Hi." Jimin croaks, and the room falls silent, anticipating.
Jimin, being the fool he is, shuts his eyes, and Taehyung meets him in the middle.
And it's weird. It's weird that Jimin has spent every day for the past three years with Taehyung, and not once has he given himself the opportunity, sober or drunk, to taste him like this.
He's thought about it, more than he'd care to admit to himself, but it's different.
Taehyung tastes faintly like cherry lip balm and beer, and Jimin wonders if that's the lingering taste of Jungkook, or if this is the taste he'd been curious about for so long.
Taehyung slides their lips together, not invasive, just enough to make Jimin sigh into the kiss, and then he's pulling away. No swift movements, no slip of tongue, nothing like the show he'd just put on with Jungkook.
The loss of contact makes Jimin's stomach twist, and he leans back, opening his eyes. He's met with five pairs of curious eyes and Jimin feels his cheeks flush.
He sits quietly for a moment too long, and Hoseok says "Jiminie, it's still your turn."
Jimin startles and reaches for the bottle, pushing it halfheartedly. He's dizzy.
It spins around twice, landing just to Jimin's left, and he realizes it's Yoongi who's looking at him curiously.
Jimin sucks in a deep breath, and plasters a smile on his face.
He still hasn't given himself the chance to get to know Yoongi, really.
He knows Yoongi deserves better. He's funny and he fits in well with their group. He makes Taehyung and Jungkook laugh a lot, and he's pretty. He's really fucking pretty. Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, but the faint smirk on his lips makes Jimin’s breath hitch.
Yoongi shoots Jimin a gummy smile and Jimin wonders why he hasn't given the guy a chance. He should be less of an asshole.
Yoongi looks like he doesn't know what to do with his hands, so Jimin sandwiches Yoongi's cheeks between his palms, holding his face still.
Yoongi's cheeks are tinged with pink, and Jimin feels his hands land on Jimin's waist.
This is ridiculous, so totally fucking ridiculous.
Yoongi closes his eyes and Jimin connects their lips in the middle, applying just enough pressure that Yoongi seems to melt into his hands.
Yoongi kisses back, almost immediately, a little harsher than Jimin had expected, like he'd been anticipating this on his own. Jimin's hands slide into Yoongi's hair, resting there.
Jimin slides their mouths together, tilting his head just a little, and Yoongi parts his lips for Jimin's tongue, allowing him access to his mouth.
Jimin chases the taste of smoke on Yoongi's tongue, it's so different from Taehyung. So much more raw and wanting. Yoongi hums and Jimin hears a low whine come from his own throat. He doesn't do it consciously, and he knows he's giving the rest of the room a show, even more so than Taehyung and Jungkook. It fills Jimin with a weird satisfaction and he pulls away, catching his breath.
Yoongi looks at him with half-lidded eyes, his chest heaving, lips slicked with spit and red. Someone whistles and Jimin turns back in his seat like nothing happened.
Something warm and uncomfortable spreads through Jimin's limbs, and he meets Taehyung's surprised gaze.
Jimin shrugs, nonchalant.
He's put up a challenge, Taehyung knows this.
Jimin's always been the type to lean into the dramatics.
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