Chapter Text
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Jungkook is the most normal guy he knows.
He was a straight A student, took classes in business and finance because that’s what his parents expected, had sex with a girl for the first time in high school, had sex for the first time with a guy in college, and decided he liked cock better than pussy by the age of twenty-one.
His sexuality is the only thing outside the realm of ‘normal’ but even then it’s all a matter of perspective. Most of his friends are queer, so he’s never felt like he didn’t fit in.
And then there’s the matter of money. His family’s rich, but his dad made him live a humble life. Their apartment was small compared to the other kids at his school, and even though he never had to worry about buying his own car or his own place after graduation, he still worked during his free time.
So he’s down to earth, easy to get along with, relatively smart, sometimes on the quiet side, and most people know him as a put together, stand up kind of guy—the kind every mother would want her daughter to date, and who every father would want to grab a drink with.
When his father dies is the first time he doesn’t feel normal.
Because it means an end to tri-weekly visits to the hospital and an end to proud smiles and an end to Dad saying “you did well”. Because it means inheriting the riches his dad left behind without having to lift a finger. Because it means relief.
See, Jungkook’s dreams span for miles. He tried not to think about the fact he could finally leave his desk job, and finally buy that piece of property, and finally start a bar with daddy’s money.
He tried not to think about it like that because it seemed disrespectful to his father who built himself from the ground up, only to have a son wish to exploit him for the very things he struggled for.
So Jungkook never said it out loud, but after his father died and satisfaction rolled through him, he felt very not normal for feeling so good.
-
The money rolls into Jungkook’s bank account and the first thing he does is look for property he can buy. He checks out all the hotspots—Itaewon, Hongdae—and finds a nice space tucked at the end of the latter’s club street.
It’s morning when he visits it, expensive new shoes clipping along the sidewalk. Music plays from various different bars on the street, already going even though it’s barely 8 o’clock in the morning. He adjusts the sleeves of his Armani suit, running a hand through his hair just before stepping through the open door of what will soon become his very own bar.
Dark floors, high ceilings, a second floor that overlooks the first. And above that, an apartment he can use for storage. He can already imagine the fluorescent lights and loud music and hot bodies that will fill the place.
He’ll have a long bar stretch from wall to wall, serve signature cocktails, look out amongst the patrons and know he’s the reason they’re smiling.
“Jeon Jungkook-ssi?”
The real estate agent is a woman named Kim Hyejin. She takes him on a tour, more a formality than anything, and then they sit at the bottom of the stairs where Jungkook has a check ready to pay.
Though he’d never classify himself as privileged, he’s always gotten everything he ever wanted.
Which is why he’s surprised when Hyejin says, “Before you make the purchase, I do have some bad news.” That’s also why his chest flares in anger when she adds, “We have another contender for the place. He sent in an offer just before you got here.”
His eyebrows pull together tightly. He didn’t come here to fight someone else for the place; it was supposed to be a done deal. “I made an offer. We had an agreement,” Jungkook says.
“These things happen.”
“How much is he offering?”
Jungkook doesn’t miss the way Hyejin’s eyes sparkle at the question, like this is what she was hoping for. People will do anything for money, won’t they?
“He’s offering double,” Hyejin says.
For a second, Jungkook is stunned. They’re already asking for too much—who in their right minds would double an offer like that? He must be an idiot, or stupidly rich. Jungkook has half a mind to abandon this place in lieu of someplace else, but in the few weeks he’s been searching, this is the only one that has everything he wants.
Jungkook wants to blow a gasket. He’s usually a calm, level-headed guy but this isn’t fair. He offered and she agreed. She just wants to make more money. This is some kind of scam to get him to pay more; he’s not going to fall for it.
Before he can say a single word, a playful, singsong-y voice says from the entrance, “Knock, knock.”
Jungkook’s head snaps to the doorway, only to find the silhouette of a man he can’t quite make out.
Hyejin’s automatically on her feet. She gives Jungkook a mischievous smirk, explaining, “Your competition.”
She shimmies to the stranger as she says, “I was so happy to see your message this morning.” She laughs when the man murmurs something in return.
Traitor, Jungkook thinks.
“Would you like a tour of the place?”
Money-hungry bitch.
“I would absolutely love that,” the stranger responds.
As if Jungkook isn’t still here. As if he hasn’t got dibs on this place. As if he wasn’t here first. As if—
The stranger turns around—
Jungkook’s nails are leaving indents in his palm and—
Their eyes meet.
Oh.
That’s not a stranger. That’s the face of Jungkook’s dreams—no, his nightmares. That’s the face he would have been happy to never see again. The face of someone who tried time and time again to tear his family apart.
“What the fuck.”
Park Jimin pauses when he sees him, feet coming to a standstill. He wears a perpetual pout, plump lips doing this thing that makes him look helpless, innocent, weak. It’s a look Jungkook is very familiar with.
The last time he saw him, Jungkook was in college. They hadn’t seen each other since Jungkook was fifteen, so it was a surprise to run into him at a convenience store, even more of a surprise when Jimin smiled at him as if they actually had an existing brotherly bond.
It’s been three years since that run in. Jimin must be twenty-five, at least.
He’s blond now. His hair is a little long and he wears flip flops with ripped jeans. His t-shirt has at least three paint stains that Jungkook can see and he’s got tacky rings on almost all his fingers.
When Jimin smiles, cheeks puffing up, Jungkook has half a mind to knock it off his face. When he speaks, Jungkook’s insides curdle.
“Jungkook! I feel like I’m seeing a ghost.”
Hyejin intercepts before Jungkook can speak. “You two know each other?”
Jimin laughs, and the sound grates on Jungkook’s ears. “Of course we do. We’re brothers.”
“Half,” Jungkook corrects. He hates that, hates that they share any blood at all.
If there was one other thing that ever tried to pull Jungkook off his normal track, it was Park Jimin.
“Oh.” Hyejin’s eyes have lit up as if this is the most exciting thing that has happened to her all week. “I take it you both didn’t know the other was going to be here today, huh.”
“Not at all,” Jimin says easily. He steps forward towards Jungkook, holding his arms open, an unwelcome invitation. “Hug? For old times’ sake?”
Old times? Jungkook’s probably only had a dozen meetings with the guy, and even then they hardly ever spoke. Jimin was always too busy vying for their shared father’s attention—and then he had the gall to not even show up at the funeral.
Now this.
Jimin’s arms drop after a few seconds of awkward silence. “Or not.”
He doesn’t sound disappointed though, just amused. It makes Jungkook’s blood boil, and he chews his lower lip so hard that he thinks he can taste blood.
“So how does this work, Hyejin-ssi?” Jimin asks. “You said I made the highest offer.”
Jungkook’s mouth drops open. This cannot be happening.
“You did,” Hyejin says.
The carpet is being ripped out from under Jungkook and he’s going to end up with no legs to stand on. He feels like he did the very first time he remembers Jimin coming over, his mother dropping him off and telling him to “play nice”.
Jungkook remembers being told who that was, that Jimin was his brother, that he had an actual older brother, and his eyes had lit up and his lips had curled into a smile and he could hardly believe it.
Only for Jimin to stamp on every dream a young Jungkook had conjured, taking one look before scoffing and running to their dad for hugs and cuddles. And Dad, who rarely ever showed physical affection, scooped him right up, called him Jiminie and planted kisses all over his cheeks.
“Look, I don’t even need a tour,” Jimin says now. “I’m ready to pay.”
He doesn’t glance at Jungkook when he says it. Jungkook’s excitement for this place is being ripped away and he’s helpless to it. It just had to be him, waltzing in here in his tattered clothes as if he already owns the place.
Jungkook refuses to give him anything.
“I’ll match his price,” Jungkook says. It’s stupid that the only person who will benefit from this entire thing is Kim Hyejin, but Jungkook is not about to lose
Hyejin looks delighted, and for a second, Jungkook wonders if this was her plan all along, to strong arm him into making a better offer. If Jimin hadn’t come in here and doubled it, if he had thought for a second before promising to pay such an exorbitant amount, if he just had some business sense—
“If that means he outbids me, then I’ll just triple—”
“Jimin.”
Jungkook cuts him off with a warning stare. He can’t believe what Jimin was about to say. He can’t believe they share the same father. Dad would be heartbroken to learn how Jimin intends to spend his money.
Speaking of money, Jimin’s never had much as far as Jungkook knows. Which can only mean that Dad…
A fresh spark of fury has Jungkook grabbing Jimin by the wrist and dragging him outside. “I need to speak with you.”
Jimin’s laughter bubbles in his ears. “J- Jungkook!”
The bright sunlight outside is harsh on Jungkook’s eyes, but he’s scowling for an entirely different reason. As soon as they’re out of earshot of the real estate agent, Jungkook lets Jimin go and says, “What do you think you’re doing?”
Jimin still wears a stupid smile. “What do you mean?”
“You were about to raise the price again.”
“Okay?”
“Okay?!” Jungkook repeats. “You’re spending Dad’s money, aren’t you?”
There’s a short moment of silence where Jimin’s smile drops, replaced by the smallest of frowns. He’s doing it again, that pitiful face of innocence that only serves to make the other party feel guilty.
“S- So?” Jimin asks, arms folding demurely across his chest. “It’s my money now. I can do what I want with it.”
Jungkook will process the confirmation that Dad left something for the son he abandoned later on. He’ll process later on that he must have left a large sum if Jimin can afford a place like this.
Right now, he has bigger things to worry about.
“Have you ever met a woman like Kim Hyejin? She might seem nice but she’s a shark, Jimin. And she wants to take you for all that you’re worth.”
Jimin bites his lower lip, eyes cast downwards. “She told me it was underpriced to begin with. She said it was a steal even doubled.”
“Did you do any research before contacting her?”
Jimin doesn’t answer. Jungkook can’t help but sigh, the first wave of sympathy trickling in. He’s not too sure about Jimin’s educational background, but he did hear Mom once say he dropped out of high school. That would explain a lot.
“You know, you’ve just made my life a hell of a lot harder. I had this place in the bag.”
“I’m not going to apologize.”
“I don’t care if you apologize as long as you walk away.”
Jimin’s jaw sets stubbornly. “I’m not going to do that either.”
Jungkook groans. “You can’t be serious.”
“Hey!” Jimin steps up to Jungkook. He’s older but he’s shorter—must be his mom’s genes. Right now, Jungkook notices just how much smaller he is, from his height to his face to his hands, everything tiny, tiny . “I want this place just as badly as you do.”
“Not possible,” Jungkook says. “Buying this place is my dream.”
“It’s mine too!”
“What are you even going to do with it?”
“I’m going to live here,” Jimin says, raising his chin.
Jungkook lets out a breath of disbelief, unsure if he wants to laugh or cry. “This place is prime real estate for a bar or a restaurant! If you want a home, there are plenty of apartments available! I know because I did my research.”
“I was going to live in the apartment above it, dumbass,” Jimin snaps, looking affronted.
“And just, what, use the rest of the space for storage?”
“I… I would have figured something out.”
He can usually keep his cool. Even when facing impossible challenges, Jungkook can usually take a step back and try to look at it from different angles. But this? This? Maybe if it had been anyone else, anyone who wasn’t Jimin, he might have tried giving them the benefit of the doubt.
But as it is, he can’t believe what he’s hearing out of his own half brother’s mouth.
“So you come here, ready to spend half your inheritance, without a plan? Not even an idea?!”
Jungkook doesn’t mean to raise his voice. He remembers when Mom used to raise her voice at Jimin, it would make the older boy tremble. But then again, he was always sure the wide, wet eyes and the pout were an act.
Jimin puts it on now, messy hair nearly in his eyes as he looks anywhere but Jungkook’s face. “I didn’t know you wanted it too. I just saw it and liked it and I can afford it now, so I figured why not?”
He seems like such a child when he speaks, so much so that Jungkook can already feel himself crumbling. He lets a sigh drift out his nose, thinking he’s going to regret this later. “Look… I can help you find another place that’s better suited to what you need.”
Jimin raises his eyes, and Jungkook thinks gleefully that this is it. He’s going to give up. He’s going to— “But I like this place.”
“Jimin—”
“Are you willing to go triple the original price?”
Jungkook hates the challenge in Jimin’s eyes. He knows he’s beat on that front, but that doesn’t stop him from trying to reason with him. “It’s not about that. You shouldn’t be spending all your money at once. I don’t want to see you go broke.”
Jimin scoffs. “As if you actually care.”
“Of course I care, hyung.” He doesn’t. He’s thinking how Jimin is about to ruin all of his plans, and he needs to do everything in his power to get him to change his mind and walk away.
“Then prove it.”
“Okay.” God, Jungkook hates this. He wishes he could douse that defiant look in Jimin’s eyes; it’s not a good look on him. “How?”
“When’s my birthday?”
He knows this one. Of course he knows this one, because every year on Jimin’s birthday, Dad would take Jungkook out and ask his advice on what to get him. So he says easily, “October 13th.”
Jimin looks a little surprised when Jungkook gets it right. “What’s my favorite kind of ice cream?”
Jungkook doesn’t know this one, so he takes a wild guess. “Vanilla.”
Again, surprise flutters across Jimin’s face. “Name three of my hobbies.”
“Painting.” That one’s easy, if Jimin’s paint-stained clothes are anything to go by. “Dancing.” Another easy one, because Jimin used to love it when Dad picked him up to dance. And… “Clubbing.”
It’s an inferred guess. Why else would Jimin want to live on Hongdae’s club street otherwise?
Jimin clears his throat. “Last one. Why didn’t you invite me to Dad’s funeral?”
Jungkook blinks. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“Jimin… You were. Mom sent you the time and location. You just never showed up and…”
Oh.
Oh because it’s no secret that Mom always hated Jimin, and maybe that hatred had turned into something ugly, ugly enough to deprive a son of attending his father’s own funeral. Suddenly all of this seems dumb.
Jungkook might not like Jimin much but he would never have tried to stop Jimin from coming. He had been angry, he remembers now, when he realized Jimin wasn’t there; he had thought Jimin never cared to begin with.
Jimin looks struck, fingers pressing into his upper arms hard enough to leave a mark.
“I’m sorry,” Jungkook says, meaning it. “If I’d known, I would have told you. You know that. I know how much you loved him even if—”
He stops himself from saying something he’ll regret. They can both hear the whisper of those unspoken words hanging in the air though.
Even if you never loved me.
Jungkook got over it a long time ago. Jimin was just another person his father knew, not his brother. Jimin wanted nothing to do with him. That was fine. He could handle that. It might have taken a while to come to terms with, but he doesn’t need him anymore.
“Are you okay?” Jungkook asks, studying Jimin’s face carefully.
“Um…” Jimin wipes his cheek angrily. “Yeah. Yes, I’m fine.”
Saying sorry again doesn’t feel like it would be enough, so Jungkook strides forward and wraps his arms around Jimin, pulling him close.
They’ve hugged once. Jimin was eleven, Jungkook was nine, and Jimin wasn’t supposed to stay the night. But his mom ended up needing to work an emergency shift at her job and asked whether Jimin could spend the night.
Dad had already turned in. It was just Jungkook and Mom and Jimin, watching a movie together. Jungkook doesn’t even remember what the movie was; all he remembers is Jimin spilled grape juice on the couch and Mom threw a fit.
After making him clean it, she stormed off to bed. Jungkook was about to leave too. He would have if he hadn’t heard a sniffle that quickly turned into a sob. Jimin looked much like he does now, desperately trying to hold it in but woefully unable to.
Jungkook couldn’t help himself back then, and he can’t help himself now.
“It’ll be okay,” Jungkook says.
“I w- wanted to s- say goodbye,” Jimin cries.
“I should’ve texted.”
Jimin buries his face in Jungkook’s chest, small hiccuping sobs the only sounds coming from him. Jungkook’s not sure how long they stand like this on the sidewalk, but eventually Jimin lets him go, stepping back to resume his earlier position, arms pulled in, body closed off.
“Um…” Jimin pulls his lips into his mouth, then lets them pop back out. “I’m sorry for getting in the way.”
Jungkook shakes his head. “It’s okay.”
“Do you think she’ll go back to the original price for you?” Jimin asks quietly.
He’s giving up? Just like that? Jungkook feels a surge of pride that’s uncalled for. He tries to squash it down as it occurs to him that: “No, I don’t think she will. She’s out for our money now.”
“Oh.” Jimin knocks the tip of his toe against the ground. “Sorry.”
In a flash of inspiration, Jungkook thinks up the perfect solution. It might be a long shot, because Jimin never wanted very much to do with him—and vice versa—but they’ve both just gone through something monumental: lost their father.
They could use each other’s company. In the meantime, Jungkook can strike a deal.
“Hyung,” he says, and it brings a blush to Jimin’s cheeks, like he didn’t expect that. “How about we buy the place together?”
“... Together?”
“I didn’t have any plans for the upstairs apartment. If we split the cost, I’ll let you live there.”
Jimin frowns. “Where are you gonna live?”
“I already have an apartment. I was going to turn this place into a bar.”
“Oh.”
“It works out perfectly. You get your own place, and I get my bar. And you make up for doubling the price on me.”
Jimin plays with his lower lip, and Jungkook worries he may turn down the deal. But then he says, “That means Kim Hyejin ends up the biggest winner.”
Jungkook didn’t expect that. It brings a smile to his face, the concern in Jimin’s voice. “Yeah, you’re right, but that’s your own fault. Now we have to pay the consequences, but at least we’ll do it together. So? Hyung?”
He might be playing too hard into the hyung thing. Jimin might just see right through his intentions. Not that he doesn’t want to help Jimin at the same time; it’s just that, if he can help himself, he may as well.
Jimin suddenly smiles, all traces of his tears gone. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yes. Yeah, okay. Let’s do it.”
Jimin holds out his hand, his eyes much brighter, his stance no longer so closed off. Jungkook finds him sort of… endearing. And suddenly he’s not regretting the offer; suddenly he’s excited about it.
This could be the start of something good.
-
It’s not the start of something good—Jungkook should have remembered Jimin’s bad habits.
When Jimin was a teenager, he would cause all sorts of trouble every time he came over. Jungkook never knew why Dad put up with him. Whether he was stealing sips of alcohol or springing surprise hugs on him when he was in the middle of serious conversations, Dad forgave them all.
Now Jungkook considers himself a forgiving person, but Jimin’s really starting to get on his nerves.
It starts after Jimin has moved all his stuff to the new apartment. Jungkook’s been spending a lot of time at the bar, working on the interior design, buying furniture, working on his business plan.
It’s all going well until Jimin comes down one day, steals soju from the fridge, and asks Jungkook, “So, how much percentage do I get?”
Jungkook glances up from his laptop. He’s been trying to get the theme of the place right, racking his brain over the right color scheme and the right art. What Jimin just said has thrown all his ideas out the window.
“What?” he asks, dumbfounded and not sure he heard right.
“When you start to turn a profit? How much are you gonna give me?”
Nothing. The word is frozen on Jungkook’s tongue. He had thought the Jimin problem was dealt with. He hadn’t expected Jimin to want a cut, not when Jungkook was the one doing him a favor.
So he chuckles, turns back to his laptop.
“I’m serious.” Jimin strides forward and shuts Jungkook’s laptop in one smooth motion, forcing Jungkook to look up again. “We’re co-owners of this place. I should get half of what you make.”
Jungkook’s jaw drops. “Half? Are you fucking kidding me?”
Jimin clenches his jaw. “No. It’s not a joke.”
No it seems like, to Jimin, it’s not. Jungkook barely conceals a sharp breath of disbelief. “You’re not getting a single dime. This is my project. I’m paying to build it up out of my own pocket.”
“And I’m letting you use the space. It’s unfair if I get nothing, Jungkook.”
“What’s unfair is if you profit off all of my hard work. I’m already letting you stay here.”
“Letting me. I paid for that space on my own.”
Jungkook sighs, his energy drained. He opens his laptop again, wanting to finish making some decisions before the day is over. “Let’s talk about this later. I’ll crunch some numbers, okay? Just… let me finish this.”
Jimin sits across from him, sipping his soju until it’s done. Jungkook pays him no mind when he stands up to grab another, doesn’t even say anything about how technically Jungkook paid for that too. If he does, he knows it’ll just start another argument.
Halfway through the second bottle, Jimin stands and drags his chair so he’s next to Jungkook. When that’s not close enough, he scooches a little, one inch, then another.
Jungkook tries to pretend he’s not there.
“What are you doing?” Jimin asks.
Dragging his finger along the trackpad, he opens another webpage he has up, then pulls up an excel where he’s keeping track of all his potential expenses.
“That’s a lot of money,” Jimin says, face lit up by the light of the laptop.
Jungkook only hums, then goes to look at a painting his friend Namjoon just sent him a link of, saying he thinks it might go well with the dark blue-gray theme he’s trying to go for.
“That would look really nice on the far wall,” Jimin says, pointing at a space on the other side of the room.
“Not now, Jimin.”
“You’re trying to decorate the place.”
“Yes, and I need to concentrate. So if you could just—”
“I like decorating,” Jimin says. When Jungkook looks at him to give him an annoyed glare, he takes that as a sign to keep going. “I used to do my house all the time whenever we had to move. We didn’t have a lot of stuff, but I was always good at pulling things together. I’d go to these thrift stores? There’s this one I really like not far from here.”
Jungkook’s glare is now a frown. “Thrift stores?”
“There’s a lot of cool stuff in them. Not just clothes but, like, broken chandeliers and fancy wall pieces and artworks you can’t find anywhere else. And the best part is it’s cheap.” Jimin lets out a laugh, then nods at the laptop. “If you’re trying to save, it might be worth a shot. Just saying.”
Jimin stands then, stumbling over as he tries to find his footing. Jungkook gets to his feet on instinct, grabbing him by the shoulders and steadying him.
“Sorry,” Jimin says, swaying a bit as he turns his head. “I’m a bit of a lightweight.”
“No shit.”
Jungkook lets go when he’s sure Jimin has his bearings, about to turn back to his laptop when Jimin trips over the leg of his chair and sprawls on the ground on his hands and knees.
“Jimin!” Jungkook is by his side immediately, concerned, but Jimin just turns over onto his back, giggling into his elbow.
“Didn’t mean to do that,” he says, hair a little overgrown and fanned out beneath him, his dark roots showing. He meets Jungkook’s eyes. “Well? Are you going to help your big brother up?”
Jungkook helps him. He helps him up the main staircase, then to a smaller staircase in the back that leads to Jimin’s apartment. He doesn’t let go until they reach the door, at which point Jimin is well and truly leaning on him.
“Hm. Think you’ll need to open that for me, Jungkookie.”
“Where’s your key?”
“M’pocket.”
Jungkook reaches for his pocket just as Jimin turns towards him, and maybe the universe hates him, or maybe Jungkook’s a bit of a clutz too, because he finds himself brushing Jimin’s clothed crotch area before he can pull away.
And then Jimin’s staring at him. He’s got this look in his eyes and he’s staring and Jungkook’s turning beet red.
“I didn’t mean to—”
“Jungkookie… what’re you doing?” Jimin asks, poking Jungkook in the chest with a finger.
“Nothing. It was an accident.” His words trip over themselves. Jimin looks like he doesn’t believe him. “I- I should go.”
“You tried to touch me.”
“I did not.”
“Hyung knows what you did. Did Jungkookie grow into a bit of a pervert? Hm?”
A brief flash of anger has Jungkook shoving Jimin in the chest. “Shut the fuck up. I didn’t fucking try to touch you. You’re the pervert.”
He leaves Jimin there with his mouth agape and his back against the wall, looking shocked and maybe even a little hurt. Jungkook doesn’t care. He’s embarrassed and annoyed and wishing he never agreed to let Jimin stay here.
Now he’s stuck with a demon.
-
With Jimin’s help, the bar starts to come together. Despite their lingering issues, Jungkook has to admit (reluctantly) that his half brother has a good eye for interior design. By going cheap on the artwork, Jungkook can splurge on these fancy booths to fill the floor.
Jimin had the idea to hang these dim lights from the ceiling, making the newly varnished wood walls shine when they’re lit. Floor to ceiling shelves decorated with liquor from all over the world line the wall, each one carefully picked by Jungkook.
When they’re not at odds with each other, they make a good team. Jimin points this out once.
“We make a good team.”
Jungkook merely shrugs. “Okay.”
“Say it,” Jimin says, nudging his shoulder. They’re by the bar finalizing the drinks menu which is why it annoys Jungkook that Jimin wants to talk about useless things.
“Let’s just finish this and go home.”
“It’s not a difficult ask, Jungkook.”
Jungkook is about ready to rip the menu to shreds. His half brother is beyond infuriating; he doesn’t know how he’s going to continue doing this. He needs to concoct some plan to get rid of him, maybe buy him a one-way ticket to a country on the other side of the planet.
“Jungkookie…” Jimin touches Jungkook’s arm, those fingers so soft and gentle. “Why won’t you say it? Do you not agree?”
Jungkook shivers. He can practically hear his own heartbeat. “Stop that,” he says, shaking Jimin off of him. “You’re like a fucking pest I can’t get rid of.”
Jimin pouts, corners of his lips turned down. It’s that look Jungkook hates with everything he has. “You’re really mean, you know that?”
“Whatever.” Jungkook drags the menu in front of him so Jimin can’t see it. It’s petty but he’s feeling petty so whatever. He’s tired of these squabbles. Jimin gets under his skin so easily and he can feel a fight coming on. He just wants to be done with this day so he can sleep.
“I can’t see,” Jimin says from beside him, a hand reaching out for the menu.
Swiftly, Jungkook slides the menu down the bar, moving it out of reach. He steps closer to it, hearing Jimin huff. He doesn’t complain though, just goes to grab it again only for Jungkook to do the same thing, dragging it further down the bar once more.
“Jungkook.”
Jungkook feels the corner of his lip pull upwards. Feigning nonchalance, he says, “What?”
He keeps his eyes on the menu. Jimin has gone completely silent. A few seconds pass where the air seems to freeze, and then— Jimin goes for the menu again, hastily trying to flatten his palm on it only to miss yet again. Jungkook’s full on laughing by then.
“Jungkook!” Jimin’s red in the face, but he doesn’t look or sound particularly mad. “You’re such a child.”
“Says the child.”
“Let me see the menu.”
Jungkook holds it up in his hand. “This menu?”
Jimin glances at it for a second, eyes narrowed. “Yes. That one. Give it here.”
“Come and get it.”
Jimin tries. Oh, he really tries. But Jungkook’s half a head taller and has a longer reach, resulting in Jimin jumping like a maniac, fingers stretching out to no avail. Jungkook laughs as he watches his older brother flail about, grabbing his arm, attempting to climb on a stool only for Jungkook to sidestep away.
And then Jungkook’s back hits the bar, Jimin makes a final grab for his wrist, and they end up chest to chest. For a second, neither of them do a thing. Jimin’s eyes drop to look at him and Jungkook freezes, his heart doing something weird, the close proximity like a drug.
Jimin licks his lips. Maybe it’s just dry in here, maybe that’s why he does it, but there’s no excuse for Jungkook’s eyes straying downwards to watch him do it. There’s no excuse for staring at the way his brother’s lips glisten with saliva, so plump and pretty.
“What?” Jimin asks.
Jungkook’s eyes snap up, but his voice isn’t working.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
He needs to offer some kind of explanation, but staring at his brother’s lips doesn’t have one. What is he supposed to say? They just look so pretty, I had to. You don’t know what you do to me.
Blinking in alarm, Jungkook shoves Jimin off of him, heart hammering. He’s confused. He’s been so busy that he hasn’t had time to date or fuck anyone so he’s just confused. That’s all this is. It doesn’t help that Jimin is so touchy, that he’s so affectionate and pretty. No, it doesn’t help that he’s pretty.
“You keep pushing me away,” Jimin says, eyes wide and hurt. “Do you hate me or something?”
“No,” Jungkook manages to say.
“Then why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well it hurts when you do. I’ve spent enough of my life without a family, and the only one who’ll even look at me acts like I repulse him or something.”
Repulse him? It’s so far from repulsion that Jungkook can’t stop himself from saying, “No, Jimin, it’s not that.” The hand holding the menu drops to his side, the other reaching out to Jimin’s arm to draw him close. “I’m not repulsed by you.”
They’re not chest to chest like before but only inches separate their lips from one another. Somehow Jungkook’s thinking about those lips again, wondering what it would be like. If life had no consequences, if they weren’t brothers, if they met as strangers in a bar… what would it be like to kiss him?
“You’re looking at me like that again,” Jimin murmurs.
“Looking at you like what?”
“Like you want to kiss me.”
Jungkook steps back instantly, hand dropping only for Jimin to mimic the position. Now he’s the one holding Jungkook in place. He even dares to take a step closer. If either of them move, their dicks will touch, and Jungkook doesn’t know what he’d do then.
“It’s okay, you know,” Jimin says. Jungkook thinks he may be in shock. He may not even be awake; this must be a dream. “Lots of people want to kiss me.”
Lots? How many? How many people have kissed those lips? “Do you let them?” Jungkook asks.
Jimin smiles slyly. “Only the special ones.”
Jungkook thinks, Am I special?
But he barely has a chance to finish that thought when a stray hand snatches the menu from him. Jimin giggles, dancing away with glee. He turns to Jungkook as if expecting him to follow, but Jungkook can’t put on an act right now, he’s too stunned.
“Got’cha! You silly fool. You let me distract you,” Jimin says. “Are you giving up? Did I shock you to silence?”
Jungkook tries to laugh it off, tries to say something witty but it comes out more awkward than not. In the end, they decide they like this version of the menu. Tomorrow, they’ll have the copies printed, and then they can prepare for opening night.
But Jungkook’s mind won’t stop buzzing even after Jimin leaves him to go to bed. Because all he can think about is Jimin’s words and the husky voice that spoke them, all he can see are pretty plump lips that glisten.
Lips that Jungkook so very badly wants to kiss.