Chapter Text
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They’re calling him V. The new superhero. He flies and bends light and is a symbol of hope for the people. He debuts on TV like some kind of hot shot idol, wearing a tacky gold costume with a cape that flutters in the wind as he smiles for the cameras. When he introduces himself, his deep voice reverberates through the speakers.
He has a nice voice.
Jimin immediately hates him.
But then, he hates all heroes, with their self righteous senses of justice and optimistic attitudes. He wouldn’t spend time getting to know each and every one of them if he didn’t have to in order to survive in this god forsaken world.
“I am prepared to keep this city safe for all you folk. Thank you for trusting me,” V finishes up, and the reporters in the room he’s in burst into applause. Jimin grits his teeth, something ugly churning in his belly.
The way ordinary people put so much faith in the Supers pumped out by their corrupt government makes him sick. He will never respect them, no matter their promises to save lives. If they really wanted to save lives, they would climb off their pedestals and take a look at the world around them.
Instead they live like kings in the hills around the city, looking down their noses at the lesser folk below them.
Jimin wishes they all would burn.
With an angry huff, he grabs the remote and hits the OFF button. V. He’ll learn more about him later. Right now, he has bigger fish to fry, like one Stealo, who he found when sniffing around the city’s black market for high-grade fire-proof equipment. Apparently, Stealo is Luna’s right-hand man. Luna runs this city’s underground, so Jimin knows he’s found the right person.
That doesn’t mean he isn’t extremely wary about associating himself with him. The most he knows about Stealo is that he, well, steals. Even his power is a mystery to Jimin. Whatever his crimes are, they’ve been well covered up.
Jimin reckons that’s because of Luna’s influence, both in the underground and with official authorities.
Even the villains in this city live privileged lives.
What a joke.
Whatever. As long as Stealo has what he needs, he doesn’t give a damn. He checks his watch. T-minus two hours until their scheduled meetup. Jimin has his disguise ready at the foot of the bed, but that should only take him half an hour to put on. So he turns on the TV again, switching the channel until he comes upon something a little spicier than V’s get up.
As in, the actors on TV don’t have a get up.
Jimin finds himself unzipping his pants, palming himself until he’s breathing hard. The actors on TV are not his type—too fake, too performative—but it’s the most release he’s going to get, so he lets himself drown in their moans until he’s moaning himself, sullying his palm in the process.
An hour later, he’s donning a dark haired wig full of soft curls that fall just beneath his shoulders. He wears fake lashes and bold lipstick and a tight black dress hugs his ass. Black stockings come up to the middle of his thigh, and he slips on a pair of shoes with block heels. Jewellery on his ears, neck and fingers complete the look.
He looks like he’s only after one thing with the get up, but that’s exactly what he’s going for. Let people remember someone looking for some action on their streets. It’s better than anyone knowing the feared Phantom Arsonist might be lurking around. There’s a bounty on his head, after all, and he’s sure heroes and villains alike wouldn’t hesitate to turn him in if they knew who he was.
The underground ironically enough exists above ground in the heart of Itaewon, as long as you know where to look. And though Jimin hasn’t been here in years, he finds that not much has changed since he first stumbled upon this place at age fifteen, searching for tools much like the ones he needs right now.
Back then he didn’t have the money to acquire them though. Back then, he moved in the shadows and took what he needed from right under their noses, leaving not a single trace behind. He could do the same now, but he doesn’t want to start a hunt for missing weapons. He already exists as one kind of phantom; better to keep his real powers a secret, if he can help it.
That’s the only reason they haven’t found him.
Stealo is exactly where he said he would be, wearing exactly what he said he would. He overlooks a dance floor from the second floor balcony, his casual fit of flannel and jeans sticking out like a sore thumb amongst its well dressed patrons. But then Luna owns this club, so Stealo can wear whatever he wants.
He doesn’t spot Jimin right away. Jimin knows because Stealo’s dark eyes go right over him. He looks like just another customer here. After all, he’s not the only man dressed like a woman in this place. If Jimin ever found time to have fun, he thinks he could find it here.
The thought is a fleeting one.
He goes right up to the bouncer at the bottom of the staircase leading up, hand on his hip as he nods in Stealo’s direction. “I’m here to meet with Stealo. Tell him Mini is here to see him.”
The bouncer narrows his eyes, but he puts a finger to his ear, radioing someone upstairs with the information. Jimin turns to look up at Stealo just as Stealo looks at him, his curiosity turning into surprise before he schools his face into a mask of indifference.
Someone stands behind him, relaying the information Jimin just gave. A few seconds later, he’s being let up the stairs. He doesn’t bother thanking the bouncer, just straightens his back as he climbs the stairs, head high.
Stealo waits for him in the same spot, but now he no longer faces the dance floor. Instead he leans against the railing, twirling his drink in his hand. His cropped brown hair and bare face give him a boyish look, but his stance exudes confidence, almost like he’s the real owner of this place.
As it is, Luna isn’t around, so effectively, he is.
“Well at least your name sort of does you justice,” Stealo says as Jimin approaches. “Though compared to some of the people here, I wouldn’t exactly call you small. I’m guessing ‘Mini’ isn’t your real name.”
“And ‘Stealo’ isn’t yours,” Jimin retorts. “Let’s skip the pleasantries. Where’s my stuff?”
Stealo huffs, obviously amused, but he pushes off the railing. “Follow me.”
Jimin keeps his eyes peeled as he follows Stealo down a hallway away from the club. There are a bunch of doorways on either side, all covered by velvet curtains. It doesn’t take a genius to know what’s going on behind those curtains, even if the loud music pumping through the club covers most of the moans.
They reach the end of the hallway, and Stealo opens a door to what looks like an office. There’s no one inside, though it looks well used, decked out in ostentatious furniture and trinkets on the shelves. A photo sits on the desk depicting Stealo and a handsome man. Both are smiling, hands around each other’s shoulders. It’s odd to see it in the darkened room, brings a light to it that is just… unusual.
Jimin turns away when he notices Stealo staring, the corner of his lip tilted up. “So?” he says, impatient.
“You sure you want it right away?” Stealo asks, eyeing him up and down. “If you want, I can take you on a tour around the club, let you try our signature cocktail. Luna came up with the recipe himself.”
“No thanks,” Jimin responds dryly. He has no interest in letting this stranger butter him up and get him drunk to learn all his secrets.
“Right.” Stealo chuckles, turning to reach behind his desk. Jimin tenses until he sees the man pull up a black duffel bag. He sets this on the coffee table and unzips it while Jimin watches on. And then he begins unpacking it, laying it all out for Jimin to see—fireproof suit, matches, flame thrower, gloves, smoke bombs, mask…
Jimin inspects all of it carefully, touching each item and making sure there are no defects. Afterwards, he reaches into his purse for several wads of cash, laying them out on the desk where there’s space.
He could have acquired all of this officially, but that would put him on the radar of people who can’t know who he is. This way, he remains a ghost—a phantom, if you will—who hides beneath a thick mask of beauty. Stealo likely thinks he’s buying all this for a client, not himself.
Stealo cocks an eyebrow. “All good?”
“All good,” Jimin says, and watches while the man carefully packs everything away again. He hands the bag to Jimin only after inspecting one of the notes on the table, making sure the money he’s getting is real.
Stealo whistles. “Very nice. Though why you’d come to me for something so simple, I don’t really get. There are plenty of other merchants who might have been able to get you these items for half the price.”
“You work for Luna. Luna has an eye for quality. I wanted the best.”
Stealo lets out an amused hum, a dimple appearing in his cheek. “Luna does have a good eye, I’ll give you that. Are you from around here?”
Jimin hauls the duffel bag on his shoulder, pointedly ignoring the question, then grabs a few more hundreds from his purse, tossing it onto Stealo’s desk. “Bring me out the back entrance. You have one from here, don’t you?”
He knows he does. He spent hours staking out this place over the last few days. He’s seen the people going in and out of an alleyway, figuring it must be for special employees to come and go undetected—or run from the authorities should they need to.
“Do you think throwing money around is going to get me to do whatever you want?” Stealo asks, gaze hardening.
“I think you’d rather not find out what I can do with the equipment I just purchased from you.”
Stealo snorts. “A fire enthusiast, are you?”
Jimin cocks a hip. “Something like that.”
Stealo doesn’t seem at all perturbed by the thinly veiled threat. In fact, he seems to have no qualms letting Jimin out the back entrance. He opens the closet door and knocks on it in a pattern. The wall behind it caves inward and slides to the left. A dark passageway is revealed.
“Follow this to the end. The door’s got a password on the outside, so I’d recommend against trying to use it as an entrance if you ever want to come back,” Stealo says.
Jimin refrains from rolling his eyes. “I won’t be coming back.”
He doesn’t spare Stealo one more glance, instead begins down the pathway. He thinks Stealo has already forgotten about him, but ten steps in, he hears him call out for him. “Hey Mini!”
Jimin turns around, glaring back at Stealo, only for his eyes to widen when he sees something hurtling his way. Jimin reaches out to catch it between his thumb and forefinger—it’s a business card, one that has an unfamiliar name on it, followed by a phone number.
Kim Namjoon.
With a sharp glance up, Jimin catches Stealo’s eye. “What is this?”
Stealo grins. “It’s my personal business card, only available to the customers I like.”
Jimin has no idea what he’s done to make Stealo—no, Namjoon—like him, and he thinks about crushing it in his fingers and throwing it back. He’s not in the business of making friends.
But Namjoon adds, “Call me if you need something, okay? And I mean anything.”
The wide grin on Namjoon’s face, followed by another appraisal of Jimin’s body, is what finally tells Jimin what Namjoon is interested in. His body. Maybe he dressed a little too skimpy, a little too hot. He hadn’t anticipated that his seller might be into men.
A blush creeps up his cheeks, and he’s annoyed about the show of interest, but he pockets the card anyway.
Because Namjoon’s preferences aside, Jimin has just learned another vital piece of information from watching the business card fly through the air so smoothly there was no way it was natural—Namjoon is just like him: a Super.
🔥
Jimin spent the first ten years of his life in and out of small towns south of the country. He didn’t stay in one place for more than a few months. His education consisted of six-hour lessons daily delivered by his father—and not just in what they could find in textbooks. When he was old enough to walk, he was fighting, punching, kicking, defending.
Father didn’t leave a single stone unturned. The only thing they hadn’t anticipated was his untimely death.
Jimin shakes the thought as he punches his frustrations out at a gym, not stopping even when his arms burn. He doesn’t usually come to Seoul, preferring to stay on its outskirts, or in cities like Busan or Gwangju, but he received a tip that there might be information he needs in the capital, hence his reluctant visit.
After the gym, he walks back to the motel he’s staying in, covered from head to toe in sweat. While he enjoys his fair share of crossdressing, he prefers gym wear over everything else. It’s comfortable and lets him breathe a little. As a so-called villain, he’s lucky no one knows his face, so he doesn’t have to worry about walking around in the daylight.
Once in his room, he turns on the TV, letting the news channel play while he strips out of his sweaty clothes. Pale light seeps into the room through the drawn thin curtains, bathing it in gold evening colours.
Jimin sits on the foot of the bed once he’s stripped down to his boxers, still cooling down from his intense workout. He digs a granola bar out of his bag, eating it as he half pays attention and half mentally goes over the plan he’s going to put into action tomorrow. It’s the reason he’s in Seoul. After that… After that, perhaps, he’ll finally get what he’s been looking for.
“... breaking news. We’re at the scene of the fire now. As you can see, the building is still being salvaged as much as it can be, with police only just now making it on scene. The fire began exactly one hour ago. It is still unclear if there have been any casualties or injuries.”
Jimin frowns, hand dropping to his lap as he takes in the scene on TV. For some reason, the burning building looks familiar. His eyes drop to read the text on the screen as the camera pans to a view from the sky, and—
He snaps to his feet, mouth ajar as it hits him just why he knows this building.
Because he’s spent the last month researching it, studying it, staking it out, learning all of its ins and outs, the number of staff who work there, the people who visit—all for a plan he was going to carry out tomorrow. Tomorrow.
But today the building is burning.
“We’ve just received an update. It turns out everyone evacuated the building safely,” the reporter on screen says. The wind sends the fire blowing up into the air behind her, a symbol of Jimin’s failures. “What did not survive, however, were all the records inside. Every single sheet of paper has been burnt to a crisp.”
Jimin’s world tilts.
Burnt to a crisp.
Whatever the reporter says next fades into the background. His ears are ringing. On the bedside table, the lamp flickers.
All the records…
He needed this. As soon as he learned about the existing record, he knew he needed to get his hands on it. He knew it was the only way he could get evidence of what happened, to hurt them, to hurt her, where it would hurt most.
Every single sheet…
And now it’s gone. Someone has burnt it down, stolen his chance at some form of redemption. He should have known it was just a pipe dream. Everything slips from his grasp eventually. His father, his mother, the boy he met at the beach… Any hope of connecting with someone he wanted to understand was ripped away, one by one.
Until he was left with nothing.
The world plunges into darkness. The gold light bleeding in through the window, the lamp on the bedside table, the light emanating from the TV—it all winks out of existence for one second. Jimin’s world becomes malleable, his mind connecting with the darkness—a fearsome foe, a familiar friend, ready to drag him in.
And then it all returns, rushing back in a flash. He crouches, eyes shut as his power bites back without mercy. His eyes burn with the leftovers of the absorbed light. Once taken, it has to be returned, has to go somewhere. So it blinds him for a second, bright and brilliant, and it’s a few moments before his vision goes back to normal.
He stumbles onto his backside, head hitting the edge of the mattress. His heart races as it usually does when his power activates on its own. It does that sometimes, when panic grips him. After all these years, it still does that.
He supposes it's a consequence of having so many demons.
“... claw marks on the walls. Whoever did this, it wasn’t an ordinary human. I think we have an unknown Super on our hands,” the reporter drones on TV. Jimin looks at the images being shown now, claws having ripped into the plaster on the walls.
It might look scary to the average viewer, but to Jimin it’s a clue.
He picks up his fallen granola as his heart returns to a normal pace. His knowledge of Seoul’s villains is limited, but he now knows one person who might be able to help him—and his number sits idle and waiting in the pocket of his dress.
🔥
Namjoon says Beast frequents a rooftop bar in Hongdae. Not a lot of Supers go there, and people need help sometimes, you know? Jimin doesn’t know. Hongdae is a hodge podge collection of college students, foreigners and creepy old men looking for a good time. Not exactly high on his bucket list—or even on his bucket list at all.
“He fancies himself a vigilante,” Namjoon told him over the phone, tone fond. “If you see him, give him a kiss from me, will you?”
It’s an odd request, so Jimin chooses to ignore it. He enters the district dressed in black head to toe. He leaves the top three buttons of his shirt undone and rolls his sleeves up. His hair, he leaves just a little unruly, a crafted mess that hangs just a little over his eyes.
There’s an anger simmering inside him as he stalks across the street, eyes everywhere while also honed in on his destination, a nondescript door between two large clubs. It’s a secret bar, but Jimin thinks Namjoon told him about it because Jimin said he wanted to commend this Beast for a job well done on the fire.
He goes up the short set of steps to the door, then hauls it open and steps inside. A bouncer stands there in a short hallway, eyeing him warily.
“Password,” he says sternly. Behind him is a drawn curtain. Jimin can’t hear a single noise beyond it. If not for the knowledge Namjoon provided, he might not have known this place had anything of value at all.
Jimin leans forward, hands in pockets. “Bulletproof,” he says, the English word foreign on his tongue.
The bouncer pulls the curtain aside. “Through the door in the back. Take the lift up to the fifth floor.”
Jimin straightens, face impassive. “Thanks.”
The lift creaks when he enters. It’s old. The mirrors have been drawn on with markers and there’s graffiti above his head. He reserves his opinions. Right now, he doesn’t give a damn. He just wants to find Beast, kill him and move on. It’s a simple job. He’ll be in and out of here within the hour.
When the lift doors open, he’s greeted with the low thump of a bass, reverberating seemingly through the entire floor. This is not the roof, but he spots a set of stairs at the other end of the room. The bar itself is lavish, long fake crystals hanging overhead reflecting the light. His eyes dart left and right as he steps out of the lift, searching for his target.
“How will I know it’s him?”
“Oh, that’s easy. He likes the colour red. You definitely won’t miss him.”
Jimin’s head snaps towards the stairs when he catches sight of a flash of red. A pair of long legs in bright red disappear from sight, but not for long. Jimin waltzes across the floor with ease, narrowly avoiding bumping into shoulders and arms. He doesn’t hesitate to climb the stairs, which lead to an open rooftop.
The first thing he notices is a wind chill. He doesn’t get cold easily but this one whips across his face and makes him shiver from his neck down to his lower back. It’s a minor inconvenience right now. His mind is focused, taking in his surroundings—the potted plants along the edge, the people and how they move, the view of Hongdae district.
Jimin’s eyes find red. He now knows why Namjoon said he would recognise Beast, because it’s not just the red suit, complete with a long red overshirt, that gives him away. Not just the red hair, and the flame tattoo snaking up his neck. It’s the familiar face—because he’s the same man Namjoon posed with in that picture on his desk.
Namjoon’s request to pass Beast kisses now makes more sense.
The young man is handsome, Jimin notes, eyes almost innocent, like he’s playing dress up, hanging out with a bunch of villains from the underground. They may be six stories above ground, but Jimin recognises a few faces. He’s seen them during his forays into the underbelly of society, whether that was attending a fight ring for Supers or when he needed weapons from the black market. These people are bad news.
But then again, so is Jimin.
He finds a place to stand where he has a clear view of Beast. He watches him swirl the drink in his hand much like Namjoon did when Jimin first saw him. He watches him talk animatedly, nose scrunching every time someone says something funny. His companions are a woman and a man, but they stand a little distant from him, like they’re tolerating him.
Beast doesn’t seem to care. He goes on and on until his drink is finished, at which point he finally looks away from the people with him.
Looks away—
And sees Jimin staring.
It must catch him off guard, because his smile drops and surprise flickers across his face. To his credit, he does compose himself quickly, saying something to his companions before making a beeline in Jimin’s direction. There’s a confidence to his stance that Jimin doesn’t like.
This is the man who ruined his plans. He’s back to square zero because of him.
Jimin waits until Beast is halfway towards him before he turns away. He walks past a row of potted plants, removing a hand from a pocket as he flicks, flicks, flicks, until every single one is sizzling, so quietly, it would take a Super with enhanced hearing to catch it.
He’s halfway down the stairs when the noise breaks out. Someone shouts “fire!”, but Jimin pays it no mind. He has Beast’s attention, and that was what he wanted. Dodging drunk patrons, he makes it to the lift, then takes a sharp turn to a set of stairs leading down. He might not be able to see him, but he knows Beast is following.
Jimin leads him out of the bar, through the throngs of people on the street, away from Hongdae’s main club area, and to an empty alleyway. He keeps walking even when the footsteps become audible, keeps walking until he hears him call out.
“Hey.”
Jimin slows down, belly churning red hot like Beast’s clothes.
“They had to bring out a fire extinguisher. People were panicking. Hello?”
He’s nearing the end of the alley. They’re far enough away from stray or lingering eyes that deign to see.
“No one got hurt. If that was your plan, you failed pretty spectacularly.”
Jimin stops walking, sighing. He hears Beast’s nervous chuckle. He’s definitely a novice—loud, obnoxious, red. He isn’t subtle at all.
If Jimin had gotten the chance to look at that hidden record, he would be one step closer to closing the door on the years he lost as a kid. He would be closer to understanding why it had to happen, closer to banishing the nightmares that plague him, and closer to avenging his father. Beast ruined it.
Before the young man can say another word, the world blinks.
News anchors call him the Phantom Arsonist, but the truth is, only the first part of the name fits. He creates fire with tools he gets from people like Namjoon. But he moves like a phantom because of his power.
When the light winks out, he can use the darkness to travel. His other senses heighten, aware of every molecule inside what the scientists used to call a ‘phantom dome’. Within this dome, he can move at the speed of light, going from ten feet away to inches in a split second.
That’s how his knife pierces a nanometre of skin less than a second later, the light returning to their surroundings and lingering in the glowing orbs in Jimin’s eyes. It’s a sight only the dead get to see.
Up close, Beast smells like flowers. He wears red and has innocence in his eyes and he smells like flowers.
“Oh fuck,” Beast whispers harshly, trying to back away but unable to budge an inch with the way Jimin holds him. “You’re him, aren’t you? The Phantom Arsonist.”
Jimin is going to kill him. He’s going to slice his throat and leave him to bleed out in this alley. He doesn’t give a fuck that he might be severing a short lived connection with Luna’s right hand man. Beast deserves to die.
“For burning those records,” Jimin snarls, letting him know the reason behind his death even though it won’t matter in a second.
Beast lets out a choked sound. “I—”
Jimin never gets to hear the end of that sentence, but it’s not because of his own doing. Suddenly, the ground is dropping beneath him, and he’s so startled by it that he drops his knife. It clatters to the ground at Beast’s feet, and that’s the last Jimin sees of it before the Super holding him flies them over a rooftop and the alley disappears from view.
Jimin acts on instinct. He plunges the world into darkness, about to escape along the shadows when the arms around his body start to glow. It’s impossible—to counter his powers like that. This shouldn’t be possible. It’s like Jimin’s power means nothing.
He’s only ever met one person who could light up the darkness in his phantom dome.
With a twist of his head, Jimin lets the excess light in his body pool in his eyes just like before, until they glow so bright, his assailant goes blind.
They crash onto a rooftop, tumbling over one another until Jimin’s ribs ache and his limbs feel bruised.
The hold on him loosens, and Jimin uses the momentum from the fall to pin the enemy beneath him, hands to his throat.
In the same way, rage pins Jimin down. All he can feel is the boiling blood in his veins and the burning in his fingertips and a sudden uncontrollable desire to kill this Super who can counter his abilities.
As he increases pressure on that neck, it registers in his mind that he knows this face, even without the tacky gold costume. Because it’s V, the new hero, the one who was just on TV. The one who flies and glows. The one who promised to keep this city safe. Perhaps he shouldn’t have made such a bold promise, Jimin thinks. Now he’ll die before he can keep it.
And then, though his voice is strained, the hero speaks. “Jimin.”
Rage whittles away, cowers behind a boulder big enough to be a mountain, over which Jimin doesn’t have time or strength to conquer. His mind whirs. This V knows his name. He knows him. How? How?
“J- Jimin,” he says again, wheezing. Jimin’s grip tightens as panic fills him. The world seems to flicker around him, his powers about to activate without his bidding. When it happens like that, he’s always left exhausted. It takes him back to the first time he discovered his power, the way darkness surrounded him and he didn’t know up from down.
V blinks. His face turns red. “Jim…”
A bright light catches Jimin’s attention, and he turns to V’s hand, which glows like a beacon in the darkness. It’s then that the memory comes rushing back—the glowing hand, his fear of the dark, the boy on the beach.
Beneath him is someone he could have been friends with, in another lifetime.
“Taehyung.”
“You’re a Super,” Jimin remarked, a little in awe. It was rare he ever met other Supers his age. Most of them attended gifted schools, kept away from normal people in order to hone their skills and become the heroes they were meant to be.
“How could you tell?” Taehyung asked. The question was facetious, lighthearted and accompanied by a warm smile that instantly put Jimin at ease.
“Hard to say, but I’m pretty sure it’s the glowing hand.”
Taehyung held up his hand, and it burned brighter. “This one?”
“Yeah,” Jimin laughed. “Yeah exactly.”
Jimin’s hesitance costs him a kill. A moment later, Taehyung grabs his wrists and tugs them across each other, bringing their faces only inches apart. The hero breathes in several deep, shaky breaths as Jimin watches on, too bewildered—too shocked—to move.
“You’re the boy who could glow just like me,” Taehyung says, voice reedier than how he sounded on TV, though Jimin attributes that to the fact he almost had the life squeezed out of him. His dark eyes threaten to pull Jimin down an abyss with no end.
There’s a denial on Jimin’s lips, but it would be a lie. Because they both know. They were both there. Jimin saw Taehyung, and Taehyung saw him—he saw everything. Once upon a time, Jimin would have trusted him with anything.
Now he runs. In a rush of desperation, he sucks the light out of Taehyung’s hand and out of all his surroundings until his body burns with it. He doesn’t linger to see Taehyung break through it again. He escapes into the alleyway below, then over to the next block, and the next, his body catapulted through the darkness where up and down and left and right doesn’t exist.
He should be used to it. It’s not the first time he’s had to spread his powers out over such a large distance to get away.
But the thing is—
The thing is, he hates when the darkness lasts this long, when it surrounds him and pulses in his veins until he’s not sure where he ends, much less where he begins. The worst of it is that all the light absorbed needs somewhere to go when he’s done.
You’re the boy who could glow just like me.
No.
As Jimin holes himself up in a dingy club bathroom, every particle on his skin burning bright like the sun, he’s thinking how Taehyung couldn’t be more wrong.
🔥
They were ten years old when they first met, under shadow and moonlight as Jimin searched the sand for what he had lost. If he had been older and less naïve, perhaps he would have understood Taehyung’s nature right away. But as it was, he was lacking in friends, and Taehyung arrived just when he needed him.
“What are you looking for?” a young Taehyung asked, bouncing from heels to balls to heels from where he was perched on the pavement next to the beach.
“Um…” Jimin knew not to talk to strangers, but this was a boy. His defences remained dropped. “My iPod. I don’t know where it went.”
“Maybe I can help.”
It was the first time Jimin met a Super his age. That’s probably why he trusted him right away, and why they agreed to keep meeting up at the beach, even though Jimin never found his iPod and his dad had to get him a new one. Taehyung was Jimin’s first friend. He was a light in the darkness, warmth in the loneliness, laughter in the silence.
He was everything until the night everything was ripped away. Jimin believed he would never see him again.
Now he’s a hero. Of course he’s a hero. That boy tried so hard to find his lost item. He would search the beach even when Jimin wasn’t there, squinting at every inch of sand in the blazing sun, continuing to look with the glow of his hand as his flashlight.
He used to wonder during his first few years at the facility what might have happened to his friend Taehyung. If he, as a Super, might have been taken to a place just like this too. He drew comfort by imagining them finding each other again and coming up with plans to escape. Maybe Taehyung had been a Super in hiding too—that’s why he wasn’t at a school for Supers. Maybe Taehyung had lost his parents too.
But it turned out that Jimin’s whirlwind fantasies had been completely wrong. To become a city hero, one had to be educated at a school, had to pass morality tests and power tests and who knows what else. Taehyung is a part of that. He’s led a different, more privileged life while Jimin was poked and prodded at until his body turned limp and his brain felt like mush.
He shouldn’t have dreamed.
Now that dream is shattered.
Jimin cracks open a bottle of whiskey he acquired from a nearby liquor store, filling a paper cup with the stuff before settling onto the bed. He leaves the TV on at a high enough volume to get the occasional thump against the wall from next door telling him to keep it down. Jimin ignores it.
It doesn’t take long for the liquor to settle in, giving his body a nice, pleasant buzz. Usually he refrains from habits like these, preferring to stay in control of his actions, but he thinks tonight he deserves this. It’s better than focusing on the ugly memories that followed his separation from Taehyung.
It’s better than the bitter knowledge that he never got to say goodbye.
“V,” Jimin says out loud to an empty room. “Why the fuck are you a hero?”
The bottle is halfway done when the room starts to flicker. Jimin looks up at the ceiling light when it does, frowning in concentration. The bulb regains its normal glow, creating an afterimage in Jimin’s eyes the longer he stares.
He lifts his hand palm up, still staring, remembering an exercise the scientists taught him when he was still learning to control this power. Hand open meant lights on. Hand closed—
Jimin balls his hand into a fist, and all light disappears, blinding his eyes but doing nothing to stop him from sensing where everything is.
He opens his hand again, and light returns to his surroundings. He lets what he absorbed flow out along his arms, watching as light seems to sizzle off of him.
They wanted to push his limits back then. This was a rare ability, they said. He was special. There was so much he could do, more than probably anyone knew. But to conquer the power, he had to test it, push it and push some more.
Hand closed. Open. Closed. Open. Closed. Open. Closed—
A yelp, and then something falling to the ground in his neighbour’s room. A voice speaks in the dome, Jimin senses, but it’s warped, this indecipherable thing. Nothing can penetrate the darkness completely. Nothing except Taehyung.
Open.
Jimin stares at his palm as he sends the absorbed light there. The way it glows is not much different than the way Taehyung glows, except to Jimin it burns. When concentrated in one place, it becomes almost unbearable. He should spread it out. That’s what he was taught to do.
But he’s drunk and upset and rebellious. He doesn’t want to do what they taught him. He wants his nerves to burn. After all, he deserves it. Maybe he didn’t deserve to be taken to that facility. Maybe he didn’t deserve to watch his father die.
But hurting? He deserves that.
The shame and guilt? He deserves that.
He wishes he had never run into Taehyung, not because of what they could have been, but simply because he doesn’t want Taehyung to know the things he’s done. He wishes they could have lived forever without meeting, if just to upkeep a fantasy.
🔥
Rather than regular sleep, Jimin passes out, his whiskey almost depleted completely. It’s a deep sleep without dreams, which is probably why it takes a while for him to stir despite the incessant pounding on his door.
When he comes to, the room spins around him. His stomach twists uneasily, and he only has time to aim at the floor instead of the bed before he’s throwing up all over the carpet. He wipes his mouth with the corner of the bedsheet, his head pounding so loudly, it’s like he can hear it.
That’s when he realises that the pounding exists outside his head too.
“We are ordering all guests to vacate these rooms for a random search authorised by the Super Society for Law and Order. Come outside or we will break down this door.”
The SSLO? They’re a faction of the government that deals in all Super business. They have the authority to arrest Supers acting outside the law, to bind them with special equipment that makes them powerless.
Shit.
This is bad.
Jimin sobers up immediately. Tossing aside the blanket, he jumps to his feet, shouting “Coming!” just to placate whoever’s outside. The pounding on the door stops. With some bought time, Jimin tosses everything he owns into two duffel bags, then takes a quick peek out the window.
An officer waits right outside his door, and there are others along the hallway, some talking to guests who have opened their doors to the inspection, and others in the courtyard below. It’s trawling with law enforcement.
Random searches like this don’t happen often, not unless there’s a well known criminal on the loose.
But they can’t be here for him. No one knows the Phantom Arsonist is in Seoul. No one knows who the Phantom Arsonist is, or what he looks like.
Unless—
You’re him, aren’t you? The Phantom Arsonist.
Somehow Beast knew who he was. The look in his eyes had been certain. He picked Jimin out immediately. How? How could anyone know? Jimin’s been careful. He never leaves traces of himself behind—not a single hair or fingerprint. He wears a mask on jobs. He escapes using his phantom dome.
No one could’ve known. So how?
As far as criminals go, the Phantom Arsonist is not the worst of the worst, but he targets official government buildings and powerful people, which has put him high on the wanted list. If Beast has revealed that he’s in the city, if he’s given them a sketch, then they could have found him.
Jimin might sometimes travel via darkness, but he hasn’t escaped every camera in the city, not to mention every person.
They’re here for him.
That’s the only logical explanation.
Jimin takes a deep breath, anger simmering. And then he metaphorically closes a palm, and the world goes dark.
🔥
Itaewon looks different during the day. Jimin wears jeans and a sweater over his fire-proof suit as he walks along a length of bars and clubs that aren’t yet open. A hat shields his face and sunglasses shield his eyes. His mind has settled on what he’s going to do.
His plan is simple, if reckless. It’ll piss off Luna, and it will probably make Jimin a lot of enemies with people who are enemies of society just like him, but he doesn’t care. Let them turn him into a target. Beast has to die.
Jimin finds the back entrance easily. Namjoon warned him it was password protected, but that doesn’t stop Jimin from sticking what he likes to call fire gum on the mechanism. It turns the password machine to cinders, unlocking the door just like that.
Luckily, it doesn’t trigger any alarms, though Jimin figured even if it had, he could complete his mission in the dark. This way, though, he can take his time. Savour the walk down the hallway leading to Namjoon’s office. At its end, he performs the same knocking pattern he watched Namjoon do, and the secret door opens into the closet. Jimin removes his sunglasses once he’s in.
It’s early enough that no one is at work yet. That means Jimin can work in peace. He opens his bag and removes a baggie filled with flammable powder. This secret entrance will be his escape route, so he decides to begin on the main floor. It doesn’t take long to sprinkle powder along the bar, the floors, the chairs and tables.
The great thing about this powder is that it doesn’t leave a trace. Since he created it, it’s been his villain disguise. No one knows that the Phantom Arsonist doesn’t use superpowers to make things burn. It keeps his real powers a secret, and keeps the people who hurt him from finding out he’s still alive.
When Jimin finishes with the first floor, he moves onto the second. He enters every private room, sprinkling powder over surfaces, enough that when the fire catches, it’ll burn everything around it.
In the second to last room, though, Jimin freezes. Because stretched out on the bed is a man. He’s shirtless, and his shoes are propped up near the curtain entrance. It doesn’t look like he works here, which means he must be a guest.
But that’s strange. As far as Jimin knows, this is not an overnight club. If a guest is still here, it must be by accident.
Jimin approaches quietly, spotting a collection of stuff on a table. There’s a wallet there, keys, a lanyard with an ID. Picking the last item up, Jimin reads: Min Yoongi, Producer, Genius Lab. Jimin isn’t exactly up to date with pop culture, but he has heard of Genius Lab, a music studio that does production for some of the biggest names in the country.
If he’s a Super, his powers must be low level, but more likely, he’s an ordinary citizen.
An ordinary citizen who’s about to burn.
Jimin drops the lanyard back where he found it, then walks right up to the sleeping figure, nudging his shoulder. Yoongi groans, squeezing his eyes shut. “Go away, Jin,” he mumbles. “Not everyone is on the same schedule as…”
He trails off, falling back asleep. Annoyed, Jimin grabs an unfinished drink from the table and tosses it in the guy’s face. Yoongi startles into awakeness, sitting up in the bed as he touches his eyes and hisses.
“What the fuck!”
Jimin takes the opportunity to manhandle Yoongi to his feet, grabbing his wrists to hold at his back. Jimin stands behind him so he can’t see his face, but even if he does, would it matter anymore? Beast has already told the authorities what he looks like.
Yoongi struggles against him, but he’s not strong enough to get out of Jimin’s iron grip. “Hey, what’s going on? Who are you?”
“You’ve overstayed your welcome,” Jimin says, shoving Yoongi towards the curtain door. He walks him to Namjoon’s office, kicking the door open with a foot. Once at the closet, he says, “Use this to get out of here. You better run if you don’t want to die.”
“D- Die? Are you kidding me? Who the hell are you?”
“Go,” Jimin says, pushing Yoongi forward a few steps. The man just slows to a stop, beginning to turn around. Immediately, Jimin tugs his hat lower, turning aside. “I’ve given you a warning. If you die, it’s not on me.”
“What are you planning to do?” Yoongi sounds sharp when he says that, not at all scared of Jimin’s threats, and definitely not hungover like Jimin expected. He stalks right up to Jimin, unafraid. “Who are you?”
Jimin catches sight of his eyes, and suddenly all he can feel is a sense of trust for this stranger he’s never met. His anger burns down to nothing, and like his special fire powder, it doesn’t seem to leave a trace. Calmness rolls through him in its place, soft and soothing.
“I’m—” Jimin cuts himself off abruptly. That can’t be right. He wasn’t really about to respond to Yoongi’s question… was he?
With a hand to Yoongi’s chest, Jimin shoves him into the hallway leading outside, and then he sucks the light out of the air, giving him enough time to hit a panel on the wall to shut the door in the closet.
So much for having an exit route.
Whatever. Jimin couldn’t care less when he has plenty of other ways out of here. He empties his baggie in the office, then picks up the photo frame on the desk.
Beast doesn’t have red hair in the photo, but he does wear a red t-shirt. He looks a few years younger, his hair clean cut and his eyes shining in the sunlight. His smile reminds Jimin of a bunny. He stands next to a flannel-clad Namjoon, who looks fondly at the camera, dimples on full display.
They look happy.
Jimin’s anger returns in full force as he slams the frame against the desk. The glass shatters, but his gloves mean he doesn’t get cut from it. Carefully, he pries the photo out of there, and then he takes a marker out of his bag and draws a bright red cross on Beast’s body. This, he sticks to the wall in the closet using fireproof tape.
It’s a warning.
He’s coming for Beast, and no one can stop him.
🔥
Jimin decides to watch the building burn on the roof across the street. He finds a shaded spot where he can remain hidden while still watching the way orange flames flicker beyond the windows of the club. He doesn’t usually stick around, but he’s in a foul mood and he thinks this is the remedy to lift it.
He sits back, breathing in the scent of burnt materials as it floats over towards him. It burns slowly, flickering across furniture and carpet and cement. If Jimin listens closely, he can make out the crackle of it, can hear the panels in the roof come crashing down.
Fire has always fascinated him. Maybe because it’s so close to light, an element he works with, except it’s tangible. It can hurt him. He once was forced to douse a fire with his powers, plunge the world into darkness by absorbing fire. The result left him with a burn mark on the back of his hand for weeks. Even now there’s a faint scar.
He touches this absentmindedly, mind finally calming. Soon, Beast will come looking for him. How can he not, when Jimin has just burnt down his boyfriend’s club? Maybe Luna will come after him too. As Stealo’s boss, Jimin wouldn’t put it past him.
Jimin isn’t afraid. He can handle himself against criminals.
A few minutes of silence pass. Jimin gets lost in his thoughts until he remembers why he’s there. For some reason, there’s something odd about this fire. It just… isn’t spreading as fast as it usually does. He hasn’t seen a single lick of flame flicker through the window for several minutes.
Did he mess up the formula for his powder? It usually catches immediately, turning everything into cinders within half an hour.
Now… Now there’s no movement.
Just a chill in the air.
An errant wind.
And footsteps.
Footsteps?
Jimin jumps to his feet just as a figure rounds a corner. His stomach plunges when he sees Taehyung there, gold costume hugging him from head to toe. He looks at ease, like he expected to find Jimin here.
“The view’s not what you expected, is it?” he says.
And that’s how Jimin knows that someone stopped the fire. He doesn’t know how, or who could have done it, but he does know that Taehyung, a hero who works for the government, is here. Which means Jimin needs to run. He’s not safe here. Taehyung knows his name—his real name. It’s only a matter of time before they find him.
Jimin activates his dome in an instant, but it’s like Taehyung expected it, because he glows instantly, countering the darkness in such a way that Jimin can’t even move within it. Never mind. Jimin can just absorb Taehyung’s light. Take it fast enough and run as soon as it’s pitch black.
His only thought is: get away get away get away.
But when Jimin goes to take Taehyung’s light, the hero just reignites, stronger. It becomes a cycle, because Jimin can’t absorb the light faster than Taehyung can light up again, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t going to try.
Of all the people who could have become a hero, Taehyung was the worst one. He’s Jimin’s match—his ultimate rival.
Is this where Jimin falls? Right here, on this dirty rooftop in a city he doesn’t like, by the hand of the only friend he’s ever had?
“Give it up,” Taehyung says. “You’re no match for me.”
The words make Jimin try harder, sucking in the light until his head starts to hurt from overuse of his power. It hits him that the limits he worked to stretch as a kid were nothing compared to this. Because Taehyung is a constant source of power. Jimin could never bleed him dry.
He can’t.
It’s over.
Taehyung has him beat.
Jimin collapses to his knees as the world goes back to normal. He hunches in on himself, barely hearing Taehyung’s words because he’s bleeding light. It coats every inch of his skin and pools in his eyes, glowing so bright that even Taehyung has to shield his eyes. The burn is like nothing he’s ever felt before. It’s like his skin is peeling from his body, slow and never ending.
There’s a noise from somewhere far away.
It sounds like someone crying.
He thinks someone calls for him, but the world wavers before his eyes, bright light filling the edges of his vision.
The last thing he sees is Taehyung’s face crouched over him, brows pinched in concern, and behind him, a figure approaching, red hair bright and unmistakable: Beast.
Chapter 2
Notes:
hello! now that i've been revealed, i thought i'd add a little welcome note on this chapter. i think it goes without saying to read the tags. i don't plan to do chapter content warnings unless i really see the need to somewhere down the line, so just be mindful of that and stay safe. if i add any tags, i'll be sure to warn you in an author's note in bold so you don't miss it. (speaking of, i did add a hurt/comfort tag since i posted the first chapter)
some background on this fic: i actually started this almost a year ago intending it to be vmin with a sort of sad/open ending, but i very quickly got stuck and ended up abandoning this for a few months. when i found out about this fest, i decided to revisit the idea, and thus my first jm x everyone fic was born – with no sad endings in sight :D
i’m really excited for this one and can’t wait to bring you all along for the ride :] if you’re reading this, thank you for giving this a chance. i hope it doesn’t disappoint, and please let me know your thoughts if you have any. comments are always incredibly motivating for me <3
🔥🔥🔥
Chapter Text
Jimin wakes up alone in a darkened room, curtains drawn, daylight only just piercing through. The first thing he notices, physically, is the headache. It pounds just behind his eyes, evidence of the way he abused his power yesterday.
Yesterday… Humiliation has him gritting his teeth. To have let a rookie hero defeat him is embarrassing, but it’s more than that. It’s the fact that it was Taehyung who did it, only to turn around and look at him with pity in his eyes, like Jimin was a wounded animal who needed safekeeping.
Is that why he’s here? In this four poster bed on a mattress that’s so soft, he feels like he’s sinking? Pillows surround him on seemingly all sides, and there are three layers to the sheets on top of him, trapping him. He tosses these aside with a huff, pillows spilling over onto the floor, and despite his headache, he finds the strength to roll out of bed.
He groans when his vision darkens, stars making him blind for a few seconds. Only when it clears does he drop onto the floor, his bare feet touching soft carpet. He walks over to the curtains, shoving them aside only to find himself with a bird’s eye view of the city. A lake in the distance gives away the fact that he’s still in Seoul, near Songpa-gu.
Jimin wonders if this is a prison. The windows don’t have any handles to open. What about the door? He strides towards it, grabbing the knob with the expectation that it won’t open—only for the knob to give. The door emits the slightest of creaks.
The hallway outside is short and empty. There’s one open door along it only three steps away, and even in the darkness, Jimin spies a toilet. Though this is not his home and he doesn’t know why he’s here, he slips inside anyway. His bladder is heavy, and he feels icky having slept in his fireproof suit all night. So he peels off his outer clothes, then strips out of the suit completely.
When he’s naked, he stares at himself in the mirror. He’s always been on the small side, used to be skinny until he discovered gyms and punching bags and turned that skinniness into lean muscle. It’s been a while since he looked at himself like this. He never has time. He’s always on the move, one mission after the other as he crawls ever so slowly towards his goals.
Along his chest and arms are healed scars, so faint, he only sees them because he knows they’re there. These he received from them. He touches one scar, more prominent than the others, on his left side. This one… This one was from her, a reminder that he still has a goal to accomplish.
He leans forward, his eyes a light grey, almost completely lacking colour. He must have really overworked himself yesterday for the colour to be visible right now. As far as he knows, no one has an eye colour like this, and it gives away who he is too easily. So he metaphorically closes his fist to darken them.
And nothing happens. Jimin blinks in surprise, then tries it again. He tries until he’s physically doing that childhood exercise, open palm up, close, open, close. And… nothing.
Sucking the light from his eyes so they appear dark is child’s play. It takes the smallest sliver of energy. No matter how tired he’s felt in the past, it’s the one thing he’s always able to do—to avoid recognition and keep himself safe. Now his eyes won’t change, no matter how hard he tries. Why? What happened to him?
Suddenly he’s terrified. Could he have lost his powers somehow? Did he overuse it to the point of destroying his ability?
He tries to plunge the world into darkness, even though pain slices through his head. He sways on his feet and needs to catch himself on the counter. The light remains. Everything remains.
Maybe they did something to him. He touches his skin, trying to feel for any kind of strange soreness that might have come from an injection.
But there’s nothing. As far as he can tell, they didn’t touch him.
He looks up helplessly. He used to get headaches at the facility all the time. That never stopped him from using his powers. This shouldn’t be happening. It can’t be happening.
The ceiling seems to mock him. It’s a strange colour, an uneven mix of blue and green scattered amongst pale plaster. It looks… familiar. Realisation dawns on him then. Scrambling up onto the sink counter, he reaches up to touch the minerals embedded in the ceiling.
Green—jadeite. Blue—larimar.
Both are rare minerals, harmless to Supers when separate. But put together a certain way, they can make a Super powerless. Jimin has encountered it before, back when he pinned a scientist to the ground and tried to use a shard of glass like a knife. They stopped him before he could draw any blood, threw him in a small room with walls coated with the stuff.
For the first time he experienced what it was like to be powerless.
They left him there for days.
The memory of that isolation has him curling his hand against the minerals, nails scraping along it. He might have comforts all around him, but it’s clear this is a prison. Taehyung works for the very people he’s fighting against. He must have brought him here, and they must have put him in this place made out of a Super’s kryptonite to make it impossible to defend himself.
Not to mention his bag is missing, the one with all his tools. He can’t start a fire here. He can’t make it go dark. He can’t do a single thing, and it’s all because of Taehyung.
Jumping from the counter, he puts on his clothes, then brings his folded fireproof suit to the bedroom, slipping it under the bed for later use. Right now, he needs a plan to escape. There is always a way out. He just needs to find it.
He searches the room first for anything he can use as a weapon. There’s a wooden chair against one wall. After a moment of hesitation, he shuts the room door, grabs the chair, and breaks it against his leg. One of the chair legs splinters off. Jimin carefully snaps it off the rest of the way, taking care to hold the bottom end so he doesn’t come away with a palm full of splinters.
Then, as quietly as he can, he sneaks along the hallway to the set of stairs at its end. It twists upwards to a second floor. He has no idea what he’ll find up there, so he climbs each step slowly. About halfway up, he hears the click of a door from somewhere above. A voice follows shortly after, sounding agitated, perhaps even angry.
“... don’t care what he’s done! Lay one hand on him and I will never forgive you.”
“Hey. Hey!” Another voice seems to follow the first. “Our discussion isn’t over. I get that you’re upset, but we need to take precautions. This is for your safety too.”
“He can’t hurt me.”
It occurs to Jimin that he knows the first voice. It’s Taehyung, isn’t it? His voice is like he remembers it being on TV, though now it lacks brightness. He sounds upset, perhaps a little anguished, a little desperate.
Taehyung continues to speak. “I’m the only one he can’t hurt, so let me… Let me talk to him. I just want to talk.”
A third voice joins. Jimin can hear the shuffling of feet, like someone is coming out of a room. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Jin’s right. You and Jungkook should stay away from him for now. He tried to kill both of you.”
Is that… Namjoon?
“But I know him.”
“Sorry, Tae,” the second voice says. Someone named Jin? “I promise you’ll get to talk to him, but for now, let me handle it.”
“I don’t trust you not to hurt him,” Taehyung spits.
“No? Don’t trust me suddenly huh? You think you know someone who you haven’t seen in over ten years?” Jin sounds angry now, emotional. “More than me? Has what we went through meant nothing?”
There’s tense silence for a few seconds. Jimin finds himself holding his breath, confused about what’s happening up there, but curious all the same.
“I…” It’s Taehyung. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just… He seems… I just want to help him.”
“Trust me to help him then, okay, love? I’m not going to hurt him. I’m just going to find out what he wants.”
Taehyung sighs. “Okay. I trust you, hyung.”
The footsteps seem to retreat, all except one set of them, getting louder as they approach where Jimin’s hiding. Startled, he pads down the stairs, then slips under the staircase to hide. He’s coming. Whoever this Jin is, he’s on his way.
Jimin looks up just as a figure comes into view. He can’t make out much through the slits in the stairs, but he can tell that the man has a lot of authority. It’s in the way he walks, shoulders squared back and steps assured. His dark hair is on the longer side, but it’s styled so most of it has been pushed back off his forehead.
He’s alone. For some odd reason, this stranger Jimin doesn’t know is coming to see him on his own.
Jimin grips his makeshift weapon, waiting until Jin has reached the bottom step and is heading to the bedroom before he charges out. The floor is carpeted. His breathing is even. But when he’s just about to take a swing, Jin twists around, catching the weapon in his palm, splinters and all.
He doesn’t seem bothered by it. The look on his face says he expected the attack. Surprised, Jimin kicks his foot out, intending to wind his captor, only for Jin to expertly dodge him while ripping the chair leg out of his hands. He tosses this aside, then gets into a fighting stance.
Clearly, he’s had lessons. Jimin doesn’t waste a breath. He brings his hands up to shield his head, eyeing Jin, trying to make out his weaknesses, and then he attacks—a false punch to the head before aiming low with his other fist. He catches Jin in the stomach, but the man retaliates quickly, grabbing his wrist and tugging.
Jimin uses momentum to twist himself out of it, launching into a series of punches and kicks that has Jin backing up along the hallway as he tries to dodge it. Jimin just needs to get one attack in. He needs to startle Jin, catch him off guard, and go for the final blow.
But Jin is fast. His moves are precise even if he seems to lack the same repertoire as Jimin. The small set of moves he knows, he uses with precision. Jimin is unpracticed. It doesn’t help that Jin is bigger than Jimin, stronger too.
In the end, Jimin’s desperate onslaught is what gives Jin the advantage. One moment, his fist is making a beeline to that handsome face, and the next, he’s catching air. Jin grabs him none too gently, and Jimin knows what’s going to happen before it happens. Maybe it’s because Jin has shorter legs and a lower centre of gravity. Or maybe Jimin is just unpracticed, more used to escaping than attacking head on.
But suddenly he’s being thrown, steel hands gripping him as they shove him onto the ground. His back hits the floor, the carpet dulling most of the pain. Jimin struggles out of the grip, even as Jin sits on him and pins his arms above his head. Jimin tries to kick him in the back, but Jin’s position on his chest makes him hard to reach.
“Let me go!” Jimin snarls, trying to escape the hold on his wrists.
Up close, Jin is even more beautiful. He’s got plush lips, dark eyes, perfect brows. His skin is impeccable, even bare as it is. Jimin takes in all this information and stores it. Someone as beautiful as him must care how he looks.
All out of options, Jimin spits in Jin’s face, watching the way the man flinches. But his grip doesn’t loosen. In fact, it just gets stronger.
Jimin’s spit is starting to dry on that face when Jin finally speaks. “You’re making this harder on yourself.”
Jimin keeps struggling. He’s powerless and in a stranger’s home. If he doesn’t struggle, what’s the point? He needs to get out and get away. Jin might look pretty, and the room he woke up in might have been nicely furnished, but he knows it’s just an illusion to cover up the ugliness beneath.
So he needs to escape.
“Jimin, please.”
Jimin yells incoherently, thrashing his entire body while Jin sits there, barely budging. How dare he talk to Jimin so familiarly. How dare he use his name when Jimin never gave it to him.
It was Taehyung who told them. Of course it was.
They know who he is. They’re here to send him to another place like the one he burnt to the ground. He’s been on the run for years and now they’ve found him.
Jimin’s thrashing stops, helplessness washing through him. He can barely see through his tears. He’s angry and ashamed and humiliated, but most of all he’s scared. How could he have let this happen? So desperate to put on a show of power, he forgot the most important rule of all—safety.
His mind goes numb. He knows what happens next. Fighting will only make it worse. That’s what they used to tell him, feeding him those words. Do as we say, and it won’t have to hurt. It took him years to realise that those words were false. It still hurt. When they poked and prodded him, it hurt.
“Don’t hurt me,” Jimin pleads. He thinks how broken his voice sounds, but his mind is in another place. It’s not Jin pinning him down but the ghost of the head scientist who worked on him. They did it all under the guise of science, but Jimin knows what they really wanted.
They wanted to use his power. His power was valuable to them. If they could use it, they could build an army powerful enough to topple nations.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” a voice answers.
Jimin knows it’s lying. He turns away from those dark eyes, resigned to the inevitable.
“Jimin, I just want to talk. You attacked me. I was just defending myself. I don’t want to hurt you.”
The words don’t mean anything. Jimin has heard them all before. Eventually, they hurt him anyway. That’s how it’s always been.
The pressure on Jimin’s chest disappears, but he barely notices it. In his mind’s eye, he relives the first time they experimented on him. The first few months, it was just assessments. They would get him to use his powers, studying how it worked and what he could do and how much control he had.
Back then, he didn’t even know he could use the darkness to move. All he knew was that he could make it go dark, and afterwards he would glow.
But they had a theory they wanted to test. So Jimin ended up in a room by himself, told to sit in front of a large screen making up most of one wall. They stuck these things to his skin— stickers, they said, for being such a good boy. Ten-year-old Jimin was glad to get stickers, even if they were plain and ugly and all the same.
But Jimin thought, maybe if he continued to do as they said, he could ask for some nice stickers too. So he sat in front of the screen, watching as it grew light, then flickered, changing to another image. He watched as it kept flickering, like out of control static, showing images he never had time to make out.
It was a light show of some kind. He didn’t know why they wanted him to watch it, but he didn’t look away, because— stickers.
But then the lights started to get brighter. It started to aggravate him, but when he tried to close his eyes, something would shock him. Every place where a sticker stuck to his skin sent a zap, and his eyes popped open on their own. When he tried to move, the same thing would happen. When he tried to look anywhere else— zap.
So Jimin stared at the screen until his heart was near thundering out his chest and his palms were sweaty and all he could think was that he wanted, needed, it all to stop.
And then it did.
All the light disappeared as he entered a familiar darkness. In there, he ran. Or at least, he tried to. But it didn’t feel like running. It felt more like floating. He thought, if he just kept floating, maybe he would finally get out of this place. Maybe he could catch a glimpse of the outside again.
There was so much space here, and though he was essentially blind, he knew exactly where he was going. One second he was in that room with the screen and the next he was in the dining hall, and then his bedroom, and then the hallway, moving so fast that his mind could hardly keep up.
This place he was in was so malleable that it was hard to get a grip. That feeling of moving suddenly turned into slipping. It was like his mind was no longer his. He could sense where he was, but he wasn’t doing anything. His body was just… moving. And it kept moving. And the darkness seemed never ending yet it was like he was going in circles.
Experiment room. Dining hall. Bedroom. Hallway. Repeat.
It was worse than the bright lights in that room.
He didn’t like the dark.
When he finally did regain sight and real sensations, it was only to feel his body burning up. He sat curled on the floor, barely aware of his surroundings, as the scientists spoke around him, talking about ‘new discovery’ and ‘teleportation’ and ‘power’.
At the time, he didn’t understand it. He just wanted to go home.
“We don’t have to talk right now,” someone says, gently stroking his hair out of his eyes. Jimin blinks, looking around the room he’s in, the four poster bed, the blue and green ceiling that he missed before.
Without him noticing, he was moved back to the bed. Jin stands beside it now, talking softly. His words are soothing, nothing like the way those scientists spoke to him, and missing the falsities he used to hear in her voice.
“You can rest. I’m sorry if I hurt you. I’m sorry you’re hurting.”
Shame makes Jimin’s cheeks burn. He’s not even sure what happened. He just felt so… vulnerable. Suddenly he was living in the past, his memories taking over his present. But for it to happen in front of an enemy… he feels completely out of sorts, and he doesn’t understand why.
They must have done something to him. It’s the only explanation.
“Do you need anything?” Jin asks. “I’m not much of a caretaker but I know a traumatic episode when I see one. Water? Food? Company?”
What is he even saying? What kind of prison is this?
Jin chuckles, seemingly to himself. “Maybe Tae was right. If not me, would you talk to him? I’ll allow it… as long as you promise not to kill him.”
Jimin doesn’t want to kill Taehyung. The thought slices through the numbness, completely unbidden. But he’s not in the right mindset to reflect on the why of it all. So he just says out loud, “I don’t want to kill him.”
Jin gives him a curious look, contemplative. “Somehow I believe you.” Jin straightens, removing his hand from Jimin’s hair. For some reason, Jimin mourns the loss of those fingers. “I’ll get him. You stay put. No breaking any more chairs, please. Those belonged to my grandmother.”
There’s a lightheartedness to Jin’s voice despite the warning words. After he leaves, Jimin finds his lips tilting upwards. He catches himself before it can become an actual smile. What the hell is he doing? This place is a prison. He has no business smiling.
Taehyung enters the room a few minutes later. He knocks before he does, then opens the door and peeks his head in. In his other hand, he holds a plate of something, and he has a water bottle in the pocket of his pants. He slips inside alone.
“Seokjinnie decided to wait outside,” Taehyung says, walking towards the bed. He lifts the plate of food. “Wanna eat?”
The sight of food is enough to have Jimin’s stomach growling. And though he knows this place is a prison, he allows himself a nod. Taehyung waits for him to sit up before handing the plate over. Jimin sets it on his lap, taking in the dry noodles on it, stir fried with vegetables and dark sauce.
“It’s just heated leftovers,” Taehyung tells him as Jimin observes it, bringing it to his nose to sniff for hints of poison. “We’re not going to hurt you. You’re safe here. Oh.” He digs the water bottle out of his pocket. “Here’s some water too.”
Jimin takes the water bottle, snapping it open with a twist. It must have just come out of a refrigerator because it’s cold. He drains more than half of this, then smacks his dry lips together. Only then does he turn to the food, grabbing the chopsticks sticking into the noodles and lifting some to his mouth.
“I’m sorry about yesterday,” Taehyung says as he chews his first bite. “I didn’t know my powers would do that to you. I just didn’t want you to run away.”
To think that Taehyung wasn’t even trying to hurt him. Jimin had fallen anyway, taken too much and let himself grow weak in front of his enemy. He should have done something different, taken his tools out of his bag and set him on fire the way an arsonist would. That’s his namesake, after all.
Instead he decided to be the phantom. He decided to run away.
“Yoongi found the picture you taped up,” Taehyung goes on. He reaches into his back pocket and holds out the picture with Namjoon and Beast. The red cross over Beast is still there, still clear. “I’m guessing you were targeting Jungkook?”
Jimin doesn’t say anything, repeating the name silently in his head. It might be useful to know it, in the future.
“Is this about the records building?” Taehyung asks suddenly.
Jimin snaps to look at him, food forgotten for a moment. “What do you know about that?”
“Not much. Jungkook was pretty tight lipped about it… but he did say something about trying to lure out the Phantom Arsonist. That’s… That’s you, right? You’re the guy who set fire to all those places and disappeared without a trace.”
Why Taehyung would expect Jimin to incriminate himself is beyond him. Jimin, of course, does not answer. He turns back to his food, taking a large bite.
“Okay. Let’s say you are him. Hypothetically. What did you want from the records building? It’s government-owned and only accessible to those with clearance, but it’s all just papers. Most of it has been digitised. If you’re really the phantom, couldn’t you have, I don’t know, accessed that information online?”
Jimin squeezes the chopsticks in his hand. “You’re kissing government ass so you should know. Not everything has been digitised. There were things in there that they don’t want anyone to know.”
“Right, that’s plausible,” Taehyung agrees right away. “So what was it? What information were you trying to find out?”
“That’s none of your business.”
Taehyung sighs. “Perhaps not. But everyone I trust thinks you’re an enemy, and I’m trying to prove them wrong. You have to give me something. That’s the only way I can help you.”
Jimin feels a rush of anger, burying him, clouding his thoughts. “If you wanted to help me, you would have let me escape.”
“I wanted to talk to you. I have so many things to say.”
“So you took me for your own selfish reasons.”
“No. No, Jiminie, I… We had so many good times back then. I thought if we talked, we might be able to… I don’t know, be friends again.”
Friends? Taehyung captured him and trapped him in this lavish prison that strips him of his powers so he could see if they could be friends? It’s a trick. A trap. It’s a way to lure Jimin in only to turn around and use him. Taehyung works for the people who ruined his life. For all Jimin knows, this is just a mind game to mess with him.
The experiments have already begun, and Taehyung is the Trojan horse sent to make him let down his walls.
There are probably cameras hidden in here, assessing him. They’re probably laughing at him. Dumb Park Jimin, letting himself be caught after only a few years of freedom.
You didn’t really think you could get away, did you?
“Jimin, what happened?” Taehyung asks, sounding desperate enough for Jimin to know it’s not genuine. None of his words are, not the fake concern, not the tone of worry. “Just talk to me. You can trust me.”
A sharp crack sounds at the other end of the room, and both sets of eyes turn to stare at it as noodles slide down the wall. A broken plate lays on the floor where Jimin threw it in a fit of rage. The action just makes it burn more. He just can’t wrap his mind around it. He doesn’t want to be here. He doesn’t want to go through this again.
“Jimin, it’s okay—”
Jimin slaps the hand that tries to reach for him, nearly bursting in anger. If he could use his powers, he would be lost in the shadows already. As it is, he’s forced to look at the hurt flashing across Taehyung’s face. How can he look like that despite what he’s doing to him? How can someone be so evil?
“I’m not your enemy,” Taehyung says to him.
The door opens then, revealing Seokjin. He stands there with a frazzled look in his eyes, but it turns to relief when he sees them both. They’re not fighting, but Jimin isn’t far from grabbing the leftovers of that broken chair and hauling it at both of them.
“Everything okay?” Seokjin asks. He takes a step forward, then looks down at the noodles by his feet. His eyes land on Jimin, eyes growing soft. “You weren’t hungry? Or was the taste just not to your liking?”
“I’m not going to fall for your tricks,” Jimin snaps. He looks around the room, trying to see where the cameras are, even though every nook and cranny is empty. He knows they’re there. He knows it. He shouts at the invisible cameras, “I’m not going to fall for your tricks! Do you hear me?!”
“Th- There’s no trick,” Taehyung says, sounding almost genuinely upset. “Jimin, I swear, no one’s trying to hurt you or trick you. We’re just—”
“Tae,” Seokjin warns when Jimin glares at Taehyung. “Maybe you should go.”
Taehyung sputters. “But—”
“It’s understandable that he doesn’t trust us. And frankly, I don’t trust him either.” He looks right at Jimin while he speaks. “I brought him to our home because you asked me to, Taehyung, but he doesn’t even trust you. What do you hope to accomplish by keeping him here?”
Jimin doesn’t understand. ‘Our’ home? What is this place?
“I don’t know,” Taehyung ends up answering. He looks distraught. “I don’t know. I just— thought I could help him. Like you did with Joonie.”
Something flickers across Seokjin’s face, but it disappears as he turns to look at Taehyung. “But it’s not the same. You know that, right?”
Taehyung’s expression hardens. “Why can’t it be?”
“Joonie wanted our help.”
Is this a cult? Jimin looks from Seokjin to Taehyung, recognising the adoration on both their faces, the trust. It looks completely out of place here. His mind keeps turning back to the words Seokjin used— ‘our home’. It just… doesn’t line up. Who is Seokjin? Is Taehyung really working for the government? If so, why did Jimin hear Namjoon’s voice? Namjoon, who’s a known villain?
Why, before Jimin passed out, did he catch a glimpse of Beast next to Taehyung? Beast, who destroyed a government building.
“Who are you?” Jimin asks, eyes on Seokjin. “What is this place?”
Seokjin turns back to him, an amused look on his face. “This is where I live. When the others can get time off from their busy busy lives, it’s where they live too. But I own the place. Daddy left me old money when he died, though ‘left’ is, perhaps, the wrong word. I took his money and his empire from him when I was eighteen. You might know my alter ego… Luna.”
Luna?!
What the fuck is a new hero doing colluding with Seoul’s most notorious gang leader? Jimin feels like his world has been rocked. He can’t help the gasp that leaves his lips.
“If I was a worse person,” Seokjin continues, “I’d have to kill you to stop you from taking this information to the people who run this city, but somehow I don’t think you will. You hate the government, don’t you?”
Taehyung gives Jimin a curious look, waiting for his answer. Precisely because they want him to answer, Jimin keeps his lips sealed.
“Well, your actions say it louder than your words ever could.” Seokjin steps over the mess of noodles on the floor, coming to stand at the foot of the bed. “I managed to get Jungkook to talk to me. He showed me the fruits of his investigation on the Phantom Arsonist. You’re after something top secret, aren’t you?”
Jimin’s lips press tighter.
“You don’t have to tell me what it is. Jungkook already has some theories. I’m sure he’ll share them with me later.”
Jungkook. Taehyung mentioned him earlier too. He’s… Beast? Jimin thinks about the business he left unfinished. Jungkook is still alive. He’s probably here. If Namjoon is here, and Jungkook was in his photo, and this place belongs to Luna, and Namjoon is Luna’s right hand man… then it would make sense.
His target is here. Jimin needs to kill him.
Seokjin tuts. “Don’t get any ideas in your head. You might be valuable to Taehyung, and intriguing to me, but I won’t hesitate to hurt you if you go after Jungkook again.”
Taehyung’s mouth falls open. “Hyung—”
“Jungkook helped you, in fact,” Seokjin barrels on. He reveals an envelope that he must have been holding behind his back. He tosses this Jimin’s way, and it lands in his lap. “Just one of the records from that building that didn’t make it to the government’s online database. He stole it all.” Seokjin huffs, sounding half amused, half annoyed. “Apparently, for you.”
Suddenly, Taehyung’s mouth turns into an ‘O’ shape. He releases a barely audible “oh”, then looks at Jimin.
Jimin can’t believe it. Beast—Jungkook—burnt down that building for him? Why? He works to open the envelope as his mind runs at lightning speed. He can’t believe someone would do that. But then… hadn’t Jungkook had a look of reverence in his eyes when Jimin almost sliced a knife across his throat?
He had expected Jimin to show up. He had wanted Jimin to show up.
Jimin removes a single sheet of paper from the envelope, taking in the words written there.
CLASSIFIED INFORMATION
Date: 25/05/1993
Meeting attendees: Giraffe, Dolphin, Hippopotamus
Transcript:
Dolphin: Hi.
Giraffe: Hello.
Hippopotamus: Everyone, take a seat. I trust we all know to move forward from here with the utmost secrecy.
Dolphin: Of course. We all know the risks of an experiment like this.
Giraffe: I would expect no less from you, [REDACTED].
Dolphin: I would hope not, seeing as most of this was my idea.
Hippopotamus: Trying to take all the credit, I see. What else is new?
Dolphin: Ha ha. Let’s just begin. I have a date to get to this evening.
Giraffe: Oh you really are working hard. Does he seem promising?
Dolphin: Very much so. I’ll update you after.
Giraffe: Please do.
Hippopotamus: As important as it is, let’s save the date talk for when it’s relevant. I have an update from [REDACTED]. Apparently, the solution is almost ready.
Giraffe: Oh, goodie!
Hippopotamus: We want to begin experimentation as soon as possible.
Dolphin: That’s very good news. Looks like we’re on track to
The page ends there. At the bottom right corner is a clear number 1, which means there are more pages to the transcript. This is… This might be exactly what Jimin has been looking for. Names might have been redacted, and it’s clear the animal names are just code names for confidentiality, but it’s still a clue, right here in his hand, and he didn’t even have to lift a finger.
“Where’s page two?” Jimin asks.
Seokjin looks smug. “I reckon with Jungkook.”
Jimin is already moving, swinging his legs off the bed. “Bring me to him.”
“Uh-uh,” Seokjin says, blocking Jimin from the exit. “How do I know you’re not going to kill him?”
Isn’t it obvious? “He has what I need.”
“And once he gives it to you, how can I trust that you won’t kill him then?”
“I’m not— I won’t—” Jimin lets out an angry breath. “How do I know you won’t kill me? I’m the one trapped in some gang leader’s place. This could still be a mind game for all I know.”
“He’s kind of right,” Taehyung offers.
Seokjin shoots him a glare, then smooths out his expression. “Perhaps some promises have to be made then. I, Kim Seokjin, promise not to kill you or reveal your identity. As long as you, Jimin, promise the following things: To refrain from killing me, Taehyung, and my four companions, and to refrain from revealing our identities as well as our connection to one another.”
It seems simple enough. “I promise,” Jimin says. “But how do I know you’ll keep your word?”
A twinkle enters Seokjin’s eyes. “We can make it official, if you want.”
“How?”
Even Taehyung is suddenly smiling. “Hyung has a really powerful voice. And I mean, really powerful.”
Seokjin chuckles, looking fondly at Taehyung. His eyes snap back to Jimin a second later. “Come on. Follow me. I’ll show you.”
🔥
The apartment is three floors. It’s the top one that they take Jimin to. He emerges up the first set of curved stairs to see a large open space decked out with a dining table near a large floor to ceiling window. There’s art on the walls, all kinds of different pieces, as well as a couple of sculptures.
It could look nice. If the colours matched or there was some kind of running theme, it would. Instead it’s a mish mash of too many colours and styles, like someone had picked these items at random and plopped them wherever there was space.
Jimin doesn’t have much time to stare. Aside from a couple of closed doors, there’s not much else to see here. He’s taken to another set of stairs, near the first, and as he climbs, he feels it. It’s like a rush of something, a thrill that buzzes along his spine. He lets out the smallest of gasps, drawing Taehyung’s attention.
Their eyes meet as Taehyung grins. “You can feel it, right? Your powers returning.”
“Yeah.”
“Your eyes… They aren’t naturally dark, are they?” Taehyung asks. There’s no malice behind the question, nothing about it that gives Jimin pause. It’s like, simply, he just wants to know.
“No,” Jimin says. He’s already sucked the light from them. It’s such a small amount that it doesn’t affect him the way it would when making the world pitch black.
“I like the natural colour.”
Taehyung said something similar once before, a long time ago. I like your eyes. Back then, the words made Jimin giggle. It was the first time anyone had ever said something like that to him. He used to think they were unnatural, but Taehyung made him feel special because of them.
“You’ve told me that before,” Jimin says now.
A wistful look enters Taehyung’s eyes. “You remember.”
Seokjin walks to one of the doors at the top of the stairs, saying, “Since this is our home, I wanted it to be a place where we wouldn’t need our powers. It’s a space for us to be normal. But I also wanted us to be able to train if we needed to. That’s what this whole floor is for. And this here…”
He opens the door.
“… is where we practise duels.”
The door opens to reveal a large room shaped like an arena, minus space for an audience. The floor is covered with sand, and against one wall are various weapons—swords, knives, guns…
“We practise all kinds of scenarios in here,” Seokjin explains. “But that’s not what we’re doing today. I just thought this room would be ideal to make our promise because it’s not cluttered with so much other stuff.”
He strides further into the room, beckoning Jimin to stand across from him in its very centre. Taehyung takes space by the door, shutting it and then sitting cross legged in front of it like a guard dog, or a spectator. The bright eyed look in his eyes tells Jimin perhaps it’s closer to the latter.
“Do you know much about me?” Seokjin asks.
Jimin tries to research all the important Supers in the country. Luna is one of them. What Seokjin said before about taking over his father’s empire at age eighteen lines up with what he knows. Rumours say Seokjin killed his father. They say he wanted his money and his followers, that he was just like his father, but worse.
“You killed your father,” Jimin says.
Seokjin huffs, amused, while Taehyung catches his breath at the edge of the room. Jimin stands his ground, staring at Seokjin challengingly. He wants to know what this man is capable of. All the rumours Jimin has heard about him is enough to warn him to be careful.
“Killed is an outrageous simplification of what happened,” Seokjin says, pausing as a twinkle enters his eyes. “But you’re not wrong.”
Jimin narrows his eyes.
“We’re not here to discuss my history with dear old dad though.” Seokjin gives him a wry smile. “Perhaps if you’re nice, I’ll give you the full rundown of what really happened later. But what I meant by my earlier question is, do you know anything about how my powers work?”
Powerful voice, Taehyung said before.
The rumours said Luna could kill you with his voice alone.
“Your power is voice based,” Jimin responds. His father used to say he was a good student. He never liked leaving any question unanswered, even those he didn’t know the answers to.
“Correct. I can use my voice to make anyone do anything. There’s a trick to guard your mind, but most people are fair game, even Supers like yourself.” Seokjin chuckles when Jimin stiffens. “But don’t worry. I’m not going to do that to you. What I will do is create a bond with you. This means that whatever we promise within that bond cannot be broken, no matter how hard you try. The only way to release the bond is through mutual agreement.”
“Can you use it to control me?” Jimin asks.
“No, it doesn’t work like that. The power does control you, as in, it stops you from, say, killing my comrades, but it only works if you personally make the promise not to kill them. I’ll make promises too, and using my power, I’ll bind us to the promises. When you decide to leave, we can come back and end the bond.”
“You could be lying. I’d be forced to live by my promises, but you could still hurt me.”
Seokjin’s smile is patient. “A bond like this doesn’t work unless both parties give something. It connects us to each other. If I tried to break my promises, you would know, and it’s the same vice versa.”
Jimin feels uneasy about that—being connected to someone else. He’s afraid Seokjin will be able to use him in some way through it, turn him into a puppet without his own mind.
“We don’t have to do this,” Seokjin says. “It’s a surefire way to make sure we stick to our promises, but we can also just shake on it. I understand how you feel, you know. You feel like an enemy amongst us. I felt like that for a long time most of my life. I’d hate to further your distrust in us with this thing you don’t understand.”
The words could be false. They could be—but somehow Jimin doesn’t believe they are.
“You’ve already promised me verbally. I’ll take your word for it if you’ll take mine.” Seokjin sounds almost… kind. Jimin is having trouble reconciling the person in front of him with what he knows about Luna. Not to mention Taehyung trusts him completely. Jimin may not trust either of them, but they seem close in a way Jimin hasn’t seen in a long time.
Maybe… Maybe the bond wouldn’t be so bad. If it protects him from being killed at the hands of Luna, then it would probably be a good thing. But—
“What about the others?” Jimin asks. “You might promise not to kill me or reveal my identity, but you could just order Stealo to do it, or someone else. And Beast… Jungkook… he already revealed who I was to authorities.”
Seokjin frowns. “That’s not like him.”
“Well I didn’t imagine the SSLO banging on my door for a random search right after Jungkook found out who I was. If he didn’t do it, then…” Jimin glares at Taehyung. “Was it you?”
Taehyung raises his hands. “No. No! I’d never do that. I’m on your side, whether you believe it or not.” He looks at Seokjin. “Do your truth telling thing on me. Let me prove it to him.”
Seokjin grimaces. “You know I hate doing that to you. But if I must.”
Taehyung is scrambling to his feet before Seokjin has even finished talking. Once beside them, he holds out a hand. Seokjin takes it. Jimin wonders if touch is a requirement for Seokjin’s power. If so, it really limits him.
“Jimin,” Seokjin says, getting his attention. “May I take your hand too? It’s so I can make sure you know he’s telling the truth and not just taking my word for it.”
“Um…” Jimin looks at Seokjin’s relaxed arm, still by his side, not at all expecting that he’ll do it. And precisely because Seokjin isn’t forcing him to do anything, he nods. “Right. Sure.”
Seokjin’s hand is warm. His long fingers curl over Jimin’s own, smaller ones. His heart gives the lightest of flutters.
“Taehyung,” Seokjin says now, and this time, Jimin hears something different in his voice. It sounds heavier, the pressure of it weighing down on not just his ears, but his whole body. Goosebumps erupt across his arms. “Tell Jimin the truth. Did you reveal his identity to the authorities?”
Taehyung blinks rapidly as he looks Jimin’s way. It’s like the three of them have entered another realm.
“No, I did not. I would never. I want Jimin back in my life. I want to help him. I want him to be happy.”
Jimin knows it’s a result of holding Seokjin’s hand that he feels the truth emanating from those words. It enters his ears and shoots straight to his heart, which pounds with the discovery that Taehyung has no ill intentions.
“I didn’t even know you were still alive,” Taehyung says, voice wavering. “You didn’t show up one day. I heard about an attack at the building where you were living, and I thought… I thought you must have been killed. But you’re…”
Jimin’s throat feels clogged. Suddenly he sees his old friend again, the one he spent hours with at the beach. The day they were meant to meet again, they hadn’t made any special plans, but Jimin used to regret not being able to show up so deeply, he couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. He thought he had destroyed that friendship. He thought he would never see him again.
Seokjin abruptly lets go of both of them, and whatever spell Taehyung was under breaks. He sucks in a sharp breath, but he doesn’t stop talking.
“I’m sorry for bringing you here without asking. I didn’t mean to make you feel trapped. I just wanted to talk to you. I really hope you’ll just… give me a chance to talk to you. Even if you decide you don’t want to be friends again, can you spare me some time to talk before you go?”
On the verge of tears as he is, Jimin can’t really answer, so he just nods stiffly, aware that Seokjin is looking at them.
Taehyung’s lips break out into a smile. “Thank you.”
Seokjin clears his throat after a moment. “Now that we have that figured out, perhaps we should bring Jungkook in to make him go through the same exercise. We want you to trust us, Jimin, and I’d like to trust you too. Even Namjoon has been vouching for you, despite you nearly burning down the club I gifted him.”
Jimin doesn’t know what to think about all of this. All he knows is that it’s an eclectic group of people who live here, and that they’re a mix of heroes and villains alike. Jungkook has information he needs, and that’s enough on its own for him to want to stay.
It doesn’t mean that he’s not curious about Namjoon’s interest, or intrigued by his own body’s reactions to handholding with Seokjin, and most of all it doesn’t mean he’s not looking forward to reconnecting with Taehyung—and maybe getting to a place where his old friend no longer feels like an enemy.
🔥
Seeing Jungkook again has Jimin seething in silent rage. Seokjin can vouch for him all he wants, but he’s sure Beast revealed something. Why the random search in the motel Jimin was staying in otherwise? He’s never encountered that before, not in all his days of committing arson.
Jungkook takes one look at his face and flinches. His mouth opens, brows furrowed apologetically. “I’m sorry if I overstepped when I burnt that building down. But I swear I had good reasons!”
He’s like a child, Jimin surmises, looking him up and down. He wears a dark red t-shirt and baggy sweats, and around his neck is a pendant that rests against his sternum. It’s in the shape of a flame, matching the red hair. Jungkook must really be into this whole fire theme. Jimin thinks it’s tackier than Taehyung’s gold costume.
Jimin grunts and doesn’t respond to Jungkook’s apology. Behind Jungkook, Taehyung slips inside the room, saying, “Jinnie needs to truth check you about whether you ran your mouth off to the SSLO about him.”
Jungkook looks wide-eyed back at Taehyung. “What?! But I didn’t! You know I hate those guys.”
“I know, but they went after Jimin right after you figured out who he was. Which, by the way, you need to tell me all about, because the Phantom Arsonist isn’t exactly easy to find, and you did it just like that.” Taehyung snaps a finger on the last word, sounding half impressed and half annoyed by Jungkook.
Jungkook looks from Taehyung to Jimin and back. “I’d rather not tell too many people, especially you, Tae. You know it’s not because I don’t trust you. It’s because—”
“I’m a hero,” Taehyung finishes for him, shoulders slumping dejectedly.
Jungkook reaches out, tapping Taehyung’s arm with a hand. “Don’t be sad.”
Taehyung shifts, and Jimin watches with a frown as Jungkook’s hand drags downwards, their hands brushing for a single moment before parting. “It’s okay,” Taehyung says. “I know what I signed up for.”
“Come,” Seokjin says, gesturing to Jungkook. “I believe you didn’t say anything about Jimin to the SSLO but he has no reason to trust you, so let’s do this quickly, okay?”
Belatedly, Jimin realises it means he’ll get to hold Seokjin’s hand again. It’s stupid that he feels a sense of excitement about it. He doesn’t even like the guy, and he fears what he can do, but when Seokjin holds out his hand, he gladly takes it.
Seokjin poses the same question to Jungkook, and the latter answers, “I did not reveal Jimin’s identity to the SSLO or any government agency. That would have made it harder for me to follow through with my plans.”
The truth settles in Jimin’s heart, but he’s too curious to leave it at that, so he takes over the questioning to ask, “What are your plans?”
“I want to uncover the ugliness in our society so that Supers and Normals alike can live in peace.”
Jimin frowns, at once endeared by Jungkook’s earnest desires, but also confused by them. “How do you intend to do that?”
Jungkook looks him in the eye. “By overthrowing our government.”
Seokjin lets go abruptly. Suddenly he’s stalking over to Taehyung, grabbing the sides of his head and saying, “I’m sorry. You know I have to.”
Taehyung nods in his hold, holding onto Seokjin’s waist. “I know. Just do it.”
In a move that leaves Jimin gawking in surprise, Seokjin kisses Taehyung, right there on the lips. It’s such a private moment, one that Jimin would never let himself be caught doing in public, yet here they are, kissing like it’s their last kiss.
When they part, Seokjin says, “Forget the last thing Jungkook said.”
There’s a moment when Seokjin uses his voice where Jimin feels actual fear. It’s different from the truth thing he did. This is… This is an order that makes the air around them thick and heavy. If the words were sent Jimin’s way, he might find himself crumbling to his knees. Instead he just watches Taehyung take it, held up by Seokjin’s hands on him.
This is private too, Jimin thinks. He shouldn’t be seeing this.
The power of Seokjin’s voice dissipates a second later, but it leaves sweat coating Jimin’s skin. He looks at Jungkook, who wears guilt all over his face.
“Does his power always feel like that?”
Jungkook’s eyes flicker towards him in surprise, like maybe he forgot he was there. “Yeah. You always know when he’s using it. The hard part is resisting it. He’s taught us all how to, but… It’s different for Taehyung and Hobi. They have to drop their mental walls sometimes. They’re heroes, you know?”
No, Jimin wants to say. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t understand who these people are and why they’re together. Is Jungkook’s plan to overthrow the government his own? Or are they all working together to do so? Is that why these heroes and villains are together? Is there a reason they’re keeping the heroes in the dark?
Hobi… Another hero? Jimin doesn’t know who that is.
Soft mutterings grab Jimin’s attention, and he watches as Seokjin kisses Taehyung once more, before waving him goodbye. Taehyung glances back only once, his smile bright and his eyes on Jimin, before he disappears out the door.
Seokjin finally turns back to them. His foot kicks at nothing on the floor, hands on his hips. He looks lost, for some reason, eyes distant. Jungkook is the one who breaks the silence, rushing up to Seokjin and crashing into him.
“I’m sorry, hyung.”
Once again, Jimin is subjected to watch as Seokjin’s hands come up to rub at Jungkook’s back, mumbling, “It’s okay. My fault, not yours. I should have had him wait outside while we spoke. My fault.”
They pull apart, but neither really close the distance between them. Jimin’s lips part when it looks like they’re going to kiss too. His heart stutters in panic, because he doesn’t want to see that again. For some reason, it makes him uneasy. He doesn’t understand. What is this? Does Seokjin pull all these people in with the power of his… kisses? Is that why Jimin liked holding his hand so much?
“Hey,” Jimin says shakily, aware how out of sorts he sounds. Seokjin and Jungkook break apart. “Just give me the files I want and I’ll be on my way. I’ll make that stupid promise and we don’t ever have to see each other again.”
Jungkook goes wide-eyed. “But I don’t want you to leave.”
So this is a prison then. “Excuse me?” Jimin says, familiar flames of anger licking at his insides.
“I mean, I want to work with you. That’s why I targeted that building. I knew you were after confidential information. It was obvious when I started putting together a map of all your targets. It made sense you would go after secret records next, so I took them to get your attention and—”
Seokjin has a hand to his forehead, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips. “Jungkook—”
Jungkook turns to Seokjin, already rambling. “What? You’re the one who said we should go after what we want, and this is what I want! I want to work with the Phantom Arsonist. I want to bring down the government so Tae and Hobi can live their lives freely like they deserve to!”
“I said do what you want, as in, buy as many things as you want and save a few people here and there if you really want to play vigilante, not destroy a government building, lure in a criminal, and decide on your own to overthrow our entire society!”
“I’m not playing at anything. I want to help people!”
“And you think changing life as we all know it will help?!”
Perhaps because Jimin is an outsider to all of this, but he can tell that that’s not anger in Seokjin’s voice. It’s fear. But Jungkook doesn’t seem to notice.
“Well it’s better than sitting around doing nothing like you! You pretend you’re all high and mighty, but what have you actually accomplished since you became kingpin of your stupid gang?”
“The fact that you think I’ve accomplished nothing just goes to show how naïve you really are. And how unfit you are to play at being hero. Stop before it’s too late.”
“Try and stop me,” Jungkook says, shooting Seokjin a glare before promptly stomping out of there. The door slams shut behind him.
Seokjin sighs audibly, obviously too preoccupied mentally to deal with Jimin. If only he knew where those files were, maybe he could steal them and book it out of there. This place is wack and he doesn’t want to be a part of it anymore. He’ll hurt Taehyung to protect himself. It’s all he knows how to do.
“Give me the files,” Jimin says then, as it occurs to him how he might still be able to get out of here.
Seokjin glances at him, frowning. “What?”
“Jungkook’s files. Give them to me. It’ll stop him from learning too much. You’re scared for him. I know you are.”
A resigned look enters Seokjin’s eyes, and Jimin thinks he’s won. But then— “No.”
The anger flares back, stronger than before. “Why not? Jungkook can’t do anything without them. He’s in over his head. You don’t know what he might find in there. It’ll get him killed.”
“Then work with him,” Seokjin says.
Jimin feels surprise cut through his anger. “You can’t be serious.”
“Or ask him for the files yourself. I’m not going to go behind his back to help you just because I’m afraid what might happen to him. I won’t break his trust like that. So if you want the files, ask him for them yourself.”
Jimin feels completely and utterly flustered. “He’s not going to give them to me!”
Seokjin smirks. “Then I suppose you’ll just have to work with him to get what you want.”
“I don’t have the same objectives as him!” Jimin argues, anger clouding his judgement as the words spill from his lips. “I don’t think I’m some vigilante and I don’t care about helping people! I just want—”
To kill her.
Sometimes. Sometimes Jimin pretends he has some grand plan behind all his schemes, like he’s some great, special person who will bring justice to all those who were wronged. But he’s not like that. When it comes down to it, the thing fuelling him is the thought that one day, he might see her neck snapped beneath his fingers.
“What?” Seokjin asks now. “What do you want?”
Jimin clams up, realising his mistake. “It’s none of your business.”
After feeling the side effects of Seokjin using his power near him, he knows the Super isn’t using it now. But it still makes Jimin uneasy to know just how close he had been to revealing everything.
He doesn’t want anyone to know. This is his sole mission in life—to avenge his father and the life she stole from him. He doesn’t care what happens after. Society can burn for all he cares. As long as she dies.
As long as she dies by his hand.
“Well,” Seokjin says, seemingly unbothered. “You know your options. Stay, don’t stay, as long as you agree to exchange mutual promises with me, I don’t care what you do. If you can convince Jungkook to step off his war path, even better, but he’s a stubborn one, so I doubt it.”
Right. The whole reason they’re in this room is because of those promises. Now that Seokjin has brought it up again, Jimin wonders if that means they’ll have to hold hands again. Why his heart races at the prospect, he’s not sure. It must be Seokjin’s handsomeness messing with him—and the fact he knows what he looks like when he kisses.
Jimin clears his throat, shaking the image from his mind.
“Let’s just get this promise over with,” Jimin says.
“You sure you want to make it official? You wouldn’t rather shake on it?”
“I’m not scared of sharing a bond with you if that’s what you’re asking,” Jimin says sharply. “Besides, I want to make sure you stay in line with your promises. You don’t exactly come off as trustworthy to me.”
Seokjin sniffs, but he seems more amused than anything. “My companions would disagree.”
That’s because you kiss them nicely.
The thought is errant. Jimin hates that he thinks it at all. But he knows Seokjin almost kissed Jungkook, and while he’s not sure the nature of his relationship with the people Jimin has heard about, he wouldn’t put it past Luna to lure them all in with kisses—and more.
Obviously, Seokjin’s companions all trust him, but Jimin doesn’t trust him one bit.
So an official promise it is.
Seokjin strides up to him as Jimin asks, “Does doing this require… hand holding?”
“Touch is never required to make my power work,” Seokjin says, and Jimin tries to mask his disappointment. “But I like to do it anyway. It helps me focus, keeps me grounded and links me to you more easily. We can do without if you would prefer.”
Jimin racks his brain for something to say that doesn’t make him seem so eager. He ends up shrugging in feigned indifference. “We can. I don’t care. If it helps, then it doesn’t bother me.”
He lifts his palms, then realises that Seokjin never said he would have to hold both. But before he can think of how to talk his way out of this, Seokjin takes both hands, flashing him a kind smile and a quick “thanks”.
“I’ll talk you through your promises. If you want me to change the wording of anything, just let me know, okay?”
Jimin nods, too focused on the gentle way Seokjin holds him to vocalise his answer. His mind returns to less than an hour ago, when Seokjin brushed his hair back as if he actually cared about Jimin’s wellbeing. Just the thought has his heart feeling fond.
If he didn’t know what Seokjin’s power felt like, he would think he was being manipulated.
“I’ll begin now,” Seokjin tells him.
The pressure Jimin felt earlier returns, but it’s not quite so knee buckling. It’s more like… being wrapped up in invisible arms. Walls that Jimin never knew existed suddenly come down, and he feels more than sees the shimmer of Seokjin’s mind, beckoning him closer. He wavers on the edges, afraid.
“Our minds have to touch for this to work. You have to trust me, Jimin. I can’t make you do anything you don’t want to do in this state.”
Jimin rambles, his fear making it hard to listen. “But the basis of your power is mind control—”
“No it’s not,” Seokjin cuts in. “The basis of my power is trust.”
“But I don’t trust you.”
“No, you don’t. But I’m asking you to right now. I won’t hurt you. We’re just exchanging a few promises, and then I’ll let you go.”
Jimin wants to argue a lot of things, like the fact that he saw Seokjin perform mind control on Taehyung only minutes ago, and the fact that he isn’t imagining the rumours he’s heard about Luna and his voice. But… But Seokjin has no reason to control him. These promises would mutually benefit them both.
So why not trust him? At least for a very short while, so Seokjin can put this bond into place?
He shuts his eyes, imagining crawling forward bit by bit, until his mind is being flooded with warmth, as if sun rays are shining down on him. His eyes snap open. This time when he looks at Seokjin, it’s like he can feel him. He can’t read his mind, but he understands his intentions.
He understands that there’s not a single evil bone in this Super’s body. And yet… And yet there’s something else lurking there, a sense of possessiveness that Jimin is surprised to feel. He thinks instinctively that it means that Seokjin will do anything to protect those he loves.
Because he’s so entranced by what he’s feeling, it takes him a moment to realise Seokjin has begun talking.
“I, Kim Seokjin, promise not to hurt you, not to kill you, and not to hold you captive. I promise not to reveal your identity to anyone but my most trusted companions, most of whom you have already met. In return, will you promise not to harm or kill me or my companions?”
Jimin blinks rapidly. He feels like he’s floating, Seokjin’s words solidifying inside him. “Yes,” he says. “I promise.”
His own words feel heavy, powerful.
“And do you promise not to reveal my identity as well as those of my companions?”
“Yes. I promise.”
“Lastly, do you promise not to reveal the connection I share with them?”
“I promise,” Jimin says.
“Then it’s done.” Seokjin pulls the force of his power back, and his warmth disappears with it. Jimin feels cold afterwards, like someone has just stripped him bare.
And yet, in the back of his mind, he can feel it—the telltale sign of something foreign that wasn’t there before. He prods at it, but he can’t touch it. It just… exists. He wonders if Seokjin can feel the same thing.
“You’ll forget it’s there in a few hours,” Seokjin says. “It’s only if one of us tries to break a promise that it’ll kick into gear again. But your brain will get used to it.”
Seokjin squeezes Jimin’s hands reassuringly, and Jimin realises then that they’re still holding hands. In fact, Jimin has an iron grip on him, like he never intends to let him go. Embarrassed, he snaps his hands back, crossing his arms.
“Cool. Whatever.”
“For assurances, I can make all my companions make official promises about you with me.”
“It would only be fair,” Jimin says coolly, nonchalantly.
Seokjin seems to see through him, his smile more than amused. “Okay then. I’ll arrange it with those still around. For now, you’re free to stay at our humble abode for as long as you’d like. It’s not often we allow guests, but there’s something about you. Half my companions are smitten with you already.”
“I’ve barely spoken to any of them.”
Jimin doesn’t know what he’s arguing against. Is he embarrassed that so many of them want to get to know him? Is he defending against some unspoken accusation that he did something to make them smitten in the first place? Or is it something else entirely?
“We’re easily smitten when the right person comes along,” Seokjin says easily.
Jimin can’t help himself. He blushes.
Is Seokjin implying that he’s smitten with him too?
The gang leader wears a wide grin. He must be messing with Jimin. It’s the only explanation.
“If you do decide to stay, I’ll let you in on the secret name of our abode,” Seokjin says, coming up beside him to throw an arm across his shoulders, guiding him to the door. His voice drops a few decibels. “It’s called Bangtan.”
Jimin frowns. “Why? Is the place bulletproof?”
“It is, but the most important part is that so are we.”
“We?”
“Together, the six of us. We’re bulletproof together. With you, that makes seven.”
They start to head down the stairs, and each step takes a bit of Jimin’s power away, until he no longer has access to it. His eyes must have returned to their normal colour again, but he’s not thinking about that. He’s too focused on what Seokjin is telling him.
“I haven’t even said I’ll stay.”
“No, you haven’t. What’ll it be then?”
Jimin thinks how Jungkook lives here and has all the information he’s been looking for. He thinks about the talk he promised to have with Taehyung, and how Namjoon has shown interest in his body. He thinks about Seokjin’s warm, soft hands, and the last two companions he has yet to meet.
Not to mention that the place is bulletproof. High above the city. Safe.
He’s safe here, at least for a little while.
Without answering Seokjin directly, he just says, “I’ll need to pick up a few things. And I want my fire weapons back.”
Seokjin looks positively ecstatic. “Anything you want.”
He walks Jimin to one of the doors on the second level and twists the knob, shoving the door open like some kind of ritual.
“Welcome to Bangtan, Jimin.”
Chapter 3
Notes:
look at me with another new chapter already! :D i really want to have a once-a-week posting schedule and with how fast i've been writing this, i think i may be on track to doing that. if i end up slowing down, i'll probably post once every two weeks instead, but we'll see. i know pretty well how i want the rest of this fic to go so it's just a matter of finding time to write it all. anywayyyy, i hope you enjoy the chapter :]
🔥🔥🔥
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Three minutes and twenty-six seconds.
Jimin’s nighttime routine began like any other. He splashed water across his face, monotonously brushing his teeth in a habit formed by gentle coaxing from his dad and the knowledge that his breath would stink worse in the morning if he didn’t. A crash outside drew his attention, and he peeked out the door to see his father picking up the pieces of a broken glass from the floor.
Deciding he wasn’t needed, he finished cleaning his teeth and spat in the sink. By the time he was done, Dad had already cleaned it all up and gone back to whatever he was writing on his desk. Jimin slipped into bed, pulling a rough motel blanket over himself. He wished he had his iPod. Music always helped him fall asleep.
Just as he closed his eyes, he heard a sharp, “Jimin!” followed by muttering that sounded like “can’t believe I almost forgot!”
Jimin opened his eyes in confusion, only to see his dad walking up to him with a smile. “I know you’ve been looking everywhere for it, but I figured a seagull or something must’ve taken it from you since it still hasn’t turned up.”
“A seagull?”
Dad shook his head, chuckling. Then he set a small package on Jimin’s lap. “Happy early birthday, son.”
It wasn’t his birthday for another month, but Jimin could only think of one thing—he had a present! So he ripped into the package with a large smile, only for it to grow even larger when he saw what was inside.
It was a brand new iPod with a set of earphones, nearly identical to his old one, except it was clean and new and still had plastic wrapping around it. Dad must have just bought it for him at the store.
Vibrating with excitement, he threw his arms around his dad’s neck, saying, “Thank you! Thank you!”
Dad hugged him back. “Before you sleep, do you want to put all your favourite songs back on there?”
Jimin nodded vigorously. “Yes!”
They huddled around Dad’s computer, and Jimin watched him connect the iPod with a white cable. The songs were arranged by band name, and Jimin read the top one as the music began to sync. It was AC/DC, who his dad loved and, subsequently, he loved too.
As the first song synced, a loud and fast whoosh noise from outside drew their attention. Both Jimin and his dad glanced out the window. There was nothing there. But then—
It came again, louder—closer.
Jimin’s dad disconnected the iPod suddenly, shoving it in Jimin’s small, chubby hands. “Take this and go into the closet for me.”
Jimin glanced at the screen of the computer, disappointed because it looked like only one song had synced so far. “But—”
“Now, Jimin!”
Scrambling to his feet, he did as told. His dad was right behind him, rearranging his shirts and coats inside so Jimin was well covered behind them. Then he said, “No matter what you hear, don’t come outside.”
He glanced down at Jimin’s hands. Reaching down, he patted the iPod he was still holding, giving him a soft smile.
“Listen to this while you wait. I’ll come get you soon.”
The song that had downloaded was AC/DC’s Highway to Hell. It was three minutes and twenty-six seconds long. Three minutes and twenty-six seconds too long.
Because if he had just never played the song in the first place, he might have been able to prevent the sound of his dad’s dying screams.
🔥
Jimin isn’t used to waking up in a bed as soft as this. He’s used to two pillows tops in lieu of the ten that come with this bed—most have ended up on the floor—and he’s used to a thin sheet at best instead of three separate layers of blankets. Not to mention the ornate wood the bed post is made out of, or the fancy lights on the wall that don’t just turn on and off but have a dimming function too.
Everything here is too nice.
He hates it.
Pushing himself out of bed, he takes a moment to open the blinds. It’s a grey morning today, with promises of rain. That’s just fine with him, seeing as he plans to spend the day trawling through confidential records with Jungkook.
He grimaces. Yesterday he spent the better part of an hour trying to convince Jungkook to hand them all over, but he wouldn’t budge. Seokjin was right. He’s stubborn. Afterwards, Jimin tried to ransack Jungkook’s room in a desperate search for them, only to be caught within minutes and kicked out.
Wherever those records are, Jungkook has them well hidden.
So far, Jimin hasn’t seen the others. Taehyung hasn’t returned from fighting crime in the city. Namjoon must have left sometime before Jimin was done in the duelling room with Seokjin. The other two he has yet to properly meet didn’t come back last night either, so it’s just been Jimin, Seokjin and Jungkook. And with both of them angry at each other, dinner last night had been… interesting.
“The silent treatment again, Kookie? You know it never lasts long. You may as well give it up now.”
“I refuse to talk to you.”
“So you say, while talking to me.”
Jimin chortled at that one, then shut up when both of them turned to him, Seokjin with amusement and Jungkook with a glare. He chose to stay quiet after that.
After dinner, Jimin watched Seokjin follow Jungkook to one of the rooms down another hallway where everyone’s bedrooms are located. He didn’t stay to figure out just what they might be talking about—or if they were talking at all.
Tense dinners and bad dreams aside, it’s a new day. He may have lost control over those records but he intends to make the most of what he has. He can continue his investigation from here, come and go as he pleases, and figure out just what it is about this strange villain-hero-boyfriends conglomerate that has his curiosity at full capacity.
If anyone asks, that last one is low, low, low on his list of priorities.
Not that anyone will ask.
(To his relief.)
Jimin walks to the closet once light is filtering into the room through the window, picking out something to wear. Then he makes his way upstairs, a pair of hand wraps and gloves in hand. Seokjin said he could use the rooms on the third floor, so that’s where he heads, opening every door until he finds exactly what he’s looking for—a gym.
There are multiple punching bags, weights, yoga mats and other gym equipment. This will do very well. He may hate that he has to stay here, but he can’t discount how convenient it is. Not to mention the fact that, somehow, the SSLO knows he’s in Seoul. This makes for a good hideout while he gathers information.
He begins the process of wrapping his hands. A few minutes later, he’s working up a sweat against a gym bag. It always brings up memories of his first lessons learning the art of fighting, how his dad taught him to stand with his feet apart, and how to protect his face. He used to come away from each lesson with bruises.
The door to the gym opens, and he pauses to see someone in a hoodie walk in. Whoever it is doesn’t seem to notice Jimin there at first. He just sets a towel and a water bottle down before heading to the weights along one wall, picking out a couple.
Jimin doesn’t think that body belongs to Seokjin, Jungkook or Namjoon, and it definitely doesn’t belong to Taehyung… which means it’s one of the other two. He knows one of them is a hero. He wonders which one this is.
Too curious for his own good, he clears his throat, and the guy snaps towards him, startling. Beneath the hood, Jimin spies unruly hair and a pale face, small, slightly shocked eyes peering his way.
Jimin immediately recognises him. Of course. Why he didn’t make the connection before, he’s not sure, but hadn’t Taehyung mentioned a ‘Yoongi’ before? And he had found a Yoongi sleeping in Namjoon’s club, so of course.
But he’s not the other hero of the group. As far as Jimin can tell, Yoongi is the only normal one of the group—and by normal, he means powerless.
Yoongi grunts as his expression turns from surprise to recognition. “Didn’t realise someone was already here. Usually I’m the only morning gym goer. I hope you’re not here to burn the place down?”
“I only burn down places of importance,” Jimin says.
“Of course you do.”
There’s an edge of judgement in the way Yoongi says that which Jimin chooses not to be riled up by. He only has to put up with Seokjin’s companions for a little while. As soon as he has the information he needs, he’s out of here.
Jimin turns to the punching bag, picking up where he left off while Yoongi begins to stretch, hood still on. When his arms have had enough, he checks out the other equipment, spying a treadmill and deciding perhaps a run is in order. It’s been a while since he ran—running inside his phantom dome doesn’t count; it’s more of a mental strain than a physical one.
Half an hour later, he slows the treadmill to a walk, parched but lacking water. Seokjin showed him where the kitchen is, so he knows where to go to get it. He wishes he had thought ahead to bring a towel with him. His face is drenched, his hair sticking to him uncomfortably.
Yoongi seems to be getting ready to leave too, his hood finally pushed off his head. He looks like he didn’t work up a sweat at all. Must not have worked very hard.
Jimin catches him by the door, a question slipping out before he can stop it. “What’s a non-Super doing with a bunch of Supers?”
Yoongi chuckles, his smirk bordering on condescending. “You think I’m not a Super?”
“Supers don’t usually have regular jobs,” Jimin says. “Unless their powers are useless.”
“I’ll let you decide whether my powers are useless.”
They’re standing just outside the gym, and as Jimin turns to look at Yoongi, his footsteps halt. Suddenly he feels like he’s falling down a pit of unwanted emotions, his heart racing, his mouth watering, and every inch of Yoongi’s face looks positively… delectable. His lips part in surprise.
An irrational part of his brain suddenly wants to kiss him. Could he? Kiss him?
All at once, the feeling disappears, leaving Jimin gasping, his heart screeching to a stop. Only cold remains, making him feel empty where he was just full.
“You should work on your mental defences,” Yoongi says. The downturn of his lips tells Jimin he’s disappointed in what he sees. “Don’t want ‘non-Supers’ like me making you feel things you don’t want to feel.”
He walks away after that, leaving Jimin humiliated down to his toes. Yoongi is a Super, he realises. He has a mind-based power, similar to Seokjin but focused on emotions. But unlike Seokjin’s, it’s softer, barely noticeable. One of those powers Jimin is sure the government would kill to get their hands on.
So why isn’t he a hero? The Super programme in the country should have picked him out unless his parents hid him. Some do, not wanting to give their children up to the gifted programmes they then have to go through, their entire lives laid out for them. But most parents go through it because they receive rewards in return. It’s considered an honour if your child is picked out to become a hero.
Jimin never experienced that though. What he went through was something entirely different. He doesn’t know the reasons behind it. All he knows is that some children weren’t so lucky. Some were put in an illegal programme and experimented on, to the extent that a few went insane and had to be put down.
Not that that matters anymore. None of them are alive to tell the tale—except him. All that matters is he gets back at the person who put him there in the first place.
Jimin shakes himself out of his stupor. It doesn’t matter how or why Yoongi poses as a music producer with such a strong power hidden. In the end, it doesn’t concern him. He has other things to take care of.
It’s about time he seek Jungkook out to do just that.
🔥
On the middle floor of the apartment are the rooms where the people of Bangtan stay. Jimin ventures down it after showering, stopping at the first door on the right and banging his fist on it without pause until a voice from inside shouts at him to stop.
Jungkook sounds tired. He must have been asleep. Jimin crosses his arms, hip cocked to one side as he waits for him to get the door. He’s not a patient person and Jungkook’s incredible stubbornness has just made it worse.
When a minute passes with only the sounds of movement inside, Jimin bangs on the door again. “I want those files! Now!”
“Give me a second! Jeez! I’m not even dressed yet!”
An entirely unstoppable image of a naked Jungkook being jolted awake enters his mind. Underneath all that red he wears, Jimin wonders if there are muscles worth peeking at. He’s not going to open the door though. He’s not perverted like that. But… it’s not an issue if his imagination gets carried away. Nobody has to know.
Jimin just bangs on the door again. “If you gave me the files, this wouldn’t be a problem!”
“I’m not giving you those files!”
Jungkook opens the door then, his hair sticking up in odd places. His shirt is inside out and he only has a pair of shorts on. He glares at Jimin when he sees him, his lips downturned in a pout. It gives Jimin a bit too much glee to see the young man suffer. Besides, it’s his own fault for hiding those files in the first place.
“Well good morning, sunshine,” Jimin says, then pushes past Jungkook into the room. “Where are the rest of the records? I don’t have all the time in the world to wait around for you to be ready to read them.”
The room is a mess. Granted, part of it is Jimin’s fault. Yesterday, he found his way in here when Jungkook was cooking in the kitchen. He proceeded to open as many drawers as he could in a desperate effort to find those files, only for Jungkook to catch him before he could.
“Have you never heard of privacy?” Jungkook asks, spinning around to face him. “This is my private space. You should respect that.”
“You signed up for this when you stole those files from me.”
“I stole the files from the government, so they’re mine fair and square.”
“Oh, is that how it works?”
“That’s how it works.”
They’re standing only a few inches away from each other. Every time Jimin speaks to Jungkook, he gets angry. The kid has a knack for bringing it out of him. He’ll be glad to be rid of him the most out of everyone he’s met.
“What do you hope to accomplish by keeping those files from me?”
“I hope we’ll become partners who work together and share information.”
“Share?” Jimin exclaims, unable to contain the rising rage. “So far, you’ve shared a single page with me with barely anything of importance on it!”
“I’ll share more when I’m ready.”
“This is bullshit. You may as well tell me you don’t have anything else.”
“I’d be lying then, dumbass.”
“You’re really testing my patience.”
“Can’t test something that’s not there,” Jungkook spits, looking like a petulant child who never learned any manners. Jimin spent years confined in an institution, and even he has more manners than this.
So in a fit of mirrored childishness, he says, “That’s it. I’m out. You obviously have nothing and have been bluffing this whole time. You’re lucky Seokjin made me make those promises, because I’d fucking rip you to shreds for thinking you could play this stupid game with me.”
Jungkook’s eyes grow wide, his petulance disappearing. “It’s not a game!”
Jimin doesn’t stay to hear his argument. He stalks away to head to his room, where he grabs his duffel bags and promptly begins stuffing them with all of his things. Screw this. Screw Jungkook. He knew it was too good to be true.
Fucking Beast. He should have killed him when he had the chance. As he gathers all of his belongings, he imagines how he would do it. Slicing his throat was too simple. He never should have tried that in the first place. No, he would burn him. It would be appropriate, considering Jungkook’s powers.
And entirely doable in this apartment that strips Jungkook of his powers. Jimin itches to grab the tools that were returned to him the day before. He could use a flamethrower. Or make Jungkook ingest one of his fire gummies, burning him from the inside out. Or he could go old school, tie him to a stake and torch him alive.
The possibilities are endless.
But Jimin regrettably has to pack all his tools away. He can’t do anything to Jungkook. He probably can’t so much as give him a paper cut without the promise made to Seokjin stopping him.
When he’s finished, he stomps up the stairs taking two steps at a time, only to see Jungkook racing towards him with a folder in his hand. Jimin pretends to not be interested. That’s not what he thinks it is… right? Because Jungkook must be bluffing. Why only bring it to him now that he’s threatening to leave?
“Look,” Jungkook says, stopping directly in his path to the front door. He holds up the folder. “See? Here’s the rest of that record you saw. It’s fifteen pages of transcript from some secret meeting about ‘redacted’. You can read all about it right here. Don’t go.”
Jimin glares at him. “For all I know, you just made it all up in this game you’re playing to get me to stay.”
“I’m not! I swear. There’s no game.”
“I don’t trust you,” Jimin says, then stalks past Jungkook, knocking into his shoulder angrily on the way.
He knows he shouldn’t leave. A small, rational part of him is screaming at him to turn around and take that file. But the annoyed part of him, the one with zero patience and a desire to see Jungkook’s expression fall, is much larger and more convincing right now. He wants Jungkook to suffer in whatever way he can.
No, more than that, he wants Jungkook to beg him to stay. To turn this power game on its head so Jimin holds all of it, and Jungkook holds none. It would be easy, wouldn’t it? Jungkook is a nobody playing at being a ‘vigilante’, as Seokjin put it. Neither hero nor villain, he teeters the line between the two.
Jimin doesn’t know his history. He barely knows what his powers are except that he has claws and conjures fire. But none of that matters. The one thing Jimin does know is that Jungkook desperately wants to work with him.
“Dolphin:” Jungkook says. Jimin falters by the front door. “‘That’s very good news. Looks like we’re on track to creating the ultimate weapon against our enemies. I better step up my game.’ Giraffe: ‘This entire thing would have been impossible without you. I hope you know that.’ Dolphin: ‘Oh please. We’re all only doing our best.’”
It’s the transcript. Jungkook is reading the transcript out loud.
“Hippopotamus: ‘I still think you’re insane for going through with this’. Giraffe: ‘Don’t put [REDACTED] down. [REDACTED] is braver than you’ll ever be’. Dolphin: ‘Thank you. Maybe I should be dating you’. Giraffe: ‘I hope you don’t take it the wrong way when I say I’m not interested’.”
“You wrote that out yourself,” Jimin says, unable to believe that this is what these unknown people would be talking about.
“Shall I continue and prove you wrong?”
Jimin tugs his lower lip into his mouth, then says, “Just keep reading.”
He swears he can hear the smile in Jungkook’s voice. “Hippopotamus: ‘Let’s get back on track, shall we? The sale for [REDACTED] went through, and it’s our job to figure out its design. Any ideas?’ Dolphin: ‘Let’s list all the essentials first. What are necessary things for survival? Food, water, shelter. Honestly, with those three, it doesn’t really matter what the rest of it looks like’.
“Giraffe: ‘You do know … will be there indefinitely? And you only want the bare essentials?’ Dolphin: ‘Don’t judge me. … won’t really [REDACTED] and all of us know that. Make it cold. Bare. Identical rooms with sharp angles. Locks on all the doors. A single common room in the centre’. Giraffe: ‘Jeez. You really don’t play, do you?’ Hippopotamus: ‘I think it’s genius. If they never know comfort, they’ll never desire it.’”
Jimin doesn’t know when he flattened his hand on the door in front of him. All he knows is that he’s trembling, barely able to understand everything being said and yet knowing, deep down, just what’s being discussed.
Cold. Bare. Identical rooms with sharp angles. Locks on all the doors. A single common room in the centre.
It could be anywhere, and yet it can only be one place. These people are discussing the prison he was kept in, where he was experimented on like a lab rat. He escaped years ago, and yet some days it’s like he never left.
“Do you know what they’re talking about?” Jungkook asks.
This was meant to be a solo journey. Jimin was the only one who escaped, and therefore he’s the only one still suffering while the woman who brought him there hides somewhere he can’t see. Whatever happened back then is none of anyone’s business. This is why Jimin wanted the files. It’s why he hates that Jungkook got to them first.
Spinning around, he stalks to Jungkook, letting his anger squash his terror. “That’s enough. I’ll read the rest now. Alone.”
He holds out his hand. After a moment, Jungkook sets the file there, looking stunned when Jimin snatches it and leaves him, heading straight for his room.
And it’s not even his room, is it? Yet those are the words his brain supplies, even though only minutes ago he was ready to leave. Though… maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he expected this. Maybe he thought that by twisting Jungkook’s arm, he would get another peek at these important files that should hold a clue to her whereabouts, and answers to why what happened had to happen at all.
But, perhaps, underneath it all, he didn’t want to leave.
Because as soon as he’s locked up in the room on the bed, he feels a sense of relief that he didn’t have to, that Jungkook forced him to stay. But he ignores those thoughts. Right now, this file is more important.
He ends up reading it all again and again, searching for any clue at all. All they talk about for the next thirteen pages, though, is the building and the things they want to include and whether staff will live there onsite and whether they should offer things like coffee and tea.
The answer is no, and Jimin knows this before he reads it because he never tasted coffee until the day he escaped, and he only ever smelt it when his father would have a cup of the stuff every morning.
A knock at the door has him finally prying his eyes away from the words. He doesn’t know how long has passed, but bright daylight is streaming into the room and his stomach feels emptier than usual.
“Come in,” he calls after a moment, still feeling unused to sharing a living space with anyone.
Jungkook pokes his head in, eyeing the papers scattered on the bed in front of him. “Hey. Um… how’s it going?”
“Fine.” Jimin begins to put the sheets back together. The pages are numbered so it’s not a hard task. He straightens the pages and then returns it back to its file. Meanwhile, Jungkook slips all the way into the room, revealing a small stack of files in his arms. Jimin opens his mouth.
“Before you say anything,” Jungkook interrupts, “I just wanted to tell you I’ve realised the error of my ways. I get that this is important to you, and it’s important to me too. Can we just… work together nicely?”
Jimin can still sense a bit of obstinance, but maybe it exists on both sides. At least Jungkook was willing to apologise, though he never actually said the word sorry. But all those files in his hands are enticing. Jimin reckons he brought them here on purpose, to soften him up.
“Whatever,” Jimin says. He doesn’t have to make space for Jungkook on the bed. If the room had a proper desk, he would have moved there, but it doesn’t, so he just pats the space beside him, annoyed about the situation but too eager to continue the investigation to care.
Jungkook immediately slides onto the bed, this impossibly large grin on his face. He’s a child playing in an adult’s world, and one day that will get him killed. If not by Jimin, then by someone else.
He should have known, honestly. When he first saw Jungkook at that bar, he remembers thinking Jungkook seemed a little out of place, like he was trying too hard to fit in. He’s just not villainous enough to be a villain, despite burning down a building. The fact that he did it for Jimin speaks to his unselfish ways.
But he’s not good either. For Supers like him, there isn’t really a place in this world. He should have gotten a normal job. If he was never in a hero’s programme, then he could have, like his friend Min Yoongi.
“What?” Jungkook asks, and Jimin realises he’s been staring at him for too long.
“Nothing. Give me a file.”
Jungkook does as told, then sets the rest down as he watches Jimin unearth the papers inside. He then proceeds to read over his shoulder. Jimin didn’t realise they were going to be reading together, at the same time. He feels uncomfortable having someone so close to him, practically breathing down his neck, eyes raking over words that should have been Jimin’s alone.
“I’m hungry,” Jimin says, turning to look at Jungkook.
Jungkook just blinks back. “Do you want to eat something?”
“That would be great. Thanks.”
When Jungkook doesn’t make a move, Jimin jerks his head to the doorway, telling him silently what he wants. Jungkook scoffs, realisation entering his eyes. “I’m not getting food for you. In Bangtan, we fend for ourselves.”
“You cooked for us last night,” Jimin argues.
“That was different.”
“I don’t see how.”
Jungkook huffs, glaring at him. “It just is.”
“For someone who wants so badly to work with me, you’re really proving yourself to be a terrible partner.” Jimin leans back in the bed against the exorbitant amount of pillows behind him, papers still in hand. He crosses one ankle over the other pointedly. “How about I do you a favour in return? You get me food, and I’ll summarise the transcript for you when you get back.”
“Fine,” Jungkook says, surprising him. He jumps off the bed, then proceeds to grab the remaining files. “But I’m taking the rest of the files with me. If we’re really partners, we should read them together.”
Jimin hates him. He hates him, hates him, hates him. “Whatever. You’re such a child.”
“So are you,” Jungkook barks back, leaving the room right after.
Jimin bristles, but the irritation fades as he remembers the papers in his hand. Settling back, he scans the page. There are more animal code names on this one. It’s dated almost exactly one week after the previous transcript. Giraffe and Hippopotamus are a part of this one too, but Dolphin seems to be missing.
Jimin begins to read, ingesting every word as if it’s oxygen. The transcript is far longer than the last one, almost forty pages of nonstop talking, and yet they don’t seem to say very much at all. Half the words are redacted and the other half don’t make much sense on their own. He gets the gist though.
They’re embarking on a costly project, one that they cannot afford to fail. Jimin concludes that they’re talking about the illegal experimentations in the facility where he was held, although those words are never said outright.
Maybe there will be more answers in the other records, something about why they had to do it at all. To this day, he doesn’t know. The experiments they performed, the blood they drew, the liquids they injected him with—he has no idea what they had planned as his endgame. If he hadn’t escaped, what might they have done?
Jungkook returns with a tray, an array of foods on it. He sets this on the bed, surprisingly gentle, and then grabs the files that he had carried under an arm. “Well?” he asks. “What did the transcript say?”
“It was bullshit,” Jimin tells him, before sitting up to eat. “Give me another.”
It’s clear that Jungkook is furious, and if he could use his powers right now, he would probably ignite in flames. Jimin’s in luck then. He smiles sickly sweet.
“Come now, Beast. I thought you wanted to work together?”
Jungkook settles himself back on the bed with a huff, grabbing the papers that Jimin just read, obviously determined to read it himself instead of taking Jimin’s word for it. “I hate you,” he mumbles Jimin’s way.
Jimin smoothly swipes a file from the pile on the bed. “Believe me, the feeling’s mutual.”
🔥
They spend a long time discussing the details of Jimin’s prison. From budgets to what colour the walls should be to how they should ensure absolute discretion from the staff, they cover everything. A part of Jimin is fascinated by the thought that went into all of this.
Another part of him wants to be sick, especially when they mention the word ‘subjects’. They don’t say it often, but it comes up enough times that even Jungkook asks him, “What subjects? What is this place?”
Jimin just says, “Dunno.”
He has never spoken to another soul about what he went through in there, and that isn’t going to change now. By the time they finish all the files Jungkook brought with him, they haven’t learned much at all. Jimin is nowhere closer to discovering where she is.
But she’s in here. Even though he doesn’t know which one she is, he feels it. She’s one of these names; Fish, Buffalo, Giraffe, Dolphin, Bird, Cat… She must be.
“I want to show you something,” Jungkook says as he helps re-organise all the papers. They sat an entire person’s width apart from each other, even when they read the same file, and Jimin is glad for it. Both of them have a penchant for fire, and he’s sure their close proximity would just cause them to burn more than they already have.
But when Jungkook says that, Jimin perks up, instinctively leaning closer. “More files?”
“No. You’ll see.”
They leave the files that they’ve read in Jimin’s room. At least Jungkook has the courtesy to do that, even though he’s still hiding the rest of them. Jimin trails behind him as they head upstairs. It’s early afternoon right now, bathing the entire apartment in warm, natural light. If Jimin wasn’t so preoccupied with his goal, he would take a moment to appreciate it.
The view from here is pretty.
“In my room,” Jungkook says, about to walk down the hallway towards it when the front door clicks.
They both pause at the sound. Jimin frowns, suddenly uneasy. He feels like a cornered rat, powerless with nowhere to escape to. Like that day on the roof, where Taehyung held him captive with his powers as easily as he breathed air.
His fears are warranted, Jimin learns. Because as soon as the door swings open, he’s met with the familiar black and white checkered jumpsuit of one of this city’s strongest—and most annoying—heroes. On top of his head, he wears a black hat, bunny-like ears drooped to the side in a way that kids like to call cute.
There are dolls of him in stores, as if he isn’t responsible for once creating a pocket of blistering heat in the midst of winter to catch a bad guy. A passerby caught a photo of the blisters that appeared on that face, and it hadn’t been pretty.
Despite it all, they call him Hope.
Jimin always runs if he knows Hope is coming. But now Hope has seen his face, and Jimin all but forgets the fact that he’s powerless as panic grips him. He just knows he has to scare him, and then he needs to run. If he makes it out the door, his powers will return, and he’ll be safe then.
Hope can’t do anything to him in the darkness.
Jimin rushes at him. He doesn’t let himself hesitate, even when Hope blinks at him with confusion, taking a step back. That’s better. That means Jimin has the upper hand. That means his attack will surprise Hope, enough to give him time to leave. Just a fist to the face. That’s all Jimin intends to do.
He hears, barely, a voice calling out to him from behind, “Jimin, wait—”
Jimin raises his arm, and that’s when it hits him. His entire body freezes as his brain seizes up, sending what feels like a shockwave through him. He falls to his knees a second later, brain pulsing and heart caught in his throat. It’s like the wind has been knocked out of him. What was that? What was—
Oh. Oh.
Hope is one of them. He’s one of them and Jimin tried to hurt him. The bond stopped him, forcefully, painfully, like hands had grabbed him by the brain and pulled him to an abrupt stop. His vision swirls for a moment as he processes the information, as well as all the sensations.
This is what Seokjin meant.
He didn’t realise just how powerful it would be.
“Jimin?”
It’s Hope’s voice. He recognises it from the interviews he’s done on television. Jimin blinks the daze from his eyes, still on his hands and knees when he looks up. Hope gives him a hand and a friendly smile, looking every bit the hero he’s supposed to be.
Ignoring the hand, Jimin stands on his own, feigning nonchalance like that might help wipe the embarrassment now flooding his body. He’s built his life on quick reactions, on fast getaways in order to hide. He has a good excuse for what he did. He would have kept the promise he made to Seokjin. He would have.
The argument in his head feels wrong. It’s not like himself to care about such things. He’s here with an agenda. These people are just minor inconveniences he has to deal with to achieve his goal.
He looks at Hope, refusing to break eye contact. “So you’re the other hero,” he says.
Hope doesn’t put his hand down. Instead, he raises it in an offer to shake, that smile still on his face. “That’s me. But around here, people call me Hoseok. Jung Hoseok.”
It would be rude not to shake his hand after nearly pummeling him to the ground. Jimin lifts his hand, and Hoseok becomes the second person in Bangtan he touches.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jimin,” Hoseok says. “I’ve heard so much about you already.”
Jimin pulls his hand back, dropping it into a pocket. “Shouldn’t you still be out there saving people?”
“My shift is over, so… no.” Hoseok’s eyes dart to something behind Jimin, and he breaks out into an even wider smile, if that’s even possible. “Jungkookie!”
Jungkook barrels past Jimin, punching a hug into Hoseok. His strong arms look like they can crush him. “Missed you,” Jungkook mumbles.
“I wasn’t gone that long.”
“Still missed you. Sleep in my bed tonight.”
Hoseok laughs, sounding delighted. He reaches a hand up to ruffle Jungkook’s red hair. “I can never say no to you.”
“That’s why you’re my favourite to ask.”
“Tsk.” Hoseok pinches Jungkook’s side, inciting Jungkook to jerk away with a laugh. “Always taking advantage of your hyungs, aren’t you?” He looks back at Jimin after Jungkook has given him some space. “Are you his hyung too? Or do we finally have someone younger for him to take care of for a change?”
Take care of? He can’t be serious. Jimin wouldn’t let Jungkook take care of him even if he were dying on the side of the street.
“I’m a few months older than Taehyung.”
Hoseok wraps his arms around Jungkook from behind, smaller yet somehow coddling him all the same. “Then you’re still the baby, Jungkookie. Don’t you feel lucky.”
Jimin can’t help it. He laughs mockingly. The sound is loud enough to carry over to the two of them, and though Hoseok doesn’t seem to mind, Jungkook glares his way. “What? Do you have something to say?”
“Nothing, baby,” Jimin responds, the term of endearment dripping from his lips like poison. “Just enjoying myself. Don’t let me stop you.”
Jungkook is flushed red. He tugs on Hoseok’s hands around him, as if trying to carry him as a backpack—or perhaps just hold him close. “Whatever. Hobi’s back after days on the field. I’m not going to let you ruin that for me.”
He leaves with Hoseok in tow—quite literally. And though Hoseok turns back to mouth a quick sorry Jimin’s way, it’s not enough to rid him of the heavy silence that lingers after their departure. With it comes a loneliness so all encompassing, he can’t physically stay here any longer.
Without a word to anyone, he walks out the front door, shoe-less and empty. As soon as his powers return, he wraps himself in darkness. At least in here, he can’t see the things he’s missing.
🔥
Jimin returns to chatter. He opens the door using the fingerprint and eye scan pad that Seokjin gave him access to the day before and immediately hears it. From here, he can’t see who makes the chatter, but he knows it’s coming from the dining room.
He rounds a corner because he has to in order to get to the stairs that lead down to his room. Even though he would much rather disappear again. Even though he would much rather not confront any of them right now. He’s sure they’ll ask questions. Where were you?
Or maybe they wouldn’t. Maybe they don’t care enough to ask.
He rounds the corner and glimpses almost every seat at the dining table filled. It sits eight and a quick headcount shows him that all six of them are home tonight. Jimin flinches when their gazes turn his way, footsteps quickening to the stairwell that will take him down, away from prying eyes.
“Jimin!” Taehyung calls him easily, like they never stopped being friends. “Have you had dinner?”
“Why do you think I was out so long?” Jimin shoots back. He hates how defensive his voice sounds. He should have just said yes, a simpler answer, even if it might have been a lie.
He doesn’t spare them another glance, because he’s not interested in knowing how they see him. Whether they pity him or hate him or are annoyed by his presence. He’s here for one thing only, and even if it’s been slow going, he did make headway today. And tomorrow, he’ll learn even more. And soon he’ll have read every record and he’ll be able to leave.
Maybe he’ll finally find her. Maybe he’ll finally get what he’s always wanted, and then he’ll… He’ll…
Jimin shuts his room door quietly, his thoughts halting to a stop. What comes after doesn’t matter and it never has. Likely… he’ll be caught. But as long as she’s dead, it doesn’t matter anymore. He just wants her dead.
He ends up taking a shower for something to do. When going from bedroom to bathroom and back, he can hear them up there, talking and laughing. They’re loud altogether. One by one, the noise was manageable, but this just makes him seethe. He doesn’t know why it makes him angry, but he doesn’t try to understand.
He shuts his bedroom door slightly more loudly than necessary, then grabs his phone. It’s this old blocky thing he only uses occasionally—who would he contact, anyway?—but it has all his music on it, so he’s never felt the need to throw it away. It doesn’t have a single AC/DC song on it. Since that night, he hasn’t been able to listen to them without breaking down.
Music calms him. He sets the phone on one of the pillows and turns it up, then lays on his back, letting the sounds wash over him. It’s not a numerous collection, but these were songs he shared with his father. He’s the one who introduced him to these bands and artists. When they weren’t training or running, he would talk about them excitedly to Jimin.
One day, I’ll take you to a concert. You’re going to love it, Jimin.
There are times when thinking about him makes him blind with rage. Other times when he curls up and cries. But tonight, he lets his memories comfort him, lulling him to sleep.
He wakes up hungry and with the lights shut off in the room. His music is now much softer than when he fell asleep, and there’s a blanket over him even though he doesn’t remember getting under the covers. Someone must have come in at some point. Who? Why? He grabs his phone, pressing pause. The silence is unnerving, and he’s tired enough that he could go back to sleep, but he knows he should eat. He’s only had one meal today.
His phone tells him it’s just about midnight, late enough that he shouldn’t run into anyone upstairs. The knowledge gives him courage to leave his room. No more chatter bombards him, no more laughter. The apartment is as silent as if no one lives here.
It’s not hard to find leftovers in the fridge. He takes a clean plate from the drying rack, heaping a large amount of food there. The microwave looks too complicated to use though, so he settles for eating the food cold. He doesn’t sit, too uncomfortable being in a stranger’s home. Instead he stands at the kitchen island, trying to eat as fast as he can so that—
“Something told me you were lying about dinner,” a voice says, cutting his thoughts short.
Jimin looks up to see a figure coming closer. He’s tall and though it’s dark he can still make out the muscled arms and close cropped hair. He stops across from Jimin, his expression bordering on smug. He gives off similar energy to Jungkook, except he’s more mature, more built if that’s possible, and not quite so angry all the time.
“Stealo,” Jimin says.
“Mini. You didn’t say hello.”
Jimin rolls his eyes as Namjoon chuckles, then crosses the kitchen to grab a glass from the cupboard. This he fills up with a bottle he pulls from the fridge. The light shows he’s wearing shorts and white t-shirt, the sleeves hugging his upper arms.
The bottle goes back in the fridge, and darkness surrounds them once more. Jimin swallows his bite of food, looking Namjoon’s way.
“I wasn’t lying about dinner. I just wanted a midnight snack.”
“That’s a lot of food for a snack.”
“I’m a big eater.”
Namjoon hums, sliding ever closer to where Jimin stands. He settles his elbows on the kitchen island, twirling the glass between his fingers as he looks out at the room. They’re almost close enough to touch, and that makes Jimin hyper aware of his actions as he starts to eat again. He feels more than sees Namjoon turning his gaze towards him.
“You should join us next time,” Namjoon says.
Jimin frowns. “Next time?”
“For a meal. We’re all here tomorrow. I think Yoongi said he’d make lunch. He makes the best food. You should join.”
Echoes of the chatter and laughter they shared reverberate in Jimin’s skull. “No thanks,” he says, grip on his chopsticks now tense. He wishes he hadn’t taken so much food so he could have an excuse to leave this conversation.
“Food’s free,” Namjoon tacks on, as if Jimin cares about that.
Sure, he might not be bathing in riches, but he has money. And when he runs out of money, he knows where to go to get some. “I have things to do,” Jimin responds.
“You mean combing through government records with Jungkook? That’s going to take you weeks. You need to eat at some point.”
Jimin’s ear twitches. “You’ve seen how much there is?”
“I helped him haul it back home.”
“Then you know where it is.”
Namjoon chuckles. “As pretty as you are, I’m not getting on Kookie’s bad side to help you rob him.”
Jimin slams his chopsticks on his plate. “What is with this place? Pretty? You don’t want to get on Jungkook’s bad side? What’s he going to do to you? Why do you care? You’re Luna’s fucking right hand man and you’re afraid of a little boy playing vigilante?!”
Namjoon still wears a smile and it’s infuriating. “They said you were quick to anger.”
Jimin scoffs. “Who, Jungkook? He’s the one playing around with dangerous records. Those could get him killed, you know.”
“And they almost did, didn’t they?” Namjoon’s smile drops, and suddenly that’s so much scarier. He stands, looming over Jimin as he looks down at him. “Because of you. Because you tried to kill him.”
“He took what was mine—”
“That’s why, right? That’s why you tried to kill him. You were angry. So angry, you’d bring a knife to the throat of a kid playing vigilante.” Namjoon reaches out, a finger poised on Jimin’s neck. His pulse races wildly beneath it. “He’s innocent, Jimin, and you tried to kill him.”
Jimin gulps. “You can’t hurt me.”
And it’s true. Seokjin’s promise means no one here can. So he doesn’t know why he’s so afraid.
Namjoon clicks his tongue, removing his finger. He goes back to holding his glass of water like he wasn’t just all up in Jimin’s space. “Jinnie said you have some grand goal. Nothing else matters but that. You’ll kill anyone who gets in your way, won’t you?”
Jimin seethes silently, wishing he could kill him, wanting to, aching to.
“I’m just a petty criminal,” Namjoon continues. “Bad circumstances led to bad choices. But I never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. You though… You’re a real villain. How many people have you killed, Mini?”
The question sends his thoughts hurtling back years. All those fires, the people who wronged him, the ones who stood in his way, those that were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. And then there were the others.
He wants to argue with Namjoon that he tried to save them, but he failed. The only people who he wanted to save, and he couldn’t lift a single finger. Instead he sentenced them to their deaths. There’s no one left to save, not even himself.
“You don’t know anything about me,” Jimin says.
“That’s why we’re chatting, isn’t it? To get to know each other?”
“Making assumptions isn’t chatting. You think your circumstances were bad? You don’t know what I went through. You don’t know what they did to me!” Jimin shoves his plate away, no longer hungry. His chest feels tight and his emotions are starting to overwhelm him the way they sometimes do.
It’s easier to fall into anger. At least then he can let it out. Like this, it’s as if his emotions have gotten caught in his lungs, making it hard to breathe, hard to speak. These people are bad for him. They’re making him relive his nightmares, and there’s no escape.
He wants to wrap himself in darkness. He wants to escape this dreadful conversation with this guy he doesn’t know and who doesn’t know him. He wants to recall who he used to be before he became a villain, but he can’t even do that.
Because Namjoon’s right. Nothing else matters but his goal. He’ll kill anyone who gets in his way.
“Who’s they?” Namjoon asks now. Jimin feels like his ears are plugged with cotton, the voice muffled. “What did they do to you?”
It doesn’t matter if Jimin tells him. He feels heavy beneath Namjoon’s judgmental gaze. If he wasn’t powerless within these walls, he would have disappeared a long time ago.
A pressure appears at his back; it takes him a moment to realise that it’s a hand, rubbing gently, soothingly. “I’m sorry. I do tend to jump to conclusions. I’m protective of this group. They’re my family.”
If Jimin had killed Jungkook that night, there is no doubt in his mind that this group would have hunted him down. And, really, it’s the same thing, isn’t it? Because Jimin’s father was killed right in front of him, and now he’s hunting the very person who took his life. So who is Namjoon to judge him? Who is he to preach at him when he knows nothing?
He shakes the hand off his back. “I don’t need your apologies. I just need those records.” He gives Namjoon a sharp look. “Tell your boyfriend to stop playing games with me. And while you’re at it, tell the others I’m not interested in playing family. I’m a villain, just like you said. You’d all do better remembering that.”
He takes the long way around the table, knocking Namjoon’s shoulder on the way out. As he descends the stairs to his level, he thinks he hears a chuckle, as well as the words, “First step to redemption is admitting your mistakes, Mini! Maybe you’re not so bad after all.”
And that— that word— redemption—
Jimin bites the inside of his cheek in anger. He’s not looking for redemption. Once she’s dead, there won’t be anything left for him in this world. They can kill him for all he cares.
Notes:
editing to leave a note here: i hate doing this because it feels like begging but… if you liked the chapter please leave a comment.
Chapter Text
Getting used to soft sheets is one thing. Having to share his gym with a bunch of rowdy boys in their 20s is another. Not that the gym is his, per se, but Jimin does get there first, at almost 7am on the dot. The bell bar is sat stiff on his shoulders as he squats in front of the mirror when Jungkook walks in.
He stops by the doorway to stare at him for a few seconds too long. Jimin glares in return, and though the stare off happens through the mirror, there is something about it that has Jimin’s gut stirring. He concludes it’s because Jungkook has a knack for making him angry.
Jungkook turns away first, granting Jimin a win in their stare off, and heads to the punching bags. Jimin thinks that’s that, but then Namjoon makes an appearance. He shoots a friendly “g’morning” Jimin’s way before walking over to Jungkook, who’s on the floor stretching. He leans down and leaves a kiss on his forehead. Jimin reddens, glancing away immediately, but not before he catches Namjoon’s smirk.
When Yoongi walks in, Jimin very nearly loses it. At this point, he’s making himself comfortable on one of the exercise machines, trying to mind his own business but failing more often than not.
Because Namjoon and Jungkook keep talking. About what they’ve been up to and this new ice cream shop they found and oh, I need to take you to this bunny café, hyung! Not only that, they keep looking at each other, making these lovey dovey eyes as if they’re the only two people in the room.
So Yoongi’s presence is not wanted. Jimin can barely handle being in the same room with two of them; add a third one to the mix, and he thinks he might explode.
Plus, Jimin can’t stop thinking about what happened yesterday, when Yoongi used his powers on him and made him think he might want to kiss him. What is it with these guys and kissing anyway? Jimin has never been surrounded by so much of it. To make matters worse, he can’t stop thinking about it.
Curious about it.
Imagining it.
Maybe Yoongi’s powers left something in him. Maybe this is all just a ploy to get him to let down his walls before they turn him in and collect a bounty. He wouldn’t put it past them.
(Those promises Seokjin made everyone make prevents that, but Jimin conveniently forgets about that. He does so love stewing in his anger and negativity. It’s all he knows how to do.)
“Do you think a dog would liven up the place?” Namjoon asks now, the question aimed, presumably, Jungkook’s way.
Jimin is surprised when Yoongi answers. “A cat. We should get a cat instead.”
Jungkook gawks at him. “But we already have one?”
Yoongi rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling as he raises a hand, curls it, and says “meow”. Namjoon snickers. “What would you think about getting a dog though? Don’t get me wrong, cats are great. But dogs are lively. When half of you are gone, the place gets quiet.”
“I think I’d be a great dog owner,” Jungkook boasts. “But it’s gotta be a big one. Like a guard dog. The beastlier, the better.”
Yoongi snorts. “You’re so predictable.”
“What? Besides, we should have a guard dog if danger ever comes knocking on our door.”
“As if we couldn’t take care of ourselves?” Namjoon says.
“That’s not the point,” Jungkook says. “It’s just nice to be taken care of.”
Once again, Yoongi snorts, but Namjoon coos, walking over to Jungkook to hug him from behind, and somehow Jungkook looks small in front of him, if that’s even possible. “Aw, Jungkookie, I’ll take care of you.”
Jimin huffs, annoyed, and detaches himself from his machine. It’s only been forty-five minutes but he’s had enough of this. Maybe they all forgot he was there. It wouldn’t surprise him. These guys only have eyes for each other.
As he grabs his water bottle and heads to the door, Namjoon calls after him, “Leaving so soon, Mini?”
“Oh, so I’m not invisible?” Jimin barks back, wiping his forehead with the small towel he brought with him.
Namjoon laughs. “You can join in our conversations anytime you want. You live here now, after all.”
“Temporarily,” Jimin quips, hand on the door. He mumbles under his breath, “And thank god for that.”
“Are you a dog or a cat person?”
Jimin turns back with a frown. “What?”
“You heard me. Dogs or cats.” Namjoon hums, eyes raking over Jimin’s body. Is he… checking Jimin out? “I peg you as a cat person.”
“I’m allergic,” Jimin says.
“Doesn’t mean you can’t like them.”
And, well, that’s true. Jimin does like cats, though he hasn’t spent much time around them. He hasn’t spent much time around dogs either. This is a dumb conversation anyway. Why does Namjoon care? Last night, he was cornering Jimin accusing him of all these things, and now he’s asking what sort of pet he might like?
“I don’t like animals,” Jimin says.
Namjoon stares at him like he sees right through the lie. “Shame.”
Both Jungkook and Yoongi are watching him too, and it’s enough to make Jimin bristle. Without another word, he leaves the gym, about to head downstairs when the sounds of fighting catch his attention.
In the duelling room, where Jimin made those promises with Seokjin, Hoseok and Taehyung are sparring. Jimin’s feet slow to a stop. The door is wide open, and he can make out Taehyung flying, up and up and up as Hoseok chases him with an impressive wall of ice.
His powers, if Jimin remembers correctly, are rooted in temperature changes. He can affect both ranges, make the air hot enough to blister as well as cold enough to create ice. It’s one of those powers no villain would want to be on the opposite end of. Even though Taehyung glides away easily, there’s no way the ice won’t reach him eventually.
And it keeps chasing, further up until Taehyung is forced to the other end of the room. He swoops down, but the ice is relentless, forcing him one way and then the other before Taehyung has no more room to fly. Only then does it stop.
“You have an advantage because we’re doing this inside!” Taehyung shouts from where he’s now hidden.
“Then let’s take this outside!” Hoseok shoots back.
A rumble fills the air suddenly, and Jimin watches with wide eyes as the ice shatters into pieces, an explosion of light fanning through it. Jimin has to look away, and even Hoseok exclaims in surprise.
An icy mist swirls in the air, and the remainder of Hoseok’s ice wall lies scattered in chunks at his feet. Taehyung floats down with a grin. What the hell was that? Has Taehyung’s powers gotten some upgrades?
“I always forget you can do that,” Hoseok says. There’s a shimmer around him, as if a shield surrounds him. Jimin narrows his eyes and watches as the icy mist that tries to breach it seems to sizzle. Heat. That must be Hoseok’s heat powers in play.
“It’s the reason I managed to debut at all, remember? A hero who flies and glows isn’t exactly threatening.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Hoseok waves a hand. “Shall we call this a tie then?”
“Unless you want to go again?”
Jimin shifts on his feet, thinking he should go, but the sound or the movement must catch their attention. Suddenly Taehyung is smiling his way, waving enthusiastically. “Jimin! Come join!”
Hoseok wears a similar sort of smile, but it’s softer, not quite so wide. “Yeah, join us. I don’t think I really know what it is you can do.”
Jimin glances at Taehyung. He would have expected him to tell everyone. Lingering by the door, he contemplates declining, but maybe he could use the practice. It’s been a long time since he properly trained, after all. He mostly uses his powers on the field, but even then he keeps it to a minimum.
After a second’s hesitation, Jimin steps into the room. His shoes crunch on the ice, and Hoseok says, “Oh, wait a second,” before waving a hand. A wave of heat washes past Jimin, enveloping him, and the remaining ice all melts into the floor, just like that.
He has good control, Jimin notices. The heat was warm but not unbearable, kind of like a heated blanket. With the cold that lingered in the air before, it had felt almost… nice.
The feeling vanishes when Taehyung says his next words. “You two should spar.”
Jimin’s head snaps to look at him. “What?”
Hoseok draws in a breath of excitement. “Oh, I’d like that! Not everyday you get to go up against the Phantom Arsonist.”
“I don’t have my fire tools,” Jimin says, as if that might get him out of this. He knows they don’t want to fight the ‘arsonist’ side of him. They want to fight the shadows. But he says it anyway, a feeble excuse.
“So you really don’t have fire powers,” Hoseok marvels.
It’s not like there’s any point to keeping it a secret here. They’re all sworn to secrecy, and Taehyung knows what his powers are; Jungkook does too. The others may have guessed. What’s one more interested person?
Jimin tells himself he won’t use it much. He doesn’t want what happened last time to happen again, when the light bled out not just through his eyes but every inch of skin. He’s usually so much more controlled, and it shouldn’t be any different right now.
“No,” Jimin finally says. “Do you really want to see how my real powers work?”
“Yes!” Hoseok answers, sounding like an overeager puppy.
Jimin tries not to smile. “Okay. How do we do this then?”
Taehyung taps his chin with a finger. “Neither of you can hurt each other, so we should come up with some different rules. How about… a game of tag?”
Jimin stares at Taehyung for a moment, wondering if he’s messing with him. He remembers the only time he ever had the pleasure of playing such a game. The memories come back to him all at once, feet sinking into sand, laughter and shrieks echoing around the beach.
It’s my favourite game! We have to play! Please, Jiminie?
Shaking the memory, Jimin says now, “So whoever taps the other first wins?”
“Yes! One tap on the shoulder, and you win.”
It sounds simple enough. Jimin and Hoseok stand across from each other while Taehyung jogs to the edge of the arena. “I’ll count you in. When I say go, that’s when you can start. If your shoulder is tapped and I can’t see, you have to let me know, okay?”
He’s probably thinking ahead. If Jimin manages to tap Hoseok in his darkness, Taehyung wouldn’t see it. But sound can still travel within it, so all Hoseok would have to do is shout that he’s been tagged.
“Are you ready?” Taehyung shouts. Jimin and Hoseok both assure him that they are. “Alright then! Three… two… one… go!”
Jimin plunges the room into darkness. Inside his dome, he can tell where everything is. He can feel what Hoseok is trying to do, conjure a block of ice to protect himself, but he’s too slow. Less than a second later, Jimin’s hand is pressed firmly on Hoseok’s shoulder. The darkness disappears, and Hoseok watches him as the light bleeds out his eyes.
“Holy shit,” Hoseok says, voice wavering.
So maybe Jimin never had to be afraid of Hope. He can hold his own just fine against him, evidently.
Hoseok is still speaking, watching him with wonder. “Your eyes are glowing. Why do they do that?”
“The light I took has to go somewhere,” Jimin tells him. The glow flickers and disappears as quickly as it came.
Taehyung interrupts them as he claps his hands. “That was amazing! Jiminie, you’re amazing!”
Jimin ignores the praise while Hoseok grimaces, but the expression is accompanied by a lighthearted chuckle. “Now that I know what to expect, I won’t go down so easily.”
“Is that your way of asking to spar again?” Jimin asks.
Hoseok squares his shoulders. “It is. Let’s do this.”
Taehyung counts them in again. His bright expression is almost enough to get Jimin smiling (and maybe the thought of besting Hoseok contributes to that too).
This time, when Jimin makes it go dark, Hoseok is much faster to plunge the temperatures to freezing. Ice crystallises in the air, large chunks that block Jimin’s path to Hoseok. As he tries to get closer, they appear like a maze. Jimin grits his teeth. Somehow Hoseok knows where he is. Is it because he can sense where he is by the temperature of his body? It would make sense.
But in the end, it’s futile. Inside the phantom dome, Jimin moves through it like shadows. The ice walls might feel as solid as walls, but Jimin can do something else when he’s in here. He doesn’t hesitate to move through the ice in a straight line to Hoseok.
As he does so, the cold sinks into him. Belatedly, he realises this is something he’s never done before. These temperatures should have his teeth chattering—and probably will soon enough—and yet he’s allowing it all into his body in a desperate attempt to win… what? A game of tag? Another praise from Taehyung?
All of those thoughts zip through his head as he races his way forward, his body too fast to keep up with his thoughts. Even if he wanted to stop the onslaught of cold, it’s too late, so he braces himself, reaching out and—
His hand clamps down on Hoseok’s shoulder, squeezing.
“I’m out,” Hoseok says, just as Jimin lets the dome fall.
Immediately, he keels over, knowing the pain that’s coming but not quite expecting it to feel quite like this. A freezing pain attacks his eyes, like someone is stabbing him with knives carved out of ice. Immediately, he sends it elsewhere, away from his sensitive pupils, but instead of helping the problem, it just spreads it out, spreads it everywhere.
He ends up on his hands and knees, his eyes drawn to the tiny crystals of ice and light appearing all along his skin.
This is like that time, he thinks.
Jimin tries to wipe at it, wipe it off, but his fingers feel numb with cold. He thinks they might fall off if he’s not careful. His brain is in overdrive, unable to keep up with what’s happening even though he should have known. He doesn’t have a solution for this. At least in the facility, if his power backfired, they could do something—find some countermeasure or sedate him.
But here, there’s nothing he can do. The ice he floated through didn’t just disperse. He absorbed it. And now it’s leaving his system, freezing him in the process. It hurts. He shuts his eyes, head falling into his arms. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.
The dome.
He can hide from it in the dome, can’t he? Stop the ice in its tracks?
He can just—
It turns pitch black when he metaphorically closes a fist. For a moment, he can rest, the ice inside him in that in-between state where it can’t hurt him. But the longer he stays here, the more light he absorbs. He can’t hide here forever. Soon he’ll have to come out. Soon—
“Jimin, what’s wrong?” The voice seems to come out of nowhere. Jimin looks up to see the glow of his least favourite hero. Taehyung rushes to him, reaching out to touch only to hiss and pull back. “You’re freezing.”
Jimin nods, unable to say anything else. This was his own fault. He didn’t understand the limits of his powers, and now he’s paying the price.
Just like he did when he was forced to absorb fire and got burned for it.
“Let me help,” another voice says, entering Taehyung’s light.
Before Jimin knows it, he’s being pulled onto someone’s lap, his head to a chest, his body wrapped in warm arms.
“You can come out of your shadows,” Taehyung says, kneeling in front of them. “Hoseok’s got you. He’ll warm you up. You can trust him.”
If Jimin wasn’t so scared, the assurances might feel belittling. But… he needs them right now. Rationally, fearfully, he knows that. So he lets out a breath, and the dome disappears once more. His entire body tenses, waiting for the cold to render him completely numb—
Only it doesn’t.
Hoseok warms him from head to toe, creating a bubble of warmth that counters the cold on his skin. As it bleeds out of him, it hits the warm air and vanishes. Jimin finds he can breathe again. It doesn’t hurt. Even the light that escapes with the ice doesn’t burn like it usually does, but he’s not in the right state of mind to understand why.
As the pain subsides to nothing, Jimin takes note of where he is. He sits in the middle of the arena, Hoseok’s legs spread out around his body, which is sprawled against Hoseok’s torso. In front of him, Taehyung looks on with a worried face, eyes never leaving Jimin, poised to run for help if he needs it.
Jimin glances aside, not wanting to meet his eyes, only for movement by the doorway to draw his attention. He looks over to see Yoongi watching them, the smallest of frowns on his face, as if he’s trying to discern just what it is he’s seeing. Is he angry? That Jimin is the sole focus of his boyfriends’ attention right now?
Jimin opens his mouth, maybe to say something, maybe to explain himself, but before he can, Yoongi draws back, disappearing from view.
“Are you okay?” Taehyung asks.
The ice is gone, melted from his system with Hoseok’s help. Jimin is coming back to himself, and as he does, he becomes aware just how embarrassing it actually is that he beat the hero in their game of tag but still managed to get hurt in the process. Clearing his throat, he sits up, shuddering as Hoseok’s pocket of heat retracts.
“I’m fine,” Jimin says. He forces himself to his feet, looking down at both of them. It’s all he can do not to run, not to hide in the shadows and never come out again. “Sorry for the trouble.”
Hoseok casts him a friendly smile. “It wasn’t trouble.”
“Still.” Jimin looks away. “You didn’t have to.”
“Jiminie.” Taehyung stares up at him, all at once sounding too serious. Jimin meets his gaze with some trepidation. “Why does your power keep hurting you like that?”
He wants to offer a simple explanation. When he misuses it, absorbing things he shouldn’t, like fire or ice, it backfires. That’s just the way it’s always been. Light should be the only thing that doesn’t hurt him, but sometimes it does, when he takes too much. It doesn’t make sense even to himself, and he doesn’t want Taehyung asking questions he can’t answer.
So he just says, “I don’t know.”
Taehyung’s expression turns thoughtful. “Maybe you’re not using it right. Maybe there’s a way you can do what I do and—”
“Think I’d know my powers better than you,” Jimin snaps. His chest feels tight, his mouth dry. “There’s nothing else to it. Just forget it.”
“I just want to help,” Taehyung says, the corners of his lips downturned.
“I don’t need help.”
“Obviously you do.”
Jimin doesn’t expect the retort, and he’s about to fire something back in anger, as he’s been prone to doing since he stepped foot in this place, but Taehyung keeps going before he can.
“If Hobi hadn’t helped you, you could’ve frozen to death. You passed out because of your powers before I brought you here—”
“Because of you!” Jimin says angrily.
“You could’ve absorbed light from anywhere and I bet the same thing would’ve happened,” Taehyung counters. “I’ve seen this sort of thing before, powers hurting their users. But there are ways around it. We could figure out the root of your power and maybe, maybe then it wouldn’t hurt anymore.”
Jimin stares long and hard at Taehyung, sitting there on the floor like he knows everything. And maybe he could help. Maybe his experience in the hero programme he was a part of would make him the perfect person to help. But what’s the point? Jimin knows what happens after his goal is accomplished. They’ll kill him. There’s no doubt in his mind about that.
“Not interested, Taehyung.” Jimin keeps his voice level, but he thinks his fury may still be evident. It simmers beneath the surface of his skin, and it occurs to him then— he hates him. He hates that Taehyung is so powerful, that he was given the proper training to become that way, and that he uses his powers to help people.
He hates that he’s so easily able to offer to help him, even though he’s hurt people to get what he wants. Most of all, he hates how much he wishes to take Taehyung up on that offer, if just to stop it from hurting. He hates how weak he is, and how everyone can see it.
“But I can help,” Taehyung argues stubbornly. “I swear this isn’t a trick or anything, I genuinely want to…”
Hoseok reaches out to tap Taehyung’s shoulder, and he trails off, looking at him. “If he’s not interested, don’t force it,” Hoseok says. He glances up at Jimin. “The offer stands, of course. If you change your mind, you can always find one of us. We’d be glad to help.”
There is no way Hoseok is for real. Jimin understands Taehyung’s attachment, considering how close they had been as kids, but Hoseok doesn’t even know him. And what he does know is probably all bad. Why help him, when he’s a villain? It doesn’t make sense.
Jimin stuffs his hands into his pockets. “I’m not changing my mind so don’t hold your breath.” Neither of them say anything to that, so he takes his leave—silent, brooding, and angry.
🔥
Jimin doesn’t know how he ended up here. Or, well, he kind of does, but he doesn’t like it. And it’s all Jungkook’s fault.
After Jimin stretched, showered and changed, he heard a knock at the door. It ended up being Jungkook, also freshly showered, and he carried a few files in his hands. They ended up spending the rest of the morning reading together. Jungkook theorised out loud. Jimin refused to confirm anything.
The transcripts had moved on from discussing the building’s construction. New names cropped up, and the questions asked seemed to be standard. It took a moment for Jimin to realise that these were interviews, probably of the people who worked there. He wondered if she was one of them. She must be.
“Remember how I said I had something to show you yesterday?” Jungkook asked as they finished reading the last transcript.
“Mhm,” Jimin responded dismissively, eyeing all the interviews as he scanned them for any clues that might give away their real identities.
“Well… Do you still want to see it?”
Jimin looked up with narrowed eyes. “A bit hard to answer that question when I don’t know what it is.”
“Easier to show you,” Jungkook said.
Jimin sighed. “Of course it is.”
“I mean, if you don’t want to, that’s fine too. I just thought you might be interested since it involves you.”
Jimin hated how cryptic Jungkook is being—hated even more that it worked. He started to stand. “Fine. Show me this mystery thing of yours.” He eyed Jungkook up and down as he got off the bed too. “It better not be your dick.”
Jungkook choked and sputtered. “What— That’s not— Why would I— You’re crazy.”
Jimin chuckled, his lips curving upwards. “I’m just kidding. Idiot.”
Jungkook stared at him for a beat too long. Whatever was going on in that head of his, Jimin wasn’t privy to. Then he shook his head. “Let’s just go.”
And that's how Jungkook tricks him into joining the others for lunch. Because the moment his feet step onto the main floor landing, Namjoon is throwing an arm across his shoulders and giving Jungkook a not-so-sneaky wink.
“What is this?” Jimin asks as he’s ushered to the dining table and forced to sit on an empty seat.
“Lunch,” Namjoon says, taking the seat beside him as if to stop him from leaving. “I invited you and now you’re here.”
“I never agreed to come.”
“You need to eat. Kookie agrees with me, don’t you?” He looks at Jungkook, who’s taking the seat across from Jimin.
He shrugs in response, refusing to look at both of them. There’s a slight redness to his cheeks, like maybe he’s embarrassed, or he was forced into doing this. It doesn’t make sense. Why does Namjoon even care?
He contemplates getting up to leave just to be stubborn, but before he can, Yoongi, Hoseok and Taehyung appear, and with them comes the smell of food. They start setting dishes on the table, pork belly and slices of beef and lettuce leaves and kimchi and rice. Jimin’s stomach growls just at the sight of it. When was the last time he saw a meal like this?
His dad never cooked for him. They were never in a place where he could, and he was always too busy with his research or with training Jimin. After Jimin was taken to the facility, he would have a selection to choose from in their cafeteria, but never one so luxurious as this. Then, when he escaped, he only ate what he had to. If that meant ramen in his motel room, then that’s what it meant.
The answer, then, is never.
He’s never had a meal like this before.
Yoongi goes back to the kitchen to grab more dishes—a variety of vegetables, a bowl of stew with ingredients Jimin can’t even name, steamed eggs topped with green onions. Once it’s all there, the table is filled. Jimin stares at it all, stunned at the display.
“Here,” Namjoon says, scooping rice from the large bowl in the centre onto his plate without asking if he wants some. Then he serves himself. Everyone sits down, save for Seokjin, who seems to be missing right now. “What do you want to start with?” Namjoon asks.
Jimin wants to say that he doesn’t need to be served. This is too much. He’s a temporary visitor in this home that isn’t his. He may be staying in the guest room, but he’s not a proper guest. He didn’t ask to be here, and he would rather not be.
“If you don’t know, I’ll just pick for you,” Namjoon says. “Pork belly? It’s really good. You should try it.”
“Um, I…” Jimin trails off because Namjoon doesn’t wait before grabbing a few slices for him.
“Yoongi’s the unofficial head chef of Bangtan,” Hoseok says, offering the information with no preamble. “Though Jinnie cooks a mean omelette rice. You’ll have to try it sometime.”
Yoongi shrugs, reaching for the stew and filling his bowl with it. “It’s nothing. I like to cook. Everyone needs to eat.”
Jimin picks up his chopsticks. It feels wrong to dine with them like this. He’s grateful for the food, but he didn’t ask for any of this. He’s perfectly happy living on leftovers and cheap ramen. He doesn’t want the hospitality, and he doesn’t want to eat with them like they’re one big happy family.
Even so, he takes a bite, surprised at the burst of flavour in his mouth. He looks up to see Taehyung watching him, a faint smile on his lips.
“It’s good,” Jimin offers, glancing at Yoongi hesitantly.
“Thanks,” comes the dry reply.
Trying to ignore the awkwardness in the room, Jimin asks, “Where’s Seokjin?”
“Hyung’s out dealing with his subordinates,” Jungkook answers. “Sometimes some of them stir up trouble and he has to make them stop.”
“Like… with his powers?”
“Sometimes. He tries not to use it if he doesn’t have to, but some people don’t listen, so…”
It goes unspoken, but Jimin understands. He continues to eat, fresh out of questions. As it is, it doesn’t matter because the rest of them fill in the silence easily. Namjoon starts up the conversation they left behind in the gym, asking Hoseok and Taehyung what they think about getting a dog.
It’s altogether far too domestic for Jimin’s tastes. He decides to eat as quickly as possible so he can leave.
“Oh, Jimin,” Jungkook suddenly says, after a majority of them have agreed that a dog in their apartment is a necessity and they should bring it up to Seokjin as soon as they can. “I really do have something to show you, so don’t disappear after this.”
Great. If Jimin wasn’t so curious, he would snap something back about not being interested. Instead he says, “Can’t you just bring it to me later?”
“It’s too big to just carry around.”
“So it really isn’t your dick then,” Jimin says, and Namjoon chortles beside him. He hears Yoongi snort and Hoseok giggle. Taehyung laughs out loud and nudges Jungkook’s shoulder playfully.
“I don’t have a small dick,” Jungkook says defensively, taking the bait. “But it’s impractical to have a dick so big you can’t move.”
The image has Jimin laughing. Maybe it’s because the others caught on to the joke and found it funny. Maybe— Maybe the delight rushing through him is simply because he’s never had anyone he could joke with like this before. Earlier he was angry about his powers; now he’s laughing. It’s strange, but he doesn’t want to let this feeling go.
Jungkook pokes at his food with a pout. “Why are you so interested in my dick anyway?”
It’s Jimin’s turn to snort. “Never said I was.”
Jungkook doesn’t look like he believes him. Jimin goes back to eating, wondering just how big Jungkook’s dick really is, and if he might be interested in finding out one day. A second later, he shakes himself of those thoughts. Like a dick too big to carry around, it’s an impractical thought. He’ll be leaving soon enough.
Seokjin returns as Jimin is helping himself to seconds, too hungry—and the food too good—to stop eating so soon. He doesn’t say anything about Jimin being there, just greets them all and sits at the head of the table wearily. Jimin glances at him with curiosity, noticing the dark circles under his eyes.
It seems he’s not the only one, because Namjoon asks, “Everything okay?”
“Just a few of my dad’s sympathisers trying to start a rebellion against me,” Seokjin says. It sounds serious.
“Again?” Namjoon asks.
“Don’t worry. I stopped it before it could spark into anything, reminded them who they’re working for and what happens if they try anything like this again.”
Jimin wonders how many people Seokjin has killed besides his father. He wonders if Namjoon has anything against that, or if his judgement is reserved for Jimin because he tried to go after someone he loves.
“Oh,” Seokjin says, turning to Jimin. “I also found something out for you. That whole thing about the SSLO knowing where you were the other day?”
Jimin sits up. “Yeah?”
“Turns out someone else staying there at the same time as you reported someone illegally using powers at the place, kept making it pitch black over and over again. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
There’s a knowing look in Seokjin’s eyes. Jimin can’t respond, because he remembers now. He was drinking that night, opening and closing his fist as he made it go dark, and then light, and then dark again. Just how many times had he done it? He doesn’t even know. Careless. Stupid. He knows how careful he needs to be, yet he had let his emotions get the best of him.
Again.
“Anyway, it doesn’t seem like there’s a manhunt for you,” Seokjin says. “They seem to have concluded that it was just a power outage.”
Jimin finds his voice. “Right.”
“Do you usually stay at motels, Jimin?” Seokjin asks.
The question is unexpected. Jimin answers honestly. “Better than sleeping on the streets.”
“You and your dad were staying at one when we met,” Taehyung says, like he’s only just remembering. Out of the corner of Jimin’s eye, he sees Yoongi giving him another curious look, as if trying to pry him open.
But before he can meet that gaze with a challenge, Taehyung is speaking again, eyes shooting wide. “Right! Speaking of when we met, I have something for you.”
He’s up and out of his seat before all the words have left his mouth. Jimin stares after him with a frown, hoping it’s not a gift of some kind. He’s uncomfortable as it is sharing a meal with these people. He’s not sure what he would do if Taehyung handed him a present. They’re not even friends anymore.
They’re enemies, Jimin reminds himself. Outside these walls, that’s all they will ever be.
“Here we are!” Taehyung exclaims, coming back in a hurry. He waves something small and white in his hand. Leaning over the table, he hands it over. “It was in your room. I snuck in after hearing about the attack and it was just lying there. I charged it last night. Is it the one you lost?”
Jimin’s mouth goes dry when he sees what it is. Numbly, he takes it in his palm, staring at a piece of his past that only serves to remind him of that night. It crashes into him as if it happened yesterday.
“No matter what you hear, don’t come outside.”
Jimin intended to listen to his father’s words, but when the song ended, he was too curious. He hit pause before it could play again, only to hear a scream so blood curdling that he hurtled out of the closet, earbuds falling from his ears and iPod falling to the ground.
His father was on his knees, something sticking out of his back, something crystal that ended in a point, something that had created a hole in him so large, blood was seeping out of it. Jimin didn’t quite understand what he was seeing at first.
“Jimin, run…” came a pained voice.
His father slumped forward, landing on his face as the crystal thing was removed, and Jimin looked up to see a woman standing there, her arm turning from a crystalised sword back into a normal hand. She flexed her fingers, which were covered in blood, then turned her eyes to Jimin.
It was at that moment that he thought: I’m going to die.
He turned and ran, sprinting out the front door only to be caught by the back of his neck and hauled roughly back into the room.
“Let me go!” he shrieked.
Suddenly she was hugging him, even as he trembled, shock making his entire body numb. His brain couldn’t process what he had seen. His dad… dead? He was… dead? How? Why? Why was there blood spreading out along the floor, creeping towards him?
He was so caught up in those questions that he barely heard what the woman said, not until a second had passed.
“Oh, Jiminie,” she said, squeezing tight. “I found you. I finally found you.”
He didn’t understand. He had never been lost. He had always been right here.
“I’ve saved you from that bad man,” she continued.
Dad wasn’t bad. She was saying weird things. She pulled back to look at him, cupping his cheeks, smearing blood on one of them as if it was normal. Dad’s blood. That was Dad’s blood on her hand.
She just smiled, as if he should be grateful. “It’s time to go home.”
He drops the iPod like he’s been burned, shooting to his feet. It falls with a dull thud on the table. His heart has crept up his throat, lodging itself there and making it hard to breathe. Why would Taehyung keep this? What sort of sick game is this?
Was he there? Was he an accomplice? Is that how they found him? All his life, he knew someone was chasing them, but it wasn’t until meeting Taehyung that they actually caught up. It wasn’t until they became friends that his dad died right in front of him.
Taehyung’s a hero. What was he even doing at a beach in Busan? Where had his parents been? Jimin never saw them. What if he’s been working with them since the beginning? What if he had made Jimin show him his powers so he could identify him? How else could they have found him?
Jimin stares at Taehyung in a new light, a chill entering his bones that hurts more than the ice that lingered in his body earlier. Had their entire friendship been a lie? Jimin had put him on a pedestal. Jimin had considered him the only friend he ever had.
“What’s wrong?” Taehyung asks, his smile dropping.
“Y- You—” The word catches in Jimin’s throat. He tries again, panic squeezing him, making it hard to speak. “You— It was you— You—”
“I—” Taehyung looks around the table, confusion written all over his face. He starts to walk around the table, approaching Jimin. “I thought it would make you happy. I’m sorry if it brought up unwanted memories. I swear I didn’t—”
“Get away from me!” Jimin shrieks when Taehyung tries to reach for him. He swings a hand, intending to swat Taehyung’s hand away only for the promise he made to attack him. He thinks he’s about to die when his brain seizes up, forcing him to freeze his movements. After a moment, it ebbs away, leaving his mind pulsing, but he can’t think clearly anymore.
What have they done to him? They’ve turned him into a helpless puppet, unable to protect himself from the people who want to hurt him.
How could he? He thinks over and over again, his heart breaking.
Taehyung took his dad away from him. He took him and then kept the iPod like some sort of trophy. How could Jimin have ever thought about trusting him? How could he have never made the connection before?
“I swear I didn’t do anything,” Taehyung’s saying, his tone sad. It’s fake. It’s fake, it’s fake, it’s fake. All of it was. “I- I don’t know what I did. Jimin, please—”
She just smiled, as if he should be grateful. “It’s time to go home.”
“No. NO!” he screamed as she picked him up, walking to the window. He looked back at his dad’s still body, willing him to wake up and save him. What was this nightmare? He didn’t want this. His dad was his home, and she was taking him away from him.
“You killed him!” he screams, struggling out of her grip.
He needs to do something, attack her, but all he can do is make it go dark. But it’s better than nothing, right? It’s better than nothing.
But it’s like she knows what he wants to do. She pulls something out of her pocket, a bracelet, and clamps it around his wrist. When he tries to use his power, it doesn’t work. He tries and tries and tries and nothing happens.
He thinks he might be broken.
“Appa…” he cries.
“Shh. You’re safe now.”
“You’re safe here,” someone says, and Jimin thinks that sounds exactly like what she used to say. He backs away, tripping over his feet in panic. He can’t even run. He’s broken again, his powers failing him when he needs it most.
“Yoongi, he doesn’t trust me. I need you,” the same voice says.
“Yeah. Yeah, of course.”
Jimin buries his head in his hands when his back hits a solid wall. They’re going to hurt him. They took his dad away and now they’re going to hurt him, because that’s all anyone ever does. He thought Taehyung was different. How could he have been so wrong?
“Shh,” a voice says. Jimin jerks away from it, buried in old memories. “It’s okay. We won’t hurt you. We just want to help.”
That’s what they always say.
Jimin shivers as a calm starts to spread through his body anyway, reacting to the words even if a core part of him doesn’t believe them. His fingers curl into his hair, pulling until it stings. What are they doing to him?
These feelings aren’t his own.
“Stop it, stop, stop, please, I’m sorry,” he says. He messed up and they’re going to sedate him again. He doesn’t want to be forced to sleep. He’ll wake up with a pounding headache. “Please, please, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do it.”
What did you not mean to do?
“... Fight you. I’ll be good. Please, don’t hurt me. D- Don’t… Please. Please.”
“I don’t know if it’s working.” The voice that says this sounds distant. “He’s fighting it. I don’t think his mind is here, Jinnie.”
“Tae, why the hell did you bring that iPod out?”
“I didn’t know—”
“Hey, let’s save the fighting for when our guest isn’t having a panic attack, okay?”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’ll keep trying. He can’t fight me forever.”
“Sorry to make you do this, Yoongi. I’d use my voice but it’s not gentle like your powers are.”
“It’s okay. I want to help.”
Jimin hears the words but can’t process them. He’s living in the past, blubbering apologies to his captors in the hopes that they will leave him alone. Sometimes the injections put him to sleep, but other times they make his powers go haywire. Once he hurt another kid, knocking into him at such high speeds that they cracked their head against a wall.
They called it ‘making progress’. He decided they were trying to turn him into a monster.
He’s tired of it. Why can’t they understand that he doesn’t want any of this? That’s why he fights, but he’s getting exhausted. His limbs feel heavy and he just wishes everything would stop for a while. He just wants to lie where he is and let the world pass him by. He just wants to forget his reality and drown in tired bliss.
The hands on his scalp loosen, his head rolling to one side. Something catches him, and he feels himself hauled up, his body leaving the floor. He’s too tired to look where he’s going. All he knows is that sleep is welcome right now. His panic has disappeared, ripped away from him. His fear is dull, squeezed so small it barely exists anymore.
“I couldn’t calm him down properly, so I settled on lulling him into exhaustion,” Yoongi says. Right. Yoongi is a name he knows, someone from his present. Jimin doesn’t remember why he’s there, and he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.
“We’re really not equipped to handle things like this, are we?” Seokjin asks, sounding as exhausted as Jimin feels. He chuckles though, as if he just made a joke.
“Don’t be too hard on yourself.” That’s Namjoon, Jimin thinks. “None of us knew it was going to be like this when we asked him to stay.” There’s a brief pause as Jimin is put down on something soft, head propped on a pillow. “I wonder what demons he’s dealing with.”
“That’s the issue,” Yoongi says. “I don’t think he’s ever tried to deal with them before.”
“They’ll keep haunting him if he keeps running away.”
“That’s up to him though.”
“Must be pretty bad demons. I don’t blame him for running away from them for so long.”
“Have either of you spoken to Jungkook about what they found in the files he stole?” Namjoon asked.
“No,” Seokjin says. “Why? Is it bad?”
“There were all these transcripts about some facility over east. Apparently Jimin went pale when he first heard about it, like he knew exactly what it was. Jungkook thinks he was held there against his will. I don’t know what it was, but it sounded pretty bad. Definitely illegal.”
“Do you think the people who built that place are the ones he’s hunting?” Yoongi asks.
“Probably.”
“I wish he would talk to us,” Seokjin laments with a sigh. “I think they hurt him. I think they really, really hurt him.”
“Fuck,” Namjoon swears. “I think I was too harsh on him last night.”
“Last night?”
“I found him grabbing dinner at midnight. I sort of… tried to make him feel guilty about going after Kookie. But you know how it is. He went after one of our own. He marked a red X over his face and everything. It made me angry. I just wanted him to know he messed up.”
“He did though,” Yoongi says. “I was there. He didn’t care he was about to torch the place.”
“But he saved you,” Seokjin interjects.
They’re all silent for a few seconds. Yoongi sighs, breaking it. “Yeah. I suppose he did.”
Jimin’s exhaustion has been decreasing as they talked, and now he feels awake enough to understand what they’re saying. A part of him doesn’t want to face them; another part of him hates being talked about like he’s not there. He shifts, opening his eyes to see a tall ceiling above him, a crystal chandelier hanging from it.
He seems to be in the living room, lying on one of the couches. There’s a fireplace in one corner, a television against the wall, and a coffee table in the middle of several couches, which are occupied by Seokjin, Namjoon and Yoongi. The others are gone, maybe still in the dining room, maybe dispersed.
Yoongi is the first to notice his open eyes. Likely, he’s the reason the exhaustion is fading. It wasn’t real then. He used his powers to get rid of Jimin’s panic. “Hey,” Yoongi says, leaning forward in his seat. “How are you feeling?”
It’s the second time Jimin has needed saving from them. He doesn’t want to make this a habit. As he sits up, he sees stars, the blood rushing to his head. He takes a deep breath. There’s a pain in his scalp, and he touches it with a hand, rubbing.
“You pulled on your hair pretty hard,” Namjoon tells him.
Jimin drops his hand. He doesn’t remember doing that. “Oh.”
“Are you okay?”
Namjoon’s question makes Jimin realise that he never answered Yoongi’s question, but he’s not quite sure what to say in response. Sitting back, he crosses his legs and stares at his lap, not wanting to meet anyone’s eyes. “I heard you talking,” he says.
“Sorry if we were a bit loud,” Namjoon says.
Jimin just shakes his head. What do they have to be sorry about? He recalls bits and pieces of the last… however long it’s been since Taehyung brought him the iPod. Now that he’s calmer, he thinks he may have jumped to conclusions, but he’s not sure. He doesn’t understand anything that’s happening.
Why would Taehyung keep that thing for so many years?
“Tae…” Jimin trails off, unsure how to phrase the question. “Tae and I were friends once.”
“We know,” Namjoon says. It seems he’s taken up the mantle of speaking. The other two remain silent, but they keep their eyes angled Jimin’s way, as if watching for any signs of distress.
“We became friends because I lost my iPod.”
“He said something about that.”
“My dad bought me a new one.” Jimin’s voice wavers, the assault of those memories still so fresh in his mind. “That’s the one Tae found. I thought… I thought he might’ve betrayed me. He wouldn’t do that… would he?”
He sounds small even to his own ears, desperately trying to understand Taehyung’s place in all of this. He wants so badly for him not to be a bad guy. He wants so badly to hold onto the memories he used to cherish, the only thing that kept him sane in that place.
“Tae would never do that,” Namjoon tells him. “I know him like I know myself. He’s got a good heart.”
“Why would he take it then? It was… It was the last thing my dad gave me before he died.”
“I don’t think Tae knew. Jimin, if anything, he probably took it hoping he would find you someday, so he could return it. He’s talked about you a lot since he found you, to all of us. He regrets never looking for you. He thinks it’s his fault you got hurt. He just wants to help you. That’s his agenda here. He’s making up for all the time he let pass not looking for you.”
Though it’s not coming from Taehyung’s mouth, somehow that lines up with what Jimin remembers of his old friend. That was why they became friends, after all. Taehyung just wanted to help him. That happy-go-lucky kid without a care in the world, but who cared deeply about the people he was close to.
“He’s the only friend I ever had,” Jimin says, still looking at his lap. He can’t even begin to describe how much he missed him after he was taken. How much he wished to be reunited someday. And then one thing after the other happened, and one day he stopped hoping.
Being saved by the boy who showed him friendship was nothing more than a fantasy.
But what if it’s not?
What if Taehyung means exactly what he’s said? What if he really did want to save him? What if, right now, that’s what he’s trying to do? When Jimin managed to escape all on his own, he stopped thinking he needed saving. He could save himself. He could cloak himself in darkness and escape whatever danger befell him.
But his shadows are lonely, and he’s always been scared of the dark.
Taehyung used to chase that all away.
Show me! I want to see!
It’s not like your power though. If I want to glow, I have to make it go dark first.
That’s okay. I’m not afraid of the dark. Why? Are you?
N- No.
Are you lying?
Maybe...
If I hold your hand while you do it, will you let me see?
“Is he here?” Jimin asks now.
Seokjin finally pipes up. “He went to his room. It was distressing to you for him to be so near, so I told him to let us take care of you.”
Jimin has yet to enter anyone’s room except his own and Jungkook’s. “Which one is his room?”
“Second door on the right,” Seokjin says, watching him with soft eyes. None of them ask him why he’s asking. Likely they already know.
But Jimin still thinks to offer them a little more. “I want to talk to him.”
“Okay.” Seokjin sits back, making no move to stop him. This is not a place where they’re trying to hold him, or force him to do what they want him to do. Jimin finds himself, for the first time, craving the freedom they’ve granted him.
Jimin stands, still a little shaky on his feet. He heads to the living room door, stopping right by it to look back, eyeing the three of them in turn. “Thanks for helping me,” he says quickly, then steps outside, too nervous to wait for their replies.
But there’s a feeling stirring in his gut. He thinks it’s something akin to fondness.
Notes:
things are sort of making some progress?? :] i'd love to hear your thoughts if you have any!! thank you to all those who have subscribed to this and are following along <3
Chapter 5
Notes:
i'm late and i'm sorry TT i've been travelling but just touched down a couple hours ago so i finally found time to update!! hope you all enjoy this one :)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Jimin doesn’t knock. If he does, he thinks he might lose the courage to do this, so he just turns the doorknob and walks into the room. He’s surprised to see how clean it is, if a little weirdly decorated.
Above the bed are fairy lights hanging from the ceiling, all of them lit up, each bulb a different colour. In the corner is a statue of a red bear that Jimin doesn’t get the significance of. There are two monitors on the desk and a keyboard that lights up the same colours as the fairy lights.
On the floor is a fuzzy carpet that’s a royal blue, the same colour as the hair on a cartoon painting Taehyung has hanging on the wall. There’s a beanbag in one corner, and a television with a game console beneath it. It’s not at all like a hero’s room. It’s like a normal boy’s room, and it endears Jimin towards Taehyung even more.
Taehyung himself sits on the bed, which has these checkered sheets on. When Jimin walks in, he’s fiddling with Jimin’s iPod, but as soon as he sees who’s at the door, he quickly hides this behind his back, eyes wide.
“What are you doing here?” Taehyung asks.
“I want that.” Jimin meant to say he wants to talk, but that’s not what comes out. He holds out a hand, waiting.
Taehyung stands, hesitantly placing the iPod, with the earbuds Jimin lost, in his palm. He watches Jimin carefully, as if waiting for him to break again. Jimin doesn’t though. He’s more prepared this time, not quite so volatile.
“Thanks,” Jimin says. He looks down at it, its weight familiar in his hands, even though it’s been so long. It looks brand new. “Thank you for taking care of it all these years.”
“Oh.” Taehyung shrugs. “I didn’t do much. Just… left it in a drawer. Made sure no one touched it.”
“Can we… talk?”
“Yeah!” Taehyung lights up all of a sudden. He moves so Jimin can properly enter the room.
“It’s just that I promised we would,” Jimin explains.
“Right.” Taehyung grabs the desk chair, spinning it around. “You can sit here.”
He shuts the room door as Jimin sits, getting comfortable. He watches as Taehyung crosses the room back to his bed, sitting cross legged on it. He flashes a smile Jimin’s way, looking so much like the boy Jimin used to hang out with that it has his eyes stinging, just a bit.
“Are you comfortable?” Taehyung asks.
Jimin nods, settling back on the chair. He sat in one of these once, at a store that sold monitors and keyboards. He had been wandering around a mall, his feet taking him into the darkened store where customers were trying out the different gaming products being sold. He ended up sitting too, pretending he was there to buy something.
This is more comfortable though. Maybe because he’s not in a public space surrounded by strangers. Back then, when a salesperson asked him what he wanted, he wanted nothing more than to disappear.
“You…” Jimin considers how to phrase the question. He just needs some reassurance. He needs to hear it straight from Taehyung’s lips. “You don’t work for the people who kidnapped me, do you?”
“No,” Taehyung says, but there’s a question in the word. His expression shifts. “Someone kidnapped you?”
Jimin grips his iPod tightly. “If you took this, you must’ve seen the body.”
“I… No.” Taehyung shakes his head. “I only heard about the attack in the motel the next day. There were all these policemen around the building. I waited till there was no one around to sneak inside. There wasn’t a body. Just… Just blood. Jiminie, I thought you died.”
“You didn’t tell anyone, right?” Jimin continues his line of questioning, because he has to know. “About me. About my powers. You’re the only one who knew what I could do besides my dad. They only found me after I became friends with you.”
“No, no, I swear. I swear. I would never. You told me not to so I didn’t. I kept it a secret. I swear.”
“Okay,” Jimin says. He pulls his lips into his mouth, teeth clamping down on his lower lip. He lets it pop back out after a second. “I believe you.”
Taehyung takes a shaky breath, eyes wide. “Who kidnapped you? Why…? What body… Do you mean…? They killed… They reported that someone died in the motel but no one gave any details anywhere. I thought they meant you. I thought…”
“It was my,” Jimin lets out a heavy breath, “my dad. My— The person who kidnapped me killed him. Took me to… a place. It doesn’t matter. I just… I just needed to know you didn’t betray me. You were the only friend I ever had, Tae. If you’d betrayed me…”
“Never,” Taehyung says, fists clenched tight around his bedsheets. “God, never ever. I only knew you for a few weeks, but you were my best friend. I always thought of you that way. I’d never betray you.”
“I didn’t think so, but I- I needed to know.”
“Of course. I’m sorry.” Taehyung’s lower lip wobbles. “I should’ve looked for you. I didn’t do enough. I didn’t even think—”
“It’s okay,” Jimin says. He’s numb to it at this point. Really, what could Taehyung have done anyway? Even if he’d known. He was just a kid. They both were. “I convinced myself you’d been taken too. I just thought maybe… maybe it was a thing? For kids with powers to be taken? But when I got out, I realised it wasn’t normal. I…”
He remembers, back when he first escaped, thinking that maybe he should try to find Taehyung. After his dad, he was the only person Jimin really knew. He had never had anyone else in his life. He didn’t count the scientists who experimented on him. If anyone could help him, it was Taehyung.
But he had no idea how to find him. As he learned more about how society worked, he realised it wouldn’t matter anyway. He was an anomaly. Abnormal. Why would Taehyung still want to be friends with him?
And if Taehyung ever learned what he had done to escape… he would hate him forever.
Even now, Jimin harbours that secret, unable to part with it. Now that he’s so close to re-establishing some form of connection with the boy he befriended, he feels selfish. He doesn’t want to scare him. He doesn’t want to make him hate him.
Jimin’s been alone for so long. He wants this more than anything he’s wanted in… in years.
“Who took you, Jimin?” Taehyung asks again.
Jimin swallows the words. “I don’t think I should say.”
“Because I’m a hero?”
“Because I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Why?”
“I’d rather forget what happened.” In his mind’s eye, he sees the first building he ever felled with fire, the way smoke and flames rose into the air in front of him, the sounds of exploding concrete drowning their screams.
“That bad?”
Jimin nods. “Yeah. Pretty bad.”
Taehyung’s expression seems to morph several times, from pity to resignation to frustration. It settles on something neutral eventually. “How has it been, staying here? Is Jungkook still being a pain in the ass?”
Jimin laughs, surprised by the change of topic. “Yes, but I can handle him.”
“Good. Hobi really likes you. He keeps saying how cute you are. He says he’s going to put you in his pocket one day.”
Jimin feels his cheeks grow warm. “Really?”
“Yeah. Jinnie is still a little wary but that’s because he’s always looking out for us. I think he just needs to get to know you a little more. Namjoon has the hots for you. He keeps talking about you in a dress? But none of us know what he’s talking about.”
And warmer. That outfit is sitting in Jimin’s closet downstairs.
“Jungkook might be a pain but he admires you. He’s not that forthcoming with information, but I think he respects your mission, whatever it is. He thinks you’re actually a really good guy, no matter what anyone says. I agree with him.”
That’s just because you don’t know, Jimin thinks.
“Yoongi told me he’s going to withhold any judgments until he knows you better. He’s always been like that though. He says you can’t really know a person until you know a person, you know? I just said ‘know’ a few too many times…” Taehyung chuckles, then clears his throat.
It’s a little awkward, talking after all this time. “Everyone’s been more welcoming than I expected,” Jimin says.
“That’s good! I told them they better be. You mean a lot to me, after all.”
And… it’s nice. It’s nice to be vouched for. To be believed in so strongly, it doesn’t matter that Taehyung doesn’t actually know him anymore. It doesn’t matter that he’s done bad things and intends to do more. Jimin never knew what it would be like to have someone wholly on his side. It makes him almost… hopeful for what’s to come.
Like, maybe after he’s killed her, he’ll still have something to live for.
Would he deserve it?
No. Maybe not.
But Jimin thinks he’d like to chase after it anyway.
🔥
Over the next few days, Jimin establishes a routine. He wakes up, heads to the gym, then steals some of Jungkook’s protein powder—which he just discovered exists—to make himself a shake. After showering, he finds Jungkook if he’s around to go over more transcripts before sitting down for lunch.
He learns how unusual it is for everyone to be at the apartment at the same time. The heroes work shifts and have their own government-bought apartments in another part of the city, where they often stay when work piles up. Yoongi has a pretty demanding day job as a producer, so he spends a lot of time either in his room or at studios around the city.
Namjoon has been busy fixing the damage Jimin did to his club, so he’s out a lot of the time for that, or completing tasks as Luna’s right hand man. Seokjin lives at the apartment full time, but he’s in and out a lot, sometimes for days, doing whatever it is a gang leader needs to do.
Jungkook’s the one who spends most of his time at the apartment. He has everything he could want at his fingertips, provided by his boyfriends. He seems like the kind of person who tends to fixate on one thing at a time, and Jimin’s investigation seems to be the latest thing, so he spends most time at home.
That’s how, at long last, Jimin finally gets to see what it is Jungkook has been trying to show him this whole time. In his room, hidden on the other side of a whiteboard Jimin never noticed before, is a crime board. It’s got pictures and news articles and red string, connecting all of the Phantom Arsonist’s most famous targets.
Jimin is a little perturbed by how accurate a lot of Jungkook’s theories are, but more than that he’s also impressed.
“No wonder you found me so easily,” Jimin says, eyes tracing his past. It doesn’t go back very far, only the last couple of years, for which he’s thankful. That was when he began to hunt her in earnest. “I just hope the SSLO isn’t as smart as you.”
“Oh?” Jungkook quips. “Did you just call me smart?”
“Don’t get used to it.”
“I think I could make a difference in helping you find what you’re looking for,” Jungkook suddenly says, sounding so full of passion that Jimin has to step back and look at him. “I mean it. If you just gave me a little more to work with…”
Jimin scoffs. He’s not going to let anyone delve into that part of his past. “You know as much as you need to know.”
“But I can help,” Jungkook insists.
“Yes you can,” Jimin snaps back. “But not in the way you think. This is my battle, Jungkook. My demons, my mission, my vengeance. I’ve already dropped the matter of you taking those transcripts from me. You should be grateful.”
Jungkook glares at him. It feels like they’re fighting at least once a day, never quite able to see eye to eye. He’s just so good at pushing Jimin’s buttons, so good at trying to insert himself in places he doesn’t belong.
“You don’t have to fight it alone,” Jungkook argues.
“Eventually I will.” Once Jimin has finished reading every record Jungkook stole, he hopes he’ll have enough clues to piece together her whereabouts. He’ll be gone after that. Jungkook will not be invited to that battle, not unless he wants to be killed. “This isn’t a game. People are going to die.”
“People like you?”
Jimin doesn’t like that tone, like he’s concerned, like it really matters what happens to him. They’ve known each other all of a week. “Yeah,” Jimin barks back. “I might die. Whoever I’m fighting might die. The people in my way might die. You really want to be in the crossfires of that?!”
Jungkook slams a hand on his crime board. It hits the wall behind it loudly. “I already am! I committed myself to this. I’ve been following you for years.”
It doesn’t make any sense. Why would any sane person obsess over something like this? Jimin’s done absolutely nothing to deserve this. Jungkook’s admiration is misplaced. “You don’t even know me, Jungkook. I’m not a good person.”
“Me neither. I’m not good either.”
Jimin wants to groan in frustration. He thinks he understands Jungkook now, his desire to grow up and fit in and have his own thing. But he doesn’t. He can’t find it. So he latches onto the next best thing, finds someone to admire and emulates them, wants to be just like them.
“Your hyungs would disagree with you,” Jimin says.
“No. You don’t know me either, Jimin. I was a bully.”
“... Okay? And bullies grow up, Jungkook. You grew up.”
“I hurt people.” Jungkook’s hand drops from his crime board. His eyes rove over it for a moment, trailing along red string to get to the very first incident it documents. He points at the news article, which is accompanied by a picture of a burning building. “This was near the high school I went to.”
Jimin perks up, eyeing the building, trying to remember just what it was he was doing there.
“The building was abandoned, so that’s where I’d go to… to beat people up.” Jungkook takes a rattling breath, like all of this is hard for him to say. “I thought because they were bullies, that they’d pick on the nerds or the smaller kids at school, that I was doing the world a favour. I thought I was like…” He chuckles. “Like, the hand of justice.”
Jimin searches Jungkook’s face for any hints that he might be lying. He thought he had him pegged. He thought it was blind admiration egging him on.
“On the day of the fire, I hurt someone so badly that he fell down and stayed down. I still remember how angry I was at him. He’d hurt this kid a year below us, just because he said he liked boys. I was so, so mad. I just wanted to teach him a lesson. But he wouldn’t wake up.”
Oh. Jimin recognises that building now.
“I could have gotten help. I could have called someone and admitted my mistake but instead I decided to save myself. I ran. I ran as fast as I could and I wasn’t going to look back. But then the building shuddered. I- I suddenly knew what was going to happen. It was going to fall and I’d left someone there, and do you know what my first thought was?”
“What?” Jimin asks.
“That at least then they wouldn’t be able to connect it to me. If he died crushed under a building, they would say it was his fault for being there in the first place. I’d be exonerated. The hand of justice… and I was going to let a kid die so I could get away with nearly beating him to death.”
Jimin thinks he knows the rest of the story. He remembers why he was there. Jungkook was wrong. It wasn’t abandoned. One of the scientists who worked in the facility had made a home there; he had a whole lab in the basement, brewing substances to test on unsuspecting Supers now that his high-grade facility was gone.
No wonder he had chosen that location.
Nothing like a high school to find fresh, young Supers to experiment on.
“And then,” Jungkook continues, “You showed up. I blinked and suddenly you were just there. You picked the kid up and brought him to safety. I watched you pat his cheek and check his breathing. I saw you get on the phone, probably to call an ambulance. I saw you do what I couldn’t do. And when the sirens got closer, you just… winked out of existence. Like… Like an angel. A saviour. You saved a life.”
“I killed people that day,” Jimin says. “In the building. It wasn’t abandoned.”
He says it because Jungkook doesn’t know. The news never reported the illegal activities that went on down there, just said there was a crazy arsonist on the loose, attacking buildings for the fun of it, uncaring who might get caught in it.
“I’m sure you had a good reason for it,” Jungkook responds.
Jimin thinks Jungkook is incredibly naïve. He should drop this notion that Jimin is some sort of saviour. Spare him the disappointment when he learns all the things Jimin did to survive.
“You knew I burned the building though. How could you call me a saviour?”
“Because you saved me.” Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, sounding a little fevered, a little frustrated. “I turned things around because of you. You inspired me to be a better person. I turned myself in and got expelled from school but I learned from it. And as I followed your attacks and tried to find a place for myself in this world, I ran into Namjoon. I fell in love. Because of you.”
Jimin shifts on his feet, uncomfortable. Jungkook’s story is crazy, but it lines up with what happened. Heck, he remembers that day, how frantic he had been to find an unconscious kid on the ground. He remembers thinking—maybe he was a Super, and he had tried to run away from the lab.
Maybe he was just like Jimin.
Maybe he was like all those other kids who didn’t make it.
He had to save him, at all costs. He wasn’t going to let another kid suffer the way he had, never again.
Never in his wildest dreams had he thought the kid might be there because of a case of bullying. God. Trust Jungkook to ruin his one act of kindness in this mess. He never had to save him. And if he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have gained himself an inspired follower.
Jungkook wouldn’t be who he is, surrounded by so much love it makes Jimin sick.
It’s all wrong. Everything about this is wrong.
“You would’ve turned things around without my influence,” Jimin says. “I could’ve let the kid die, and you’d have felt so guilty, you would have done something about it. Don’t make me responsible for the choices you made.”
Jungkook looks like a kicked puppy. “I… I thought you would’ve been happy.”
“To know I influenced an aspiring do-gooder?” Jimin says, his smile sarcastic, perhaps even a little mean. He lets it drop, waving his hand at all his crimes, detailed right there. “I’m a villain, Jungkook. I kill people. I was going to kill you. If Tae hadn’t been there, you’d be dead right now.”
Jungkook puffs out his chest, trying so hard to argue against something he has no clue about. “Namjoon says that admitting—”
“Namjoon doesn’t know shit!” Jimin yells. “And neither do you.”
“Why are you so hellbent on being a bad guy?” Jungkook shouts back. The words grate on Jimin’s ears.
“Because that’s what I am!”
“Well I don’t believe that! I think you’ve deluded yourself into believing it. I think you’re just scared!”
“Of fucking what?!”
“Of whoever hurt you!” Jungkook jabs a finger at the crime board. “Do you even know how I managed to connect these fires out of all the ones that happen around the country? Because you don’t have an MO. They don’t all mention the Phantom Arsonist.”
Jimin hesitates, suddenly unsure what Jungkook’s getting at.
“Every news article about it sounds exactly the same. There’s a pattern, and when you see it, you also notice that there is a distinct lack of attention to detail. Almost like someone is trying to cover something up. Something big happened to you. Something bad. Something someone wants very badly to keep hidden. I want to find out what it is.”
Jungkook is serious. He’s so serious that it sends a wave of fear down Jimin’s spine. It’s sudden and unexpected, but suddenly he can’t help but see it—Jungkook, in his quest to chase after Jimin, being killed right before his eyes.
“I needed information,” Jungkook goes on. “I knew whatever I was searching for would be confidential. I knew I needed to find physical records that couldn’t be accessed so easily online. I may have hoped my theft would draw you out, but I did it as much for myself as I did it for you. I chose to fight this battle.”
Because of me, Jimin thinks. And when you die, that’ll be because of me too.
“I want you to let it go,” Jimin says.
“Never.”
“Why? Why is it so important to you to do this?”
Jungkook’s expression is one of stubborn obstinance. He’s made up his mind. “It just is. I’m on your team, whether you like it or not.”
There is nothing Jimin can say to convince him otherwise. He sees that now. “Then die for it,” Jimin spits, hating how he can still see that image of death, hating how much he cares. “If it ever comes down to me saving my own life or yours, I’ll drop yours in a heartbeat.”
With that, he stomps out of there, unable to stand the sight of Jungkook much longer. Because if he continues down this path, it won’t just be red clothes he’ll be wearing. One day it’ll be blood.
🔥
After their fight, things with Jungkook become tense—not that they hadn’t already been. But there’s an extra layer to it now. Knowing that they have a past, as brief as it had been, unsettles Jimin enough that he stops seeking him out.
Though maybe that’s also in part because he wants to stall this investigation. Even if Jungkook reads every transcript, Jimin doesn’t think he can put the puzzle pieces together without his help. There are too many code names and redacted words. Jungkook won’t get far without him.
He ends up spending more time in the gym. He learns to cook a few simple meals when everyone’s out and it’s just him. It’s mostly sandwiches and ramyeon, but it’s better than nothing. He goes over the transcripts Jungkook has already given him, searching for clues he may have missed.
After his talk with Taehyung, the hero begins inviting Jimin to his room to play games or watch movies. He never knew quite how nice it could be to just… hang out. Taehyung even drags an extra bean bag in for him, so they can sit side by side in front of the television.
Once he tries to invite Jungkook, but all it does is make Jimin walk out of there, refusing to play nice with him. Taehyung stops trying to get them to hang out after that.
Hoseok offers to help with some power discovery exercises during Jimin’s third week there, but Jimin doesn’t like the idea. It reminds him too much of the experiments he used to be forced to go through. As nice as Hoseok is, he doesn’t fully trust him. He doesn’t fully trust anyone.
Not even Taehyung, not even after their talk. Jimin doesn’t trust that he’ll still like him once he learns about everything he did. He doesn’t trust that he’ll still want to be around him. But that doesn’t matter as much to Jimin, not when he knows this is all temporary.
Yoongi becomes a regular gym buddy. Somehow they always end up there at the same time. Once or twice they even sit at the kitchen table together after. Jimin learns a bit about his job and downloads a few songs on his phone. Yoongi learns what kind of songs Jimin likes to listen to and offers no shortage of recommendations. Jimin’s phone is starting to run out of space.
Seokjin is out a lot, and as such, Jimin finds he often craves his presence. He brings a sense of calm wherever he goes. He’s reliable. Solid. Always ready with a joke or a smile. He diffuses situations like it’s second nature, turning tense rooms into ones of comfort. When he’s around, Jimin’s apprehension over being around everyone fades. But he’s not around often.
And then there’s Namjoon. He intimidates Jimin, maybe because of the way they first met, as well as that conversation they shared that one time at midnight. Even when Jimin learns how much of a clutz he is, that he might have burned down his own club by accident even without Jimin’s help, he still gives off this air Jimin doesn’t know how to handle.
That’s why he’s so surprised when Namjoon approaches him one afternoon, saying, “What are you doing tonight?”
They’re in the kitchen. Jimin is slicing an apple into quarters for a snack. He’s dressed in joggers and a t-shirt, his feet bare on the marble floor. Ready for another night in.
“Oh, it’s another busy night for me,” Jimin answers. “Lying on the couch, playing a game on my phone, that is, if it doesn’t freeze on me again. Maybe reread my favourite transcripts, count how many animals try to hit on Dolphin.”
Namjoon looks at him like he’s crazy. “So… Nothing, then.”
“Yeah,” Jimin admits with a little annoyance. “Nothing.”
“Join me tonight.”
“What? Join you? Where?”
“To this meeting I have to go to. Jinnie’s nemesis sent some men into our territory the other day, stole some of our customers. I’m supposed to go meet with some of them to settle it before it gets out of hand.”
It sounds like a line out of a comic book. “And you want me with you… why?”
“To show you off,” Namjoon says. He holds up a hand, correcting himself, “To show Mini off. I want you dressed up the way you were when I first saw you.”
Jimin rolls his eyes. “I knew you were still hung up on that. This is just a ploy to see me in that wig, isn’t it?”
“You pull it off so well, Mini,” Namjoon says, sidling up to Jimin. His chest nearly touches Jimin’s arm. He’s so close, Jimin can feel his heat. It makes his heart speed up.
“D- Do I?”
“Is it so bad I want to show my enemies the pretty company I keep? Make them all jealous. I think it would help negotiations too, though that’s secondary to me.”
It’s not like Jimin’s never experienced this sort of talk before. He had a phase, as short lived as it was, when things weren’t working out for him and he ended up in bed with more men like Namjoon than he can count. He had a type. Namjoon… Namjoon was definitely his type.
“Here I thought you hated me,” Jimin says, closing the distance between them. “Now you’re calling me pretty.”
“It’s not my first time either.”
“No.” Jimin’s eyes dip down to look at Namjoon’s lips. “It’s not.” He never noticed before just how enticing they were. Maybe he just wasn’t looking.
Is it Jimin’s imagination? Or is Namjoon leaning in?
Jimin jerks away, busying himself grabbing a bowl for his now cut slices of apple. His cheeks a furious red as he walks towards the stairwell leading down. “What time should I be ready?” he asks.
“E- Eight,” comes Namjoon’s flustered answer.
So the man does get flustered.
Jimin grins, biting into a slice of apple.
That’s good to know.
🔥
“You’ve seen it before. Why are you ogling?” Jimin asks as he steps into the living room, where Namjoon’s waiting. The man cleans up nice. He’s even switched out his usual flannel for a blazer over his t-shirt, and he’s got necklaces on, a cuff in his ear, and rings adorning his fingers.
“It looks better than before,” Namjoon says.
“Maybe it’s just the lighting.”
Jimin had to shave for this. His legs are smooth as a baby’s skin and his dress is so short, it would only take bending over to reveal everything. And it really would be everything, considering he’s wearing a thong. He thinks it might be fun to tease Namjoon with that information later in the night.
“No, you did your makeup a little different,” Namjoon says, walking up to him to peer closely at his face.
Jimin inches backwards. “I don’t have a standard routine, so that must be it. Should we go?”
Namjoon lets the matter drop, glancing at his watch. “Yes, though there’s no real rush. I like being fashionably late.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.”
As Jimin puts on his heels, which he held in his hand before, a gasp behind him draws his attention. He turns back, surprised to see Hoseok there, wearing pyjamas and soft slippers, looking like he just woke from a nap.
“Jimin?”
“It’s Mini tonight,” Namjoon says. “I told you he looked good.”
“Yeah…” Hoseok trails off, staring a little too hard. “You were right.”
Great. Another ogler. “There’s a difference between fashionably late and inconsiderately late, and I think you’re toeing the line between the two a little too much, Namjoon.”
“Right,” Namjoon says. “I’ll see you later, love,” he says to Hoseok, who smiles at the term of endearment before seeing them off and telling them to have fun.
Are they not about to meet a rival gang for stealing their customers? This is work, not fun.
“What do your customers buy anyway?” Jimin asks once they’re seated in a private car. Apparently, gangs provide chauffeurs. “Besides high quality fire gear, of course.”
Namjoon puts on that shit eating grin before saying lowly, like it’s some big top secret thing, “Information.”
“Information is power,” Jimin recites.
“Ding, ding, ding! We have ourselves a winner!”
Jimin rolls his eyes at the theatrics, then sits up when he notices the cooler sitting between the seats in front of them. He points at it. “Does that have drinks?”
“Yeah. Do you fancy one?”
“I haven’t had a lick of alcohol since moving in, so, yes. I very much fancy one.”
Namjoon pops the cooler open, revealing four mini champagne bottles. He grabs one, ever the gentleman charming his date as he opens it for Jimin. “I’m afraid someone took our glasses for washing, so you’ll have to drink straight from the bottle.”
“I’d drink it out of a bowl if that was the only way to have it,” Jimin says, reaching for the bottle.
Namjoon quickly jerks it out of reach. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say please. You rarely ever help with the dishes after group meals, and your thank yous are few and far between. I think this is an opportunity for a lesson, my dear Mini.”
“This is ridiculous,” Jimin says, leaning forward to just grab another bottle.
Namjoon promptly shuts the cooler with a foot, nearly catching Jimin’s hand in it. “Not cool. You shouldn’t rebel against life lessons. I’m a great teacher too.”
Jimin looks at Namjoon coldly, not liking his insinuations one bit. It doesn’t take him long to decide what to do. They’re no longer in that apartment, powerless. Jimin watches Namjoon as he starts to blink, and it’s that moment that his dome erupts around them.
Not even a second later, the bottle is in Jimin’s hand, snatched away from Namjoon without his notice. “Whoa,” Namjoon says, wide eyes on his empty palm. “Fine. You deserve that bottle. That was fucking cool.”
Jimin can’t help himself. He smiles.
They reach the meeting place not thirty minutes later. The club is in Gangnam, hidden in a small alley perpendicular to a brightly lit street. Namjoon holds his hand out for Jimin to grab as he steps out of the car. And though Jimin’s only one mini champagne bottle in, he’s a little buzzed, so he takes it.
When they enter, it’s not busy at all. It looks like they’re preparing to open soon, staff running around mopping the floors and dusting the counters. The main room is bathed in bluish light, making it feel like he’s underwater. Jimin doesn’t get much time to marvel though as he’s led to a room in the back.
Namjoon knocks three times, waiting for someone’s call of “come in” before twisting the knob.
Inside is what looks like a private lounge area. There’s a long couch along one wall and some smaller ones spread out around tables. In the centre of the room is a pool table, where a game seems to be in full swing already. A television is propped up in one corner near the ceiling, playing some sport someone here must like.
There’s even a private bar, one woman who looks like an employee standing behind it. This is where Namjoon brings Jimin first, after he’s exchanged greetings and introduced his date, ‘Mini’.
“She’s gorgeous,” someone named Hwan says.
Namjoon looks at Jimin with a questioning eyebrow. “He.”
“He,” Jimin confirms.
“You always find the best dolls,” Hwan tells him.
Jimin might have complained about Namjoon ogling, but that was mostly a joke. The way Hwan stares at him and the way he talks about him, however, sets him on edge. If he fucking tries to touch him, Jimin will slice his hand off. He’s got a garter belt on, a very small but deadly knife tucked into it, and he’s not afraid to use it.
“He’s mine,” Namjoon asserts, draping an arm around Jimin’s shoulders as he leads him the rest of the way to the bar. He looks at Jimin, asking, “What would you like? They’ll make you anything.”
Jimin doesn’t have a wide repertoire of alcohol combinations, so he just says, “Gin and tonic.”
The employee looks at Jimin with a bit of a sneer. Jimin’s about to ask her what her problem is when Namjoon says, “You heard him. Mini wants a gin and tonic, so that’s what you’ll make him. Or do you not know how?”
With a huff, the employee gets to work. Jimin receives his drink in no time at all, and Namjoon ushers him to the long couch, taking a seat. Jimin lets himself fall into the curve of Namjoon’s arm. In a place like this, it feels right. (The way Namjoon carries himself, the way he spoke to that waiter, that felt right too.) Jimin sips his drink happily.
“Shall we get to it then?” Namjoon says.
Hwan opens his arms. “Come now, why is it always business with you? How about we play a friendly game of pool?” He must be the main negotiator of the group. A right hand man like Namjoon? Or the gang’s boss? Jimin would bet on the former. He doesn’t seem smart enough to run a gang.
“Mini will get cold without me here,” Namjoon says, his hand cupping Jimin’s shoulder.
Oh? Is Namjoon trying to shoot his shot? Here? In this bar full of gangsters? Jimin bats his eyelashes at Namjoon innocently. “No I won’t. The alcohol will keep me warm. You should play.”
Namjoon obviously hadn’t expected that. He bristles but collects himself quickly. “Fine. We’ll play.”
Jimin gets bored fairly quickly. A woman who was playing pool before sits next to him and tries to make conversation, asking where he got his dress and his heels etcetera, and Jimin quickly drains his drink to excuse himself.
He’s back at the bar when his ears pick up that negotiations have started. It begins when Hwan mentions Namjoon’s burned down club. “Really, a shame what happened to Moonchild. Even I went from time to time. Paid big bucks to get into VIP, and we offer similar services here.”
“The Phantom Arsonist targeted my club. I’d say that’s actually good for business. We’ll be back on our feet in no time, probably with more customers than we had before,” Namjoon says easily. He doesn’t even look Jimin’s way when he says that. Does he really mean it?
Jimin leans back against the bar, bringing the straw in his drink to his lips.
“What’s not good for business, however, is your guys coming to our jurisdiction trying to get our customers and informants to turn.” Namjoon’s smile has dropped. He really is all business. For some reason, it surprises Jimin. The guy hasn’t even had a single sip of alcohol, and Hwan is on his third glass—since they got here.
“You took a blow when the fire hit, no matter how you wanna spin it. I’m just trying to make sure business continues to run smoothly.”
“Bullshit,” Namjoon says. The word is vulgar but his tone is calm. “Don’t fucking pretend like you’re trying to help. Luna’s pissed. He wanted to come here himself but I told him, let’s deal with this peacefully.”
The idea of Luna, Seokjin, making an appearance must be terrifying because Hwan is suddenly asking, “What do you want?”
Namjoon doesn’t waste a second to answer. “A gang-wide ban preventing any member of your gang from entering our jurisdiction ever again. Oh, and ten mil.”
He says it like it’s nothing. Jimin feels hot watching Namjoon speak, his cheeks warm and a hint of arousal tingling in his gut. He sucks on his straw to draw in the cold liquid, but it’s not long before he’s sucking on air.
As he turns around to ask for another drink, Hwan erupts behind him. “You’re fucking kidding me! A ban? For what? Stealing one or two of your customers? You realise they made the decision all on their own.”
“I know how your gang works,” Namjoon says. “Fear tactics and coercion. They didn’t have a choice.”
“You have no proof.”
“Doesn’t matter. We can put the ban into effect without your permission. I’m here as a courtesy.”
“Boss is gonna kill me,” Hwan says.
“How is that my problem?”
Shit. Jimin thinks his dick just twitched. Namjoon looks so… so incredibly hot like this. He’s all of Jimin’s fantasies rolled into one. Bigger, taller, stronger, a smart talker, confident, goofy and intimidating. Jimin thought that last one was scary, but now he sees it never was—at least, not when it’s not aimed his way.
He hasn’t needed to be fucked by a cock so badly in a long time.
“You have an unfair advantage,” Hwan argues, but it sounds feeble even to Jimin’s ears.
“We play with the cards we’re dealt, Hwan, that’s how it’s always been. You don’t want a gang-wide ban? Then how about you offer me something else?”
They’re standing on opposite sides of the pool table. Jimin has a clear view of Namjoon’s face but not Hwan’s. And the more Namjoon talks, the more Jimin’s mind runs wild. Namjoon deciding this whole thing is stupid and yelling at everyone to leave. Namjoon picking him up by the ass and spreading him on the pool table. Namjoon sinking a finger into him and—
“We’ll give them back,” Hwan says, interrupting Jimin’s thoughts. “Hm? How about that?”
Namjoon’s hands clench over the side of the table. “You’ve already cost us millions of dollars.”
“Then we’ll give you something we know. About an up and coming hero. You’ll want to know about this one. It’s exclusive information, just for you. For free!”
Namjoon’s fists start to loosen. “It better be for free.”
“No ban?”
“No ban. But the info… It’s gotta be good.” Namjoon grabs the white ball with a hand, a cardinal sin in pool, and aims it straight towards the eight ball. The balls clack, and the eight ball sinks into a pocket. It’s the last one to go in. Jimin barely even remembers them playing at all, too focused on Namjoon as he was.
“Luna will be here to collect it tomorrow,” Namjoon says as he his pool stick on the table. He walks to Jimin, taking his empty—empty?—glass from him and setting it down. His hand curls around Jimin’s own, their fingers slotting together. It sends Jimin’s heart into a frenzy. “Let’s go, Mini.”
Jimin follows Namjoon out, nearly tripping over his own feet as they cross the empty dance floor. He falls into Namjoon’s arm, giggling uncontrollably.
“How much did you drink?” Namjoon asks, though he sounds more amused than anything else.
Jimin waves a hand. He’s very pleasantly buzzed, but far from drunk. “Not much, don’t worry. I’m just not very good in heels after a couple drinks.”
“Well then.”
Suddenly Jimin’s world is tilting. He shrieks as Namjoon lifts him bridal style, immediately wrapping his arms around those shoulders. “Give a guy a warning before you do that!”
“I did,” Namjoon says.
“‘Well then’ is not a warning.” He adds “Dumbass” under his breath as they exit the club.
Namjoon laughs. He opens the car door and sets Jimin down gently inside. “Did you really just call me a dumbass? After one of my most successful negotiations?”
“I dunno about that,” Jimin says, leaning up to press a finger to Namjoon’s chest as he starts to climb into the car. Jimin’s finger does jack shit to stop him. “Sounded to me like you missed a chance at ten million dollars.”
Namjoon seats himself comfortably, Jimin in the middle seat and him against the door. He shuts this loudly. “Uh-uh, Mini, see, that’s where you’re wrong. Information like what Hwan just promised is once in a blue moon. Worth billions if you sell it to the right people.”
Billions? Billions?
It hits Jimin then, the very thing they were discussing before entering the club. “Information is power.”
“Ding, ding, di—”
Jimin doesn’t let Namjoon finish his bells of congratulations. He surges forward, lips slamming on lips, every ounce of inhibition swept away by Namjoon’s suave manner and brilliant intelligence. Fuck, he’s so turned on, he’s pretty sure the driver can see it, and he’s separated from them by a thin divider.
His heart leaps when Namjoon kisses him back with just as much urgency, like maybe he’s been waiting for this too. Maybe this was his plan all along, to charm Jimin into spreading his legs. If so, he’s succeeded on two fronts tonight. Jimin is a weak, weak man.
“Are you sure you’re not drunk?” Namjoon asks as Jimin noses at his neck, tongue snaking out to taste him. “B- Because I don’t want to take advantage of you. F- Fuck.”
Jimin sucks a hickey there, unable to help himself, only pulling back to say, “I’m perfectly in control of my actions. My tolerance isn’t that shit.”
“Well then.”
Jimin cocks an eyebrow tauntingly. “Are you gonna pick me up again?”
Namjoon chuckles, eyeing Jimin up and down. One of his hands finds purchase on Jimin’s bare thigh, squeezing. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Jimin is already leaning into Namjoon’s space again; his actions may be his own, but his inhibitions have been stripped bare. “Yeah, fuck, yeah.” He stares at Namjoon’s lips, not even trying to be subtle about it. “Namjoon, you’re so hot. Why’d you never tell me how hot you are?”
The hand slithers upwards just a bit, dangerously close to Jimin’s crotch. “Thought it was obvious.”
Jimin kisses him again, savouring it more this time. Namjoon’s other hand finds its way to his hair, touching his long locks with a gentleness Jimin wouldn’t have expected. Jimin’s thighs press together, his cock thickening and making everything feel tight.
“Mini,” Namjoon says against his lips. “Jimin.”
Jimin just hums in question, tongue swiping along Namjoon’s upper lip. He hears him suck in a rattled breath. A second later, he’s lightly nudging Jimin off of him.
“Is this… Do you want…”
The unfinished questions just serve to confuse Jimin. “What?”
“Do you wanna fuck?”
If Jimin wasn’t loosened by the alcohol, he might’ve choked at how direct the question is. “Thought that was obvious,” he says.
Namjoon doesn’t hide how affected he is by the response. He keeps looking at Jimin like he wants to eat him up and there’s a tent in his pants giving away his arousal. But he shakes himself, removing his hand from Jimin’s head to reach into his pocket. “Okay. Okay, wait a second, I need to…”
Jimin watches on with some impatience. “Why wait?” he asks, reaching out with a single finger to drag along Namjoon’s bulge. “Do you not want this?”
“I do,” Namjoon says, hips bucking up against Jimin’s finger. “Just… Just need to let my boyfriends know.”
Oh. Right. That. Jimin recoils like he’s been burned.
“I mean!” Namjoon says quickly, eyes darting up in a panic. “They know. They know it’s a possibility. They know I want you. We’ve talked it out already. I have their blessing.”
Oh? Jimin’s finger returns tentatively, and Namjoon looks at him so intensely that Jimin feels like he may just drown in those eyes.
“I just… I need to tell them it’s happening now,” Namjoon says.
Jimin didn’t notice before, just how considerate Namjoon is. It has him even more desperate to hang off his cock. Turning his hand over, he squeezes him through his pants, making the man moan.
“Hot, smart and a gentleman,” Jimin mumbles, even more attracted to Namjoon now. “Ding, ding, ding. I think I found myself a winner.”
Notes:
some things are moving forward and some things back hehe. i'm a bit nervous about this chapter but i loved writing it too, it just flowed out and felt right and i hope you all like it too!! i'd love to hear your thoughts if you have any :D
Chapter Text
Jimin wakes up tangled in Namjoon’s blanket, wearing one of Namjoon’s t-shirts and nothing else. Last night… Last night is a heated blur. The urgency with which they went from car to bedroom to naked has it all blending together in a jumble.
His clothes are strewn on the floor. His wig lies discarded on the desk, along with the knife that had been strapped to his thigh. Namjoon had raised an eyebrow at it after removing the dress.
Did you think I wouldn’t protect you if something went wrong?
The words were so, so cheesy, but in the moment, Jimin loved it. Big, bad Stealo would have protected me? I feel special.
They didn’t talk much after that. Namjoon went down on him, working him open until he was begging for his cock, at which point both of them were desperate for a release. Afterwards, Namjoon offered for Jimin to stay, so he used his bathroom, opened a pack with a spare toothbrush, removed his makeup, his wig, accepted a t-shirt and promptly fell asleep.
Now Jimin’s still here. He can hear Namjoon in the bathroom taking a shower, singing a soft tune that sounds purposely offkey. Stifling a laugh, he sits up and glances around the darkened room, the only evidence that it’s daytime the light peeking out the sides of the blinds.
As far as bedrooms go, Namjoon’s is pretty bare. The only decoration is the potted plant he has in the corner and the row of bonsais on the windowsill. It’s pretty clean too, except for the clothes they left on the floor last night.
There’s a framed picture on the bedside table of the six members of Bangtan, all of them smiling as the sun shines brightly on them. It looks like it was taken at a small stretch of beach. Namjoon and Jungkook have their shirts off. Hoseok is wearing a pair of sunglasses. Taehyung has a towel around his neck, Yoongi is barefoot, and Seokjin holds a flamingo floatie beneath an arm.
Jimin spends a little while looking at this, several different feelings rushing through him at once. Part of it is fondness. They all stand close to each other, after all, no one left untouched, whether by a hand or an arm or a shoulder. But another part is envy. What they have must be special. The happiness on their faces says it all.
It’s not that Jimin wants to fit into that. He doesn’t think he would have a place amongst them anyway. This whole thing with Namjoon is a temporary thing, even if he never said those words aloud last night. It’s just that he wishes… longs for… something. There’s an emptiness inside him, and it aches to be filled.
“We took that six months ago.”
Jimin jumps away from the photograph, glancing up to see Namjoon framed in the bathroom doorway. His hair is wet and there’s a towel wrapped around his waist. Jimin’s already seen him in all his naked glory yet somehow he looks even more handsome now. He heads to the closet, pulling it open and peering inside as he speaks.
“Jungkook was the latest addition to our crew. I met him a little over a year ago. He was…” Namjoon chuckles, pulling a shirt on and covering his well defined torso. “Well, you can ask him. Anyway, I invited him to my club. He really hit it off with everyone so we asked him out. A few months later, he was moving in. We went to the beach to celebrate.”
It occurs to Jimin how little he’s heard about their relationship. Though it was obvious from the start that they were all together, Jimin never really let himself imagine how it all came to be. In his mind, they just were— are— always have been.
“You knew him a few months and asked him to move in, just like that?” Jimin asks.
“Most of us didn’t know you till a few weeks ago and you’ve moved in,” Namjoon responds teasingly.
“Yeah but I’m staying in your guest room.”
“You could take the spare bedroom up here if you’d prefer.”
Jimin scowls, suddenly irritated. It’s obvious that Namjoon doesn’t understand the situation. There is no place for Jimin here. As soon as he has what he needs, he’s gone. “You do realise I have plans outside of this place? Things to do, places to be. My stay here is temporary.”
If Namjoon is perturbed by the information, he keeps it well hidden. “I’m very well aware.”
“I haven’t moved in,” Jimin emphasises.
“Alright then.” Namjoon steps behind the closet door, and Jimin sees his towel fall to the floor. His cheeks burn as he thinks about Namjoon naked behind there.
“This is a one time thing,”
Namjoon pokes his head out from the closet as he steps into underwear. Jimin thinks he catches a glimpse of his bare bum for a second before it disappears. He wears a smile on his face. “Understood.”
Jimin grits his teeth. He doesn’t think Namjoon does, not at all.
When he next comes into view, he’s wearing jeans and holding a pair of shorts in his hands. This, he tosses Jimin’s way, saying, “You can wear this before heading downstairs. I figure you don’t want to put your dress back on. Avoid the walk of shame.”
Jimin holds the shorts up in front of him, certain that it won’t fit. Then he frowns Namjoon’s way. “It wouldn’t be a walk of shame since I’m not ashamed of what happened.”
That’s a smirk on Namjoon’s face, Jimin’s pretty sure. “Okay.”
Jimin watches Namjoon stride to his desk, opening a drawer to grab his wallet and a set of keys. He puts both in his pocket, patting them while he stares at nothing as if trying to figure out if he needs anything else. He points at the ceiling after a second, then walks back to the bathroom. He returns with his phone.
“By the way,” he says, staring at the screen as he towel dries his hair. “Jin wants to have a group meeting later today.”
“Okay?”
“We’re meeting in the living room.”
“I rarely go in there anyway,” Jimin says. “I’ll just chill in my room.”
Namjoon gives Jimin a look as if to say, are you stupid? “No. You’re coming to this meeting. We’re having it because of you.”
“What? Why?”
“Because we slept together.” Namjoon says it like someone would recite what they ate for breakfast. As if it’s not a big deal.
And it’s not.
It’s really not.
But Jimin feels a little hot under the collar and he’s suddenly hyper aware of the fact that he hasn’t got any underwear on beneath the blanket. And Namjoon’s just standing there, hair half wet and shirt too tight for his chest and thighs that could probably crush him.
“Let’s say around… 5pm? Everyone should be home by then,” Namjoon says.
Jimin lets out a laugh of disbelief. “I don’t really want to talk about it with everyone.”
“But this is what we do. Something like this happens and we talk.”
“I never agreed to that.”
Namjoon purses his lips like he’s considering what Jimin’s saying. “I mean… I don’t want to force you to, but if not with everyone, you need to talk to me, at least. I’m in a relationship with five other people. Things get complicated if you don’t talk.”
“It’s not,” Jimin fires back. “It’s not complicated. This won’t… It won’t ever be anything. I’ll be gone soon enough.”
Something flickers across Namjoon’s face. It looks almost a little… sad… but it disappears before Jimin can really define it. “A one time thing,” Namjoon says, repeating Jimin’s earlier words.
“Yes. Unless…” Maybe because Jimin still feels so hot and bothered by him, images of the night before appearing in his mind’s eye, of Namjoon calling him pretty again as he buried himself inside him. “Unless we keep it casual. I’d… be okay doing it again if it’s casual.”
Namjoon laughs, dropping his hands in his pockets. “I’m not not up for it, but you know, I do really like you.”
It feels strange, being on the opposite end of such a clear, direct statement. Jimin’s heart flutters just from hearing it, and that’s even stranger.
“I’ll have to think about it, Mini,” Namjoon ends up saying. “I’ll go to tonight’s meeting alone, since you’ve already told me what you want. Something else you should know though… I’m not the only one interested in you. I wouldn’t be surprised if one of the others tried to pursue you in earnest after this.”
Oh? Pursue him? It all sounds so… serious. “They shouldn’t,” Jimin says. “I’m only interested in—”
“Casual,” Namjoon finishes for him. “I got it. I’ll make sure they know.”
Yeah.
Casual.
That’s all Jimin’s interested in, and he’ll make damn sure that nobody changes his mind.
🔥
Jimin’s fighting a different sort of demon today. He strides to the bedroom door, then walks away, then walks back, goes as far as touching the doorknob, before backing away again. He groans loudly in frustration. Angry at himself, he tugs the door all the way open and steps out.
Silence. He glances at the ceiling as if that might help him see what’s happening up there. All he knows is they got finished with their group meeting about two hours ago. Their loud, boisterous voices had echoed down the stairwell, warning Jimin of their presence. He decided it was a good thing, so he could avoid seeing any of them.
Why he’s so uncomfortable about it, he’s not sure. After leaving Namjoon’s room this morning, he came straight downstairs to shower and change. Then he grabbed a quick meal, eating it in his room. He spent the rest of the day watching videos on his phone, but even that had been an awful experience because his phone kept freezing and shutting off. It’s on its deathbed, Jimin thinks.
Eventually he started getting hungry again. And bored. It’s closing in on 8pm now. He should just get it over with and eat already. There’s no way anyone’s still up there, and if anyone is, he’s a big boy. He can handle it.
Except he knows they spent an hour talking about him. He knows Namjoon relayed his message about keeping things casual and the thought of all of them knowing is making him feel all sorts of uneasy.
This isn’t him. This… This scared, nervous person who can’t stop thinking about what others think of him—
Jimin lets out a sharp breath and starts walking. He doesn’t let himself stop. He goes and goes until he’s reached the stairs, and then he climbs them, ears peeled for any hint of sound, any clue that someone might still be in the dining or kitchen areas, but there’s nothing. There’s nothing so he must be safe.
He walks past the dining room and through the double doors to the kitchen, about to head straight to the refrigerator when—
His feet freeze.
Sitting at the kitchen counter, spoon hanging from his mouth, is Hoseok. He looks wide-eyed at Jimin like a deer caught in headlights, just as frozen as Jimin’s feet. Perhaps neither of them expected the other to be there.
Hoseok is the first to recover. “I was craving something sweet,” he explains while setting his spoon back into its bowl. Ice cream lays half melted inside it. Hoseok turns the screen of his phone off, which had been perched on its side against a glass of water. “How are you?”
It’s a relatively normal interaction as far as interactions go, so Jimin pulls himself together. “Fine. Just hungry.”
“We missed you at dinner.”
“I ate a big lunch.”
Hoseok hums in acceptance. Of all the members of Bangtan, he’s the most gullible. Jimin almost feels bad for lying. “We actually set some aside for you. Middle shelf in the fridge. There’s a plastic covered plate.”
Jimin opens the fridge and, as Hoseok said, there’s a plate piled with meats and veggies and rice. He pulls this out, unsure if he should feel grateful or… pursued. Because they could have an agenda with all this, right? If Namjoon’s to be trusted and multiple of them are actually interested.
Since Jimin can’t guess the intentions behind the extra food, he says nothing about it, just puts it in the microwave, hits a few buttons, and waits. He should have brought his phone as a buffer, especially when he sees Hoseok turn his way.
“So…” There’s something too mischievous about his tone. “Did you have fun last night?”
And there it is. They’re going to talk about it, whether Jimin likes it or not. He decides to busy himself grabbing utensils and a glass of water while considering his answer. What is he so afraid of anyway? Why does he care what they all think?
“Yes,” he ends up saying, trying to sound as confident as possible.
“Good.” Hoseok offers him a friendly smile. “Namjoon’s a really good guy. He acts all strong and intimidating because he had to growing up, but he’s really just an overgrown teddy bear.”
The words give Jimin something to think about. Just what about Namjoon’s life led to him needing to be strong? He’s the sort of guy who has all the answers, who knows his worth and has confidence in the things he can do. Jimin’s had that impression of him since the first time he laid eyes on him. There’s more to his story though, something he doesn’t know, and he hates that he wants to find out.
“How long have you known him?” Jimin asks, not making eye contact and keeping his tone as disinterested as possible. This is nothing more than small talk.
“About a year and a half,” Hoseok says, scooping some ice cream into his mouth. He swallows before speaking again. “He was in some trouble back then and Seokjin helped him out. He stayed in the same bedroom you’re in now actually.”
“When did he… When did you all… I mean…” He’s glad when the ding from the microwave cuts him off. He brings the food to the kitchen island, sitting two full seats away from Hoseok. The hero doesn’t seem perturbed by this at all.
“Well, Yoongi and I have known each other the longest, but we didn’t talk much after I entered a hero programme. That’s actually where I met Tae,” Hoseok says. It’s not really answering Jimin’s half formed question but somehow it’s exactly the information he wanted to know.
“Tae and I kind of had a thing, but we couldn’t see each other much when I was out doing hero things and he was still in school. Yoongi and Seokjin were the first ones to get together officially, and after I made my debut as a hero, I reached out to Yoongi. I didn’t know anyone else in the city and I figured he was a good place to start making friends.
“He surprised me when he brought Jin with him when we met, but we got along so well, they asked if I was available before the night was over.” Hoseok laughs at the memory like there’s more he’s not saying. Jimin is barely eating, too focused on the story. “Taehyung slipped into our little trio really fast after that. We video chatted all the time and he met them there. During a break, he visited and that was that. He wanted in with us officially.”
That sounds like Taehyung. What he wants, he gets.
“Then Namjoon came along. He was this well known thief. He mostly did it to survive, but sometimes he took on odd jobs… dangerous jobs. Long story short, someone got hurt because of him, and he could have gone to jail or worse, so he turned to his connections in the underground. That’s when Jinnie stepped in. He likes helping those down on his luck.”
Jimin wonders if Seokjin thinks he’s down on his luck, because he’s not. He’s just a little stuck, but once he has the clues he needs, he’ll be on the road again.
“While Jin dealt with things, we got to know Namjoon. He wasn’t very receptive at first. I think he thought he didn’t deserve our time of day, considering what he had done…” Hoseok clears his throat. “You get it though, right? Sometimes we can only see the worst in ourselves, and anything good that happens seems… temporary.”
Jimin narrows his eyes at the choice of words. He thinks Hoseok flinches a little beneath his gaze, and he hurriedly starts talking again.
“We changed his mind though. Jinnie gave him work to do, and eventually he opened up. He’s the one who met Jungkookie first. We were all pretty smitten with him right away. He’s got that kind of energy, you know? Young, a little naïve, but really smart too when you least expect it.”
Jimin almost agrees out loud. Definitely smart. Definitely extremely naïve too. In the end he keeps his thoughts to himself. He doesn’t want any of these guys to leave an imprint on him. They’re just… guys he’s staying with for a short while, nothing more.
“That was a really watered down version, but that’s more or less how we got together,” Hoseok says. “We have to keep our relationship a secret from the public, but we don’t really mind. We’re happy here. Jinnie bought this place after what happened with his dad, and he used to say it felt cold and empty. It’s not like that anymore though.”
Hoseok smiles, then looks down, seeming to remember he still has some ice cream left, though most of it is already melted. He scoops the rest up into his spoon, finishing it while Jimin picks at his food, thinking.
Thinking that he understands them all a little better now. Thinking that he’s not the only one with a story, even if he hasn’t quite scratched the surface of anyone’s. There’s Jungkook—a bully. Namjoon—a thief. Seokjin—the head of a notorious gang, who just wants to help people.
Hoseok and Taehyung must come from well to do families, that or their powers were significant enough from a young age that they were recruited into a hero programme. Jimin never did find much out about Taehyung when they were kids. Or maybe he’s just forgotten.
What about Yoongi? Jimin doesn’t know what to think about him. A Super who hides his powers. Even villains have their powers recorded somewhere, despite working independently of the government. But civilians with powers like Yoongi’s, choosing to remain hidden? It’s unusual. Jimin wonders just how he managed that.
“I heard…” Hoseok starts, cheek resting on a palm, “that you and Jungkook got into a fight?”
Right, the entire reason Jimin’s investigation has stalled. “Yeah, but it’s not a big deal.”
“He was feeling pretty bad about it. I sense he wants to apologise.”
And he should. He should apologise and then back out of this investigation like Jimin asked. He’s still mildly irritated by the whole thing, although not overwhelmingly so like he was when they were actually fighting. He still hasn’t quite deciphered his feelings during that time; it’s easier to avoid it.
“I don’t really care if he does,” Jimin ends up saying. “As long as he continues to be cooperative.”
Hoseok hums. There’s no more reason for him to stay, his dessert depleted. Shouldn’t he just… go? Why is he lingering around? Jimin takes another bite of food, swallowing uncomfortably.
“May I ask you a question?” Hoseok finally says.
Jimin glances at him, shrugging. “Okay.”
Hoseok surprises him by moving one seat closer—just one, but it’s enough to have Jimin’s hackles rising, unused to so much attention in such a domestic setting. Is it wrong that he just wants to eat his food in silence and retreat to comfortable solitude?
“What sort of things do you like to do?”
It’s not exactly the question Jimin was expecting. “Um… I don’t know.”
“I just only ever see you in the gym training or reading transcripts, but I don’t think I know what you enjoy doing? For fun?”
How does one even answer a question like that? Jimin almost wants to say ‘sex’ just because it’s still on his mind, and it was fun, and in the past it had been a good pastime when he needed a distraction from his tasks at hand. But it also feels inappropriate to say that to someone who might be trying to pursue him.
So he decides to play it safe and says, “Nothing.”
It turns out that was the wrong thing to say, because now Hoseok just looks concerned. “I get you have things to do, but you should still rest and enjoy yourself when you can. There’s really nothing? Playing games? Karaoke? Reading books?”
Jimin says the first thing that comes to mind. “I’ve never been to karaoke.”
“Never— what?! That’s just— That’s not right.” A thoughtful look comes over Hoseok’s face. “You have to go. It’s basically a right of passage. I’ll take you myself if you let me.”
The thought of doing something like that puts Jimin on edge. “I’m not really interested.”
“In karaoke or going with me?”
“In…” Jimin finds himself staring a little too hard at Hoseok, unsure what he’s actually feeling. He shakes himself. “Both,” he blurts.
Hoseok visibly deflates. “Oh.”
Now Jimin just feels bad. He wants to explain that all of this is new to him, but he doesn’t know how to. He’s… ashamed that he’s so bad at this—at this whole conversing and hanging out thing. No amount of time spent in Taehyung’s room helps either, because he doesn’t really do anything; he just lets Taehyung take the lead. It’s easy because they used to be friends.
But he doesn’t know Hoseok, not really.
He should ask him something. It seems like the right thing to do. Maybe it would help dampen the strange guilt swirling through him right now. Hoseok may be a hero and work for the people Jimin hates, but he’s a nice guy. Jimin knows that much is true.
But the moment passes when Hoseok moves, hopping off his chair and grabbing his used dish. He brings this to the sink, and for a few seconds, only the sound of running water fills the space. Jimin’s stomach clenches in a mix of nerves and the desire to say something.
This is so stupid. Why does he even care?
The sink turns off, and Hoseok returns to the island to grab his phone, shooting Jimin a small smile. His mouth opens, probably about to bid him goodnight, and Jimin hates this. He hates how much he can’t just speak, how he wants something but can’t even decipher what that something is.
“Um.” The sound leaves Jimin’s throat, making Hoseok pause, staring at him. “I- I… I like listening to music.”
Hoseok’s eyes are wide, but they soften pretty quickly. “That’s cool! I do too. I got into it when I took this dance class? Like, a long time ago. Hero programmes don’t offer dance as an extracurricular though so I mostly did it in my own time.”
Jimin didn’t expect such a long winded answer. He blinks a few times, trying to figure out the intentions behind those words. Should he share something more too? “Cool,” he responds, stalling. “I… My dad used to play music on his laptop and we’d dance together in our room. It was mostly him dancing though. I usually ended up on the bed because I liked jumping on it to the beat of the song playing.”
Too much? While he spoke, Hoseok relaxed against the kitchen island, arms folded over each other in front of him. His eyes seem to sparkle though, something in them that wasn’t there before. Jimin feels exposed beneath his gaze.
“I dance in my room a lot too,” Hoseok says. “It feels kind of silly but I like it. I even copy dance videos online and film myself sometimes. When I’m not doing hero work or hanging out with my boyfriends, that’s what I like to do.”
“Is dance what you would have done if you weren’t a hero?”
Hoseok purses his lips. “Maybe. I think so. It’s hard to say though. I was slated to become a hero from the time I was five years old, so it’s not like I ever thought about doing anything else. I’m happy I get to dance at all in my free time. I’ve even thought about posting dance covers online wearing a mask. Then no one would know it was me.”
Jimin can feel himself losing track of the conversation. He has nothing to say, nothing to add, that would be worthwhile. He’s never let himself think about what he might have done if he had led a different life. There had never been any other options.
All at once, he feels sorry for himself. Hoseok has everything. He has a good life, people around him who love him, and he does things that make him happy. It’s unfair. She stole his life from him. It’s not fair.
“Hey,” Hoseok says, voice soft. “Would you maybe… want to go dancing with me sometime?”
The question completely throws Jimin’s thoughts off the rails. Suddenly he’s no longer thinking about the injustices he’s been dealt. Dancing? With Hoseok? The idea feels foreign. “You mean, like…”
“I can take you out. Namjoon’s club is still under repair but there are others we can go to in Itaewon. I have some moves, you know. I could show you.” Hoseok raises his eyebrows cheekily. “I think you’d like it.”
“What about the others?” Jimin asks.
“If you want them to join, that’d be fine, but we’d have to rent out a private area. Secret relationship, remember?”
“That’s not what I…” What had Jimin meant by that? His mind turns to Namjoon’s words. He doesn’t know Hoseok’s intentions, if this is all a part of his pursuit. “Would they be okay if I… if we… went together?”
Jimin doesn’t like how the question makes him come across, and he retracts it almost immediately.
“I just meant because you’re a hero and I’m… not.”
“Neither are Jinnie or Namjoon. Besides, you can’t hurt me, remember?”
“Right,” Jimin whispers. He hasn’t rejected the offer. He doesn’t know why, considering just a few minutes ago, he was appalled at the idea of doing karaoke with Hoseok. But dancing in a club… It feels less like hanging out and more like an opportunity. After all, clubs are a great place to find potential, no-strings-attached partners.
Last night with Namjoon has reminded him how much he enjoys letting loose a little. It’s been a long time since he went clubbing. It feels like something he can do. But… with someone like Hoseok? Would he enjoy something like that?
“We could, I guess,” Jimin finally says. “I wouldn’t mind it.”
Hoseok smiles, lifting off from the island. “Then it’s a date.”
Jimin’s jaw drops, but he doesn’t get a chance to answer because Hoseok is already waving him goodnight, retreating to his room like he got exactly what he came for. Even though, Jimin’s mind supplies, Hoseok’s not the one who came out here looking for him. He had just been there.
A thought occurs to Jimin then. Had Hoseok… been waiting for him to show up? After all, he needed to eat, and it was only a matter of time before he emerged from his room to do so.
Jimin grits his teeth, suddenly incredibly irritated.
If he finds out this was all some ploy to manipulate Jimin into going on a date with him, Jung Hoseok will pay. Jimin will make sure of it.
🔥
The next day, Jimin forces himself to be okay with seeing everyone. What happened with Namjoon isn’t even something he’s ashamed of, so why hide? He returns to his regular routine, working out in the morning, stealing Jungkook’s protein powder, and even joining whoever’s around for lunch.
Hoseok is gone, apparently left early this morning for a shift, Yoongi is at work, and Seokjin and Namjoon are… somewhere. Jimin doesn’t find a chance to ask where they’ve gone. That leaves him with Taehyung and Jungkook.
The latter ignores him. So they’re still at odds with each other, even though the entire thing was Jungkook’s fault. Jimin scoffs audibly when he sees Jungkook pointedly not meeting his eyes when he shows up to eat. He really, really hates him.
Taehyung, on the other hand, seems almost shy. He covers it up well enough, exchanging polite greetings and asking Jimin what he wants to eat, but there’s a distance to the way he stands and the way he speaks, like he’s walking on eggshells, afraid of setting Jimin off.
By the time they all settle at the table to eat, Jimin is in a bad mood. He decides that Taehyung’s behaviour stems from a dislike of knowing his childhood friend slept with his boyfriend. Although, Jimin wants to argue, he did have permission. Namjoon wanted to. Jimin’s not trying to steal him or anything.
The words lodge themselves in his chest, and he scowls when Taehyung asks him to pass the soy sauce. Maybe he should have just stayed in his room. Taehyung must notice his mood, because he doesn’t say much while they eat.
To fill the silence, and perhaps let out some of his building anger, Jimin turns to Jungkook. “So? Are we going to continue our investigation, or are you second guessing forcing yourself somewhere where you’re not wanted?”
Hurt flashes across Jungkook’s face as he looks up. Surprisingly, it’s Taehyung who answers for him. “Don’t speak to him like that,” he scolds.
Jimin’s eyes snap to Taehyung. “This has nothing to do with you.”
“Yeah, well, Jungkook’s been struggling enough as it is. The least you can do is be nice. It’s not that hard.”
Unbelievable. Jimin’s been far too patient these last few weeks. “I am being nice.”
“There was nothing nice about the way you just spoke to him.”
“If he has a problem with it, he can tell me himself.” Jimin’s eyes flicker to Jungkook, who’s hunching in on himself, brows scrunched inwards while he looks at his food but doesn’t eat it. “Well?” Jimin calls sharply. “Have I been rude to you? Did you go crying about it to your boyfriends?”
He doesn’t expect the shiny eyes when Jungkook looks up. His usual headstrong demeanour has completely disappeared; in fact, when was the last time Jimin experienced it? Since that nasty fight in front of Jungkook’s crime board, they haven’t interacted much at all. Jimin has refused to talk to him, and Jungkook seemed to want to avoid him just as much.
Taehyung’s glaring at him, jaw clenched tightly, and Jimin doesn’t understand. That fight had been two-sided, hadn’t it? Jungkook wasn’t nice to him either, forcing his motivations down Jimin’s throat as if it should have made him feel good, feel happy, that someone idolised him so much they would die for it.
“Why are you being like this?” Taehyung asks, voice tight like he’s trying to stop his anger from erupting. “I get that you’re upset that he got to those files before you, but he can actually help. He’s being genuine about that.”
“This is so stupid,” Jimin mumbles, hating how Taehyung’s trying to make him feel guilty for something that he wasn’t even a part of. It’s not like Jimin wanted to be here. Didn’t want to work with Jungkook. Didn’t want to stay in some gang leader’s guestroom. Didn’t want the soft smiles or reassuring words. Didn’t want any of it.
“Why, because you don’t like what you’re hearing?”
“It’s fine, Tae,” Jungkook says, voice so soft Jimin almost doesn’t catch the words.
“It’s not,” Taehyung shoots back. “He should know he’s being an asshole to you.”
Jimin can’t define the feeling sitting on his chest. He’s so… frustrated. Annoyed. Angry. He can’t understand why Taehyung is making such a big deal about it; but if he is, then Jungkook must have complained about it at some point, which means it must be a big deal. But why?
It’s like they can’t see what’s right in front of them. Jimin isn’t here as a guest. He isn’t here to make friends or play nice. Why should he, when there are so many more important things he needs to focus on? They just keep getting in the way, over and over again, making him feel things he doesn’t want to feel, remember things he doesn’t want to remember, face things that terrify him—
“I need those files.”
Jimin hates how his voice shakes when he speaks, his emotions like the outer part of a flame, flicking out to burn those unaware. Both Taehyung and Jungkook fall silent, turning to look at him.
“I- I need them,” Jimin goes on. “Jungkook, I don’t care if I hurt your feelings. You’ve been investigating this for two years? I’ve been at it for five. No, even longer than that. Even before— Do you understand what those files mean to me? My dad was running from something with me the moment I was born, and I still don’t know why.”
“This is about the person who kidnapped you,” Taehyung states.
Jimin hates, hates, hates that he told him that. The flame crackles, unstable. “Yes, Tae, the fucking people who kidnapped me and killed my dad. I watched him die in front of me, and you two are having some lover’s quarrel while the people who did this to me are still out there!”
Jungkook looks pale. Taehyung has guilt written all over his face. Jimin barely sees, because the moment he opened his mouth about all this was the moment he lost all control.
“You’ve all been wondering, haven’t you? Just what is Park Jimin after? It’s nothing grand or valiant. I’m no hero chasing for justice, and I’m certainly no vigilante trying to shine light on our country’s corruption. I’m just a nobody looking for the person who killed my dad and fucked up my life, and when I find them, I’m going to kill them!”
He shouts the last word into the room, letting it echo in the silence. When he takes a breath, it’s shaky, ragged as if he’s breathing too fast through a straw too thin. He didn’t mean to say all that. He doesn’t want them to know how small he sometimes feels, floundering in the dark, weighed down by the flame of his emotions, searching for something that doesn’t want to be found.
For some reason, his brain supplies that they’re now going to belittle him. It tells him that they will chide him for letting revenge guide his actions. It pounds into him that they may just let him have the files and usher him out of here so he can do exactly what it is he’s been struggling to do.
And suddenly he doesn’t want that. It hits him so strongly how much he wants to stay that he thinks he might be sick from it.
“What do you know about your kidnappers?” Taehyung asks then.
It’s not at all what Jimin expected him to say. He’s so surprised, he can’t even process it for a few seconds. And then he blinks, trying to snag a breath through that straw, one that will give him enough strength to speak.
He feels burned and tired and weak. It’s probably the only reason he says as much as he does.
“I- I… I know they worked for the government. They were a… a top secret faction. I had a few names but I followed all those leads years ago and they didn’t show me…” where she was. She always escaped him. Sometimes he thinks maybe he’s chasing a ghost; maybe she doesn’t exist; maybe she died in the fire.
“Didn’t show you what?” Taehyung asks gently.
“Who I’m looking for.”
“Who are you looking for?”
Jimin freezes, suddenly faced with reality. It’s so much easier to forgo assigning her any labels. That way, he can pretend she’s just this elusive criminal with no connection to anyone or anything—an all around bad guy who did him harm for no other reason than that she’s wicked.
But it’s more than that. It’s always been more than that.
Oh Jiminie… I found you. I finally found you.
He was twelve years old when he found out. He had spent long enough at the facility that the days blended into one another, but she always reminded him when it was his birthday. The second time she did, he ventured to ask her how she knew.
How do you know when my birthday is?
Not only that, his curiosity was piqued, because she treated him differently than she did the other kids.
Why do you only ever visit me when you come? None of the other kids even know you.
Her smile at the time had bordered on amused. She opened her arms to him, and craving the comfort of another human’s touch, he went to her. Besides, he knew what would happen if he refused. She would become another person, change from this gentle, soothing figure to one who wanted nothing but for him to suffer.
It’s really a shame you were taken before I ever got to hold you. Otherwise, you might have recognised my touch, don’t you think?
I don’t… I don’t understand.
Oh, Jiminie, you haven’t figured it out? Look here.
She turned them both to look at the mirror hanging from the wall, booping his nose with a finger, and then booping her own. In his reflection, he saw his eyes widen in recognition, the similarities suddenly clear.
Do you see now?
Jimin shakes away the memory, fear seizing him in its steel hands. When he first met her, he wanted nothing more than to escape. After a while, he wanted nothing but for her to be who she said she was, all because he had no one else.
He wants to kill her because he can’t accept who he is. He wants to say, I only ever had a father. He was the only person who ever loved me.
But she used to say it too.
I love you.
You’re doing so well, Jiminie.
My son.
“Nobody,” he finally answers, but his voice is shaking and he can barely eat. One day, he desperately hopes that answer will be true.
🔥
That night, there’s a knock on Jimin’s bedroom door. He opens it to see a doe-eyed Jungkook standing there, a stack of files in his arms tall enough to reach his chin. Jimin sees the gesture as a sort of apology, even though neither of them offer the words to one another.
Jimin stands aside to let Jungkook in, and they set themselves up on the bed like always. They don’t exchange quips, no heated or tense words, nothing that might lead to more fits of anger. They just read, mostly silent even though Jimin can see the questions building in Jungkook’s eyes the more information he ingests.
He’s probably putting some of the pieces together. When the transcripts start to involve those ever elusive subjects, it probably becomes apparent. Jimin finds himself equal parts disgusted and fascinated as he takes in what some of the other kids experienced. Some seem so innocent, unaware that they’re just experiments.
Others are aware and take a lot of coaxing, but eventually they talk, explaining how they feel from day to day. Some say how much they hurt. Others say it feels good. Some are eager for more, addicted to the growth of their powers. Some transcripts capture conversations after the subjects have left the room.
It’s fraying her nerves. The more she uses, the worse it gets. I don’t think she’ll last another day.
Sometimes kids would disappear. At first, Jimin naïvely thought they were allowed to go home. They must have done something right, and he wanted to prove himself just as badly. Then one day he overheard someone talking about a kid who passed on, and he realised the truth. The kids weren’t going home. They were dying.
Jimin and Jungkook must read through at least twenty different interviews with the kids that night, but it’s only at the end that Jungkook turns his eyes to him and directly asks, “Were you one of them?”
There’s a part of Jimin that doesn’t know why he’s holding on so steadfastly to the truth. Wouldn’t it be better if Jungkook knew? If he truly wants to help, then shouldn’t Jimin let him in on this secret?
But it feels like airing out dirty laundry. It feels like once it’s out there, Jungkook will see just how broken he really is.
“You don’t have to answer me,” Jungkook quickly adds. He averts his eyes. “I think I already know the answer.”
Jimin’s breath hitches. “Jungkook—”
“I’m sorry.”
Something stirs in Jimin’s chest when he hears the words. “What for?” When Jungkook doesn’t answer, eyes on his lap, he goes on. “Do you feel sorry for me? Do you feel sorry for these kids? They’re all dust now anyway, and I’ll join them one day.”
“Don’t say that.”
What did possess Jimin to say that? But he can’t take back the words, and he means it anyway. He fully expects it; he’s prepared for it. “You keep getting on my fucking nerves,” Jimin mumbles, but there’s no heat behind it. Their eyes meet, and something else possesses Jimin to add, “I wouldn’t be able to stand it if you died because of me.”
It’s probably the closest to the truth he’s going to get, because he can’t admit out loud that he’s scared. He can’t admit that it terrifies him to think how much his actions have impacted someone’s life. He doesn’t want to be the reason someone else dies.
Just over three weeks ago, he was ready to kill Jeon Jungkook.
Now he doesn’t know what to feel. He’s never been so confused, never spent so much time confronting emotions that he used to drown in shadows or alcohol or hunting. He doesn’t know what to do with these thoughts. He feels incredibly out of his depth.
“I’ll be careful,” Jungkook tells him. His usual fire seems to be making a comeback. His eyes shine, desperately trying to convince him. “I won’t die, and neither will you. We can be careful. We’re a team, stronger together.”
The trouble is, Jimin isn’t convinced. “Aren’t you scared? Of dying?”
“I don’t think we’ll die.”
“This isn’t a video game. When you die, that’s it. It’s over. Do you understand that?”
“Yes,” Jungkook says clearly. “Of course. I get it. These kids all died. You could have died too, but you didn’t. You haven’t. You’re strong, but with me, you’re stronger. We can protect each other.”
“I don’t get it,” Jimin blurts, because he truly doesn’t. If not idolised worship, then what else would spur Jungkook to feel so strongly about this? To shoulder this kind of responsibility when it doesn’t directly affect him? “Why risk your life? Why aren’t you afraid? What makes you think I’d protect you?”
The corner of Jungkook’s lip lifts. He chuckles a little shyly. “Gut instinct?”
Jimin lets out a breath of disbelief. “That’s ridiculous.”
“You didn’t kill me,” Jungkook says, more seriously. Jimin frowns. “You could have killed me immediately. You’re faster than Taehyung. You could have slit my throat that night before he had a chance to fly you away, but you didn’t. Why?”
“I…” Why? Why hadn’t Jimin done it? “I was going to. I was about to.”
“I don’t think so.”
“You don’t know what I was thinking.”
“I think you hesitated because you were drawn to me too.”
Too. Jungkook has already admitted that he’s been admiring him since the day that building collapsed. But Jimin never felt the same… right? After all, he knew nothing about him except the fact that he had ruined his plans.
“You’re delusional,” Jimin says, but he doesn’t sound convincing even to himself.
Jungkook draws himself up, inching minutely closer to him on the bed and staring at him head on. “Am I? Or are you just so good at lying, you have yourself convinced you’d kill everyone who gets in your way? Why is Yoongi still alive? Why did you save that boy I injured?”
“That was different,” Jimin chokes out, his thoughts wavering with uncertainty. “The bar was supposed to be empty. The boy wasn’t supposed to be there. But you… I went after you. I wanted to kill you.”
“Then why am I alive?”
“Taehyung, he… he stopped me.”
But he shouldn’t have been able to. When Jimin intentionally killed people in the past, he wouldn’t let them live long enough to see his face. He squeezes his eyes, thinking back to that night and trying to remember why things had turned out so differently. He takes a deep breath, eyes shooting open when he catches a whiff of—
“Flowers,” Jimin whispers.
He remembers the surprise he felt at the realisation, and he can’t believe he forgot. Because beneath the passion for red and the naïvety with which he held himself, Beast had smelled like flowers.
That’s why he hesitated, because of Jungkook’s perfume.
It’s so ridiculous, he can’t stop himself from barking out a laugh. It’s half manic, half incredulous. Things could have been so different. He could have made a permanent enemy of an old friend. Bangtan would have come after him, chasing him until he was felled by their hand, and she would forever remain the woman he never had the pleasure to kill.
“Flowers?” Jungkook asks, staring at him like he’s crazy.
“Your fucking perfume,” Jimin says, leaning in to catch another whiff of it. It’s always there, hovering on the edge of his horizon. He supposes he got used to it these last few weeks, but now that he’s focusing on it, it’s all he can smell.
Jungkook turns his head into himself, sniffing. “I like floral scents.”
“It wasn’t what I was expecting from someone who calls himself Beast,” Jimin mocks.
Jungkook’s lips form an ‘O’, realisation dawning on him. His expression morphs slowly as the gears in his head seem to turn. And then he’s leaning into Jimin’s space, their shoulders almost brushing. Wide eyes search Jimin’s face. “Jimin… do you believe in destiny?”
“What? I… No?”
“Well I do. I think we were meant to meet.”
“That’s stupid.”
Jungkook’s lips turn down in a pout. “Think about how our paths crossed. Maybe you’d call it something else… serendipity? Not a greater force pushing us together but, by chance, things that we went through that allowed us to meet not once, but twice. Coincidences that led to us making the choices we made, like me turning my life around, and you not killing me.”
“What does it matter? It doesn’t mean anything.”
“It does if you let it.”
There’s that innocent look Jimin recognised on Jungkook the first time he saw him, a youthfulness that probably no amount of wisdom or experiences will ever take away. It’s something Jimin is envious of; something that also frustrates him because of all the dangers it might lead to.
Jimin understands his discomfort when it comes to Jungkook now. Something deep inside him doesn’t want him to die, doesn’t want him to hurt, doesn’t want him to follow him down this path of misery. Wants him to hold onto that innocence, if he can.
“To me, it means everything,” Jungkook continues. He licks his lips, and Jimin’s eyes track the movement, watching that tongue dart out and then back in. He blinks, trying to reel in his frazzled emotions. “It means we get a chance.”
Jimin is suddenly hyper aware of how close Jungkook is to him. “A chance… for what?”
“To get to know each other.” Jungkook’s hand shifts where it rests on the bed, and Jimin can’t tell if he did it purposely so their fingers now touch—or if that’s just another coincidence.
But Jimin doesn’t move away, his focus honed in on the words Jungkook is saying like it’s a lifeline. He shouldn’t care, but he does. He shouldn’t listen, but he wants to. He desperately wants to know the thoughts behind that face, the intentions behind those words.
All of it is enough to send his heart into a frenzy.
“I don’t know,” Jimin says dumbly, even as the words sink into him, tying a string around his heart.
He’s never met anyone like Jungkook before. He’s this… anomaly, like a firecracker sometimes, his emotions exploding out of him in short, uncontrollable bursts. But at other times, it comes out like a tidal wave, washing over everything in its path.
“What do you feel?” Jungkook asks.
“I don’t know,” Jimin answers again. He’s not uncomfortable, but it feels warm, like the sun ‘s rays are coating his body. It prickles against his skin, spreading heat down his neck to his shoulders, his arms, down to his fingers where Jungkook touches him.
He looks down now, their fingers not quite intertwined, but it would be so easy to slot them together. His fingers twitch minutely, and he watches as Jungkook takes it further, two of his fingers slipping between two of Jimin’s. Easy.
So why is it so hard? His mind is clouded with the things he has yet to do and the impending end he has mapped out for himself. This… pursuit… or whatever it is can only end in disaster. It can only end in broken hearts and squashed chances. He doesn’t want to hurt Jungkook.
He doesn’t want to hurt any of them.
The realisation is enough for him to say out loud, “I don’t want to hurt you.”
He looks up in time to catch the small smile playing on Jungkook’s lips. “I don’t think you can.”
Not like that, he wants to clarify, but suddenly that’s an incredibly hard thing to confront, and he remains silent instead.
Casual.
He wants something casual. Something fun. He doesn’t want to have to think. He doesn’t want to dissect the emotions welling up in him. It was much easier to be with Namjoon dressed in a disguise, pretending to be someone else. The morning after had been so much harder. He shouldn’t have spent the night.
He shouldn’t be here, with a boy in his room, thinking what it might be like to kiss him.
What’s wrong with him?
The crimes of his captors lie spread out in front of them, and all he wants to do is kiss him.
“Jungkook?”
“Yeah?”
Jimin slides his fingers between Jungkook’s the rest of the way. “Spend the night with me,” he says, leaning into Jungkook’s space. The scent of flowers lingers in the air, drawing him in. “Please.”
It occurs to Jimin in that split second where he waits for an answer that Jungkook is probably the worst person to ask. Someone who wears their heart on their sleeve won’t fare well with ‘casual’. But he’s the one who’s here and with all their talk about chances, who would Jimin be not to take one?
Jungkook must be thinking a similar thing, because he’s nodding before the second has passed. Neither of them waste a single moment as their lips lock in a kiss.
Notes:
a quick note on updates: i'm going to post chapter 7 in two weeks instead of one. while i do know where this story is going, i'm more of a pantser when it comes to character exploration and the journeys they go through to get to that end, and i realised i took a wrong turn in the next chapter which i'll now have to rewrite to fix :') so to give myself time to do that, there won't be an update next week. i hope you understand and thank you for reading!! i'm having such a fun time with this story and seeing all your comments makes it even more exciting :) see you in two weeks <3
Chapter 7
Notes:
hello hello i'm finally back with a new chapter! :D this version of the chapter is much better than the draft i had before so i'm happy i took my time writing it. i swear, after this chapter, that we're going to focus more on the healing part of the journey that jimin and the others are on. i hope you enjoy the chapter :)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The dream comes unbidden, a result of diving into a past he has yet to put behind him.
It erupts in flashes, the intrusion of a syringe in his neck or his arm, the whiplash of his powers expanding and retracting without control, an overabundance of tears and please, no more’s, followed by the comfort of shhh, it’ll be okay’s.
After Jimin learned she was his mother, he developed an interest in her. His young mind learned to ignore the fact that she had killed his father, at least for a little while. He hated the scientists and their experiments and their touchy hands and never ending questions. But with her…
With her, things were simpler. He could relax. She would bring him biscuits and cookies and candies, leaving a smile on his face when nothing else could. Sometimes she lost her temper, but mostly, mostly, she was caring, gentle, loving.
He fell for her honeyed words, latching onto them with a desperation only capable of a love starved child who had lost everything. For a while, in that facility, he looked forward to the days, from time to time even feeling proud to have affection where everyone else did not.
I’m lucky, he would say to himself. Everyone’s alone but I’m not. Mom’s here, and she loves me.
After he escaped, he sometimes thought back to those days with confusion. Her manipulation tactics were obvious, her smile as fake as the lashes she often liked to wear. How he couldn’t see it stunned him and still does from time to time.
Because between the motherliness she doled out were sinister urgings from her lips for him to participate in wilder experiments, to allow himself to burn when he absorbed fire, to allow himself to be caught in darkness long enough for him to forget what it was like to actually see.
And sometimes… a lot of times… influencing him to train against the other kids who had been there their whole lives and didn’t know any better. He should have known better, but he did it anyway. She told him it was so he could learn to protect himself, but in hindsight, it wasn’t survival she was teaching him.
It was the ability to follow orders, to walk away from hurting someone or killing someone without regret. When he battled someone, she would always, always watch. If he succeeded, she would reward him. That’s where his memories are most blurred, but in these dreams, he recalls a sense of… euphoria.
Follow orders, succeed, and fall into a state of bliss. If hurting someone under her orders could feel this good, why shouldn’t he do it? It reinforced the decision to keep doing as told. He became used to it, expected it, longed for it. He was a puppet, she his puppeteer, and the scientists the ones tightening his strings.
Under such a spell of euphoric addictions and motherly comforts, he couldn’t want for anything else. It’s just that, one day, it all stopped. Or rather, she stopped coming. With her disappearance came the end of his rewards—the end of that feeling. No one cared when the itch for what she gave him began to seep in.
He barely remembers the days he resorted to begging. There were a few moments of clarity, of tears that left him shaking, of violence that left injuries in its wake, shocking him into lucidness for long enough to be ashamed. Until it began all over again.
It didn’t matter that she had done him so much harm in the years he had been held there; in those days—weeks—after she left, he couldn’t see it. She was his downfall and retribution. He needed her.
It never occurred to him this might all be a part of their experiment, not back then. But then again, it probably never occurred to them that he might become so desperate, he would cut those strings they tied to him himself.
In that state of utter despair and emptiness, he escaped. There are parts of it he barely remembers, and those are the parts, today, that still haunt him. Because he knows he was the cause of that building burning down. He knows he was the cause of every child trapped in there dying. He knows he killed them.
He knows it, and he accepts being haunted by them for it, on nights like these where his dreams feel more real than reality. He’s sorry. He wishes he could say it to their faces. He’s so, so sorry.
“Jimin?”
His world rocks and he whimpers, a sharp breath leaving his lips. Something clamps down on his shoulder, but he’s trapped in the past, haunted by his actions. He thinks, a big part of why he wants to find her, is not because she took everything from him.
Rather, killing her would be killing the part of himself she created, freeing him from her shackles.
“Jimin, hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.”
The voice is as soothing as hers used to be, and for a moment, Jimin allows himself to pretend she never left him. With her comfort comes the feeling of drifting away, of sweet euphoria. The desire for it has his stomach flipping, and he opens his eyes almost expecting to see her in front of him, holding her arms out to him with a proud smile.
You did so well today, my son.
He snaps to full awakeness as soon as he sees Jungkook’s face hovering over him, looking on with wide, concerned eyes, lit up by the faint light of the lamp on a bedside table. Startled, he jumps away, clutching his blanket to his chest. He’s— He’s shirtless. They both are. Jungkook’s muscular chest and abs are on full display, the blanket bunching up around his hips.
They—
Last night, they—
Jimin’s reality comes flooding back, his cheeks burning with every memory that returns.
Spend the night with me.
Their kiss that led to touches that led to—more. So much more. His heart rattles in his chest as he tries to recall what he was dreaming about. Already it’s fading away, yet he knows it must have been bad if Jungkook felt the need to call for him when it’s clearly still the middle of the night.
“Why are you here?” Jimin asks sharply.
“Just… Fell asleep, I guess?” Jungkook says with a shrug. His eyes take on a look of concern. “Are you okay? You were shaking.”
Jimin looks down at his hands, noticing a slight tremble in his limbs. “I don’t… I don’t remember.”
“Maybe it was a bad dream.”
But Jimin has a distinct feeling it wasn’t just a bad dream he was having.
“Sorry for waking you,” Jungkook goes on, his face shadowed, the glow of the bedside lamp lit up like a halo behind him. “It just… It seemed bad.”
Jimin clutches his elbows. “S’okay.”
How does he tell Jungkook to leave without being rude? Not that he’s ever tried to hide his rudeness before… But after last night, it feels wrong. Whether he likes it or not, Jungkook has made an impression on him, not just because they slept together but because he’s seen so much more than Jimin has ever revealed to anyone.
It makes him feel vulnerable, but it also makes him feel seen. He’s not sure if he’s comfortable with either.
“We should go back to sleep,” Jungkook says. “I’ll turn off the light.”
He turns to do just that before Jimin can protest. The world grows dark, and with the loss of light comes the recollection of his dreams. He shivers while Jungkook settles beneath the covers, his movements jostling the bed.
But Jimin can’t relax. He’s wide awake now, afraid of letting those deeply buried desires surface once more. The closer he gets to her, the more prevalent they become. He wonders if he’s doing the wrong thing, hunting her, chasing after her death. He’s ripping open the seal on his past, and it’s hurtling towards him, ready to snatch him in its grasp.
He thought he would feel empowered, learning more about what happened and getting rid of her once and for all.
He shouldn’t be so afraid.
Why is he so afraid?
It’s so quiet. It’s so dark. His eyes haven’t adjusted and he can’t see anything. That’s what the future feels like; it’s this uncertain thing, just feelings and shadow and dark. The further he travels in it, the more lost he becomes. He fears he may one day be lost in it forever.
“Hey.”
Jungkook’s voice pierces through the darkness, and Jimin flinches when Jungkook’s hand comes in contact with his bare back, knuckles brushing along it.
“You not tired?” Jungkook asks.
God. Jimin shuts his eyes for a second. He’s so tired.
The bed shifts as Jungkook sits back up. Jimin feels his body slide behind his own, hand clutching his upper arm, chin hooked over his shoulder, lips near his ear. “I know we haven’t got off on the right foot… but you can talk to me. And if you don’t want to talk, you can just… rely on me.”
An emotion washes through Jimin so strongly that tears spring to his eyes. What’s wrong with him, that he’s so affected by a bit of reassurance? What’s wrong with him, that he wants nothing but to sink into Jungkook’s words?
“Don’t wanna talk,” Jimin says, even though what he means to say is—teach me. Teach me how to rely on someone, because I’ve forgotten how.
Maybe I never knew in the first place.
Jungkook answers with a kiss to his neck, just a soft pucker of his lips. It’s enough to have Jimin sinking. He turns his head, and Jungkook traces the movement with his lips, up and up until they’re kissing, and for the first time in a long time, the darkness doesn’t feel so scary.
Just a few hours ago, Jimin learned how vocal Jungkook is in bed, not just with his moans but to make sure every step of the way that Jimin was okay. May I? he would ask. Am I hurting you?
But he’s quiet now, acquiescing to Jimin’s one request. He doesn’t want to talk. He doesn’t want to think. He reveals his desires through action, the press of a hand to Jungkook’s shoulder, the grind of his hips on Jungkook’s lap. He doesn’t take his time, yet it’s not a distraction he’s looking for. He doesn’t know how to define this, so he doesn’t try to.
He hovers above Jungkook as he slickens his fingers up with spit, then reaches for his own backside, slipping a finger in, then two. He’s still open from earlier, so he soaks his hand in spit and wraps it around Jungkook’s half hard cock. Kisses him as he brings his tip to his entrance.
For a second, he pauses, staring at Jungkook’s darkened face, his expression unreadable; he can barely see.
But Jungkook seems to understand, because despite all his naïvety, Jimin has learned he’s a careful lover. “It’s okay,” he says.
Jimin lets Jungkook’s cock sink in. He breathes out harshly, kissing Jungkook with more urgency as heat builds in his gut. He slides a hand to Jungkook’s chest, tightening his knees around Jungkook’s waist as he steadily and deliberately rides him to a rhythm of his choosing. His fingers tickle the edges of Jungkook’s throat, and he uses this leverage to pull himself closer.
Kisses him like he’s the only thing that matters in the world. Rides him until his movements turn sloppy. Their tongues intertwine and the heat builds, but it lacks the desperation Jimin usually associates with moments like these.
What he feels is softer. What he’s reaching for is different.
He sinks lower, chest to chest, and opens his eyes to see a dark pair staring back at him, a tether to ground him in a reality that doesn’t feel so scary when not walked through alone.
Their lips join once more as he reaches a climax, his body shuddering through it as Jungkook’s hands firmly hold him down and his presence grounds him. Without prompting, his mind decides to define the moment anyway.
It’s less of a need.
More like a… thank you.
🔥
Kicking Jungkook out of his room should be commonplace by now, but Jimin feels particularly awkward about it when he wakes up. Especially when he finds himself tucked against Jungkook’s shoulder, hand flat against his chest.
He all but jumps out of bed after that. Jungkook stirs from the movement, lightly smacking his lips together. Suddenly it doesn’t matter that they had sex. It was good sex—both times. But he hates how comfortable he got. He hates how he gravitated towards him like a fly to a light. He doesn’t want to get attached.
A small, annoying voice in his head mutters: too late.
“J- Jungkook,” he calls, fumbling on the ground for his clothes. Jungkook looks ready to fall back asleep. “It’s morning. You can go now.”
“Mm?” comes Jungkook’s voice, slightly muffled as he turns on his side, mouth partly pressed against the pillow.
“I said you can go,” Jimin says more harshly. He shimmies into a pair of shorts, grabbing a t-shirt. He can’t believe he woke up like that, all warm and comfortable on Jungkook’s chest of all places. He needs a drink.
“Wh’time is it?” Jungkook mumbles, barely comprehensible.
“Late. Get out of my bed.”
With a groan, Jungkook stretches onto his back, blinking bleary eyes at the ceiling. He glances at Jimin after a moment, who now stands beside the bed, hands in fists at his waist.
“Are you always this grumpy in the morning?” Jungkook asks.
Jimin tries to stifle his irritation but he senses he does a terrible job as he says sternly, “Get. Out.”
Jungkook pouts as he finally, finally climbs out of bed. Thank god he put his boxers back on in the night, or else Jimin’s not sure he could go through the embarrassment. His cheeks are flaming just thinking of the way he crawled all over Jungkook after he was woken from his nightmare.
Scared and vulnerable night time Jimin cannot be trusted around anyone ever again, he silently decides.
When Jungkook has finished dressing in yesterday’s clothes, he lingers by the bedroom door, turning back to Jimin. Something flashes across his face, a twitch of his brow, the slightest downpull of his lips, the widening of uncertain eyes.
“You don’t hate me, do you?” Jungkook asks.
Jimin isn’t sure why it never occurred to him before, but he sees now how much his words might have affected Jungkook. Of everyone, he seems the most insecure—and subsequently the most defensive—when Jimin’s tone turns aggressive and his words harsh. All this time he’s just been hacking away at Jungkook, thinking him annoying and brash.
As soon as Jimin softened his words, Jungkook melted. As soon as he let go of some of his troubles, giving into having fun with Namjoon, or putting in effort with Hoseok, or pulling Jungkook in instead of pushing him away, he felt connected to them in a way he hasn’t felt with anyone since his father died and Taehyung became a part of a past long forgotten.
But even acknowledging that, he can’t find it in himself to reassure Jungkook that no, he doesn’t hate him. In fact, he might like him just a little, might care for him just a bit, and might hate himself a whole lot for being unable to match his actions with the fondness he feels.
Might hate himself for being fond in the first place.
“I just want to be alone,” Jimin says in answer, turning away from those prying eyes.
He doesn’t dare see what kind of expression Jungkook wears as he finally takes his leave. The door shuts softly behind him. Jimin stares at the knob for a few seconds, imagining a different scenario in his head, where he’s not a coward and chases after Jungkook, if not to reassure then at least to explain.
That this is hard for him.
In the end, he busies himself cleaning up. He wasn’t lying when he said it was late. A glance at his barely working phone shows him that it’s almost 11am by the time he’s changed into clean clothes. He heads upstairs to get some food, surprised to find the kitchen occupied by not only Taehyung but Yoongi too.
His phone tells him it’s a Saturday, so it makes sense that Yoongi would be here then, considering he doesn’t work every weekend unless he’s feeling creatively inspired. And since Taehyung usually gets at least two days off from hero work at a time, it makes sense that he’s here too.
Jungkook is nowhere to be seen.
Yoongi nods at him when he arrives but goes back to reading the book splayed in front of him beneath a large hand. Taehyung says a quick “morning” and then proceeds to stare. Even after Jimin has returned the greeting and moved to the cupboard to grab a bowl and cereal, he can feel his eyes on him.
Maybe Jungkook told on him again. It’s a big thing, he thinks, when one of them gets involved with Jimin. If Namjoon told his partners, why wouldn’t Jungkook do the same? In which case, they all probably already know. Jimin kicking Jungkook out of his room like that probably didn’t do him any favours.
When Jimin faces Taehyung again only to see the frown on his face, he thinks—it definitely didn’t do him any favours.
He sits with a full bowl and a spoon, angrily muttering at Taehyung, “What?”
“Nothing,” Taehyung says, a half eaten granola bar in his hand. His other rests on the table by his mug, likely filled with some sort of tea.
Yoongi’s eyes flick up at the short exchange, but evidently he decides he doesn’t have to intervene because he loses interest half a second later, eyes glued back on his book. Jimin rolls his own eyes, pulling his phone out so he can pointedly ignore Taehyung.
Only, the second he unlocks it, the screen goes black. Startled, he taps the screen with a finger a few times, then presses the buttons on the sides. It doesn’t do a thing. He knows the phone was fully charged. He just took it off the charger before coming up here. Is this the end? Has it finally reached its deathbed?
Although, Jimin notes sourly, it’s been on its deathbed for a while.
With a huff, he shoves the phone aside, annoyed. First it was his inability to provide Jungkook any sort of comfort after last night and now his stupid phone is officially dead. If Taehyung would just stop looking at him, maybe he could calm the smouldering feelings simmering beneath his skin.
“What?” Jimin snaps.
Taehyung looks positively affronted. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You keep looking at me.”
“How would you know that if you weren’t looking at me too?”
“I can see you out of the corner of my eye.”
“Maybe I’m not looking at you,” Taehyung argues. “Maybe I’m looking at something near you. Did you think about that?”
“You’ve been looking at me since I arrived. If you have something to say, just say it.”
“I have nothing to say,” Taehyung says coolly.
“Then stop looking at me.”
“Fine.”
“Fine!”
They both turn away at the same time, and Yoongi sighs without looking up from his book. “Have I entered another universe where you two have turned into children?”
Taehyung gasps audibly. “I didn’t do anything. All I did was sit here. He’s the one coming at me like I’ve done something horrible. All I did was look at him!”
“So you admit it then?” Jimin taunts, eyes landing back on Taehyung. “You were looking at me?”
There is a small, miniscule part of himself that understands and acknowledges how stupid this conversation is getting. But maybe because there’s this awful weight on his chest, he can’t help but prolong it, egging Taehyung on.
“What does it even matter?” Taehyung asks. “I’m allowed to look.”
“I don’t like it.”
“Well boo hoo! You’ll survive.”
“You’re so fucking annoying.”
“So are you. You’re really annoying.” Something catches in Taehyung’s voice, and he lets out a heavy breath, followed by a chuckle, like he’s finally said what he wanted to say all along. “You’re super annoying. You confuse the fuck out of me.”
Jimin’s never heard Taehyung sound like this before. When they were kids, their friendship was pure, perhaps a little cheeky, but they never got to the point of fighting. When they ran into each other again and Jimin recognised him on that rooftop, all Jimin felt was terror. He didn’t have time to analyse how Taehyung might have felt seeing him too.
Over the period of time that Jimin has been here, Taehyung usually defaults to being overly gentle with him, not delving too much into Jimin’s past when they spent time together. After the iPod debacle, he was even more emotionally distant. Yesterday was the first time he expressed any negative feelings towards him, but it was on behalf of someone else—and now this.
Jimin scowls Taehyung’s way. “Okay? And you couldn’t just say that?”
Taehyung glowers at his granola bar, but he sounds defeated when he answers. “I don’t know. I don’t know what to say to you.”
The words chip at an insecurity Jimin didn’t even know he had. “Then don’t say anything at all.”
“That’s exactly why!” Taehyung exclaims, glower drifting from granola bar to Jimin’s face. “Because you’re just so…”
“So?” Jimin challenges, a spark in his chest burning, threatening to burst.
“Impossible to figure out.”
“And that’s somehow my fault?”
“No. I didn’t say that. I just… I don’t know… I don’t know you anymore.”
The chip deepens, like Taehyung had just nicked at it further with the point of a knife. “You say that as if I should care,” Jimin says, and perhaps because he does care, it comes out colder. “Has your bubble finally burst? Do you finally see that I’m not the same boy I once was?”
Taehyung stares at him sadly, then mumbles softly, “It’s my fault.”
Jimin scoffs, disbelief raging up in him. “Do you really think you could’ve changed what happened? You are not all powerful, Taehyung.”
The guilt is plain as day on Taehyung’s face. Their previous conversations seem to have flitted off into the wind. Jimin doesn’t understand where these thoughts are coming from. He figured, even if they weren’t close like they used to be, that they had reached a certain understanding. Surely yesterday’s confrontation with Jungkook at the dining table wasn’t what spurred this?
“Tae.” Yoongi isn’t loud when he speaks, but his voice cuts through the tension like a warm knife through butter. “I think you should reflect on your issues privately before throwing all of it at Jimin like this. All you’re doing is confusing him.”
Taehyung’s gaze darkens, his lips pressing tightly together. “He’s the one confusing me,” he says petulantly.
“Perhaps you’re confused because you have a lot you haven’t worked through,” Yoongi suggests.
“Like what?”
Yoongi gives him a pointed look. “Do you really want me to say it out loud in front of our guest?”
Taehyung grows red, to Jimin’s surprise. His eyes flicker to Jimin and then away, and then suddenly he’s shooting to his feet, sparing neither of them another glance. “I have to go.”
He practically runs out of there, the red having spread to the tips of his ears; his tea cup gets left behind. Jimin frowns at the open kitchen doorway, thinking Taehyung’s exit is even more childish than the words he said.
“What did he not want you to say out loud?” Jimin asks, turning to Yoongi.
Yoongi just purses his lips, then shuts his book firmly and points at Jimin’s phone. “Is that broken?”
“I guess so. You’re not answering my question.”
Yoongi hums for a moment, as if considering something. Then he says, “Let’s go somewhere.”
“Huh?”
Yoongi abruptly gets to his feet. “Let’s buy you a new phone. Come on.”
Is this some strange way to change the subject? “I don’t need a new phone. I want to know what Taehyung’s thinking.”
“I can’t read minds.”
“But you have an idea or he wouldn’t have run away like that.”
Yoongi just cocks his head to the doorway, ignoring everything Jimin is saying. He stands with ease, hands in his pockets and stance relaxed, and though Jimin wants to protest, it’s kind of hard because a part of him thinks Yoongi might just reveal all his secrets if Jimin agrees to this outing.
Not to mention he really does need a new phone.
“Fine,” Jimin says, conceding. He adds, playing up the nonchalance, “I didn’t have much planned today anyway.”
🔥
They take the subway into town. It’s a rainy day so Yoongi takes care to avoid the outdoors, navigating through an underground walkway to bring them where they need to go. They end up at an electronics store on the second floor of a mall. The rain pitter patters against the window, sending streaks of water across it. It’s a stay-at-home kind of day.
“What’s your preferred brand?” Yoongi asks.
Jimin shrugs. “The cheap kind.”
“Choose whatever you want. I’m paying.”
“Why?” He blurts the question, confused at the sudden gesture of kindness. This wasn’t what he expected when they came out.
Oh.
“Are you…”
Are you trying to pursue me?
He grows red as he plays over how that might sound in his head. Despite the small, pleasant conversations they have shared at the gym and during encounters at breakfast, Jimin doesn’t feel close to Yoongi at all, and he’s pretty sure the feeling’s mutual. The question makes too many assumptions. It would be humiliating if Yoongi answered no.
Jimin scratches the back of his neck, looking around. “Never mind. I can pick whatever I want?”
Yoongi drops his hands into his pockets. “Sure.”
Jimin chooses the most expensive one he can find. He’s not sure why. Well. Maybe he is sure. He just wants to see how much Yoongi is really willing to pay, whether he’ll baulk at the sum or silently keep his promise.
To Jimin’s surprise, Yoongi doesn’t even blink. He says “okay” and asks for Jimin’s old phone, one hand out to receive it. Jimin hands it over, following him as he approaches a salesperson to make the purchase.
“Any way you can move the data from this phone to the new one?” Yoongi asks. He holds up Jimin’s old phone. “It’s broken, probably the battery, but if we can preserve the data, that’d be great.”
“There’s not much on there,” Jimin says, still trying to read beyond Yoongi’s words and actions. “The old data doesn’t matter.”
“You like listening to music. Hobi said it was one of your hobbies.”
How often, Jimin wonders, do they talk about him when he’s not there?
“Your music’s all on here, right?” Yoongi goes on to ask.
“I mean… yeah,” Jimin answers, because it’s true. He has yet to actually listen to any songs on his iPod, and even then, he has no way of putting new music on it.
“Okay then.”
That seems to settle it. The salesperson plugs Jimin’s old phone into a charger, managing to power it up. Somehow, he transfers all the files over, even though, as Jimin said, there’s not much on there. Afterwards, while Yoongi pays, Jimin looks at his sleek new phone, wondering if he owes Yoongi something now.
Are you trying to pursue me?
The question lingers on his mind as they exit the store.
“It’s still raining,” Yoongi notes, heading for the escalator. He goes for one heading up instead of down, and Jimin follows wordlessly. “Let’s grab a drink.”
They end up at a coffee shop on the top level of the mall, sitting by the window with steaming cups of hot chocolate between them. It wasn’t Jimin’s choice. He said he didn’t mind what they drank, so Yoongi made the order for them.
There’s an air of awkwardness here. Unless they’re talking about music, Jimin’s not sure what else to say to Yoongi. It’s not like it’s a very active interest of his. He doesn’t spend much time surrounded by it, not like Yoongi, who works for a real studio making real money helping real people.
Jimin feels utterly distanced from the life Yoongi leads. It sort of makes him want to run away. Winking out of this situation sounds far more appealing than sitting here trying to make small talk with someone he can barely relate to.
Yoongi sags in his seat, sighing audibly. He glances out the window at the incessant rain, the slightest furrow sitting across his brows. Jimin follows his gaze, watching the streaks of rain and visible wind that slices through it. He doesn’t think he’s ever sat and watched it before. That thought squeezes something in his gut. It’s just another thing he’s missed out on.
“Thanks for the phone,” Jimin says. Yoongi’s been nothing but nice to him today; it’s only fair he thanks him—and maybe he’ll be able to unravel his intentions behind the gesture too.
“It was nothing.”
“You didn’t have to pay for it.”
“I wanted to.”
“Not like I couldn’t afford it.”
Yoongi turns away from the window to look at him. “Do you think I pity you?”
“Don’t you?”
The side of Yoongi’s lips curve up in a smile, like he’s amused by Jimin’s response. “I’d have to know you better to pity you.”
“Is that why you brought me out?”
“Yes.”
Jimin tries to hide his surprise at the straightforward answer. He thought Yoongi would beat around the bush, but it’s becoming apparent that he’s not really that kind of guy. “I didn’t realise you were so interested in me.”
“Everyone’s interested in you,” Yoongi says easily.
Jimin’s fingers twitch uneasily, something stirring in his chest. “I didn’t realise.”
“I guess it depends on your definition of interest though. Romantically? Sexually? Platonically? Perhaps it’s just mild curiosity.”
Jimin takes back what he thought about beating around the bush. Crossing his arms, he lets out an annoyed huff. “And what category do you fall under?”
When Yoongi smirks, Jimin is surprised to find his heart giving the smallest of lurches. It doesn’t mean anything, except that maybe the guy is a little good looking, especially when his full attention is aimed his way. Jimin might be a Super but he’s only human.
“I’d have thought it was obvious,” Yoongi finally says. “After all, we’ve already agreed I don’t really know you. Hard to pity someone… Hard to be romantically driven towards someone… if you don’t know them, don’t you think?”
“Ah,” Jimin responds, staring right back challengingly, “so you’re interested in me sexually then. You should’ve said so earlier. Could’ve saved you the trouble of buying me a new phone.”
Yoongi starts to laugh, not just with his voice but with his entire mouth, lips peeling back to reveal gums, eyes turning into crescents. The reaction tugs at something in Jimin’s belly, and he’s surprised to find himself having difficulty stopping himself from smiling.
“So I know you like music,” Yoongi says once his laughter has died down, though there’s a lightness to his words now. “And Hobi said you like to dance.”
“That’s putting it too heavily,” Jimin corrects.
“But you don’t really get up to much in your spare time, do you?” Yoongi goes on, as if Jimin hadn’t spoken.
Jimin shrugs. “So? I have things I have to do.”
“Like burning places down.”
“This conversation’s kind of pointless when you already know so much about me,” Jimin mocks. It just draws out another one of Yoongi’s gummy smiles.
“I should add ‘snarky’ to my list.”
“You have a list?” Jimin clicks his tongue. “I’m starting to think you might actually be interested in me romantically. You’re going through an awful lot of effort to get to know me. Or are you just looking for a sugar baby? Someone to spoil with your hard earned money?”
Jimin waves his phone like a prize, watching the way Yoongi’s smile deepens like every word Jimin says is amusing. And the thing is—it is. There’s a feeling bubbling up inside Jimin, one that he latches on to like a lifeline towards surviving talking with Min Yoongi.
He didn’t know bantering with him would be so much fun.
“The way you’re going through us one by one makes me think you might enjoy being spoiled,” Yoongi shoots back.
“You think Namjoon and Jungkook are spoiling me?”
“Maybe not with money. But there are other valuable things in life. Time… Attention.”
Jimin hums. “Seems you do know me well after all. I do like attention.”
He’ll probably cringe at himself later, but right now he feels unnaturally drawn to Yoongi, craving exactly that—his attention. For all their little interactions, Jimin hasn’t ever felt like Yoongi was going out of his way to talk to him. He approached their short conversations like one might approach taking the subway to work everyday. It just became routine. Nothing special or out of the ordinary.
But this… It certainly feels out of the ordinary.
“Where’d you grow up, Jimin?”
The question takes Jimin by surprise. “Um… lots of places.”
“Motel to motel. City to city. Right?”
“If you already know, why are you asking?”
Yoongi’s tone is patient. “Which cities? I just want to know if we have any overlap.”
While Jimin’s instinct is to ask why, he’s afraid he already knows. Isn’t the whole point of this so Yoongi can get to know him? He tries to brush past the discomfort and unfamiliarity of a, well, regular conversation. “Well we usually avoided major cities, particularly Seoul.”
Yoongi remains silent, waiting for him to go on. So Jimin names a few places off the top of his head, not in the order he lived in them but just as he remembers them. Where he met Taehyung was the most memorable. He’ll never forget that beach in Busan. Sinking his feet in the sand was one of his favourite things to do.
Suddenly Yoongi interrupts him. “You’ve been to Daegu?”
“Yeah.”
He must have been six years old when they were there. There was never any rhyme or reason as to which city they ended up in. For a long time, it was normal. But Daegu… He thinks he remembers it more than some of the others, and that’s because:
“The place we stayed at had a TV,” Jimin says. “That’s what I remember about Daegu. I don’t know if my dad just wanted to splurge a little more than usual or if we just got lucky, but I spent a lot of time watching cartoons there.”
“You wouldn’t catch me away from the TV everyday after school watching the new season of Pokémon.”
Jimin perks up. “I watched that too. I begged my dad to buy the DVDs of the episodes I’d missed once. I even threw a tantrum one day when he took me out. He threatened to unplug the TV if I didn’t stop asking and back then it never occurred to me that I might be able to plug it back in because it shut me up pretty quick.”
“Damn. Which episodes did you manage to catch?”
“Orange Islands?” Jimin can barely believe he remembers, but then, he didn’t watch much other TV growing up.
“We’re going to have to change that one day.”
“Well with my brand new phone, maybe I’ll be able to watch an entire episode of something without it shutting down on me.”
Yoongi gives him an odd look, but he just says, “Or we could scour Namjoon’s DVD collection and watch it on the big screen in the living room.”
For some reason, Jimin can’t quite imagine what that might look like. Him and Yoongi hanging out on the couch, watching cartoons on TV. So he shrugs, figuring Yoongi is just being kind.
“Namjoon owns all the DVDs?” he asks.
“There’s a whole closet of them. He’s a collector, although I prefer to call him a hoarder. He never throws anything away.”
Jimin hums. “It didn’t seem that way when I was in his room.”
“That’s because you haven’t seen his other room.”
“Other room?”
“All of our bedrooms lead to other rooms. I’m not just working on music in my bedroom. I’ve turned the adjoining room into a studio.”
Jimin did notice another door in Namjoon’s room, and in Taehyung’s, come to think of it, though not in Jungkook’s. He figured it was just a walk in closet. Maybe they were supposed to be. There’s a lot he doesn’t know. He never received a tour of the apartment, and he would never ask for one.
But then Yoongi says, “I’ll show it to you sometime,” talking about his studio, and Jimin wonders what’s compelling him to be so welcoming. He’s been so vague about his intentions behind wanting to get to know him. Maybe he really is pursuing him. Maybe he’s looking out for his partners, particularly Namjoon and Jungkook.
Jimin has seen his soft sides, the fond look he often casts his partners’ ways, the attention he gives them, even if it’s as simple as eye contact and a nod, to show he’s heard. He’s attentive, thorough, and caring. He’s talented. He’s normal.
Of all of them, Yoongi is the one Jimin might have seen out at a club, and the one he would have chosen for a fun night in bed. Jimin would have told himself he had to leave him come morning, knowing their lives would never fit because even as a Super, he’s as normal as they come. If not for his relationship, he would be.
Jimin doesn’t know why he’s thinking about it. It’s not like he fits in within any of that, and yet he can’t quite help imagining it. What would it have been like? If instead of running into Yoongi the day he set fire to Namjoon’s club, instead they met at the club some other night? Might Jimin have hit on him? And might that gummy smile have elicited a similar reaction, his tummy fluttering like he’s a school boy with a crush?
And if he felt those feelings in that circumstance, what might he have done come morning? Would he leave? Like he did all the others?
He’s getting carried away. His mind feels muddled with thoughts of could be’s and what if’s. None of it matters when he’s here right now, and when he plans to one day leave. It doesn’t matter how handsome Yoongi is, or how kind or considerate.
Jimin would never impose himself on him like that. For fun? Sure. But for something more… He can’t even imagine it.
(Only he can. He’s started to. And he hates it.)
Jimin swallows as he meets Yoongi’s eyes, drawn to them. He doesn’t like the flutter in his chest when he finds that Yoongi wears a similar gaze to one Jimin has noticed him direct five other ways. He shouldn’t be thinking thoughts like these. All it does is make him weak.
“Are you using your powers on me?” Jimin blurts, because maybe that’s why. He’s felt Yoongi’s powers on his emotions twice before, and both times, he could barely tell the difference. Yoongi could do it and Jimin would never know.
But Yoongi’s gaze darkens at the insinuation. “Of course not.”
The tone makes Jimin feel small. Why did he ask something like that? And anyway, why would Yoongi want to implant feelings like these inside him? Unless he’s really not a good guy. Unless he just wants to mess with him, like he did that day outside the gym. It’s not like he hasn’t before. That’s the only reason Jimin asked the question.
He can feel his defences rising, so utterly affected by Yoongi’s words and the way he said them. Jimin hates it. He hates how weak he is to nice gestures and hot chocolate. He hates how he’s still bothered by this morning’s interaction with Jungkook, when he kicked him out of his room when all he wanted was to cuddle.
He hates how sometimes he thinks about Namjoon, wishing he would ask to hang out again, hoping he’ll take up Jimin’s offer to have casual sex if just so he can be close to him again.
Yoongi starts to frown, and Jimin wants to shrink into himself, yet his instinct is to cower beneath a harder exterior and take his first chance to run away.
“There’s another side to my powers that you might not know,” Yoongi says.
Jimin lets him speak, because what he’s feeling is too much to talk about, and his hate for feeling any of it is overwhelming everything.
“I don’t use it on purpose but I guess you could say it’s a little uncontrollable. Emotions are just… easy for me to read. And while I’m not actively using my powers, sometimes, when someone experiences a lot of strong emotions, I can sense it too.”
Oh. Oh, oh, oh, because he knows. He can read Jimin like an open book. Of course he can.
“That’s to say… Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Jimin chirps, trying to keep his tone light even though his chest has never felt so heavy. He feels stupid that he’s allowed himself to get like this in front of someone who’s essentially a stranger. And it wouldn’t be the first time, would it?
Yoongi was there when he freaked out over an iPod. What kind of villain is he, when he’s constantly falling to pieces? How is he supposed to fight someone else when he can barely hold himself together?
“I think I have to go,” Jimin says, blinking rapidly because the more he talks, the more he wants to cry, and he hasn’t cried in front of someone since that time he cried for his mother.
“Don’t— I mean, can I help you?” Yoongi asks.
Anger slices through Jimin at the suggestion. He clings to it. “Don’t you dare use your powers on me.”
“I didn’t mean that.” The sympathy is clear on Yoongi’s face. “I just meant… Maybe we can talk about it. Talking helps.”
Jimin stands, appalled at the idea. Another time, he might have agreed, but he’s desperately trying to stay angry.
“I don’t want to talk to you,” he says, thinking how terrible it is that he was forced to come here at all. He didn’t ask to be here. He didn’t ask for this phone. He doesn’t want to owe anyone anything.
“Jimin—”
Jimin cuts him off by dropping the new phone on the table. It clatters but doesn’t break. “You can keep your stupid phone.”
Yoongi looks stricken, and perhaps also confused, as if torn on what to say or do. But Jimin’s anger doesn’t go away and neither does his bubbling emotions so at least Yoongi is respecting him enough not to use his powers to calm him down. Jimin turns before he can think himself back into a rational space.
If he becomes rational, he thinks he might have to confront the gestures and the kindness and the subsequent surge of emotions, and if he does that, he might just cry. That, he decides, would be the worst thing in the world.
So he walks away.
And when he finds himself alone, he cloaks himself in shadows.
And then he runs.
🔥
Jimin tries to unlock the door as silently as possible. It’s late, so the likelihood of having to confront anyone right now is low. Even so, he takes his time, and once he’s inside he toes off his shoes.
He’s relieved to see that the apartment is mostly dark, the only light from the living room, where the door has been left ajar. The kitchen and the dining room are both empty. Jimin walks in the kitchen only to grab a bottle of water. He ate while he was out, not wanting to eat with the others but not wanting to starve either.
After draining half the bottle, he caps it and decides to take the rest to go. As he’s heading for the stairs leading down though, voices from the living room carry over, and he can’t help from slowing down. It’s, as Yoongi put it, mild curiosity keeping him rooted to the ground.
“... doing some digging, but I couldn’t bring it up with Hobi and Tae though, you know? And Jin and Joonie have barely been around, but I can’t keep it to myself anymore.” That’s Jungkook. Jimin would recognise his voice anywhere.
“You can tell me.” And that one is Yoongi. Jimin bites his lip, but he figures it’s only the two of them, considering what Jungkook just said. “I’m always here to listen.”
“It’s just that this is the mission I decided to take on. I don’t want to bother you—”
“It’s not a bother.”
“You might think differently once you hear what I have to say.”
A pause, and then, so softly that Jimin gravitates a few steps towards the room to hear better, “What is it, Jungkook?”
“It’s about Jimin.”
Jimin freezes, feeling as if there’s a spotlight on him even though he’s completely covered in darkness. As far as he knows, Jungkook hasn’t been entirely forthcoming about the records they have read with the others. In that way, he’s been respectful of Jimin’s mission—a mission that he’s declared his own too, apparently.
But now… Just what is so important that he’s bringing Yoongi into it? Yoongi, who is a civilian. Yoongi, who has probably never hurt a fly.
“Did you read the news much growing up?” Jungkook asks.
“Not unless you count album reviews.”
“Right… but you must have heard about that hero camp five years ago? It was on national news. It was all anyone could talk about for weeks.”
“Five years ago… Is that the one that burned down?”
Terror renders Jimin frozen. He doesn’t react when he hears a snap of fingers. “That’s the one!”
“Someone called it one of the greatest tragedies in the country. Pretty sure news about it was broadcasted globally.”
“Yeah it was a big deal.”
“Jungkook, why are you bringing it up right now? What does it have to do with Jimin?”
Jimin isn’t sure he wants to hear anymore, but his mild curiosity has turned morbid, and his feet are glued to the ground.
“So you know how we’ve been reading a bunch of top secret files.”
“That you stole.”
“Yes, those would be the ones,” Jungkook says. He’s speaking far too cheerfully. “I don’t know all the details of what I’ve been reading, but I figured some stuff out. There was a secret group basically training Supers. Like, child Supers. Jimin won’t tell me but I’m pretty sure he was one of them.”
Jimin never should have come here. He should have tried harder to find those files. He already knows the connection Jungkook is about to make, and he’s powerless to stop it.
“That’s… what? So he was trained?”
“Against his will. Yoongs, he was kidnapped when he was ten. His dad was killed in front of him.”
“So you’re saying… he was brought to that place? To be trained? Why?”
“I don’t know! To make him more powerful? Maybe? It seemed like they were experimenting on Supers, but they were doing it when they were kids because our powers are still developing when we’re young.”
“But this is all speculation,” Yoongi says.
Jimin feels like the ground is spinning.
“If you read the files, you’d see those experiments were definitely not legal. They were kids. Half of them didn’t even realise what was happening to them. And you’ve talked to Jimin. You know he’s been through some awful stuff.”
“I can’t form an opinion about it unless I speak to him myself. You yourself said you think he was one of those kids. What makes you so sure?”
Jungkook sighs, sounding frustrated. “Why else would he be so hell bent on revenge?”
“There could be a million reasons.”
“Well he basically admitted it to me.”
“Did he say, I was one of those kids being experimented on? Because you know I don’t like making assumptions.”
“Not in those words exactly—”
“Then we can’t say for certain he was there,” Yoongi says.
“He did say those kids were all dust though.” There’s a silent pause after Jungkook says that. Jimin thinks the roof is closing in on him. “He said he would join them one day. Like… Like… Like he knows he’s going to die.”
“Aish, Jungkookie… I doubt he’s going to die.”
“Why are you acting like this isn’t huge? What if… What if he’s really dying or… What if his powers kill him because… You’re the one who told me about how his powers hurt him when he trained with Hobi. That’s not normal, hyung.”
Jimin’s brows knit together, regaining some sense of balance when he realises that maybe Jungkook won’t make the connection. Maybe this is as far as he got, and one thing just reminded him of another, but he didn’t actually think—
“There’s something else though, a- and this is the part I’m not sure about.”
“What is it?”
“It’s just… Jimin escaped. They wouldn’t have just let him out. He said he’s been on this mission for about five years. He said all the kids we’ve been reading about died. Do you know a bunch of other kids who died?”
Jimin is in such a state of disbelief that he nearly laughs out loud—even though he wants to wail in terror. The memory of that day is still so hazy, but he can hear their screams when he goes to sleep. And now the only people who have given him any semblance of safety know what he did.
Before he knows it, he’s walking, not down the stairs, but to the hallway where everyone’s rooms are. He goes straight to Jungkook’s, flicking the light on and shutting the door behind him. Like he remembers, there’s not another door, but Yoongi seemed to think every room led to another room.
Jimin’s eyes land on the tapestry covering part of one of the walls. Suddenly he feels stupid. After all his digging around Jungkook’s room, he never even noticed it. He feels a sense of calm as he drags the material aside, unsurprised to find that there really is a door there. He reaches for the knob and turns it. It gives way.
He doesn’t have to walk all the way in to spy the duffel bags sat against the far wall of the second room. Jimin finds the switch for this room on the wall, once again unsurprised to see the files sticking out of the open zipper of one of the bags. All along, they were right there, just beyond the wall.
Jimin doesn’t waste a moment picking up the bags. There are two of them, and one of them is half empty, likely because those are the files they read together. He’s delighted—and disgusted—to realise there is still so much more to find out. Jungkook’s been holding out on him.
He turns the lights back off, leaving the room as he found it. Downstairs, he gathers the other files, putting them in the duffel bag and then grabbing his own, packing as much as he can as quickly as he can. He wants to be gone from here as soon as possible.
Back on the main floor though, he hesitates. Maybe because this was the first time he ever felt like he had a home, it’s hard to tear himself away from it. But what does it matter when he leaves, when he always planned to do so eventually anyway? The sooner he goes, the better.
In the end, it’s Yoongi’s voice that makes up his mind.
“You realise what you’re saying right?” His voice is a little raised, like maybe he’s scared. In the news, they painted the teenager who was unaccounted for as the villain of the hero camp tragedy. In the news, they knew—that the survivor was the perpetrator, and that his absence meant he was running away from his crime.
They never named him, and perhaps that was because those in charge didn’t want them to know. All they had to go by was a mark Jimin left on the wall in his room, not as a villain mark but as a part of the word he crazedly scribbled on the wall some weeks prior, to remind himself of his name.
A small, baby ‘j’.
“If that facility and the hero camp that burnt down are one and the same…”
Jimin shouldn’t listen to the rest of it, but it’s morbid curiosity still in play. Maybe he just wants to hear them say it.
“... Then Jimin killed all those children. Jungkook, he’s a mass murderer.”
Notes:
comments and kudos always always appreciated <3
p.s. side note/fun fact that the last scene here was one of the first that inspired this fic when i was dreaming up how to make it ot7. that's all. thank you for reading!!
Chapter 8
Notes:
hi everyone! sorry this is a few days late. i was being super nitpicky about this chapter since it's an important one, but i'm happy with how it turned out. i plan to post chapter 9 around 11 or 12 november. i just need some time to write it but i'll try to go as fast as possible. thank you for being so patient with updates :)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
It turns out Highway to Hell is a great song to get drunk to.
Jimin plays it from the only working piece of technology he has—his iPod. He sets it on the desk in his motel room, making sure the speakers are as loud as they will go. For such an old gadget, it works pretty well. Unfortunately it only has one song.
Although, the more Jimin listens to it, the more fitting he decides it is. He always knew he was headed to hell (if the place exists), and this is just another sign of it. So he plays it on loop late into the night while he pours over the records Jungkook hid from him, all while nursing a bottle of whiskey.
He marvels at how much better it is doing this without Jungkook. He hated those too big eyes, always prying into things he didn’t understand. He was such a jerk too, always distracting him. What even compelled Jimin to kiss him that night? To sleep with him? He must have been out of his mind. That place was poisonous.
He hasn’t felt like himself in a long time.
Now he truly feels like those villains they speak about in movies. He imagines the montage that would play leading up to his final act, these records his guide and Highway to Hell his anthem. It’s perfect, in a way. Perhaps he had to go through all of that to make it back where he belonged.
The movie would have him at its centre, of course. That way, there could be no way he would lose.
Words start blurring together a few files in, and none of it is saying anything of importance, so Jimin turns up the music and jumps on his bed. His dance party lasts all of thirty seconds, and then he’s sinking down onto his butt, wondering if Hoseok would have joined him if he was here.
Not that that matters. Jimin shrugs the thought away and slinks over to the bathroom to take a piss.
Once he’s returned, he takes a swig from his bottle, which is already a quarter gone. Jimin isn’t planning to drink the whole thing but he’s not really policing himself right now. Since he escaped the facility, he’s been alone. He’s used to the silence. He prefers it, in fact.
Frowning, his eyes gravitate to his iPod, where it has grown silent. Stomping over, he starts the song again, singing along as soon as the lyrics start. He knows all the words by heart. It only took a few listens to relearn them.
Though his head is beginning to spin, he decides to try reading again. How is he supposed to find her if he’s busy singing songs or dancing to them on top of his bed? So he narrows his focus, deciding perhaps he needs to read the words out loud to get what’s happening through his sluggish brain.
“‘Crocodile: Good afternoon. Please have a seat.’” Jimin rolls his eyes from the get go. “You all were always trying so hard to pretend you cared. Only the stupidest kid would actually fall for your tricks,” he tells the file, then realises what he’s done and starts to giggle, curling into himself on the bed.
“Okay, okay, okay,” he says, trying to get a hold of himself. “Wait.” He turns away to grab the bottle on the nightstand, wincing as the alcohol burns down his throat. His mind supplies that his vocal cords should be ready for the performance, even though alcohol tends to have the opposite effect. Momentarily, he forgets this.
The kids have code names too, though instead of animals, they’re flowers. Jimin thinks how that’s fitting, because those adults were always trampling all over them and destroying their dreams.
“‘Daisy:’” Jimin reads, wondering if he’ll be able to guess who this was. The other interviews all proved to be too vague to figure out their real identities. Although he never did know anyone’s full name. He knew them by their first name, and sometimes by their numbers. The numbers corresponded to the rooms they stayed in. Jimin was number 43, because he arrived so late.
“‘Thank you, mister. Crocodile: Let’s start by hearing about how you’ve been feeling lately. Daisy: I don’t sleep very well at night. Crocodile: Why is that? Daisy: I keep dreaming about bad things. Crocodile: What bad things? Daisy: I don’t know if I should say. Crocodile: This is a safe place. You can tell me anything.’
“Liar,” Jimin mumbles, frowning at the page. That place was dangerous. Crocodile reminds him of one of the top scientists, and perhaps he is him, constantly spewing lies to innocent kids who didn’t know better. He reads on, but silently now.
Daisy: I dream about a boy burning me to death.
Jimin scrunches his eyes, rereading the line as his heart picks up speed rapidly.
Daisy: I dream about a boy crying next door.
Oh. Jimin’s surroundings waver. He’s seeing things, things that aren’t there.
Crocodile: You dream about a boy?
Daisy: He’s here too. I heard him crying once and now I keep dreaming about it. He’s making me sad. I can’t sleep because of him.
Crocodile: Sometimes children cry. It doesn’t mean they’re sad.
Daisy: It doesn’t?
Crocodile: Of course not. He could have been crying tears of happiness.
Daisy: You really think so?
A lot of the kids were like her, young and naïve, with no understanding of what was happening to them. When Jimin first arrived, he was distraught. He tried to talk to the other kids, to find out about the place he had been brought to, but all that got him was days locked in his room.
You’re scaring the other children, the scientists would say.
Jimin learned to keep his mouth shut.
He turns back to the file, reading on, but Daisy says nothing of significance either. She’s like all the others. Soon he will run out of interviews. Would his own be among them? He’s curious to know, yet scared to look back at his past. He doesn’t know what he wants.
It’s grown silent again. He strides to his iPod to fix that when he notices that it’s run out of battery. So soon? He doesn’t have a charger for it, never thought he would listen to it again and therefore didn’t bother getting one, or asking Taehyung for his.
So he finds his old phone. It won’t power up on its own but he watched the salesperson turn it on when it was plugged in, so he plugs it in now. After a moment, the screen fires up, to his excitement. Jimin thumbs to his music app and puts all the songs on shuffle, then he scrambles onto his bed, climbing over the scattered files and rolling over on his back.
Shutting his eyes, he sings along to the music, having already lost his focus to investigate. He’ll get back to it tomorrow.
The night passes like so. Sometimes a particularly energetic song will play, and he’ll be rejuvenated, jumping up to sing along at the top of his lungs. Every time he spies his bottle of whiskey, he drinks from it, until his mind has turned numb and he can barely see straight. A few times, he stumbles to the bathroom, dropping onto the seat because standing requires too much effort.
When he finally dozes off, he dreams of a dolphin and a crocodile, standing resolutely in front of a wilting spirea, asking him why he’s making all the children sad. It’s a familiar scene, and yet it’s so ridiculous, he decides it must be a dream.
He wakes up to his cheek plastered to paper. Exhausted, and likely still drunk, he peels it from his face, letting it drop to the bed, where more papers lie spread out and out of order. He must have taken more files out of the duffle bags, thinking to get more reading done. He doesn’t remember a single thing after reading about Daisy.
His heavy bladder encourages him to go to the bathroom, and it’s there, looking in the mirror, that he notices the letters that have imprinted themselves on his face. Grimacing, he spends the next few minutes washing that off, then decides he’s in need of a shower.
He walks back to the room feeling sick, his stomach rejecting every drop of alcohol he ingested. A look at the clock on the wall shows that it’s nearly noontime. How long did he sleep? He doesn’t even know when he got to sleep, just that it was a long night of poor decisions. At least he didn’t throw up.
There’s a convenience store five minutes away, so he stocks up on water and food. It was much better when he could raid the fridge for food. There was always something in there for him, whether leftovers or simple ingredients for a sandwich. One look at the foods in his plastic bag and he thinks he might actually be sick.
Back in the room, he drains a bottle of water, shoves some papers aside, and lays on top of the covers. He breathes a few times, in and out, in and out, hoping it will dampen the nausea rolling through him. The more he thinks about it, the worse it gets.
Eventually though, the breathing exercises do him good, because he falls asleep again. The next time he wakes up, he just has a dull headache, but he thinks he might actually be able to stomach some food. It’s nothing like Yoongi’s grand feasts, but he tears into the sandwich he bought, feeling slightly more normal by the time he’s done.
There is no way he’ll be able to get any exercises done, and the thought of reading some more just makes his headache throb, so he sits on the floor with his forehead against the wall and scrolls through social media on his phone. It’s all mindless, but it passes the time. Whether he’s here or there, it’s all the same. He finds himself bored more often than not.
Although there were good times, weren’t there? Like when Namjoon took him out to deal with that rival gang. Or when Taehyung taught him to play games on his console. Even bickering with Jungkook was fun, not to mention when he found himself tangled with Namjoon and then Jungkook in bed.
That, he can admit, was much better than this.
He almost can’t believe his outing with Yoongi was just yesterday. He feels like he’s lived a lifetime since then. Maybe he should have kept the phone, then he could sprawl out on the bed instead of sitting on the floor like this. If he unplugs it though, it’ll die. Should he just buy himself a new phone?
He should. He really should. He could get the same model he chose yesterday, prove to Yoongi that he never needed him in the first place.
Prove to himself that he never needed any of them.
His resolve wavers when a single teardrop escapes his eye. He watches it land on his screen, continuing to look at it as the screen goes dark. He must be really tired, because there’s no way he’s crying over them. Maybe he’s still drunk. He must still be drunk.
He turns the phone back on, trying to refocus his attention on the video he was watching, but his mind is already betraying him. He thinks about the way Seokjin, Yoongi and Namjoon helped him after the iPod debacle. There was no hesitation. They barely knew him or why he was acting that way, yet they helped him.
No one’s ever helped him like that before. Even when Seokjin only knew his name, he calmed him when he started panicking his first day there, carrying him to his room and brushing his hair back. The little moments Jimin spied between the gang leader and his partners had Jimin aching as much as they made him blush.
But he was an intruder in their midst. He’s a killer as Namjoon so directly put it, and though he never tried to hide the fact he was a villain, he’s certain that them learning about that fateful day has changed everything. Yoongi said it, and he’s right. Jimin’s a mass murderer. He killed those children. He left them behind to save his own skin.
It doesn’t matter if he held the knife to their throats or not. He knew the situation they were in and he chose to walk away. Yoongi was right to be scared. Jungkook was naïve to sound like he was still on Jimin’s side. It’s better this way. He knew it before, and all this did was remind him of it.
So why is he shaking? Why is his screen pooling with tears and why can’t he stop thinking about them? As much as he tries to tell himself to get it together, it won’t stop. The memories, as simple as they were, are ones he wants to hold onto, even though he knows he doesn’t deserve them.
He feels like he infiltrated their perfect bubble. He feels like he tainted it. And thank god he never slept with anyone else, but how must they feel now, knowing what they know? He’s sure Yoongi has told the rest of them already. Hoseok and Taehyung might finally report his misdeeds to their bosses. He wouldn’t be surprised if his real name showed up on a wanted list.
There was never any escaping this. One day they will catch him. He just hopes he gets to his mother first. His mother—who is the reason for his predicament. He should have killed her when he had the chance. When he was bundled up in her arms, allowing himself to be comforted, he should have struck her. She would’ve never seen it coming.
Instead she left him. He gave her all the power and she used it and then she left. His chest burns with the memory, hurt and anger mixing into an ugly concoction. He refuses to cry for her though. He cries for everything he lost—except her. Her, he blames for all of it.
He shuts his fist, both physically and metaphorically, letting himself float in the darkness. He keeps the dome small so he doesn’t repeat what happened last time, when someone noticed the use of his powers nearby. In here, it’s like he doesn’t have a corporeal body. Even after all their experiments, he still doesn’t understand half of it. All he knows is that it’s harder to cry in here. He doesn’t have to feel so much inside the dome.
After a minute, he lets it fall away. His skin burns as usual, but it’s a welcome pain right now. He relaxes into it, watching the way his arms glimmer, almost turning transparent. If he spends more time in his phantom dome, maybe one day he’ll disappear.
Would that be better?
If he disappeared?
He shuts his fist again, thinking about what that would look like. And the thing is… nothing would change. In fact, the world would be exactly the same. It’s not as if there’s another facility like the one he was in being run, at least not as far as he knows. She has drifted into the wind. All his mission is doing is digging up crimes long forgotten.
No one has been left alive to save anymore. What’s the point of it all?
Perhaps because he’s so focused on his thoughts, it takes a second for him to realise that it’s not dark in his dome. He thinks to stand but his form just wavers, almost like it doesn’t exist. It’s like he’s in the dome, but it’s different. He’s not travelling in his shadows.
What is this?
He hasn’t done this before. He feels weightless. He can’t see himself and yet he’s utterly aware of where he is. His limbs don’t feel like they normally do, as if his once corporeal form has become something else entirely.
A shudder goes through him, and suddenly he’s dropping back into his body like a heavyweight. He sinks onto his side, every muscle suddenly too heavy to pick up. His eyes are drawn wide, and he stares at his useless hands only to find that it’s not burning. No light bleeds out of him.
He decides he must be really hungover. He probably just froze in his body, too overwhelmed by his thoughts, and now he’s coming back to himself, bit by bit. He wiggles his fingers and toes after a while, sitting up as soon as he can. Before he knows it, he’s back to normal. A quick close of his fist shows his powers still work the same as usual.
It was probably all just in his head.
The hours creep by slowly. Jimin spends most of the evening trying to reorganise the papers he messed up while he was drunk. His eyes glaze over the words, but nothing stands out. He’s starting to think maybe the records are useless. He’s not learning anything except what he already knows. He’s just reopening old wounds.
When nighttime well and truly descends upon him, he caves pretty quickly to the bottle of whiskey on the table. This time, though, he drinks in silence. He thinks back to when he used to share these motel rooms with his father, and how even though they were running away from something, it didn’t always feel like it.
His dad made him feel normal. He made him feel safe. Jimin misses him most of all. He wishes he could ask him what he would do in this situation. It’s not fair he was taken so soon.
Jimin passes out with the bottle of whiskey propped in his lap, still sitting up against the headboard. It’s what wakes him up some time later from a stiff neck. He sets the bottle on the bedside table. It’s honestly a miracle it didn’t spill.
He’s about to get out of the bed when he senses something by the door—a stray breath where it doesn’t belong, air passing through the room even though the door should be shut closed and locked. Jimin turns to it, feeling as if he’s moving underwater.
Six pairs of eyes stare back.
🔥
The scream Jimin lets out is, in hindsight, embarrassing beyond belief. He stumbles off the bed and scrambles until his back is to the wall opposite the front door. Meanwhile, his trespassers all move in tandem, a few of them shouting variations of “it’s okay!” and someone else holding up their hands and another menacingly going to close the door.
It takes a few seconds for Jimin to realise who those six pairs of eyes belong to. The thing is, it feels like ages since he saw them, even though it’s been maybe just over a day. But it’s not often he sees them altogether and it’s the first time he’s seeing all of them out of that apartment at the same time.
Taehyung and Hoseok have their faces covered with hat-beanie-hoodie combinations. Seokjin wears a pressed suit sans the tie as if he just came from a business meeting. Yoongi wears sweatpants and a sweater. Namjoon has jeans on and a jacket that looks like one Jimin has seen on Jungkook. Jungkook is dressed similarly, except his hair is a mess and he looks like he hasn’t slept a wink in days.
“What the fuck?” Jimin has a hand pressed to his heart, which is racing uncontrollably. They really gave him the fright of his life.
“Sorry, we’re sorry,” Hoseok says immediately. He’s the one who has his hands up by his head, as if to say he comes in peace. “We didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I told you we should knock first,” Yoongi mumbles.
“He would’ve run away and you know it,” Jungkook fires back. Determination flares in his eyes, and he shoves Taehyung forward a few steps as if threatening Jimin to just try, just try to run away.
Taehyung shoots Jimin a guilty look. “I mean… I don’t want to hurt you so I’ll avoid using my powers if I can but… Hear us out, maybe?”
Seokjin clears his throat when Jimin doesn’t say anything, still rattled. “I’m just sorry it came to this, and I’m sorry I haven’t been around. But we would really like to talk to you. If you decide leaving is really what you want to do, then we’ll respect that decision. Right, guys?”
The others mutter reluctant yes’s. Jimin is confused. They came here to… convince him not to leave? Why the hell would they want him back? He looks at Yoongi, then at Jungkook, but he doesn’t know if they said anything about their discovery, and even if they didn’t, they’re both here right now.
“The bed’s big enough for seven if we all sit cross legged,” Namjoon says.
Jimin doesn’t know if what he’s feeling is anger. After all, he should be angry. They all barged in here, probably picking the lock, and entered a space that should have been his own. They invaded his privacy. They all seem to think he’s okay with just… just talking. As if he’s already agreed to this when this is the last thing he wanted.
“No,” Jimin chokes out, finding his voice. “No, I don’t want to talk. You can’t just come here an- and decide that for me.”
Jungkook is the one who steps forward. Of course he is. Out of everyone, he’s the unlikely one Jimin is closest to, the one he spent the most time with. And even if a lot of that time was riddled with arguments, somehow when looking at him now, Jimin can’t help but long to be held by those arms.
He begs with those big eyes of his. “Please, just hear us—”
“I found the files.” Jimin stands straighter when Jungkook’s eyes wander to the duffle bags by the wall with all the stolen records. “I don’t need you anymore.”
“That’s why you left?”
“I told you from the beginning, didn’t I? This is my mission. I found the records. They’re mine now. You’re not a part of this anymore.”
“I don’t believe you,” Jungkook says, though the waver in his voice says otherwise. “I thought we agreed… That night after…”
“What? After I had sex with you?”
The room grows silent. Seokjin and Yoongi suddenly look guarded, like they’re ready to step in and protect Jungkook if need be. It’s exactly what Jimin expects, and exactly why he keeps going.
“Do you think you’re special now?” Jimin asks, watching the way Jungkook shrinks into himself. He looks over everyone, letting his annoyance take over. “How many times do I have to say it before I get it through your thick skulls? I never wanted to be in that place. I never asked to be. You all forced me to be, and now you’re trying to do it again. Why can’t you just leave me alone?”
“We’re not trying to force you to come back,” Taehyung snaps, stepping up so he’s standing slightly in front of Jungkook. “We’re just trying to understand you. You left without a word.”
“So what?”
“So talk to us then.”
“About what?!” It’s infuriating how they still don’t understand. “I’ve made my decision.”
“At least tell us why,” Taehyung says adamantly. “And don’t say it’s because you found these stupid records. You and I and all of us know that’s just an excuse.”
Jimin bristles, and as he does, the light above them flickers. He sees as Taehyung squares his shoulders, as if preparing himself to stop him. A few of them look up, concerned. But Jimin doesn’t make it go dark. He doesn’t do anything of the sort. Instead, he laughs, suddenly finding the whole situation hilarious. The seven of them in this tiny motel room, six against one.
He laughs until his stomach hurts, bending over in two so he doesn’t have to look at them. The corners of his eyes sting because of how hard he’s laughing. When he finally recovers, he just says morosely, “I need a drink.”
His breath is stale from hours spent asleep without brushing his teeth, but he washes it with more whiskey. It burns down his throat but no one stops him from drinking. A day ago, he felt unstoppable. Now he thinks he’s never felt so helpless, a slave to his heart.
The truth is, now that they’re here, he doesn’t want to leave.
“Can we talk now?” Taehyung asks.
Jimin barely spares him a glance. “I don’t want to.”
“Well we came all the way out here.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“But you’re not kicking us out.” It’s Yoongi who says that. He’s standing by the door, cast in shadows created by his taller partners, but he still stands out. “Maybe offer us a drink?”
It occurs to Jimin that never in his life has he ever had someone over. Never in his life has he had a place where he could invite someone over in the first place. He can add this to the other lists of firsts he’s experienced since meeting them.
Not that he wants to.
Jimin finds a few plastic cups on the desk and in the bathroom. He asks who wants a cup. Yoongi silently raises his hand while Namjoon says, “Why the hell not?”
Taehyung and Hoseok are the only ones who decline, citing hero work as their excuse. Jimin wonders how they’re both even here right now. Taehyung was supposed to be out for at least a few more days, as far as Jimin knows.
When the others all have drinks in their hands, they begin to find spots to sit on the bed. Jungkook tucks himself in one corner, his back against the headboard. It’s the furthest one could get from Jimin. He holds his cup in both hands, looking even smaller than before, his eyes shiny, his lower lip trembling.
Hoseok sits right next to him, setting a hand on his thigh. When he looks up, he catches Jimin watching them. Startled, Jimin looks away, waiting for the others to find spots on the bed while he takes the chair. Like Jungkook, he wants to put distance between himself and them.
Namjoon sighs loudly. He’s perched on the foot of the bed near Jimin, one arm propped up behind him. Beside him, Seokjin is cross legged and Taehyung rests his chin on his shoulder. Yoongi sits at the other corner of the bed next to Hoseok.
“Just so you know, I voted not to come,” Namjoon says.
Something in Jimin’s heart tightens, so he plays it off like he doesn’t care. “You guys are voting about me now?”
“It was obvious you left to be alone. God knows I felt the same way when I first met this ragtag group. But they’re persistent to a fault and—”
“I’m going to stop you there,” Jimin interrupts. Namjoon’s mouth falls open in surprise. “I’m not interested in any of this. You got your drink, so drink it and then go. If you knew I wanted to be alone, you should’ve respected my wishes.”
“The thing is…” Namjoon looks at his cup, swirling it one way and then the other. “I didn’t really want to vote not to come. I did it to uphold a moral high ground I don’t even believe in.” He glances up, meeting Jimin’s eyes. “Guess I thought you might see I was on your side if I said that, but I see now that was stupid. Because if I really thought I should leave you alone, I shouldn’t have come.”
Jimin rolls his eyes, frustrated. “So why did you—”
“I told you.” Namjoon doesn’t say it meanly, but there’s a firmness to his words, a certainty. “I like you.”
Yeah. Jimin has heard him say that before, and it elicits the same response, his heart giving the smallest flutter.
“I like you too much to just let you leave,” Namjoon goes on. Of all of them, he’s the one who speaks his mind the best, strings words together so nicely, they leave Jimin speechless. “But I thought you’d stick around longer. I thought I’d have a chance later down the line, when you decided you were ready. I thought you would have stayed long enough to be ready.”
“Ready for what?”
“To be pursued.”
Jimin huffs sharply in disbelief. How could he still want him? Unless Namjoon doesn’t know what he did. Unless he’s been kept in the dark about it. Maybe he’s just a lovesick fool, come to shoot his shot one more time while he can.
“Did Yoongi and Jungkook not fill you in?” Jimin asks, hardening his heart.
Both Yoongi and Jungkook look up when they hear their names. How can they stand to be around him? Why did they go out of their way to come? Or do they have some other agenda Jimin doesn’t know about?
Maybe they want to turn him in.
“Fill me in?” Namjoon asks.
“About what they discovered.” Jimin looks at Jungkook, watching the way his expression takes on a knowing look. “Five years ago. The hero camp that burned down.” He turns to Yoongi next, who just stares back, face impassive. “The kids I killed. My mass murderer status.”
His tone comes out sarcastic and scornful. He realises how much he hates that Yoongi called him that, that he even thought him that, even though it’s true.
“No,” Jungkook blurts, sitting up. “No, we decided you couldn’t do it—”
“But I could.” Jimin stares at the floor where his feet are planted. He can still see them, their names plastered to the back of his eyelids forever. Something ugly and bitter crawls its way up his throat as he confesses: “I did. I killed them. It was me.”
Silence follows and that’s so much worse than being yelled at.
“You were right.” Jimin’s voice sounds thin and strained even to his own ears, and when he tries to take a breath, it gets caught in his throat. He looks up at Jungkook through a blur of unshed tears. “You’re always right. How do you do that?”
Jungkook just stares back, posture stiff and eyes red rimmed.
“How do you keep managing to expose me?” Jimin asks. He laughs out loud, but it sounds more like a whimper. “You just… You just won’t stop. My past is mine but all you do is bring it up over and over again. And now this? You got me, Jungkookie. You know everything now. I’m the worst villain in history.”
Nobody answers. Jimin challenges them to, looks their way like their forever enemy, but no one denies the confession. How could they? There’s no reason for Jimin to lie, and everyone knows enough to know he’s not a good person.
In the back of his mind, it registers that he’s won. Whatever they say now won’t matter. There is no redemption for someone like him. The souls of those children will sit on his conscience forever, until he dies too. He sits back. He should be proud for finally besting them. Soon, they’ll have to go back where they came from. He’ll finally, finally be free of them. He can’t wait to be free.
But pride is not what’s coursing through him right now.
In fact, he can barely breathe, his throat closing and his eyes burning and his cheeks growing wet.
Sometimes children cry. It doesn’t mean they’re sad.
Jimin touches his cheek with a hand, feeling like a child again.
He could have been crying tears of happiness.
He wonders how happy one must be for that to happen. He can’t imagine, but he wants— he wants it. He wants to be happy.
I dream about a boy crying next door.
He wants it so badly, it hurts.
Jaw tense, he buries his face in his hand, shaking minutely to try and stop the wave of emotions rushing through him. But it becomes uncontrollable within seconds, every memory clawing at him from the inside, blaming him for what happened.
If he ever finds happiness, it would be a betrayal to every life lost because of him. He wishes he could have saved them, but most of all, he wishes he hadn’t run away. When the building burned that day, he should have stayed inside.
He doesn’t hear anyone coming. It’s just that suddenly someone is enveloping him in their arms. Jimin recognises his familiar floral scent and just cries harder. After everything he said to him today, Jimin’s not sure why Jungkook is still here, or any of them for that matter.
“It’s okay,” Jungkook says fiercely. “It’s okay, Jiminie, it’s okay. I know it hurts.”
Does he? Know? Like Yoongi, can he feel his emotions too? Or is it just… obvious? He sobs into Jungkook’s chest, unable to stop himself. He should be disgusted with himself for selfishly wanting this despite all the things he did. But he can barely manage that.
“The hero camp that burned down five years ago wasn’t a hero camp,” Yoongi’s saying softly, presumably to the others, filling them in. “Jungkook made the connection. It’s where Jimin was taken. Everyone there was there against their will.”
“God,” someone says. “That’s horrible.”
It’s more than that though, Jimin wants to say. Don’t they get it? Don’t they understand what he did to escape? Or do they just… not care?
“There’s obviously a lot more going on here that we don’t understand,” Seokjin sums up. He clears his throat, and Jimin sees through blurry eyes as he sits up, planting his feet on the floor. Taehyung removes his head from his shoulder, looking stricken. “Jimin,” Seokjin calls.
Jimin’s still crying, but quieter now. He meets Seokjin’s gentle gaze. He’s had that ability to make Jimin feel comfortable from the very first day they met. It’s no different now, no matter how hard Jimin tries to draw a line between them.
“Jimin, can we help you?”
Jungkook pulls back onto his haunches, but he doesn’t move from Jimin’s side, just stares at him like he’s everything to him. It makes Jimin want to cry even more. There is one thing he’s certain of and that is that he doesn’t deserve any of them.
“Please let us help you,” Seokjin says, sounding earnest. “We’ve all gotten to know you a little bit since you’ve been around, and none of us want you to go. Not a single one.”
Jimin thinks about his mission, the one that has been fuelling him the last five years. He would be nowhere without it. It’s been his single north star in all the darkness, but lately that north star has wavered, dimmed by the presence of another.
Jungkook reaches out, one hand atop Jimin’s, his thumb brushing his knuckles reassuringly. “You can rely on us.”
It’s an echo of what he said that night when he woke Jimin up from his nightmare.
Namjoon clears his throat, drawing his attention. “You know, I really get it. I was ready to hide myself from the world after I ruined someone’s life because of my stupid actions. I felt so guilty, I didn’t think I deserved a single ounce of happiness. But they,” he sweeps a hand across his partners, “showed me that I did, no matter what I’d done. Let me, let us, prove that to you.”
“You don’t get to decide how we feel about you,” Yoongi adds. “You don’t have to run just because you think we hate you now.”
Jimin wants to say, you should, but it would prove Yoongi’s point exactly. He’s managed to put into so few words exactly what Jimin intended to do by leaving. It’s both infuriating and heartwarming to be understood so well.
“There’s still so much I want to show you,” Hoseok pipes up from his side of the room. “You agreed to a night out and I promised to take you. You can’t leave before I’ve followed through on my promises.”
It’s true that Jimin agreed to it; he even looked forward to it. He just figured Hoseok forgot when it never came up again.
“I won’t let you go again,” Taehyung now says. He’s been so silent, but Jimin realises it’s because he’s been crying too, his eyes watery and red. “I can’t. I know it’s selfish but I want you in my life forever.”
It’s a ridiculous notion, but Jimin imagines it anyway. None of it makes sense. Them being here, finding him, wanting him—it doesn’t make sense. But they’re here anyway, a new north star that shines brighter than the first. All they’re asking is for him to reach for it. All they want is for him to let them in.
How did it even come to this?
When did their words start to hold so much weight, and why is it when he tries to think of some excuse, he comes up blank?
It’s simple, really.
He wants them, and he doesn’t want to go.
Another wave of emotion rolls through him, a mixture of relief and disbelief and overwhelming gratitude. He turns his palm over, letting Jungkook’s fingers slot with his own. In turn, Jungkook stares up at him with wide, shining eyes, an unspoken question in them.
Jimin sniffs, nodding, because he doesn’t think his voice is working right now. He is barely holding himself together, but he feels tethered by their reassurances. They’re offering him something he never knew he needed but always secretly wanted.
When he’s with them, he feels like he can dream again.
🔥
Seokjin drives them home. It feels strange to Jimin to think that, but he can’t get it out of his head. That apartment has felt like home for a while now. He requests to sit in the front seat because he’s afraid he may cry again and doesn’t want the attention he might garner from it. He’s already cried too much in front of them as it is.
No one argues. At a red light, he catches Seokjin looking his way and meets his eyes. Something unspoken passes between them. Jimin isn’t blind to the fondness in that expression, but he still feels undeserving of it. It’s why he turns back to the window, trying to tame his wild emotions.
Back at the apartment, Jungkook and Namjoon carry his bags back up. It’s a little sad, Jimin thinks, how he has so little stuff. If not for the files, he would only have one bag. But he’s not ready to think about what it would be like to have more. He’s always had what he needed and that was enough.
Seokjin leads the way from the car park, and the seven of them squeeze inside the elevator. The journey back to their home has felt incredibly long. The entire car ride over, Jimin couldn’t help coming up with more excuses to leave, but he said none of them out loud. Now that he’s here, he’s probably lost his chance to.
Jimin feels a collective sense of relief from the others once they finally walk through the apartment’s front door, like everyone can breathe again. Maybe they expected him to try to run away. Jimin could have, he realises now. He could have slipped out of that car and never looked back.
“Here,” Yoongi says, holding out the phone he purchased for Jimin the other day. Jimin takes it, feeling a little guilty for the way he rejected it. Right now, he can’t quite recall the feelings that led to him walking away from that coffee shop.
“Thanks,” Jimin mumbles, brushing a thumb along the phone’s smooth surface.
“We found you using that. It was connected to your old phone so we tracked it…” Taehyung tells him. Jungkook shoots him a warning look. “What? I just want to be honest.”
“S’fine,” Jimin says. He doesn’t have the energy to be angry.
Now that he has actually agreed to stay here, and not under the guise of those stolen records, it feels different. It’s like purposefully walking forward on ground littered with cracks. Despite the hands they reach out to him, he still thinks one of those cracks might swallow him whole. Maybe… Maybe he shouldn’t have come back.
“Where should we put your stuff?” Jungkook asks.
“Oh. Um…”
“You can have the spare bedroom.”
Seokjin shakes his head a little Jungkook’s way. “Too soon.”
Jimin remembers Namjoon mentioning they have a spare bedroom up here. He could claim it as his own if he wanted, but he has no interest. He wants to be here, desperately. But he’s not so delusional to think he might remain here forever.
“It’s not got any furniture in it yet, baby,” Hoseok says softly to Jungkook.
Jungkook grows red. “Right.”
“Downstairs,” Jimin says.
He can tell that things are growing awkward. Sure, they all want to help, but it’s clear no one knows what to say or do—especially himself. But he knows the room downstairs. It’s essentially his. He’s spent enough time there to seek comfort from the familiarity right now—even though, really, he doesn’t want to be alone.
“Tomorrow we can go furniture shopping,” Jungkook says. “I’m free and Yoongi, you could take time off… And Namjoon, maybe you could come too? If Jin hyung doesn’t need you?”
Furniture shopping?
Oh.
Have they already agreed to give him the spare bedroom? They keep having conversations without him, and not knowing what they said didn’t bother him much before, but it bothers him now. He doesn’t like his decisions being made for him.
“Sorry, no,” Jimin says. “I’m just going to keep sleeping in the guestroom.”
Jungkook worries his lower lip. “Oh. Okay.” He heaves Jimin’s bags onto his shoulders, turning to Namjoon to grab the third one. “I’ll bring your stuff down for you.”
He’s gone before anyone can respond. Namjoon has this endeared smile on his face. When he catches Jimin looking, he turns to him and says, “He really wants you here. I think he’s overeager. Don’t worry though. We’re not going to force you to go furniture shopping if you don’t want to.”
“I don’t want to,” Jimin confirms, maybe too harshly.
“Yeah, I figured.”
Seokjin clears his throat, but before he can speak, Taehyung is moving forward. “Hoseok and I have to go,” he says, looking apologetic. “Sorry, I know it’s last minute. We’re technically on duty right now but we wanted to bring you… back.”
So Jimin was right. They shouldn’t have been around today. He feels the weight of something on his chest, knowing they went so far out of their way just to find him.
He counters it by keeping his tone flippant. “Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll see you later.”
Taehyung’s hand twitches, and he starts to take another step forward, but then he shakes himself, grabbing Hoseok’s hand instead. “Okay. See you.”
Hoseok follows along, even though there’s the glimmer of something in his eyes, like maybe he’s regretting going so soon. But whatever is on his mind remains unspoken. A few seconds later, the door is shutting behind them, leaving Jimin alone with Seokjin, Namjoon and Yoongi.
Jimin tries to get ahead of the tension. “I guess I’ll head down to sleep.”
Seokjin opens his mouth. “We can talk some more if you want—”
“I’m tired.”
“That makes sense.”
Seokjin surprises Jimin by striding up to him, stopping when they are only inches apart and then wrapping his arms around him. Despite the stiffness of the hug, it feels warm. Jimin returns it, wishing he could pull him closer but afraid the desperation may push him away.
“Goodnight then.”
Jimin hums, pulling out of the hug. He glances at Namjoon and Yoongi uneasily, refusing to instigate more hugs when it already doesn’t feel right accepting them in the first place. Whatever made him feel certain that coming back was the right decision flits away from him right now.
“Goodnight,” Jimin says, then before anyone can argue, he speeds past Namjoon and Yoongi, heading downstairs.
He enters the bathroom first, eyeing himself in the mirror as he mutters “stupid, you’re so stupid” to himself. Then he washes his face and rinses his mouth. He’s not drunk but he doesn’t feel quite right either. He feels like a towel wrung dry and tossed aside. He doesn’t know how to make it better, or if he can.
All he can think is that he shouldn’t have come back. Their reassurances don’t mean anything in the grand scheme of things. Maybe they just want him here because they see him as some sort of prize, a villain to play with and discard when they’re done with him.
As wrong as he knows the thought is, he can’t get rid of it. He sees the quick retreat of Taehyung and Hoseok, sees the hesitation in Namjoon’s and Yoongi’s eyes, feels the awkwardness of Seokjin’s hug and now he feels incredibly stupid. He shouldn’t be here. They don’t really like him. How could they? How could they?
He’s so lost in thought that when he enters his bedroom, it doesn’t register that Jungkook is there at first, perched at the foot of his bed. When he does notice, he flinches back, lips falling open in surprise. He forgot the younger had brought his stuff down for him.
“I put your bags over there,” Jungkook says before Jimin can say anything. He points at where the bags lay in a row against the wall. “I decided not to take the records back. You were right. They’re yours. I just… didn’t want you to leave. But you’re staying now, right?”
The hope in his voice does something funny to Jimin’s thoughts, freezing the spiral of them, enough for him to respond, “I… I think so.”
“Okay.” Jungkook draws his lips into his mouth, eyes trained Jimin’s way. “It scared me when I saw the records gone from my room. A- And when I came here to check on you and you were just… gone. Sorry.”
He wipes his eyes, hanging his head. The spiral in Jimin’s head dissipates as he takes in the emotion in Jungkook’s voice. Tentatively he approaches, like one might a frightened animal, scared of provoking it.
“I… I feel like I’m always messing up around you,” Jungkook continues, his voice soft and fragile. “And you left after we… I don’t know what I was thinking. But you didn’t seem… happy about what happened. I thought I had asked for too much again. I didn’t think you were home to hear me talk about that with Yoongi. But it was still my fault that you left in the end. I’m sorry.”
Jimin goes to sit beside Jungkook, and the other straightens his legs so they hang off the side of the bed. They’re mirrors of each other now.
“I was always looking for an excuse to leave,” Jimin says. The admission lifts something off his chest. “I think I still am. Everyone asked me to come back… but I don’t feel like I’m wanted here.”
“You are,” Jungkook says with alarm, then again, more fiercely, “You are.”
“Hoseok and Taehyung just left and Seokjin… Well, he hugged me but it was too… polite. Like he did it out of pity. And Namjoon and Yoongi looked like they wanted to be anywhere else but around me—”
“They’re idiots.” Jungkook’s declaration has Jimin nearly choking on a laugh, even though he still feels like crap. “They want to respect your boundaries but they won’t even ask you what those are. Idiots.”
Jimin can feel some of the earlier tension he felt lifting. “It’s just… This isn’t my home. I feel like I’m crossing a boundary just by being here. How could I…”
“Go on,” Jungkook encourages when he falls silent.
“I can’t just ask for…” Jimin hates how Jungkook stares at him with those large eyes of his, eagerly waiting for him to finish his sentences. Jimin just shrugs. It’s embarrassing to say it out loud.
“If you want something, you have to ask for it,” Jungkook says.
Jimin chuckles somberly. “Or you just sweep in and steal it before anyone else can.”
“Huh? Oh.” Jungkook gives him a sheepish look, because that’s exactly what he did when he stole the records before Jimin could.
“Yeah.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“Jimin…”
Jimin glances at Jungkook at the sound of his name, noticing how close they’re sitting to one another. “What?”
“Not to be presumptuous… hyungs say it’s a bad habit of mine… but uh… do you maybe want a hug?”
Jimin could find another way to describe Jungkook’s presumptuous habits. He’s good at reading people, and maybe also because of all their aggressive arguments, they’ve seen the raw parts of each other that hide behind the tough personas. Jimin has let a lot slip out, and Jungkook has seen it all.
Jimin has realised it multiple times tonight, but he’s uncomfortable when it comes to any sort of intimacy, and so saying yes feels near impossible. He doesn’t know how to deal with his feelings directly, and even now as he teeters on the edge of yes, he still questions whether that would make him selfish. It causes him to hesitate, unable to reciprocate Jungkook’s forwardness.
“I want to give you a hug,” Jungkook says, searching his face.
Jimin can feel the tears creeping in again, suddenly so utterly helpless because it’s just a hug. It’s such a small thing, something his dad used to give him all the time and he accepted readily.
He pulls his lips into his mouth, so close to letting his defences take over and asking Jungkook, once again, to leave him alone. But it’s the exact opposite of what he wants. He does, he tells himself. He does want a hug.
“This is so stupid,” he mumbles to himself.
Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, but otherwise he doesn’t question the words. And anyway he can’t, because Jimin goes for the hug, arms flying over Jungkook’s shoulders as he pulls him in. Immediately, Jungkook’s arms hook around his waist, chin tucked over his shoulder. The touch eases the tightness in Jimin’s chest. His lips tremble. His eyes grow wet. He clutches the back of Jungkook’s shirt, crumpling the material in his hands.
A soft whimper escapes his mouth and suddenly he’s hunching over, breaking down once again over nothing—or maybe it’s time to acknowledge that it’s everything. Everything has broken him, and he doesn’t even know where the pieces have gone to put them back together.
“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Jungkook soothes as Jimin cries. The tears just won’t stop. There’s so much of it, a waterfall of emotions he doesn’t know what to do with.
“Th- This is—” he tries, hiding his face in Jungkook’s shoulder, “s- so stupid.”
“It’s not stupid,” Jungkook reassures.
Jimin just shakes his head in response, not believing it.
He isn’t sure how long they sit like that. At some point, his chest stops heaving and his eyes dry and he’s able to sit back with a deep sigh. He avoids eye contact but doesn’t feel quite so sad, maybe just embarrassed.
“Sorry,” Jimin says. He must look awful. How can Jungkook stand to look at him?
“There’s nothing to apologise for.”
That’s just another thing Jimin can’t quite believe, but he stifles his retorts, afraid of being annoying. He stares at the carpeted floor, tracing the patterns with his eyes. How long will he remain this time? When they realise his true villainous heart, will they regret asking him to return? And when he finds his mother, how will they react when he kills her?
He can imagine it. They may be willing to look past the so-called hero camp that he burned, but that’s only because they don’t really know what happened. He should tell them the whole story. His tears are a product of guilt, not sorrow for what those kids went through.
But he doesn’t. Perhaps there’s a reason he let Jungkook and Yoongi convince the others that his actions back then were just retaliation against a force that was holding him against his will. Perhaps that’s why when Seokjin concluded that there was a lot they didn’t understand, he let them assume that he was still inherently good despite his evil deeds.
Because he’s selfish, and when he saw that they still wanted him—despite their misunderstandings—he couldn’t help but latch onto that. Use that to experience a modicum of comfort, of which he lacked most of his life.
He thought, when Jungkook and Yoongi discovered his involvement with that ‘hero camp’, that his cover was blown. It turns out that they still sympathise with him. And what is a villain to do, except trick his followers into believing his innocence for his own benefit?
One day, as planned, Jimin will leave, and he will break six hearts in the process.
It’s the classic villain story. Who would he be if he didn’t, at least, attempt it?
Out loud, he chuckles, and Jungkook looks his way, curiosity in his eyes. Jimin shrugs, shifting to rest his head on Jungkook’s shoulder. It feels nice. Jungkook said all he has to do when he wants something is to ask for it. So he does.
“Stay with me tonight,” he says.
Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to say yes. It’s easy, Jimin sees now. He relaxes further, burying the relief he feels at not having to be alone tonight. Besides, it’s born out of selfishness. He can’t delude himself into believing he might actually want them for the simple sake of wanting them.
He’s not capable of that, but he’ll take what he can get.
He is a villain through and through, after all.
Notes:
until jimin believes that ot6 are truly on his side, he will keep trying to rewrite the narrative of his and their desires in his head as he sees fit. but he’s one step closer to discovering redemption – among other things – and i’m excited to explore this part of his healing with you all! :D let me know your thoughts if you have any <3
Chapter 9
Notes:
i am SO SORRY for not updating for so long. i moved countries recently and have been super busy job searching etc etc. i'll admit i've had this chapter written for a while, but i was so unsatisfied with it and couldn't bear to post it. but rereading it today, i realised that i was just feeling a lot of self doubt about my writing. revisiting this now has made me so happy - i missed these characters and i'm so excited to tell the rest of their story. thank you to all my patient readers who have been waiting! i hope you enjoy the chapter <3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Jimin wakes up to a darkened room, the curtains partly blocking out the morning sunlight. He fell asleep on his side, so the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes is Jungkook, lightly snoring beside him.
They didn’t get up to anything last night. It doesn’t feel right anymore, not knowing what he knows, not now that he’s chosen to be here. If he gave into their advances now, it would feel like committing to something he’s not ready for. He doesn’t even know why he’s back. With morning, and sleep, has come clarity.
And clarity tells him maybe he made a mistake.
He imagines the scene that would play out upon Jungkook’s waking, the domesticity that he wouldn’t be able to avoid. Never in his life has he had the luxury to be in close proximity to such a thing, and he gives a full body shudder, unable to see himself playing that role.
It doesn’t take him long to decide he needs to escape—if not the apartment then at least this room. He takes refuge in the gym, relieved to find it empty. Considering everything that happened yesterday, he decides he’s too physically, mentally and emotionally worn out to do anything more than a light workout.
He spends a long time on a mat, stretching this way and that, loosening all the tension in his muscles. When he’s had enough, he lies on his back, hands at rest by his sides. He’s relaxed enough to close his eyes, to breathe deeply and let the faint sounds around him consume his thoughts.
When he was a kid, he always hated meditating, but after escaping the facility, he sometimes found solace in it. Especially in the beginning, when he couldn’t control the crushing helplessness of being utterly alone, it helped calm him enough to realise it wasn’t as catastrophic as his mind tried to make it seem.
He was okay, he was okay, he was okay.
Right now, he replays the same mantra. Perhaps he could have done with a round of meditating yesterday. Perhaps then things wouldn’t have felt so helpless, and he wouldn’t have felt so compelled to come back. They caught him in a weak state is all. It’s not like he really, truly, actually needs them.
The thought settles inside him.
That’s right.
He doesn’t need them.
“Sleeping?”
Jimin’s eyes snap open to see an upside down Namjoon peering at him. Cheeks reddening, Jimin abruptly sits up, surprised that he hadn’t heard anyone come in. But with Namjoon’s powers over air, perhaps it’s not actually a surprise he can move quietly at all.
Namjoon unrolls a mat of his own, taking up space beside Jimin. “Don’t let me stop you. I’ll be quiet.”
“I wasn’t sleeping,” Jimin retorts.
“Uh-huh.”
“I was… meditating.”
“Ah.” Namjoon gives him a side eye as he stands at the top of his mat. “Didn’t realise that was something you were capable of.”
Jimin has always been quick to anger, and it’s no different now. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Namjoon giggles. He giggles. It puts his dimples on full display and Jimin can’t look away. “Sorry, sorry, it was a joke! I spend too much time with Seokjin, I think, though his jokes are far more cringey. If he asks you if you know what colour burgers are, tell him you don’t want to hear it.”
Jimin frowns. “Couldn’t I just answer what colour burgers are?”
“Not unless you know the right answer.”
“The meat is brown and—”
“You’re already wrong.”
“It’s a trick question,” Jimin argues. “Because a burger is made up of a variety of colours. Is that what I’m supposed to say?”
“Oh, you sweet thing,” Namjoon says as he folds himself in half in an attempt to reach his toes from a standing position. His head is turned Jimin’s way, and his expression is full of exaggerated pity. “Seokjin’s going to have way too much fun with you.”
Jimin huffs, not liking the implications of that. Deciding he has better things to do than engage in a pointless conversation, he lies back down and closes his eyes. He figures Namjoon will leave him alone this way.
A minute or two passes where Jimin is hyper aware of Namjoon breathing beside him, likely performing some stretches on his mat. Jimin feels antsy, unable to get his mind to focus on anything else except what might be happening with Namjoon, but he’s not going to open his eyes, not just yet, not when barely any time has passed at all.
He listens as Namjoon grunts a couple of times, then sighs, his breathing loud for a bit before growing soft again. And then his movements change, his feet padding across the floor, loud enough for Jimin to realise he’s moving to another part of the gym.
Curious, Jimin cracks his eyes open and turns his head, relieved when he sees that Namjoon has his back towards him. He’s standing by a bench, a round weight in his hands, which he starts adding to a bar. He must be preparing to do some bench presses. When Namjoon shifts to grab another weight, Jimin quickly shuts his eyes.
He hears a few weights clang against each other. He counts to five, then opens his eyes again. Namjoon has his back to him again, sliding on another weight. Jimin watches the way his muscles contract and expand with his movements, how his skin-tight shirt does nothing to hide his firm body.
When Namjoon’s feet shift, Jimin quickly shuts his eyes once more, pretending he’s been meditating all this time instead of staring. He must be crazy that he wants to attempt a third clandestine look. But, well, he has been lucky twice. Namjoon has probably forgotten he’s here.
So Jimin opens his eyes, turns his head minutely, and readies himself to catch another glimpse of Namjoon—only to see Namjoon looking right at him, now standing on the other side of the bar, a weight in his hand. He seems a little startled himself, like he hadn’t expected Jimin to open his eyes, like maybe he didn’t think he would be caught staring too.
Jimin clears his throat, swiftly looking back at the ceiling. It’s too late to close his eyes now. He’s already been caught, though he’s not sure if Namjoon caught him or the other way around.
Feigning nonchalance, he sits up, dragging a hand through his hair. Okay. Okay, it’s time for him to go. He can feel an awkward tension seeping into the air and he doesn’t want to prolong it. He should go.
“I should—”
“Do you want to—”
Jimin’s words catch in his throat while Namjoon laughs like this whole thing amuses him. But it’s not amusing. Jimin sits frozen, unable to gather the words he needs to say what he needs to say. Namjoon takes the opportunity to try again.
“Do you want to spot me?” he asks, gesturing to the barbell. When Jimin doesn’t answer right away, he goes on, “Just, the weights are heavy and it’s good practice. To be safe.”
Jimin is about to say that Namjoon could just use his powers if anything went astray, but he bites his tongue before he can. It’s not like he has anything else to do right now. And maybe a small part of him is curious to see those muscles working at full capacity. It’s been a while since they tangled in Namjoon’s sheets… a while since he got a proper look at those arms.
“Sure,” Jimin says, getting to his feet. He walks over as Namjoon finishes adding weights to the other side.
“Have you done this before?” Namjoon asks.
“Um… not really. But I’ve seen people do it. I know what to do.”
Namjoon’s lip twitches. “Okay.”
“And I’m a Super. I think I’ll manage.”
The twitch turns into half a smile. “I have no doubts.”
Jimin watches Namjoon lie down on the bench, his feet still flat on the floor. He waits until Namjoon gives him the go ahead to pass him the barbell, then he steps back, curious eyes roving all across that body once it begins working. His arms bulge, his face tenses, his expression grows concentrated.
Namjoon is a good looking man. He’s got everything going for him. The brains. The looks. The boyfriends who hang off his every word. The determination when he sets his mind to something. It’s as impressive as it is annoying, and the feeling grows tenfold while he watches him work.
Jimin recalls his first experiences with weights, back at the facility when the scientists wanted to test his power over objects within his phantom dome. He can lift things within it, move things to his will, and they had him lift a barbell just like this one, adding weights, testing him, doing it over and over until it got too heavy for his mind to handle.
Have him practise that everyday, he remembers one of them telling another.
Just another one of their experiments, chipping at the already broken pieces of him as if he wasn’t a real person with his own wants and desires. And now? Those wants and desires were singular for so long, it’s strange to find enjoyment in watching Namjoon work, pushing himself, arms strained but mind focused and determined. It feels distant from Jimin, like a place he’ll never reach himself.
Afterwards, Namjoon sets the bar down and drags a cloth across his forehead. “That was tough,” he says, breathing deeply. “Thanks for spotting me.”
Jimin shakes his thoughts from his head and tries to sound nonchalant when he answers. “No problem.”
“The others, they’re always praising my muscles,” Namjoon says, lifting up his arms to look at them. “I was pretty lanky when I first moved in, but they’ve been great motivators. Now I can’t remember what I did when I wasn’t at the gym.”
Jimin begins to roll up his mat, thinking he’ll start making his exit soon. He can’t say he disagrees with the others though. Those muscles are nice to look at. “You care a lot about what they think,” he notes.
“I’ve always been that sort of person. A people pleaser to the end.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” Namjoon sits up, spinning on the bench to face Jimin. “You don’t think so?”
Jimin shrugs, setting his mat up against the wall. “I never really thought about it… I guess you just always seemed more sure of yourself, like you don’t care what people think.”
“The sure of myself thing comes and goes, but I always cared what people thought about me, and how my actions might affect them.”
Jimin stares at Namjoon, a bit in disbelief. “But you’re a thief. Your actions are always going to affect others.”
Namjoon winces, letting out a little chuckle. “I choose my victims carefully now.”
Jimin senses there’s more to the story, but asking is like saying he’s interested, and he’s afraid it might come across as too forward. Sure, he may have taken their hand last night in coming back, but this is still temporary for him. Sooner or later, he’s still going to have to leave.
“I can tell you all about it over a cup of coffee?” Namjoon suddenly suggests.
Jimin instantly wants to say yes, because it would mean something different this way, right? If Namjoon’s the one who suggested it, the one who asked, then Jimin can spin his explanation, say he didn’t really want to spend more time with Namjoon; he was just being polite by not refusing.
So he answers, “Sure.”
Namjoon shoots him an excited smile, which Jimin has to turn away from, even though he very much wants to burn that excitement into his memory, and hold it close like something dear.
🔥
There’s this café tucked in an alley about a block away from the apartment. It’s where Namjoon takes Jimin. They slip out of the place without running into anyone, to which Jimin is grateful for because he would have felt like he had to explain himself, but with just Namjoon, it’s manageable. He can keep telling himself this was Namjoon’s idea, and he’s only here as a reluctant participant.
They order their drinks at the counter before finding a seat at the back, away from prying ears. Jimin sits with his back against the wall, so he has a clear view of the rest of the place, as well as the door. Somehow it makes him feel more secure, knowing what’s around him, and he wonders if Namjoon chose the other seat on purpose.
“So I promised you a story,” Namjoon says after they’ve retrieved their coffees from the barista.
Jimin crosses his legs, pretending to be more interested in his drink. “Only if you want to tell it.”
“I do, I do.” Namjoon runs a hand through his hair, body angling a little away. “It’s hard to talk about, actually. I want to say it, just, how do I put it into words… You know, the others were all there. They saw it happen so I guess I’ve never actually said any of it out loud. Even Jungkook, who we met later, heard it from the others. So I think you’ll be the first person I tell.”
“You don’t have to.” Though Jimin wants him to. “We can just drink our coffees and go.” But he hopes Namjoon says it, because being the first recipient of a story feels special somehow, and Jimin selfishly craves it.
“No, I want to. Just… Feel free to shut me up anytime.” Namjoon laughs, sounding just a tad uncomfortable. He’s gearing himself up. Jimin recognises the signs for it, so he stays quiet, just listening, just observing. It’s all he feels able to do.
“When I was younger,” Namjoon finally begins, “I made a lot of poor decisions. I really thought I was in the right though. I came from nothing. My parents weren’t good people and could barely take care of themselves. I had this power that they didn’t even realise I had, and since I wasn’t about to be taken into a Super’s programme, I found other ways I could put it to use.
“That’s when I started to steal. It was just small things at first. Some cash from a stranger’s pocket so I wouldn’t go to bed hungry. Clothes off a drying rack in someone’s backyard. Food right off someone’s table. Shoes on display at a store. It was easy with my powers, and I figured it was just little things. What harm could it do?
“But I suppose when you start having nice things, it’s hard to just let it go, you know? And after leaving my parents, I managed to set myself up in a one bedroom with a roof that didn’t leak, and I could afford clothes that actually fit me. But I wanted more. I wanted to be like other people who just had things because. I wanted to fit in and live a normal life, and the only way I knew how was to take it from the people who already had it.”
Namjoon pauses to take a sip of his drink, eyes faraway, caught in the story. Jimin doesn’t say anything, doesn’t want to interrupt.
“One day, someone approached me to complete this job. I’d never seen stealing as that—a job. But the money was good and it seemed like my ticket to even better things, so I did it. More jobs came in after that. I created a name for myself—Stealo. You know all about him, I’m sure.”
Jimin thought he knew everything about Stealo, that he worked for Luna, that he was powerful and that no one could touch him. But things aren’t quite so clear cut as that, he’s starting to see.
“Anyway,” Namjoon goes on, “that’s what I did. I stole for other people, and I could suddenly afford even nicer things—those dress shoes, that suit, a car I couldn’t even drive. And then one day, I almost got caught. Well, actually, I did get caught, and in my attempt to escape, I used my powers to shove a security guard away from me. He ended up falling from a roof. I was flustered. I’d never used my powers like that before, and I underestimated how strong the gust of air was and…”
“You killed him?” Jimin asks.
“No, but he’s never going to walk again. Jin’s the only reason I’m not in jail right now, but sometimes I think I should be. His life wasn’t the only one I ruined.”
“If we’re holding ourselves to society’s standards then I should be in prison too,” Jimin says, though it’s not something that’s ever crossed his mind. They couldn’t hold him there, not in a regular prison, and he refuses to be taken again.
“From what I hear, you didn’t have a choice,” Namjoon argues. “I did. I could have done my research. I could have seen how my actions were putting people out of jobs, people like my parents, like I used to be. I had this incredible power, and instead of helping those people, I ruined their lives. Some of them are never going to recover.”
Jimin mulls over this. He senses a lot of guilt coming from Namjoon about all of this, similar to the throes of guilt he’s often found himself buried under. But he doesn’t know how to help him, or what to say. Sometimes those things just don’t go away.
“I thought I didn’t deserve the love and support I got from Seokjin, and then the others too, as we all got to know one another,” Namjoon goes on to say. “But you know, in the end, they made me realise I was beating myself up for nothing. If I really cared, I could do something about it. Try to change those lives I ruined. Did I care enough to do that?”
When Namjoon doesn’t answer the question, Jimin prompts him. “Did you?”
“I’m still figuring that out,” Namjoon says. He looks more present now, eyes not so far away. “I helped that man I pushed off a building, paid for all his hospital bills. I make small donations sometimes. I guess I just want to help people like me, but I’m not looking to be some grand hero. Mostly, I just want to be happy. I want to be loved.”
Those words feel like a fantasy. Jimin can’t even begin to imagine what that might be like. Even the little glimpses he’s seen aren’t enough. It’s like there’s a thick wall separating him from those things, and no amount of hacking at it has made a dent.
It’s nice that Namjoon found that balance though. In the end it’s a nice story, with a perfect happy ending. Jimin doesn’t belong inside it.
“Do you have any hopes and dreams?” Namjoon asks. “I mean, outside your plot for revenge.” He gives a lighthearted chuckle like he doesn’t want to offend, like he’s genuinely curious.
Jimin shifts uncomfortably. “Not really.”
“This… goal of yours,” Namjoon says carefully. “It’s been guiding you for a long time.”
The conversation is nearing dangerous territory. Jimin’s voice catches in his throat, and he’s unable to confirm or deny. But suddenly Namjoon is retracting the words, shaking himself.
“Sorry. What am I doing? Ignore that. I’m just…” Something in Namjoon’s expression changes, goes from careful and calculating to just… melting. It’s like he suddenly gives up. Or gives in to whatever ongoing fight he’s having inside his head.
Because Jimin can see it, in the way he talks, that he’s constantly thinking—of what to say, perhaps even how to say it.
“I keep thinking something I say might help you. I have this bad habit of wanting everything to be wrapped neat in a pretty bow. I did it just now, and I didn’t even mean to. I want to be happy and loved? Seriously? When sometimes I can’t open up at all? I’ll go days without talking to anyone, without telling anyone where I’m going. Who am I to give you life advice when I barely have a handle on my own? I really hate that about myself.”
Namjoon’s expression turns guarded when out of everyone, Jimin always thought he was the most open of them all. Always ready with a smile or the blunt truth about something, always just saying what’s on his mind. So certain of himself, he has mob bosses trembling in their boots.
Jimin doesn’t know what to do in the face of this.
“We can leave whenever you’re ready,” Namjoon says, draining the last of his cup. “Sorry for dragging you out here.”
For some reason, Jimin can’t bring himself to finish his own drink. He holds it within his palms, thinking, going over all the things he could say, trying to find some way to just— tie things up nicely, as Namjoon put it. Just so they don’t have to walk away from this with bitter tastes in their mouths.
It’s the first time Jimin has felt like the pretty picture in his head is just an illusion. That photograph of the six of them at the beach that Namjoon keeps by his bedside is only a tiny snapshot of the real, complex lives they live and the feelings they go through, together and apart.
There are no cracks in the wall that separates Jimin from them, but if the wall before was a solid mass, now it stands translucent, and he can make out some of the details on the other side.
They aren’t pretty. They’re a web of illusions on top of realities, of spoken words versus that which goes unspoken and unacknowledged. It’s pain and sadness and hopes and dreams and everything in between. It’s flawed. It’s cracked. No perfect bows to tie it all together in sight.
It’s terrifying to see, because all this time Jimin has been so incredibly insistent about drawing a line between himself and them, refusing to see anything less than perfection. Because if they were perfect, Jimin couldn’t fit in.
And if he couldn’t fit in, he didn’t have to try.
Jimin ends up finishing his drink without a word, but he doesn’t want to leave things like this. It’s not because he’s come to some grand realisation—that if he tries a little, he might finally see the picture crystal clear.
Simply, he just wants to say something to Namjoon, offer him a bit of himself after Namjoon revealed so much.
So he says, “I wanted to come out here with you. I wanted to know more about you. So… thank you for sharing that.”
Namjoon looks at him in surprise, processing it for a few seconds until his lips peel back in a smile. It’s the sort of expression Jimin could look at for hours, a picture that seems more perfect perhaps because Jimin knows some of the flaws that lie underneath. If Namjoon can still smile through his struggles, what might Jimin be capable of?
It’s a far fetched dream—but it’s a dream.
And sometimes dreams become reality.
🔥
Jimin didn’t know things would go back to normal so quickly. There may be a lot to talk about, but the others don’t make a big deal out of it. Later that day, Jimin finds Yoongi and Jungkook grabbing a meal in the kitchen and joins them. Neither mention yesterday’s incidents at all, and afterwards Jungkook asks if Jimin wants to read some records together.
Dressed in comfy clothes and sprawled out on Jimin’s bed, they accomplish about an hour of this before Jimin asks to stop. He’s in a slightly better mood since talking to Namjoon, and reading about his past is starting to put a dampener on it. He doesn’t mention that to Jungkook, but the younger accepts it readily anyway.
“What should we do instead?” Jungkook asks.
Jimin didn’t think that far ahead. “I don’t know. What do you like to do when you have nothing to do?”
“We could…” A glint enters Jungkook’s eyes. “We could go furniture shopping!”
“No. I want to stay in this room.”
“But the other room is better,” Jungkook argues. “The bathroom is attached. You get a walk in closet. You could get a desk and sofas and just— You could organise these records properly. Just think of all the possibilities!”
Jimin rolls his eyes. It goes unsaid that he’s not going to be here long enough to warrant any of that. It feels too mean to say out loud, though. “If you keep talking about this, I’m just going to find something I can do alone.”
“Fine, fine, fine,” Jungkook is quick to say. “How about we watch a movie then?”
That— actually sounds wonderful. Jimin is sick of reading about crocodile and dolphin and the rest of the animal crew that make up the scientists who hurt him. Better to waste away in front of the television. Better to escape the painful reality that is his life.
“Great!” Jimin responds, climbing off the bed.
Jungkook eyes him with what looks like wonderment, but he doesn’t say anything about Jimin’s chipper response, just slips off the bed too to join him. “We can watch it on the big screen in the living room. Maybe some of the others will join.”
“Okay.”
Jimin makes popcorn while Jungkook knocks on doors to see who’s home and wants to join. It’s the middle of the afternoon and Hoseok and Taehyung are still away; it seems Seokjin is too, but Jimin hears Namjoon’s and Yoongi’s voices pretty soon. He picks up a few of the words being exchanged.
“Where’d he go? I thought he was going to stay home today,” Jungkook’s saying.
“He went to meet an informant,” Namjoon answers. “There have been a lot more rumours about that new hero I told you about. He just wants to stay ahead of our rivals, pick out what’s real and what’s not. Apparently this new hero is a pretty big deal.”
“We get plenty of new heroes all the time. Why’s this one so special?”
“I don’t know… We’ve heard a lot of different things. Apparently he— she— whoever they are— is vicious, and cunning, and they have powers beyond anything we can imagine. They’re supposed to be the ideal hero, but others say they’re brainwashed, a true dog of the government.”
“So, like, they follow orders?” Jungkook asks.
“That’s my understanding of it. We’ve been told to be wary.”
Jungkook hums, his voice growing closer. “Odd. I hope hyung finds out what he needs to know.” The voice is right behind Jimin now. “I found two more takers for our movie.”
Jimin glances away from the microwave, spying Jungkook entering the kitchen, who heads to the cupboard to grab some glasses while Yoongi opens the fridge, eyeing the options there for drinks.
“Cool,” Jimin says, turning back to stare at the popcorn popping in the microwave. It has about a minute to go.
“What do you want to drink?” Yoongi asks.
“Just water,” Jimin says after the others have rattled off their choices. The popcorn is noisy inside the microwave, more pieces popping into existence. It’s sort of meditative, doing this. Popcorn used to be a treat back in the day, but he rarely got to watch it come to life. The transformation of one thing to another… it fascinates him.
“So,” Namjoon says, interrupting his thoughts. Jimin can see his elbows propped on the kitchen island out of the corner of his eye. “What are we watching?”
“Dunno,” Jungkook says. “This was Jimin’s idea, so it’s up to him.”
Jimin glances behind him with a frown. “This wasn’t my idea. And anyway, I don’t know any good movies.”
Jungkook sidles up next to him. “You don’t have to be nervous about choosing,” he teases.
Jimin could shove him, but he’s pretty sure that would violate the promise he made with Seokjin not to hurt his boyfriends, so he just bristles visibly, which is evidently the reaction Jungkook wanted, because he laughs.
“Fine,” Jungkook says, just as the microwave dings. “We’ll browse together.”
Jimin straightens his shoulders, feigning indifference. A minute later, they’re all getting comfortable in the living room. Jimin sits on one side of the long couch, and Jungkook immediately takes the seat right next to him. Namjoon sits on Jungkook’s other side, and Yoongi takes a seat on a one-person couch.
They spend a while browsing, long enough that most of the popcorn vanishes into their bellies in the process. Jimin never knew it could take so long to choose a movie, but he doesn’t really know what he wants to watch, and the others seem determined to make him pick. After the sixteenth, “I don’t know,” Jungkook gives him a withering look and asks if he really wants to watch a movie.
“I don’t know what’s good,” Jimin argues.
“You can never really know until you watch it.”
“Seems like a lot of responsibility to put on one person.”
“We could vote,” Namjoon suggests.
Jimin leans forward to catch his eye. “I like that idea.”
“I vote for voting too,” Yoongi pipes up.
Jungkook looks from Yoongi to Namjoon and then back before grumbling, “Fine. I just wanted to see what Jimin would choose, but evidently the whole world is against me.”
“Aw, baby, did we ruin your plan?” Namjoon goes to ruffle Jungkook’s hair.
Yoongi smiles Jungkook’s way, his lips half amused and half endeared. Jimin feels his cheeks warm from the simple interaction and pointedly turns to the screen to avoid getting caught in it.
“At least this way, we’ll actually watch a movie before the end of the day,” Yoongi says, and that’s just— rude, the way he says it all tauntingly, obviously making a quip about Jimin’s inability to choose a movie.
Jimin reddens further. “I’m just trying to be fair.”
Yoongi grins teasingly. “Sure you are.”
Okay, so Jimin is a little nervous about picking a movie. So what? He’s not exactly a fountain of knowledge when it comes to this sort of stuff. He usually just watched whatever was playing on the TV on whatever channel was available in whatever motel he managed to find himself at. He’s not going to apologise for that, and he’s not going to feel bad for dragging this out as much as he has.
This is Jungkook’s fault anyway, first for saying this was Jimin’s idea and then for making him choose when he wasn’t ready to. Jimin’s pretty sure Jungkook did it to tease him. He thinks maybe Jungkook enjoys seeing him flustered.
It takes them less than a minute to choose a movie with their voting regime in place, though that could also be because they’re all a little impatient and all voted yes on the first one as a result.
The movie they pick is some animated one he’s never seen, but it looks fun if the premise is anything to go by and he’s ready to get sucked into it. It begins as all other movies do, some of the credits showing up on screen, and Jimin ignores everything else in favour of escaping his reality.
If only Jungkook would do the same. Half a minute into the movie, he’s shifting to pry the blanket hung over the top of the couch behind them, apologising in a way that doesn’t sound like an apology at all before draping it over not only his own lap but Jimin’s too. Jimin can ignore it; he can even appreciate it. It was getting a little chilly in here anyway.
What he can’t ignore is Jungkook stretching his arms up five minutes later, one of them coming to rest over the top of the couch where the blanket was before. Jimin stiffens. Though Jungkook isn’t touching him, he’s close enough that Jimin can feel the phantom touch of his arm.
Jimin ignores this too. Jungkook is just getting comfortable is all.
Ten minutes go by without incident, save for a few comments Namjoon makes about the characters, all in good fun. Yoongi and Jungkook respond appropriately. Jimin doesn’t respond at all, too fixed on what’s happening on screen.
And then Jungkook turns to him, lips near his ear. “Are you comfortable?”
Jimin squirms. If he was comfortable before, he definitely isn’t now with Jungkook’s breath ghosting across his face. But he lies, wanting to continue watching the movie. “I’m good.”
“Okay, good.”
Jungkook leans back, but in the process his arm shifts lower, fully draping across Jimin’s shoulders.
Now, Jimin isn’t stupid. He knows when someone’s trying to come onto him. Jungkook isn’t being sly; he’s pretty sure the kid doesn’t know how to be. Jimin might have accepted it if he wasn’t so insecure about his position amongst them. They haven’t talked about where they go from here, and he doesn’t want to give Jungkook the wrong idea.
But if Jimin’s being honest, he likes the warmth of Jungkook holding him, even if it’s just by resting his arm across his shoulders. Jimin has half a mind to grab the hand just hanging there in order to get even closer than this. Suddenly he’s hyper aware of the few inches that separate their knees. If he shifts even a little, they’ll be touching there too.
Jimin looks down at the blanket draped across their laps, imagining how horrible—or wonderful—it might be if their thighs made contact. Swallowing, he tries to wipe those thoughts from his head by looking up, only to notice that Jungkook’s head is angled his way. He turns to him, catching his eye.
If there wasn’t anyone else in the room, Jimin might have drawn closer instinctively. If he wasn’t so aware of Namjoon’s and Yoongi’s presences so close by… If the TV screen didn’t shine a glow on the room and on their actions… he might cave into doing something stupid like kissing him.
Jimin doesn’t even know if he’s ready for that. He’s not sure if he’s ready to commit. He knows enough about what they want that he’s afraid to make a wrong move and break this equilibrium they only just began to build again.
Since when has he ever been afraid of such a thing? It’s a foreign feeling, and it’s making him overthink everything.
A breath leaves him when the hand hanging by Jimin’s shoulder brushes him softly as he and Jungkook continue staring at one another. It has heat blooming from Jimin’s middle, mixing with flurries that zip through his entire body. It’s like being in his shadow dome, this feeling like he’s about to float away. The air seems to sizzle with it.
And then Jungkook shifts. He knocks his thigh with Jimin’s, and it’s enough to knock the remaining air from his lungs. A part of him thinks he can’t breathe, not when the emotions zooming up and down his spine are crackling like this, urging him to do something, anything.
All he manages is a hand gripping Jungkook’s knee, but he thinks that’s plenty, because Jungkook’s other hand moves under the blanket to cling to his, fingers slotting together like they have so many times.
Neither of them actually close the distance between their faces. Jungkook falters, glancing at the screen, and Jimin turns towards it without much hesitation. But they remain connected in the ways they already are. Jimin goes so far as to sink back against the couch, body angling Jungkook’s way so their shoulders touch.
His eyes return to the movie, but his mind doesn’t seem capable of absorbing what’s going on anymore. It’s not that he’s hyper focused on all the ways he and Jungkook are touching. It’s more that his thoughts enter a lull, as if all the energy has been zapped from them—and all the overthinking disappears just like that. What’s left is this relaxed state he thinks might be even better than escapism.
It’s the first time he’s ever thought his own reality might have the potential to rival the false realities on screen.
But lying next to Jungkook like this, he doesn’t have to believe it. He just has to be, and it’s a feeling like no other.
🔥
“—don’t move! Just let him sleep for a bit.”
“Are you sure? He might not like that he fell asleep like this.”
“He’s probably exhausted. Just let him be for a few minutes.”
“Fine.”
The hushed voices stir him, but not enough to have him open his eyes. He’s too comfortable, all covered up and cosy, and he doesn’t want to lose that quite yet, even as he recalls where he is. Just a few more minutes, they said. He can steal a few more minutes, even if he’s not asleep anymore.
It occurs to him that he could have had this this morning. Too afraid of a show of domesticity, he escaped the bed where Jungkook still slept, yet here he is, cuddled up beside him, reluctant to leave.
What a hypocrite.
But he’s allowed to be, right? No one has to know. He can just keep pretending that he doesn’t know, shirk the responsibility that comes with acknowledging that he might actually want this.
Want to sleep on Jungkook’s shoulder. Want to spend hours chatting by Namjoon’s side. Want Yoongi to ask him to hang out, just because he likes his company.
All of that feels far away. But this? This is okay. This is different. A simple… accident.
“He trusts you,” Yoongi says then, and it’s all Jimin can do not to frown.
Jungkook lets out a questioning sound. “You think so?”
“I can feel it. I’m not trying to feel it, I promise, I just do.”
It’s strange to have what he’s feeling put into words. Jimin wants to argue, but arguing will ruin the comfort he’s found lying here. If he wants to keep this, he has to let them talk.
“I guess that’s… reassuring,” Jungkook says.
“It’s good he does,” Namjoon tells him. “I wish he’d trust all of us… but I’m glad it’s you. I think you get him in a way none of us do.”
“I don’t really know if that’s true. I drove him nuts at first and I probably made it worse for a while, but then… I don’t know. Something changed, I guess. I think just being there is what did it. There are a lot of things he wants and doesn’t know how to ask for. So I just make sure I’m there, always.”
“That’s what I mean. You’re so good at that.” Namjoon chuckles quietly, sounding a little sad. “I’m kind of jealous.”
Yoongi huffs. “I’m the empath here, and I swear I’m floundering half the time.”
“Maybe you’re just trying too hard. He’s just a person, like you and me. Joonie-hyung, you’re so eager to get to know him that you freeze up and Yoongi-hyung, you’re giving him all this space that he probably doesn’t know what to do with.”
“Do my ears deceive me?” Yoongi says. “Is our dongsaeng giving us romantic advice?”
“Not romantic, just advice.” Jimin can practically hear Jungkook rolling his eyes. “He’s not fragile but he’s not all that tough either like he pretends to be.”
That’s not right. Jimin’s tough. He’ll have to correct this perception Jungkook has of him later.
“You’re right about that,” Yoongi agrees, which is also wrong.
Jimin is going to have to have a chat with everyone about his toughness, maybe challenge them to a duel upstairs or something.
He’s tough.
“Don’t beat yourself up over it, Joon-ah. You didn’t do anything wrong,” Yoongi says, and Jimin wonders what he’s seeing, or feeling, that’s lost on Jimin. “I think in the end we can only do what we can do. He’s here, and we’re here, and that’s a start. Trust takes time to build.”
Namjoon only hums in response, sounding subdued.
“I just wish…” Jungkook cuts himself off. Jimin feels his thumb brush the back of his hand, where it still rests propped up on Jungkook’s thigh. “I wish he wasn’t hurting.”
Jimin’s heart gives a painful squeeze.
“You can’t control those things,” Yoongi tells him.
“I wish he wouldn’t hide things from us anymore. We can’t help if he doesn’t talk to us.”
“You can’t push him too much either.”
“I’m not! I’m not…” Jungkook lets out a long sigh. “Just thinking out loud, I guess.”
“I feel the same, Kookie,” Namjoon pipes up.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I went out with him this morning, you know? I thought if I opened up, maybe he would too, but I think I made him feel ambushed a little. It’s just… hard to take a step back. I think I just, how do I put it… I want him to meet me where I’m at. I’m ready to pursue something with him. I want to go all in. But it’s not fair to him.”
“It’s not,” Yoongi says.
“Exactly. I’m realising that more and more. I just want to take his hand and run to our future, but I haven’t even given him a chance to figure out what he wants. I want to do better. For him. For us.”
“You’re doing good, Joonie,” Jungkook says.
“Hm… I’m just a bit out of my element, but I’m trying.”
“That’s the best thing you can do,” Yoongi assures.
There’s a bit of silence. It’s strange to hear them talk about him while he’s here, but he supposes they must really believe he’s still sleeping. Jimin is strangely drawing comfort from their words. It’s like catching a real glimpse on the other side of that wall that separates them. He’s allowed to be here, temporarily, accidentally, as a fly on the wall.
It doesn’t feel intrusive, not like it would in reality.
“He looks so peaceful when he sleeps,” Namjoon whispers. “Like a manggaetteok. Do you think he’d wake if I poked his cheek?”
Jimin’s cheeks heat up at the thought. He can feel as well as hear as Jungkook chuckles, his chest vibrating. “You’re so cute, Joonie.”
“I’m cute? He’s cute!”
“A full on sap,” Jungkook goes on.
“Shut up. I know I’m being sappy.”
“Well don’t stop on our account,” Yoongi says.
“Shut up,” Namjoon says once more, but it lacks any heat, even sounds a little fond.
Jimin wants them to continue—needs to stockpile the warmth they’re throwing his way as if he’s about to embark on a cold winter alone. Craves their words of wisdom and comfort, their soft and gentle voices as they speak about him like he’s not some evil criminal who deserves to be punished.
He feels like just a normal guy, surrounded by people who love him.
Do they?
Could they?
Once they learned about everything he’s done?
But they do know, his mind supplies. They know and they asked you to stay.
It’s a misunderstanding, probably. They’ve twisted the narrative in order to make him out to be the victim instead of the perpetrator. Tomorrow when he wakes up, he’ll have to confront those thoughts, but right now, he basks in what they offer him while they think he’s asleep.
“I remember when you used to hate it when one of us was sappy with you,” Yoongi recalls.
Jungkook adds forlornly, “What I would give to have been around during Namjoon’s pre-sappy days.”
“That kid I used to be was ignorant and you should be glad you never met him.”
Yoongi laughs while Jungkook says, “It’s okay. I heard enough stories from the others to last a lifetime. But don’t you find it crazy that you’re now the sappiest of us all?”
“You say that when a whole Jung Hoseok exists?”
“He’s not sappy, his love just pours out of him, it’s different.”
“How?”
“Just is.”
“I beg to differ. In fact, I’d say Yoongi has reached pretty high levels of sappy himself. Remember that love song he wrote for Seok—”
“Okay,” Yoongi says abruptly. “How about we drop the sappy conversation and move onto something else?”
“Why?” Namjoon asks, sounding smug. “Are you embarrassed? Because I could keep going…”
Just then, Jimin’s nose tickles. There must be extra dust in the air because he can’t stop himself from twitching. Everyone falls silent, and he assumes they’re watching him. He should stop this pretence and just let them know he’s awake—has been for a while.
But he’s not ready to let go. Not yet.
So when Jungkook starts to move, he reaches up and clutches his shirt, head turning further into his neck. Jungkook freezes for a second, then asks quietly, “Are you awake?”
No one says anything.
Jimin relaxes after a moment, which does the trick, because a second later, Jungkook’s arm curls tighter around his shoulders. Jimin ends up half on top of him, but he doesn’t mind. This is better. The only thing that could top this is if Namjoon and Yoongi joined.
But pretend sleepers can’t be choosers, so he stays right where he is while the three of them continue to speak softly around him, their voices so gentle and soothing that in mere moments, his pretence becomes real once more.
Notes:
comments/kudos are always always appreciated!! <3
Chapter 10
Notes:
look at me with an update just under a month since the last one!! we get to see some more developments with some of the other members as well as touch on a bit about jimin's powers... and that's all i'll say. i hope you like the chapter!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Bangtan keep a rotating schedule so that Jimin is never alone. He notices this about a week and a half into his re-stay. Hoseok is the one who gives away that it’s a planned thing and not a coincidence thing, particularly when he barges into the training arena with his face flushed and exclaims, “Thank god you’re here! I’d never live down being the one to lose you.”
When Jimin asks “lose me?” with a frown, Hoseok waves his hands frantically and responds, “Nothing, nothing! Don’t worry about it!”
They’re keeping shifts, Jimin concludes.
That’s why Jungkook keeps inviting himself over most nights, and that’s why Yoongi was striding up and down the hallway outside his room yesterday afternoon. It’s probably why Seokjin wanted to do some online shopping the other day. And it’s also likely why Taehyung bought a few new two- and three-player video games, and why Namjoon has suggested movie nights every night he’s been home.
But Jimin can’t find it in himself to complain—can’t understand why he can’t find it in himself to complain.
Decides to ignore it, for now.
“What’ve you been up to?” Hoseok asks, stepping further into the room.
“Training,” Jimin says.
“Right, duh.”
There are various objects on the ground, weapons that Jimin pulled from the shelves with his powers. It’s been a while since he practised moving things within his shadow dome, and though it reminds him of those days in the facility, it’s not so triggering when he knows he’s in full control.
“Wanna train together?” Hoseok asks.
Jimin pulls an arm across his chest, stretching it, then does the same for the other side. It wouldn’t hurt, would it? And maybe he can make up for the one and only time they trained together, what seems like so long ago now.
“Sure,” Jimin says.
They clear the floor of weapons and weights, returning the items to their rightful places. Hoseok goes to shut the door, explaining, “If it gets noisy in here, at least it won’t bother anyone.”
“Right.”
“Hey.”
“Hm?”
Hoseok sounds serious, which is strange to Jimin because he hasn’t heard that tone from him much in the past. He’s usually all smiles. Hoseok takes a deep breath. “Last time we trained—”
“That won’t happen again,” Jimin interjects right away.
“But—”
“How should we do this?”
Hoseok’s mouth thins for a moment. It’s the first time Jimin has seen him look so displeased. But in the end he just says, “Let’s do something different than last time. But before we start, I actually wanted to ask you… Can you make your dome outside yourself?”
“No.”
There was a scientist back then, not the head of the place, but one of his assistants, who suggested it once. She got shot down immediately, but she came to him a few days later to try and make him do it. It didn’t work because…
“When I create a shadow dome, I become shadows too,” Jimin explains. “It’s almost like an extension of myself, if that makes sense. If I’m not a shadow, the dome can’t exist.”
“Then how did part of your dome remain when Taehyung used his light on you inside it? We could see you. You weren’t a shadow anymore.”
It’s a good question, one that Jimin hasn’t thought about at all. “I don’t know,” he ends up saying. “But I know Tae’s powers are like an inverse of mine. It basically cancels mine out.”
“I guess it only cancelled out the parts his light was touching… Were you consciously keeping your dome activated at the time? Do you remember?”
Jimin frowns. “I guess I must have been.”
“Hm… How far can your dome expand?”
“I could probably cover two to three blocks… Why?”
“I just wonder how mobile it is. Does it move with you, or do you move through it?”
“I move through it…” Though, Jimin thinks, it would be a much more efficient use of his power to lock the dome to a certain size and have it move with him. He’s never thought about it in that way. “Why does it matter, anyway? This isn’t exactly traini—”
Hoseok holds up a hand. “Hang on a second. Let me get to the end of my thought. I swear it’ll be worth it.”
Jimin stifles his irritation, but he bites his tongue anyway.
“Can you get from here to the gym in your dome? And then tell me how you did it?”
For a second, Jimin doesn’t move. It doesn’t register that Hoseok is asking him to do something. “What… Right now?”
“Yeah. Humour me.”
Jimin would very much like to ask why he’s being told to do this, but he feels like it would break whatever line of thought Hoseok is absorbed in right now. So he does it—humours him. In the blink of an eye, Jimin is in the gym, and in the next, he’s back. He barely has to think about it. Moving in his dome is easy.
The light burns his eyes afterwards, but the use of his power was so minimal that it doesn’t hurt much. The ache is like leaving a dark room to go outside on a sunny day.
“I’ll never get used to that,” Hoseok says, staring right into his eyes.
Jimin looks away.
“So? How did you do it?”
“I created a dome that spans across this room, the hallway and the gym. Since I can move freely in it, I just went and came back. Though you’d never know I did.”
“And you went through the door?”
Jimin shrugs. He knows he did, but it’s not something he thought about. That’s why the effect of Hoseok’s ice surprised him. It’s why the scientists at the facility scratched their heads over the way the fire burned him.
“It’s just interesting. If you didn’t open the door, that means it probably turned into shadows too.”
“I guess that’s what happened.”
“So why didn’t it hurt you when it became solid again?”
This. This is why Jimin hates thinking about it. No one could ever make sense of how his powers worked, not the scientists who experimented on him and not himself. It’s a waste of time.
“It just didn’t. So what?”
“Do you actively decide what changes and what doesn’t? Does that mean your powers are materials based? I’m just thinking out loud here. You absorb light, and it hurts you. But you absorb the materials of the door and… nothing. Haven’t you ever wondered why?”
“Do you think about how your power works when you use it?” Jimin asks, rambling on before Hoseok can answer. “Sometimes it just works on instinct. There’s no sense in trying to figure out these things because it won’t change anything. It’s still going to hurt me. I’ve accepted that. Now can we train?”
Things are feeling heated in here. Jimin’s entire body is tense, the words he said echoing in his mind over and over, getting louder the longer Hoseok doesn’t speak. And—god—why does it even matter? Why is he so worked up over this? Hoseok is just curious. He just wants to help.
Yet Jimin’s flight response is kicking in. There’s an icky feeling crawling under his skin. A thin layer of sweat coats his forehead and the back of his neck.
“Sorry,” Hoseok says. He sounds muted. “I didn’t mean to make you— I’m sorry. You’re right. Let’s train.”
The icky feeling grows when Hoseok gives in. It’s what Jimin wanted though… right?
Right.
They decide, rather than the game of tag they played last time, to change up the rules a little bit. Jimin will try to get to the gym; Hoseok will try to stop him.
“But it might be dangerous,” Hoseok says. “I’ll have to use blocks of ice and I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I’ll avoid them,” Jimin tells him.
He’s not going to show that side of him again. He’s done with weaknesses. He’s done with sensitivity. He just wants to be normal. Suddenly it’s all he wants.
His power has robbed him of a normal life.
“Ready?” Hoseok says.
Jimin nods.
“Then let’s start.”
Even before Jimin has turned the world dark, Hoseok has already begun to create a maze of ice. It’s insanely impressive, how fast he does it. If Jimin’s reaction time were slower, he would have smashed face first into a block of it and needed rescuing like last time.
He has to slow down. There’s no time limit to this. He assesses the path in front of him. There are twists and turns to the maze that leave him with only one path forward. It doesn’t only traverse over the ground either. It winds up in the air, left and right and up and down and twisting this way and that. Whenever Jimin thinks he’s close to the door, the path changes, or he reaches a dead end.
The seconds are ticking by. There might not be a time limit, but he shouldn’t stay in the dome for too long. He used to just suffer through the pain of his power’s effects, but for the first time, he’s frustrated. What’s the point of it if it only hurts him?
Jimin concentrates. He should be able to feel the path to the door, even while it’s changing. Hoseok wouldn’t just trap him from all sides. That’s not the kind of game this is. Jimin just needs to sense the minute changes in the air. Because he can. The dome is his playground. He can do anything inside it.
There. The path. He moves through it slower than he would like, but fast enough that Hoseok’s changes can’t drag him further from his destination. He needs to not only predict how the path might change but influence it in some way too. He knows where the door is, and Hoseok can’t keep him from it forever.
It’s been twelve seconds in the dome when Jimin finally catches a ‘glimpse’—a straight path directly to the door, which Jimin can travel through faster than Hoseok can block it. He rushes forward, about to disappear through the door when Hoseok’s earlier words slice across his thoughts.
So why didn’t it hurt you when it became solid again?
At the last second, Jimin halts. His dome abruptly disappears and he slams against the door, dropping to his knees. For a little while, he just sits there, stunned, as light bleeds from his pores. His heart is a beating mess against his ribcage.
Why, in that final split second, did he think the door was solid?
If he had tried to pass through it… he’s certain he would have absorbed every bit of it. It’s… It’s instinct.
“Are you okay?” Hoseok asks a few paces behind him, all hushed like he’s afraid he’ll frighten him.
Jimin lets out a shuddering breath. “I- I don’t know.”
“What happened? Did— Did I get you with my ice?”
“No.” Jimin reaches out to touch the door with a glowing hand. So much like the way Taehyung glows; he once thought they must be soulmates.
Hoseok plops down beside him. He’s quiet about it, not touching or prodding, just sitting close enough that Jimin can see him, like he’s letting him know he’s there.
“I just…” Jimin’s words trail off when he realises what he was about to say.
I just got scared.
Hoseok reaches out to touch the door too, then drops his hand and looks over. “Your powers are really impressive,” he says. Jimin just listens. It’s all he can do right now. “And they make me work harder. I think I might be the one getting an upgrade from all this training with you instead of the other way around.”
But then, it’s not like Jimin is trying very hard to improve.
How can he, when he doesn’t understand his own powers?
“Hoseok, I…” Jimin looks over at Hoseok, who’s expression somehow remains a mix of openness and soft understanding at the same time. It’s the reason Jimin feels brave enough to go on. “I’m always scared my powers will hurt me.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Has Jimin ever, in his entire life, admitted out loud that he was scared? Maybe when he was screaming and begging for his life… But under conditions like this? Where the simple admission requires a certain level of vulnerability?
‘Never’ is probably the right answer.
Hoseok shifts so his back rests against the door. He doesn’t look at Jimin directly, just stares at the open space of the arena—or maybe stares at nothing. “I think I understand,” he says after a moment of silence. “Something people don’t talk a lot about is how scary having powers actually is. Because each power is different, there’s not an existing blueprint to follow either. It’s terrifying.”
Jimin remembers the day he first tapped into his powers. He was with his dad. They were on the road in this old beat up car his dad bought from someone in Hadong. Jimin was all of four years old, but he remembers drowning in the front seat, unable to see over the dashboard. He had a stuffed toy in his lap, and he enjoyed making up stories with it, so that’s how he passed the time.
Soft music was playing through the radio, and his dad hummed the melodies under his breath from time to time. Jimin didn’t look up much, used to the hours-long car rides and too distracted by his imagination anyway. Eventually, he would doze off, but they had only been on the road for an hour and it was barely noontime so he was wide awake.
He was giggling to himself, lifting the arms of the stuffed toy in the semblance of a hug, when something stirred in his belly and suddenly it went dark. Fear crept in then, because he couldn’t move, and he couldn’t scream, and he felt as if the world had ended. Silence weighed down on him, his father’s comforting figure gone as if never there.
It came rushing back a second later, but the noises around him weren’t right. There was the screech of tires on the road, his father’s shout of terror, and honking from other cars. The car was moving too fast, the world that Jimin could see outside the windows spinning around him, but even that was nothing compared to the burn.
His stuffed toy had fallen from his fists and now all he could see was bright golden light leaking out of every crevice of skin. It hurt, like he was being doused in fire, except it was coming from him. He didn’t have the words to understand what was happening, could barely process when the car slammed to a stop and when the noises died away.
“Oh, Jimin, oh god, I’m sorry,” his dad was saying, sounding on the verge of tears. “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”
They managed to scrape by without a traffic accident, but they left a lot of drivers on the road angry. Dad drove them while Jimin sobbed in the passenger seat, his young heart terrified because somehow he knew, instinctively, that he had done something. Even after the burn faded and his skin went back to normal, he could feel the stir of something new inside him.
That night, his dad told him he was a Super. Jimin could only think of the Supers he had glimpsed on the cover of magazines or seen on TV. He thought he wasn’t like any of them at all, especially when his dad looked at him with pity more than awe.
“Have you ever been scared of your powers?” Jimin asks.
“Oh yeah.” Hoseok chuckles, pointing at the space behind Jimin. Jimin turns around so he’s sitting beside Hoseok, his back to the door too. The air in front of them shimmers with heat. “I couldn’t control it well at all when I was young. Something like this would spread…”
The heat spreads as he talks, demonstrating what he’s saying. It never touches them though.
“It would heat up anything in the area, making them hot to touch, but worse than that, it would burn people if they got caught in it, leaving them with really nasty sunburns, or worse. It made things catch on fire sometimes, sporadically. I wouldn’t even do anything and it would just…”
Hoseok waves his hand, and one of the metal weights on a rack glows red, redder, until it looks like the metal might melt completely. As quickly as it happened though, it disappears. The air returns to its natural state a second later.
“I moved into a dorm when I was enrolled in a hero course, but I had to wear a power canceller when I slept so I didn’t hurt the other kids. I wasn’t the only one. A lot of the kids I knew had similar issues. Sometimes people would still get hurt if we weren’t careful,” Hoseok tells him.
The facility was similar, with one stark difference…
“I think the scientists hoped we’d hurt each other,” Jimin says. “They wanted to see every part of our abilities, good or bad. They’d push some kids so hard, they stopped breathing.”
“Oh my god…”
Jimin hadn’t meant to say any of that out loud. It’s just that Hoseok’s experiences sounded so familiar, he couldn’t help it. He swallows the lump in his throat. He’s not there anymore. It’s been years since they hurt him.
“Hero courses were there to help us learn about our powers and control them.” Hoseok reaches out gently, squeezing Jimin’s knee before retracting his hand. “I’m sorry you weren’t offered the same opportunity. It must have been scary.”
“Yeah,” is all Jimin manages as a response. His knee tingles. He stares at the hand that touched him, finding that he liked it when Hoseok did that.
He’s seen the way Hoseok treats the others. Touch seems to be his way of offering comfort, or love. A hug from behind. A touch to the waist. A kiss on the cheek. Jimin stifles his desire for those things. It wouldn’t be right to ask for them, regardless. There’s no point in imagining it.
But there is something he’s curious about.
“Just now, when I was about to go through the door, I could feel that it was different. If I’d tried, it would have been like it was with your ice… and I don’t know if I would’ve survived it.”
“Did you do something different?” Hoseok asks.
“Maybe… I guess I couldn’t get what you said out of my mind.”
“Sorry about that.”
Jimin shakes his head. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Maybe I really don’t know anything about my powers. But learning more about them… I mean, training to… It reminds me of back then, and it’s just…”
“It’s scary?” Hoseok tries.
“What if I don’t learn anything?” Jimin asks, fists clenched in his lap. “What if I do and it’s… bad? What if I can’t ever control them the way all of you can? Sometimes I think that… that I wasn’t meant to have powers.”
“What would you do if you didn’t have them?”
The question makes Jimin think back to a conversation he had with Hoseok before. Hoseok had told him how much he loved dancing. It had been a nice thing to bond over, and Jimin feels warm just from the memory of it.
“I don’t know,” Jimin ends up saying. “But I know my dad would still be alive. We could’ve had a normal life.”
Hoseok is looking at him, and precisely because of that, Jimin keeps his gaze on the floor. It hurts to talk about his father.
“You know it wasn’t your fault,” Hoseok says.
Jimin’s voice sounds small even to himself when he answers, “I don’t know.”
He doesn’t believe the words. How could he? His mother only ever wanted her hands on his powers. His dad never said it out loud, but it had always been clear he resented that Jimin was a Super. Maybe because Dad wasn’t one. But Jimin will never know; it’s a conversation they never had.
“Aish.” Hoseok’s voice wavers, but before Jimin can catch a glimpse of his face, he’s being enveloped into a pair of arms. The air seems to sizzle with warmth. Jimin wonders if that’s Hoseok’s powers at work, or just the way being hugged makes him feel.
“I’m going to help you,” Hoseok says, hand in his hair, lips by his ear. “You’re never going to be alone again, and I’m going to help you so you never have to be scared. Of anything. Okay?”
A shaky breath leaves Jimin’s lips. The promise sounds like an impossible dream. But hasn’t that been how he’s felt about all of it? That this can’t be his reality, because a villain doesn’t deserve nice things.
But villains are selfish.
Jimin is selfish.
And Hoseok has put into words his every hope and dream.
So how can he not reply in kind?
Jimin squeezes Hoseok tightly like he’s desperately trying not to float away. “Okay.”
🔥
There’s a world outside of Bangtan’s hideout, but Jimin is content to remain within. Ever since he ran and returned, he’s drawn comfort from hiding within these four walls. Maybe it’s because he’s never truly alone, and though it’s a private thought he’ll never say out loud, he’s incredibly relieved by it.
He’s forced to confront the thought for the first time when he goes an entire day without seeing Jungkook. And though there’s always someone there, it’s odd not to see the youngest member of their troupe, even if just in passing.
So he asks Hoseok, who has one more free day before he has to go back to hero duty, “Where’s Jungkook?”
Hoseok is in the middle of spooning out a scoop of peanut butter to eat like a lollipop, but he pauses to glance at Jimin, who stands in the kitchen doorway. It’s a normal inquiry, right? It’s not weird to ask after one of them? It doesn’t mean he cares, just that he’s curious…
… right?
“His parents are in town, so he’s staying with them for a few days,” Hoseok tells him. “They come up to Seoul once in a while because Jungkook refuses to visit them. Still has that teenage rebellious spirit… but he can’t say no when they actually come, so he’ll be gone for a few days.”
“Oh, okay.” Jimin drops his hands into his pockets. Surely he’s not actually disappointed? It’s not like Jungkook owed him a goodbye. He’ll be back soon anyway. There must be something wrong with him.
Of course Jungkook has a life away from here. They all do. Tomorrow, Hoseok will be gone for a few days. Taehyung will return from hero duty in two. Seokjin will likely be in the city somewhere, dealing with unruly gang members. Namjoon has been busy with repairs to his club. Yoongi disappears even when he’s home, hidden in his room to work on music.
If not for Jimin, maybe they wouldn’t try so hard to make sure at least one person is home at a time, to watch over him. A bitterness rushes through him, and he turns to leave the kitchen.
Yeah.
There’s something wrong with him.
“Do you want some?” Hoseok asks before Jimin can step out through the door. The hero holds up the tub of peanut butter. There’s a spoon with the stuff in his other hand. Jimin finds he’s bewildered by the question. But he’s no longer on his way to exit the kitchen anymore.
“Do you…” Jimin doesn’t even know how to phrase the question. “... just eat it like that?”
“Don’t tell me you’ve never…” Hoseok shakes his head at Jimin’s blank look, immediately going to grab another spoon. “I need to step up my game. Come on, you have to try it at least once. Do you like peanut butter?”
Jimin shrugs. “Never had it without toast.”
“A thing we must change,” Hoseok says, setting his own spoon down so he can scoop some out for Jimin. He hands the spoon over.
Jimin stares at it for a second, then figures he has nothing to lose. He didn’t really want to go back to his room. What would he have done? Scrolled through cat videos on his phone? Read some records? Lately, he hasn’t felt like doing the latter at all.
A strange thing, that.
“Try it,” Hoseok urges.
Jimin tentatively puts the spoon in his mouth, taking the whole thing. It coats his tongue and gums, and he finds he can’t swallow fast enough. It’s everywhere—the taste. Hoseok wears this wide, amused smile that makes his eyes sparkle.
“You took it all at once,” Hoseok says, then giggles when Jimin opens his mouth to talk before closing it again because he can’t possibly be expected to talk when he’s still got peanut butter on his tongue and his teeth. “That’s one way to do it.”
Jimin watches as Hoseok does the same thing, cleaning his spoon in one fell swoop. Hoseok mm’s, exaggerating his tongue and mouth movements, and it’s so ridiculous and childish that Jimin can’t help it when his lips break out into a smile.
Hoseok covers his mouth with a hand. “I told you it was good!”
“It’s silly,” Jimin says, but that bitterness he felt before has completely disappeared.
So maybe more than silly, it’s nice. Nice to just laugh about silly things.
“What’s going on here?”
Jimin turns to see Yoongi entering the kitchen. Hoseok answers, “Jimin had never eaten peanut butter straight out of the tub. I was correcting that.”
Jimin only just catches the twitch of Yoongi’s lips before he’s hidden behind the fridge door. He digs around in there for a bit while saying, “Definitely a rite of passage you can’t miss.”
“A rite of passage to what?” Jimin asks.
Yoongi closes the fridge door part way to look at Jimin. “I don’t actually know… life?”
“I see,” Jimin says, though he doesn’t really see.
Hoseok pounds a fist into his palm. “You know what else is a rite of passage to life?”
Yoongi has started taking ingredients out of the fridge, setting them on the kitchen island. Things like carrots and cucumbers and pork. “What is?” he asks.
“Dancing.”
Yoongi hums in response.
“Don’t you think we should, love?” Hoseok says, walking around the island to sidle up to Yoongi, this gleam in his eye. “You, me, Jimin. Take on the dance floors of Seoul together? An unstoppable trio.”
“I don’t know about unstoppable.”
“Is that a yes?”
“It is not,” Yoongi says.
Hoseok’s pout comes into full view as Yoongi shuts the fridge door. “Why not? You’ve been cooped up in your studio all day. Everyone’s out. I go back to work tomorrow. It’s the perfect opportunity.”
Jimin pretends to be interested in his empty spoon, which he still holds onto. Meanwhile, Yoongi wears a frown as he grabs a cutting board and a knife.
“Is this one of those days you won’t take no for an answer?”
Hoseok slyly drags a hand down Yoongi’s back, leaning in close. “You know me so well.”
Yoongi’s expression remains impassive, but the very tips of his ears look red. He glances at Jimin. “And you? Do you wanna go?”
Jimin considers it. Whether they go or not, he’s pretty sure this is the company he’s stuck with tonight. And anyway, he hasn’t left the apartment since he came back. Could he? Should he? There’s no reason for this decision to be so difficult, and yet, it seems, so many of them these days are.
He’s not used to thinking outside of himself. Making decisions that affect others where he can see is just… a foreign concept. But ever since he first stepped foot in this apartment, a space in his brain has opened up that wasn’t there before. Now he has to consider things. Now he has to navigate the feelings of others. It’s so incredibly exhausting, yet he’s completely incapable of speaking his mind.
He wants, but he doesn’t want to ask.
He desires, but he refuses to say it.
And so he remains trapped by this new open space in his brain, where everything he wants remains buried behind filters and half-assed responses that don’t do his desires justice, not one bit, not at all.
“If Hoseok won’t take no for an answer…” Jimin starts, trailing off when Hoseok beams.
“So that’s a yes?”
“Sure,” Jimin says noncommittally.
Jimin half expects Hoseok to approach him like he did Yoongi. It’s that part of his brain, the one that desires and pulls back at the same time—completely warping his sense of reality. He bites the inside of his mouth in chagrin when Hoseok remains glued to Yoongi’s side.
There is definitely something wrong with him.
“Then it’s decided,” Hoseok says. He drops a kiss on Yoongi’s cheek. “After dinner, the three of us will go out and dance the night away.”
Jimin turns to the sink to wash his spoon as Yoongi grumbles something that somehow still sounds like agreement. It’s decided then. They’ll go out and dance the night away. He wishes he could stop his heart from pounding so hard. As he goes to leave, he meets Yoongi’s eyes, remembering at the last second that Yoongi can probably tell exactly what he’s feeling.
Jimin can’t get out of the kitchen fast enough.
🔥
The place Hoseok chooses is a few doors down from Namjoon’s club, Moonchild. They don’t stop by to see Namjoon though, who according to Yoongi isn’t there anyway because he’s out running an errand for Seokjin. Jimin wonders if they have a group chat, and what it would take to be a part of it.
A silly thought that he shoves away immediately.
“This place is nice because they have strict security, so no paparazzi can get through to spy on heroes on their days off,” Hoseok explains as he takes them to the front of the queue outside. “Plus, I know a bunch of the people who work here, so we don’t have to wait to get in.”
He approaches the bouncer, greeting her with a cheery smile. Jimin shares a look with Yoongi, taking a quick moment to admire Yoongi’s choice of outfit tonight. He’s dressed in all black, his tight jeans ripped at the knees and black t-shirt tucked in. A belt loops around his waist, and black boots complete the look. He must have blow dried his hair too for it to fall like that, his fringe covering his forehead and part of his eyes.
Hoseok, on the other hand, is colourful from head to toe. His shirt and pants must come as a set because the patterns match each other, and while it might come off as tacky on others, Hoseok pulls off the look like he was born to be on a runway. He dominates the stares around him, regardless, some people on the street obviously recognising him as he walks past.
Jimin hangs back because of that, glad he went for simple over flashy tonight. He’s wearing sneakers and tight blue jeans, his form fitting t-shirt tucked in. A bucket hat hides part of his face from view. He figures he can take it off when they’re inside. He’s not comfortable with people seeing him with Hoseok where they might snap a photo. If Hoseok is telling the truth about this club’s reputation, he should be safe once they’re inside.
“In we go,” Hoseok says to Jimin and Yoongi before skipping on in. Jimin follows, eyes downcast.
Maybe he should have come as Mini.
“First things first,” Hoseok says, heading through the crowd, “drinks.”
Jimin will admit—that’s an excellent idea. He trots along, behind Hoseok but in front of Yoongi, glad to be sandwiched in an unfamiliar place. Once, as the crowd they pass through thickens, he thinks he feels a hand touch the base of his spine, but the feeling disappears just as quickly.
They reach the bar, and when Jimin looks over at Yoongi, the other gives no indication that he reached for him. Jimin stifles the question he wants to ask. What would he say, anyway? Were you looking out for me?
He hates that he would want Yoongi’s answer to be yes.
“I’m going to get us something sweet,” Hoseok says, taking charge right away to order them a juicy concoction. Once they have drinks in their hands, they find an empty table a little away from the crowd. Hoseok is already swaying to the beat of the music, even before he’s taken a sip of his drink.
Yoongi leans towards Jimin, asking, “How are you doing?”
Jimin’s feeling awkward but he’s not about to admit that. “I’m fine!” he shouts back so he can be heard. Hesitates, then asks, “You?”
“Fine, though this is more Hobi’s scene than my own!”
“What is your scene?”
“A book in my hands, somewhere I can put my feet up, no one around me!”
Hoseok rolls his eyes at that. “Hey, hey, are you saying you’re not enjoying yourself right now?”
Yoongi smiles. “Never said that.”
“Good! Now drink up. You both need to loosen up.”
Jimin could not agree more. They only chat a little bit while they finish their drinks. Jimin finds his eyes roaming across the club, taking in the flashing lights, the DJ on a stage, the smoke that sometimes dusts over the crowd, turning them into faceless bodies. If Jimin looked closely, he’s sure he would recognise some faces—heroes he’s seen on the news.
But as it is, he doesn’t want to recognise them. He doesn’t want to think about the scuffles he’s had with some, or the fact that half of them think of the Phantom Arsonist as their enemy. He wants to leave that part of himself outside this club, just for one night.
He slams back the rest of his drink, then says to Hoseok, “I thought we were here to dance?”
Hoseok grins, proceeding to finish his own. “Let’s do it.”
Yoongi hangs back. “I need another if I’m going to join…” He waves at the general vicinity of dancers. “... that.”
He slips back to the bar while Hoseok leads Jimin to the dance floor. There is something so nerve wracking about this, even though it’s not his first time in a club like this on a dance floor like this, surrounded by people who couldn’t care less about him.
Perhaps it’s because he knows Hoseok cares.
Maybe that’s why he’s so flustered and off his game.
“Let’s see those bedroom dancing skills!” Hoseok says. There’s a lightness to his request that takes the pressure off the situation. In the end, they’re only here to have a good time. Jimin tries to remember that.
They stay out there for three songs. Jimin tries his best not to look Hoseok in the eyes, because every time he does, Hoseok smiles, and maybe it’s the drink, but Jimin could grow addicted to a smile like that. It feels wrong and right at the same time. There’s something warring inside him.
He probably needs more to drink.
“Not bad,” Hoseok says about his dancing as they leave to go find Yoongi. He reaches out, brushing Jimin’s side, and leans closer to say, “But you could use your hips a little more.”
Yoongi has two fresh drinks for them when they find him. He seems happy to see them, and he’s certainly more relaxed now, a calmness to his stance, like all it took was a bit of time to become used to this place. Jimin reaches for his drink, thanking Yoongi for it.
Should he buy them a round too?
“Next time, you’re joining us,” Hoseok says to Yoongi.
“Yeah, yeah.” Yoongi waves his hand. He glances at Jimin. “So? Are you enjoying yourself?”
“I guess.”
“Hard to have a proper conversation in here,” Yoongi notes, which is true. The room practically shakes with the sound of the bass pounding out of the speakers. “But at least the music is good!”
It is good. Even though their stint on the dance floor was short, Jimin enjoyed the way the music seeped into his bones, revelled in being just another face on the dance floor, basked in the attention Hoseok gave him. Already, he’s aching to go out again.
He likes being in amongst the crowd, to have people pressing in from all sides, messy but uncaring of a single thing happening around them. Life’s worries can disappear for a little while.
He spends enough time looking around him that when he turns back to his companions, he’s surprised to see how close they are to one another—physically. Hoseok has this way of leaning into a person, using his entire body to show his interest. And though Yoongi isn’t always as expressive, there’s a softness to his expression now, a willingness to reach back out to the person beside him.
Jimin lets himself look this time. Back in the apartment, he usually turned away, or grew red and embarrassed, preferring to occupy himself with something else because it was easier than acknowledging the real feelings those boys obviously have for one another.
But with the energy rising in the club and the alcohol swimming in his veins, it’s easy right now to admire it.
Hoseok and Yoongi look good together. They’re so different, and yet their affection is obvious. It’s apparent in the gumminess of Yoongi’s smile and Hoseok’s lingering hand on Yoongi’s waist. It sparks in the way their gazes meet, the heat in them radiating out towards where Jimin’s standing. It’s in the way they move around each other, so smoothly it’s almost as if it’s practised.
Yoongi catches him looking. Jimin doesn’t even know how long he’s been watching, but he’s sucking on air through his straw, and there’s sweat gathering around his pits. He considers pressing his cold glass to his cheek to cool himself down.
“You ready to get back out there?” Yoongi asks.
Jimin raises his empty glass like that’s a good enough answer.
They put him in a sandwich again as they make their way out. Hoseok is in the lead, but he reaches back with a hand this time, wordlessly telling Jimin that it’s okay. So Jimin grabs it, then looks back, pausing, thinking, waiting. Yoongi does a kind thing for him, offering his hand too.
“I’m right behind you,” he says.
Jimin hates to ask, so he’s grateful. He wants, he wants, he wants.
They let go once they’ve carved a space for themselves on the dance floor. For the most part they dance in a circle facing each other, jumping up and down, moving their heads and their hips, getting lost in the music. Jimin smiles too when he lets himself look at them, when their eyes meet and it feels like sparks are flying.
At some point, Hoseok grabs Jimin’s hands, leading him into a spin that has Jimin giddy. And then he pulls him close, hands going to his waist. Jimin’s breath catches as Hoseok moves him to a rhythm of his choosing. Jimin can’t do anything except follow, even as his heart soars, making everything feel floaty.
Hoseok nearly touches his cheek with his own as he brings his lips to Jimin’s ear. “You doing okay?”
Jimin thinks the answer is no. He’s not okay, because his stomach is doing somersaults and he doesn’t understand how they got here. He nods anyway, because he might not be okay, but he doesn’t want this to stop.
Hoseok reaches past him then, and suddenly there are another pair of hands on his waist, a body pressing in from behind. Jimin feels dizzy, like reality is slipping away and the only thing that matters is the sensation of their touches, Yoongi’s breath on his neck, Hoseok’s hips flushed with his.
Jimin doesn’t know where to put his hands, but Hoseok saves him from his misery, guiding them to his own hips. In all the times Jimin has gone out for a distraction in the past, he has never felt like this with a stranger. He has never felt quite so full, yet so overwhelmed by the urge for more too.
He feels Yoongi inch closer, almost leaning on him, his chin propped over his shoulder. Hoseok lifts a hand, running it through Yoongi’s hair. Their movements slow down, or maybe it’s just Jimin’s perception. Between their bodies, he feels held in place, like nothing will ever uproot him again. All he needs to do is remain here.
They’ll take care of the rest.
When they kiss, he’s not prepared, but he doesn’t shy from it either. They’re caught up in something too, letting the music guide their bodies. Jimin shuts his eyes, not because he doesn’t want to see, but just so he can feel it. Tugs Hoseok close and tucks his nose in his neck, breathing in his woody scent. The world sways around him, but there’s zero chance of him ever falling.
It’s safe here. Safe and warm.
When he puckers his lips, it’s not because he’s feeling brave in the face of their boldness. He’s just not overthinking anymore. Their intentions are clear, and they have been for a while. So Jimin leaves a quick peck on Hoseok’s neck, and the next thing he knows, a hand is cupping his cheek, lifting his face firmly.
Hoseok’s eyes are lidded, his lips kiss swollen and oh, so inviting. Jimin finds himself staring at them, caught up in the heaviness of their breaths and the desires rushing through him. It doesn’t help, not at all, when Yoongi’s hands dip lower down his body, over his hips and down to his thighs, teasing, taunting.
Jimin wants, he wants, he wants.
Hoseok’s other hand comes up to his other cheek, a question in his eyes. But Jimin doesn’t want to ask. He hates to ask. He doesn’t deserve to ask. Jimin licks his lips, his heart pounding in time with the music.
“Hobi…” he whispers.
Hoseok’s hands brush back into Jimin’s hair, his lips following soon after, but Jimin doesn’t get what he wants. Those lips find purchase on Jimin’s cheek, a light little peck that makes Jimin crazy. And then it’s a kiss to his jaw, his other cheek. And Jimin can’t help turning his head to kiss Hoseok himself, a quick one just to try it.
And then again to prove it’s real.
A third time because he wants it, and who is going to stop him anyway? When it’s clear they want it too?
Hoseok kisses Jimin gently like he doesn’t want to ruin him.
Jimin kisses Hoseok like he’s starving.
It doesn’t last long, because Hoseok smiles which breaks the kiss, but Jimin steals one more, kisses that smile that he thinks he has loved since the first time he saw it.
Hoseok drags Jimin into a hug, arms over his shoulders and hands in his hair. Jimin isn’t afraid to hold him tight right now. He doesn’t fully understand the feeling coursing through him, but he knows he wants to hold onto it. Selfishly, desperately.
It won’t stay this way.
Tomorrow will take it away.
“We should go find Yoongi,” Hoseok says a few minutes later, shattering the zone of safety and warmth Jimin had finally acknowledged.
When did Yoongi leave?
The empty space behind him is suddenly painfully apparent.
Jimin pulls back, because they should find Yoongi; Hoseok is right. Maybe they got carried away. A pit sits in Jimin’s stomach as they leave the dance floor together, hand in hand less like he’s someone Hoseok cares about, and more like he’s a weight dragging Hoseok down.
“Um, Hoseok?” Jimin calls. They’re quickly approaching the bar. He tugs on Hoseok’s hand, finally getting his attention. Hoseok looks back with wide eyes. “I’m going to use the restroom!”
Hoseok’s response is immediate. “I can come with you!”
“I’ll be fine! I’ll find you when I’m done!”
Jimin shoves a hand through his hair as he dodges people on the way to the bathroom. He just— He needs a moment. What they did is crashing down on him, and he’s questioning what came over him. It was the moment, the music, the lights. He wouldn’t have otherwise.
He wants, but he shouldn’t.
He can’t.
He jerks backwards when a shoulder rams into him. It’s not purposeful, but it makes Jimin feel invisible. He lets out a sharp breath, shaking himself. The bathroom is in sight. He can have a moment to himself in just a few seconds.
His hand comes in contact with the door just as it swings open. Jimin sneaks past the body coming out, but suddenly a hand is grabbing him by the shoulder, a voice calling out to him. It takes Jimin a second to actually look at the person’s face, to recognise that it’s Yoongi.
“Sorry,” Jimin says. “I just have to…”
“You’re panicking,” Yoongi states.
Jimin shakes off his hand, stepping further into the bathroom. Yoongi follows, because of course he would.
A weight, Jimin thinks. Dragging Yoongi down.
“I’m fine. I’ll just be a minute.”
Yoongi doesn’t listen, but why would he? He has a task—to make sure Jimin doesn’t run away again. That’s all any of this is. Day in and day out, the company they’ve granted him, it’s all been for one thing.
Jimin doesn’t get why they bother.
He’s always been fine on his own.
“I’ll wait for you out here,” Yoongi says when Jimin enters a stall.
Jimin wants to tell him not to, but he can’t find the words anymore. So he shuts the stall door, drops the top seat of the toilet, and sits down, burying his face in his hands. There’s so much noise here, voices and music and thoughts. He would like it all to stop for a second, just stop.
His vision goes dark. He would open his eyes but he’s turned into shadows. Noise doesn’t usually disappear in his dome, but right now it’s silent. Completely and utterly silent. Jimin hovers where he is, fixed in place, trying to find some sense of calm.
But his thoughts won’t stop and the darkness is so, so lonely.
He lets go of his dome, letting the absorbed light pool in his eyes and nearly blind him. It stings. What’s wrong with him? He doesn’t remember why he’s here, what the point of it all was. He’s better off on his own.
A knock sounds on the stall door. “Hey,” Yoongi calls. “Are you okay?”
There aren’t any other voices in the bathroom anymore. Whoever else was in here before must have cleared out. It’s just him and Yoongi. Jimin grips the sides of the toilet, unsure how to answer a question like that.
“I… can feel you, Jimin,” Yoongi says.
Jimin drops his head onto his knees, shutting his eyes.
“I want to help. I can help you.”
Jimin shakes his head, even though Yoongi can’t see him.
“Look here.” Yoongi’s voice sounds different, a little closer. Jimin opens his eyes a little to see a hand reaching out to him from under the door. “I’m not going to do anything to you, but I can feel you, and I… I just want you to know I’m here with you.”
It seems so easy. Jimin’s fingers twitch.
He wants.
Yoongi wiggles his fingers. “I want you to, so don’t be afraid.”
It’s not fair that Yoongi knows, that he can feel all of it—the panic, the loneliness, the fear. But then Jimin thinks—he knows. And that means he already knows that Jimin wants, and yet he’s still here. He knows how Jimin feels, and he’s here.
Jimin doesn’t have to ask.
Yoongi already feels it.
Instead of grabbing his hand, Jimin opens the door. Yoongi is knelt on the ground, but he looks up now, retracting his hand, before getting to his feet. Jimin opens his mouth, wanting to explain, but he has no idea where to even start.
“I don’t know why…” he ends up saying.
“It’s okay.”
“I just…”
“It’s okay,” Yoongi says again, before going to hug him.
Jimin sags into it in guilt and desire and relief. It’s not like his emotions disappear. Yoongi doesn’t use his powers, just like he said he wouldn’t, but sometime later, Jimin just feels… lighter. Like everything he felt is hovering in the air instead of dragging him down. He can bear it like this.
The bathroom door opens then and they break apart, but it’s just Hoseok, his face a mask of worry.
“There you are,” he says.
“Sorry,” Jimin tells him, then closes the distance between them to hug him too. Hoseok returns it instantly, enveloping him completely, one hand on his back, the other sneaking into his hair.
“What are you sorry for?”
“Just…” He doesn’t answer for a long moment.
Hoseok strokes his hair gently. “Everything okay?”
Jimin thinks of Yoongi, behind him, who knows everything he feels and refused to leave, then thinks of Hoseok, who doesn’t, but came looking for him anyway. Surrounded by that, there really is no other response he can give.
“I’m okay.”
Notes:
as always, i'd love to hear your thoughts <333
Chapter 11
Notes:
it's been a while since i updated and honestly it had been a while since i'd been able to write a single word for this story, but there must've been some kind of magic in the air over the weekend because i managed to knock out almost 8k words in two days. and here we are :)
CW: a teeny bit of gender exploration but it’s only part-conscious and during a moment when jimin is having a hard time dealing with his emotions; basically he finds comfort in his alter ego, mini. i might explore this more in later chapters! it’s just a small glimpse of it here.
(added a cw here because it’s not currently in the tags)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Nights are when Jimin spends the most time thinking. Sometimes, it’s about his past. He sees the memories in his mind’s eye like a movie happening to someone else, careful not to dig too deep lest he get overwhelmed. Sometimes, it’s about his desire for revenge, visualising it, mapping out the steps he still needs to take to achieve it. But more often than not, he thinks about them.
The six boys who live upstairs.
Usually, mostly, often, they cross his mind—and he imagines. He imagines claiming that spare room as his own, imagines settling down, imagines sharing kisses with them, imagines sharing more.
His belly will do a little flip at the thought of more. What would it be like if it was easy? If he wasn’t weighed down by a past he had no control over? If he could just let it go and be free of it, once and for all? He knows they would let him. They would support him. They would remain by his side.
He knows it, even if deep down it’s still so hard to believe.
While his nights are filled with these thoughts, his days differ starkly. The truth is, he’s not that close with them. It doesn’t matter that he’s shared a few vulnerable moments with some of them. The love they hold for one another stops a foot short of Jimin’s person. He’s an outsider, and he’s reminded of it each time the sun comes up in the morning.
Today, it’s in the form of Taehyung and Namjoon lounging in the living room, speaking in hushed voices. They don’t notice Jimin walking by, their backs to him as he slips past quietly to head to the kitchen. He’s grateful he wore socks.
“… try harder than anyone else I know. You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself,” Namjoon is saying. He’s got an arm around Taehyung, who leans heavily on him, all curled up and comfy.
“It never feels like enough,” Taehyung responds. His voice trails off as Jimin enters the empty kitchen, trying to stay quiet as he rummages around for some breakfast. His ears strain to hear more, but their voices are too soft.
Hearing Taehyung sound like that is just a reminder that Jimin isn’t close to him like he used to be. Even their short lived friendship of the past had them huddled close, sharing anything and everything on their minds. Jimin once told Taehyung how much he wished he didn’t have to move so much. He lamented how much he wanted to stay in one place and make friends.
Confessed that he’d be the happiest person in the world if Taehyung remained his friend forever.
It feels like a lifetime ago. Jimin was a different person, and Taehyung was too. Yet Jimin can’t ignore the tug he feels now, wishing they were closer. No amount of video games has brought them to a place even close to what’s going on out there between Taehyung and Namjoon.
Which is how Jimin bitterly reminds himself that those stupid thoughts that plague him in the night are nothing more than unachievable fantasies. It doesn’t match what’s happening right in front of him. He needs to get it through his head that nothing will ever come of any of this. He could never fit in amongst them; can’t even fathom a world where he’d ever be comfortable sharing his fears.
Jimin’s halfway done eating when the duo’s conversation becomes audible again. But instead of the hushed sad and encouraging tones, they’re more cheerful. Taehyung seems to be teasing Namjoon about something, but it’s lost entirely on Jimin. They both cut off when they see him in there, making him wish he’d brought the food to his room.
“You’re awake,” Taehyung says excitedly, sidling up to the seat beside him. He slips into it, leaning far too much into Jimin’s space. “What’re you eating? Cereal? Can I have a bite? I’m starving.”
It’s an odd request, but Jimin sees no reason to refuse, so he holds out his spoon. Realises only after Taehyung has snatched a bite that the hero’s saliva is now all over it.
“Yum. How are you? Did you sleep well?”
“I’m fine,” Jimin says, even though internally he’s struggling. Because all he can see in his mind’s eye is Taehyung’s lips on the spoon. All he can think is that his tongue wrapped around it, and if Jimin eats from the spoon now, it’s almost like he’ll be kissing him.
Which is stupid. It’s stupid, because it’s not the same, but somehow he can’t get it out of his mind.
Namjoon saves him from taking that bite. “I heard you went out with Hobi and Yoongi the other night.”
“Oh, I heard about that too,” Taehyung says, eyebrows dancing teasingly.
Jimin puts his spoon down. “We went out dancing.”
“I heard dancing wasn’t all you did.”
“Tae,” Namjoon admonishes with a small smile and a shake of his head.
“Did you have a good time?” Taehyung goes on to ask as he grabs his own bowl of cereal.
“I did.” Jimin thinks about how they took care of him. They were there and he reached out and they— He shakes himself. It was a one time thing. Just because it happened then doesn’t mean it will happen again. He tamps down on the feeling trying to rise up inside him.
It has no place here.
“We should do something together,” Taehyung says chirpily. “I bought a new video game. It involves a lot of world exploration and Jungkook’s not here to play it so maybe you’d want to? With me?”
It’s not the first time Taehyung has asked Jimin to play games with him, and like before, Jimin sees no reason to refuse so he just says, “Sure.”
“Great! Let’s play after breakfast.”
There’s a forced eagerness to Taehyung’s words that aren’t lost on Jimin. What he can’t figure out is why it’s there. But then, maybe it’s because Taehyung feels like he has to spend time with him, considering the way his other boyfriends treat him. Maybe it’s just his way of keeping peace with them. Of making sure things don’t get weird.
But Jimin doesn’t like charades. Not if they’re just going to waste his time. Taehyung should just tell him if he’s not interested in hanging out. He doesn’t have to try so hard when there’s obviously nothing here. What they had together was a thing of the past. Let bygones be bygones, and all that.
Taehyung’s already seated and eating when Jimin says, “I actually wanted to get a workout in.”
Taehyung pauses mid-bite. “Right now? That’s okay. We can play after.”
“I have other things to do too.”
“Oh.” Taehyung’s eyes flicker to Namjoon, who’s pretending not to listen as he drinks a cup of coffee and looks at something on his phone. “We can play after that then.”
“I think you should just wait for Jungkook to come back and play it with him.”
Taehyung frowns, looking taken aback. “Okay… Okay, well, if you didn’t want to play it, you should’ve just said so at the start.”
“As if you actually want to play it with me,” Jimin says before he can stop himself.
“Um, I do. That’s why I asked you.”
“I can tell when someone’s forcing themselves to be nice. You don’t have to pretend around me.”
“What? I- I’m not pretending. I thought we were friends.”
“Are we?”
“Aren’t we?”
Jimin bites the inside of his cheek, suddenly uncertain, but if there’s any way he’s learned to deal with uncertainty, it’s to double down on it. “We used to be,” he says.
Taehyung’s cheeks, oddly, are spotted pink. And his lips are trembling and his eyes are large and he’s either furious or very, very sad. Jimin’s uncertainty flares even stronger, but instead of encouraging him to grab hold of some answers, he freezes before it. So he says nothing, nothing at all, as Taehyung turns around and walks out of there with his food.
Jimin stares at the kitchen doorway where Taehyung just left, stunned.
“That was a little harsh,” Namjoon says.
He forgot they had an audience. Regaining a little control of his actions, Jimin goes to wash his dishes in the sink. But he’s aware of Namjoon’s watchful, judgmental eyes on him the whole time. After he’s propped his bowl on the drying rack, Namjoon speaks again.
“Do you actually think Tae is being insincere about wanting to spend time with you?” Namjoon asks.
“Why wouldn’t he be?” Jimin shoots back.
“Tae doesn’t really do insincere,” Namjoon tells him patiently.
Jimin scowls, deciding to grab a towel and dry his bowl because it means he doesn’t have to look at the expression on Namjoon’s face. But he can imagine it. Knows it probably pities him for his lack of tact. Upsetting people seems all he’s capable of, sometimes.
“Well you don’t know him very well then,” Jimin says.
Namjoon just chuckles, like he can sense Jimin’s insecurity, like he knows exactly what’s on his mind—how much he’s run by the fear that it’s true, that deep down they hate him and want him gone. That this is just a temporary haven and it’s only a matter of time before it disappears.
It’s scary—he’s scared. He just wants… But he’s not allowed, is he? None of this is his. He’s just borrowing, and one day he’ll have to give it all back.
“I’m going to politely disagree with that statement,” Namjoon says.
But of course. Jimin knows that his statement was false anyway. Namjoon knows Taehyung. He understands him. They all understand each other, because it’s easy for them. It’s just, like, it comes to them at the snap of a finger. And Jimin is just… cursed to never get there. He doesn’t live in their reality. He doesn’t belong here. Not with them, never with them.
“I think that bowl is dry enough,” Namjoon suddenly says. Jimin looks down at the bowl he’s been rubbing with a dishcloth, over and over, around and around. At once, it’s removed from his hands, and he looks up sharply to see that Namjoon is beside him. “You okay?”
The world feels… shaky. Not literally. Jimin is aware enough to know this isn’t a physical reaction. Still, it renders his entire body rigid. He just… He knows he’s going to lose them one day. They’re… tufts of air, hastily bunched up in his fingers in a desperate attempt to hold, hold, hold them before they disappear.
Noise reaches him, and voices begin to drift towards them from the front door. It sounds like Yoongi, maybe Seokjin, maybe Taehyung too, the three of them together, talking, laughing, loving, and Jimin needs to go. But his powers don’t work here and he needs to…
Suddenly, his hand is wrapped in warmth, and he’s being tugged towards the kitchen exit. Jimin wants to assure him that there’s nothing wrong and Namjoon doesn’t have to bother. But his voice catches and he can’t help following. Namjoon steers him straight to the stairwell that leads to Jimin’s room, takes him down and away from the voices.
“It’s dark in this hallway, huh,” Namjoon says. “Need to tell Jin to pay for some better lights.”
Not as dark as it is when Jimin’s hiding inside one of his domes. That’s what he needs right now. Just escape this world for a little while. Remind himself of the one thing he can do, even if all it ever does is hurt him. That’s okay. There’s a steadiness in that kind of pain. A certainty.
Namjoon opens the bedroom door, leading Jimin in. “The room’s great though, right? It’s cosy, even if it’s just a guest room. And the bed! The bed’s so comfy. I remember feeling like I was gonna drown in it the first time I slept here.”
Jimin’s drowning, he thinks. That’s what this is, what it feels like. He’s drowning and his fears are going to swallow him whole. Useless, unnecessary fears, fears that tether him to a life he never wanted. Perhaps he should leave again—and stay gone this time. He wouldn’t have to deal with this, then. He’d be free of this, free of them.
“Hey.” Namjoon turns to face him, lets go of his hand just to cup his cheeks. “What’s wrong? You can talk to me. I’ll help you through it, but you have to… If you can… I just want to help, Mini.”
Jimin blinks when he hears the name of his alter ego. He recalls that night, vividly and intensely, remembering the ease with which he shed the persona of Park Jimin and embraced the easygoing nature of Mini. How, with Namjoon, back then, it felt easy.
It makes a hatred rise up in him like bile—for himself. For who he is and how difficult it is to be himself. But Mini… Mini is easy. Mini doesn’t have a care in the world. Mini can love and lust and want. He… She… can take what she wants when she wants it. She’s a better version of him. Jimin wants to be her again.
It’s Mini who wraps her hands around Namjoon’s wrists, Mini who bats her eyelashes at him, Mini who surges forward with ready lips to take what she wants. Jimin retreats in terror, letting Mini take control because it’s easier that way, and it’s easiest with Namjoon, who knows her. Who can take care of her in the way she needs.
“Jimin—” Namjoon cuts off when their lips touch. For a second, he seems too stunned to move. His lips part, and he tries again. “Jimin—”
“Mini.”
“What?”
“Call me… Call me Mini, please.”
“Mini,” Namjoon says. Their lips meet again, and this time Namjoon doesn’t pull away. He leans into it, hands detaching from Mini’s to wrap behind her neck, drift up into her hair. Her hair… Jimin shudders and forces himself to ignore the difference. It’s longer than it usually is, even if it’s not quite long enough.
Mini will have to grow it out, so that when Namjoon threads his fingers down the strands, they don’t just stop at his neck.
Namjoon draws back, hands moving with a tender gentleness as he drags them back to Jimin’s—Mini’s—cheeks, just the tips of fingers touching bits of skin. “We haven’t done that in a while,” he notes.
“Mm mm. It feels like a long time ago.”
“You sure you’re okay with it, Mini?”
Jimin loves the way Namjoon says that name. He loves the way Namjoon holds him. He loves the way Namjoon looks at him like there’s no one else in the world he would rather be with. But he’s just… him. Sometimes he’s Mini, but he’s also him, and it doesn’t make sense why Namjoon would do any of this when Jimin had been seconds away from a breakdown.
“I don’t know,” Jimin spouts, wanting to curl in on himself. He doesn’t understand why his heart aches for them when he knows they can never be. He doesn’t understand why he wants to ignore the fact that this will end in heartbreak one day and just take advantage of the short term gain.
“That’s okay,” Namjoon tells him. “You don’t always have to have all the answers.” He drops one of his hands, but the other cards back into his hair, stroking him, down the back of his head, then reset, and again, reset, and again. It calms Jimin somewhat. Makes him feel like he’s not in the middle of a battlefield. Makes him feel… grounded.
“I don’t like not having any answers,” Jimin admits.
“Mm. Do you want to talk about why that is?”
“Feels like… I can’t control it then.” Can’t control his feelings, can’t control his actions, and once he loses control of that, what then? He can barely control his powers. He can’t control anything. He doesn’t understand himself. He doesn’t understand them. He doesn’t understand anything.
“So you’ve just been… feeling out of control lately?”
“I guess.”
“Is it because of us? Of me and the others? Do you feel pressured?”
“It’s not that.”
“Okay,” Namjoon says, still stroking, still speaking in a soft tone. It’s for him. Jimin knows it’s for him and it makes him feel undeserving. “So you don’t feel pressured… Are you okay with kissing? Is that something you want with us?”
Jimin flinches, turning away in embarrassment. Namjoon pulls him back, his whole hand on the back of Jimin’s head, holding him in place.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he says. “It’s okay to want that. Heck, all of us have been dying for kisses from you.”
It’s not just the fact that Namjoon just admitted he wants to kiss him but more the fact he said all of them do. Jimin’s cheeks warm at a rapid pace.
Even Taehyung?
Yoongi?
Seokjin?
“It doesn’t matter,” Jimin argues, because the belief in this is so strong, he can’t wrap his mind around anything else. “I’ll have to leave this place one day.”
“And go where?” Namjoon questions.
Jimin doesn’t know how to answer that. “I… I can’t stay here forever.”
“Why not?”
Jimin huffs. “I have things I need to do. I can’t just forget that. I can’t just run away from that.”
“Seems to me like this is the thing you’re running away from.”
Jimin scrambles to dispute that. “No, you’re wrong. This is all temporary—”
“But it doesn’t have to be.” Namjoon grabs Jimin’s shoulders with strong and steady hands. “Do you really believe that? We didn’t invite you here to cast you aside. You’re… You’re one of us.”
“I’m not—”
Namjoon wraps him up in a tight hug, swift and sudden. “You are. You’ve become so important to us, you have no idea.”
Jimin is reminded of a conversation he overheard, when the others thought he was sleeping and they said all these things. Things that surprised him but made him feel so warm, he didn’t know what to do with himself. Just knew he wanted so badly to believe those things they said.
In the nights, he thinks about those things—wishing, hoping, wanting.
And here Namjoon is, telling it to his face, and Jimin can’t believe him.
“You’re lying,” Jimin says.
“I’m not. I wish you could…” Namjoon pulls back, a sudden desperation to his actions. He takes one of Jimin’s hands, putting it on his chest. “Do you feel that? Do you think that’s fake? Do you think my heart races for just anybody?”
It’s thudding away, so unrestrained and unabashed, it’s making Jimin crazy. But his own, he thinks, is competing for first place. And it’s crazy, that this little action, this little occurrence, is helping Namjoon’s words sink in. It’s crazy that Jimin can feel himself wanting to cling to them like a lifeline.
Pull me out of this dark, lonely place, he wants to say.
I want to be with you.
The thought hits him like a ten-foot wave, and for a second he’s stunned by the clarity of it. For one blissful second, he feels fully in control of the feeling. Understands it. Thinks he can even touch it.
But… how does one embrace such a large, encompassing, overwhelming feeling? Jimin doesn’t know how, and the tendrils of his fears snake back, curling around his ankles and dragging him back down.
Maybe it’s hopeless.
Maybe it’s not a problem of not knowing what he wants; he’s just not capable of it in the first place.
Namjoon’s hand grows a little limp. After a moment, he sets Jimin’s hand down. “I won’t rush you. I’ll wait as long as I have to, Jimin, Mini… Pretty Mini.”
He goes back to Jimin’s hair like he hasn’t already gotten enough, this time just letting his fingers linger on the ends, twirling some strands between his thumb and forefinger. All this time, Jimin’s heart hasn’t stopped thumping. It’s so loud, he thinks the whole apartment can hear it.
“What if I grew it out?” Jimin asks. His heart’s in his throat. He wants but he’s scared but he wants. Namjoon’s head tilts a little to the side, so Jimin clarifies, “My hair.”
“I think it would look beautiful,” Namjoon tells him, every word dripping with sincerity.
“I want to.” Admitting that… it feels good. It’s something he can control. A simple desire in the vast ocean of desires inside him, but one that is infinitely less overwhelming. And telling Namjoon about it makes things suddenly less hopeless.
Like maybe he’s allowed to want.
And maybe he’s allowed to dream.
And maybe one day he’ll be capable—of loving them.
🔥
Sometimes they go on dates. Not Jimin and one or more of them, but the others. He’ll come up for dinner and see Seokjin, Namjoon and Yoongi heading out to get a meal. He’ll be in the hallway downstairs moving from bathroom to bedroom and hear Hoseok and Taehyung back from a night out.
When Jungkook returns from seeing his parents, he settles back in with them like he never left. He cooks meals, arranges movie nights, more often than not inviting Jimin to join, though Jimin doesn’t always. Sometimes it feels like imposing. Even the knowledge that they want him hasn’t completely assuaged Jimin’s fears.
There’s history between them that simply doesn’t exist where Jimin’s involved. And he’s not one to force himself into a situation, even if he would like to lounge on the couch in the living room chatting about everything and nothing all at once. Even if he would like to suggest they watch a silly movie they can laugh over. Even if he would like to take a walk in the park with someone, standing close enough to each other that their hands almost touch.
He feels warm and wrong every time his mind drifts in directions like that. There’s a great desperate urge to squash those thoughts, fling them far away from him because they have no place here.
But the worst thing…
The worst thing is the envy. It starts hitting him from out of nowhere. Maybe it was there before, but he was too focused on rejecting what he wanted that he couldn’t even recognise the other emotion hanging nearby. But after speaking to Namjoon, after at least acknowledging that there’s something here, he starts to notice it.
When Hoseok so easily wraps his arms around Jungkook and kisses him full on the lips… When Jimin takes too long going from stairs to kitchen and he hears the sounds from one of the boys’ rooms… When Seokjin gazes lovingly into Taehyung’s eyes… Or Namjoon places a hand on the small of someone’s back… Or Jungkook brings a meal to Yoongi’s room…
Jimin wants it so much that it starts to make him angry. Someone look at him, someone touch him, someone take care of him. He’s here, he wants it, can’t they see him? Standing right here?
But when he finds himself faced with a possible kiss with Hoseok after a particularly gruelling training session, it’s all he can do not to panic and run away. When Yoongi and him share a searing gaze in the kitchen one morning, Jimin’s instinct is to hide. When Jungkook gets too close while they’re looking at files, Jimin steadfastly ignores it. When Namjoon smiles at him, when Seokjin pats his head, when Taehyung looks at him imploringly…
Jimin does absolutely nothing. He’s trapped in place, forever destined to watch the only people who have ever made him feel welcome drift further and further away.
He’s jealous of their ability to be with one another.
He’s jealous of their ability to love.
He’s just… jealous.
It’s a rare evening that the seven of them are all home together for a meal, but tonight is such an evening. Jimin is slowly making his way through his food while the others talk around him. Usually, this is how it is. They pose questions his way sometimes, and maybe it’s his short answers or lack of anything interesting to say, but those conversations never last very long.
So right now he’s not saying anything. There are three separate conversations going on but he’s closest in vicinity to Seokjin and Namjoon, so it’s snippets of what they’re talking about that he picks up on.
“You really shouldn’t strain yourself,” Namjoon is saying. “You know what happens when you spread yourself too thin.”
Seokjin dismissively waves a hand. “I’m not even halfway to my limit.”
“Halfway to your limit literally gives you migraines.”
“Nothing painkillers can’t solve.”
“Hyung.”
“What is it, Namjoon?”
Namjoon shakes his head. “You’re so quick to ignore things that harm you, but what happens if you actually reach that point again? What happens to us? To Hobi and Tae? If you can’t keep a steady hold on them and the government found out—”
“That’ll never happen,” Seokjin says with a kind of steely tone, like he doesn’t appreciate Namjoon’s interjection into this problem.
Jimin doesn’t fully understand the context of it, but he reckons it has something to do with Seokjin’s mind control abilities when it comes to keeping the seven—no, six— of them safe, and why he looks so tired all the time.
“All I’m saying is you should slow down,” Namjoon goes on, evidently uncaring of Seokjin’s distaste for where this conversation has gone. “Take a few days off. The gang can survive without you for that long.”
“Hwan’s being a pain in the ass again, and some upstart self-proclaimed vigilantes are making trouble in our district again.”
“Then I’ll deal with them.”
“Your hands are full rebuilding your club—”
“I can multitask.”
“Joon, I’m fine. I’ve got it under control. I haven’t had a migraine in months.”
Jimin takes it as— Seokjin’s power has its limits. If he overuses it, it gives him migraines. Just like Jimin’s powers keep turning around to bite him, he supposes he’s not the only one at risk. He wants to ask Seokjin how that makes him feel. Is it as scary for him as it is for Jimin, who lately hasn’t been able to walk through walls like he once could?
“It’s about prevention, Jinnie. We can never be too safe.”
“There’s too much to do. That hero everyone’s been on about is going to debut any day now. You’ve heard the rumours. He, she, whoever it is, has the power to destroy all our operations. If you want to talk about prevention, talk about that.”
“Always so stubborn,” Namjoon mumbles.
“But you know I’m right.”
“Hey, no fighting at family dinners,” Jungkook shoots their way. It looks like some of the others have decided to listen in on the conversation too.
“If it makes you all feel better,” Hoseok says, pointing his chopsticks in their direction, “Tae and I haven’t been given notice about this new hero at all. Plus, the latest batch of heroes won’t be debuting for another three months.”
Seokjin’s face sours. He doesn’t even try to respond, which gives Taehyung the chance to add, “I think you can afford to take some time off, Jin-hyung.”
“I second that,” Jungkook says.
Yoongi pipes up too. “It doesn’t seem like a terrible idea.”
“Everybody wants me to take a break, huh?” Seokjin grumbles. “I mean, what am I supposed to do with that?”
You could spend time with me.
The thought comes unbidden. Jimin freezes in his spot, his heart picking up speed because he so badly wants to say it. For some reason, he thinks if he does, Seokjin will relent. He can see it clearly in his mind’s eye. The way Seokjin would sigh in resignation but then grant him a soft smile. He would give that to Jimin, and Jimin would hold it close.
But he just—
He can’t say it. It’s stupid to think he would even have that kind of influence over Seokjin, even if he craves it.
“We can hang out,” Jungkook says easily. “Did I tell you I bought a karaoke machine?”
Seokjin blinks in surprise. “How much did that cost?”
“Doesn’t matter. You’re all always complaining how hard it is to get the seven of us together for a karaoke sesh, I figured why not bring the karaoke sesh to us?”
“You can try my new game too,” Taehyung says. “It’s got solo options but if I’m around, we can play together too.”
Suddenly everyone has an idea to get Seokjin to relax. Watch a movie marathon, check out that new restaurant nearby, go for a walk in the park, work out in the gym upstairs, meditate. There are a hundred things he can do, and none of them involve Jimin.
At least, not explicitly.
And that just makes Jimin really, really angry. So angry, in fact, that his entire mood plummets and he gobbles up the rest of his food in a hurry because he just wants to get out of here. He just— hates how hard it is to say it, but also hates how no one even mentions him, like he’s not even here.
What the hell is he here for then?!
Jimin glances up to see Yoongi’s eyes on him. Even though they’re down here and their powers shouldn’t work, Jimin can’t help but feel like Yoongi knows what he’s feeling. All that does is make Jimin angrier.
He stands, drawing all eyes to him. Feeling the need to say something, he blurts out, “I’m going for a walk.”
There are some protests, and some offers to join, but Jimin refuses all of them, claiming he wants to be alone.
That’s such a lie.
He ignores the unwanted thought.
That’s the last thing you want.
Jimin stuffs his hands in his pockets once he’s outside and just… walks. He walks and walks, and even when he starts to grow tired and the street lights in the darkness start to hurt his eyes, he keeps going. Even when dark clouds roll in and he can’t see the moon anymore, he keeps walking.
It’s only when the aimless walking starts to turn into overthinking that he slows down. At about the same time, the first drops of rain start to fall. He glances at the closest street signs, unsure where exactly he’s walked to. The street is in a fairly busy part of town, though it’s slowly starting to clear as people look for shelter away from the rain.
Jimin follows suit, finding a covered bus stop to stand beneath while he fishes out his phone to find his way back. He doesn’t even consider anything else. For a singular moment, all he thinks about is going home so he can get dry and warm, maybe curl up with a cup of hot cocoa in front of the TV.
His fingers, zooming into the street he’s on, pause their movements. At some point, he started thinking of that place as home.
The rain starts to crash above him, and he’s momentarily distracted by it. Bits of it splash from the floor onto his shoes and ankles, and he has to inch further into the centre of the bus stop to avoid getting wetter. It’s starting to get crowded under here though, as more people think to do the same as him.
He should have thought to bring an umbrella. Scratch that—
He should have never left home at all.
A shoulder bumps into him, and he bites his lip in distaste. A feeling starts to creep up on him, accompanied by the words I hate this, I hate this, I hate this. He doesn’t want to be here any longer. He just wants to go home.
The thought spurs him into pushing back out onto the sidewalk. Rain soaks through his clothes in seconds, but it doesn’t last long, because as soon as he’s ducked into an empty alley, he blinks a dome into existence. It erupts around him, just big enough to house him and not cause anyone else alarm.
When he and Hoseok last trained, Jimin wondered if there was a different way to use his powers. This is the result of one of his experiments—instead of creating a dome several blocks long to travel across, he practised creating one just around himself, which would follow him as he moved.
Hoseok described it as watching what looked like a black hole in the shape of a person zipping across the room—eerie and fascinating. Jimin uses the same skill now, not really thinking as he zooms to his destination at lightspeed, zooms through the air and the rain, zooms until he recognises his surroundings with his senses, then ducks into an empty alley so he can drop the dome without anyone seeing.
It’s only then that he realises what he’s done. The combination of light and rain that bleeds out of him has him groaning in discomfort. He slaps a hand on a grimy wall, hanging his head and shutting his eyes as the materials he absorbed peel out of him.
He’s beginning to think… maybe… he shouldn’t use these powers anymore.
Immediately rejects the thought, because how else is he supposed to kill his mother without them?
“Jimin?”
Jimin blinks, looking towards where the voice is coming from. A figure walks in his direction from the alley’s entrance, holding an umbrella. It takes Jimin a few seconds to recognise that it’s Seokjin.
All at once, Seokjin is holding the umbrella over him. The incessant rain pouring down on him ceases, but it doesn’t stop pouring out of him. He watches the rain and light mix together into this blurry substance with morbid fascination. It’s just not natural. Powers like this shouldn’t exist.
“You used your powers?” Seokjin’s asking. “Oh, sweetheart. Does it hurt?”
Jimin’s trembling as he nods, his eyes pricking with unshed tears. Suddenly, Seokjin is pulling him to his chest, holding him one-handed so he can keep the umbrella steady above them.
“It’ll be over soon.”
It will be; Jimin knows that, but it still hurts. It doesn’t take more than a few seconds for it to trail off. His body returns to its normal state. Seokjin explains to him after, “The others and I just left to look for you. We figured you didn’t bring an umbrella.”
He’s just so… kind. In the way he holds Jimin, in the way he speaks, just— in every way. They all are. They’re all so kind, and Jimin doesn’t deserve them.
Yet he still nods when Seokjin says, “Let’s go home.”
On the way up to the apartment, Seokjin gets the message out that he found Jimin and took him home. But because it will take some time for them to return, the two of them enter into silence. Immediately, Seokjin guides Jimin to the hallway that leads to all their rooms. They enter the doorway to Seokjin’s. Jimin’s wet feet soak the floor, but Seokjin doesn’t seem to care.
“Let’s get you warm,” Seokjin says.
Jimin lets himself be taken care of. He doesn’t know what comes over him; all he knows is he’s feeling low and he doesn’t have the energy to refuse even the smallest bit of comfort. Seokjin draws him a bath, grabs him a fresh towel, and tells him to strip and get in and stay in for at least half an hour.
Seokjin leaves him to it. He doesn’t watch and he doesn’t offer to join, so Jimin just thinks about it while wallowing in self pity inside the warm water. He pulls his knees to his chest and quietly pouts to himself how unfair it all is. Is Seokjin doing all this because he feels he has to? If so, then Jimin doesn’t want it.
Why doesn’t he ever seek Jimin out?
(Never mind that he has. To Jimin, it’s not enough.)
Jimin shuffles out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist some time later, expecting to find Seokjin waiting for him. Instead, all he sees is a set of blue pyjamas sporting little angels sitting on the bed. The clothes weren’t there before, so Seokjin must have put it out for him… right?
Snatching them from the bed, Jimin returns to the bathroom and gets changed. The clothes smell a little bit like lavender when he brings the slightly oversized sleeves to his face. He takes several breaths of it, feeling just a little more like himself.
When he comes out, he nearly jumps out of his skin.
Seokjin is back, perched at the foot of his bed. He smiles when he sees Jimin’s reaction. Or maybe he’s admiring the pyjama set Jimin now wears. That seems more likely, considering the way Seokjin looks him up and down.
“I- I didn’t know you were back,” Jimin says, feeling the need to explain himself.
“I came to check on you and saw the clothes were gone. Thought I’d wait for you here instead of making you come find me.”
Jimin is certain he wouldn’t have sought Seokjin out. He might have wanted to. Definitely would have wanted to—at least to thank him for bringing him back and drawing him a bath and whatnot. But he might have lost courage. He can see himself doing that in his mind’s eye.
So in a way it’s better that Seokjin came back. It’s sort of perfect timing.
Maybe that was intentional.
“Thanks for…” Jimin’s mind zips through a million responses. “... the clothes.”
“No problem. Are you warm enough?”
Jimin crosses his arms at the elbow. “I’m better than before.”
“C’mere.” Seokjin stands for a moment to grab the throw blanket on his bed. When Jimin’s nearer, he whips it around Jimin’s shoulders and wraps him up in it. “Warm enough now?”
“I’m…” He doesn’t know how to ask for what he wants.
“Wanna get under the covers too?”
“... With you?”
Seokjin smiles kindly. “With me,” he confirms.
Jimin looks at the bed and its light pink covers and mountain of pillows and thinks he would very much like to get under there, particularly if Seokjin is going to join. Seokjin tosses the sheets aside and settles against some pillows, then pats the space beside him welcomingly. Holding the throw blanket close around him, Jimin crawls onto the bed too.
Once he’s comfortable, Seokjin grabs the blanket he threw aside and drapes it across their laps. Jimin is pleasantly surprised when Seokjin squirms a little closer, enough that their shoulders are touching. That touch ignites something inside Jimin. It’s like a hot coil in his gut, unfolding in anticipation.
“Did you have a good walk?” Seokjin asks. “I mean, before you got caught in the rain.”
“It was nice. The rain part was… not so nice.”
“It came on so suddenly.”
“It’s been raining a lot these days.”
“I guess so.” Seokjin sighs, relaxing back even further. His shoulder now presses firmly to Jimin’s. “I’m sorry it’s been so hard for you.”
Jimin is surprised by the sudden apology. “It’s fine. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I’m not always here. I don’t think that helps, does it? I’m not really showing you a united front. All of us get so fractured sometimes. It must be hard finding your place within that.”
It’s such a different picture than Jimin has been seeing. “You don’t seem fractured to me. You all seem… whole. I’m the one who doesn’t fit in.”
Seokjin snorts. “Of course you fit in.”
“No I don’t. You don’t have to lie to me. I already know. I’m not like all of you. I can’t just act like all of you, so… so… carefree.”
“Carefree? I’m anything but carefree, or did you not hear Namjoon practically order me to take a break?”
Even though the words could come across harshly, Seokjin’s tone carries a gentleness that serves to make Jimin feel a little sheepish for making such a careless remark. So maybe Seokjin isn’t carefree, but it’s still easy for him.
“You all have this unspoken language with each other,” Jimin says, ugly jealousy rearing its head. “You understand each other. You know how to talk to each other. You can kiss and touch and ask to hang out and it’s just easy. I don’t have that. I’ll never have that.”
It doesn’t even occur to him that it might sound like he’s complaining that he’s not already officially with them. To Jimin, it’s not even about that. The fact is, he believes himself truly and unequivocally unable to be in a loving relationship. No matter how much he wants it, it’s not in the cards for him.
Seokjin is looking at him strangely. “You can do that with us too.”
“I can’t.”
“‘Course you can. I’d drop everything to do any of those things with you if you just asked.”
“But I can’t!” Jimin huffs angrily, enviously. “I can’t ask! I don’t know how.”
Seokjin works his mouth, expression flitting from a near smile into confusion and then finally settling into determination. “Then how about we practise?”
Jimin must be on a roll because he just bites back, “What good will that too?”
“Well, when things feel impossible, you have to practise to get better, no? Like when you’re playing video games with Tae. Didn’t you finally beat him in that one game the other day?”
When Seokjin puts it that way, suddenly it doesn’t seem so impossible anymore. Is that it? Does he just lack experience?
“How…” Jimin tries, feeling small and vulnerable and exposed. “How do I even practise something like that?”
“Simple,” Seokjin says. “You try asking me. I can even help you phrase it, if you want. You can just repeat after me.”
Repeating whatever words Seokjin comes up with should be doable. Jimin bites his lip and nods. “We can try that.”
“You mentioned hanging out just now. Did you feel like you couldn’t ask me to hang out earlier at dinner?”
It’s embarrassing to admit, so Jimin doesn’t look at Seokjin as he gives another nod.
“Okay. Let’s try this. Try saying: ‘Can we hang out, Jin-hyung?’”
Jimin looks at Seokjin in mild alarm. He hasn’t addressed him as hyung before. Come to think of it, has there ever been a time Jimin has addressed anyone like that? Suddenly, the word feels like the biggest obstacle.
“What? Was that too hard?” Seokjin asks, almost looking bewildered.
“Um… I’ve just never… I know you’re older than me but saying… calling you… that…”
“Oh.” A smile overtakes Seokjin’s face. “Don’t you think we’re close enough for that at this point?”
Close?
Seokjin thinks they’re close?
Jimin’s cheeks feel too warm. “I… I don’t know.”
Seokjin’s eyes soften. “Well, you can address me differently if you’re not comfortable with hyung quite yet.”
The whole point of this is to practise though, isn’t it? Jimin can’t be tripping up over the littlest word. It’s just a word. He takes a deep breath and lets it out. It’s just practice. It doesn’t have to mean anything. It’s just about saying the words out loud. Getting used to it. Getting comfortable.
“Can… Can we hang out, Jin-hyung?”
Seokjin lightly nudges his shoulder. “I’d love to.”
Jimin is so relieved by the answer that he almost feels like crying, and because of that, he almost feels like laughing because it really is such a simple thing. He can’t believe he agonised over it for so long.
“What should we do?” Seokjin asks.
“Um…” Jimin glances at the other, suddenly hyper aware of how close they are. He tells himself this is practice too. Seokjin hasn’t said their session is over, after all. Maybe… Maybe Jimin can just… “Can we… maybe kiss, Jin-hyung?”
Seokjin hums, a glint entering his eye. “That’s what you were after all along, huh?”
“I- I just—”
“The thing is, Jimin, if we do kiss, it won’t be practice for me. It’ll be the real thing. Are you okay with that?”
“I am,” Jimin breathes out.
Electricity zips through him as Seokjin cups Jimin’s cheek, leans forward, and crashes their lips together in an instant. Jimin doesn’t even have time to suck in a breath. Seokjin is handsy, a hand coming up to push the throw blanket off his shoulders, lightly brushing across exposed skin.
It makes Jimin sink into the kiss, and perhaps because of his lax stance, Seokjin guides him backwards until he’s as flat on his back as can be with a heap of pillows behind him. Seokjin’s lips never break contact as he slots a leg between Jimin’s, not quite pressing but still making his presence known.
It’s all Jimin can think—how close Seokjin is, and how desperate he is for them to go further.
Just when Jimin thinks Seokjin might instigate it, the other pulls back. He keeps a hand curled on Jimin’s cheek, thumb brushing the skin right by his lips.
“Been wanting to do that for a long time,” Seokjin tells him.
A hushed breath rushes from Jimin’s lips. Boldly, he slides a hand behind Seokjin’s neck, pulling him back down. Seokjin goes, eyes shutting as he kisses Jimin with fervour once more, all passion and intensity. It drives Jimin crazy when they break apart after only a few seconds.
But then Seokjin grins. And then he says, “I think you did a great job asking.”
Jimin’s cheeks heat up. God, he had… he had just gone and asked for a kiss. How desperate can someone be? A million arguments rise up inside him. A million excuses. But they all fall apart when he thinks about Seokjin’s words, making sure he knew that this wasn’t practice, it was real.
And if it was real, then Seokjin wanted it. It feels like a dream. Jimin’s been craving it, that closeness, that feeling of belonging, but also that feeling like he can have things that always seemed out of reach.
“The other day, Namjoon told me you’ve all been dying to kiss me,” Jimin says. He suddenly feels shy, unable to meet Seokjin’s eye. “I didn’t think you did though. I thought maybe you weren’t interested.”
Seokjin scoffs. “I’ve been interested for a long time.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“I just didn’t wanna pressure you. You’ve been… You are… going through a lot. And honestly, so am I.” Seokjin huffs softly, suddenly sounding amused. “Maybe they were right. I’ve been so focused on work that it made it easy to ignore my feelings for you. But, my god, Jimin, have I never wanted to be with someone more.”
Seokjin just said so many things that Jimin has no idea what to focus on first. In the end, he can only blurt, “You have feelings for me?”
Their gazes meet, and Seokjin wears a slight look of disbelief. But he just chuckles, then answers, “I do.”
“I see.”
It’s becoming overwhelming again. Not in the sense that Jimin wants to run away, or that he’s about to have a full blown panic attack. He’s just… stunned. Although, he supposes a part of him knew. Over the weeks since he arrived here, and then chose to stay here, he could tell that something was building.
But it’s one thing to sense it, and quite another to be told it’s there. Especially when it comes from Seokjin’s lips… Seokjin who Jimin might have developed a crush on from the very first time they met. Seokjin who always seemed like the most elusive of them all.
Feelings.
It’s one thing to want someone, and quite another to have feelings.
Jimin thinks about Namjoon and the beat of his heart, thudding away like there was no tomorrow, so… carefree.
He frowns, something that Seokjin said earlier nagging at him. “Why did you say you were fractured? You and the others.”
“Ah, that?” Seokjin scratches the side of his head. “I guess I meant it more on my part. I’ve been a little absent in general, not physically, just emotionally. It all gets a little taxing sometimes, and I find it hard to be present with everyone. Namjoon noticed. I think they all did.”
“Does using your powers exhaust you that much?”
“It’s not just my powers, though I guess that’s a large part of it. My powers have a one-time short-term function, but they have a long term function too. It’s like the one I used on you, to make our promises. It doesn’t take up much energy but if I have multiple long term threads at the same time, eventually it takes a toll. But it’s not just that.”
Seokjin leans up a little so he can look at Jimin more head on. “I’m not in a pretty business. Sometimes I have to do things I don’t like. Sometimes I’m forced to make choices that hurt the people I care about. It’s not a physical toll. It’s an emotional one.”
Jimin takes in the slightly sunken eyes and the pale cheeks. He can even hear it, the exhaustion that sighs out of him with every word he speaks. Not a physical exhaustion. An emotional one. Jimin thinks he can relate to that. A lot of the time, it’s his emotions that wreck him more than physical pains ever can.
“You should rest then,” Jimin says.
Seokjin leans back again, sinking against his pillows. “Ah… I think you’re right.”
Earlier, Jimin thought if he voiced his thoughts about it, Seokjin would relent. He’s sort of surprised to find that he was right. Swallowing his own lingering fears, he leans back too, letting his head gently knock against Seokjin’s.
He wants… Jimin gnaws on his lower lip, letting the words play over and over again in his head.
Practice.
“Can I rest with you, Jin-hyung?” Jimin asks.
“Of course.”
Jimin can’t see Seokjin’s smile but he can hear it. He gets giddy from it, even goes so far as to twist onto his side so he’s practically pressed up against Seokjin’s chest. An arm reaches out, draping over him and the throw blanket that he still has partly wrapped around him.
Maybe he’s just been impatient. Maybe these connections he’s been aching for can only grow with time. He’s been in such a rush wanting to skip to the part where it’s easy that he nearly missed out on the parts that are good.
And this… this is good.
They settle like that, side by side, resting. Jimin shuts his eyes comfortably, feeling calm for the first time in days.
Notes:
ahhhh the way i wanna bundle this jimin up and make sure he has eternal hugs from these boys :') i'd love to hear what you think!! meanwhile, i'll get started on the next chapter right away <3
Chapter 12
Notes:
surprise! it's been a long while since i updated this and i'm sorry, once again :( on the bright side, i've actually mapped out how the rest of this fic will go and decided on a rough number of chapters i have left to finish this, as long as everything goes to plan. after this one, i think i can wrap the story up in about 6 chapters? that's the hope anyway! this fic is one of my focuses for the new year, so i'm hoping i can finish it by mid-2026. fingers crossed! as always, comments are my life blood and keep me motivated as i write. if you're still reading this, i'd love to hear what you think :]
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Something is different. Jimin stirs, turning from his side onto his back. He feels a little like he’s sinking into his sheets, and it’s such a warm and comfortable feeling that he sort of just wants to stay here forever.
Eventually, though, wakefulness replaces sleep, and he finds himself blinking his eyes open. He’s not in his room, that much is obvious, even though blackout curtains mean he’s not able to make out that much. His memories of the night before crop up—talking to Seokjin, cuddling with him, asking for kisses…
His cheeks warm up, and he drags his blanket over his head. He can still feel those lips on his own, soft and plump and hot. He’s glad Seokjin is already awake so that Jimin can panic over their shared intimacy in peace.
He tells himself it’s not a big deal. He’s made out with so many of them now, each different in their own way. Now he can just add one more to the list. It’s not like it means they’re together now. It’s not like it actually changes anything. Jimin is still planning on leaving one day.
The thought sobers him up. He finally gets out of bed, making a pit stop in Seokjin’s bathroom to freshen up. When that’s done, he trails out of the bedroom, still wearing his borrowed pajamas. There’s a nice smell filling the central area, and he deduces quickly that it’s coming from the kitchen.
“... if we worked together, maybe we could find the source of it?”
“I’ve been thinking the same thing. It’s one of the first things we learn in the hero programme, but it’s clear he never got that kind of training.”
“Those bastards didn’t care if it hurt him as long as it worked.”
“Stupid, if you ask me.”
Jimin frowns at the doorway. Seokjin is speaking to Hoseok, and he can’t be entirely certain, but he thinks they’re talking about him. He might have headed downstairs at the discovery a few weeks ago, angry or annoyed that they would talk about him behind his back. But… right now, he’s just curious.
So he shoves the door open, walking in. Both hero and villain turn around at the sound, greeting him in their own ways.
“Jiminie!” Hoseok exclaims from his spot at the kitchen island.
Seokjin turns from the stove, where he seems to be cooking something. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”
Jimin could say he had one of the best sleeps of his life, but he doesn’t want to be overdramatic. “I did,” he says, peering at the stove. “What are you making?”
“Pancakes,” Seokjin says. He points at a plate on the table, where a few finished pancakes have been stacked. “Help yourself.”
“C’mere,” Hoseok says, pulling out the chair beside him. Jimin takes it, and Hoseok slides over an empty plate, dumping a pancake on it. “There’s butter and syrup too. You don’t know this, but it’s a rare day that Jin makes pancakes for us. He’s always too busy, see, but I hear you convinced him to take a break.”
Jimin flushes. “I didn’t do anything.”
Seokjin glances back with a small and endeared smile. Hoseok reaches up to rub the top of Jimin’s head, and then he jumps up. “Silverware! Guess you need a fork if you want to eat.”
He gets Jimin a fork. Jimin has never felt quite so cared for, but he doesn’t feel like rejecting it right now. He accepts the fork with thanks, starting to eat. Hoseok puts another pancake on his own plate, buttering it up and slathering it with a lot of syrup before using the side of his fork to cut and eat it.
“This is really good, Seokjin hyung.”
“If I wasn’t Luna, I probably would have been a cook,” Seokjin says, dumping another finished pancake on the serving plate.
“What if you retired?” Jimin doesn’t mean it like he thinks Seokjin should retire. He’s just curious. “Like, what would happen to the criminal underworld?”
“Probably a lot of chaos,” Seokjin says. “I can’t go into too much detail, but we keep some of the worst criminals in check. Without us, there would probably be an uptick in criminal activity, and a lot of regular people would suffer because of it.”
“On the surface though, it would be a win for the heroes,” Hoseok tells him. “Luna represents the worst of the villains, no offense, hyung. Even if in the long run, taking him down would be bad for society, it doesn’t matter to a lot of heroes because of his reputation as such a notorious criminal. A lot of people can’t see the bigger picture.”
“A win for the heroes… and you’re dating him,” Jimin says.
Hoseok shrugs. “I’m not a regular hero, Jiminie. I don’t just blindly follow orders. Sure, sometimes I have to act like I do, but I have bigger dreams than this.”
“What bigger dreams?”
“I…” Hoseok frowns, shaking his head. “I don’t know right now. There’s a gap in my memories because… Right, Jin hyung had to make it that way.”
“Don’t pry at it, Hob-ah.”
“I know.”
“It’ll all work out in the end.”
Jimin looks from Seokjin to Hoseok, then back. “What are you both planning?”
“Not me,” Hoseok says. “Him.”
Seokjin eyes Jimin carefully, hesitating before finally saying, “That’s something we’ll have to discuss in private.”
They let the matter drop. Jimin devours four more pancakes before calling it quits. As he’s about to dismiss himself, though, he remembers the conversation he overheard. “By the way, what were you both talking about before I got here?”
Seokjin tilts his head to the side. He’s done making pancakes now and sits on Jimin’s other side, sandwiching him.
“Something about training,” Jimin prompts.
“Ah!” Hoseok says. “Your powers.”
So they were talking about him.
“Right.” Seokjin swallows before going on, “When I found you last night, you were practically bleeding rain. I know you’ve had some training sessions with Hobi, so I thought I’d ask him what he thought.”
“Your powers keep hurting you, Jiminie. I want to help you figure out why.”
“They’ve always been like this,” Jimin says.
“All your life?”
“Mhm. But it got worse as I learned to increase the amount of time I spent in my phantom dome.”
“And absorbing other materials like ice and water… Was that something you could always do?”
“No. I mean, I never tried?” Jimin frowns at his empty plate. “It became a problem when I started looking at those things as something I had to absorb to travel through them. Like that day with the door. I’d never had trouble going through doors and walls before, but now…”
“Now you’re afraid that when you do, it’ll come out of you the same way my ice did.”
Jimin is going backwards. The more he learns, the more his powers feel like an enemy. He’s not sure how he’s going to fight his mother like this. If she turns a limb into a weapon, she’ll stab right through him when he gets close.
“What if I ran a little workshop for you?” Hoseok is saying.
“Workshop?”
“To figure out the source of your powers,” Seokjin says. “That’s what we were discussing. It’s something all heroes go through when training, but honestly, all Supers should be required to do it. It’s the best way to learn how not to be a danger to others and ourselves.”
“Basically, we’d be working on your powers from scratch. We’ll forget everything you’ve learned about it up till now and work our way up.”
Jimin thinks about the training he did with his father, before he even knew the concept of a phantom dome. Back then, he could make it dark for a second, two seconds tops. And then at the facility, it was never about discovering the source of his powers. It was about pushing it to its limits.
“What do you think?” Hoseok asks. “Are you up for it?”
Is he? He’s not sure. A part of him is afraid to enter that workshop and discover that the further he tries to take his powers, the more they will hurt him. What if he takes it too far and he has to stop? What if he takes it too far… and one day he doesn’t even get the choice to?
But Hoseok and Seokjin are looking at him with so much hope. He finds he can’t dash that, not right now, not after last night. So he gives them a pinched smile, accepting his fate. “Sure. Let’s do it.”
Hoseok beams, and maybe it was worth it. He gets out his phone. “I’ll text the others too.”
The hero sits right next to him, so it’s impossible not to see, even though Jimin tries not to pry. Still, he notices—the group chat he’s been sure they all have for weeks now. He reads the name, ‘Bangtan’, though he doesn’t quite make out the last few texts they’ve sent one another before Hoseok is putting his phone away.
He hears the buzz of Seokjin’s phone. Notices the distinct lack of buzzes from his own. Strangely, envy has his stomach curling, try as he might to tame it. What does it matter that they have yet another thing they don’t share with him? Just because he’s accepted a few advances doesn’t mean he’s with them.
So why should he expect anything more? It’s not like he really deserves any of this. Not like he doesn’t plan to leave them all one day. Wanting things, asking for them… it feels tainted now. He shouldn’t want. Shouldn’t ask.
Staring at the crumbs on his plate, from a dish Seokjin made him just because, he suddenly feels sad. He thinks about Seokjin last night, how happy he was to spend the night together. Happy to be cuddled, happy to be called hyung, happy to kiss. And Jimin’s going to turn around and throw it back in his face one day.
But what if you don’t?
What if you just… stayed?
Impossible. He can’t just forget what they did to him. Despite everything that’s happened in this place, his desire for revenge hasn’t simmered down. It’s just… not the only thing on his mind anymore.
Is he being stupid? Is all of this just a waste of time? Progress doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Facing the things he did with supporters by his side… it doesn’t matter.
But then Hoseok cheers loudly. But then he says to both of them, “Yoongi can’t make it because of work, but everyone else is in for training!”
And seeing that delight, watching Seokjin match it, claiming how long it’s been since they’ve all trained together, and expressing how excited he is to add Jimin to the mix, makes Jimin feel incandescently a part of this.
Suddenly, his doubts creep away to the corners of his mind. It doesn’t matter that it doesn’t matter, when feeling like he’s a part of this feels good.
🔥
“If you all don’t mind, Tae and I would like to run today’s training,” Hoseok says. Everyone’s in gym clothes since they’ll probably be moving around a lot and sweating. Hoseok stands in the center of the arena while the others face him, but at his words, Taehyung goes to stand beside him.
Jimin refuses to meet his old friend’s eyes. Ever since their little squabble, they haven’t spent much time together outside of group settings. Jimin thinks Taehyung’s been avoiding him just as much as he’s been avoiding Taehyung. He shakes the thoughts from his mind. Hoseok is speaking, and he should pay attention.
“Supers should assess their powers from time to time, especially if you use them often. With more use sometimes comes more abilities, but only through assessments can you figure out what those abilities are and how you should use them.”
“Like with my light attack,” Taehyung supplies. “It wasn’t something I even thought was possible, but after stretching my powers so much through training, I became able to manipulate light as well as emit it.”
“Exactly. So I thought instead of sparring like usual, we could demonstrate our powers to each other and see if we can discover anything new about them, together. Tae and I have some ways to inspire you that we learned in hero training, to help guide you along.”
Seokjin hums interestedly. “An intriguing idea. I’m up for it.”
“I’ve always wanted to see what else I might be able to do,” Jungkook says. Jimin looks at him, spotting the excitement on his face. In all the time they’ve spent together, Jimin hasn’t actually seen his powers at work. Suddenly he’s excited too.
“I’m in,” he says.
“Me too,” Namjoon says.
Hoseok claps his hands, grinning. “Excellent! Who would like to go first?”
Jungkook’s hand shoots into the air. He’s definitely the most excited about it, which surprises Jimin because he hasn’t spoken much about his powers with Jimin before. But he supposes there are always new sides to a person to learn about.
Hoseok asks Jungkook to explain his powers, its base, its uses, and everything in between. He’s like a beast, he says, and if he wants to be more accurate about it, he’s more like a dragon than anything else. When it comes time to demonstrate, he changes. His eyes glow, his nails grow sharp like claws, and he can breathe an impressive amount of fire.
Jimin always suspected, of course. The claw marks, the fire powers, of course his mind turned to dragon. “That’s about all I can do though,” Jungkook says, sounding a little disappointed. “I guess I’m fast too? When I want to be? And my senses get more sensitive too, though that’s more of a recent development.”
“I graduated from my hero course with someone similar to you,” Hoseok says, “and he struggled with developing new abilities on top of what seemed obvious. A good starting point for you would probably be to hone those abilities. You’re fast? Get faster. Your senses are more sensitive? Learn to discern between different smells. Test how far you can see. Even breathing fire—see if you can manipulate it. Get it to work for you, rather than just letting it out.”
Jungkook wears this little smile, revealing sharp teeth. “I think I can do that.”
“Let’s have everyone demonstrate their powers, and then we can get into trying all those things,” Hoseok says.
Namjoon goes next. His power is simple—he manipulates air. He can do several things with it, like create air whips, make the air spin fast like a tornado, blast air at an enemy, create air shields against weapons, even bullets, muffle noise by manipulating how sound waves travel through the air, and the list keeps going.
“But I struggle with speed. If I want to make a tornado, it’s a slow build. If an enemy shoots me, I have to know it’s coming so I can prepare an air shield in time.”
“So you already have something you know you want to work on,” Hoseok says.
“Yeah.”
Taehyung has a hand on his chin, obviously thoughtful. When he hums, everyone turns his way. “I wonder… Maybe you should train to control air constantly. Not just in dangerous situations, but when you’re out on walks and whatnot. That way, you’re already holding your weapon. I’m sure speed will come with time. How’s your stamina? How long can you manipulate air before you grow tired?”
Namjoon frowns. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever tested that.”
“Then that’s what you should do.”
“I agree,” Hoseok says chirpily.
Seokjin goes next because when Hoseok asks, Jimin is too afraid to raise his hand. He’ll just go last. He’s not sure he even wants to though, considering everyone here knows how his powers tend to hurt him. He can’t do more with it, because that will mean hurting himself more in the process. His power is unnatural, he thinks. An enemy.
Rather than feel sorry for himself, he decides to pay attention to Seokjin, who’s explaining how his powers work. As they all know, he says, he can control people with his voice. That was the first manifestation of his power. Over time, he learned to create bonds with people, which he calls ‘soft’ mind control, because it doesn’t force you to do things.
But after last night’s discussion, if he could learn a way to not be so exhausted all the time after using it, that would be a plus. He’s not expecting a solution right away though. His is a tough power, after all. It relies on mental stamina, and no amount of meditation or other mental exercises has worked for him in the past. Painkillers only do so much.
“I’ve actually wondered,” Hoseok says, “is it the maintenance of your soft mind control or the use of your hard mind control that tires you out more? Or a combo of both?”
“My soft mind control doesn’t take as much power, or I suppose you might call it mana, for all you video game lovers.” Seokjin chuckles, and Taehyung and Jungkook share a smile. “So if you’re talking about it in terms of that, hard mind control makes me more tired. But it also doesn’t need maintaining, which means I have more capacity for it.”
“You use a lot of power—mana—when you do your hard mind control, but it’s a one time use, and that’s it. While your soft mind control takes less power, but having to maintain it over time slowly depletes you of that mana.”
“Exactly.”
“But your mana has grown over time, hasn’t it?” Hoseok asks.
“It has, though my rate of growth gets less and less over time. I think I’m reaching my peak capacity,” Seokjin says.
“That’s dangerous, isn’t it?” Jungkook asks.
It’s reminiscent of what Namjoon said last night at dinner. Hoseok and Taehyung share a look. The very first day Jimin was here, he learned that Seokjin manipulates the heroes’ memories so that when they're on hero duty, they won’t be able to reveal anything about their connection to one another here.
And that must take a toll.
“Not if I don’t overuse my soft mind control,” Seokjin says. He speaks lightly, reassuringly, but Jimin can sense the fear behind his tone. He’s trying too hard to make it seem like everything’s okay when it’s not. Jimin recognises it because he’s always trying to distance himself from his own problems.
It’s the reason he lets himself speak out loud, wondering, “Can’t you use your soft mind control the same way you use your hard mind control? So that it’s a one time use and doesn’t need maintenance?”
Seokjin frowns. “I’m not sure it would work.”
“Because the base of your abilities are different?” Jimin remembers what Seokjin said before—that his powers are based on trust.
“Exactly. Soft mind control—it requires mutual trust. I let down my walls, and so does the person I’m bonding with. But hard mind control is different. I’m breaking a mental wall when I use it. It’s powerful, and taxing, but it’s permanent, depending on what I’m trying to control.”
“In a way, forcing us to not speak about our connection to you would be less taxing long term,” Taehyung says softly.
“But my directions would be limited. Bonding allows me to be more flexible. Besides, forcing orders on you is not pleasant. You both know that firsthand.”
Seokjin sounds sad when he says that, looking at Hoseok and Taehyung. The heroes offer reassurances that it didn’t hurt them, that they know it’s for their safety. Jimin thinks about his own bond with Seokjin. He thinks about the mental exhaustion, the spent ‘mana’, the constant maintenance. He doesn’t fully understand it, but maybe that’s why his mind starts to form an idea.
“Your soft mind control relies on the other person opening themselves up to you,” Jimin muses out loud. Everyone turns to look at him.
Seokjin answers, “That’s right.”
“And when you touch that person’s mind…” Jimin tries to recall what it was like when they made those promises with each other. What had Seokjin said? A bond like this doesn’t work unless both parties give something. It connects us to each other. “... you form a connection.”
“Yes.”
His mind turns to every conversation he’s had with every person here. He thinks about the words of support and comfort they’ve offered, thinks about how ever since he let them in, even just a little bit, it has made him feel lighter than he’s felt his whole life. And maybe it’s silly to compare this to that, but it’s where his mind goes, and he just… he wants to help him.
“So what if… what if you could offload the mental strain onto us?” Jimin says. Maybe his power doesn’t work like that. Maybe the idea breaks the boundaries of reality. But he thinks about Seokjin’s sadness, how tired he’s been, how worried Namjoon was last night, how Jungkook is slightly fearful, and how Hoseok and Taehyung just want him to be happy.
Thinks about that, and holds Seokjin’s gaze steadily.
Seokjin doesn’t make fun of him. He doesn’t laugh or say that’s impossible. He stares at Jimin quietly, like he’s considering it. Like it’s an idea worth investigating. And then he says, “It’s never crossed my mind that I might be able to do that… but if I can learn to…” His eyes light up. His lips form a semi smile. “That would solve a lot of problems for me all in one go.”
It’s absolutely crazy, completely insane, but having Seokjin look at him like that, all soft and hopeful and grateful, makes Jimin feel like a superhero.
And then it’s his turn.
Some of them already know where he’s at with his powers, but Hoseok tells him to go over all of it again so everyone can hear. Jimin lets out a breath. It’s similar to his days in the facility. They used to do demonstrations too, except he was never the one in charge of his own growth.
It was always a scientist—introducing him to the others, explaining everything he could do and all the new things they wanted him to try. Or it was a test of skills, pitting one child against another, seeing who came out on top. Seeing who could win. Seeing who was more willing to trample on the other in search of victory.
Jimin reminds himself that this is different. He’s not at the facility any longer. They’re not going to force him to absorb fire—or ice or water or any other materials. So there’s nothing to be afraid of.
He looks at Seokjin, who he thinks he helped, and wonders if the others might be able to do the same for him. Maybe, in another reality, not surrounded by harshness and pain and injury, his power could be his friend and not his enemy.
“I can make it go dark by removing all the light in the air,” Jimin says, and he does just this, plunging the room into darkness. He only does it for a few seconds. The light bleeds from his eyes after, and he blinks the ache away. “When I’m in that darkness, which I call a phantom dome, I can move within it.”
He demonstrates this too, and a second later he’s behind the others by the door. He starts walking back to where he was before while the others stare at him in awe. “I used to use this method to escape… certain situations, since I can move freely inside the dome. But my dome is limited in size. Recently, Hoseok gave me the idea to decrease the size of my dome and practise having it move with me.”
He does exactly that. To the others, he’ll look like a dark shadow moving swiftly from one end of the room to the other. “I’m still unpractised, so I’m slower when I use this method,” Jimin says when he’s back to normal. “And I think that’s it.”
Hoseok tsk’s. “You forgot some things. You can absorb other materials too, can’t you?”
He knows the answer, but he’s letting Jimin speak for himself. Jimin stifles a sigh, but Hoseok’s right to bring it up. If he’s going to get any help in improving his abilities, he has to mention everything. “I’ve absorbed ice, fire and water too, but when I do, these materials leak out of me. It’s an unpleasant experience, and I try to avoid it as much as possible.”
“Fire?” Jungkook mouths, his voice barely audible.
Jimin remembers something else. “I can control things in the dome too. I can lift things—” He does it, creating a big enough dome to include the nearby weapons, which he lifts and then scatters throughout the room. There’s a soft gasp when his dome falls to show knives and staffs and axes spread out across the floor, and he shrugs. “But with my smaller, moving dome, this wouldn’t be possible.”
“That’s a very interesting ability,” Namjoon says. “When you’re moving objects, is it like telekinesis? Or did you physically move those objects, one by one?”
Jimin has always just done it without understanding the basis behind it. Just like he used to do when moving through doors or walls. “I’m not sure,” he admits. “I don’t think I’m moving them one by one, but my body is malleable when I’m in that state. It’s like I become darkness, which allows me to do things differently than when I’m not in my dome.”
“So you’re changing the composition of your body?”
Jimin has never thought about it like that. “Um…”
“That’s what I thought once too,” Hoseok pipes up. “When we trained a while back, he was able to move through doors as long as he was in his dome. But now…”
He looks at Jimin, who shifts uncomfortably, feeling like he’s actually taken steps back since coming here. “I can’t do it anymore. If I do, I’d absorb the materials of the door.”
Seokjin frowns. “But why?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out,” Hoseok says. Jimin just shrugs. He can’t understand his power any more than they can.
“Is it a mental block, maybe?” Jungkook asks.
That seems the most likely case. Hoseok doesn’t seem so sure though. “I think it’s more than that. Honestly, Jimin, I have this feeling you haven’t been using your powers correctly at all.”
It’s the first time he’s ever said something like this to Jimin, so directly, and although his tone is factual, it’s grating to hear. Jimin scowls. “This is how it’s always been. Even before I knew what I was doing, it always manifested itself in the same way. I create a dome. I absorb light. I emit light. That’s the basis of it. Tae will tell you.”
All eyes turn to Taehyung. “Yeah, that’s how it was when we were kids,” he confirms.
“But it’s not just light now,” Hoseok says, pondering out loud. “It’s other things too. Maybe… Maybe your power is growing then?”
Jimin feels himself grow cold. Yes, it used to be that he would absorb light and emit it. But after he was brought to the facility? They poked and prodded at him, and one day he got burned. Was that an ability he was always meant to have? Or was it… was it because of them? Did they do this to him?
Maybe there will never be a way to use his powers properly, because they were never normal powers to begin with.
They can’t help him. He can’t be helped. All that hope for nothing. What was he thinking, that this little demonstration might actually help him get a handle on his powers? Stupid, he was stupid to think it would lead anywhere. Hoseok is wrong. He’s not growing; he’s getting worse.
“One day I’ll absorb something my body can’t handle and that’ll be it.”
He doesn’t mean to say it out loud. It just crossed his mind and his lips started moving before he could stop them.
Hoseok is already denying it. “That’s not going to happen.”
“Of course it is!” Jimin counters, angry at the false optimism. “This is my limit. If I keep pushing it, it- it’s—”
But oh, maybe it’s his own fault. Maybe it’s because he left—ran away. Maybe they had a plan, to experiment on him enough so he could take it, so fire and ice and water would have nothing on him. Maybe he doomed himself by leaving. Maybe he was never meant to be able to survive on his own.
Is that why it keeps hurting him? And it’s only getting worse, isn’t it? Maybe this was their plan all along—make him rely on them, so one day he would have to go back.
But there’s nowhere to return to.
You burned it to the ground, remember?
He can feel himself falling into a pit of despair. It’s like the ground is vanishing from beneath his feet. Suddenly, he’s back there, sucking the fire into his body, none the wiser, doing it because he was told to, listening to instructions like the good boy he tried to be, for her, for her, like she wasn’t the one who brought him there, like she wasn’t the one trying to break him.
I know it hurts, but bear with it. You did so well today, my son.
He’s supposed to go after her. With his powers, he always figured it was just a matter of finding her. Once he did, the rest would be easy. But if his powers are regressing, if they’re going to hurt him more and more, then what is he supposed to do? How is he supposed to fight her?
He feels ten years old again, her arms tight around him, muttering like she was his saviour, even though his father’s blood was on her hands.
“There must be something we’re missing,” Seokjin is saying. “Sometimes powers are deceiving, and what seems like one thing might be another.”
“It’s something to do with materials and body composition, I’m sure of it,” Namjoon says. “Why else can he absorb those things in the first place? Absorb light, become darkness… I wonder…”
“Maybe it’s a matter of manipulating the materials properly?” Jungkook suggests. “So it doesn’t hurt him?”
They’re talking like it’s nothing. Like this is just another mystery to unravel. They don’t understand. His powers are broken. He’s broken. She’s going to get away, and he’s going to die before he finds her.
He needs to find her. Find her now. Find her before it’s too late.
Go— Go now. Go, Jimin, leave this place. Find her.
Find her.
Find me.
“Jimin—”
It’s Taehyung’s voice that gets cut off as Jimin plunges the world into darkness. All sounds fade, like that got sucked away too. He thinks he’s done that before, once. Doesn’t dwell on it for too long, because he has to go. He has to find her. Find her and— and…
Not even a second has passed in the dome when Taehyung enters. Invades it, more like. Preventing him from moving. The perfect counter to his powers.
But Jimin is desperate, frantic. Nothing else seems to matter except finding her before it’s too late. He needs to find a way to run from here, but Taehyung’s powers will hurt him. It will overload him if he tries to absorb his light, and he’ll pass out just like he did before.
Suddenly, the words the others were saying hit him.
Sometimes powers are deceiving, and what seems like one thing might be another.
Absorb light, become darkness… I wonder…
Maybe it’s a matter of manipulating the materials properly?
He recalls a singular moment, in a dank motel room, hungover and upset, when it felt like his body had become nothing, and he floated like he would in his dome except there was no dome, just his surroundings, a wavering form, and complete and utter weightlessness.
If he was metaphorically closing a hand before, now he’s turning it, shifting palm up to palm down and turning it on its head. For a second it’s like he’s trapped, caught in a strange non-reality between the dome and normalcy. And then it—
Shifts.
Dark becomes light and he becomes—
Nothing.
No— not nothing. He’s still here, like he was always still there, in the dome. He can… move, floating from one corner of the room to another in an instant. He can… lift things, a sword here, an axe there, as if he’s lifting them in his hands except his hands are at opposite ends of the room. Being able to see those things moving in the air, knowing he’s doing it but not understanding how, it’s terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.
Is this… his power?
He stares at the door, once a friend now an enemy, and thinks how the way he is, passing through it would be so easy. Thinks to do it, but before he can, that hand is turning palm side up again, as if held back by a rubber band; his current strength over it is limited; he can only remain in this form for so long.
The drop back into his body is disorienting. One second he’s everywhere and nowhere and the next he’s materialising by the door. Suddenly he’s heavy, too heavy, and he can’t hold himself up. He collapses in a heap, groaning, and that’s when all sound returns too, ringing in his ears but not making any sense.
They’re all around him, probably concerned, but he can’t even lift his head to look at them. They try to help, they do. Namjoon turns him on his back and Seokjin checks his pulse and the others say things to him, trying to get him to speak except everything is heavy, heavy, heavy.
Things do come back, bit by bit. He doesn’t think long has passed, though disoriented as he is, it feels like ages. The weight of his body becomes familiar. The indiscernible voices gain clarity. As if the last five minutes didn’t happen, he sits up all on his own; no light bleeds from his pores. It’s just him, it’s just…
“I- I think…” Everyone falls silent when he speaks. “I think I just discovered something else my powers can do.”
All that despairing, believing he was running out of time, suddenly it seems so far away. He almost broke down for nothing. But then, if he hadn’t, perhaps he never would have discovered this.
This power… This is a power that can crush her, once and for all.
🔥
When he hears what it looked like to the others, a thrill shoots down Jimin’s spine. This is the kind of breakthrough the scientists at the facility would have killed for. They’re all sitting in a sort of cluttered circle on the floor, and Taehyung speaks first.
“I knew something was off. You were too quiet, and the last thing you said, you sounded panicked. I had a feeling you were going to make a dome, and then you did.”
“I thought then that we must have overwhelmed you or something with all the theorising,” Seokjin says. “I’m sorry about that.”
“Everything went dark and we couldn’t hear anything either, even after Tae lit up. We could all see him as well as you in the dome. But then…” Jungkook trails off, looking uncertain.
“To me,” Namjoon says, “it looked like you… turned into mist. You just… poof. One second you were there, shadowed by your dome but still there, and the next, you were gone and it was light again.”
Hoseok admits, “It was kind of terrifying. I thought you must have found a way to teleport even with Tae trying to stop you, except we still couldn’t hear anything, and…”
“The sword and the axe,” Jungkook says. He swallows, his eyes wide as he looks at Jimin.
“They suddenly floated. It’s like you were… telling us you were still here?” Namjoon guesses.
It’s Hoseok who asks the question they’re all probably thinking. “How did you do that?”
Jimin lifts his hand, palm up as he parses through this information. “When I was first learning to control my powers, they told me to visualise closing my fist.”
“They…?” Jungkook says.
“The scientists who looked after us.” That’s putting it far, far too nicely. “Just now, though,” he continues, “I visualised something else.”
He turns his palm over, facing down.
“But what are you actually doing when you do that?” Hoseok asks.
Jimin frowns. It’s still the same as it’s always been, even after discovering something new. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s like you all think. Something about manipulating materials… But it’s not something I’m trying to do. I’m just doing it.”
He stares at his palm, then turns it again, but making it look like it’s springing back into place instead of purposefully changing it. “But I couldn’t stay in that form for long. It flipped back before I could test the door thing.”
“My beast form used to have a time limit too,” Jungkook tells him. “You can train that though.”
That thrill sparks again, rushing head to toe. It’s like his earlier panic never existed. “Yeah… It’s something that can be trained.”
He imagines it, honing this new power of his so that he’s practically invincible. He’ll be able to get in anywhere, see everything, find her and get close and complete his mission before she even realises he’s there.
The back of his neck prickles, and he looks up to see Taehyung’s eyes on him. There’s curiosity there, perhaps even a little bit of narrow-eyed suspicion. Jimin knows his thoughts are safe from prying eyes, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel embarrassed for where they went.
Although, really, what does Taehyung expect? Jimin has been forthcoming about having another goal this whole time. That hasn’t changed; it won’t change, no matter the bubbling feelings he has for them. He shouldn’t be embarrassed, or ashamed. His leaving has always been inevitable.
“It’ll take time, you know,” Taehyung finally says, to which Jimin frowns. “Developing a new skill… You can’t rush it. If you do, it could backfire.”
The words are grating for some reason, like Taehyung is assuming Jimin doesn’t know that already. Like because he’s a hero, he just knows better. Well, Jimin never wanted to rush the development of his powers. He never had a choice in the matter.
Jimin scoffs in response. “I know that.”
“It’s just… I’m scared you’ll push too hard with it. You’ve been hurt before. I just don’t want you to hurt again.”
If only Jimin could hear the consideration behind those words, the sincerity behind Taehyung’s real concern. Right now, thinking about how his mission just got a whole lot easier, Jimin only hears an admonishment.
“Think I’d know that better than anyone, Tae. It’s not like I want my powers to hurt me either.”
“I know you don’t.”
“Do you?” When Taehyung can only blink, mouth slightly agape, Jimin goes on. “Because it sounds to me like you think I let it hurt me on purpose.”
“What? No, I—”
“As if I rushed it all because I wanted to be powerful or something. I didn’t choose my powers and I didn’t choose to be taken and I didn’t choose— any of it. I hate that my powers are like this.”
“Okay.” Taehyung has a hand out in front of him. The others seem tense, like they’re ready to spring into action if need be, like Jimin is a ticking time bomb any second from setting off. “I didn’t mean to say any of that. Of course… Of course you didn’t choose that. I’m sorry it came across like that.”
Jimin glares at him, then at the others, hating the rage that sweeps over him. But on top of that, he’s… hurt in a way he didn’t expect. “You’re always tiptoeing around me. Like if you say one wrong word, you think I’ll leave.”
“I mean—” Taehyung glances at the others, some wearing frowns, others shaking their heads in soft argument, but it seems they’ve all decided this is between Jimin and Taehyung. “Are we wrong to think that?”
No. Yes. Jimin doesn’t know. All he knows is that he hates this feeling, the lack of trust in those eyes, especially when he thought they had built so much of it. But none of them trust him, not really. They’re right not to, of course, and he knows he hasn’t given them any reason to think he’ll stay, but it still hurts.
“This breakthrough with your powers…” Taehyung continues slowly, carefully. “I’m just scared it’ll give you another reason to leave, and I– I don’t want you to leave, that’s all.”
“You can’t force me to stay.”
“I know I can’t—”
“I have things I have to do.”
“I know you think that, but, Jimin, you don’t have to… What I mean is, can’t you just… let it go?”
Jungkook wears a scowl. “Tae.”
Taehyung whips towards him. “Don’t tell me you don’t think the same as I do.”
“It’s Jimin’s choice.”
“And if he gets himself hurt? If he gets himself killed? Are you just going to let him waltz into who-knows-where? If he decides to go, you’re just gonna let him?”
Jungkook’s lips press together. Taehyung turns to Hoseok, then to Seokjin and Namjoon, his eyes wide and imploring. But no one says anything, either frozen in shock at the way the conversation is going or maybe something else. Jimin doesn’t know them well enough to know what their silence means.
Besides, Jimin has just had another thought, realised there’s a real reason for Taehyung’s fears, and frustration boils up inside him. “Oh, you’re afraid because you can’t stop me anymore,” Jimin says.
“No—”
“Yes. With this new power, your light has no effect on me. You’re angry because you can’t control me anymore.”
“It’s not about control—”
“But don’t you see that it is?! You want to keep me here. You want to force me to stay. You don’t get it. You don’t understand what– what they did to me. But even if you did… You don’t care, do you? You don’t want me to have the only thing that’s kept me going all these years. You expect me to just… let my demons go. Well, I can’t.”
Was Taehyung always so self righteous? So uptight? Or was that a result of his hero upbringing? Jimin feels the chasm between them grow wider. He thought maybe one day he would find a way to cross it. Now, he’s not sure that’s even a possibility.
“You don’t like what I’ve become, I get that,” Jimin says with a humourless laugh. “I’m not your scared clueless friend anymore, and you hate that. You wish I’d become that person again. You think you can fix me. It’s so… so fucking frustrating.”
Taehyung’s eyes are shiny, his lower lip wobbly. “I… Jimin, I…”
Jimin stands and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Just leave me alone, Tae.”
At that, Jimin storms out, shoving the door open so he can escape all the prying eyes. He sensed they wanted to get involved, to say something to help the situation, but a part of him is glad they didn’t.
If they had, maybe this chasm he feels with Taehyung would have grown to include all of them, and as much as Jimin fears these bonds he’s started to build, selfishly, he wants to hold onto them.
Grip them in his small hands as tight as he can, even if that means one day, he might break them from squeezing too tight.
Better have them as much as he’s able right now, rather than not at all.
Notes:
comments/kudos appreciated always <3
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