Chapter Text
⋆.ೃ࿔
There was a reason Jimin preferred Seoul over other cities.
It was loud. Restless.
Always shifting with the tide of strangers.
People who walked alone were almost always left that way. Neighbours only exchanged smiles when effort was made. Pedestrians brushed shoulders without acknowledgment. Only dogs and cats and rodents scurrying between drains were worth a second glance.
And that was what Jimin liked most, how easy it was to disappear. How no one asked, no one waited. The idea of loneliness rather melted in the noise, scattered among a million other lives.
Sleet slicked the pavement, turning the city streets into a treacherous path. Snow had fallen earlier in the afternoon, but hours of foot traffic had trampled it into a slushy mess. Every so often Jimin would skid along and have to catch himself from falling.
A street vendor’s voice rang out nearby, hawking hot fishcakes.
Jimin kept his head down, nearly disappearing beneath the brim of his beret. Warm breath pooled against the scarf snug around his neck. In his pocket, he felt his phone vibrate. It had been vibrating as he packed his bag and hurriedly left work, and it was still vibrating when he doubled back for it only to forget his gloves instead. Not that he had any intention of braving the cold with bare hands.
Besides, there was only one person who would be blowing up his phone like this.
He had promised Taehyung he would be at the tattoo parlour after work but after work was never a fixed time for Jimin. Some days, he kept regular office hours like anyone else. Other days, he didn’t finish until midnight. More than once, his day would stretch into an all-nighter. But that was the cost of working for a newspaper.
Jimin didn’t mind so much since it kept him occupied. Kept his mind busy, his body exhausted, until there was no room left for anything else. By the time he dragged himself home, there was only enough energy to eat whatever was easiest, shower off the day and collapse into bed.
Today wasn’t as bad as it could have been, but he knew he was late.
He picked up his pace, then broke into a jog to chase the last seconds of a green light at the crosswalk. The sudden heat had him breaking into a light sweat.
He had never been to this part of the city before, but it had a grungy, worn feel, as though it had aged faster. As though carrying a burden the pristine glass towers of downtown Seoul never knew. Grime smudged against old brick, clinging to the edges of flickering neon displays. He passed a Chinese noodle shop and nearly missed the faded pop-out sign of the place Taehyung had mentioned.
By the time he reached the door, the tips of his ears were starting to burn.
A bell chimed overhead just as warm air rushed to meet him.
He lingered just inside the doorway, breath shallow, fingers stiff as they left his pockets. His phone screen flickered. Messages and missed calls piled up in frantic succession, and as if to drive the point home, the time glared back at him: 8:13 PM.
Jimin glanced around.
Hard rap played on low volume and pulsed through the dimly lit space. The air smelled of something faintly sweet, maybe wood polish, maybe old incense. Water trickled from a fountain in the corner. An arrangement of orchids decorated the front desk but most importantly, there was no one around.
Jimin opened his text app to covert pictures of an attractive face and a slew of emojis. Amidst them were a litany of where are you’s and when will you get here’s. He scrolled all the way to the end.
I’m here.
In seconds, the textbox was dotted with speech bubbles.
FINALLY!!! I’M SWEATING MY BALLS OFF. GET HERE RIGHT NOW>>> HE’S SO HOT JIMIN I’M LOSING MY MIND
Also, why didn’t you stop me??? Tattoos HURT.
Jimin’s fingers hovered over his phone, a small smile playing at his lips. He was about to reply when a voice cut through the quiet.
“We close at nine. It’s too late for an appointment today.”
He looked up and the air snagged sharp and sudden in the hollow of his throat. It ballooned painfully until it felt like a rock with edges too sharp to swallow.
It had been years.
Nine, to be exact.
But time had moved strangely between then and now, crashing like a storm yet pooling like a stagnant lake. It had altered Jimin in ways he couldn’t begin to name. But Jeon Jungkook was still the same.
The same dark eyes. The same mole beneath his lip. The same faint hollow of a dimple, flickering in and out of existence.
Jimin would know that face anywhere.
And just as well, he’d grown into himself. He was taller. Sturdier. A piercing glinted at his lip and tattoos wove up his arm, disappearing beneath the folded cuff of a denim overshirt. His jaw was sharper now, cut from stone, and his hair brushed against his nape in dark waves. All of a sudden, Jimin felt dizzy.
He had always known Jungkook would be handsome. He just hadn’t expected this.
In truth, he hadn’t expected to see Jungkook again at all.
His first instinct was to leave.
But Jungkook didn’t look shocked or even remotely surprised, and that stopped Jimin cold.
Did Jungkook not recognise him? It was possible. Jimin’s hair was blonde now, his frame leaner and he had lost all traces of baby fat that had clung to him till his late teens. And Jungkook—Jungkook would have met a thousand and more people in the last decade that Jimin was probably only a blip on his radar. Less even. A name buried under years of bigger, more important things.
After all, they had only shared a little over two years of high school together.
Even if, to Jimin, those months were inked so deep in his memory they felt destined to follow him into his next life.
And then his phone chimed with another text from Taehyung.
SCRATCH THAT. Just asked my hottie and he said you can’t come up here. Something about hygiene idk HELP ME good lorrrrrrrd
Wait for me please? There was another hottie I spied with my teeny tiny eyes earlier
Jimin decided he would try to test the waters. “I’m waiting for my friend.”
“Hm.” Jungkook lifted an eyebrow. “Interesting friend.”
Jimin had no idea what that meant, but he felt inclined to put in a good word for Taehyung. “It’s his first tattoo.” He paused hesitantly. “He’s very excited.”
“Of course. He’s in good hands. My colleague will take no more than half an hour. Have a seat while you wait.” Jungkook gestured to a settee against the wall.
It was stuffed with pillows. And Jungkook sounded professional, if not a little flippant and uninterested.
When Jimin turned around, Jungkook was scribbling something into a book and the words thank you died on his tongue. He cleared his throat softly, shifted his weight onto the balls of his feet. Let his gaze dart to Jungkook and away. Swallowed. And made his way to the chair.
It was as cosy as it looked and Jimin sank into the cushion. There was a lamp on the coffee table next to him that bathed the walls in a soft orange glow. And next to that there was a stand with an assortment of magazines, books and newspaper.
His mouth went dry when he spotted The Seoul Daily.
But it looked untouched. And the idea that Jungkook—or anyone here—would bother buying multiple copies was ridiculous. More likely, The Seoul Daily just sat there day after day, unread and collecting dust.
He wasn’t even sure what he was trying to convince himself of. It was clear that Jungkook didn’t recognise him, or he was doing a very good job of pretending not to for God knows what reason. And even then, it wasn’t like the name of a writer meant anything to most people.
He felt tired.
It was always like this with him. His mind was never calm. He would think and overthink and it was always a marathon in his head but it never amounted to anything in the end.
In the end, he leaned back and closed his eyes and felt his limbs grow heavier.
The flow of water.
The murmur of music.
The smell was jasmine, he remembered it now.
He remembered the flowers that his father grew in their dingy apartment and how they thrived with the barest of sunlight and he remembered pressing petals between the pages of his books and reading them at the bus stop and between lessons and at night under his blanket.
He remembered Jungkook asking about his book. He remembered lending it to him.
Colours weaved behind his eyelids and he staunched the memories before they could smother him. He didn’t want to think of his father. He didn’t want to think of school or Jungkook or everything that followed.
He was alone. In this big ugly world, he was alone.
⋆.ೃ࿔
Without realising, Jimin had fallen asleep. His eyes sprang open as he jolted upright.
His neck was wet. He loosened the scarf and haphazardly swiped the sweat that was already flowing like a river. His eyes flickered automatically to Jungkook. He was still behind the desk, though he seemed to be playing a game on his phone. His thumbs moved deftly and the device was turned sideways. Blue light reflected off his face and his knitted brows. When he bit the piercing on his lip, Jimin looked away.
He breathed out through his mouth and settled back into the chair.
How odd to fall asleep here, of all places. Nights weren’t friendly to him. At home, he would lie in bed till the wee hours, wishing, crying, sometimes praying desperately for sleep to come to him. Pills were expensive and he only took them when he had to be on his toes at work.
He glanced at Jungkook again and felt comforted that he probably hadn’t noticed Jimin dozing off like some ill-mannered person. Not that it mattered anyway, this was only a chance encounter. Before today, Jimin had never been to this part of the city. He wouldn’t come back and he and Jungkook would never meet again.
As he checked the time on his phone, he noticed the teacup on the table. That definitely hadn’t been there earlier.
“Excuse me,” Jimin called softly.
There was a lag in Jungkook’s response. He hummed, but his eyes only followed a few seconds later.
Jimin pointed towards the drink. “Is this…” What should he say? For me? How presumptuous.
“It’s chamomile tea.”
“Ah. Okay.”
“It was either that or coffee.”
“Yes.”
“Drink while it’s hot.”
Jimin felt his shoulders sag. “Did you make this?”
Somehow, Jungkook looked offended. The line of his jaw was arrogant, the curve of his lips almost a sneer. “We have more than one employee working here.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean—” Jimin blushed and looked down. He reached for the glass cup and felt its warmth seep through his hands. Jungkook’s gaze was burning holes into him. The smell was pleasant, the taste even more. The tea was light and warm and flowed like honey into his empty stomach. Jimin savoured it from the tip of his tongue to the back of his throat.
“It’s nice. Thank you.”
For a moment, Jimin might have thought Jungkook looked flustered if the idea wasn’t so absurd. Though he hesitated a little, then refocused on his game. “No need for thanks. We serve drinks to all our customers.”
But I’m not a customer, Jimin wanted to say. He swallowed that too, along with another sip of tea.
Not long after, voices rose from behind a screen partition and grew louder. Taehyung walked through, beaming when he spotted Jimin. “You’re here, you’re here! Come look at my tattoo!”
He called Jimin over, but it was he who rushed forward, tugging up his shirt to reveal his freshly inked waist. The tattoo was encased in saran wrap and smeared with cream, but even through it, Jimin could make out a whale and hearts and other delicate swirls, all in soft pastel shades.
He traced the design lightly with a fingertip, then looked up and smiled. “It’s beautiful.”
“Isn’t it? Seokjin-ssi did an amazing job, didn’t he?” Taehyung turned to the man who had followed him out, his voice brimming with excitement.
Jimin recognised him instantly. It was the same face from Taehyung’s flood of pictures. He was fair-skinned and broad-shouldered, with a natural warmth in his rosy cheeks. Handsome, Jimin thought. Pretty, even.
“Seokjin-ssi, I’ll recommend you to all my friends,” Taehyung declared.
“Of course you must,” Seokjin replied good-naturedly. “I wouldn’t have worked so hard otherwise.” He inclined his head at Jimin in a polite greeting before stepping behind the counter. Taehyung followed and they fell into a discussion about aftercare and touch-ups, but Jimin mostly tuned them out.
He finished his drink then rose, carrying his empty cup to the counter beside Taehyung.
“Thank you for the tea, it was delicious.”
Taehyung leaned in, peering into Jimin’s cup. “Wow, you guys really have top-tier service. But Seokjin-ssi, how come I didn’t get any tea?”
Jungkook picked up the saucer, setting it behind the desk with a dull thud. “We stocked up after you came in. Maybe next time.”
Seokjin laughed, clapping Jungkook on the back. “Yes, Taehyung-ssi, please do come again to experience our incredible selection of complimentary beverages.”
“We only have tea and coffee,” Jungkook muttered, somewhat annoyed.
“Only the finest tea and coffee, personally curated and served with the utmost care,” Seokjin said.
Jungkook shot him a glare.
Jimin pressed his hands together in front of him, willing away the heat creeping up his neck. But Taehyung took no notice and chatted away as he paid. Maybe it really was just Jimin overthinking again, reading into things that weren’t there.
When it was time to leave, Taehyung practically floated out the door. He didn’t seem to care for the cold at all, despite being woefully underdressed for it. The temperature had dropped and the air was crisp against Jimin’s skin. But the warmth of the tea still lingered in his chest and he didn’t bother buttoning his coat.
Taehyung grinned, looping his arm through Jimin’s as they walked.
“Do you like your tattoo that much?” Jimin asked.
“Obviously! I drew the design myself, you know? Although Seokjin-ssi made it a lot better. Isn’t he so handsome, Jimin?”
“He is.”
“He looks like a movie star. And he’s so funny and gentle!”
“You’re not falling in love again, are you?”
“You sound like my mother.”
“You fall in love too easily. And get your heart broken even faster.”
“Why were we put on this earth if not to love and live passionately?” Taehyung asked with a little sigh.
Jimin let his thoughts settle. “Does your tattoo hurt?”
“Oh god,” Taehyung whined. “I can’t even—it hurt so bad when he was using the needle. I think I finally understand what women go through during childbirth.”
Jimin let out a huff, a quiet little thing. “Silly Taehyung. A woman would skin you alive if she heard such a lousy comparison.”
They walked slowly along the sidewalk. Snow was beginning to fall again in swirling flakes.
“I can’t believe my mom managed to birth five whole kids.”
“I like your family,” Jimin replied affectionately.
“Then you should come over more often.”
They passed narrow alleyways and night cafés. The streets were coming to life as people filled the warm interiors. From here, the subway was only another 10-minute walk away.
“I can’t just barge in whenever I want—”
“The only way to come in is to barge in. I swear I want to move out so bad sometimes. You don’t know the struggle of trying to take a shit in the morning when there are nine other people and only two bathrooms.”
“So why don’t you?”
Taehyung hummed, then smiled. “You know I couldn’t.”
“So filial. And now you’re getting tattoos and everything.”
“It’s going to be a nightmare hiding this from my mom.”
“Is that regret I hear?”
“No way!” Taehyung spun too fast, nearly toppling over and taking Jimin down with him. Jimin laughed, steadying them both as their breath curled in misty plumes. “If nothing else, it was worth it just to see Seokjin-ssi’s handsome face.”
“You don’t even know if he has a partner.” Jimin tutted. “What if he’s married with kids?”
“Oh no! I forgot about that!” Taehyung kicked some hardened snow off the curb. “There’s only one way to go about this.”
“Forget about it?”
“Stalk his socials.”
Jimin shot him a mildly disapproving side-eye.
“And anyway,” Taehyung continued, undeterred, “If not him, the other tattoo artist was just as good looking, wasn’t he? I didn’t catch his name, but he had that vibe, you know? The sort of dark, mature cold oppa vibe. Very bad boy. Very hot.”
Jimin slowed his pace slightly, watching his feet take each step. “Mm. I think it was Jeon Jungkook.”
“Ah, that’s right. I remember seeing it on their Instagram page. Wait—so you talked to him? Is our prettier than a flower Jimin finally interested in someone?”
“I really don’t understand your logic.”
“Please,” Taehyung groaned, tightening his hold on Jimin’s arm. “Every time one of my friends meets you, they ask about you and I have to be the one to break it to them that you’re not in the market. In the five years I’ve known you, I don’t think you’ve had a single boyfriend or girlfriend, let alone learned their name on your own!”
“I’ve asked plenty of people their names before.”
“Pff, only when it’s work related.”
Fluorescent light fill the subway entrance as they reached the stairs. It was a comforting sound, the hum of the city shifting underground. They swiped their cards and descended. Although internally, Jimin’s heart drummed against his ribs.
“I thought he was the Kim Seokjin you mentioned and he just corrected me.”
“What do you mean? I literally sent you pictures of Kim Seokjin!”
“Well I didn’t look at them, did I? I was in a rush.”
“Ugh, fine. If even someone like Jeon Jungkook can’t catch your attention, are you seriously waiting for God to ask you out?”
Jimin rolled his eyes. “You better hurry. Your train’s coming in less than a minute.”
Taehyung glanced at the digital board and his eyes went wide. “Ah, shit—I don’t want to run. Text me when you get home, okay? Bye bye!”
Jimin waved him off before heading towards his own platform. Although it was a weeknight, there were still lots of people milling about. He leaned against a railing, letting his eyes roam over the crowd, picking out strangers and crafting stories for each of them.
The little girl with tangled hair and a backward shirt had probably gotten drenched at the playground for which she was scolded. The elegantly dressed woman in heels was hurrying to Namsan Tower, where her fiancé was waiting with a ring in his pocket. A man in a worn-out suit sat on a bench, staring at his phone. He had just quit his job on a whim and now he was struggling to come up with a viable excuse for his temperamental wife. A pair of students shared earphones, heads leaning close together. They were best friends, maybe, or two people pretending not to be in love.
The train arrived and Jimin stepped inside, slipping into a seat by the window. His reflection hovered over the glass, superimposed against the city rushing past. He watched the flickering lights, the shifting silhouettes, anything to quiet his thoughts.
Passengers drifted in and out, their voices fading into the drone of the tracks. Three stops from home, his phone buzzed.
Made it back.
Mom thought I was walking funny and tried to massage me and I was trying to get her not to anyways long story short she knows about the tattoo.
TT
Jimin smiled but didn’t reply.
He disembarked onto a nearly empty platform and pulled his earbuds in. The music softened the world around him, but the sound of his own footsteps still reached through.
He climbed the stairs, turned onto the familiar uphill road, past shuttered shops and pojangmacha stalls where small clusters of people huddled against the cold. The streetlights flickered unreliably. Complaints to the city council never seemed to change that.
By the time he reached his building, the air had settled into the deep stillness of late night. The elevator was long broken and forced him up six flights of stairs.
Inside, the cramped apartment pulsed with activity. He shared it with a family of four and a man a few years older than him. He politely declined the mother’s invitation to join them for dinner, slipping straight into his room. Though perhaps calling it a room was generous. It was more of a partitioned-off corner, just enough for his bed, a small closet, and a desk pressed against the foot of his mattress.
But the windows made up for it. He had four big beautiful ones. They framed the city like a painting. Beyond them, the world kept moving. A train rumbled past, loud enough to shake the glass. Jimin barely blinked. He sat on the edge of his bed, shoes still on, staring out at nothing in particular.
Some nights, the city felt like company. Other nights, it was just another reminder of how quiet everything else had become.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
my heart feels troubled—
my heart feels troubled for no reason.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Jungkook usually didn’t care about customers who weren’t his. He wasn’t much for small talk either, especially not with the ones who came in clearly trying to flirt. But Seokjin’s new client was talking a mile a minute and loud enough that ignoring him was impossible.
Somewhere between his increasingly bizarre tattoo ideas, he mentioned a best friend who would be dropping by to keep him company.
Then he said the name.
Park Jimin.
Jungkook felt the ground beneath him tilt.
Surely, there was more than one Park Jimin in Seoul. Surely, this wasn’t the same Jimin that Jungkook had known. The one he’d lost.
Suddenly, Jungkook found himself busy with the kind of pointless tasks only a man on a mission could justify. He wiped down an already spotless counter, meticulously rearranged ink bottles that didn’t need rearranging and hovered so blatantly that Seokjin shot him several progressively judgmental looks over his client’s shoulder.
But it paid off. Because when the client’s phone lit up, Jungkook caught a glimpse of the screen.
And there it was. A picture of the client and Jimin.
His Jimin.
Jungkook hadn’t realized how restless he was until then. His hands itched with the need to move, his legs bounced as he stole glances at the clock, at the front door, at the grey sky that refused to warm up. When would he come? How would he look? Would he even recognise Jungkook? Did he—God forbid—have a boyfriend? Was he married?
The thought nearly drove him insane.
He stepped out with cigarette in hand to let the cold air do its worst. He inhaled and exhaled, deeper and deeper until his lungs burned, until he thought he’d steadied himself. But the joke was on him because when he walked back in, Jimin was there.
It had been so awfully long. The last time, Jungkook had only dared to watch from a distance, vanishing before he could be noticed. And now Jimin was close enough to touch.
He looked the same. He looked different.
Thinner than he remembered. Exhausted-looking. His hair was a fluffy blonde. His cheeks were less full, his mouth still petulantly soft. There were dark smudges beneath his eyes and his wrists were bony from where they peeked out beneath his coat sleeves.
Jungkook hardly remembered what he was saying to him. One moment, Jimin was in front of him, and the next, he had sunk into the chair and his body had gone boneless.
Jungkook took a step closer.
Another.
He was still so beautiful.
Then, without thinking, he pulled out his phone.
What’s that tea you always drink? Do you have some here?
He was hunched over, eyes glued to the screen as if sheer determination could summon a reply. Just as he was about to call Seokjin and demand an answer, his phone lit up.
??? Chamomile. And yes. Don’t text while I’m with a client.
I’m taking some.
????? You don’t drink tea though
Please can I take some?
Why?
Are you really going to be stingy like this?
Boyyy… by all means, help yourself to my premium chamomile. It’s not like it cost a fortune or anything :/
Jungkook pocketed his phone and went to make the tea.