Chapter Text
Jimin’s Apartment,
Two Years After The Breakup
Jimin’s fingers traced the rim of his wine glass, his mind drifting as his boyfriend, Minho, talked about his upcoming business trip.
"You’ll be okay without me for a week, right?" Minho teased, squeezing Jimin’s hand.
Jimin smiled. "Of course."
Minho was perfect. Thoughtful. Safe. He never raised his voice, never stormed out in the rain, never looked at Jimin with that wild, desperate intensity that used to make his stomach flip.
Like Jeongguk did.
Jimin’s chest tightened at the thought.
It had been two years since their breakup. Two years since Jeongguk had left his apartment in the middle of the night, slamming the door so hard the frame shook. Two years since Jimin had cried himself to sleep, only to wake up to a text from Jeongguk, sent by Seojun:
"hey, it’s seojun. jeongguk’s here. he’s fine."
Jimin had known then. Jeongguk had gone to Seojun’s. Seojun, who had always looked at Jeongguk a little too long, a little too soft, just to hurt him. And it had worked.
That was the last straw.
Now, Minho was everything Jeongguk wasn’t. Stable. Predictable. Boring, a voice in Jimin’s head whispered.
He shook it away.
The rain fell in heavy sheets as Jimin hurried down the sidewalk, cursing himself for forgetting his umbrella. He entered the nearest café, shaking water from his hair.
And froze.
There, at a corner table, sat Jeongguk.
Older. Broader. His once-short hair was longer now, his arm with a full tattoo sleeve, but his eyes… Oh, his eyes were the same. Dark and burning.
Jeongguk looked up, and time stopped.
"Jimin.” His name on Jeongguk’s lips sent a shiver down his spine.
"Jeongguk," Jimin managed, voice barely above a whisper.
Jeongguk’s gaze flickered over him, lingering on the unfamiliar bracelet around Jimin’s wrist, a gift from Minho, certainly. His jaw tightened.
"You look good," Jeongguk said, but his voice was rough, like the words were being dragged out of him.
"You too.” Jimin’s heart pounded.
Silence stretched between them, thick with everything unsaid. Then, Jeongguk smirked; that infuriating, beautiful smirk and asked:
"Happy?" Jimin’s breath caught. Because the truth was, he was happy. But happiness had never felt like this, like fire, like drowning, like the way Jeongguk used to kiss him like he was starving.
"Yeah," Jimin lied. "I am."
“Good.” Jeongguk’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. And just like that, Jimin remembered. Not that he could ever forget. The way they loved had been messy, loud, destructive.
But god, he missed it.
The coffee shop was too warm, the air thick with the scent of roasted coffee and something sweet; vanilla, maybe. Or nostalgia.
Jimin shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his fingers tapping against the ceramic mug. He hadn’t planned on staying. He shouldn’t have stayed. But Jeongguk had gestured to the empty chair across from him, and Jimin’s body moved before his mind could protest.
"So," Jeongguk said, swirling his iced americano. "How’s the dancing?"
Jimin blinked. He remembers.
Ballet had always been his dream, something Jeongguk used to tease him about, "You move like you’re made of air, hyung. It’s unfair." before pulling him into a bruising kiss.
"It’s good," Jimin said softly. "I’m with my own dance studio now."
“Of course you are." Jeongguk’s lips quirked. There was no bitterness in his voice, just pride. "I always knew you’d make it."
Jimin’s chest ached.
"And your restaurant?" he asked, because he also remembered. Jeongguk had talked about opening his own place for years, scribbling recipes on napkins and forcing Jimin to taste-test his experiments; some delicious, some disastrous. But always made with curiosity, hope and love. So much love.
Jeongguk’s eyes lit up, just a little.
"It’s doing well. Got a write-up in a culinary magazine last month."
"Jeon Jeongguk, Seoul’s hottest young chef," Jimin mused, echoing the headline he’d definitely not saved on his phone.
Jeongguk laughed, low and rough, and for a second, it was like no time had passed at all.
Then, silence.
The kind that pressed between them, heavy with all the things they weren’t saying. Do you ever think about me? Do you still love me? Why did we ruin us?
Jeongguk’s phone buzzed on the table. A notification lit up the screen:
seojun
are u free tonight?
Jimin’s stomach dropped. Jeongguk flipped the phone over, but it was too late.
"Still friends with Seojun, huh?" Jimin asked lightly, even as his nails dug into his palms. He knows nothing had happened between them back then, but it still hurts.
Jeongguk’s jaw tightened. "Sometimes."
Sometimes. Jimin knew what that meant. Knew the way Jeongguk’s voice got darker when he was lying. Knew that sometimes meant nights where Jeongguk didn’t want to be alone, either for just talking or… Something else. Jimin didn’t want to think about it.
Just like he used to do with me. He thought anyway.
Jeongguk exhaled sharply. "It’s not-"
"It’s okay, don’t worry." Jimin interrupted. The words tasted like ash.
Jeongguk’s eyes burned into him. Another silence.
Then, Jeongguk leaned forward, voice dropping to a whisper. "Does he make you happy? Your… guy."
Jimin swallowed. "Yes."
"Good." Jeongguk’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. "That’s all I ever wanted for you."
Liar.
Jeongguk wanted him. Wanted him with a possessiveness that bordered on obsession, wanted him even when they were tearing each other apart. And Jimin? Jimin had loved him for it, so much.
Jimin’s apartment,
Two years ago
Jeongguk’s fist slammed against the counter, sending a half-empty beer bottle rattling.
"You’re lying to me," he snarled.
Jimin scoffed, crossing his arms. "Oh, here we go again. The great Jeon Jeongguk, the one who says who I’m allowed to breathe around."
Jeongguk’s eyes were black with fury. "I saw the way he touched you."
"Who, Jisung?" Jimin threw his hands up. "He’s my dance partner, you psycho! It’s called choreography!"
"Bullshit!" Jeongguk’s voice cracked. "He had his hands all over you-"
"We were rehearsing!" Jimin’s own temper flared. "Or do you want me to quit dancing too? Would that make you happy? Should I just sit at home and wait for you like some fucking-"
"I trust you!" Jeongguk roared. "It’s him I don’t trust!"
Jimin laughed, sharp and bitter. "Right. Because everyone wants me, right? That’s your excuse every time? News flash, Jeongguk, not everything is about you and not everything you think is true!"
Jeongguk flinched like he’d been struck.
Silence was heavy and suffocating.
"You know what?" Jimin’s voice dropped to a whisper. "I’m done. I’m so done with you." Jeongguk’s breath hitched.
"Jimin-"
"No. You don’t get to do this every time. You don’t get to accuse me of shit just because you’re insecure!"
Jeongguk’s face twisted. "I’m not-"
"You are!" Jimin’s voice broke. "And I can’t, I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep proving myself every day to you like I’m on trial!"
Thunder shook the apartment. Jeongguk’s hands trembled.
"So what? You’re just gonna run to him now?"
Jimin froze. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
Jeongguk’s jaw clenched. "You know exactly what it means."
"No. Say it." Jimin stepped closer, eyes blazing. "Say it to my face."
Jeongguk didn’t back down. "You like it. The way he looks at you. The way everyone looks at you."
Jimin’s breath came out in sharp bursts. "You’re fucking unbelievable."
"Am I wrong?"
"YES!" Jimin screamed. "God, is that really what you think of me? That I’m just some, some attention whore?"
Jeongguk paled. "That’s not what I-“
"Get out." Jimin’s voice was ice. Jeongguk stilled.
"...What?"
"Get. Out." Jimin pointed to the door. "I don’t want to look at you right now."
He said nothing else and Jeongguk grabbed his jacket and left. The door slammed so hard the picture frames rattled. Jimin stood there, shaking, until the sound of Jeongguk’s motorcycle faded into the storm.
The Café,
Present Day
Jeongguk’s fingers tightened around his coffee cup. "We were so fucking toxic."
Jimin didn’t look at him. "Yeah. We were."
A pause.
"Do you ever miss it?" Jeongguk asked quietly. Jimin’s breath caught. The way Jeongguk kissed him after a fight; desperate, needy, demanding. Like he was trying to carve himself into Jimin’s skin. The way they’d fall into bed, all teeth and tears, whispering I hate you, I love you, don’t leave me.
"No, not really." Jimin lied. Jeongguk smiled, sad and knowing.
The Bar,
The Day Of The Fight
Rain still pours outside, the neon glow of a dive bar reflecting in the puddles as Jeongguk stumbles in, soaked and furious. His phone buzzes; Jimin’s name flashes, but he ignores it. He’s not ready. Not yet.
Jeongguk slammed back his fourth shot of soju, the burn doing nothing to dull the ache in his chest.
"Fuck," he muttered, rubbing his face. The bartender eyed him.
"You good, man?"
"Never better." Jeongguk laughed bitterly.
His phone lit up again. Jimin. He swiped it away.
Jeongguk didn’t remember calling Seojun, his friend from the gym. Didn’t remember the cab ride. But suddenly, he was standing in Seojun’s doorway, dripping onto the hardwood, his vision blurry.
"Holy shit," Seojun said, grabbing his arm. "You’re soaked."
"Can I… stay here tonight?"
Seojun hesitated. Then sighed. "Yeah. Come in."
Jeongguk sat on the couch, head in his hands. Seojun handed him a towel and a glass of water.
"Jimin?" Seojun asked.
Jeongguk’s throat tightened. "Yeah."
"What happened?"
"We fucking ended," Jeongguk slurred. "I-I said shit. He said shit. I left. I think time is for real."
Seojun studied him. "You love him."
Jeongguk didn’t answer.
He didn’t have to.
"You should go back," Seojun said quietly, not sincere. Jeongguk didn’t realize. "Talk to him."
"Not yet," Jeongguk muttered. "Not when I’m like this."
Seojun exhaled. "Fine. But you’re sleeping on the couch."
Jeongguk nodded, already half-passed out. Seojun picked up Jeongguk’s phone, scrolling to Jimin’s contact. He typed:
”hey, it’s seojun. jeongguk’s here. he’s fine.”
A pause. That was his chance, he thought. Then, with a smirk, he added:
“don’t worry. i know how to take care of him”
He hit send.
Jeongguk woke up to a pounding headache and the smell of coffee. Seojun tossed him a painkiller.
"You’re a mess," Seojun said.
Jeongguk groaned. "Tell me something I don’t know."
Seojun hesitated. "I texted Jimin last night."
Jeongguk froze. "What did you say?"
"Just that you were here."
Jeongguk’s stomach dropped. "Did you-"
"I didn’t lie," Seojun said, shrugging. "But I didn’t exactly clarify, either."
Jeongguk’s blood ran cold.
"You’re an asshole," he hissed, scrambling for his phone. Too late.
Jimin’s Apartment,
One Day After The Fight
Jeongguk stood outside Jimin’s door, heart racing. He’d sobered up. He was ready to apologize. To beg.
He knocked. The door swung open.
Jimin stood there, eyes red-rimmed, face stone-cold.
"Baby-" Jeongguk started.
"Did you sleep with him?" Jimin’s voice was deadly quiet. Jimin knew Jeongguk and Seojun used to hook up before they got together, when Jimin had a massive unrequited love on Jeongguk, or so he thought at the time.
Jeongguk’s stomach twisted. "No! God, no!"
"Then why did he text me this?" Jimin shoved his phone in Jeongguk’s face.
Jeongguk’s blood turned to ice. "It’s not- he’s messing with you-"
Jimin laughed, hollow. "Right. Just like I was messing with you about Jisung, huh?"
Jeongguk flinched.
"You accused me," Jimin whispered, voice breaking. "And then you ran to the one person you knew would hurt me."
"I didn’t-"
"We’re done." Jimin said.
”Please, Jimin. I’m sorry. Nothing happened!”
”Leave.”
And this time, Jeongguk had no fight left in him.
The Café,
Present Day
Jeongguk stared into his coffee. "I should’ve fought harder."
Jimin’s fingers tightened around his cup. "We weren’t good for each other. Would it have changed anything?"
Jeongguk looked up, eyes raw. "I don’t know." He knew it wouldn’t.
"I still think about that night," Jimin admitted softly.
Jeongguk’s breath caught. "Me too. A lot."
Taehyung’s Apartment,
One Day After The Fight
Jeongguk sat on the floor, head in his hands, as Taehyung paced like a caged animal.
"You idiot," Taehyung hissed.
"You went to Seojun’s? After that fight? Are you trying to destroy your relationship?"
Jeongguk’s voice was raw. "I didn’t sleep with him-"
“Doesn’t matter!” Taehyung exploded. “Jimin hates Seojun! You knew that!”
Yoongi, who was there too, quieter but no less furious, leaned against the wall. "You fucked up."
Jeongguk’s hands shook. "I know."
"Do you want to fix this?" Yoongi asked.
Jeongguk looked up, eyes red. "More than anything."
Taehyung threw his hands up. "Then why the hell did you leave? Why didn’t you just talk to him?"
Jeongguk’s voice cracked. "I accused him of cheating, and then went to the one person who would make him feel insecure. Don’t you see? I always make it worse!"
Silence.
Yoongi sighed. "You need to talk to Jimin. Properly."
Jeongguk swallowed hard. "What if he won’t listen?"
Taehyung’s expression softened, just a little. "Then you fight for him."
Seokjin’s Apartment,
One Day After The Fight
Jimin sat curled up on the couch, wrapped in one of Seokjin’s oversized sweaters, staring blankly at the TV.
Hoseok rubbed his back. "Do you want us to kill him?"
Jimin let out a weak laugh. "Tempting."
Namjoon sighed. "Jimin-ah… are you sure this is it?"
Jimin’s fingers dug into the fabric of the sweater. "I can’t do this anymore, hyung. The fights, the jealousy, the mistrust- it’s killing me. Us."
Seokjin sat beside him, voice gentle. "Do you still love him?"
Jimin didn’t answer.
He didn’t have to.
Jimin’s Apartment,
Three Days After The Fight.
Jeongguk stood outside Jimin’s door again, this time sober, this time terrified. He knocked.
Jimin opened the door, eyes hollow. "What?"
Jeongguk’s throat tightened. "I’m sorry."
"For what? For accusing me? For running to Seojun? For breaking us?"
"For everything." Jeongguk’s voice was low, barely a whisper, full of regret.
Jimin looked at him. He was tired.
"It’s too late," Jimin whispered.
Jeongguk’s heart shattered. "Jimin, baby-"
"I can’t," Jimin said, voice breaking. "We were together for a year, we fight every single week. We can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep wondering when the next fight will happen, when you’ll leave again and go to someone you know-"
"I won’t-"
"You will," Jimin said, tears spilling over. "Because that’s who we are, Jeongguk. We hurt each other."
Jeongguk reached for him. "Let me fix this-"
Jimin stepped back. "I’m sorry but there’s nothing left to fix."
And with that, he closed the door, breaking Jeongguk’s heart and his own.
Jeongguk’s Apartment,
A Month After The Breakup
The TV flickered in the dark, some late-night infomercial playing to an audience of one. Jeongguk sat on the floor, back against the couch, a half-finished bottle of soju in his hand. His phone buzzed, another notification from someone who wasn’t Jimin. He ignored it.
His eyes drifted to the shelf across the room. Jimin’s favorite mug. The stupid plushie he’d won for him at a carnival. A ballet picture, framed from Jimin’s first major performance.
All still there. All untouched.
"Fuck," he muttered, tipping his head back. He should throw them out.
He never would.
Jeongguk didn’t do relationships anymore. He did distractions.
Pretty faces in dimly lit bars, soft hands that didn’t feel like Jimin’s, lips that tasted like cheap liquor instead of home.
He’d bring them back to his apartment, let them stay just long enough to forget the one who should be there with him. He would kiss them on the couch, knock over the cushions. Take them to his room, fuck them desperately, hiding his face on their shoulder, almost crying as he realizes none of them felt like Jimin. He would do it anyway.
And then he’d wake up at 4 AM, staring at the ceiling, wondering why his chest still ached.
"You can stay if you want," he’d lie, already reaching for his phone, opening the Uber app.
And as if they knew they were just a distraction, they never stayed.
One night, Jeongguk almost called. He was drunk. Really drunk.
His thumb hovered over Jimin’s contact, the screen blurry through his tears.
"Just one call," he slurred to no one. "Just to hear his voice."
He didn’t press it. He wanted to.
He couldn’t.
Instead, he stumbled to the kitchen, pulled out a packet of strawberry milk, Jimin’s favorite, and drank it in one gulp. It tasted like a open wound, like regret.
The Next Day
"You’re a fucking mess," Taehyung said, kicking a pile of laundry off the couch.
Jeongguk didn’t look up from his phone. "Not in the mood, hyung."
Taehyung snatched the phone away. "When was the last time you washed these sheets?"
Jeongguk’s jaw clenched. "They still smell like him."
Taehyung’s face softened. "Jeongguk-ah… you have to let him go."
Jeongguk laughed, hollow. "It’s Jimin. I can’t."
The Café,
Present Day
Jeongguk’s fingers traced the rim of his cup. "I kept your mug."
Jimin froze. "What?"
"The one with the stupid cat face," Jeongguk said, voice rough. "Couldn’t bring myself to get rid of it."
Jimin’s breath hitched. "Jeongguk-"
"I keep it in the counter, just in case. Kept a lot of things," Jeongguk admitted, eyes burning. "Like a fucking idiot."
For a minute, Jimin didn’t replied.
"Me too," Jimin whispered.
Jeongguk looked up, heart pounding with blind hope. "What?"
Jimin’s fingers tightened around his own cup. "Your hoodie. The black one. I… still sleep in it sometimes."
Jeongguk’s chest ached. "Fuck," he breathed.
Jimin smiled, sad. "Yeah."
Jimin’s Apartment,
Three Months After The Breakup
“You should go,” Hoseok said, nudging Jimin’s foot with his own. “He’s nice. And hot. And not emotionally unstable.”
Jimin rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. Minho was nice. He was a fellow dancer, reliable, with a smile that didn’t make Jimin’s stomach twist the way a certain someone’s used to.
“Fine,” Jimin muttered. “One date.”
Hoseok grinned. “That’s the spirit.”
Jimin didn’t mention that he’d spent the night before curled up in Jeongguk’s old hoodie, breathing in the fading scent of his cologne.
Minho was perfect. He held the door open. He asked about Jimin’s rehearsals. He didn’t once raise his voice or accuse him of anything. It should’ve been refreshing.
Instead, it just felt… wrong.
“You’re quiet,” Minho observed, sipping his wine.
Jimin forced a smile. “Long week.”
Minho nodded, understanding. “I get it. But… I’m glad you said yes.”
Jimin’s chest tightened. Jeongguk never said things like that. Jeongguk growled them, like the words were being ripped out of him. Jeongguk fought, kissed, burned.
“Jimin?”
Jimin blinked. “Hm?”
Minho tilted his head. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Jimin lied. “Just tired.”
The date was nice. Minho walked him to his door. “I had a great time,” he said softly.
Jimin nodded. “Me too.”
He hadn’t.
Minho leaned in. Jimin let him.
The kiss was… fine. Nice, even. Soft. Careful.
Nothing like the way Jeongguk used to kiss him, like he was starving, like he’d die if he didn’t devour him.
When Minho pulled away, Jimin’s lips tingled.
But his heart? Silent.
Jimin stared at the ceiling, Minho’s number saved in his phone, the taste of his lips still faint on his mouth.
He should’ve felt something. Anything.
Instead, all he could think about was the way Jeongguk used to poke his tongue against his cheek when he was frustrated or jealous, the way he’d whisper “mine” against his skin like a prayer.
His phone buzzed.
Minho
I had a great night
Can I take you out again next week?
jimin
hey, sure
i would like that a lot
He rolled over, pulled Jeongguk’s hoodie over his head and tried not to cry.
The Café,
Present Day
Jeongguk’s voice was rough. “Are you happy with him?”
Jimin stared at his coffee. “He’s good to me.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Jimin’s fingers trembled. “I’m supposed to be.”
Jeongguk’s breath hitched. “Jimin-”
“Don’t,” Jimin whispered. “Just… don’t.”
Seokjin’s Living Room,
Five Months After The Breakup
Hoseok shuffled the deck of cards with unnecessary aggression.
“So,” he said, voice too light. “Who wants to go first?”
Taehyung, sprawled on the floor, didn’t look up from his phone. “Jimin just posted a story. He’s at that bar Jeongguk used to take him to.”
Yoongi sighed. “For fuck’s sake.”
Namjoon rubbed his temples. “And Jeongguk?”
“Texted me an hour ago asking if Jimin’s ‘seeing anyone.’ Like he doesn’t already stalk Minho’s Instagram every day.” Seokjin snorted.
Taehyung groaned. “We need to do something.”
Hoseok slammed down the cards. “Okay. Let’s review.”
He held up a finger. “Jeongguk still has Jimin’s toothbrush in his bathroom.”
Another finger. “Jimin wears Jeongguk’s hoodie weekly.”
Another. “Jeongguk got drunk last week and cried to Yoongi about Jimin’s ballet recital.”
Yoongi grimaced. “It was The Nutcracker. He sobbed through the entire second act.”
Namjoon added, “And Jimin ‘accidentally’ liked Jeongguk’s two-year-old photo last month.”
Taehyung threw his hands up. “They’re disastrous.”
Seokjin crossed his arms. “Do we force them to talk?”
“No,” Yoongi said immediately. “They’ll just scream at each other and make it worse.”
Hoseok groaned. “Do we lock them in a room?”
Namjoon, ever the voice of reason, sighed. “They’re adults. They need to figure this out themselves.”
Taehyung flopped onto his back. “They won’t, though. They’re both too stubborn.”
A heavy silence. No one wanted to say anything.
“We have to do something,” Seokjin insisted. “They’re miserable. They need to move on!”
Yoongi rubbed his eyes. “What if they’re supposed to be together?”
Hoseok blinked. “What?”
“Hear me out,” Yoongi said. “Yeah, they were toxic. But what if they just needed time? To grow up? To fix themselves?”
Namjoon frowned. “You think they’re better together?”
Taehyung sat up. “I do. They fought about stupid shit all the time but everyone knows how they look at each other as if they’re the last human on earth.”
Seokjin groaned. “Oh god, they’re soulmates, aren’t they?”
Hoseok buried his face in his hands. “We’re never getting rid of this drama.”
Taehyung grinned after a moment. “Okay. New plan.” He leaned forward. “We stop trying to keep them apart. We stop pretending they’re over it.”
Hoseok raised a brow. “And?”
“And we remind them,” Taehyung said, eyes glinting. “Of what they’re missing.”
Yoongi smirked. “You’re evil.”
Taehyung winked already grabbing his phone. “I know.”
taehyung
hey, jimin’s at the bar with minho
just thought you should know
jeongguk
which bar.
Jeongguk got up, putting on his jacket and grabbing his helmet.
The Bar,
10:24 PM
Jeongguk had stormed in ready to fight. Taehyung’s text had lit a fire in him. Jimin. Minho. Bar. Three words that sent him out the door without a second thought.
But now, standing there, he saw them. Jimin, bathed in warm light, laughing at something Minho whispered in his ear. Minho’s hand resting gently on Jimin’s back, steady. Safe. No shouting. No slammed doors. No tears.
Just... peace.
Jeongguk’s fists unclenched.
Minho leaned in, brushing a stray hair from Jimin’s forehead, and Jimin let him. Jeongguk remembered the last time he’d tried that; Jimin had flinched, still raw from their last fight.
"Fuck," he whispered.
He turned and left before he could do something stupid.
The streets were slick with rain, mirroring the mess inside his chest.
His phone buzzed. Taehyung.
taehyung hyung
u see him?
Jeongguk didn’t reply. He already knew what Taehyung wanted, Jeongguk begging Jimin to talk to him. But not tonight.
Tonight, for once, he chose to let go.
Jimin’s laugh died mid-sentence.
"You okay?" Minho asked.
Jimin’s eyes flickered to the door, where a familiar silhouette had just vanished. Jeongguk?
But no, it couldn’t be.
"Yeah," Jimin lied, forcing a smile. "Just thought I saw someone."
Minho followed his gaze, then squeezed his hand. "Want to go see it?"
Jimin hesitated. "No," he said finally.
"We’re good."
Seokjin’s Apartment,
The Morning After
Taehyung was fuming. "He left? That’s it?"
Namjoon sighed. "Maybe that’s progress."
"Progress?!" Taehyung threw a pillow at Namjoon’s head. "They’re both miserable! Jeongguk’s a walking zombie, and Jimin’s dating someone he doesn’t even love—"
"Hey," Hoseok cut in. "Minho’s a good guy."
Yoongi rubbed his temples. "That’s the problem. Jimin doesn’t want that."
Namjoon spoke softly. "Maybe... they need this. To be apart. To grow."
Seokjin groaned. "Or they’ll just waste years pretending they’re over it."
Taehyung collapsed onto the couch. "We’re never fixing this."
After that, Jeongguk stopped going to bars.
Jimin stopped wearing the hoodie.
Neither stopped dreaming about each other.
The Dance Studio,
1:17 AM
Jimin’s muscles burned. He’d lost count of how many times he’d repeated the sequence: pirouette, leap, fall.
Pirouette, leap, stumble.
Pirouette-
His ankle twisted. He caught himself on the barre, breath ragged.
"Damn it," he hissed.
This wasn’t like him. He never messed up choreography like that. But tonight, his body wasn’t his own.
Tonight, his mind kept replaying that moment at the bar, the way the door had swung shut behind a figure that moved just like Jeongguk.
Had it been him? Had he wanted it to be him?
Jimin groaned, pressing his forehead against the cool mirror.
"Get it together," he muttered.
But his reflection stared back, hollow-eyed, unconvinced.
He slumped to the floor, legs stretched out in front of him, sweat cooling on his skin. His phone lay face-down beside him. He hadn’t checked Jeongguk’s Instagram in months.
That was a lie. He’d checked three weeks ago. And two days before that.
But tonight, something itched under his skin. He picked up his phone. Hesitated. Then typed: @jeon.jeongguk
Jeongguk’s feed was sparse. A few photos of his restaurant opening. A sunset. A blurry selfie with Taehyung and Yoongi.
But then, four days ago. A mirror selfie in the gym, Jeongguk’s facing the mirror, his phone and hand covering his face. His tattoo of Jimin’s initials on his knuckles.
JM
Jimin’s breath caught. He still hadn’t covered it. He still hadn’t let go.
Jimin’s thumb slipped. He accidentally tapped the tagged photos. And there, a post from @eat.seoul, a food critic’s review of Jeongguk’s new restaurant.
"Chef Jeon’s latest creation — ’Strawberry Kiss.’ A dessert so sweet, it hurts."
Jimin’s vision blurred. Strawberries. His favorite. Did Jeongguk name a dish after…
"Oh my god," Jimin whispered. His hands shook. He couldn’t breathe.
Jimin didn’t remember leaving the studio. Didn’t remember calling an Uber.
But suddenly, he was standing outside Jeongguk’s apartment building, heart hammering, fists clenched.
He should leave. He shouldn’t do this. He had Minho.
But Strawberry Kiss. The tattoo. The hoodie he still kept in his closet.
Jimin took a step forward. Then another.
Jeongguk had just placed the last plate on the drying rack when he heard it; a thump from the hallway.
His breath hitched. Was someone… at his door?
He wiped his hands on his pants, heart suddenly too loud in his chest.
Don’t hope. Don’t you dare.
He crept to the peephole, pressed his eye to it. Nothing.
Just the empty hallway, flickering under tired fluorescent lights.
He exhaled, shoulders slumping.
Of course.
He should’ve gone to bed. But something pulled him to the window instead, like a string tied around his ribs. He pushed the curtain aside.
And there. Right there.
A figure walking away, shoulders hunched against the cold, hands shoved deep in their pockets. Jeongguk knew that walk.
Knew the way the streetlights caught in that blonde hair.
Jimin.
His fingers tightened on the windowsill.
Was it really him? Or was his mind playing tricks again, conjuring ghosts out of longing? The figure turned the corner. Gone.
Jeongguk let the curtain fall back into place. He didn’t run after him. Didn’t call.
Just stood there, staring at his own reflection in the glass; tired eyes, clenched jaw, the same ache he’d carried for years.
"You’re losing it, Jeon," he muttered to himself.
But his chest burned anyway.
Jimin didn’t look back. If he had, he might’ve seen a shadow in the apartment of the second floor window. Might’ve seen him. But he kept walking, the cold air sharp in his lungs, his pulse still racing from almost knocking.
Almost saying his name. Almost ruining everything.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. He hoped it was him.
Minho
You okay?
You left your things at the studio
Jimin stared at the message, then typed:
Jimin
yeah just tired
see you tomorrow
Minho
See you
Sleep well <3
He didn’t mention the apartment. Didn’t mention him.
Jeongguk lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Jimin sat on his balcony, knees pulled to his chest.
Both wondering: What if I’d been braver?
A Random Restaurant,
Eight Months After The Breakup
"Jimin-ah," Minho said, thumb brushing over his knuckles. "I want this to be official. Will you be my boyfriend?"
Jimin’s smile faltered for half a second, so quick no one else would’ve noticed.
Jeongguk would’ve noticed.
Jimin noticed.
Noticed the way his stomach dropped. Noticed the way his chest ached, like his heart was fighting its way out of his ribs. Noticed the face that flashed behind his eyelids. sharp jaw, dark eyes, a voice that used to whisper ‘forever’ against his skin.
Jeongguk.
But Jeongguk wasn’t here. Jeongguk wasn’t his. Not anymore.
"Yes," Jimin heard himself say.
Minho’s grin was blinding. Jimin’s heart was a stone in his chest.
Minho laced their fingers together, snapped a picture of their hands, intertwined, the candlelight glowing between them.
"Let’s make it Instagram official then," Minho teased.
Jimin forced a laugh. "Sure. Let’s do it."
He watched as Minho posted it, caption a simple blue heart emoji and Jimin’s handle tagged.
Jimin hit like. Reposted to his stories. Then stared at the screen until the letters blurred.
Jeongguk’s apartment,
The Same Day
Jeongguk was halfway through a beer when his phone buzzed.
Instagram: @park.jimin just shared a post.
He almost didn’t look. But then his thumb moved before his brain could stop it.
And there it was. Jimin’s hand. In someone else’s. Jeongguk’s breath left him in a rush.
The first bottle of soju was gone in ten minutes.
The second, five.
By the fifth, he was on the floor, back against the couch, phone clutched in his hand like it could undo what he’d just seen.
"Fuck," he choked, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. "Fuck, fuck—"
He’d known this was coming. Known Jimin was dating that guy. But seeing it was a different thing.
"He’s yours now?" he slurred to the empty room. "Just like that?"
His reflection in the dark TV screen didn’t answer.
His phone lit up.
yoongi hyung
hey you okay?
Jeongguk laughed, incredulous and broken.
jeongguk
peachy
yoongi hyung
…
you saw the post, huh
jeongguk
yeah
yoongi hyung
let me know
if u wanna talk about it
Jeongguk didn’t reply. Just threw his phone across the room and reached for the sixth bottle.
dumb & dumber support club — [groupchat]
members: taehyung, yoongi, seokjin, namjoon, hoseok
taehyung
JIMIN SAID YES TO MINHO
WHAT DO WE DO
hoseok
OH MY GOD
TO MARRIAGE???
taehyung
why would u think that
theyre dating officially
yoongi
let’s not panic haha
seokjin
TOO LATE I’M PANICKING
namjoon
fuck
…but maybe this is good?
minho’s calm, jimin needs that
yoongi
joon istg gonna kick u out of the gc
taehyung
HE NEEDS JEONGGUKIE
hoseok
PRETTY SURE GGUK IS CURRENTLY DRINKING HIMSELF TO DEATH IN HIS APARTMENT RN
yoongi
should we intervene?
seokjin
AND SAY WHAT??
hey i know the love of ur life dumped ur stupid immature jealous ass but maybe theres hope? please stop drinking
namjoon
we tried that before
maybe they just need more time apart
taehyung
OR MAYBE THEY NEED TO STOP BEING IDIOTS AND TALK
hoseok
i feel bad for gguk
Jimin’s Apartment,
3:00 AM
Minho had kissed him goodnight before going home, soft and sweet. Jimin had smiled.
Now, alone in the dark, he pressed his face into Jeongguk’s old hoodie and finally let himself cry.
Jeongguk’s Apartment,
3:00 AM
Empty bottles littered the floor. Jeongguk lay on his back, arm thrown over his eyes, tears drying on his cheeks. His phone screen was still cracked from where he’d thrown it. The photo still there. Still hurting.
The Dancing Studio,
A Year After The Breakup
Jimin hadn’t meant to check. But one idle Tuesday, scrolling through his following list, while he waited for his students to arrive, he saw it: @jeon.jeongguk was gone.
Jeongguk had unfollowed him.
His thumb hovered over the screen, pulse thudding in his ears. This is good, he told himself. This is what moving on looks like.
So he unfollowed back. And deleted his contact off his phone.
And pretended it didn’t feel like cutting a thread he’d been clinging to for a year.
Teaching ballet was fulfilling.
Minho was kind. His life was… fine.
But sometimes, in the quiet moments between classes, he’d catch himself humming a song Jeongguk used to play in the car.
Sometimes, he’d see a man with broad shoulders and a motorcycle helmet and stop breathing for a second.
Sometimes, most times, he’d wake up reaching for a warmth that wasn’t there anymore.
"You seem happier," Hoseok said one day, squeezing his shoulder.
Jimin smiled. "I am," he lied.
Jeongguk’s Restaurant,
A Year After The Breakup
Jeon’s Table was small but thriving. His parents had helped him secure the loan, a few months after he and Jimin went on separate ways, his friends had shown up every weekend to pack the place.
No one knew the menu was a secret shrine.
Strawberry Kiss: Jimin’s favorite dessert, now their bestseller. Jimin loves strawberries.
Honey Butter Bread: Jimin loved to eat it for breakfast, he used to beg Jeongguk to make it for him.
Midnight Ramen: Something similar to the only thing Jimin could cook without burning the whole kitchen down.
Every dish was a memory. Every recipe, a ghost.
"You good?" Taehyung asked one night, watching Jeongguk chop vegetables with too much force on the kitchen of Jeon’s Table.
"Never better," Jeongguk said, grinning.
Taehyung raised a brow. "Do you ever think about him?"
"Who?"
"Jimin."
Jeongguk’s knife stilled.
"Nah. I’m over him."
Taehyung didn’t call him out. Just sighed and stole a piece of chocolate. "If you say so."
Jimin’s Bedroom,
2:00 AM
Minho slept soundly beside him. Jimin stared at the ceiling, tracing the cracks in the plaster like they held answers.
Why does it still hurt? Why can’t I let go?
Jeon’s Table,
2:00 AM
The restaurant was closed, the chairs upturned on tables. Jeongguk sat on the counter, eating his recipe, Midnight Ramen, alone. It didn’t taste the same. Nothing did.
Jeon’s Table,
The Next Day
"Chef Jeon," the critic, a sharp-eyed woman with a sleek bob, smiled as she scribbled notes. "Your menu here at Jeon’s Table is incredible. But I have to ask: what inspired your signature dessert, Strawberry Kiss? It’s unlike anything else in the menu."
Jeongguk’s fingers tightened around his water glass. He blinked a few times, trying to scare the tiredness away. He didn’t sleep last night.
"Just… wanted to try something sweet," he said, forcing a grin. "People like strawberries."
She tilted her head. "There’s more to it, isn’t there?"
The air in the room thickened. Jeongguk’s throat went dry. He figured there was no point in lying. It’s not like Jimin would read it.
"It was-" He stopped, cleared his throat. "Someone I knew loved strawberries. Used to steal them off when I was trying to bake."
The critic’s pen paused. "Someone special?"
Jeongguk’s pulse roared in his ears.
Lie. Lie. LIE.
But his traitorous mouth betrayed him.
"Yeah," he muttered, staring at the table. "Someone special."
"Ah," she said softly, understanding dawning. "A love story."
Jeongguk didn’t correct her.
The second the critic left, Jeongguk retreated to the kitchen, gripping the counter until his knuckles turned white.
Strawberry Kiss. Honey Butter Bread. Midnight Ramen.
Everything else.
Every dish. Every fucking dish.
All of them his. All of them Jimin’s.
Taehyung appeared in the doorway, arms crossed. "You good?"
Jeongguk exhaled sharply. "Good."
Taehyung’s eyes flicked to the critic’s business card on the counter. "What’d you tell her?"
"The truth."
Taehyung groaned. "Shit."
"Chef Jeon’s Strawberry Kiss; A Dessert Born from Heartbreak?"
The critic hints at a past love. Doesn’t name names. The internet notices anyway.
dumb & dumber support club — [groupchat]
members: taehyung, yoongi, seokjin, namjoon, hoseok
hoseok
DID YOU GUYS SEE THE ARTICLE
seokjin
OH NO JEONGGUK
WHAT DID HE DO
yoongi
…
i hope jimin reads it tbh
namjoon
jimin hasn’t seen it yet right?
taehyung
HE WILL
Jeongguk considers burning the restaurant down. Instead, he e-mails the critic:
"Can you edit that part out?"
Where she replies:
"Too late, Jeongguk-ssi. It’s already trending."
Jimin’s Ballet Studio,
Post-Rehearsal
Jimin is going over the next routine he’s going to teach when a student excitedly shows him the article on his phone.
"Hyung, isn’t this Hoseok sunbaenim’s friend? The chef?"
His hands shake. "Yeah," he whispers. "His friend."
He doesn’t say "the love of my life."
He doesn’t have to.
Jimin’s blood runs cold. He excuses himself and locks himself in a bathroom stall while he reads:
“A masterclass in longing disguised as pastry. The first bite is pure nostalgia; sweet strawberries dipped in vanilla syrup, nestled atop a cloud of mascarpone whipped cream. The bread crust, delicately salted, shatters like a heartbreak you can’t quite forget. But it’s the final note that lingers: a drizzle of balsamic reduction, dark and aching, a reminder that the sweetest things often taste like goodbye.
Is it a dessert? Or a love letter? Either way, it hurts so good.
— ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ @EatSeoul Magazine”
He cries himself to sleep that night. Again.
It had been a weak moment. Jimin had read the article. Heard the whispers. Seen the way people who knew they used to date looked at him when they thought he wasn’t paying attention. Did you know? Was it for you?
And one night, after Minho had kissed him goodnight and rolled over, Jimin had opened Instagram.
Typed. Deleted.
Typed again.
To: @jeons table (Jeon’s Table – Official)
"I hope I can taste the dessert someday. It sounds beautiful." Sent.
Then immediately turned off his phone, heart hammering. He never checked if it was seen. He couldn’t bear to know.
Jeongguk was cleaning out the restaurant’s instagram inbox when he saw it.
Unread messages (137).
Most were reservations. Catering inquiries. Promotional offers. And then—
Park Jimin.
His stomach dropped. The message was from March 14th.
It was June now. "Fuck," he breathed, fingers hovering over the screen.
What did he say? What should he do?
Reply? Ignore? Pretend he never saw it? His thumb trembled.
He clicked back. Closed the app.
Jimin never went to the restaurant. Never mentioned the message. Pretended it never happened.
Jeongguk memorized the words. Plated Strawberry Kiss every single night, wondering if this would be the day Jimin walked in.
It never was.
Minho’s apartment,
A Week Later
"Jimin-ah," Minho said softly, setting his phone down. "Can I ask you something?"
Jimin blinked, pulled from his thoughts. "Hm?"
Minho turned the screen toward him; an old photo of Jimin, mid-laugh, eyes crinkled like crescent moons, glowing. Jeongguk took that one.
"This is you," Minho said. "A year ago."
Then he swiped to another photo. Jimin now, smiling politely at a restaurant table. Like it was a chore. "This you now. What happened?" Jimin’s throat tightened.
"I…" Jimin’s voice cracked. "I don’t know how to fix it."
"Fix what?"
"Me." The word hung between them, heavy.
Minho exhaled. "Is it him?"
Jimin didn’t have to ask who ‘him’ was. His silence was answer enough.
Minho reached for Jimin’s hand. "I’m not stupid. I knew. somewhere in me, I knew I wasn’t… the one."
Jimin flinched. "Minho-"
"But I thought maybe, with time…" Minho shrugged, smile bittersweet. "I’m willing to try. If you are."
Jimin’s chest ached. This man was kind, patient, good and deserved more than half a heart.
"I don’t know if I can give you what you deserve," Jimin whispered.
Minho squeezed his hand. "Then let’s find out."
Jimin’s Bedroom,
3:00 AM
He stared at his phone. Two conversations, unsent:
To Minho: "I think we should talk."
To Jeongguk: "I miss you."
He deleted both, turned off the screen and closed his eyes.
Jimin’s Bedroom,
One Year and Five Months After The Breakup
Jimin has mastered the performance of happiness. Jeongguk has mastered the art of hiding grief in recipes. Both are lying — just well enough that the people who love them almost believe it. Almost.
Jimin holds Minho’s hand tighter in public. Laughs at his jokes a beat too loud.
Says “I love you” first, just to prove he can. Minho beams. Jimin’s chest aches with the lie.
Jimin deletes their photos. He has them backed up on a hidden drive.
Forces himself to crave Minho’s kisses. He closes his eyes and pretends they taste familiar.
Minho traces his cheekbone in bed and murmurs, “You’re happier now, aren’t you?” Jimin kisses him instead of answering.
Minho doesn’t see the smiles Jimin is faking.
Jeongguk makes three new dishes.
Vanilla Sky: A cloud-like soufflé. Jimin’s favorite ice cream flavor, eaten on their first date.
13th Floor: – A cocktail with a honey rim. The apartment floor Jimin lived on, where Jimin would lick honey off Jeongguk’s fingers.
Dancer’s Espresso: Dark, bitter, with a single sugar cube. How Jimin took his coffee during late-night rehearsals.
His apartment is too quiet. He researches dog breeds for weeks. Jeongguk stops himself at the shelter door. What if Jimin ever comes back and is allergic? He thinks.
“I don’t miss him.” he lies to himself. He dreams of Jimin’s laugh every night.
dumb & dumber support club — [groupchat]
members: taehyung, yoongi, seokjin, namjoon, hoseok
taehyung
jeongguk’s good now
he hasn’t mentioned Jimin in months.
hoseok
jimin’s radiant with minho!
yoongi
…you’re all idiots
[Jimin’s Notes App]
things i love about minho (to remember):
- stable
- sweet
- doesn’t yell
- he’s not j
(Unsaved.)
[Jeongguk’s Journal]
Adoption Application – Pending.
Reason for Pet: Loneliness
Real Reason: Someone to come home to.
Animal Shelter,
One Year and Eight Months After The Breakup
“Why a Doberman?" The shelter volunteer asks.
Jeongguk doesn’t say: because they don’t leave.
Instead, he smiles and says: "They’re good protectors."
Bam, it means night, he thinks it suits his new friend. He comes to him and wags his tail, sharp ears perked. Jeongguk crouches, scratching behind them. "Yeah. It’s you and me now, buddy."
He doesn’t think about how Jimin always wanted a pet. Doesn’t wonder if he’d like this one.
Bam sleeps at the foot of his bed. Jeongguk stares at the ceiling. The apartment feels less empty, it’s not enough but it’s something.
The Ballet Studio,
09:35 PM
His students are gone. The studio is quiet. His phone shuffles to that song; the one Jeongguk played on loop for weeks. Jimin dances. And dances. And dances.
If he moves fast enough, maybe he can outrun the memories.
He stops, chest heaving, sweat dripping. The mirror shows a man he barely recognizes.
"Pathetic," he whispers.
The word tastes like Jeongguk’s old nickname for him, "my little disaster".
Seokjin’s House,
A Day Later
Seokjin stabs his salad. "You’re not okay."
"I’m fine." Jimin pokes at his food.
"Bullshit."
Jimin’s fork clatters. "Hyung, I-"
Seokjin waits. Jimin breaths in, a confession doesn’t come. But they both know the truth.
Seokjin sighs. "You can lie to Minho. You can lie to yourself and everyone else. But I know."
Jimin’s voice breaks. "I know you do."
Jimin checks Jeongguk’s new Instagram post, it’s blurry photo of a dog’s paw on his knee. The caption: says: "Bam, the new boss."
He looks at it for five minutes and smiles. It’s genuine. Jimin wonders if Jeongguk remembers their old joke about getting a dog together instead of a kid.
He does.
Jeon’s Table,
Jeongguk’s Birthday
The restaurant lay quiet, its usual bustle silenced for the evening as the staff and his friends gathered for their private celebration.
The warm glow of string lights cast dancing shadows across the empty tables, while the lingering scents of garlic and caramelized sugar hung in the air.
At the center of the polished counter sat the cake, a delicate strawberry creation, its pink frosting artistic swirled, fresh berries glistening like jewels. To anyone else, it was just a dessert. To Jeongguk, it was a memory plated in sugar and pain, each layer a reminder of stolen midnight snacks and shared smiles over stolen bites.
His sous chef, Jiwoo, beams as she sets it down. “Made it myself. No nuts, because you-” She stops. Realizes, apologetic. No nuts. Because you told me Jimin is allergic.
Jeongguk forces a smile. “Thanks.”
His fingers hovered over the knife, hesitating, as if cutting into it might sever something irreparable. The first slice was always Jimin’s. Old habits die hard.
His stomach twists. Jimin would’ve stolen the first bite. Would’ve licked the frosting off Jeongguk’s thumb.
Then he felt a vibration in his pocket. A flicker of blue light from his phone screen. A notification.
A name he hadn’t seen in his messages for two years. The room blurred. The laughter around him muffled, distant. His thumb trembled as he swiped open the notification, the cake forgotten, the celebration fading into white noise.
Two words. "Happy birthday."
And just like that, the past came rushing back, sweet as strawberries, sharp as champagne, and twice as devastating.
Three years ago, Jimin had woken him up with kisses on his neck and chest and a small "Make a wish, baby"
Two years ago, they’d screamed at each other instead, fighting again, forgetting they had planned to have a peaceful day.
Now, just this. Jeongguk types. Deletes. Types again.
“Thank you.” he replies back.
Thank you. No exclamation point. No "How are you?" Just… thank you. Jimin stares at it for an hour.
Seokjin calls him that night. “Are you okay?”
“No,” Jimin says. Seokjin sighs when he hears Jimin quietly crying.
His best friend hugs him tightly.
Jimin doesn’t mention the text.
Neither does Jeongguk when Taehyung asks why he’s quieter than usual.
The Café,
Present Day
Jeongguk leans forward, voice low. "You should come. To the restaurant. Sometime."
Jimin’s breath catches. Strawberry Kiss. Midnight Ramen. All those dishes Jeongguk crafted to him like love letters.
"I don’t know if that’s… wise," Jimin murmurs.
Jeongguk’s jaw tightens, it almost kills him but he smiles. "Bring Minho. Make it a date."
Jimin hesitates. "Are you sure that’s okay?"
"Of course," Jeongguk lies. Jimin nods.
"Okay. We’ll come."
What he doesn’t say that he will probably spend the whole night comparing him to Jeongguk.
And Jeongguk doesn’t tell him that he will spend the whole night dying inside.
He tells Minho about the invitation Hoseok’s friend made over dinner.
He smiles. "That’s nice of him."
Jimin practices his "happy and satisfied boyfriend" face in the mirror.
Jeongguk revises the menu, adding one more dish:
Forgotten Petals: cherry blossom-infused tea, Jimin’s favorite from when they traveled to Tokyo together, Jeongguk’s birthday gift to Jimin.
He tells himself, "He’s coming. Be cool."
He wonders if this will finally kill him or set him free.
taehyung hyung
you’re really letting jimin bring his boyfriend to your shrine of heartbreak?
jeongguk
shut up
seokjin hyung
so you’re really going to sit there and eat symbolic grief food?
jimin
shut up
"If he tastes the dessert and doesn’t remember… I’ll let him go.” Jeongguk tells himself.
[Jimin’s Notes App]
rules for dinner:
- no staring
- no comparing
- do not cry in the fucking bathroom
“I can do this.” They both said to themselves.