Work Text:
11:30 PM
Jungkook has checked his phone about a million times by now.
It's a almost midnight. He's bouncing his leg up and down impatiently, pouting, eyebrows scrunched. Sulking, really, over the lack of this specific text message he's been waiting for.
He understands, Jimin might be resting right now. He hasn't exactly had the easiest past few hours. Days, even. He hasn't reached out enthusiastically to Jungkook that much either. Just their usual short updates on whether or not they're home, whether or not they want to meet up…
And they haven't been meeting up.
It’s nothing unusual, and they've gone days and weeks without meeting up despite their penchant for coming in a pair, but…
But, but, but, but Jungkook’s restless.
It's normal, isn't it? He went almost two years seeing Jimin practically every single day. Sleeping across from him every single night. What was it called? There's a name for this… Bam's puppy trainer had called it seperation anxiety. Well, that was about Bam, obviously, but still. Jungkook can relate.
Any other time he would've called Jimin to announce he's coming over, to talk or to eat or to just sit in the same room. No reason needed, just because.
Tonight he waits. Impatiently, but he waits.
“Hyung, just a happy birthday, please?” Jungkook whispers to himself.
He turns his screen on again to check the hour, to see if he missed Jimin’s name amongst the endless sea of birthday greetings. His pout grows deeper. Obviously, he understands, it's just… if Jimin ever cut out the rest of the world, Jungkook really thought he'd be the exception.
Okay, no. Maybe Jimin's just not feeling well. Maybe he’s sleeping already. Wait, no. He’d been jet lagged the last time they talked.
Should Jungkook just go ahead and call him anyway? Would it be out of place to call right now? Would it seem like he's fishing for a birthday greeting at the wrong time?
Ugh, too much thinking. He'll just call, alright? Decision made. He doesn't care if it's weird, he'll just—
Right then, his doorbell rings.
Jungkook groans. “Another one? Really?”
This happens way too much, lately. Annoyance and anxiety taste bitter on his tongue. They've taken all the safety measures in the world, but still, you never know.
One by one, he goes through the dreaded camera-checking routine. No one at the front door. Next. None in the basement. Next.
There. At the rear entryway, the discreet one only reserved for those who are important to him, stands a hooded, bundled-up figure Jungkook would recognise anywhere.
He throws the phone away like it hasn't been an extension of his hand for the last several hours and flies to the intercom. "Hyung."
Jimin's eyes turn into happy crescents as he waves to the camera enthusiastically, and Jungkook laughs at how silly he looks.
“I have to come get you, just to be safe!"
“Don’t make me wait too long.”
Grinning, Jungkook runs through huge rooms and long hallways until he finally gets to the back door. The first thing his body does, instinctively, is pull Jimin inside, shut the door with his foot, and wrap him in a big embrace. He doesn't mean to do it, but if feels right, so it happens. Jimin’s wearing a huge hoodie that drowns him, looking ripe for a cuddle, anyway.
“Hi to you too,” Jimin chuckles, before he returns the embrace in that comforting way he always does—one arm over Jungkook’s shoulder, the other cradling his head. “Miss me that much?”
“Mm,” Jungkook hums in response, only hugging Jimin tighter and nuzzling into his shoulder. He smells good, too. Not his usual scent, but it suits him. “I was just about to call you,” Jungkook mumbles still, not loosening up his hold on Jimin at all, “but I didn't want to be weird.”
“The birthday boy calling me? A bit backwards, isn't it?” Jimin laughs, before he lets go of the hug, and so Jungkook’s arms slowly let go too. As a courtesy.
Jimin's all covered up, only his eyes visible. It's not an unusual sight, but it makes Jungkook laugh. He pulls Jimin's mask down to his chin. "Come on, take the ninja get up off. It's hot in here, you'll boil."
"Your tackle didn't exactly give me time to get comfortable."
"What brings you here at this hour?” Jungkook asks, already thinking about what they could cook, cause he's hungry, suddenly, watching as Jimin properly takes off his mask and pulls down his hoodie-
Revealing blond hair underneath.
Jimin's blond.
Suddenly Jungkook's anywhere but his dark entryway corridor. He's in 2016, in a make-up room staring at Jimin with his jaw on the floor. He's in the middle of the pandemic. He's in practice rooms, in backstage dressing rooms, in Tokyo, in Sapporo. Jimin's car, Jungkook's apartment. Jimin's kitchen, Jungkook's bedroom.
Pressed together in a myriad different couches, a million different backseats, endlessly talking, laughing. Sleeping on each other's shoulders.
In the present, Jungkook chokes on air.
Fuck.
“What brings me here?” Jimin asks like he doesn't understand the question, still fixing his clothes, oblivious to Jungkook’s odd vertigo, “It’s your birthday.”
When Jimin finally stops moving, when he finally looks up at Jungkook, whatever was left of the air in the room just vanishes. So pretty, Jungkook thinks helplessly. So Jimin.
Jimin breaks what might have been a long silence with his laughter. “Ah, right.” He ruffles his own hair, as if to say tada! “The blond’s back!”
Jungkook’s mouth hangs open, and his body acts on instinct again, hand reaching out, but he stops it when Jimin's own shoots up.
“What? Is it messed up?"
"No, no, just…" His hand drops. "Wow."
"What, wow?" He tries to pat it into place, even though it already looks perfect. "Why are you acting like it’s the first time you’re seeing it?”
How does he explain? Is it going to sound stupid?
Who cares? Between them, who cares?
“Hyung,” Jungkook murmurs, “It’s… It feels like the first time, but at the same time… It’s like… getting back… All the…”
All the anguish and disappointment and crying in Jimin’s arms and performing with the blond mop of hair right by his side and seeing the world with it right in front of him.
All the good, all the bad. His whole life.
Well, the best chunk of it. The parts where he felt most alive. The parts that got buried under uniform buzzcuts for the past eighteen months.
All of it surging back to the surface, just with a bit of bleach and Jimin magic.
“Everything,” he finishes, a sentence that feels like it started ages ago. “Everything, all of it. Hyung, did you get this feeling too? When you first saw yourself in the mirror again?”
"You kinda lost me."
“Like… Life is finally really back. The one we lost when we…" He makes a gesture above his head, mimicking shaved our heads.
“Oh. Yes. Absolutely.”
“I wish you told me,” Jungkook still quietly mutters. He knew Jimin had been itching to do this, but he didn't know it would be today. “I would’ve come with you.”
An elbow nudge as he passes Jungkook by, letting himself in. “I wanted to surprise you.”
Jungkook’s heart beats strangely.
I wanted to surprise you. It echoes against another memory, another birthday he'd thought strangely meaningless. Another near midnight on September 2nd, when Jimin stood on his doorstep as if he hadn't been half a world away just hours before.
Was that when Jungkook fell? He doesn't know. It could have been. Or it could have been so many other moments. Big moments, heavy with the history they're making, or small moments, hidden in the folds of every day.
Jimin's already at the end of the corridor when Jungkook says, "I love it, hyung."
Jimin turns, pretty—blond!—hair bouncing. "Hm?"
He shakes his head and follows.
1 AM
Really, every hair colour suits Jimin. Even that outrageous three-coloured cotton candy style didn't look bad on him. His natural dark hair makes him look younger, innocent, but Jungkook knows Jimin feels most himself with bleached blonde hair.
And Jungkook just loves it when Jimin feels most himself.
Jungkook just loves Jimin.
And it might seem shallow, but it's not. It feels monumental, like a sign pointing towards the end of all the things that choke them.
No one's going to shave that pretty blond hair off. No one's ever going to do anything to Jimin's head that he doesn't choose and love and champion.
In a way, today's the first day of Jimin being truly, uninhibited Jimin for the rest of their lives.
Living as yourself, living unrestrained... Jungkook likes the sound of that.
This is what he's thinking as he places their dirty dishes in the dish washer, belly full and content.
“We should drink to this.”
Jimin stares, confused. "To what?"
Right, they were talking about something else before. Jungkook sometimes forgets Jimin can't actually read his thoughts.
"The return of the blond!"
Jimin laughs. "Seriously?"
Instead of answering, Jungkook takes him by the hand, intertwines their fingers, and tugs toward the direction of the closest room with a bar in it.
“Aren’t you too eager?” Jimin calls out, even though there isn’t any resistance to Jungkook’s tugging. “Didn't you say you didn't want to drink anymore? If I knew you still wanted to, I would’ve invited you.”
Jungkook stops, turns. “You went out drinking?”
Jimin makes a face, lifts a shrugging shoulder. “Not… out.”
“Oh." His hand, on impulse, grips Jimin's a little tighter. "Okay. But you still…”
“Went drinking. Yes.”
They don’t have a written rule to tell each other about everything, but something unpleasant still scratches at Jungkook's chest. “You didn’t tell me.”
“I thought you wouldn’t want to know… Especially because you wouldn’t be able to, because of your routine. What's the use in tempting you?”
"I wouldn't have minded."
"But why would I, if you can't come anyway?"
"Because."
"Because what?" When no immediate response comes, Jimin presses, "Don't eat your words, Jungkook."
Almost thirty years old, getting scolded. He huffs. "I'm just saying, I won't be tempted. So you should tell me anyway. Even if I can't come, I'd feel…" He scratches at the back of his head, pondering the word. "Safer if I knew.”
Jimin shakes their joined hands roughly, annoyance evaporated already, “What are you, my mom?”
No, I’m—
Best friend. Is it overbearing, to ask your best friend to tell you every time they drink, even if it's at home? Does it give you the right?
"I care about you," he ends up saying, and it comes out much less lighthearted than Jimin's words.
So many emotions flick over Jimin’s face. Too much to address, even though Jungkook's confident he can read them all.
It lands on a soft expression and a thumb brushing over the back of Jungkook's hand. A quiet, almost guilty murmur. “I know."
There shouldn't be guilt between them. But Jungkook wants to know these things. He wants Jimin to tell him. Jimin to invite him, Jimin to come over, Jimin to stay longer.
There's a heaviness to him now, one that Jimin's presence usually lifts—but maybe it's because of the day, one symbolic year older, and maybe it's because Jimin is back to his most beloved self.
Then again, maybe it's not the now, but all that's come before. Maybe it comes with having laid their souls bare for the world to see, with boundaries being broken, nothing much left to hide. They've given everything, sometimes freely and sometimes less so. The only things that managed to survive this life of theirs unseen are for them and them alone.
But Jungkook's sick of keeping parts of his heart hidden. He was born for the light, anyway, isn't that what people say about him?
Don't eat your words, Jungkook.
3AM
Everything’s a blur.
All Jungkook knows is he’s drunk, and Jimin’s blond and drunk, and in the haze of his thoughts he could be in 2017, he could be in 2020, he could be in 2023, he could be anywhere in between. Their conversation is a loose thing, full of stops and starts.
“I know we all know this,” Jimin slurs, “But your house is so big. And empty. And disorienting.”
Jungkook snorts. This is Jimin's favourite thing to say whenever he visits. “How else am I going to keep stalkers away? Maze house. No lights. Plenty of rooms to hide in. Genius.”
“It's too big! Especially for one person.”
“That wasn't the plan, was it?” he murmurs over the rim of his glass.
“Yeah? Who else were you planning on inviting into your mansion-no, dungeon of doom?”
He giggles at his own joke, and Jungkook is too drunk to keep the truth in. They both know it, anyway, he's pretty sure.
“Yeah, let's think. Who's that person I called every day when I was designing this place? Who's that person who helped me choose bathroom tiles and kitchen appliances? That stayed with me that first night I got the keys?"
He stares at the ceiling, a knot in his throat. Jimin's hair was black, then.
Silently, Jimin places a hand over Jungkook's thigh. Jungkook's leg stops bouncing.
"Did I say happy birthday? When I came in?"
Jungkook squeezes his eyes, trying to remember. It's hard to reach past the haze of his thoughts. "No," he realises. He turns to Jimin. "You didn't wish me for my birthday. For the first time in… god, what? Twelve years?"
"Hell of a streak to break."
"You don't sound too beat up about it."
"I mean, things are changing, aren't they?" He picks a tiny bit of lint off Jungkook's pants, flicks it away. "Why not this?"
Jungkook's heart pounds, thrilled and scared and drunk. "What's changing?"
"You're living in dracula's castle, for one."
Cheap trick to diffuse the tension. The loose conversation lets him escape.
Jungkook refills both their glasses and downs his own in one go.
"When you were drinking," he asks, voice hoarse, "was it with someone I know?"
"You know all my friends."
"Exactly." He wants the answer and he dreads it. His insides burn with jealousy already. "Tell me I knew them."
Jimin takes a long second, like he's contemplating the worth of the truth. "You don't know them."
That jealousy roars. Jungkook reminds it they're only best friends.
"Am I going to meet them?"
Jimin laughs like it's the silliest thing he's ever heard. "God, no. Jungkook-ah, it's not going to get to that." He melts into the back of the couch, eyes closed. "I'm done with all that. Useless, anyway."
He shrugs, though he cares, of course he cares. He would be looking Jungkook in the eye right now if he didn't, making a joke.
"Attempts at what? Relationships?"
As if he didn't hear him, Jimin goes on. "Being away from real life for so long, you know, it gives you clarity. I need to focus on work right now. Dance again. Sing again." He stares wistfully into the distance. "Be ready to pick things back up where we left off. There's no doing that if I'm arranging secret dates and signing NDAs and squirrelling weekends away for private get-aways."
Jungkook's never been on a private get-away. Not with anyone other than Jimin. This same person in front of him right now, down to the hair and the thick framed fake glasses resting on the coffee table. Why does he love those so much, Jungkook thinks fondly.
He realises his hand has travelled to Jimin's, thumb running over his knuckles soothingly.
"And I'm okay with that," Jimin answers a question Jungkook hadn't asked, "you know? I'm okay with it. It's something we need to do right now. I don't think I have the energy for something new, anyway."
"Mm."
"You don't agree," Jimin determines. "That's okay. Yoongi-hyung doesn't agree either."
"You talked to him about this?" In his drunk mind, he's getting more and more stung. Heart to hearts with others, drinks with others, and we all fucking know what drinks is code for, damn Jimin and his idol filtering still firmly in place even here, even between them. He thought they'd done away with that in the military. Can't he just tell Jungkook i hooked up with someone? Has to speak in riddles, like Jungkook is a child, like the truth isn't for his delicate ears? "When?"
"A few weeks ago."
Jungkook takes his hand away. Puts it to work pouring another drink.
"How about you?"
Jungkook looks at him like what about me?
"Did you meet up with anyone," Jimin asks softly, "in the past couple weeks."
"I would have told you," Jungkook reminds him, and he hopes Jimin hears what he's not saying, but then decides to tell him anyway. Don't eat your words. "I tell you everything. Most thoughts worth a damn and most worthless ones, too. I tell you everything."
Jimin's sigh is so soft it could have been Jungkook's imagination. His leg is bouncing now, but Jungkook doesn't reach out to calm it.
Jimin says, "You want some water?"
That's code for time to go.
Jungkook pours another drink for both of them. The clink of their toast echoes through the empty halls.
6AM
The curtains are pulled carefully closed, but the clock betrays the passing of time anyway. Jungkook's glad Jimin's got his back to it.
They're both on their sides, tucked towards each other under the bed covers. Jungkook's heart has been through a lot this evening, but it's settled comfortably now that Jimin's within reach.
This is where he should be, always. At the end of every night, he thinks, eyes closing to combat the dizziness. Jungkook made the ensuite bathroom just how Jimin likes it, with plenty of storage space to hide his mess, big mirror, lights… He doesn't know if Jimin's noticed. He notices so much, and so much goes right over his head.
His pretty, blond head.
"Why blond?" he blurts.
"Why not?" Jimin says smug yet sleepy. "It's everyone's favourite."
"But it's yours first."
"And yours."
Jungkook smiles, caught. Notices so much. His hand reaches out to touch and he makes it this time, fingers running gently through the soft strands.
He's done this before. He was shier about it, then.
"You still mind people touching your head?"
Jimin huffs, like he can't believe Jungkook remembers that. "Yeah."
"I'm touching it right now, though," he says, and that's another echo of their past—on the precipice of something big, Jimin blond, Jungkook enamoured with him down to his soul.
Hasn't it been like that the whole time?
Jimin's body is fusing with the mattress. He'd be purring like a cat, if he could. "You don't count."
"Thanks, Jimin-ssi."
Jimin snorts. "Yah, you know what I mean."
"Could it be…" Jungkook moves closer, until their noses almost touch, "that I'm special?" He smirks, drunk on soju, high on Jimin. "That I'm the exception?"
Jimin's eyes open. Time, already fickle tonight, last night, whenever, gives up the ghost already.
"You know you are."
That's all he needs.
And yeah, he's not thinking straight, but he doesn't believe thinking ever does any fucking good anyway, because if he'd kissed Jimin back then, in any of those back thens, if he'd kissed him and told him what the kiss meant, what Jimin meant, that he meant everything, that he meant always, that he meant comfort and relief and challenge and thrill and love, in the roundest, most all encompassing sense of the word, love for family and for friend and for lover and for soulmate and for life itself, if he'd done any of that instead of overthink and talk himself out of it, maybe Jimin wouldn't have needed those NDAs. Maybe the bathroom would be officially his. Maybe he wouldn't have missed Jungkook's birthday, because they'd have woken up in the same bed that day.
So, fuck thinking.
Jungkook's hand finds its way up from Jimin’s arm to his shoulders to his neck, until his fingers lightly grasp at Jimin's blond hair. His thumb brushes along Jimin’s cheek.
He pulls Jimin in, opens his mouth just a little, and kisses him.
His stomach explodes with excitement and nerves alike. He's yanked away from his half-asleep state into utter, accute wakefulness, and he can feel everything down to the tiniest detail.
Jimin frozen in his hands. Still, the kind that makes you scared.
Until he moves, on a sigh.
He presses forward into Jungkook's kiss with the confidence of the familiar, even though this is a first. He cradles Jungkook's face, and everything is suddenly so warm Jungkook's burning.
He has never felt this kind of alive before. He's sang in front of millions, heard his name chanted in chorus time and time again, and this, out of everything, his Jimin in his bed in his arms, is the most alive he's ever been.
When the kiss breaks and the world doesn't, Jungkook breathes a sigh of relief. His arms slide around Jimin's waist, pulling him closer. Their bodies have never moved quite this way before, but they feel like one. Like this is what they were always supposed to be.
Jungkook fucking knew it.
Jimin whispers, his breath coming a little too fast for the kind of kiss they shared, "What was that?"
Jungkook brings their foreheads together. "What do you want it to be?"
"It's up to me?" Jungkook nods, and their noses brush together. "What if I want it to be the first time of many."
Jungkook fucking knew it. He's got nothing left to hide, every corner of his heart illuminated.
"That can be arranged."
He kisses Jimin like he loves him, and loses track of time.
Eventually, regrettably, they need to come up for air. Jungkook only allows himself a second before he tries to dive in again, but Jimin stops him, hand holding him still by the chin.
"You and me?"
Jungkook nods, resolute. "What else?"
They've gone through everything before, but even still, Jungkook's never quite seen an expression this serious on Jimin's face.
"Kook-ah," he says, so so serious, "if it's you and me, it's for real. It's can't be because you're drunk, or because you're horny—"
A laugh. "Such language, Jimin-ssi."
The grip on his chin gets harder. "It's for real," he repeats. "You know that? If it's you and me, it's…"
He searches Jungkook's eyes for the word he's looking for. Jungkook ducks to plant a kiss on Jimin's palm.
"It's right," he supplies. "You know it's right, don't you?"
At Jimin's nod, something glows in Jungkook's chest.
"I won't sign an NDA, though," he says, giddily, and Jimin's serious expression cracks into laughter too. His gaze is bright and full of that soft thing, that lovely thing, that lingers between them whenever they look at each other for too long.
"You're sure?"
"Jimin," he says, pressing a kiss to his protesting mouth once more, "I've wanted this for longer than I could even understand. If there's one thing I'm sure about in this world, it's you and me."
And it's not because he's eating his words. It's because no term—relationship, dating, partner—fits the enormity of them. Jungkook's aiming higher. Jungkook's aiming for other half. Jungkook's aiming for forever.
"I'm sorry I missed your birthday," Jimin says, and Jungkook would laugh if he didn't suddenly feel choked up. God, his heart's been through the ringer. The things Park Jimin does to a man.
"You're here now." He smiles, though his eyes water dangerously when he sees Jimin's are glassy too. "Come over often."
Jimin kisses his mouth in promise. "I'll try."
"Come over all the time."
Kiss. "Yes."
"Don't leave again."
Kiss. "I won't."
"Stay with me," he says, a breath away from Jimin's lips. "Only with me."
Jimin's tears overflow first, slipping pretty down his cheek. His thumb is right on Jungkook's pulsepoint. "You're not usually like this."
He pulls Jimin on top of him, seeking the weight of him. "Get used to it."
Outside, dawn breaks.