He'd never admit it to anyone, not even himself. Not if he were put on trial and swore on the Holy Bible (thank god he's not religious, right?).
Jeon Jungkook wouldn't be caught dead, no way, no how.
But right now, watching Jimin curled up on the sofa with a blanket thrown haphazardly over his middle, face pressed into the cushions, Jungkook doesn't have the will to walk away. If there were cameras, if there were just one other person in the room, he'd turn right around and close the door as loudly as he can. If, if, if.
No one is here but himself and Jimin.
Jimin fast asleep on the damn couch without a proper blanket and he'd catch a cold or something worse and then the whole comeback would be delayed because Jimin getting sick would be nothing short of catastrophic. No one needed that. Bang PD would have their asses; Jimin's ass to be exact and... well, the thought doesn’t make Jungkook happy.
"Who the fuck is the older one here," Jungkook mumbles, rolling his eyes and loosening his shoulders before scooping Jimin up with a soft grunt. He's heavy--all density and muscle. Dynamite in a small package, as Namjoon would say. Yoongi too, but that was more snark than anything physical (he could throw Yoongi like a javelin if he wanted to).
Jimin shifts till his face is pressed right into Jungkook's chest, and he's halfway down the hallway before he's realized that Jimin's hands are fisted on his old t-shirt, a soft smile on his lips. Jungkook takes a deep breath and a pause before he makes his way to the room that he and Namjoon share. It's empty; Namjoon's probably still up in Yoongi's room doing arrangements.
The bed looks big with Jimin on it, still curled up like a small child and for a moment, Jungkook pauses, tilting his head to the side. From here, Jimin looks nothing short of just that--a child. It reminds Jungkook that they all are. Still children. Too young to be so heavy (Jungkook's arms are sore but Jimin's body must be so much worse), too young to know the weight of so much expectation, to not only accept it but to open their mouths and swallow it whole, hold it in their bellies till it festers and bleeds through them, till it's all they know and right now, Jimin is the only good thing left.
He'd never admit it to anyone. Not even himself.
But Jungkook grounds himself in Jimin's smile, in the way that he laughs and can't stop laughing once he starts, in the way that he bites his lip and frowns when he can't get something right and tries and tries and doesn't stop trying till he does. Solace is too mature a word--too worldly and huge. No, it's not solace that Jungkook finds in Jimin.
"... col..d," Jimin frowns and curls in on himself even more so than before.
Jungkook snaps to. Jimin's somehow managed to gather all the blankets into a tight ball he's clutching to his chest and stomach body wrapped around it so that there's nothing covering his back or sides. Jungkook heaves a sigh and leans down, trying to extricate the blankets. Jimin whines and Jungkook's hands pause.
"Damnit..." Jungkook frowns and gives the blankets one last tug to no avail. Jimin curls in again, still whining.
"It wouldn't be if you used the blankets properly," Jungkook says, prodding Jimin in the side. Jimin lets out a small giggle and something twists in Jungkook's stomach.
"Fine, do what you want. I'm gonna go sleep on the couch." He makes it all the way to the doorway before he falters and turns to give Jimin's form another glance. He'd most definitely catch a cold like that, with his whole back out and Namjoon can't be trusted with this stuff--he doesn't even dry his own back when he gets out of the shower.
Jungkook lets the door fall shut with a louder snap than usual, kicking off his slippers and he uses his knee to nudge Jimin farther onto the bed to give himself some room. He settles around Jimin with his arm thrown over Jimin's form, to keep himself from falling, he tells himself. That's it. That's all.
He closes his eyes and his body loosens. Jimin is warm against his chest and Jungkook breathes in. Jimin uses citrus shampoo. The world falls in silk curtains around them both, star-heavy, night-right. Jungkook breathes in and Jimin breathes out and Time hums, watching with half-lidded eyes.
Morning combs through their bangs with loving fingers and soft rays whispering against their cheeks. Jungkook peeps open one eye, letting it fall shut against the dawn breaking through the window. Seokjin is already in the kitchen; it smells like rice and deliciousness. It smells like--
Jungkook looks down. Jimin is looking up at him with his eyes half shut, a smile so soft and wide on his lips Jungkook has to resist the urge to press Jimin's face into his chest just so he wouldn't have to look at it anymore. It's blinding compared to the morning light.
"How'd you get here..." Jimin asks, yawning, making no effort to pull away. Sometime between sleeping and waking, the two of them had become tangled in each other’s limbs. Jimin's ankles are hooked in Jungkook's and Jimin's face is just under Jungkook's chin, so he can feel every breath taken hot against his collarbones. Jungkook's arm is numb from where Jimin had used (and is still using) it as a pillow, his other arm had somehow found its way around Jimin to rest against his back.
The blankets are scrunched up at the foot of the bed, being of no use at all.
"This is my room," Jungkook says, working words through the gravel of his own voice. Jimin is nuzzling back into his chest and Jungkook is too comfortable, too sleepy to pull away. And he doesn't really want to anyway.
"What're you sorry for?"
"Passing out... thought I was in the living room."
"You were." Jungkook lifts his free hand to card through his hair, yawning as he rolls onto his back, other arm still trapped under Jimin's head. "You were gonna get sick if you slept in the living room again--it's fuckin' cold out there at night."
Jimin stays quiet and for a moment, Jungkook thinks he might have fallen asleep again, but Jimin turns to grin at Jungkook again and he regrets turning to check on whether or not Jimin is asleep.
"I just didn't want any delays for the comeback," he says, coughing through the crack in his voice, "if you get sick, we're fucked. Bang PD would have your ass."
Jimin chuckles and nods; his hair tickles Jungkook's arm. "A lot of people would have my ass."
Jungkook scoffs. "Not before I have it first."
The pause that follows lasts one beat too long and Jungkook's skin prickles with an onslaught of heat. But Jimin just laughs like he does and sighs, smiling up at the ceiling, watching the pinks and oranges bleed across the white paint. Jungkook watches too and wonders if the colors he sees are anywhere near as warm as Jimin feels right next to him.
"I thought you didn't like cuddling," Jimin says.
Jungkook grunts. "I don't."
"You were hogging the blanket and there was nothing covering your back. You would've gotten sick." He tries to keep his voice as flat as humanly possible. He's not sure how well it's going.
"Hm~" Jimin turns back around and slings an arm across Jungkook's middle.
"What are you doing?" Jungkook glances down at the top of Jimin's head, not right below his chin. Jimin has his cheek pressed to Jungkook's heart.
"I just like how this feels. It's nice. Kinda hard to explain but I kinda just wanna stay like this forever." His voice is distant and soft; drugged up and dragged down with the weight of dreams, not expectations and it's nice. It really is nice--so Jungkook thinks as he lets out along breath and watches Jimin's head move with his chest.
"We can't," he says, "breakfast'll be ready soon."
"Just a few more minutes. I don't get to feel like this very often."
"Feel like what?" Jungkook catches himself running his fingers through Jimin's hair and finds that he doesn't really give a damn anymore.
"Like this. And you smell nice." Jimin laughs. The sound echoes up Jungkook's bones to the base of his neck where it tingles and makes his eyelids go heavy.
"What do I smell like?" His hands find a patch of skin at the nape of Jimin's neck and pauses.
"Like..." Jimin's voice is so light it could be a dream, or a song, or the dream of a song.