The bad dreams always start right after midnight, torrential waves of images, fears and doomed fates painting themselves across the backs of Jimin's eyelids till he curls into himself and has to press his forehead to the wall, feel the cool against his skin to know that he's not really drowning.
Jungkook frowns when he hears the bed shifting in the next room, pushing a palm against the wall, and then his ear, just to make sure. Jimin's voice is unmistakable, no matter what he's saying, or not saying. Jungkook can't make out the words, if they're even words, but he can taste the distress in the way Jimin's voice dips and rises, high to breaking, and back down again before he goes quiet. It's too late for him to be having a toss with Taehyung.
His legs are out of bed before he can think of getting up, Namjoon's steady snores rumbling beneath his toes as he makes his way across the room, skirting the piles of clothes strewn across the floor, to the door which creaks but only just, and never enough to wake anyone proper. Jungkook blinks in the dense darkness of the hallway and feels his way along the walls to Jimin's door right next to his. It's brighter in here, a nightlight plugged into the wall in the far corner because Taehyung and Jimin are both afraid of the dark. Jungkook is too, sometimes, but he'd ever admit to it.
Jimin is curled in his bunk, bottom bunk because Taehyung likes being on top (no pun intended but it doesn't hold any less true, from the sounds--anyway). There's tension etched into the curve of his spine and his shoulders are almost hugging his ears, knees drawn into his chest in a way that looks like he's trying to shrink back into a childhood where someone could cradle him against their chest and it would all be okay.
Jungkook bites his lip and tiptoes over, leaning down to prod at Jimin's form.
Jimin just shifts and curls tighter into himself.
Jungkook sighs, crawling into bed behind Jimin, scooting till he's got a bit of the covers over his stomach, till he can wrap himself around Jimin with an arm over his middle and Jungkook's nose digging into the back of Jimin's neck. Jungkook takes a deep breath--cinnamon apple and lemonade dreams.
"Jiminie?" he tries again.
This time, Jimin relaxes into Jungkook's tentative touch. Jungkook breathes out--honey cider and blueberry crumble.
Jimin shifts, body unfurling, shoulders relaxing and Jungkook noses into the nape of Jimin's neck.
"Jungkookie?" Jimin's voice is soft as apple pie and just as sweet.
"Mhm?" Jungkook lets his lashes play against Jimin's skin.
Jungkook lets out a helpless laugh before nodding, lifting his arm to let Jimin turn, so their eyes catch, their noses brush. Jimin gives him a sleepy grin.
"You can't keep doing this y'know."
Jungkook frowns, fingers settling somewhere in the ocean at the bend of Jimin's waist, swirling soft circles. Jimin's ankles lock with his own and Jungkook bites down the urge to lean in for a kiss. Jimin always tastes like childhood dreams.
Jimin shrugs, letting his eyes wander the expanse of Jungkook's face. Jungkook feels them trace him into simpler lines and wishes that this is how the world would see him, in wishes made and a million, billion tiny little promises. Kept and unkept and whatever else promises are.
Broken and unbroken.
"Adults... don't do this."
Jungkook almost giggles, a grin spreading his cheeks. "We're not adults."
Jimin crinkles his nose, shoulders tensing for a second. "Aren't we?"
Something in his voice makes Jungkook want to curl up into a ball right next to Jimin, to wrap himself in Jimin's warmth and soak in it till that's all there's left of the world.
"I don't think so," Jungkook says, though he sounds much less sure than before.
"Feels like we are sometimes," Jimin snuggles closer and Jungkook rests their foreheads together. "Most times."
Jungkook nods and leans up to ghost his lips across Jimin's forehead. Jimin presses in and Jungkook can feel Jimin's breath along his collarbones. For a moment, they rest there in each other's arms, and for a moment, they are not Jeon Jungkook and Park Jimin. For a moment, they are playground swings and boxed lunches in all the colors of the rainbow, they are breaths of white during first snow, and so much more than the sum whole of all their accomplishments.
For a moment, they are not dreamers and stargazers.
They are dreams. They are stars.
"We're not," Jungkook says, and it feels strange to the reassuring Jimin of this because usually, Jimin is the one doing the reassuring. Usually, but not this time.
The small church down the street chimes in 1AM and Jungkook settles for pressing another kiss to Jimin's forehead.
"Sleep," he says.
Jimin lets out a little sigh and wiggles in tighter, "You too. I guess you can stay here for the night if it helps you sleep better."
Jungkook bites back a grin and rolls his eyes even though he knows Jimin can't see, "Yeah, yeah."
Jimin takes another moment to settle, another breath--carnations, sunrise, birdsongs, and high tides. Jungkook takes one as well--cider, wind chimes, secrets, and lullabies. And together, they are more than bodies, granite and leather, bones and skin, they are diamond and glass, solid and breakable and made of the pieces of each other that chip and break.
They breathe in, and breathe out.
They are children with their faces pressed against great glass windows of a huge glass house, looking out onto the world, wondering about how it tastes and feels and sounds.
"Gnight, Jungkookie," Jimin says, voice muffled by Jungkook's collar.
Jungkook tightens his hold around Jimin's waist, "Night, Jiminie. Sleep well."
Jimin's answering hum sings along to Jungkook's would-be dreams, but he stays awake for just a bit longer, because he's falling in love with the way Jimin breathes.