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Jungkook’s combat boots hitting the freshly rained on pavement is the only thing making noise on the empty street. Of course, who else goes out at ass o'clock at night and after heavy rain? But he couldn’t sleep anymore, no. The little demons whispering in his ear were louder than ever before and he was not feeling like drowning tonight.

Entering the dead convenience store around the corner, the cashier shoots him a nasty glare, scowling at him. Jungkook snorts. It’s always like this. Since he has gotten his piercings - eyebrow, nose, lip and about 10 on both ears - and traded his once bubbly, bright clothing for black only and heavy leather, people treat him like a plague.

How wrong they are. But as one society does, they’re judgmental to no end.

The store smells bad and the lights are dingy and he can’t wait to bail out of there, so he quickly walks to the beer aisle. He scowls at the labels, honestly, he’s not a big beer fan but it’s a cheap and lighter solution to escape reality than hard liquor. The average-quality 6 pack is his choice to go.

Choosing to grab something to munch on too, he moves to the snack’s corridor. At least they have their favorite this time, cheese balls. It’s tasteless and even tacky, but it’s one of the few good memories he can use from his childhood. On the way to pay, he sees from the corner of his eyes some lollipops on the stand.

Getting closer, a soft smile starts to bloom in his previously serious face. These big, exaggerated pink lollipops are Jimin’s favorite. Every time they go to a store - doesn’t matter the place or time - Jimin just has to get one of those. Strawberry is his standard flavor and Jungkook has seen Jimin eat these for many, many years now.

He picks two - one to give out to Jimin next time they see each other, the second to keep in his room. God knows when his friend will break down again and he has to run to aid him and try to mend him together. It’s not much, but Jungkook knows that these gestures make the pink haired happy, even if it doesn’t last long.

Giving the cashier a slight nod, he hands his thing to go through the register. He considers buying a pack of cigarettes. It just looks so tempting, glistening under the lights, he can feel the sin calling him for afar. That kind of relief that not a lot of other things can offer him. He shakes his head at the thought, because he promised Jimin that he would stop, and he doesn’t want to be the one breaking Jimin’s heart.

He collects the bag from the girl and walks the same path back home. The moon is shining brightly in the sky, posing beautifully and full among the stars. Stars are scattered around, twinkling nonstop. It’s always beautiful this time of the year. He tries to map out constellations as a form of distraction. The night sky has always been his friend.

Arriving at his tiny, tiny apartment - at least it’s his and no one else’s - he discards his boots at the door and goes to sit on his bed, scattering the items he just had bought on the mattress. The beer and snack remain there. One of the lollipops is tucked away in his bedside table and one goes inside his leather jacket pocket, because he knows he’ll be wearing that again once he sees Jimin.

He crosses his legs and leans back, opening one of the cans and taking a sip. The liquid is not even cold and he kinda wants to spit it out, but that’s what he’ll have to deal with it for now. Lolling his head to the side, his forehead rests against the big window. Probably one of the reasons he decided for this apartment - it allowed him to be closer to his never leaving friend, the dark vastness of the universe.

Letting out a breath, he continues to eat and drink quietly. At some point, tears roll down his cheeks, breathing turning irregular. It seems that the year-end always takes an extra toll on him. The voices in his head won again for the night, but it doesn’t seem as bad when there’s a dazzling smile and pink hair on his mind getting him through this, once again.








On Fridays, he and Jimin would hang out in the park. After dawn, it’s abandoned and not a single living soul would pass by, making it the perfect spot for them when the weather collaborated. They could be at peace, without anyone to scowl at them like they’re dirty and whisper to their kids ‘don’t be like them’ .

Jungkook is sitting on one of the swings, it’s old and makes an annoying creaking sound but his mind is used to it by now. The night before was rough, as many are, his face is still a bit puffy and eyes with a tinge of red. The cold air makes the tip of his nose turn slightly red too, so he snuggles into his scarf even more.

He’s lost in thought, tinkering with the ring sitting on his left thumb. He doesn’t love rings as much as Jimin does, but this one was a gift. They didn’t celebrate Christmas, never did, but one day two years ago, Jimin came up to him with the ring clutched in hand.



“Jungkookie, I wanna give you something. Will you please give me your hand?”  

Jungkook’s heart beats loudly in his ears. Every time they touched, there were sparks. He offers one of his hands and Jimin delicately holds him, small fingers wrapped around his palm.

Quickly he pulls out the ring and puts in Jungkook’s fingers, taking a couple trials to find each one would fit the size best, ending up laughing at himself because of that. Jungkook memorized the sound of it and the way Jimin’s eyes curved deep in his head.

His breath hitched when he saw the ring. It was a black band, with tiny roses carved on it.

Only Jimin would get him something like this.

“I know we don’t do this, but I just saw this and wanted to give it to you…” Jimin kept his hand on his. “It’s beautiful and made me think of you,” he said, looking up to Jungkook.

Jungkook’s heart was exploding.

“Jimin…” he trails off, still unsure on how to express his feelings.

“I get it if you don’t wanna wear it. You’re not into rings anyway. It’s fine, really” the other drops his hands, stepping back.

“I love it.”

“What?” Jimin looks at him, an incredulous expression on his face.

Jungkook pulls him in for a hug, kissing the top of his head. “If it’s something you’ve given me, then it’s important to me. Thank you.”

Jimin lets out a breath and returns the hug, basking into the other’s warmth. Jungkook just hoped he wasn’t able to hear the erratic beating of his heart, swollen with love.



Jungkook has never taken off the ring since then.

He’s pulled out of his trance when tiny fingers poke his forehead. Looking up, he finds Jimin in all his glory. Jimin is breathtakingly beautiful and there isn’t a moment Jungkook doesn’t think that way. Under the moonlight, he seems to glow even brighter.

Jimin doesn’t have any piercings on his face, because his beauty doesn’t need extra adornments. He chose to stick with only the ones on his ears because he’s the tattoo guy. His right forearm is the canvas for a beautiful, colorful half sleeve. Jungkook knows each one by heart.

His pink hair, resting over his forehead, contrasts deeply with his outfit - black jeans, olive green bomber jacket and combat boots. It softens his features and makes prejudice less harsh on him, allowing him to score a job at the tattoo parlor (not that the place is actually well seen by the town people, anyway).

Jungkook smiles as he notices that Jimin is wearing his red beanie. It makes a scary warmth bloom in his chest, in discordance of the cold surrounding them. He lent it to Jimin one day that was so windy and he needed to get to work, at least a 15-minute walk in the cold. Jungkook wouldn’t allow him to get cold, insisting for Jimin to take it, and he didn’t have the heart - or wanted - to ask it back later. His clothes would always look much better on him.

“Hey Kook-ah,” Jimin smiles at him, bouncing on his heels to keep himself warm.

“Hi Min. You good?”

“Yeah, all good. But it’s soo  cold and it might rain again soon,” he looks at the sky, nose scrunching because of the frigid weather. “Can we go to your apartment for a bit?” he asks, crossing his arms and ducking his head like he’s embarrassed by asking that.

Jungkook stays still for one second, stunned by the question. Jimin rarely suggests going to his apartment, it has always been Jungkook who made the invitations. He worries, mind racing with bad thoughts already. Did anything bad happen, for this change of heart?

Nodding, he gets up and they start walking side by side. Silence washes over them but it’s comfortable, they’re used to it, no need to fill it with empty words. Their shoulders brush from time to time but neither seem to mind.

They reach the apartment quickly and Jimin makes himself comfortable on Jungkook’s bed (the apartment leaves no space for a proper living room) by sitting with both of his legs propped up, looking so tiny and fragile. Soon Jungkook follows, handing him a can of beer.

He haired sits next to Jimin, having a drink of his own. He knows something’s up because Jimin wouldn’t stop picking on the fabric of his ripped jeans. He reaches out and rests his hand over Jimin’s knee, making his breath hitch.

“Talk to me. Please.”

Jimin squirms in his position, head snapping to look at him. Jungkook’s beer is forgotten and resting on the nightstand and he’s frowning, eyes scanning for any of Jimin’s expression change.

Jimin’s mouth slowly turns into a disbelief smile. “Just something really good happened today. And I kinda can’t believe it,” he finishes, shaking his head in disbelief.

“What happened?” Jungkook moves closer and Jimin can smell his cologne. It’s the same scent his red beanie has.

“I got offered a position as a tattoo artist. It’s more hours working, but the pay is much better. God, I can finally start to see the light you know? Maybe the dream of moving is not just a dream now.”

“Jimin. Oh my God.” Jungkook tackles him, engulfing him in a big hug. “That’s amazing!”

Jimin just giggles, because it’s not often that he sees him with such enthusiasm, and often he just misses the sight of him smiling. Jungkook, more than anyone else, knows how much Jimin deserves to have a better life.

“I know right? Of course I said yes right away.”

They end up lying down (blame it on the happiness outburst), side by side and Jungkook pulls Jimin into his chest. He just fits just so, so perfectly right there, in the crook of his neck. It’s a perfect match, one made in heaven. Jungkook knows that at least that, he has to thank God for.

“You deserve the world, Jimin. I hope you know that.”

He wouldn’t dare to expose his face to Jimin now, deciding to avoid eye contact. His cheeks heat up when he says these things, but he can’t help it - Jimin deserves to know and be reassured. He goes through hardships every day and never complains, never falters. Jungkook doesn’t know how he remains so strong after all this time.

Jimin sighs and buries himself deeper into Jungkook’s neck, his nose brushing against it softly, a shiver running down Jungkook’s spine. Silence falls over them, only the sound of light rain drops hitting the windows fill up the room. And it’s fine, because they’re together.

Jungkook’s almost dozing off when Jimin’s voice, barely a whisper, wakes him up.

“Kook, will you tell me when something’s wrong, please?”

Wrapping one arm around Jimin’s body, sleepily holding him closer, he replies.

“Yeah, Min. But nothing’s wrong when I’m with you.”

He falls asleep not two seconds after, but Jimin stays up a long time with those words replaying in his head.








Jungkook wants to be Jimin’s first client.

Jimin has been trying to convince him to get a tattoo since he was 17 but to no avail. Many times he almost succumbed to the soft spot Jimin has in his heart, with those rosy cheeks and plump pout. But he’s never found a design he really liked or thought it would complete him , make less of the void inside him and reflect his soul.

The older would laugh at him, because “Kookie, not everything needs a meaning. Things can just be pretty as it is.” He agreed, but couldn’t see beauty like that in places other than Jimin’s eyes. As time passed by and the black vastness of the sky became his best company, he found a muse worth of tattooing. The moon.

So he goes to the tattoo shop, right after Jimin’s shift starts. The shop doesn’t even have a name, just a neon sign on the front, with “tattoo shop” blinking rhythmically. Jungkook’s never been to the place before, but he’s not surprised with what he finds inside. The walls are plastered with posters and tattoo designs, some generic rock playing in the background that barely does the job of muffling the buzz of the machines.

A girl with green hair greets him with a bright smile, asking him if he has an appointment. Jungkook notices she has tattoos and piercings, which makes his heart content with the fact that he’s not the odd one out this time.

“You’ve got a lot of nice piercings there!” she comments while looking through their bookings. His hands automatically fly up to touch his eyebrow piercing. According to Jimin, that one is his favorite because it makes him “so handsome and bad boy material”, causing Jungkook to blush for the whole day after that.

His thoughts are interrupted by the girl is screeching “Jimin, your first client is here!” and Jungkook’s heart thrums in anticipation.

He walks up to Jimin’s tattoo room and the pink haired beams at him, exclaiming an excited “Kookie!” and going in for a hug. His tiny arms wrap around Jungkook’s middle, and he returns the hug, nuzzling his nose against the soft hair. He allows himself to be comforted by the embrace and warmth Jimin radiates, going straight to his heart.

“Did you come to visit? My first client is supposed to be here soon!” Jimin pulls back and he looks so, so happy that Jungkook just wants to hold his cheeks and kiss him on the forehead.

“I am your first client, Jimin.”

“What?” Jimin’s face drops, eyes widening in confusion.

“Uh, surprise?” Jungkook scrambles to explain, he feels stupid, because he didn’t even check if Jimin was okay with this. Why did he think this would be cool? His chest tightens, his throat goes dry and he should go, leave, leave Jimin to be happy and not interfere with his burdening presence. Fuck, he’s so inconsiderate. He detaches himself and starts rambling that it was a bad idea, walking towards the door.

“N-no!” Jimin reaches for his hand, stopping him on his tracks. It feels like Jimin’s fingerprints are leaving marks on his palm, marks that not even the hottest shower could erase. Jimin pulls him closer, looking up at Jungkook through his bangs.

“Just… thank you for trusting me, Kookie” his voice is barely louder than a whisper, and for a second Jungkook thinks he might cry. “This is important to me,” he squeezes Jungkook’s hand and the touch is gentle, just like Jimin’s soul is.

It shouldn’t affect Jungkook as much as it does, but it sounds like Jimin is whispering his heart out in a secret that only he is supposed to hear. And Jungkook knows that, he knows the importance of this to Jimin, of the importance to them too. Their hands weight perfectly in one another and neither want to part with the touch.

Jungkook, in a haze of looking into those dazzling eyes, cups Jimin’s cheek with his free hand, thumb caressing the rosy skin from the cold, ghosting over the faint freckles that remain there (Jimin hates it, Jungkook has never seen anything more beautiful) and he can feel Jimin leaning into his touch, lashes fluttering rapidly and letting out a sigh.

“I always do. Anything for you, Min.”

Jungkook takes a mental picture of the scene, his hand being able to fit Jimin’s cheek completely, his love nuzzling against him like a cat, like he wants nothing more than just stay there for the rest of the day. And Jungkook would let him.








Jimin hums under his breath to the song playing on the radio, picking out the inks and making sure everything is ready. His back is turned to Jungkook and the other scans the plain room with his eyes. It’s simple, there’s no decoration yet but Jungkook knows that soon enough the walls will be plastered with the pure, insane talent that is Jimin’s drawings. Maybe one day, when he’s brave enough, he’ll show his own drawings too. With years of practice, he became a master in drawing Jimin’s portraits.

When ready, Jimin sits on a stool next to the bed he’s sitting in. He has gloves and a mask on, the full proper attire, and even though it’s covering half of his face, Jungkook knows that he is smiling to himself. Jimin’s eyes never lie.

“I’ll need you to lie down and take off your shirt,” he explains gently, motioning to the bed.

Of course he needs to be half naked - after all there’s no way to get a tattoo on your collarbone with a shirt on - but still, it makes him feels nervous. He nods, grabbing the hem of his shirt and taking it off, only to crumple it up on top of his crotch. The cold material from the chair makes him hiss, but soon is warmed up to his skin.

Jimin eyes his body quickly, but not quickly enough that Jungkook doesn’t pick up on it. He becomes hyper-aware of the fact that it has been a few good years since Jimin had seen him like this and he’s much different now. His muscles are bigger, more prominent, a product of hours spending and trying to exercise his frustration off. He’s definitely not the lanky, 16-year old that once Jimin had kissed.

He tries to shake the memory off, but no, destiny is a bitch that just doesn't give him rest. It’s there when he wakes up and when he goes to sleep, always on the back of his mind, the fact that he is utterly in love with the man in front of him. Since always, and probably forever too.

It hits him with full force when Jimin reaches with shaky fingers to clean his skin, holding an alcohol-soaked cotton ball.



They were watching a movie in Jimin’s room, like they always did after school. The pick of the day was a romance, Jimin’s choice. Jungkook wanted to whine at that and plead for some action, but he’d endure the sappy movies for Jimin’s happiness.

At that point in the movie, the couple finally got together, the guy gets the girl, the whole trope was coming true. The actors are sharing a passionate, beautiful kiss that makes Jungkook’s cheeks heat up just by looking at it.

“Ah, I want that too,” he hears Jimin sigh from where he’s lying next to him.

“What, a kiss?” Jungkook asks, turning to him.

“Not just any kiss, Kook. A kiss with feelings, like that ,” Jimin points a finger at the TV.

“Well, I guess you need to kiss someone you love then,” Jungkook concludes shrugging his shoulder like he has just solved the problem. He’s not going to lie and say he has never imagined kissing Jimin like that. Maybe it’s part of why he doesn’t like to watch romance movies, it makes him think about them too much.

Jimin hums in thought, locking eyes with him. He scoots closer, until their thighs are touching.

“I guess so,” he says and then he’s closing the gap, kissing Jungkook and not giving him time to react. It’s light at first but the touch is long, just their lips pressing together in a simple peck.

Jungkook’s mind reels, Jimin is kissing him, Jimin is kissing him.

He senses Jimin is about to pull away because of the lack of response, but he’s not going to let this chance slip away. He moves his lips tentatively again the plump ones, feeling the bounciness against his own mouth. Jimin sighs in content, his tiny hand coming to rest over Jungkook’s nape, fingers playing with the short hairs there.

The younger clutches Jimin’s shirt with both hands, afraid that this is all an illusion and soon might be gone. They find their clumsy rhythm together, Jungkook is not an experienced kisser, only having kissed maybe three people before and he knows that Jimin is not too.

Jimin traces the seam of his lips with his tongue and beckons him to open up. Jungkook almost mewls when their tongues touch and he can feel Jimin even more, taste him like he always wanted to.

He is hungry, eager for more. He pulls Jimin into his lap and the older complies quickly, wanting this as much as the other. Jungkook busies himself with tracing kisses all over his jaw and neck, eliciting pretty gasps out of Jimin. He doesn’t know where this is coming from, but he doesn’t care. Jimin toys with the hem of his shirt, cold fingers feeling the soft and warm skin hidden underneath.

“C-can I?” he asks with an erratic breath and it takes a second for Jungkook to understand what he’s referring to, but he nods, even if they don't really know what they're doing now.

Jimin takes off his shirt, leaving him bare in the open, skin flushed from the kissing. The older eyes him up, taking in his shape and then Jimin’s hands are all over him, on his arms, his back, his stomach and his nipples. Jimin has always loved his physique.

They keep kissing during an eternity, they don’t need to take anything further right now. He’s content in kissing and kissing Jimin, of squeezing his thighs, of feeling his warmth against him and tasting him on his tongue. Jimin leans over and sucks a bruise on Jungkook’s collarbone that he knows he’ll get teased about in school - but he that’s definitely not on his mind at the moment.

After a good making out session, Jimin pulls back, holding onto his biceps. Jimin looks like a vision, the then blonde hair fanning over his forehead, cheeks pink and lips swollen from the biting. They hold eye contact for who knows how long and Jungkook’s heart just wants to leap out of his chest, he wants to personally rip his heart out and just give it to Jimin.

Jimin looks like he wants to say something, maybe this being the time they could bare it all, only to have his parents arrive at home sooner. Jimin scrambles off him, and the almost regretful look he gives Jungkook when the younger is leaving is enough to make Jungkook understand the situation without him having to say a word.



It was the first and only time they have ever kissed.

Jungkook was mad about it, for a long, long time. He felt bitterness in his heart every day - why would Jimin do that to him, out of all people? At that time, Jungkook had been out for him for quite a while. Jimin and his grandma were the only that knew his true self. He wasn’t ashamed, no, but he understood the price to be paid for loving boys.

He watched them grow apart, watched how his friend’s gaze didn’t provide him any warmth and comfort anymore and how desperately Jimin was busy, suddenly being the perfect son, being the perfect dream man of all the girls at school. He watched on the sideline as Jimin tried to date girls. It was mostly quick flings that ended amicably, Jimin would explain with a smile on his face, but Jungkook knew that smile was as empty as his heart was.

The kiss ate him up from the inside out, rotted his little heart with jealousy and all things ugly, until one day he understood. He understood when Jimin banged at his door and cried himself to sleep in his arms, blabbering about how it hurt to be someone who he is not, how he is not disgusting, what could be disgusting about love ? Is he really that disappointment of a son?

He understood Jimin’s angst. He’s been there and felt it in his bones. And he never, ever wanted him, out of all people, to feel the same. So he shushed him quietly, patting his hair, whispering that everything would be okay. That he’d always, always love him, and he meant it.

Jungkook is pulled out of his memories by a nudge on his arm, he looks startled but soon his eyes focus on the crescent moon eyes right in front of him. Jimin offers him a handheld mirror, asking him to check if the placement of the stencil is okay. He looks at his reflection and his heart swells at the sight of his nightly companion (soon to be) tattooed on his body. Giving back the mirror, he gives Jimin the go ahead.

“Okay-” Jimin exhales “If my hand is not light enough just tell me. Tell me if you need a break too.”

Jungkook can sense that he’s nervous, the way his brows furrow and his cheeks are puffed up inside the mask, so he reaches for Jimin’s hand briefly, giving it a squeeze.

“You’ll do great. I know your potential,” he reassures.

He can’t see half of Jimin’s face, but he can imagine the little gasp forming on his lips, considering the wide-eyed look he gives him. It’s like Jimin never expects someone to praise him, to tell him he’s more beautiful than the most exquisite flower in the world. It’s like he’s trying to process and convince himself of that, every time. Jungkook doesn’t mind repeating praises until Jimin takes it as his truth too.

He braces himself for the pain when Jimin lowers the machine, needle ready to pierce through his skin. It’s not half as bad as he expected, the machine vibrates so much that it almost numbs the pain, the most annoying thing being the buzzing sound on his ears. He can’t see much of Jimin because of their placements, so he ends up staring at the arms working on him. Jimin has always had nice, toned arms, and the colorful tattoos moving over the muscles add a nice touch to it.

Jimin finishes the line art fluidly and expertly, wiping in between and having used probably too many paper towels for that. The pink haired pulls away, backing off a little to change the needle to a multi-needle pointer for shading. Jimin turns to him, pulling his face mask down a bit and Jungkook internally sighs in relief for being able to see his face again.

“You good?”

“Yep, barely a scratch.” Jungkook chuckles and his heart flutters when Jimin smiles at him.

“So, tell me Kook-ah, why choose this tattoo?” Jimin asks, cocking his head to the side. He’s glad Jimin doesn’t ask him about his motives behind the gesture. He isn’t sure this is the best moment.

“Ah-” Jungkook takes a deep breath. “I guess I just needed a reminder that the moon is always there, you know? Even in the darkness, when I can’t see it, it will be there for me again. It will guide me again.”

He locks eyes with Jimin, suddenly a serious tone in his voice. “No darkness can last forever, right?”

Jimin looks at him like his analyzing something, weighing the truthness of Jungkook’s words in his mind. He gives him a tight lip smile, and then nods as his gaze grows fonder.

“That’s really beautiful,” he says as he puts his mask back on and gets to work.

Jimin knows that he loves the moon, he knows that there’s a bond. He doesn’t know though, about all the night confessions to her about Jimin, about the shed tears under the moonlight. About how when the moon is gone and the sky is dark, Jimin remains being his light.

They both stay in a nice, quiet comfort, the machine buzzing between them, Jimin focused on getting every stroke right. By the end of the session Jungkook was wincing a little, his skin sore and tender from all the rubbing and poking. Jimin’s fingers on him made his heartbeat pick up the rate like he wasn’t expecting to.

“Done!” Jimin exclaims excitedly, wiping the tattoo one last time and applying some ointment on top.

Jungkook is anxious to see the final design. He couldn’t see anything as Jimin was tattooing him, so it’s going to be a nice surprise to see it complete. Once done, Jimin discards his gloves and mask, throwing them in the bin next to him. “Go ahead, take a look at the mirror. I think it’s pretty good.”

Jimin smiles at him, rolling his chair away so Jungkook can hop off. He walks towards the mirror, startled at the black ink etched into his skin. He comes closer, entranced by how delicate each trace is. His skin is not even as red as he thought he would, Jimin being extremely careful with him.

His fingers ghost over the design, almost wanting to reach out, touch it - feel that it’s real - even though he shouldn’t right now. It has completed his bad boy look, now he’s definitely never going to get approval from society, being tattooed and pierced.

He almost forgets he’s shirtless for a second, looking at Jimin in the reflection of the mirror - catching him with pink cheeks, eyes quickly scanning his back and waist. Suddenly he wants to cover himself, make him less vulnerable to Jimin’s gaze that always pins him down.

“Wow. Jimin… you’re so talented. It looks incredible, thank you.”

Jimin beams at him, and that’s what Jungkook likes to see - when he believes in himself, accepting the praises coming his way. He finally dresses again, being careful to not rub the fabric against his brand new ink.

“Here.” He is handed a flyer, a tiny paper with everything tattoo care. Jimin talks seriously, with importance as he does his job. It’s amazing, how confident and relaxed he is at the same time.

“Wash it three times a day with antibacterial soap. Be gentle, dry it out patting. Apply ointment three times a day - after washing, but also it’s important to do it before going to bed. A thin coat just works fine. Do not scratch even if it itches, otherwise, it will ruin the design. There are other important info in the paper, too.”

Jungkook nods in understanding, but in reality, he was extremely entranced by the way Jimin’s lips move when he talks, how his eyes widen when he wants to put emphasis on something, or even how his tiny hands wave in the air following the flow of his speech.

“Soap, ointment, no scratching. Got it.” He offers Jimin a playful smile, tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Ah, before you go, can I take a picture of it?”

Jimin fishes his phone out of his pocket, already putting it in camera mode. Sometimes does not sit well with Jungkook, about Jimin having a picture of him shirtless on his phone, about how intimate that would feel. He decided to tug the collar down, the stretch of the fabric providing enough leverage to showcase the full work.

“Thank you so much, Kookie. I’m really glad you were my first customer.” And the thing with Jimin is, he’s always thankful. He just did his job, yet he’s here thanking Jungkook for giving him such a chance. In Jungkook’s opinion, the world should be thanking the heavens for an angel like Park Jimin to exist.

It would be too tempting to hug Jimin again right now. Just have him in his arms, shelter him from everything else, feel his warmth against him again. Jungkook just ducks his head shyly instead, tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear.

“Uh, before I go, where will you spend New Years? I was thinking we could go to my apartment and -”

Jimin interrupts him, a big sigh in his voice. “Kookie…”

And Jungkook knows. He knows that tone, he knows the gentle way Jimin tries to talk to him, to smother him down. He closes his eyes, already knowing the answer Jimin will give him - it has been the same since forever.

“You know I’d love to, but-”

“Your parents. Yep, I know.” Jungkook cuts him off, feeling frustrated. He has heard this so many times, so why does it continue to hurt? Jimin truly looks apologetic, like there’s something else left unsaid in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin whispers, looking down at his hands. If he’d look at Jungkook, he’d see the hurt flashing through his eyes and that’d be too much.

“‘S okay. I’ll go now. Have a good first day, Jimin.”

He swallows down the sadness clogging his throat, trying to keep his voice steady and calm. He definitely doesn’t want to put Jimin down or to make his first day miserable because of his stupid idea. So he just says bye with a tight-lipped smile, and leaves Jimin be.








By the time Jimin leaves work, the strong winds have swept the streets, making the dried out leaves accumulate on the sidewalks. He kicks them mindlessly, the cold hitting his cheeks as he does so. The sun is setting beautifully, a faded orange with tinges of pink, fading into the blue sky. It reminds him of Jungkook, not so strangely - a nature’s gift of beauty.

He enters the house quickly, only stopping at the kitchen to get himself a glass of water. He passes by his mom, sitting on the couch as she knits quietly. She barely acknowledges him, only sparing him a glance.

The water running from the tap doesn’t distract him from the voice coming from the living room.

“Were you with that boy again?”

And her tone, despite calm and collected, has an undertone of disapproval. He can sense the despise in her words when she says that boy , because she knows the only person Jimin would be with, is Jungkook.

Jimin wishes he could live a normal life and say, no, I was out with my girlfriend . That his mom would finally smile at him with approval, instead of giving him doubtful eyes, full of questions - whose answers she already knows, but doesn’t want to admit.

“No mom, I was working.” He replies with a resigned sigh.

He only hears her acknowledgment mumbling - it’s like she never trusts him completely - and then she goes silent again. He takes this as his cue to escape, quietly going to his room to disappear.

His room is his safe haven. There are books stacked, drawings and designs hung on the walls, his desk has all of his art supplies neatly tucked away. There are small pots of plants on his shelves - courtesy of Jungkook, giving him something small to cheer up and that is also easy to take care of.

Jimin takes care of them, because the plants comfort him. It should be weird, but not when it was a gift from him.

He throws his backpack on his bed, moving on to his wardrobe. He trades the jacket that was barely warming him up for a soft oversized hoodie. The hoodie makes him feel comforted, even after Jungkook’s perfume has faded away.

Once, Jimin had sneakily taken this hoodie from Jungkook and snuck into his backpack, bringing it home with him. It was so long ago that he believes that Jungkook has no memories of it whatsoever, so he doesn’t feel guilty about it when wearing it.

It makes him feel safe. Like Jungkook is with him, holding him close, telling him it’s going to be okay.

Jimin rolls the sleeves up, making himself comfortable on his chair. He turns on the lamp, the warm light illuminating the room. He has a sketch pad in hand, a pencil on his other.

He debates what to draw - there are so many choices, but he just needs to… draw his feelings out. Express what he can’t in words.

The first stroke lands easily on the paper, a smooth line appearing. Then the second, following by a third and so on. Soon, Jimin has a full sketch laid out on there. The lines are a bit messy, but that’s not his priority right now.

He just - needs to get this right, he erases it and redoes over and over, but he can’t represent on the paper the true glow of Jungkook’s eyes. It’s not his first time trying, and though he memorized his eyes, his stare deep into his mind - it’s not enough.

The paper breaks from how much he erases, trying to get it right; and feeling frustrated, Jimin shoves the drawing away.

He rests his head on the desk, exhaling in distress. There’s this unsettling feeling in his guts, this distress for upsetting Jungkook in the slightest. His chest tightens, his heart constricts.

Jungkook has always been there, but Jimin still aches for him so bad.

Tracing a finger over one his favorite tattoos, Jimin sighs. The red carnation etched onto his forearm, easily distinguished from the others by its color. He doesn’t know what compelled him to get this tattooed - maybe it was the way Jungkook shyly knocked at his door, head ducked down and offering him the single flower with a blush on his cheeks.


“Jungkook? What are you doing here?”

Jimin couldn’t hold back the surprise in his voice. What was Jungkook doing at his door - at this hour - and a flower in hand. He can’t also help the way his breath hitches, because Jungkook looks dashing against the sunset sky, with a backward cap on.

“Well,” Jungkook starts, offering the single red carnation towards Jimin. “The school didn’t allow us to go to prom, so I’m here to take you out on our own prom. Jimin, will you go to prom with me?”

And it takes a second to Jimin process what he’s doing, frozen in place. And when it hits him, he laughs, throwing his head back in delight. They were shunned from their high school’s prom - the principal had made it clear that their visual was not socially acceptable for such a large scale event. Jimin had been pretty sad about the whole thing - not that he’d go to it anyway, but by the fact they were denied even before making their own decision about it.

And Jungkook would do everything in his power to make Jimin happy. He’d move the sea, the earth, and even the moon if Jimin asked him to, with that hushed sweet voice of his.

Jimin takes the flower from him, bringing it to his nose, smelling its perfume. Jungkook looks at him with a dumb, fond smile on his face - relieved that his plan didn’t go south. Jimin flushes - cheeks almost as red as the flower - and he inspects the petals, the shape; the flower is in perfect, immaculate condition.

“Yes Jungkookie, I’ll go to the prom with you.” He manages to answer as his laughs fade.

“Shall we go, prince?” Jungkook mocks, bowing forward and extending his arm out for him. Jimin has half a mind of kicking him in the shin for being so silly, but for now, he intertwines his fingers with Jungkook’s - and just lets himself feel pure bliss.

They walk hand in hand, giggling as their feet stomp the path in sync (much like their heartbeats). The spring warmth makes it so enjoyable to be outside, the flowers blooming, the green getting more vibrant as days pass by. It’s undoubtedly, one of Jimin’s favorite seasons.

“Where are you taking me, Kookie?”

Jungkook only tightens the hold on Jimin’s hand, answering a simple “you’ll see.”

And fifteen minutes later, they arrive at the park - the same one they meet all the time. The park is simply beautiful during Spring. It’s well maintained, with plenty of playgrounds, but the flowers and trees are breathtaking.

“Here we are,” Jungkook exclaims, opening his arms to motion at the park.

Jimin giggles, shaking his head. “The park is our prom date?”

“Aha! Not only just the park, look.” Jungkook quickly jogs to a picnic table nearby, taking out of his backpack some snacks and drinks, and also a small speaker. He sets up his phone and a slow ballad starts to play.

He makes his way towards Jimin, snatching the flower of his hand. Jungkook places the flower behind Jimin’s ear, and how badly he wishes he could take a picture of that moment, to forever keep it.

Jimin’s heart feels like it’s going to claw its way out of his chest, thrumming louder and louder as Jungkook crowds his space. Jungkook is delicate; making sure to fix Jimin’s hair after that.

“There. Now, will you give me the honor of dancing with me, Park Jimin?”

And his eyes are expectant - like he is nervous Jimin would turn him down at any time, turn his back on him and go away. But Jimin, he just gets lost in Jungkook’s eyes; because they’re deep and warm, sometimes speaking more than a thousand words.

“You’re silly,” he replies, placing his hands on Jungkook’s shoulder.

Jungkook smiles, in a lopsided way. “I know, but you love it.”

He holds Jimin by the waist, and Jimin decides not to answer that; only leaning to peck Jungkook on the cheek, as Jungkook’s heart leaps inside his chest, breath hitching.

“Thank you, Jungkookie.”

Jungkook goes silent, the tip of his ears going red. He quietly leads the dance, holding Jimin close enough but delicately; Jimin is the most prized thing in his life.

They’re not really great dancers, uncoordinated even, barely managing a one two-step dance. But it’s perfect, in every single way. Them, moving as one, as the sky fades into an orange dream and the night slowly falls upon them.

After a while, Jungkook decides to speak up. “I brought food and drinks for us later, too.”

Jimin only hugs him tight then, resting his head on Jungkook’s chest. “I don’t wanna do anything else other than dance with you right now.”



A year later, when he decided to tattoo the flower, he finds out its true meaning. He couldn’t contain the shock running through him when the tattoo artist turned and said, “ you know what red carnations mean right? It’s a way of saying ‘my heart aches for you’”.








They don’t see each other the following Friday after the tattoo session.

Jimin still walks to the park after work, a tinge of hope blooming in his chest.  He sits in one of the picnic tables, twirling one of his rings over the surface as he waits. A few minutes pass, the sky gets darker - and nothing.

Jungkook doesn’t show up, and as the cold seeps into Jimin’s bones (and heart), he decides to head home.

And maybe luck is really not on his side today, maybe fate is laughing at his face for once. He enters his house, trying to be as quiet as possible, but he stills at the door as he hears a fight coming from his parent’s room.

When will he realize this is a phase and get a real job?

Please, it’s a good job. He’s keeping himself busy.” His mom tries to appease his dad, even though she’s not the biggest fan of his job.

This is all his friend’s doing, I swear. Why did he have to like that faggot of a friend so much? He’s turning into one, I swear.”

Jimin doesn’t listen to the rest, the words are spoken loud and clear enough to cut through his chest. Tears start to pool at his eyes because this is it, this is what he’ll always be to his parents - a faggot, a jobless, a disgrace.

He turns back and runs away, slamming the door on the way out. He doesn’t think about where he’s going; his vision is blurred by the tears, the night makes his pathway dark. He just lets himself to be led by his feet, to somewhere safe, to Jungkook’s apartment.

His shaky hands knock on the door, and it doesn’t matter if Jungkook is upset with him, if he doesn’t want to see him now. Jimin needs him, and Jungkook is all he has.

Jungkook opens the door, confused in finding him there. And a broken whine of ‘ Jungkooki e’ gets stuck at his throat, only more tears flowing out of his eyes as he sees Jungkook, like he can finally break down in his presence.

“Hey, hey, Jimin. You’re safe with me now, come here.”

He doesn’t even question what happens at the moment, he just takes him in. He sits Jimin on his bed, takes off his shoes and makes him drink some water. The tears won’t stop - Jimin crying is like opening a dam, breaking down all of the walls he worked hard on building up.

Jungkook does what he does best, he secures him. He simply lies down with him, holding him tight. Jimin sobs like a baby onto his chest, dampening his shirt with the shed tears. Every tear breaks Jungkook’s heart too, little by little. God, how he wishes he could take his pain away.

One of his arms is safely snug against Jimin’s waist, the other softly caresses his hair. Every now and then, he’d place a soft kiss to the crown of his head, whispering comforting words. Jimin cries and cries, until his eyes are red and puffy, until his sobbing slowly decreases to a light sniffle.

He doesn’t notice how Jungkook sheds a tear or two too.

Once Jimin has calmed down enough, tired from crying and exhausted from fighting it, Jungkook sings for him until he falls asleep, lulling him into some rest.

Being in Jungkook’s arms - his safe place - is the only thing Jimin ever wants. It’s a judgment-free zone, he can break down and cry and just be , because he knows Jungkook will love him unconditionally. Jimin lets himself be spooned by Jungkook that night, feeling like that’s the only right thing among this crazy, sick world.

The next morning Jimin awakens with a headache, the swell in his eyes making it so uncomfortable to blink. Jungkook is still asleep, nose buried in Jimin’s neck, breath even - and Jimin freezes, stomach dropping at how intimate this position is.

He calmly breaks free from him, careful not to wake him up with any sudden movements. Regret in showing up is what he feels when he finally takes a look at Jungkook. His face is pale, bags under his eyes and this is wrong because Jungkook should look youthful at all times, and not like the consequence of dealing with the burden he is.

A glass of water is served for himself and he drinks it quickly, body practically begging for some hydration. He contemplates eating something, as he hasn’t eaten anything since his lunch break yesterday. But again, he feels like he’s disturbing more than anything else.

“Jimin,” he hears Jungkook’s raspy voice call for him.

“Good morning, Kook. I think I’ll go now, I’m sorry for last night.”

Jungkook rubs his hands over his face, trying to shake off his sleepiness. “No, stay. We need to talk.”

“Talk about what?” Jimin inquiries, but he already knows the answer.

“About what happened last night. You know we have to.”

I’m fine now, that’s what matters. What is the past is the past.” Jimin dismisses him.

Jungkook looks at him with bewilderment. “Past? Jimin, this happens more often than not. And I know it’s because of your parents, for fuck’s sake!”

“Jungkook, I am helpless until I move out. I’m doing my best here, can’t you see?”

Jimin slumps against the wall, feeling frustrated. He doesn’t want to argue with Jungkook or raise his voice at him, but he feels the annoyance creeping up on him.

“I know that, but I also see how they hurt you. This is not the first time I’m asking you this, please , move in with me. We can make it work. You’ll be free from them.”

Jungkook takes Jimin’s hands in his, giving it a squeeze. He looks hopeful - and Jimin hates to break his heart every time.

“I don’t want to depend on anyone , I wanna do this on my own. I need to do that for myself, Jungkook.”

Jungkook only pleads again, a frown in his face, desperately trying to convince him.

“Your pay is higher now, we can share the rent and all the costs, nothing is being handed to you! You know how hard it is for us to live in this town, let alone find an apartment.”

And he does have a point, because it would be difficult to quickly find an okay place to live, that is not a hole in the wall, at a good price AND with someone willing to rent it for Jimin.

“I… don’t know, Kook.” Jimin rests his head on his chest, an exhausted sigh leaving his body. Jungkook manages to disarm him every time.

“Just promise me you’ll think about it, please?”

“Okay.” He promises and that night, Jungkook goes to bed with something good blooming in his chest.






A few days before New Year’s, Jungkook decides to pick Jimin up from work. He prepares him a small, simple arrangement of white violets. He managed to get a job as a florist, although he can only stay in the back room preparing the arrangements. It doesn’t matter to him though, because he still gets to do what he likes.

Jungkook has always loved flowers - it was one of the greatest heritages his grandma had left him. He was just a kid when he first grabbed a book about flowers, sitting there on his grandma’s shelf.

She taught him a lot, how to treat the soil, have a delicate hold on the flowers, how to plant it and nurture it to full growth. But she also taught him about the most important things of all, in Jungkook’s opinion. The language of flowers.

It was never just flowers. When he was around thirteen, barely getting a grasp of the world, he’d sit beside his grandma with doe eyes and attentive ears. He watched her care for the roses, that wouldn’t bloom no matter how hard she tried.

He questioned, isn’t it easier to just get a new one?

But his grandma would only shake her head, ruffling his hair with her manicured hand.

“Jungkook, would you trade someone you love for a new one when they’re not at their best?” is her answer, trying to make him think. It does nothing to help him, brows furrowing in further confusion as he tried to make sense out of it.

She sighs, gently cupping a button with her hands.

“You see, I love this flower. Its thorns might prick me sometimes, but it’s only a defense mechanism. It is precious for those who invest time and love in taking care of it, holding it with respect. It might take a while, but I love this flower, no matter its state now. I know that it will soon bloom and thrive.”

And for thirteen-year-old Jungkook, he couldn’t see the value of this lesson at the moment. He kept in his heart regardless, as he did with everything that his grandma would tell him. It was only after a few years later when he realized that was what loving Jimin felt like.

Two years after that, when the roses fully bloomed, beautiful and perky, his grandma cut one off and gave it to him.

“You know what red roses mean, dear?”

“Love,” he answered simply. He examined the flower in his hand, it was truly perfect, the crimson red contrasting against his skin.

She hums in approval, satisfied with his knowledge.

“I want you to give it to Jimin. Deliver it to him.”

Jungkook gasps, cheeks burning in embarrassment- why wasn’t he good in hiding his feelings? What if Jimin knows, then?


“You treat him like the most precious flower in the world.”

He has half a mind of denying, sputtering some excuses, but his grandma’s pleading eyes weaken his heart much further than he could control. That was the first flower he ever delivered to Jimin, meaning love , and he hasn’t stopped ever since.

At 16, he delivered petunias to him.

At 17, it was jonquils.

At 18, it was a red carnation.

Every flower holds a meaning and a story, it holds a truth. It’s no different with the white violets, which is a plead for them to take a chance on happiness.








As much as Jungkook’s apartment is small, the building itself has things that he just can’t give up - like the rooftop.

The last floor had a beautiful view of the city, showcasing the stark skyline. It had a little shed built, with a bench sitting against the wall. It wasn’t that big either, but it’s good enough to shelter one from any kind of weather.

Jungkook particularly enjoys spending the New Year’s there. It’s high enough to give him a clear view of the fireworks and isolated enough that he doesn’t need to deal with anyone else. It’s him, the sky and his mind only.

He prepared a cozy spot for himself - the building is empty this time of the year, so he gets away with doing things like setting up an inflatable mattress there. He gets a few blankets and pillows, as well as his food and drinks.

After making the bed and setting up the bed (perfectly placed for a clear view of the sky), he’s pleased with himself. It’s missing something ( him ) but it’s not something he has control over. He needs to endure, to accept that Jimin doesn’t have to cater to his every wish.

Grabbing a beer can, he walks to the ledge. It has a protective fence, thankfully. Who knows what could’ve have happened. He looks down at the streets. He sees so many cars, so many lights, everyone rushing to get to their destinations and celebrate.

The beer leaves his fingers cold and stiff, the chilly wind worsening the situation. He buries himself deeper into his jacket, that even zipped all the way up makes his big nose go cold, and gets rid of his beer.

The door that gives access to the rooftop opens, rushed steps coming to his direction. Jungkook turns, because he’s supposed to be alone today and-


Jimin’s voice melts him as a whole, and the mere sight of him has his heart stuttering.

“What are you doing here? What about your parents?” He asks genuinely intrigued, reaching out to meet Jimin.

He’s buried under a big, cozy sweater that has him looking much smaller than reality and a scarf around his neck that barely shows his button nose and rosy cheeks. The pink in his hair has faded just a tad bit, but still perfect.

“Ah,” Jimin lets out a dry laugh. “They think I’m with Mina.”

Jungkook hums, a moment of silence passes between them. “Won’t they give you shit for this?”

“I honestly don’t care. I… just wanted to be with you tonight.”

His voice is hushed and sincere, spoken with that slight lisp to it. Even if the sound was slightly muffled by the scarf, Jungkook hears it loud and clear.

He’s unable to find the right words to express what Jimin does to his heart, only a dumb smile blooming on his face. Jimin slightly shivers, so Jungkook offers him his hand. “It’s getting colder. Let’s go lie down for a while?”

Jimin is impressed with the quality of the setup Jungkook had done, from the fluffy pillows to the speaker playing music. New Year’s has always been Jungkook’s favorite holiday, despite being so close to the sadness that is Christmas. New Year’s is always a new beginning, a rebirth.

“You got candy just for me?” He teases, happily munching on Haribo gummy bears.

“I didn’t know if you’d come but I hoped so,” Jungkook mumbles while lighting some candles. It looks far more romantic than it should, but it’s not his fault the rooftop doesn’t have any lights and he has to resort to that - and the nice smell is a bonus.

When he’s done, Jimin is already on the bed under the cozy blankets,  only his eyes out and looking a bit warmer than before. Jungkook lies down next to him, selecting a good playlist.

“What time is it?”

“Almost eleven,” Jungkook replies as he stores his phone away.

Sharing a bed and a blanket is nothing new to them, but this feels heavy and intimate. Jimin is pliant tonight, soft around the edges, maybe feeling a little looser. He doesn’t hesitate in snuggling close to Jungkook, resting his head on his chest.

“Cuddle me,” he asks. It’s so out of character that Jungkook freezes for a second, mind wondering what is up with today. But he’d never deny Jimin anything, so he only wraps his arms around his middle, securing him right there - where he belongs.

Jungkook softly caresses him as they stay quiet for a while, watching as one or two fireworks are prematurely set off into the sky, making a canvas out of the deep sky. Jimin is pensive, fidgeting with Jungkook’s jacket zipper.



“I made a decision.”

Instantly, Jungkook knows what it’s about. He doesn’t speak, giving him time to elaborate. Jimin doesn’t look him in the eyes, focused too much on finding a distraction.

“I want to move in. But, please, I need you to be a hundred percent sure of it. I’m not a perfect person Jungkook, I’m broken . I have issues. I have breakdowns. We’re friends, but can you live with that? You don’t deserve it. Please, think about what this actually entails. I’m a burden.”

He finally looks at Jungkook, eyes glossy with unshed tears. He sniffles, taking a deep breath to calm himself.

“The reason why I’ve kept so much from you is that you’re my happy place, Kook. I’d never want to taint that.”

How can the world expect him to act calmly when he hears Jimin speaking such things about himself, thinking he’s a burden to him? It’s so wrong that he just wants to claw his way inside Jimin’s mind, removing every ill thought and replacing it with the sheer happiness he deserves.

He cups Jimin’s face, thumb wiping a lone tear that dared run down his cheek.

“I love everything about you, Jimin. I know you like the back of my hand. And I know how perfect you are and what you mean to me, after all these years. Let yourself rely on me.”

Jimin’s eyes reflect a thousand stars in them, flashing so many emotions as he searches Jungkook’s eyes. Jungkook feels his heart beating in his ears, mouth going dry. It’s like a magnet - pulling him closer and closer, until he drowns in the beautiful depths that is Park Jimin.

And if Jungkook thought the moon looked beautiful tonight, she has nothing on Jimin’s beauty right now.

And it kind of happens in slow motion, like it’s a surreal dream. Jungkook closes the gap between them, a tentative brush of lips. He doesn’t think about what he’s doing, he doesn’t try to stop the feeling inside his chest. He lets himself go and completely love Jimin.

The first touch sparks urgency in both of them, unleashes the pent-up frustration of years. Jimin kisses him back, pressing his lips firmer against Jungkook’s, silently telling him that he wants this too.

Kissing Jimin again after five years is like experiencing the same but also completely new, he’s just as nervous, just as excited and scared that this is a dream soon to be shattered. Jimin’s lips are still the softest, fitting perfectly against his.

But it’s new the way he has a piercing now, the way Jimin likes to playfully tug on it. How they’re both much better and experienced kissers, but still trying to figure each other out.

It’s like the universe and the stars align - and they’re finally home. It’s two pieces of a puzzle clicking in place.

Jungkook pulls Jimin closer until he’s flushed against his body as he deepens the kiss, tongues languidly meeting in slow motion. Jimin places a hand on Jungkook’s hair, softly stroking the locks. Jungkook feels warm.

They make out like teenagers, though with more love put into it than anything else. He lets his hands wander over Jimin’s body, from his thighs to his waist. Jimin relishes on being wanted, on feeling wanted.

They only break apart when an excessive amount of fireworks start to go off in the sky, indicating New Year’s. Jungkook laughs, delighted at the sight in front of him - Jimin’s flushed cheeks, blown out pupils and swollen lips.

He barely spares a glance at the sky, because the most beautiful thing in his life is in front of him right now.

“Happy New Year’s,” he mumbles against Jimin’s mouth. “I love you.”

And Jimin only kisses him chastely, resting their foreheads together.

“I love you. I always have.”



They return to Jungkook’s apartment right after that, leaving everything behind. As soon as the door closes, they shed their layers and shoes as they continue to kiss.

Jimin gently pushes Jungkook onto the bed, fingers against his chest. He straddles him, biting his lip to contain a smile.

“Hey,” he whispers, although there’s just the two of them in the room.

“Hi,” Jungkook smiles back, free and lax, looking as just as in love.

They can’t keep their hands off each other, not when this is the start of the rest of their lives together. Jimin presses a dozen kisses to Jungkook’s face until his eyes flutter, the last one being placed on his mouth, sucking on his bottom lip gently.

It doesn’t take long for them to get intoxicated with love and lust, rutting desperately against each other. Jungkook turns them around, gently placing Jimin against the bed. He removes his shirt after a silent questioning, fingers fiddling with the hem.

He worships Jimin like he deserves, covering his chest with kisses. He trails each collarbone, every bump and slump with his lips. He murmurs love notes into his skin, the touch so delicate that has Jimin shivering. He kisses over every single tattoo, every mark on Jimin’s skin - it’s his, to love and cherish only.

“I love you,” he says again as he kisses Jimin’s sternum.

Jimin grazes his nails over Jungkook’s biceps, chanting “I love you” over and over, because now it feels natural to say it just like it is breathing oxygen.

Jungkook takes one of Jimin’s nipples into his mouth, gently playing with it with his tongue. Jimin gasps so prettily as he arches his back, mouth parting in pleasure. Jungkook takes his time because for once, he feels greedy and he just wants Jimin all to himself.

He moves on, trailing further south until he places some kisses around Jimin’s belly button. He knows Jimin is hard as he is, he can feel it, but he stills feels the need to ask. He’d never want Jimin to regret this.

“Are you sure you want this?”

Jimin nods, looking like a wreck already. “I’ve only wanted you, Kook.”

And it’s fire burning through their veins, consuming them and not willing to back down until they clash together for once.

Jungkook proceeds to discard Jimin’s pants, pulling his underwear down with it. Jimin’s cock is pink and even cute, incredibly fitting for him.

He nips and kisses the inner portion of Jimin’s thighs, not wanting to leave one patch of skin uncovered. Jungkook is not very experienced in blowjobs, but he is compelled to try his best for Jimin.

He takes Jimin into his mouth, eliciting the prettiest moan out him.

“Fuck, Jungkook. Shit.”

He is spurred on by the praises, running his tongue around the head and then the underside of the shaft. Jimin’s cock is smaller, making it easy for him to take it as much of him as he can into his mouth.

He could probably cum just from pleasuring Jimin, from listening to his pretty moans over and over, from the way Jimin tugs on his hair out of pleasure.

He decides to let go of it and mouth his way down to Jimin’s balls, lightly fondling with it. Jimin already looks lost in pleasure, whimpering at every touch.

“Jungkookie, I want you. Fuck me, please.”

Jungkook has to take a calming breath to process the words, to what it does to him. He won’t deny, he’s thought about this many times before, but the real thing is far more overwhelming than his imagination. Jimin is beautiful like this, stripped down to his core for him, face shining under the moonlight.

He quickly hops off the bed, shedding his own clothes as he grabs a condom and lube from the nightstand.

Jimin stares at him and suddenly he’s shy, that tinge of anxiety starting at the back of his mind.

“You’re beautiful, Kook. The tattoo healed well,” Jimin points out while he settles back into the middle of his legs.

Jungkook is usually not in the receiving end of compliments, his cheeks burn with embarrassment.

“It’s your masterpiece, Minie.” He decides to lightly tease as he gently prepares Jimin with one finger.

He watches Jimin’s expression as he pumps one finger in and out until he’s relaxed enough to take another two. He’s careful, extremely so, not wanting to hurt him in the slightest. Jimin’s eyes are half-lidded, staring right back at him as he does so. It’s a magnetism that won’t break.

Jimin moans as he’s stretched, the thought that it’s actually Jungkook’s fingers and not his turning him on far more than it should. He cries out when Jungkook deepens the thrust slightly, almost reaching his prostate.

“Want you now,” he whines.

Jungkook removes his fingers, putting on a condom and extra lube. He positions himself, the blunt head of his dick breaching Jimin’s tight rim. Jimin reaches out to him, holding his hand.

“You’re so, so perfect Jimin. I love you so fucking much.”

He can’t hold back the praises as he bottoms out, inch by inch. Jimin takes him so well, his walls tight around his cock and creating a delirious friction.

When he starts thrusting, it’s a long and slow drag, trying to make it last forever. They make love rather than fuck, close to each other, reaching for kisses as Jungkook continues to snap his hips.

He fucks Jimin thoroughly, making him quiver and moan as every pointed thrust at his prostate. And Jimin has never looked this fucking pretty, all pliant under him, his tattooed arms on full display and contrasting with his bare, unmarked chest.

Soon Jimin is crying out of pleasure, asking him to go harder, faster, please until he comes with Jungkook jerking him off simultaneously, the orgasm traveling through his veins. Jungkook tries to memorize the way he gasps in pleasure, parting his lips and how he furrows his eyebrows. He wants a permanent picture of Jimin’s face of pleasure in his mind.

A few thrusts later, Jungkook is spilling inside the condom too, toes curling in pleasure as he moans Jimin’s name.

He pulls out, tying the condom and throwing it into the bin near the bed. He collapses next to Jimin, chest heaving up and down as he comes down from his high.

Jimin kisses him then, smiling against his lips. “Can I move in tomorrow?”

Jungkook pulls him closer, chest to chest. “Like I’m ever going to let you go again.”








Jungkook may have seen all the flowers in the world, watched the moon every night and studied all the constellations in the sky.

But nothing is as beautiful as Jimin’s smile when he finishes to unpack his last belongings, now his things being right next to Jungkook’s.

Nothing is as meloding as Jimin’s laugh, truly happy now, away from the hold his parents had over him. Or when Jungkook does silly things in the morning, just to have him get out of his grumpiness.

Or maybe he really hasn’t found anything as intoxicating as Jimin’s presence around him, like it’s completely necessary for him to live. When Jimin touches him, when Jimin kisses him at night until he feels like he’s floating.

After experiencing the good, the bad and the ugly in the world, Jungkook doesn't really believe in pure, good souls or true love - unless they come in the form of Park Jimin.