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Jimin has only known Jungkook for a few weeks. As they ride an almost empty train in the middle of the night, miles away from where he used to have a home, Jimin wonders how they got into this situation. He brushes a black strand of hair off his eyes, and looks to the seat next to them, where their bags messily fall on top of each other—underneath, a black leather case. The case where Jimin’s father's biggest deal’ money waits to see the light.
As he glances towards Jungkook, focused on the window, Jimin chuckles. He always looks so innocent, even with all those piercings and tattoos decorating his skin. But at the end of the day, he’s just as corrupt as Jimin himself.
“ Open Sesame, ” had been Jungkook’s introductory line when he appeared at Jimin’s door one day, looking for his father. In that moment, even if Jimin had always thought that his father had chosen the silliest password to let his henchmen in, he decided that it was the best decision his father had probably taken in his whole life. For a long moment Jimin reminisces that exact minute, when their eyes glanced into each other’s, and he felt his world crumble around him. The minute he had decided to let Jungkook’s sweet but dangerous smile ruin his world forever, at any cost.
Back then, Jimin wished he had asked Jungkook to put his father and the other people waiting for him on hold. To let himself get lured into Jimin’s room instead. But, against his desire, he listened to the small voice of reason he still had inside, and let the taller boy in. A voice that, by the way, died pretty soon after—not even 24 hours later, Jimin was rolling around Jungkook’s bed, both of them tangled in the grey sheets and each other’s limbs, the air around them filling with soft whines and the sweet nothings they whispered in each other’s ear.
It had been extremely easy to open up to Jungkook. The younger boy was too smooth, even for Jimin’s slyness—Jimin poured his inside out in front of Jungkook in a matter of a couple of days.
“Wow, Jimin-ah. I think you are incredibly strong, pulling up all those personalities for your father’s business’ sake. I bet you have a persona you put on only for him, too, don’t you?” Jungkook had correctly guessed, the honey-like voice dripping into Jimin’s ears and easily slipping inside him. Jungkook had then grabbed Jimin’s chin with his thumb and pointer fingers, making him look up into his hazel eyes, “But you won’t put one up with me, right? I want to see the real you Jiminie… will you do me a favour and let me see you, huh?”
“Yes, yes—I will. I’ll let you see me if you let me see you ,” Jimin had promised, pinky finger up straight waiting for the other man’s.
“Deal,” Jungkook closed the treat and sealed it with their thumbs and a kiss, so warm Jimin could have melted into it. “Do you ever think of… you know, leaving?”
There it was—the question Jimin had avoided his whole life, for the sake of his father’s business. Always the business. He looked down at his stomach, where his muscles clenched “No… I- Why would I go anyway? To be alone?”
“What if you didn’t have to go alone? What if I wanted to leave, too?”
That’s all it took for Jimin to fall into the trap. Like a hungry butterfly that eats from the mouth of a pitcher plant, Jimin had fallen more and more into the sweetness of Jungkook’s lips and sugar-coated words. “Say the word, and we’ll go,” Jungkook had offered right after.
Under the orange moonlight, with their bodies pressed to each other and Jungkook breathing in the scent of his skin, Jimin had found himself dreaming of the impossible—getting away from his father’s business, stop seducing in more clients for him, grabbing Jungkook’s hand and starting anew far away.
When Jimin had finally made his mind up, finding Jungkook hadn’t been easy. It was always the younger who came looking for Jimin, since he was always out on duty with his dad, whilst Jimin worked only when his father needed him to lure someone in—whether it was a new client, or a defaulter that had to be seduced towards, probably, their death. Jimin couldn’t handle that weight on his shoulders much longer, and he knew that it had to be then or never—as it had been discussed in their last meeting, Jimin’s father was planning on sending Jungkook and a few other men to Japan, to finish a deal with a gang that would most likely end with a blood river.
Jimin had soon gotten to a point where he simply couldn’t handle the situation anymore. He hated his life, he hated everyone involved in the business—including himself, if he thought about it. The only person he couldn’t bring himself to dread was Jungkook. Because Jungkook listened and respected, because he cared, because he made the worries go away. And although Jimin didn’t want to name his feelings, he didn’t want to hide them, either.
Feeling his heart thumping louder than a drum in his chest, Jimin had searched everywhere for the man who had stolen his heart in just a few days. He drove to his father’s business centre, but Jungkook wasn’t there. He ran under the rain to Jungkook’s apartment, but no one answered his incessant knocks. With a lead ball weighing inside his heart, Jimin sat on the doorstep, eyes fixed on the ceiling as cold water dropped down from the tip of his black hair to his back.
“Min?” the saccharine-sweetened voice reached Jimin’s ears. His gaze snapped towards the source of the sound, where a worried-looking Jungkook stood, looking weary and confused about what he should do, “are you alright? You seem… I don’t know, you don’t- seem okay…”
“I’m not,” Jimin chuckled softly, a thousand tears escaping in a puff of air. “Let’s go, Kook. Let’s leave this place behind. Let’s live. I need to stop tiptoeing, and start flying,” Jimin stood up, walking closer to Jungkook and grabbing his hand. Jungkook’s eyes, a dark hazel color, were so big they reflected the universe, “Will you fly with me, Jungkook?”
Now, days later, they’re in this train, with Jimin’s father's money they stole before running away hand in hand resting under their small messy bags, saying nothing and everything at once.
Jimin smiles to himself as he feels his hand being held by Jungkook’s. He squeezes it tight in return, leaving soft caresses where a purple heart decorates his skin. Jimin can act all sorts of ways—he can mold to anyone, and easily attract them into his trap. But Jimin doesn’t need to do that anymore, because, with Jungkook, no molds are needed.
After years of being trapped inside a tight cocoon that his father shaped as desired, Jimin has finally opened the thin layer of silk and is letting his wings unfold, ready to fly.
As the sun rises behind the mountains, the green shades of the tree leaves appear before their eyes like incessant flashes, drawing all kinds of hopeful shapes.
Wherever this train stops, there will be another one waiting for them.