Chapter Text
“Are you sure that this is okay?”
Jimin looks over his shoulder at Jeongguk. “I’m sure,” Jimin soothes. He turns back around, trying and failing to ignore the small bit of warmth that surges through his veins as he notices the light pink that dusts across Jeongguk’s cheekbones even under the cover of darkness.
“Maybe I should be at the hospital,” Jeongguk says hesitantly. His voice is small again, and unsure.
“Jeongguk, you look like you’re a step away from passing out,” Jimin reminds him, turning back around. It’s true: Jeongguk looks paler than earlier, even now that he’s out from under the fluorescent lighting of the pediatrics hallway. Jeongguk hadn’t wanted to leave the hospital, hadn’t wanted to be away from Minjun at all, but after not one, not two, but three different nurses came up to Jeongguk and asked which recovery room he was supposed to be lying down in, Jeongguk caved.
Even now, after being literally chased out of the hospital, Jeongguk looks doubtful. He bites his lip. It’s clear that worry still sits heavily on his shoulders, even though Minjun’s not in any danger anymore, and the sight of it makes Jimin’s heart clench.
“Just take a shower and put on some fresh clothes,” Jimin urges gently, “We can go back to Minjun after.”
“You’re right. I’m just… worried about him,” Jeongguk sighs, following along as Jimin walks down the block towards his studio.
They’d taken a taxi this far. It’d been too late at night for Jimin to bother Namjoon or Yoongi to come pick them up, and though he knows he’s going to get the shit kicked out of him for waiting so long to tell his best friends that he’d nearly died, Jimin really doesn’t feel like having to stay up and recount all of the traumatic details without getting a proper night’s sleep beforehand.
Jimin guides Jeongguk to the storefront and pauses. “I know; I’m worried about him too,” Jimin says once Jeongguk stops next to him, looking down at Jimin under the glow of the last remaining streetlights. The sight sort of kicks the air out of Jimin’s chest.
He clears his throat. Honesty bubbles at the base of his lungs, and Jimin voices it. “I’m- I’m worried about you, too. I want you to be safe, at least for tonight.” A second later, Jimin feels his cheeks heat up, still unfamiliar with actually saying what he’s thinking out loud.
But all the discomfort is worth it, because Jeongguk reaches down and takes his hand with no hesitation. “Thanks,” Jeongguk mutters with a small grin, “But you also need some rest. You’ve been through a lot today.” He rubs his thumb over the back of Jimin’s hand, and it sends a shudder down his spine.
“I’ll be fine,” Jimin deflects on instinct.
A scoff slips out of Jeongguk’s mouth. “Jimin.”
“Seriously!” The denial lilts off his tongue alarmingly fast, fueled by the ever-present and worryingly-growing heat that licks under Jimin’s skin whenever Jeongguk looks at him for too long. “I can take the couch.”
The smile on Jeongguk’s face grows, turns more teasing. “There’s no way I’m letting you sleep on the couch in your own apartment,” Jeongguk huffs. He leans against the glass windows that frame Jimin’s storefront, all ease and poise while Jimin is slowly falling apart from the pressure of his stare.
Jimin flushes. “It’s fine.”
“C’mon, Jimin, just sleep with me,” Jeongguk half-whines, and then slams his mouth closed with an audible ‘click!’ The casual confidence drips from Jeongguk’s face like water as he rights himself, suddenly embarrassed. “That’s not- I meant- er…”
Ah, fuck, Jimin thinks as endearment settles in his chest like a warm ember, because he’s in way too deep. Astonishingly, the thought doesn’t scare the shit out of him anymore.
“I know what you meant,” Jimin laughs over the sound of Jeongguk’s increasingly-pained stutters.
Jeongguk groans and drags his hands down his face. “My brain-to-mouth filter is astonishingly low.”
With a shrug, Jimin reassures, “It’s understandable. You’re exhausted.” Before Jeongguk can do or say anything else to make this entire situation more charged, Jimin tugs open the door. “Let’s get you inside,” Jimin says as the entrance bell chimes.
“...do you always keep the door unlocked?” Jeongguk asks, concern riding high in his voice as he follows Jimin, “That seems dangerous.” He locks the door behind him and checks it for good measure.
The gesture makes Jimin want to simultaneously pull Jeongguk in for a kiss and scream from the roof, but Jimin reins it in. “I had bigger concerns when I left earlier. I was trying to get down to the docks before-” Jimin breaks off halfway to the staircase, because he’s said too much.
Jimin’s not sure how he’s supposed to explain how he knew where Jeongguk was, or that he needed Jimin’s help. Awkwardly, Jimin finishes, “Uhm. Yeah.”
It’s quiet for a minute as they walk up the stairs, and Jimin honestly hopes that Jeongguk is too tired to push the issue or catch his mistake. But as they reach the landing for the second story, Jeongguk asks carefully, “Jimin, how’d you know that I was at the docks? I didn’t call you.”
Fuck.
“Intuition?” Jimin lies clunkily. He shuffles down the hall towards his bedroom quickly, like outpacing Jeongguk will make him drop the conversation.
As it turns out, Jeongguk is relentless. Right as Jimin crosses the threshold into his room, Jeongguk grips him by the elbow and spins him around. Jeongguk doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to. The disbelieving pique of his eyebrow says enough.
Jimin swallows hard. “It’s- It’s hard to explain.”
Understatement of the century, he thinks to himself.
“I’m a great listener.”
There’s something in Jeongguk’s eyes that tells Jimin that Jeongguk knows more than he’s letting on. While the beginnings of a nervous sweat breaks out along Jimin’s spine, he jerks his head towards the bathroom door. “Why don’t you get cleaned up first? I’ll tell you after.”
All he needs is some time to think, some time to formulate an excuse that sounds better than ‘your dead brother’s ghost warned me that you were down by the docks, and I listened because we’re actually kind of friends.’
Jeongguk looks skeptical, but the residual stickiness of the ocean’s spray must be uncomfortable enough to have him agreeing reluctantly, “Fine. But I’m holding you to that.”
Jimin watches Jeongguk walk into his bathroom, unable to move or breathe until the door clicks shut behind him and the shower turns on. And then Jimin is collapsing in a heap onto his bed, mind whirling as he tries to come up with a lie that’s just true enough to be believable.
Think, he coaches internally, think.
There’s a small voice in the back of his head asking if this is how he wants to start his relationship with Jeongguk, but Jimin pushes it away. There’s honesty, and then there’s the kind of honesty that could get Jimin spirited away to a psychiatric ward. He’s not exactly willing to roll the dice just yet.
“What’re you going to tell him?” Seokjin asks as he phases down through the ceiling.
Jimin barely manages to stifle his surprised scream. He sits bolt upright, glowers at Seokjin’s suspended figure. “Okay, we’re talked about this before.”
“So I’m guessing things at the dock went well,” Seokjin hums thoughtfully, ignoring Jimin’s protests completely. He casts a glance about the room, eyes searching for something. “Where’s Tae?”
With a wince, Jimin flops backwards onto the bed. “I was hoping that he’d be with you,” Jimin sighs. He bites his lip, already fearing the worst.
Seokjin seems to be having similar thoughts. “You mean you haven’t seen him?” Seokjin asks, voice higher and more panicked than Jimin’s ever heard before. “He isn’t with you?”
“No.”
“What happened?” Seokjin demands. He breezes through the air, pushing close enough that, if Jimin were to sit upright, they’d be nose-to-nose.
Jimin closes his eyes, remembering the feeling of Taehyung rushing to meet him out on the open ocean. “He possessed me and then he just… disappeared.”
“Oh.” Seokjin’s voice is quiet and scared.
It pulls on something in Jimin’s chest, and he pushes himself up onto his elbows to look at Seokjin. “That’s it?” Jimin pushes, willing Seokjin to just admit what Taehyung means to him out loud.
“He might have moved on, then,” Seokjin breathes. His face falls, darkening around the edges as he goes back up towards the ceiling.
And though Jimin already had a feeling that this was the case, it still sends an ache through his chest. Because as much as Jimin bitched internally about having to put up with Taehyung and his demands, Jimin’s house feels substantially more empty without his presence.
“He moved on?” Jimin finds himself parroting.
Seokjin sighs over the sound of the shower running in the background. “I don’t know how to explain it,” he mutters with a shake of his head, “It’s like there’s this… string of energy connecting us to this Earth, but it’s not unlimited. It’s why we can typically only manifest for one person at a time, and even that takes work.”
“So you mean-”
“When he possessed you, he might’ve used up all the energy he had left that was connecting him to this world.”
Seokjin’s words reverberate throughout the room in the quiet. They sink in Jimin’s bones, accompanied by a cold and clawing kind of sadness that rushes through every cell of his being.
Blinking in the semi-darkness, Jimin breathes out, “He’s… gone? Just like that?”
“I don’t know.” Seokjin’s voice cracks, heavy with the kind of emotion Jimin has never seen from him before. He clears his throat, continues, “But if he’s not with you, then chances are he’s already gone.”
Jimin pushes himself back up into a seated position. He reaches out, meaning to put a comforting hand on Seokjin’s shoulder before remembering that he can’t actually touch him. Still, Seokjin’s eyes shine with the kind of gratitude that signals he understands regardless.
“Oh, Seokjin, I’m-”
“Who’re you talking to?”
Jeongguk’s voice cuts the silence of the room in two, and Jimin jumps up so fast that Seokjin doesn’t have time to pull away. Jimin goes cold where Seokjin touches his bare skin, and he just barely manages to hide his shudder.
“No one,” Jimin denies, red in the face as he takes in how soft Jeongguk looks even though he’s just wearing a pair of hospital scrub bottoms. His hair is wet and pushed off of his forehead in the most alluring way possible.
Skepticism colors Jeongguk’s gaze as he sweeps it around the room, looking at the walls and floor and ceiling like they might house a clue. Jimin wants to kick himself for getting so engrossed in conversation that he’d completely forgotten Jeongguk was here too.
“Really?” Jeongguk prompts.
Jimin plasters on what he hopes is a teasing smile on his face and gestures towards the room around them. “Do you see anybody else in here?”
He wants to high-five himself for the professional deflection, but then Jeongguk is whipping his stare up to meet Jimin’s. “Do you?” he asks, low and serious and curious.
The next few heartbeats are dead quiet as Jimin tries to rein in the panic that he feels drop into his system. Think, he pushes, Think think think think.
Unhelpfully, Seokjin snorts, “Busted.”
“Shut up,” Jimin counters instinctively, and then sort of wishes that the entire Earth would open up, swallow him whole, and close over top of his head.
Jeongguk takes a step closer. “What?”
“No, not- not you,” Jimin stutters, taking a step back because Jeongguk’s naked torso and wet hair is not helping him think clearly at all . “I mean, I just-”Jimin shoots a desperate glance at Seokjin, who replies in kind with a ‘you dug your own grave here, buddy’ kind of look.
Jeongguk follows the stare. And then carefully, with no small degree of hesitation, he asks, “Is it… Taehyung?”
Deflect! Jimin’s brain instructs.
He does.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jimin denies. He notices the slight waver in his own voice and prays that Jeongguk doesn’t catch it as well.
But at this point, Jimin should really know better than to hope that Jeongguk doesn’t notice the smallest details. Jeongguk has already proven himself to be surprisingly adept at picking apart Jimin’s every single defense, and there’s no reason why now should be any different.
Right on cue, Jeongguk takes another step forward. He levels Jimin with a look perceptive enough to cut to Jimin’s core and prompts, “Yes, you do. I know that you do.”
A long pause spans the few inches between them. Jimin sucks his bottom lip in between his teeth as he hesitates, seriously weighing the pros and cons of telling Jeongguk everything. He shouldn’t, because it sounds crazy. It is crazy. But Jeongguk was there out on the open ocean. He’s already seen Taehyung once, and deep down, Jimin knows that it’s too late to deny everything and chalk it up to a trick of the light.
Still, saying ‘I see dead people’ is trickier than anticipated. It’s also copyrighted.
So Jimin lets out a long exhale through his nose, rakes a nervous hand back through his hair, and mutters in defeat, “You should probably sit down for this.”
“What is it?” Jeongguk asks. His eyebrows draw together in concern, but he follows Jimin past Seokjin to sit on the bed. “What’s going on, Jimin?”
Jimin wants to tell him. He does . But there’s no easy way to say it, and there’s not exactly a guidebook for how to tell someone that: yes , ghosts do exist; that yes , they are inexplicably a part of Jimin’s day-to-day life; and that yes, one of the aforementioned ghosts does indeed happen to be Jeongguk’s dead brother.
“I-” Jimin stammers, “I- I-”
Seokjin lets out an impatient huff. He crosses his arms and demands, “Oh, for heaven’s sake, just tell him already!”
It’s easier said than done, because right now Jimin can’t feel anything other than the knot that bottles up his throat and tries to keep him from being honest. Jimin chokes on all the words he’s too afraid to say out loud.
But despite that-- somehow, someway-- Jeongguk knows exactly what to say to get Jimin talking. “I saw Taehyung on the ocean,” he whispers in the darkness, taking one of Jimin’s hands in his own and comfortingly running his thumb across the knuckles. “I saw him, and I know you did too. What I want to know is… if you can always see him.”
“I was hoping that you forgot about that,” Jimin sighs. He hangs his head, bracing for the onslaught of disbelief that he’s sure he’s going to receive.
That’s not what happens.
Instead, Jeongguk just sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth. “So it’s true, then? I saw Taehyung? We saw him?” His hand clenches around Jimin’s so tightly that it almost hurts.
Jimin blinks, a little confused by the reaction. Or lack thereof.
“Yeah,” is all he can say. Seokjin nods encouragingly from the sidelines.
Tilting his head to the side, Jeongguk adds, “...but he’s dead.”
“This is true.”
“But you can see him.”
“This is also true.”
“And I can see him.”
“Mhm.”
“But he’s dead!” Jeongguk repeats as the shock finally sets in. “So how? How does this work?”
Seokjin snickers under his own breath. He looks like he’s enjoying Jeongguk’s stunned belief entirely too much. “Yes, Jimin, please be a doll and share with the class.”
And since the truth is already out there staring Jeongguk straight in the face, Jimin lets himself twist to look at Seokjin. “I will exorcise you,” he seethes, “And also, where’s my cat?”
“Chai is fine. And don’t try to get out of this conversation,” Seokjin wags a chastising finger at Jimin.
Jeongguk splutters, looking between Jimin’s face and the blank space that Jimin seems to be talking to. “Jimin?” he breathes, “Who is that?” The tiniest bit of fear colors his tone and pulls Jimin’s attention away from the way Seokjin floats about the room making faces at him.
“No one important.”
Seokjin harrumphs offendedly from the ceiling, but Jimin doesn’t deign to give him the attention he seems to desperately crave.
“Is this like a ‘The Sixth Sense’ thing? Are you Cole in this situation?” Jeongguk bleats out, rapid fire, “And does that make me Malcolm or Anna?” He surveys the room again hastily as he talks, like something is going to jump out of the walls at any minute and eat him alive. Jimin doesn’t blame him; it’s not everyday that you get the news that the man you’ve slept with can actually see the dead.
‘Don’t worry,’ is what Jimin should say. ‘He won’t hurt you.’
What he accidentally says is, “It makes you Anna, probably.”
Jeongguk blanches. “Oh, my god. Seriously? I’m an Anna type to you? I don’t even-”
“Okay, okay, just take a breath,” Jimin coaches, grabbing Jeongguk by the shoulders to guide him. “It’s okay. He’s not going to hurt you.”
“But how does this even work, Jimin? I’ve never heard of this kind of thing in my entire life,” Jeongguk says on a shaky exhale.
With a smile that probably looks a bit too much like a grimace, Jimin offers weakly, “They chose me. All I know is that, apparently, people have this… energy to them. And I guess that mine was stronger than most.”
“Lonelier than most,” Seokjin corrects, but Jimin doesn’t repeat the words for Jeongguk.
Jeongguk furrows his brow as he really tries to understand. “And that means that you can see dead people. My brother included.”
“Essentially.”
It takes a few seconds of Jeongguk worriedly chewing his lip before he asks softly, almost too quietly to be heard over the sound of the waves crashing onto the coastline outside Jimin’s window, “How long? How long have you been able to see him?”
Jimin knows what’s coming, but he replies anyway. “Ever since he died. The very night he died, actually.”
Hurt clouds Jeongguk’s features faster than Jimin can blink. “And you never told me.”
“Would you have believed me?” Jimin challenges, piquing up his eyebrow.
It makes Jeongguk pause. He snorts a heartbeat later. “Absolutely not.”
“There you go,” Jimin shrugs. He catches Seokjin floating around the room, interest in the heart-to-heart conversation rapidly fading, and it just then occurs to Jimin that Jeongguk is taking this better than most ( The Sixth Sense digression aside, that is).
“How’re you not freaking out right now?” he asks. “When I told Hoseok about this, he almost took me to a psychiatrist. Why’re you so calm?”
It’s Jeongguk’s turn to shrug. “I honestly don’t know. Shock, probably. Maybe denial. Just a little bit of delusion.”
Despite himself, Jimin cracks a smile. “Understandable,” he comforts Jeongguk lightly, giving him the space he needs to process everything that’s going on.
And though Jeongguk still looks considerably shaken up, his voice is slightly more level when he asks, “So… is Taehyung here now?”
“Ah,” Jimin starts with a sigh, rubbing along the back of his neck with his free hand as he figures out the best way to explain. “No. Taehyung… he, ah. May or may not have used up all of his remaining energy when he possessed me-”
“Possessed you?!”
“-so I’m not sure that he’s actually still here anymore,” Jimin talks over Jeongguk’s interjection.
Jeongguk’s face falls at the information. “Oh,” he mutters quietly, disappointed. “Who’s here, then?”
Glowering at Seokjin-- who currently sits upside-down on the ceiling, hair falling towards the floor as he smirks at the two of them-- Jimin grumbles, “The annoying one. Kim Seokjin.”
“Tell him that I said it’s lovely to formally meet him,” Seokjin interrupts.
Jimin nods, translating, “He says he’s going to murder you.”
“I hate your fucking guts,” Seokjin hisses as Jeongguk chokes on his own spit.
“I’m just teasing you,” Jimin laughs before Jeongguk can stand and bolt out the door. “He’s practically harmless.”
‘Practically,’ Jeongguk mouths silently, clearly hung up on the word. Jimin doesn’t blame him. Still, though, Jeongguk summons up enough courage to say, “Uhm. Hi… Seokjin-ssi.”
Seokjin looks satisfied at the formality, but he sasses, “I’m up here.”
“He can’t see you, nitwit,” Jimin huffs with a roll of his eyes.
Jeongguk looks somewhat lost at the interaction, but before he can voice any of his concerns, Seokjin sighs dramatically and raps his knuckles on the ceiling hard enough to make the sound echo in the bedroom.
“Holy shit,” Jeongguk breathes as his head whips back to stare at the ceiling, nevermind that Seokjin has already started sinking to the floor again. “You’re not insane after all.”
The relieved admission makes Jimin squawk indignantly. “You said that you believe me!” Jimin protests, taking his hand out of Jeongguk’s to cross his arms petulantly over his chest.
Jeongguk shoots him a cheeky smile. “Seeing and believing are two different things, doll. And I have to say-- super relieved that we’re not crazy.”
There’s so much genuine relief in his tone. Even after the day they’ve had-- after the month they’ve had-- and after all of the shit they’ve been through together, it’s remarkable how Jeongguk still has the ability to make Jimin feel lighter. Even when he doesn’t want to.
Right now is one of those moments, because they’re in the middle of an earth-shattering discussion about life and death, but here Jimin sits-- head tilted back, arms wrapped around his midsection, cackling at Jeongguk’s smile and his words and his sincerity.
Jimin’s eyes are closed with the force of his laughter, so he misses the way that Jeongguk’s expression softens, but he feels the way Jeongguk reaches up and brushes his hand over Jimin’s cheek.
He hears Jeongguk breathe incredulously, “You look beautiful when you do that.”
Still tittering, Jimin protests, “I’m just laughing.”
“But you do it so well,” Jeongguk asserts, and Jimin feels his cheeks start to redden.
There’s that feeling again-- the one he’d felt in the hospital, sitting next to Jeongguk. It’s like he’s glowing from the inside out under Jeongguk’s attention, slowly blooming into a version of himself that he didn’t know existed in the first place.
From the floor, Seokjin gags. “Disgusting,” he remarks with a grimace.
“You can leave, you know,” Jimin says, and then adds a moment later when Jeongguk’s expression twists into surprised confusion, “Not you, baby.”
Jeongguk’s eyes darken at the sound of the nickname, and Jimin knows what’s coming. Still, shivers lance down his spine when Jeongguk shifts closer and says into the room, “Hey, Seokjin, not to be rude but-- could you maybe get fucking lost?”
“The nerve of this kid,” Seokjin grouses, but he’s already levitating again.
“Dead or not, I don’t want him to see you like this,” Jeongguk hums under his breath as he presses closer, closer, closer until Jimin can feel the heat of his bare skin pressing against his body.
Jimin swallows. ‘Like what?’ Jimin means to ask, but finds himself admitting, “He’s already seen me naked before. So has your brother.”
“I am going to selectively ignore that information,” Jeongguk grumbles in dissatisfaction.
And before Jimin can so much as take another breath, Jeongguk is dipping his head forward to catch Jimin’s lips in his own. He kisses Jimin long and slow, deeply enough that Jimin’s head goes all foggy and his entire body starts to relax.
Seokjin makes another disgusted sound in the background, but Jimin doesn’t hear it. He’s too busy pushing Jeongguk back by the shoulders, straddling his waist.
“I haven’t showered yet,” Jimin admits reluctantly in between open-mouthed kisses on Jeongguk’s jaw, neck, and collarbones.
“S’okay,” Jeongguk breathes, voice hitching when Jimin nips along his pulsepoint. “We can just do it in the shower after.”
“Wow, I am exceedingly uncomfortable,” Seokjin complains. He floats towards the ceiling, casting one last ‘I hate you more than words can express’ look back at Jimin. “I’ll just- sit on the roof until you’re… finished?”
Seokjin shudders at his own choice of words. “Fucking kill me,” he mutters under his breath, but there’s no heat in the words as he phases through the ceiling and out towards the roof.
“Is- he- gone?” Jeongguk pants out as Jimin rights himself and tugs his shirt over his head.
Jimin casts a glance around the room. “Yeah,” he says, throwing his shirt across the room. He looks down at Jeongguk lying below him, lips already a little swollen from the force of the kisses.
They spread slowly into a smile as Jeongguk smirks, “Good.”
He reaches up, tangles a hand into Jimin’s hair, and tugs him down hard .
Jimin laughs again as he’s tugged down onto Jeongguk, feeling lighter than air.
Outside, the waves crash against the coastline. The onshore winds push the tide higher, and the beginnings of fog form on the horizon.
But Jimin doesn’t care about any of it, wrapped up as he is in Jeongguk’s desperate hold. He floats above all the noise, all the clamor and chaos, determined to commit Jeongguk’s body to memory once and for all.
So he does.
🌊
Jimin looks at himself in the mirror. The collar of his starched white shirt scrapes against his neck uncomfortably, but Jimin does his best to ignore the feeling. He resists the urge to tug on the tie around his neck to loosen it just a bit. It’s been a while since the last time he’d had to wear a suit, and Jimin remembers all at once why he vowed to never put on another for the rest of his life.
And he’d made good on that promise. Except, of course, for today.
Because Jimin has to wear a suit for the funeral.
It’s only been a few days since Minjun was released from the hospital; it’s only been a few days since Jimin explained the whole situation to a very put out Hoseok, a mildly annoyed Yoongi, and a slightly miffed Namjoon. They’d understood Jimin’s decision to keep them in the dark that night, but that doesn’t mean that they’d left Jimin anywhere out of their sight after that.
Truthfully, Jimin doesn’t mind. It’s nice to have one of his friends hanging around in his studio with him twenty-four hours a day, especially since Seokjin has been spending more and more time on the roof by himself.
Jimin knows why he’s up there. He knows , because Jimin still feels the emptiness in the house as well.
Taehyung hadn’t come back. He’s not going to come back.
Taehyung is gone.
Jimin swallows hard, Adam's apple dragging over the button at the base of his throat. He gives in to the impulse and tugs the tie just a bit more loose. Now he’s here, in Jeongguk’s bedroom, waiting for the funeral procession to start.
“How’re you feeling?” Jimin asks quietly.
Minjun stands in front of him, also looking in the mirror. He’s wearing a small, tailored suit that Jeongguk definitely didn’t have the money for but bought anyway. Under any other circumstances, Jimin would find the sight of a child in such a serious ensemble more than a little humorous, but Minjun’s eyes are red-rimmed from crying, and he looks exhausted.
“Tired,” Minjun mumbles under his breath.
Empathy pangs loudly in Jimin’s chest. Minjun hasn’t exactly been faring well since the accident, but that’s to be expected.
At least he’s mourning now, Jimin thinks, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. At least now he’s processing.
Jimin puts a comforting hand on Minjun’s shoulder. He squeezes lightly, says quietly, “I know. But at least you look good, huh?”
“Yeah,” Minjun agrees. The corner of his lip tugs up into the beginnings of a begrudging smile. His fingers come up to touch the azure silk tie that’s draped lifelessly around his neck. As he traces over the fine weave of the fabric, Minjun’s face falls. “This is Dad’s tie,” he breathes.
Jimin takes in a shaky inhale, forcing himself to be strong. He offers a watery smile at Minjun through the mirror’s cloudy surface. “It looks great on you. I could teach you how to tie it, if you want.”
The first tear makes its way out of the corner of Minjun’s eyes. He looks straight ahead in the mirror, unwilling to let his gaze stray as though he’s afraid of seeing something else of his father’s. The ghost of Taehyung’s touch lingers everywhere in this house-- on the small ‘Happy Birthday’ card on Jeongguk’s dresser that bears Taehyung’s signature, on the ‘K.T.H’ engraved at the base of the door, and on the beaten leather jacket of his that Jeongguk has hung on one of his bedposts.
“Okay,” Minjun whispers. He scrubs at his eyes with his sleeve, dragging away the tears as they fall.
Jimin takes a steadying breath and comes to kneel in front of Minjun. He looks up at Minjun. With his slicked back hair and big, curious eyes, he’s the spitting image of Taehyung. It tugs on something cold in Jimin’s chest that feels suspiciously like grief.
“This is a half-Windsor,” Jimin forces himself to say over the pain. He focuses on his hands, watches as they fumble to knot the tie around somebody else’s collar. “You cross it over the front, loop it around the back, take it to the front again, and then you- uh-”
He thinks for a moment, trying to visualize doing the maneuver on himself.
His pause brings a half-smile to Minjun’s face. “You’re bad at this,” Minjun accuses under his breath.
Jimin wrinkles his nose, though he’s grateful for the momentary lull in the fog of sadness that coats the room. “I haven’t had to do this on someone else since college graduation, okay? Give me a break, you gremlin.”
“You suck,” Minjun snickers.
With a dramatic gasp, Jimin lectures, “ Yah! Show some respect.” There’s no real heat behind his words, because it’s nice to get a glimpse of the worriless kid that Minjun was before all of this.
Jimin attacks the tie with new fervor, desperate to prolong the moment of lightness. “Oh! I got it: you have to pull it through this side, loop it up and around, and slide it back down,” Jimin says. He sits back on his heels, taking in his successful knot. “There you go,” Jimin announces proudly, looking back up at Minjun a moment later, “Did you get that?”
“No.” Minjun piques an eyebrow up as he hums, and Jimin swears that he sees Jeongguk momentarily reflected on Minjun’s face.
It pulls a surprised chuckle from his throat. “That’s alright. I’ll show you as many times as I need to,” he says with a snort, offering a small smile to Minjun in return.
He doesn’t know what exactly in his words triggers the change, but Minjun’s smile melts off his face a heartbeat later. Minjun stares at Jimin, eyes searching Jimin’s face as he looks for something. It’s an expression that’s entirely too perceptive for a ten-year-old-- the kind that always precedes horrible declarations in horror movies, like ‘I see dead people’ or ‘They’re here’-- and for some reason it leaves Jimin feeling like he’s been caught with his pants down.
“What is it?” Jimin prompts. He tries valiantly to keep the anxiety out of his voice.
Thankfully, what comes out of Minjun’s mouth is nothing like Jimin is imagining. “Jeongguk-hyung likes you,” Minjun says matter-of-factly.
Jimin’s grin returns. “I know.” He does; Jeongguk spent all of the last two nights proving it to him.
“A lot,” Minjun reiterates. He nods his head and furrows his brow as he talks, like Jimin should be taking this more seriously. “He thinks I don’t notice, but I do. ‘M not a kid.”
Biting back a snort, Jimin replies, “Of course not.”
If Minjun catches the sass, he doesn’t remark on it. Instead he looks down at his feet, at the polished-black of the dress shoes and murmurs under his breath, “You’re not… leaving soon, are you?”
And Jimin’s breath hitches in his throat. This is another moment-- a snapshot moment that tells Jimin there’s a clear right and wrong answer. But for once, instead of feeling like he’s caught in a panicked slow-motion pull, Jimin knows what to say.
For once, he knows the right words.
“No, Minjun,” Jimin says firmly, “I’m not leaving.” He takes Minjun by the shoulders again and squeezes them just enough that Minjun looks back at him.
His eyes are wide and relieved, but there’s still just a bit of concern crowding his features. Jimin’s a half-second away from taking the leap and asking what’s wrong before Minjun is talking.
“Can I ask you a question?”
Jimin nods resolutely. “‘Course.”
“Do you think that Papa is happy?”
Jimin is taken aback. And really, he should also be cautious, because it was a question like this that accidentally sent Minjun on a quest into the ocean to look for his father, but Jimin’s not afraid. He knows Taehyung by now.
So Jimin takes a breath. “I think…” he starts, staring at the stars on Jeongguk’s ceiling for a moment, “I think that he’s happy that you’re here. I think that he’s happy that you and Jeongguk are carrying on without him, and I think-”
Taehyung’s smile flashes before his eyes right then. It’s the one he’d given Jimin before all of this happened, back when he used to pick up Minjun from the pottery classes.
Jimin remembers how he beamed at the sight of his son, clay-stained and giddy with excitement. Jimin can still perfectly picture how Taehyung would sweep Minjun into his arms, twirl him around, plant a kiss on his cheek.
“I know that he’d want to keep it that way,” Jimin finishes. There’s a lump that sits heavily in his throat, but Jimin speaks past it. “So don’t give up, huh?”
Minjun shakes his head. “But he’s gone,” he sniffs, voice small, “How can he be happy when he’s gone?”
And if there’s anything that Jimin has learned after all of this, it’s that ‘gone’ is just a word. ‘Gone’ is temporary. It’s nothing in the grand scheme of things.
The words come out of Jimin’s mouth before he even realizes what he’s saying.
“Taehyung isn’t gone. He hasn’t left. And he won’t ever leave you,” Jimin reassures. He’s a little surprised at the conviction in his tone, but it feels right. It feels warm.
“What do you mean?”
“He’s-” Jimin nods to the space around them, stretched out with open arms to hold them in the quiet, “He’s around us. He’s still sprinkled throughout our lives: in your memories of him, in your time together. Taehyung is not gone. How can he be, with us keeping him alive?”
A sob, little and soft, bubbles past Minjun’s lips.
Jimin doesn’t hesitate. He pulls Minjun close by his shoulders, holds the back of his head while Minjun wraps his arms around Jimin’s neck and cries.
“I know,” he whispers into the soft silence. “I know.”
There’s a knock on the door.
Jeongguk peers around the wooden door, looking inside. He’s in a suit as well, hair dyed black to match. He looks dead-tired and worn out, but there’s a lightness in his eyes that Jimin’s only seen a few times before.
Jeongguk takes in the scene in front of him, stare softening. “You ready to go, Min?” he calls quietly.
“I just need to grab my coat,” Jimin whispers back as he stands. Minjun moves like he’s going to wrap his legs around Jimin and cling on for dear life, but Jeongguk sweeps in with practiced ease and lifts Minjun into his own arms.
“I’ve got him,” Jeongguk says, “Go get your coat. I’ll see you in the car.”
Jimin nods, wiping his own cheeks clean of tears he hadn’t even realized he shed. “Okay.” He accepts a kiss from Jeongguk before Jeongguk is sweeping out of the room, leaving Jimin in the silence of his bedroom.
With a fortifying breath, Jimin grabs his suit jacket off of Jeongguk’s bed and tugs it on. He checks his appearance in the mirror once before he’s walking out of the room. Behind him, the door closes with a light ‘snick’.
And Jimin means to walk down the hall after Jeongguk and pile into the car to go to the service, but something stops him. It’s just a little prickle on the back of his neck, but Jimin has lived under the guidance of ghosts long enough to recognize by now that nothing is what it seems.
Jimin turns.
He sees the door at the end of the hallway-- the room that Taehyung and Minjun shared. It’s just slightly ajar, pushed open by the summer breeze that sweeps through the house’s open windows.
Jimin’s feet guide him down the hall. They carry him towards the door, nudge it open by the bottom until Jimin can take a look inside.
The lights are off, but that’s alright. There’s a big window on one of the walls, and it lets in enough of the burnt-umber sunset to bathe the room in comforting pinks and reds and oranges. The walls of the room are a shade of sage so delicate that Jimin almost can’t believe it’s a real color.
There’s a kid’s bed shaped like a pirate ship that’s undoubtedly Minjun’s, but the sheets are pristine. It only takes Jimin a second to figure out why. Against the wall across from the windows, there’s a twin bed. The covers are a dark cream and are mussed from use.
It’s Taehyung’s bed. Minjun must sleep in it.
Jimin bites his lip at the sight as emotion swirls in his chest. He takes in the building blocks that are scattered on the floor, the nautical posters that are taped to the walls, and the macrame rope that has a few knots tied into it. Jimin looks at the bookcase filled to the brim with biographies and children’s science catalogues. He notices the row of little lumpy pots that line the windowsill, the byproducts of Minjun’s efforts in Jimin’s class.
Each of the pots has a succulent in it. The prongs and limbs reach towards the setting sun, drinking down the dusk.
And Jimin- Jimin feels the remnants of Taehyung in here. He can see Taehyung in his mind’s eye, sitting on the rug and reading to Minjun after work or playing pirates with him on the bed.
“You did a good job,” Jimin whispers. He scans the room again, takes a shaky breath. “You did a good job, Taehyung, but Jeongguk has him now. I have him, too.”
“You can rest now,” Jimin breathes.
And then he’s retreating from the room. He shuts the door behind him, makes his way down the hall towards the front door.
The house sighs around him, deep and relieved and peaceful.
🌊
Jimin has never had to attend a funeral before. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands or body, so he just stands at the edge of the crowd of mourners, silently grieving.
He looks at Jeongguk, standing to the side of the jesasang, accepting condolences as incense blows past him in smooth waves of sandalwood and frankincense. There are two black bands around his arm that mark Jeongguk as the chief mourner-- he takes the duty of being the sangju from Minjun. It’s a bit nontraditional, but so is the rest of the funeral.
They’re outside, for one, and Jimin’s hair is brushed out of his face by the cool evening wind. The altar is just in front of the cliff’s drop-off. It allows for an uninterrupted view of the waves that lick against the shore below, green and blue in the setting sun.
Jimin stands near the back of the crowd, away from Namjoon and Hoseok and Yoongi. He doesn’t mind their company-- he’s glad that they’re here actually, because Jeongguk needs the support-- but there’s a little voice in the back of his head telling him that he needs some space to process all of this.
The photo of Taehyung that smiles at him from the jesasang cuts through Jimin’s heart like a knife, but Jimin knows it’s probably nothing compared to what Jeongguk must be feeling right now. Hell, what Minjun and his grandmother must be feeling. They all stand near the altar, nodding at mourners as they accept their sympathetic words.
Over the soft murmuring of the crowd and the lull of the ocean, Jimin thinks he hears someone take in a small breath from next to him. The skin on his right arm prickles, and Jimin doesn’t have to turn to know that Seokjin hovers next to him.
They watch the mourners proceed in silence. Seokjin doesn’t seem to know what to say, but that’s alright, because neither does Jimin. The quiet that passes between them is comfortable and warm, and Jimin thinks that it might just be enough.
Jimin doesn’t know how long he stands there watching Jeongguk’s watery smiles and accepting nods, but it’s long enough for the sun to sink lower and lower in the horizon until it offers nothing more than a passing suggestion of light.
“Ah,” Jeongguk starts to say as he comes to the front of the altar. “I know that this isn’t exactly the most traditional funeral, but… Taehyung wasn’t exactly the most traditional person, was he?”
There are a few surprised laughs that escape from the crowd spread out in front of Jimin. Jimin himself is a little confused-- he knows that eulogies or speeches don’t generally happen at funerals like these, but Jeongguk seems to have a lot to say. And he’s been holding it inside for so long that Jimin honestly doesn’t know how he didn’t break down before this.
Jeongguk shrugs, fumbling a bit as he surveys the crowd nervously. “And it- it really means a lot to me that you’re all here to see him off.” There’s just a bit of disbelief coloring his voice that makes Jimin’s heart sink. It sounds like Jeongguk is genuinely surprised that so many people showed up to mourn Taehyung. There are dock workers, acquaintances, and high school friends, and Jeongguk’s widened eyes tell Jimin that this is more than he expected.
Jimin catches Jeongguk’s eyes from the back of the crowd. He offers a small smile, hoping that it’s enough to fortify Jeongguk for whatever it is that he has planned.
Jeongguk takes a big inhale and starts again. “Right, well. I’m not much of a writer, and I know that eulogies are unusual and a bit cliche, but,” he breaks off, gathering himself before he chokes out, “But there’s just so much that I wanted to say to him that I- I never got to say.”
Empathetic murmurs course through the crowd. Some people lower their heads as they wait, silently offering their support for Jeongguk. And though it’s a funeral, and though Jeongguk is standing there looking like he’s inches away from letting out a sob, Jimin can’t quite help but feel a little bit heartened that Jeongguk has so many people in his corner.
So many people rooting for him when he’d thought he was all alone.
“Over the years, I imagined doing a lot of things with Taehyung,” Jeongguk admits, voice low and serious and soft. “I thought we’d sail around the world. I thought we’d go mountain climbing or scale Everest. Maybe we’d manage to steal a forklift together.”
In the lull between words, the dock workers in the crowd laugh wetly. Jimin sniffs as he smiles, the corners of his lips pulling up in the barest hints of a smile.
Jeongguk looks over his shoulder at Taehyung’s picture. “I imagined us being the best man at each other’s weddings. Growing old together, you know?” And then he shrugs, and Jimin feels his heart split as Jeongguk adds, “But I never imagined that we’d be doing this together, Tae.”
Someone in the crowd lets out a quiet sob. From the front of the crowd, Jimin thinks that he sees Hoseok swipe furiously at his eyes, even though he hadn’t really been that close with Taehyung.
But Jimin knows more than most people here about the kind of magnetism that Taehyung had. The joy in his tired eyes, the love he had to give tempered by just enough attitude to keep him interesting.
“Taehyung loved the ocean. Probably too much. I blame our father for that,” Jeongguk chuckles a little. He shifts, straightening out the cuffs of his jackets just to have something to do with his hands as he bares his soul. “And he always had these things he used to say when we were out on the ocean. Some of them were stupid, like, ‘You can’t grow a new starfish without cutting off a limb,’ but some of them- some of them stuck with me.”
Jeongguk shifts, inhales deeply. “I remember, when Dad died, Taehyung took me out on the ocean. He sat me down, looked at me, and told me that people echo. They move like noise in and out of our lives-- loud when they’re here, louder when they’re gone.”
“Well, if that’s true, then the silence you leave behind is deafening, Tae. And permanent.” Jeongguk has to blink rapidly, fighting the same kind of tears that Jimin feels springing to life behind his own eyes as well.
Seokjin lets out a shaky breath from Jimin’s side, his hand brushing coldly over Jimin’s like he’s reaching out for comfort.
The wind slides its fingers through Jeongguk’s hair, pushing his bangs back out of his face. “There will never be anything loud enough to drown out how much I miss you,” Jeongguk’s voice hitches as he speaks, but he shakes his head, swipes at his red-rimmed eyes, and pushes through.
“But I think that’s alright. Because I- I loved you completely, Tae; I’m supposed to miss you. I’m supposed to learn from this-- from you , and… I did. I’m just sorry that it took so long for me to figure out how to do it.”
Jeongguk’s gaze flickers briefly back over to Jimin, settling there as Jimin feels the knot in his throat tighten and tighten. “But if I had figured it out sooner, these are the things I would’ve told you.”
With a quick inhale, Jeongguk breathes, “I admired you, Tae. So much. I did, and I do, and I always will, because you're bright . You’re vibrant, and you’re worth so much more than I think you ever knew. And I’m not ashamed of calling you my brother. I’m proud to be your family, and I should’ve said that more often.”
“I- I missed so many opportunities to say all these things,” Jeongguk laughs then, quietly and just a little bit broken. “But I’m not missing any more.”
He pins Jimin with his stare, holds him in place until Jimin can practically feel Jeongguk’s hands on his waist, tugging him close and holding him tight. We can do this, Min, Jimin thinks he hears Jeongguk’s voice whisper in the breeze. We’re better together.
“So, I guess what I mean is this,” Jeongguk nods resolutely as he takes in the crowd again. “Hug your friends. Suck it up and kiss your crush. Tell the people in your life that you love them, because- because life is short. It’s so fucking short .”
The tears leave Jimin’s eyes freely. They trek down his face, sluicing down in rivulets as something like pride swells in Jimin’s chest. He can’t quite believe that this is Jeongguk-- the same Jeongguk he’d met that night on the beach.
No, Jimin corrects, not the same.
Real.
“Mom,” Jeongguk turns towards his mother as she stands, wavering in the wind. “I love you.” Her eyes are blank, lightless. The absence of recognition in them makes Jimin’s heart clench, but he can’t do anything about it. This, Jimin knows, is for Jeongguk-- what he needs to say for once.
Jeongguk kneels, takes Minjun by the shoulders. “I love you, Minjun,” he says in the lingering gold of the evening.
And when he pivots on his ankles and catches Jimin’s eye, Jimin feels his heart stop beating in his chest.
Jeongguk doesn’t even have to say it out loud. Jimin already knows .
Park Jimin, the look in Jeongguk’s eyes declares, I love you.
Jimin takes in a shuddering breath as Jeongguk stands, feeling weak in the knees from the glance that passed between them.
He can barely make out the sound of Jeongguk’s voice over the pounding of his heart in his ears. “It’s time that I grew up,” Jeongguk admits softly, “Thank you for showing me how, Taehyung. I love you, too.”
Jeongguk takes Minjun’s hand and bows, heading for Jimin through the crowd.
Jimin’s heart is in his throat as he watches Jeongguk come closer, eyes shining with an emotion that Jimin has never seen before.
“Jimin,” Seokjin cuts in before Jeongguk reaches them. His voice sounds thick and heavy, filled to the brim with a sadness Jimin didn’t know Seokjin was capable of.
“Yeah?” Jimin asks, though he already knows what’s about to happen.
Seokjin turns to face him head on. His eyes are red-rimmed and puffy, and he honestly looks reluctant when he confesses, “I have to go. I wanted to stay for the funeral, but I- I’m suffocating here, now. Without him, and I-”
“I know,” Jimin interrupts. He wishes he could pull Seokjin into a hug, but he can’t, so he offers a small smile instead.
“I’m sorry.” Seokjin worries his bottom lip between his teeth.
Jimin tilts his head, feeling the breeze kiss his skin. “For?”
“For everything. Tormenting you, teasing you, leaving you.” Seokjin’s voice catches in his throat, pulled by the weight of truth.
With a shake of his head, Jimin reassures, “I think… I think I’ll be alright, Seokjin.” It’s true; Jeongguk advances in Jimin’s peripheral vision, and Jimin feels a kind of peace wash over him all at once.
Seokjin is leaving, but it isn’t tinged with sadness. It feels right. Seokjin seems to feel it too, because he lets himself smile. “I know you will be. You’re not afraid anymore, Jimin, and-- neither am I. I’m ready now.”
“We can do this.” Jimin’s grin widens.
Its brightness is echoed on Seokjin’s face. “We can. We can be brave, Jimin.”
Jimin brushes his hand against the back of Seokjin’s palm. “We already are.”
The words draw a light laugh from Seokjin. “I’ll miss you, kid,” he says, voice lilting as he starts to rise into the air above. “You and your demon cat.”
“I’ll miss you, too,” Jimin breathes. He looks up at Seokjin, now a few heads above him. His chest pangs briefly, a reminder of all he’s lost and gained under Seokjin’s watchful eye. And for the barest moment, the person who Jimin used to be almost asks Seokjin to say-- almost asks him to give up eternity with Taehyung so that Jimin doesn’t have to be alone.
Seokjin seems to catch the flicker of emotion on Jimin’s face, because he says gently, “You can do this, Jimin. You’re not alone.” He nods back at Jeongguk, who stands just behind Jimin, waiting. “There are ports in the storm. You just have to remember to look for them.”
He rises higher into the darkening sky, further and further away from the earth that keeps him tethered.
“I love you, Seokjin,” Jimin exhales shakily.
“I love you, too,” Seokjin admits easily, and Jimin thinks he’s never seen him looking so free . “And hey,” Seokjin shrugs, “Maybe one day, we’ll meet again.”
Jimin bites his lip, grin returning. “Yeah. Keep Taehyung company until then, okay? Tell him hello from us.”
The smile that Seokjin sends down at Jimin is resplendent, like the poured-out light of the dawn. “Sure thing,” he nods, and then adds:
“Goodbye, Jimin.”
All at once, Seokjin’s image wavers. It turns misty, dissolves into little fractals of light, rising high on the sea air and racing towards the vanishing sun, blowing out to sea in the red-golds of the evening.
And Jimin watches with the wind in his hair and Jeongguk at his back. He tilts his head up, closes his eyes, lets the feeling of letting go fill him completely until he’s lighter than he’s ever been.
In the distance, the last bits of light vanish from the sky as the sun dips below the ocean’s calm waters.
“Goodbye, Seokjin.”
🌊
“Are you sure that they’ll like me?” Jeongguk asks for what has to be the fifth time in two hours.
Jimin casts a glance over to him. The warm dusk light backlights Jeongguk beautifully, cresting over the little worried crease between his brows. Jimin sort of wants to coo, because Jeongguk looks so genuinely nervous in a way Jimin has never seen before.
“Jeongguk, they already know you,” Jimin reassures. He sidles closer to Jeongguk as the onshore winds push against him.
It’s only been a few weeks since Taehyung’s funeral, but the warmth of late summer is already giving way to crisp fall breezes. It’s nice, carries the smell of salt from the ocean, but Jimin isn’t exactly enthusiastic about having to spend the next eight months wrapped from head to toe in parkas.
He’d almost suggested that Hoseok call off the bonfire tonight, but Jimin quickly thought better of it. It’s the last big ‘hurrah!’ of one of the arguably worst summers of Jimin’s life. And besides, Jeongguk looked so excited to finally be meeting Jimin’s friends properly that Jimin figured he had better just suck it up and subject himself to the semi-freezing winds for one night.
The concerned look on Jeongguk’s face, however, tells Jimin that Jeongguk is also having second thoughts. “Yeah, but… they only know the ‘me’ that I’m… not proud of,” he mutters under his breath. Jeongguk bites his bottom lip, tightens his grip on Jimin’s hand as he worries it between his teeth.
Something pangs in Jimin’s chest. These past few weeks have been difficult, to say the least. Jeongguk is back at work by now, and Jimin has taken to watching Minjun for longer and longer periods of time after his weekend classes.
It’s worked out surprisingly well, actually. Jeongguk stops by after work, stays for dinner, and heads home with Minjun in tow. A couple of times, the both of them have actually stayed the night. Minjun has taken to sleeping in Jimin’s spare bedroom with Chai pressed against his side.
Occasionally, they all go to the cave on the beachfront-- the one Taehyung used to frequent. Jeongguk cries every time, but it’s not really sad . It’s heartwarming and endearing and about a thousand other things that make Jimin feel like he’s living in some kind of American Hallmark movie.
But every now and then, Jimin catches the shadows crossing Jeongguk’s face. He sees the lingering grief, the way Jeongguk’s shoulders always slump after a particularly long day. Jeongguk has been going to therapy-- they both have-- but Jimin can tell that there’s still a lot that weighs on Jeongguk’s mind.
Jimin is quick to kiss away the pain or offer a shoulder to lean on, but it’s not always enough. Sometimes Jeongguk fights his demons on his own; sometimes he slips back into old habits. They both do, but Jimin figures that it’s alright.
They’re trying. For Minjun, for each other, they’re finally trying to make it work.
And because Jimin sees a bit of the familiar darkness crowding Jeongguk’s brow, he bumps Jeongguk’s shoulder playfully. “Well, they’ll just have to get a chance to see the new you then, won’t they?”
A small smile tugs up the corners of Jeongguk’s mouth, and the shadows lining his face fade into nothing. It’s a small victory, but one that Jimin is willing to celebrate anyway.
“You’re right,” Jeongguk nods. He cards his free hand back through his hair as they wind down the pathway towards the beach. “You’re right. I’m just-- fuck , I’m nervous.”
Jimin hums empathetically. He leans a little closer, puts his head against Jeongguk’s shoulder for a moment as they walk. “I know. But I’ll be with you the whole time, alright? Say the word and we leave,” Jimin reassures.
He tilts his head to drop a kiss onto Jeongguk’s jacket-clad shoulder, pleased at the little exhale Jeongguk lets slip past his lips. “This is good for us, you know? We finally get a chance to socialize with people other than-”
“Ghosts and children?” Jeongguk quips with a huff. He tilts his head to the side and looks down at Jimin. His eyes sparkle with humor just enough that Jimin feels like someone’s drop-kicked all the air out of his lungs.
They pause at the top of the wooden staircase that swirls down to the waterfront, looking over the edge of the cliffside. “Well, when you put it like that ,” Jimin pouts in faux annoyance.
His antics pull a laugh from Jeongguk, and Jimin wishes that he could fucking bottle the sound. Jeongguk has been doing this so much more often now, but no matter how many times Jimin gets the privilege of hearing Jeongguk laugh in the way that lights his entire face up, he’s never going to be prepared for the rush of affection that swarms his body.
“Alright,” Jeongguk grins. He dips his head down, presses a kiss to Jimin’s forehead. “Let’s go, huh? Minjun’s only with the sitter until ten, and I want to get back home before Mom comes back from her program.” There’s just a small drop of hesitance in Jeongguk’s voice-- just enough to let Jimin know that Jeongguk is already out of his comfort zone.
Jimin gets it. Letting Minjun out of sight is terrifying. Jimin knows that, in the back of his head, Jeongguk is always a bit worried that Minjun will stage a repeat of his solo-sail on the ocean. This is actually the first time in months that Jeongguk has left Minjun with someone other than Jimin or his mother.
His mother , who Jeongguk is worked towards getting into the one wellness program in town. It’d taken almost all of his money, even what he’d received as consolation gifts from Taehyung’s funeral, but Jimin has never seen Jeongguk look so hopeful before.
So, carefully, he asks, “Is everything going okay with that?”
Jeongguk guides them down the steps one at a time, shucking off his shoes once they reach the bottom. “Yeah. It’s been a little bit rough taking over Minjun’s custody since I’m gone all the time, and with Mom not being at home as much, but we’re working through it.”
“Did you tell them that I’d be there to help you?” Jimin asks. He tugs off his own shoes, feels the residual warmth of the day leaching from the sand to his bare skin.
It’s a genuine question, but it still makes Jeongguk pink up a little. It’s endearing how, after spending countless nights together and doing things that would make a nun faint, Jeongguk still gets sheepish at Jimin’s unwavering support.
“I did,” Jeongguk says, “But you don’t-”
“Stop right there, Mister,” Jimin interrupts. He grabs Jeongguk’s arm, spins him around, and plants a firm peck right on his lips. It shuts Jeongguk up like nothing else.
A smile, genuine and bright, splits Jeongguk’s face as Jimin firmly says, “I love Minjun. I love you. I spend time teaching a great kid how to make pots, and you make enough money to support us. There are no downsides. You’re a great provider.”
Jeongguk lets out a laugh as Jimin trails into merciless teasing. He dips down, steals a kiss from Jimin. “Great provider, huh?” he mumbles against Jimin’s lips. “Words that have never been used to describe me.”
With a sigh, Jimin lets his eyes slip closed. He tilts onto the balls of his feet and wraps his arms around Jeonguk’s shoulders. The press of Jeongguk against him is warm, and the way Jeongguk immediately winds his arms around Jimin’s waist is even warmer.
“I’m just teasing,” Jimin whispers against Jeongguk’s mouth just to feel him shudder. “We all know that I’m the real provider here.”
A disbelieving huff fans across Jimin’s cheeks before Jeongguk pushes Jimin away. “You brat,” he teases, but the grin on Jeongguk’s face has turned just rakish enough to let Jimin know he’s going to pay for that later.
Excitement, electric and hot, shoots up his spine. “I-”
“Well, well, well,” Namjoon’s shout from down the beach cuts off the retort on Jimin’s tongue. “Look who it is!”
Jeongguk sends Jimin a very clear ‘this is not over’ look, but takes his hand again and guides them towards the bonfire that blazes in the near distance.
Namjoon, Yoongi, and Hoseok all sit around the fire, bundled up in jackets to ward off the chill. A few beer bottles litter the ground already. Hoseok sports the beginnings of a tipsy blush, and Yoongi is smiling a bit wider than usual.
Jimin bites back a grin. “Hey, all,” he calls as they approach. “This is Jeongguk.”
Hoseok leans back on the driftwood log currently serving as his makeshift bench. “ Hey, Jeongguk!” he slurs merrily.
“H-Hi,” Jeongguk stammers in return, gripping Jimin’s hand just a little bit tighter. He shifts his weight uncomfortably, clearly unsure about how this whole inauguration into the group is going to play out.
Namjoon seems to notice the movement. His gaze softens. “Welcome back, Jeongguk. It’s good to see you again,” he offers with a tilt of his beer bottle.
“Joonie, stop interrogating him,” Yoongi lectures. He tilts across the space between them and slaps the back of Namjoon’s head lightly. “Let the poor guy sit down. Let him take a seat. Let him sit down.” He furrows his brow, confused. “Wait. Wait. Wait. I said that already.”
And yeah, Yoongi is hammered .
Namjoon, apparently the only one here who hasn’t succumbed to the thrall of the alcohol, mutters, “I literally said hello.”
“Jeongguk!” Hoseok calls again, apparently having already forgotten that he’s already greeted them. “Welcome to the party.” He takes another swig from his bottle.
Jimin shakes his head happily, because he’s missed this. Gently, he guides Jeongguk down to the empty driftwood bench that faces the ocean.
As he sits, Jeongguk bobs his head gratefully. “A-Ah, yes! Thank you for having me. I know that you’re not all my biggest fans.” He accepts the bottle that Jimin passes his way without any hesitation, popping off the cap with the practiced ease of a professional.
Hoseok waves his hand in a classic ‘don’t worry about it, buddy’ gesture. “Well, you make Jimin happy,” he says conspiratorially, eyes flicking over towards Jimin. “You’re all he talks about anymore.”
Jimin chokes around the lip of his own bottle. “ Hoseok!” he scolds.
“ ‘Jeongguk’s eyes are so pretty,’” Namjoon mocks. He makes his eyes big and wide, flutters his eyelashes in a way that Jimin definitely does not do.
“Hey!”
Hoseok jumps in again. “ ‘Did you know that Jeongguk has freckles, hyung? They make me want to cry.’”
Jimin points a finger threateningly at Hoseok, firmly ignoring the way all the joking makes Jeongguk’s face light up brighter and brighter. “Okay, I did not say that.”
“ ‘Jeongguk is so good in bed that I think I’m ruined for anybody else ever again,’” Yoongi interjects. Jimin shoots him an ‘ et tu, Brute? ’ glower, but Yoongi just shrugs.
And honestly, all the teasing is worth it, even if it is at Jimin’s own expense. There are worse things than getting to see Jeongguk relax into the rhythm of the group. The tension lining Jeongguk’s shoulders eases as he tips back, bottle raised to his lips.
Jeongguk piques an eyebrow. “Good in bed, huh?”
“I think he said ‘fantastic’, actually,” Yoongi interjects helpfully.
Jimin buries his head in his hands. He’s never going to live this down. “I hate all of you,” he wails, voice muffled by the press of his palms.
“What else does he say about me?” Jeongguk asks as he brings one hand down to rest on Jimin’s thigh. He squeezes lightly, and Jimin’s sure that he sees god for a moment at the feeling.
Hoseok snorts. “How much time do you have?”
“As long as you’re willing to tolerate me.”
The others laugh, but it’s Namjoon who calls, “Well, buckle up. You’re in for a long night.”
Jimin peeks out from behind his fingers just in time to catch the soft smile that sneaks onto Jeongguk’s lips. He looks comfortable. He looks happy, and it makes something inside of Jimin fucking soar .
Because this-- it should’ve been like this the entire time. He should’ve done this earlier, taken Jeongguk to meet his friends to just be easy together.
We made it here eventually, Jimin figures, watching as Hoseok starts animatedly discussing some of Jimin’s Most Embarrassing Moments. We definitely took the long way around, but at least we’re here now.
And in the firelight, shrouded under the watchful gaze of the stars, Jimin thinks for a moment that, maybe, it was supposed to take this long. They were supposed to grow from this whole experience. It had to happen this way. It needed to.
And hell, if it brought Jeongguk here, smiling like this , looking at Jimin like that, then fuck it.
It’s perfect as it is.
The hours of the rest of the night slowly bleed away. Seven turns to eight, eight yields to nine, until Jimin is sitting on the log watching as Yoongi and Hoseok and Namjoon collapse to the sand in a fit of mostly-drunken giggles.
Jimin looks over at Jeongguk, bumps their shoulders together. “You doing okay, big guy? Enjoying yourself?”
Jeongguk takes another drink. He’s still nursing his first beer-- which is something that Jimin is immensely, immensely proud of-- and nods. “Actually, yeah,” he says, sounding genuinely surprised at himself. “They’re pretty great. Even though, I gotta say, it is beyond weird to be watching two of my bosses get stone-cold drunk.”
“Think of it like this: now you have blackmail material. You can get away with murder,” Jimin suggests.
“Or forklift stealing.” Jeongguk smirks knowingly at Jimin, the firelight warming his features until Jimin just sort of wants to melt into a puddle on the sand.
He doesn’t, though. Yet.
“Finally!” Jimin hoots instead. He tilts back on the driftwood log, feels the little buzz building beneath his skin. “It’s about time you added that to your Bad Boy rap sheet.”
Jeongguk just grins down at him. The look makes Jimin feel like he’s lighter than air , even if the rest of what he has planned for tonight weighs in his chest like a stone.
“And what about you? How’re you doing?” Jeongguk asks carefully, because apparently, somewhere between all the angst and near-death experiences, he’s acquired the ability to read Jimin’s mind.
Jimin just shrugs. “I’m okay. Just… building up the courage. With liquor. Which in this case is absolutely necessary and absolutely healthy.”
They both know what Jimin needs to do tonight. They’d talked about it for the last few nights, gone over the pros and cons of the situation until Jimin realized that, essentially, it was now or never.
Still, though, Jeongguk mutters quietly, “You don’t have to do this tonight, Min. You could just sit here and get drunk and let me piggyback you all the way home.”
Home, Jimin thinks as warmth floods his system. But now’s not the time to go over all the implications behind Jeongguk’s words, so Jimin files the feeling away for later.
He shrugs. “I know, but I just…” Jimin trails off to look out to the waves licking the shoreline in the distance. “If I don’t, it’ll just be another thing that’s hanging over my head, you know? And I’m already here, and I’m already drunk. I’m ready, I think.”
“Just want to get it over with, then?”
“Yeah,” Jimin says, hands fidgeting around the bottle’s wrapper. “Yeah. I need to do it tonight. While I have the courage.”
Jeongguk lets out a scoff. “You always have courage, Jimin. It’s irritating.” The teasing is just light enough to buoy Jimin’s spirits, give him the edge of confidence that Jeongguk seems to know he needs. “And I’ll be here after, ready to get you hammered or kiss you until you feel better, okay?”
Affection rushes through Jimin so fast that it almost makes him lightheaded. “When did you get so dependable?” he grouses, like this version of Jeongguk doesn’t make him want to jump him right here, right now, their friends be damned.
“I’m a single dad now, Jimin,” Jeongguk nods sagely. “Dependable is my middle name.”
“I could’ve sworn that you told me it was ‘Danger’.”
“Shut up,” Jeongguk huffs. He leans over, gives Jimin a pat on his ass as Jimin rises to his feet. “Go. Make the call. I’ll be here making sure none of your drunkard friends fall into the fire.”
Jimin brushes the sand off of himself, casting one more glance around all of the people that’ve stuck by him so far. He realizes then and there that he’s missed this-- being easy with people who care about him. It’s lonely without Seokjin and Taehyung, but Jimin doesn’t ever have more than a few moments to feel truly alone anymore.
The people in his life won’t let him. And Jimin honestly doesn’t know how he’s ever going to show them how much it means to him.
“My hero,” Jimin sighs dreamily at Jeongguk.
He isn’t expecting Jeongguk’s smile to soften so much, and he’s certainly not expecting Jeongguk to shrug and say, “It’s about time though, isn’t it? Your back must hurt from carrying this relationship for the both of us for so long.”
“Please,” Jimin snorts as he walks backwards towards the ocean. “I was as helpful as a sack of bricks in the beginning. It’s a miracle that we made it this far.”
Jeongguk leans back on his palm, practically radiant in the darkness. “One I’m thankful for every day,” he calls over the soothing crash of the ocean. He raises his bottle to Jimin, offers him an encouraging smile.
With the warmth that Jeongguk offers him radiating through his chest, Jimin turns on his heel and walks towards the water. Around him, the cool wind pushes his hair back gently. The tang of salt in the air, the cold of the water lapping against his bare feet, and the way his heart thumps in the base of Jimin’s throat remind him that he’s alive.
He can do this.
He can do this.
‘There are ports in the storm, Jimin,’ he thinks he hears Seokjin’s voice carrying on the breeze. ‘You just have to remember to look for them.’
And as Jimin takes out his phone, he has the thought that this-- right here on the beach, the tipsy laughter of his friends in the background, hugging his back-- this is one of them.
This is a port in the ocean, shining bright and glowing softly through the thunderclouds that always try to sweep Jimin off his feet.
Jimin will be damned if he ever lets anyone take it away.
He flicks through his contacts, dials the number that used to haunt him.
It doesn’t feel so scary this time.
And when Jimin gets sent to voicemail, hears that voice that runs through his nightmares, he doesn’t shrink away. He doesn’t back down.
“Mom?” Jimin says firmly. “It’s me.”
“We need to talk.”
🌊
Later that night, Jimin will stumble up the stairs, giggling with Jeongguk before he goes home to Minjun.
Later, they’ll look at the family portrait that hangs above the staircase. Jeongguk will make a joke, Jimin will laugh. Together, they’ll take it off of the hook and turn it to face the wall.
They’ll kiss goodnight.
(Jeongguk will go in for another. And another. And another .)
Later, Jimin will lie in his bed. He’ll let himself drift in the quiet, feeling peaceful for the first time in years with the chains of his past finally loosened from around his throat.
In the distance, the waves will crash.
“You’re alive,” they’ll whisper gently against the shore, a lulling reminder before sleep takes hold. “You’re alive.”
“The rest will come as it may.”