Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

‘I blew it.’

His own heartbeat pounded in his ears, mouth dry as it opened and closed in a desperate search for something, anything he could say to turn back the last three minutes. But there was nothing. Jungkook had just completely blown his audition, and there was no going back now. His voice, usually steady, powerful, and smooth, came out in a cracking squeak at the very moment it mattered most. He stopped mid-note, a cold sweat beading at the nape of his neck in an instant as panic wracked his body. The director’s eyes told a story, one he already knew the ending to. Pity lied in her gaze, a soft furrowing of her eyebrows and tilt of her head that told him everything before she could even utter a word. So, he turned on his heels and fled the room. 

If it had been any other day, this wouldn’t have happened. But, of course, fate always has a way of making things more interesting at his expense. His family dog had passed just this morning, and all the teas and exercises he’d done to aid his vocal chords for today’s audition were promptly undone by the sobs ripping from his throat for hours following his mother’s call. He walked into it knowing that his voice would be strained, but considering he’d been singing nearly constantly for as long as he could remember, Jungkook really thought he could get through a single song in his condition without faltering too much. Of course, he was wrong. He was kidding himself anyway, if he hadn’t flopped the first portion of the audition, he was certain the second would have taken him out too. His singing voice is his source of confidence, his acting skills, however, not so much. Maybe it was better, he thought, to have bombed it early rather than suffering through running lines with whatever scene partner he would have been paired with. Whichever girl in the hoard of hopefuls that would have stood there making him nervous and fidgety. 

Practically flying down the hall, Jungkook turned a sharp corner towards the exit and collided with a body that sent him stumbling back into the wall behind him. Grunting in frustration, he looked up with a fiery glare to see the absolute last person he would have wanted to literally run into right now. Pale pink hair perfectly quaffed as always, glossy lips parted in shock from the interaction, skin smooth and glowing with a light sheen, probably due to the exertions of whatever choreography had been assigned for the dance segment of the auditions. Park Jimin, the theatre department’s ‘it boy’ with the face of an angel and the tongue of a viper. Well, Jungkook had added that last part himself. 

“Oh- are you, uh…you don’t look so good,” Jimin said softly after regaining his balance. 

“I’m fine,” he snapped, pushing past Jimin with a hard shoulder as he continued down the hall. What gave him the right to look concerned now? After all the shit he’s already handed down to him? 

Jungkook’s feet felt so heavy, but he could see the glass paned double doors. If he can just make it there, get to his car, maybe he’ll be able to breathe again. 

Still planted in the hall, Jimin watched him storm away with a softened gaze. Believe it or not, he was trying to help. Something had obviously happened, and despite their usual rapport, he wanted to make sure Jungkook wasn’t sick or something, to ask if he needed help getting to the clinic in case he was about to hurl or pass out. But, hey, if he wanted to shove Jimin away and ignore him, that was fine by him. He doesn’t have time for this, anyway. After acing the steps and earning praise from the choreographer, who just so happened to be his best friend, Jimin was off to his vocal audition. A cluster of fellow students waited outside the room, all muttering and clucking amongst themselves, and Jimin assumed there must be some gossip. 

“ Jimin!” A sharp whisper caught his attention, and he saw Taehyung reaching out for his hand. Taking it, he let himself be pulled into the group and roped into the conversation. 

“Did you hear what happened? Jungkook just walked out of his audition, someone heard him outside the door and I guess his voice totally gave out.”

‘Well that explains it’ , Jimin thought. 

“That’s so unlike him,” Seokjin mumbles, arms crossed. “We rehearsed together for hours, and he nailed it every time.” 

“Some people just can’t handle the pressure,” Jimin says coolly, stretching his neck and shoulders out to relieve some tension. 

“Come on, have some compassion. Feud aside, you have to feel a little bad for him.”

With a shrug, Jimin smooths the folds of his form fitting, black tank top before worming his way through the others to get to the door. He did try having compassion for Jungkook, but he acted like an asshole as usual, so what was he supposed to do? It doesn’t matter now, anyway, Jungkook should be the last thing on his mind. 

“You’re gonna kill it,” Taehyung grinned. 

“Fighting!” Jin calls as Jimin turns the handle and slips inside the practice room. 

He takes his place in the center, a few feet in front of the folding table where the director and vocal coach sat, pens in hand. Offering a bow, Jimin flashes them a smile and introduces himself out of formality. They knew him well already, of course.

“My name is Park Jimin, and I’m auditioning for the role of Mimi.”

“I saw that, but I assumed it was a mistake,” Director Sung says, further examining the folder in front of her. 

“No mistake, this is the part for me,” he answers, head held high and shoulders back. 

“We all know your range is unique, but this could be a challenge, even for you. I had hoped to put you in the running for Angel.”

The vocal coach, Professor Moon, nodded along in agreement. 

“Angel would have been the obvious choice, but truthfully, I wanted to bring something different to the production. Putting on Rent is a risk anyway, why not push the envelope even further?” He explains with a coy smirk, sharp eyes examining their curious expressions. “Let me prove that I’m the best for the part, and if I’m not, cast me as you see fit.” 

“Well, we can certainly entertain it,” Professor Moon says, his interest clearly piqued as he leaned forward in his seat. 

He wasn’t surprised that everyone seemed to have him in mind for Angel, Jimin had always been more fluid in his gender expression than most, the vocal range and even the character’s personality were nearly perfectly suited to him. Maybe that was why he didn’t want it. He didn’t want to do what everyone expected him to do. Mimi was dangerous, exciting, and an exclusively female role, and the thought of making her his own, putting his gay wrench in the heteronormative lead couple, reignited his passion for performing all over again. Why shouldn’t everyone be gay in Rent anyway? 

The intro to ‘Out Tonight’ begins, and Jimin sucks in a breath. 

*

“ Everyone is talking about you, I mean not that people didn’t know you before, but still,” Tae rambles over his milk tea, taking the wide straw into his mouth and letting a few bobas pass through his lips. 

It was true, the second the cast list was posted, all anyone could talk about was the absolute disruption Jimin had caused. Many comments were positive, revering him as some sort of trailblazer on campus, but he’d received an equal amount of backlash as well. From the dozens of women that had auditioned for Mimi, mostly, as well as some parents of other cast members that claimed this was the last straw regarding a musical they were already highly skeptical of. Then there were some who just poked fun at the whole thing, snickering when Jimin walks by with remarks like “ That’s him right? Isn’t he the one who…you know?” Jimin tried ignoring it, he figured this would muck up those rumors again anyway, so he tried keeping his exterior composed and confident, but he was terrified inside. What if, after all this commotion, he doesn’t do it justice? 

His friends all claim this is impossible, his voice has that perfectly airy, sultry quality that’s perfect for Mimi’s songs, and so Jimin focuses on just that. Not on the politics, just the music. Taehyung is cast as Collins, his baritone tailor made for the part, while Jin will portray the lovingly awkward lead, Mark. Thankfully, Jimin has the support of all his closest friends as Hoseok earned the honor of choreographing the entire show as well, the feat acting as his largest, and final, project of his college career. Yoongi always mans the booth, leading his troop of minions to diligently and flawlessly run the lights and sound system. Finally, Namjoon was chosen as stage manager, an immense undertaking that only a grade A control freak like him could accomplish while also completing his degree and writing his own original songs for a mixtape. Despite the controversy, Jimin really had a good feeling about this production. 

The first read through proved that he had surprisingly good chemistry with the guy playing Roger, his love interest. They did a low key rendition of ‘ Light My Candle’ that had the room erupting in whooping cheers.  

While the actors rehearsed, the tech crew began erecting the set, building piece by piece nearly from scratch. Namjoon was meticulous, and determined not to use any wooden framed canvases as walls. He wanted the set raw and sturdy, and anyone’s skepticism faded fast when he arrived one day with a truck bed full of scaffolding he’d rescued from a dump. The metal structures needed a little TLC, but they’d be perfect for the exterior of the apartment building where several scenes take place. 

Jimin was on cloud nine, striding into the auditorium with a bright smile as black clad techies swarmed around him, presenting props and costumes for his approval. He was especially chipper today, as they’d be running through ‘La Vie Boheme’ on stage for the first time. Many of the songs held a special place for Jimin, but this one was just fun , it captured the sort of rowdy, defiant energy that he and his friends exuded. Maybe they hadn’t mobbed up to a restaurant and danced on the tables, but they still had the decently queer, rambunctious rebel act down pat. He’d even worn his combat boots to feel the part, even if they were nowhere near dress rehearsals. So, imagine his dismay when he comes face to face with Jungkook, drowning in a black hoodie three sizes too big, his downcast eyes averting Jimin’s. 

“What are you doing here?” He asks, the irritation is his tone made very clear. 

“I convinced him to do tech, y’know, be a part of the show however he can,” Namjoon swoops in before Jungkook can answer for himself. 

“Fantastic,” Jimin says in near deadpan.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to stay out of your way,” Jungkook snaps, his gaze finally meeting Jimin’s, who just offers him a smug little grin. 

Unfortunately for him, avoiding Jimin becomes an impossibility. As the days pass, Jimin gets exceedingly brave in treating him like some sort of servant. Jungkook finds himself hammering away at a road sign for the set when he hears a high pitched, snide voice calling to him. 

“Oh, Jungkookie! I need a hand!”

Huffing, he stands and shuffles downstage, approaching Jimin with a flat, “What do you want.” 

“I want to try using a fan for this scene, but I left it in my dressing room. Do you mind?” His face looks so sweet, but Jungkook knows what he’s playing at. Fine, he’ll play along too then. He goes to the dressing room, one that Jimin shares with two other actors as they don’t have enough space for every lead to have their own, and quickly spots his cluster of belongings piled on one of the vanities. His name is bedazzled on two of his ridiculously overfilled makeup bags, and Jungkook scoffs. He spots the fan, then sees an open glass bottle of some sort of serum that looks expensive. Hoping it is, Jungkook flicks his finger out to tip the bottle over, letting the contents spill over the edge of the vanity and onto the floor.

“Shouldn’t have left the cap off again, Jiminie,” he mutters to himself. 

Later, Jimin is furiously scrubbing at the purple rug beneath his vanity, where an enormous oil spot has formed, cursing under his breath. He always forgets to put the cap back on this one, and now he’ll have to buy more. A little thought floats at the back of his mind, remembering that Jungkook came in here earlier.

“Did he..?” He wonders aloud. He shakes that thought away, he couldn’t just accuse him outright anyway. No, this situation calls for a little more tact.

So, the next day, Jimin’s throat is parched and Jungkook just happens to be near his water bottle. “Bring it here, will you?” He chirps, looking down at Jungkook from where he stands on a table in what will eventually be the restaurant scene. 

The day after that, his feet are apparently hurting and the only thing that will help is an herbal ointment from a particular store across town. “I’d ask someone else, but I know you have a car,” he says, innocently batting his eyelashes. Jungkook’s tongue pokes the inside of his cheek, a tell-tale sign of his irritation that makes the corners of Jimin’s lips twist up in a sly grin. 

When Jungkook snatches his keys and leaves the auditorium, Namjoon approaches. 

“Is there a reason you’re treating him like your personal assistant?”

“Am I?” Jimin feigns as he picks a stray hair from his shirt. 

“Jimin-ah. Isn’t it time to put this aside? How long are you gonna hold this grudge, huh?” He says, voice cautiously gentle. 

“I’m not the one holding a grudge, why don’t you say this to him?”

“He says he’s not holding one either.”

Jimin snorts, “Oh sure.”

“Can you just ease up a little? If you can’t get along, just ignore him like he’s ignoring you.”

“Hmph,” he grunts, a dispassionate agreement. He wants to say Jungkook doesn’t deserve to be left alone, but maybe Namjoon is right. A year-long feud isn’t worth jeopardizing the show. 

Jungkook is thankful for the absence of petty requests, he’s able to continue painting a cracked concrete facade onto styrofoam blocks uninterrupted, which he actually enjoys. Of course, he’d rather be belting his heart out, but at least he doesn’t want to quit altogether anymore. Namjoon was insistent on his involvement, even if all Jungkook wanted after that dreadful day was to bury his head under his covers and get through the rest of the semester pretending this whole musical didn't exist. But this is fine too. Even more fine now that Jimin is steering clear. 

Of course he heard the whispers starting back up, and where resentment had made a home in his chest for this long, pangs of guilt began weaseling their way in to mess it all up. No matter how many times he tried convincing himself that the whole thing wasn’t his fault, none of it would have happened if he’d kept his stupid mouth shut. Yet, every time he looks at Jimin with an apology on his lips, he gets even angrier. Why should he have to apologize when Jimin never has? 

*

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Jimin sinks to the waxed hardwood floor of the practice room, collapsing with a deep sigh. 

“Call it a day, alright? No pushing yourself,” Hobi said, as stern as he ever gets. 

“No, no, just one more,” Jimin argues, chest heaving. 

“You’ve got it down, don’t hurt yourself. We need to wash up if we’re gonna make it to Yoongi Hyung’s anyway.”

Jimin could feel that dull throbbing spread through his calves already. Standing up would be a painful venture on its own, let alone trying to run through his steps again. Nodding in defeat, he grabbed Hobi’s outstretched hand and accepted his help in getting up, slowly but surely making his way down a level to the showers attached to the gym. He wouldn’t have time to go home first, and he’d already brought a change of clothes anyway, even if the locker room showers weren’t ideal. 

Only a few students loitered around this time of day, so at least it won’t be crowded. But when he swung the door open and took a few steps down the hall, voices halted his movements. 

“-always thought he was a slut, just look at him,” one says.

“Well yeah, how else did he get that role? It’s just like last year with that professor’s aid.” 

“Shit, I forgot that was him,” another chuckled, “Who do you think he let fuck him this time?”

Jimin was about to make a run for it when another voice came booming into the room, echoing off the metal lockers in a sharp fury. “Why don’t you just shut up?!”

‘Is that…Jungkook?’ Jimin thought as he pressed himself against the wall and tried to breathe quietly. 

“Why do you care, Jeon? Don’t you, like…hate him?”

“No, I just- it’s none of your business. Just stop spreading shit, alright?”

“Relax, man,” another laughed dismissively, and Jimin figured this was as good a time as any to make his grand entrance. He strode around the corner, bag slung over his shoulder as he met the eyes of each of the three idiots that had been talking about him in such a derogatory way just moments ago. Their jaws go slack, and Jimin loves the sight. 

“Hope I’m not interrupting. Though it didn’t seem like you were talking about anything important, anyway,” he said with a raised brow and pursed lips. His eyes flashed to Jungkook just for a moment, who stood with only a towel wrapped around his hips, equally gobsmacked by Jimin’s presence. 

“J-Jimin, we were just-”

“I know everyone loves a good story, but don’t you have anything better to do than speculate about my sex life? Oh, and if you have doubts about my talent or integrity, why don’t you come sit in on a rehearsal? I’d love to get notes from a group of film major virgins.” 

Jungkook snorted, and the other three scrambled to get their belongings in order, offering small bows as they mumbled weak apologies and fled. Jimin felt triumphant for just a moment, until he realized he and Jungkook were now alone. 

“I suppose you want me to thank you or something?” Jimin sneered. 

“No, I-”

“You know they wouldn’t have anything to say if it wasn’t for you right?”

That felt like a knife to Jungkook’s chest. He’d never been able to explain. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, it's just that every time he tried his throat closed up. 

“Forget it, what’s the point in hashing this out now,” Jimin said, throwing his bag down on a bench and heading for the rack of clean towels. 

Jungkook wanted to open his mouth, but he didn’t even know where to start. He was searching for the right words when- “I don’t even know why you tried to shut them up, weren’t you loving that? Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Is that seriously what you think?” Jungkook shot back, eyes widening. 

Jimin slid his shirt off, moving so casually towards an empty locker to hang it in before finally turning to look at Jungkook with a nearly blank expression. “What else would I think?”

“You never even bothered to ask me what happened, you barely talked to me at all.”

“Oh, so it’s all my fault? There was a perfectly reasonable explanation, I just didn’t let you tell me, right?” Jimin’s eyes darkened as he closed in, taking step after menacing step towards Jungkook and forcing him back against the opposite wall of lockers. The cold metal against his bare back made him wince, eyes locked in Jimin’s piercing glare. 

“Say it now then,” he said. 

“I…I didn’t mean to tell anyone. I was only talking to Tae and someone overheard.”

“I don’t believe you. You don’t have to pretend it was innocent, Jungkook, our friendship has been over for a long time now. I know you were angry with me after I took your solo, and you got back at me by telling everyone what you thought you saw. Not that the truth matters now anyway.”

‘What I thought I saw? What does he mean by that?’

“Like I said, just forget it. I’ve accepted that it’ll follow me around until I graduate. But I’m sure you’ll get more solos. Unless you choke again,” Jimin added, twisting the knife. Jungkook clutched his shoulders and spun him until Jimin’s back slammed against the locker, then leered over him with a scowl. 

“Shut up,” he growled through gritted teeth. 

Jimin simply laughed, that light, melodic mocking that drove Jungkook crazy. The way his plump lips parted in amusement, eyes squinting into little crescents. He realized somewhere amidst his anger that his forearm was pressing against Jimin’s collarbones, their faces merely inches apart. Tension settled heavy in the air, and Jungkook felt it overwhelming his lungs until he pushed off of Jimin and stumbled backwards. 

“Namjoon-yo asked nicely, so I’ll stop bothering you during rehearsals. Just do me a favor and quit pretending you feel bad for me.”

“I do regret what happened. Not that it’s stopped you from getting everything you want,” Jungkook said, then immediately cursed himself internally. He couldn’t just say he regretted it, could he? That vitriol still seeped out. 

“If that’s what you think,” Jimin just shrugged, “Now can you just leave before you see something else you want to spread around campus?”

“Why, are you meeting someone else here?” Jungkook scoffed. 

“Get out,” Jimin said almost quietly, no hint of smugness or even anger. Jungkook realized the only thing written in his expression was hurt. “Just get out.” 

Quickly sliding his clean pair of sweats on under the towel, Jungkook snatched up his bag and shoes and stormed out, slamming the door to the locker room behind him. Jimin slumped against the locker and buried his face in his hands, digging the heels of his palms into his sockets to stop welling tears from spilling over. 

*

Jimin wouldn’t so much as glance Jungkook’s way after that. Converse to his earlier antics, he now went out of his way to ask any techie but Jungkook for any favor he may have needed. For days after the locker room, Jungkook replayed the whole thing in his head, pinpointing every moment in which he said exactly the opposite of what he really wanted to say. He felt rotten inside, he’d gotten so easily stirred up by Jimin’s words that he threw out the thing he knew would hurt him the most. 

But he couldn’t accept that he was the only one expected to grovel in this situation. Jungkook hadn’t just lost the solo back then, he then lost all his friends, and now he’s lost his dog and yet another opportunity to prove his talent to the rest of the department. Namjoon and the others insist he hasn’t actually lost them, but what is he supposed to think when they always choose Jimin just because the two of them can barely stand to be in the same room? He never sees Tae anymore, and when Yoongi or Jin hang out with him he feels like he’s being kept as some dirty secret, like they’re telling Jimin they aren’t actually with him or something. Maybe that’s why he can’t just apologize, at least not until Jimin takes some accountability too. 

Director Sung walks across the stage then, standing before the cast and crew with her hands clasped together and a serious look in her eyes. She clears her throat and soon everyone’s attention is on her. 

“I have some bad news. Mr. Lee has dropped out of the show.”

Gasps roll through the auditorium, and Jungkook looks to see Jimin’s mouth agape in genuine surprise. Lee Doyun played Roger, opposite Jimin, and had no understudy. None of them did, really. 

“There was a personal…issue, and he felt he was unable to continue. I will be holding another audition for Roger on Friday. If you’re a member of the chorus, feel free to try out, otherwise just spread the word to anyone who may want another shot. Additionally, I’m setting a new ground rule.”

Cast members glanced between one another, but no one figured it was anything to take too seriously. Truthfully, Director Sung doesn’t take anything seriously, she’s always joking around and goofing off as much as any student. 

“Listen up, and I mean this, okay?” She started, “I know some of you already have relationships, and that’s fine, but starting today, there is no fooling around among the cast and crew, got it? If I lose any more actors because they got dumped, I’m screwed, and therefore all of you are also screwed. Just keep it in your pants until closing night. No showmances.”

A few people snicker, which makes the director’s lips stretch into a thin line, “I’m sure you guys think this is funny, but I’m really putting my foot down here. I have spies, and if I find out anyone is fooling around in this production, there will be consequences.”

“ Okay but like…if she doesn’t want to lose people, why is she threatening to take people out of the show? Isn’t that counterproductive?” Tae whispers into Jimin’s ear. 

“I heard that, Kim. I didn’t say that was the consequence did I?” 

“Then…what will you do?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she smirks, then turns her attention to another cast member with a question. 

“ Okay but…what if now that it's forbidden, I kind of want to hook up with someone…? Like, it's kind of sexier now, right?” Tae whispers again. Jimin rolls his eyes and shoves him off. 

*

On Wednesday, Jimin is left alone on stage. Everyone else has called it a night, and Namjoon left him the keys to lock up with. He just wanted to practice one particular song a bit more. Queuing the music up on his phone, ‘Without you’ begins to play, and he takes center stage. His voice lightly echoes in the empty space, reverberates off the half built structures behind him, and carries to the back walls where the last row of seats lie. It floats up to mezzanine, haunting and heartbroken, just as the song calls for. 

“Without you…the seeds root, 

The flowers bloom”

Jungkook was organizing Jin’s prop cameras far backstage before heading out, not realizing how much time had passed until he stepped out to the sound of a lone singer. He knew the voice of course, he’d know it anywhere. Lingering behind a heavy velvet curtain in the wings, he just listened. Honestly, he couldn’t have moved even if he wanted to, there was a palpable solemnity holding him eerily still as he just absorbed the notes. 

‘Without you…The Earth turns

The sun…burns

But I die,

Without you…”

He didn’t understand how Jimin managed to portray such emotion in just his voice alone. He’d heard the song countless times now, when Jimin hummed it during rehearsal breaks, when he obsessively watched the movie alone in his room as a closeted fifteen year old, when he listened to the soundtrack over and over leading up to the audition. How was it that only now did it nearly bring him to tears? 

He must have moved or made a sound, because Jimin’s voice cut off with a small squeak, and he spun around to scan the stage for any sign of life. 

“Who’s there?” He called, clutching fistfuls of his too-long sweater sleeves. 

Hesitantly, Jungkook peeks out from behind the curtain with an awkwardly sheepish smile. “Uh sorry, I was just leaving…”

Jimin’s face sours immediately. “Oh, it’s you.”

“You um…sound great.” He said, the compliment weighing on his tongue like led, and tasting just as poisonous. 

“Thanks?” Jimin responds with a cocked hip and high level of sass. “Are you leaving or what?”

Jungkook knows he’ll regret the next thing that comes out of his mouth, so he decides blurting it out is the best course. “Canyoupleasehelpmewiththeaudition.”

“Excuse me?” Jimin asks with genuine confusion. 

“Can you…help me with the audition? I’ll have to read a scene with you anyway.” 

“Me? Help you?” he laughs as if it's the best joke he’s heard all day. 

“Yeah, yeah, I understand we have a lot of history and everything, but…” Jungkook takes a deep breath, preparing for another bitter taste, “You’re the only person who can really help me.”

“Why do you even need me to? I know what your voice sounds like, you should be fine.”

“But you sing with so much emotion, and I’m not as confident about the acting part.” 

“Why should I? Wouldn’t it be in my best interest not to help you? Why would I want you to be the person that I have to pretend to fall in love with, kiss on stage?”

‘Shit, he has a point.’  

“I hadn’t thought of that…maybe…I don’t know, don’t you want the best person to get the part?”

“And you’re the best?”

“I could be.”

Jimin’s eyes narrow, scanning his face with intense scrutiny. He’s clearly weighing his options, and Jungkook can do nothing but stand there like a cow at an auction, hands at his sides as he does everything in his power not to fidget. 

“I’ll listen to 16 bars. And run through the scene with you. Once.” 

“You know what, if you’re gonna act like some Hollywood executive about it, don’t bother-”

“Ugh just sing already,” Jimin interrupts, perching on a folding chair and crossing his legs. 

Jungkook wants to scream. Instead, he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for a moment, centering himself and trying to overcome the awkwardness of singing in an empty auditorium with no music in front of his used-to-be friend turned mortal enemy. Yeah, this is fine. 

‘One song,

Glory,

One song…before I go,”

Jimin’s gaze softens, just slightly. He realizes then how long it's been since he heard Jungkook sing. Something uncomfortable squeezes his heart, and he shifts in his seat, grazing over Jungkook’s closed eyes and peaceful expression. He always closes his eyes when he sings, Jimin remembers. 

When the verse is over, 16 bars to be exact, and Jungkook’s voice fades, Jimin clears his throat and stands abruptly. “Well,” he begins, “I honestly think if you hadn’t blown it the first time around, you’d have been fine.”

“No notes?”

“On stage, you can’t close your eyes like that, you know. Especially during songs that we’d…sing together. You’d have to look at me.”

“I will.” 

A moment passes, a silent one where they’re just staring at each other and gulping. Jimin breaks it by rasping out, “Let’s just do the lines tomorrow.”

“Can’t you run through it more than once?”

“We’ll see,” Jimin says, and Jungkook swears he was being a little playful. Cute and funny and playful, the way he used to be with Jungkook all the time. It’s strange to see a glimpse of that when he’s spent a year with a cold and fierce version of Jimin that he hadn’t even known existed until ‘the solo incident’. 

Jungkook just nods and they go their separate ways. 

*

For some reason, Jimin finds himself tapping all day. Through his classes, his pencil is thumping against his desk, through his acting workshop, his foot is drumming against his chair leg. Why is he so anxious? It isn’t until he’s swinging open the stage door that he realizes, ‘Of course’ , he’s running lines with Jungkook before rehearsals. Why else would he be feeling like this? 

Jungkook is already here, sprawled across the stage floor on his stomach, tongue poked out as he scans over the page in front of him, memorizing. Jimin hangs back and watches for a moment as Jungkook hums the melody of ‘I should tell you’.

“Hey.” 

Startled, Jungkook flops over and scrambles to his feet, drawing a small chuckle from Jimin.

“Uh, hi,” he says back, reorganizing his script. 

“No, I mean ‘Hey’. The scene?” Jimin waves his own script pages in front of Jungkook’s face. 

“Oh! We’re starting now. Okay,” Jungkook clears his throat, relaxes his shoulders, yet his posture oddly stiffens. His back is too straight, feet a little too far apart. 

“So is that what you look like when you see someone you’re about to ask out?”

“W-What?”

“Roger offended Mimi, and now they’re meeting again and he wants to make things right and ask me out. Did you read the scene or what?”

“Right, yes, I read it,” he recovers quickly from his near heart attack, but Jimin makes it worse all over again when he comes close and kicks his feet together, pressing a hand to the small of his back. “Just stand casually. Be yourself. You can infuse your own emotions and experiences into the scene. It looks a lot more natural if you do.” 

“Ah okay.” Jungkook says quietly, shifting his weight to one hip and clasping his hands together. “I think…if I were Roger, I’d be a little closed off. Like I’m here taking this risk, but I feel vulnerable because I’ve been burned before.” 

Jimin hums and nods, returning to stand in front of him. His entire demeanor shifts, his hips loosen, his eyes grow heavy and dangerous like a siren examining its prey, and he crosses his arms delicately. It’s amazing how much he changes with a few little movements. 

“Ready?”

Jungkook nods, giving his script one more glance before he lets the paper fall to his side. 

“Hey,” he starts, looking down at the ground at first. 

“Hey,” Jimin echoes, his voice a little lighter, just barely more effeminate than his usual tone. 

“Look, I just want to say I’m sorry for the way I-”

“Forget it,” Jimin interrupts, turning away a bit as his face falls. Jungkook swallows hard and takes a tentative half step forward. 

“I was outta line. Can I make it up to you?”

Jimin turns back then, eyes widened and glittering, “How?”

“A dinner party. At the cafe, after Maureen’s show.”

“Sure. I’d like that,” Jimin practically whispers, hand reaching out a little, fingers dancing in the air as they search for Jungkook’s. Before they bridge the gap, Jimin suddenly steps away again and says, “Scene,” as if it were all too easy to break out of the mood they’d set. 

Jungkook has to physically shake it off, coming back to reality. “So?” He asks. 

“Work on your pauses. When you’re being vulnerable like Roger is in this scene, you wouldn’t say everything in neat sentences, right? You’d break at awkward moments, maybe even stumble over your words. You stutter sometimes, don’t suppress that in a scene like this.” 

“I don’t stutter that much anymore,” He snaps, and Jimin snickers. 

“Lucky for you, Rent is one of those musicals that doesn’t actually have that much dialogue outside of the songs. You’re good at expressing yourself when you sing, so you might just make it through this.” 

“Wow, was that an actual compliment?” Jungkook teases. 

“Don’t get used to it. We can run it through one more time before everyone else starts getting here.” 

Jungkook agrees and actually smiles. And Jimin actually smiles back. 

*

His nerves are double what they were for the first audition. Jungkook already knows what it feels like to fail in this exact room, for this exact song. He walks in and stands before Director Sung again, just like last time, and she gives a soft little smile. 

“I’m glad you’re back, Jungkook, really.”

“T-Thank you,” he says, a little caught off guard by that. Then, the door opens again and Jimin strides in, chelsea boots clacking on the floor as he moves to take a seat next to her. 

“I hope you don’t mind, I asked Jimin-ah to sit in on the auditions.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Jungkook mumbles. 

“We’ll start with the song and then you two can perform the scene, sound good?”

He nods, and Jimin picks up the remote for the speaker, clicking the play button, and Jungkook begins to sing. 

16 bars later, Director Sung is clapping for him. “I knew last time was just a fluke, you have a beautiful voice!” 

Jungkook bows and thanks her, a smile creeping onto his lips as tension releases in his chest. 

“You know, I would have let you start over, right? I didn’t call you back in because you left without trying again. If I don’t see the drive, I won’t waste my time. But I think I see it now.”

“I won’t let you down again. If you choose me, of course,” he says with another bow. 

“Shall we move on then?” She beams, gesturing for Jimin to join him. This time when he stands in front of Jungkook, there’s almost a kind look in his eyes. 

‘Thank you’ , he mouths silently. Jimin just stares, offering a small nod before Jungkook begins the scene. 

It takes an hour after all the auditions are finished for Director Sung and Jimin to exit the practice room and address the crowd awaiting their decision. A good portion of the cast has joined to hear the news, Jin shooting Jungkook two thumbs up and a goofy grin, while Tae averts his eyes. It hurts, but Jungkook has grown used to it now. 

“Jimin-ah helped a bunch, and actually once I narrowed it down, I let him make the final decision. As long as I agreed with it, anyway,” she snorted. “Do the honors?”

“Me? Uh, sure,” Jimin looked out at the group, twisting one of the several rings on his fingers. Of course she’d sacrifice him to the pack of hungry wolves. 

“In the end, I- uh we…chose Jeon Jungkook.” 

Jungkook’s lips fell open. He’d hoped, of course, but when he heard that Jimin made the call, he was sure it’d be someone else. He was sure Jimin would never have actually chosen him. 

Jimin didn’t look at him, he just bowed and headed down the hall towards the stage door. 

*

“I know you have a lot of catching up to do, which is why I’ve blocked some time for you and Jimin to run through some things on your own. We’ve got chemistry to build- though not too much, of course. Remember the rule.” Director Sung’s eye actually twitched as she glared the two down, “If I have to recast someone else I will burn this theatre to the ground. Now have fun!” 

Then she was gone, leaving just Jimin and Jungkook in the practice room with the assignment of drilling ‘Light my Candle’ until they could no longer physically stand. 

The moment the music started and Jimin was closing in on him with all that flirtatious ‘Mimi energy’, Jungkook stumbled backwards into the grand piano, his butt pressing at least five keys. 

“Okay you’re gonna have to get used to being close to me. And quickly. You’re already behind, and if you don’t catch up, you’re going to make me look 

like an idiot up there.” 

“Sorry, you just came in a little hot.” 

“Well, yeah Mimi is trying to jump Roger’s bones. And also find her drugs.” 

“Right.”

“There’s uh…an exercise I did with the Doyun at the beginning that helped with this. Of course he and I didn’t hate each other, so it might not work as well.”

“Do you really hate me?”

Jimin blinked for a few seconds, hesitating before stammering out, “Uhm, I- No, I guess that’s a strong word. But don’t think that because we’re working together, everything is suddenly fine.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Jungkook smirked at him, and something deep in his mind remembered what it felt like to find Jimin charming. “What’s the exercise?”

“Step one is to sit kind of close and stare at each other for five minutes.”

“That doesn’t sound too hard.”

“Five minutes feels like ten years, but it can be helpful, I guess. Then we’ll uh, move on to the next step.”

Jungkook sits on the piano bench, and Jimin pulls up a chair. Their knees brush and Jimin flinches, but doesn’t move back. When they look at each other, Jungkook feels the immediate urge to look away. 

“I’ll set a timer. Just study my face, and I’ll study yours.”

“I already know what you look like.”

“That’s not the point, can you not be stubborn about this?”

“Fine.” Jungkook huffs, and as Jimin sets the timer, he figures he’ll start from top to bottom. He looks at Jimin’s bangs, soft little tufts that fall over his forehead, fading a little at the ends and losing their pink hue. Jungkook figures he’ll need to dye it again soon. He remembers once when he and Taehyung actually dyed it for him, the one week when he tried electric blue and hated it. The memory almost makes him laugh, Jimin had smeared dye all over a white shirt he was wearing. Then, he just gets sad all over again. He breathes deep, refocuses, and moves down to Jimin’s forehead, then his neatly arched eyebrows. When he reaches his eyes, he thinks top to bottom may have been a mistake. Jimin is looking elsewhere, luckily, his gaze is aimed down a bit, and Jungkook wonders if he’s just going to stare at his chin for five minutes. Fine by him. 

Jimin’s eyes are so sharp, and yet soft when he wants them to be. They’re thin, but piercing, something about them just draws you in, sees further than maybe you want them to. Jungkook used to like that about them until every look became a hateful one. His nose is small, cute even, cheeks thinned out compared to last year, when they held a little more baby fat. Then, of course, there were his lips. Jungkook didn’t want to linger too long on those. Tae used to wax poetic about them constantly after a dare forced the two to kiss at a house party. He’d go on and on about how they were the plushest, softest pillows, and how apparently Jimin made even a peck seem deeply sensual. Back then, he’d wondered if he was just exaggerating. Then the realization that he’d have to find out sent his stomach swooping. He was going to have to kiss Jimin. And probably soon, too. His gaze nearly faltered, but he kept it glued onto Jimin’s lips. How the hell were they going to get through this? 

Jimin used to hate how handsome Jungkook is. Back when he was insecure about his own softer features, he’d look at his face and wonder how Jungkook managed to look like a little rabbit one minute, then a sharp jawed grown man the next. It irked Jimin, at least before he got to know him. Then, he found that duality endearing, and now…he doesn’t really know what he thinks about it now. He’s not sure how long he’s been staring at the mole beneath Jungkook’s lower lip, but he stays there because it feels safer. God forbid they make eye contact. As if they have minds of their own though, his eyes dart down to Jungkook’s throat, taking in the muscular curvature of his neck, then quickly he pulls them back up. Okay, maybe his forehead then, he’ll just focus on that. His hair is darker than it used to be, closer to his natural color, Jimin guesses. It’s getting so long now, even curling at the ends, and it makes him look older somehow, less boyish and juvenile than the straighter, closer cropped style he used to sport. 

Maybe this was a stupid idea, Jimin thinks. No amount of staring is going to fix the real issue. How are they supposed to act intimate with each other with so much water under the bridge? They aren’t strangers having to pretend they were close, it’s so much worse than that. They were close, or at least Jimin thinks they would have been if everything hadn’t gone down the way it did. They were on the road to a deep friendship that existed outside of the group they both found themselves a part of, and then life yanked them apart and lit a wall of fire between them. Though, Jimin had to admit he may have ignited the first match. But a match doesn’t compare to Jungkook’s blow torch. What he did was so much worse. And now, Jimin will have to see him every day, sing with him, kiss him eventually. That brings him to the next step in the exercise, and suddenly he feels like throwing up the soybean soup he’d had for lunch. 

When the timer finally goes off, Jimin actually thinks he feels a chunk of tofu crawling its way back up his esophagus. 

“I don’t think that helped,” Jungkook says first. 

“For once, we agree.”

“You said there was another part to this?”

Jimin gulps, running a hand through his hair. “Mhm. Afterwards, you’re supposed to just touch. Like arms and shoulders and…wherever else the two of you deem appropriate. To acclimate yourselves to physical touch so that it won’t feel as awkward when you actually start acting.” 

“I see,” is all Jungkook responds with, and Jimin can’t read him. Usually he’s so transparent. 

Then he stands and raises his arms and says, “Go for it. Just don’t tickle me.”

“ Tickle - why would I do that?” Jimin scoffs. 

“Just diffusing the tension. Take a joke.” 

Rolling his eyes, Jimin also stands, but he can’t seem to reach out. His hands won’t do it, which is rich considering his eyes got carried away just a minute ago. Noticing the hesitation, Jungkook offers to go first. Jimin isn’t sure that’ll be much better, but he agrees anyway, mirroring Jungkook by raising his arms as well. 

His fingers graze the sleeve of Jimin’s striped shirt first, trailing up his arm and past his elbow. When Jungkook sees him visibly shiver, he jerks his hand away like he’s been burned. 

“I can’t do this, it’s too weird.”

“Ugh, okay, what if we…I dunno, do it at the same time?”

Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek, skeptical of the whole thing. But, he knows they’ve got to get over this sooner rather than later or Director Sung will probably have both their heads on a spike. He nods, and Jimin slowly raises his hand, placing his palm flat on Jungkook’s chest, just over his heart. Answering the touch, Jungkook does the same, marveling for a moment at how much of Jimin’s pec is entirely covered by his larger hand. He really is so dainty. 

Jimin inches closer and rests his other hand on Jungkook’s shoulder, who again matches his movement. But then Jungkook’s hand just unconsciously slides down to grip Jimin’s upper arm, feeling hard muscles underneath the fabric and skin. Jimin squeezes a little too, his fingers lightly digging into Jungkook’s shoulder as they creep up closer to the juncture where it meets his neck. The hand on Jimin’s chest slides down and snakes around to his slim waist, and he can feel Jungkook’s heartbeat quicken. Mind going a little fuzzy at the edges, Jimin curls his fingers at Jungkook’s nape now, silky black strands of his hair brushing against his skin. When did his breathing get so heavy? 

Then he makes a terrible mistake. He looks at Jungkook’s eyes. His pupils are blown wide, and they seem to be fixed on what Jimin can only assume are his lips. He doesn’t have to guess what’s on Jungkook’s mind though, as not a second later, he murmurs, “Y’know, we’re gonna have to…do more than this. Later.” 

Jimin can only nod, and when their gazes lock, he feels this burning instinct to lean in. That is, until he comes back to earth and remembers who exactly he’s looking at right now. Abruptly, he shoves Jungkook by the chest and takes two large steps backward. “I think that’s enough for today.”

Jungkook looks dazed, gnawing on his bottom lip and playing with the hem of his shirt. He grunts and Jimin assumes that’s some sort of agreement. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Jimin says, slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder and bolting from the room as quickly as he can without looking too much like he’s running away. 

*

“Alright, one more time! I need more fire from Maureen and Joanne, Hoseok can you demonstrate that move for Seokjin again please?” Director Sung barks to the cast after the first full run through of ‘La Vie Boheme’ with Jungkook. 

Panting with bright, beaming grins, Jimin and Taehyung clasp hands and start giggling to each other about some sort of inside joke. Jungkook was so happy just a minute ago. Dancing and singing like that with his friends reminded him of better days, like he time traveled for a few minutes. But now, he’s watching the two of them, and he knows he can’t go join in their joy. He knows Taehyung will sneer at him, not that he blamed him for being fiercely protective of Jimin. But it still hurts to know there was a time when Tae would have sneered at anyone who hurt Jungkook, too. 

When they do the number again, Jungkook knows his mood tanked too much to bring the energy he needed. Director Sung purses her lips and he wants to crawl into the orchestra pit and never come out. She doesn’t say anything, just announces an extra rehearsal if everyone can sacrifice a Saturday, and then pulls Jimin aside to speak with him privately. Anxious and a little paranoid, Jungkook snatches up his script and flees. Namjoon reaches out to say something but he doesn’t register it at the moment, too focused on the desire for a breath of fresh air and some quiet. 

Later, when he’s sketching in his dorm, a text lights up his phone. 

‘You took my script, I need it back - Park Jimin’

Sighing, Jungkook slides his bag across the floor and rummages through it until he finds the stapled stack of papers, very quickly realizing that this, in fact, is not his own script. The highlighter is pink, and there are neatly scribbled notes in every margin. Curiosity draws him in, and Jungkook starts skimming Jimin’s handwriting, wondering if any of this could be helpful. 

‘Be mysterious here, don’t give everything away.’

‘Arch your back when you crawl across the catwalk, BE SEXY’

‘Glance at Benny in this scene, you’re keeping a secret’

‘Lean into Jungkook- Roger here, be seductive but also kinda desperate’

A small smile crept onto Jungkook’s face as he read. Jimin has always been so dedicated, applied himself so intensely to everything he puts his mind to. He always respected that, and still admires it. 

‘I must have taken it by mistake. Come pick it up from me tomorrow morning - JK’

He attached a location along with the text, and Jimin furrowed his brow at it. A coffee shop? Why does he want to meet him at a coffee shop?

It bothers him throughout the night, and still does when he wakes up. He finds himself putting on his favorite light wash jeans, fastening dangly silver earrings, and then scowls at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Why does he care how he looks right now, he’s just getting a script. In and out, nothing to it. 

When he swings open the door, he expects to see Jungkook sitting at a table and waiting for him. Instead, Jimin finds him behind the counter wearing a black apron, looking down at a coffee that he’s scooping a heap of ice into. Everything made more sense now, of course he only wanted him to come here because he was working a shift, not because he wanted to have coffee with him or anything. It’s a relief, and Jimin’s shoulders relax a bit as he approaches. 

“Hi,” he says. 

Jungkook’s head snaps up, and Jimin could swear his eyes soften a little when he sees him. 

“Oh hi, I’m about to take my break, just give me one second and I’ll get your script.”

Jimin just nods and takes a seat at one of the booths lining the wall. He watches Jungkook finish a few latte’s and pump syrup into cups, actually a little impressed at how fast his hands move, how concentrated he is. He calls out the large order to the group huddled near the counter, and shuffles through the other baristas and into the back. When he emerges, he’s no longer wearing his apron and is holding two paper cups as he walks towards the table Jimin has claimed. He slides one cup across the surface and Jimin’s eyes flicker from it to Jungkook, narrowed and questioning. 

“Oh just drink it,” he laughs as he takes a seat. 

When Jimin takes a sip, he hums as the warm, sweet liquid washes over his tongue. It tastes like espresso, but there’s hints of apricot and honey, and he’s instantly hooked. 

“Wow, what is this?”

“My secret recipe,” Jungkook smirks as he brings his own cup to his lips. “I can make it whenever, if- if you want.” 

“Thanks,” Jimin says quietly, averting his gaze because really, he doesn’t know what else to say to that. 

There’s a moment of silence between them before Jungkook laughs a little to himself. Jimin raises an eyebrow and Jungkook motions to a couple seated two tables away. “What do you think their relationship is?”

“Uh, I don’t know…study partners or something? Dating?”

Shaking his head, Jungkook says, “I don’t think so. Look at his body language versus hers, he’s leaning across the table, but she keeps crossing her arms. His foot keeps shaking too, like there’s something unsaid. I think they’re probably friends and he likes her but she’s not sure about it yet.” 

Jimin realized then that his arms were crossed, and quickly let his hands fall into his lap. 

“I mean, sure, that’s possible. Do you…always watch people like that?”

“Mhm,” Jungkook says, a little wistful as he glances around the room, “I like figuring out people’s stories. I have a pretty high success rate too.”

“How do you know when you’re right?”

“Well…I ask them,” Jungkook answers as if that was supposed to be obvious. “Someone threw a muffin at me once, but I was still able to count that as a correct guess.” 

“You’re so strange,” Jimin scoffs.

Then, Jungkook slapped the script on the table top and stood. “I like being strange. My break’s over, see ya.” 

*

“Have you ever heard the phrase ‘to the back row’?”

Scowling, Jungkook mutters, “No.”

“When you project, imagine you’re talking to the back row. You have to be that loud when you’re speaking lines as much as when you sing. Your mic will only do so much.” 

“I don’t get how I’m supposed to do that without just yelling, and then I sound robotic.” 

Jimin sighs deeply, exasperated after nearly two hours of running the same scenes that Jungkook can’t seem to nail. The two other castmates rehearsing with them take this as an opportunity for a bathroom break, leaving just Jungkook and Jimin on an empty stage. 

“You can be loud and still portray the emotion you want, it comes from your diaphragm. You already know how to use those muscles, just apply them here too.” 

“Easier said than done. I’m just not good at this, I guess,” Jungkook snaps, his voice biting and clipped. 

“Throwing yourself a pity party won’t get you anywhere. Take five and we’ll try again.” 

Without answering, Jungkook gets up and closes himself in the dressing room, leaning against the wall and trying to breathe evenly. Everyone is so far ahead, almost off-book with their stage directions all blocked out, and he can’t even figure out how to talk properly. He knows he’s been taking it out on Jimin all day, knows he shouldn’t, but right now that seems like the only place safe enough to release his frustration. 

Folding himself in a deep stretch, Jimin clutches onto his feet and feels the burn in his hamstrings and lower back. The choreography for ‘Out Tonight’ is grueling, and it’s been taking a toll on his muscles, despite how much he loves to do it. There’s something oddly freeing about performing such a provocative number on his own. He’d prefer to be practicing it even more right now, if he weren’t stuck hand-holding Jungkook through the basics. Okay, maybe that was harsh, Jungkook has never had a role like this before, and he’s late to the party which is probably stressful for him. Then Jimin’s frown deepens even further as he realized he just admonished himself for thinking poorly of Jungkook, he actually just had compassion for him, and it doesn’t sit right in his stomach. 

“Jimin?” Someone calls from the seats of the auditorium. 

He looks up and sees Doyun standing in the middle of an aisle, dressed suspiciously formal in a button up and slacks. And he’s holding a single white rose. “Oh no,” Jimin huffs under his breath. 

“You shouldn’t be here, we’re about to keep rehearsing.”

“I know, I just…wanted to say something.” 

Looking around to see if anyone’s lingering, Jimin stands and walks to the edge of the stage, crossing his arms and waiting to hear him out. 

“I just thought…we should talk. I was angry, but I’m better now. I want to talk to Director Sung too, maybe set it all straight.”

“You backed out, and we recast you.”

“Maybe I can still be in the chorus…” He says, stepping closer until he’s looking up at Jimin from right in front of the stage. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I miss you.” 

Rolling his eyes, Jimin turns away a bit and says, “Doyun, go home.” 

“But I-”

“There’s nothing else for us to talk about.”

When Doyun turns to skulk out of the auditorium with his head hung, Jungkook waits to hear the click of the doors shutting before revealing himself. 

“You wanna tell me what that was about?”

Startled, Jimin spins around and looks at Jungkook like a deer in headlights. “It was nothing.” 

“Nothing? You’re the reason he dropped out of the show, aren’t you?”

“It worked out well for you, didn’t it? I don’t see why you’re so mad about it,” Jimin says, defenses rising. 

“You really had me second guessing myself for a minute. Saying I didn’t see what I thought I saw last year, making me think you were some kind of victim. But here you are again-” Jungkook cut himself off, biting his tongue from unleashing the kinds of things raging in his mind. 

“I think you should be very careful about what you say next,” Jimin warned, gaze darkening. 

“I don’t have anything else to say. You know what you are.”

Jungkook tries storming off, having the last word, but Jimin grabs his wrist. 

“You’re not running off and telling someone about something you don’t even understand this time. You’re not going to make everyone think I did something I didn’t do again.” 

“What else could have happened? You slept with the TA last year, and suddenly you’re getting the solo in the showcase that should have been mine. Now you’ve slept with Doyun and he couldn’t even handle staying in the show, what’s next huh? Are you gonna make a move on me now?”

Jimin’s grip on his wrist tightened, eyes alight with something daring as he said, “You couldn’t handle it if I did.” 

Their gazes meet and Jungkook realizes how close their faces are. He knows he has to get out of here, tear himself away before the siren song in Jimin’s eyes draws him in any further, beckoning him to his death. 

Ripping out of Jimin’s hold, Jungkook staggers backward and feels the need to catch his breath. 

“Nothing actually happened with Doyun.”

“Right,” Jungkook scoffs, and before Jimin can further weave his web of lies, he speeds out of the auditorium. 

*

Snuggling further into Tae’s comforter, Jimin groans. 

“It’s gonna be okay, Jiminie, if Jungkook tells anyone I’ll just shut him up myself.”

“He wouldn’t listen, I tried telling him nothing happened. It isn’t my fault Doyun got a crush and couldn’t handle it when I turned him down.”

“No, it isn’t your fault,” Tae coos, hugging Jimin closer to his chest, “And last year wasn’t your fault either.”

“That’s different…”

“It isn’t. You want me to talk to Jungkook?”

“That’s a horrible idea,” Jimin says, and he chuckles for the first time since rehearsal ended. “I can talk to him again myself, just to make sure this doesn’t affect the show…” 

“I’m sure it’ll turn out okay.”

Pacing the length of his dorm, Jungkook runs his hands through his hair as he replays the last hour in his mind. Why is he so angry? The moment he heard what Doyun was saying, it was like he’d been transported back to a year ago. That moment when he opened the door and saw Jimin sprawled out underneath that sleazy guy, his shirt unbuttoned and lips parted in quiet gasps. 

But what was it now? Why does the thought of Jimin having another tryst make his blood boil? He had a point, the whole thing had given Jungkook the role he wanted, so shouldn’t he be grateful or something? But he was far from it, the images of Jimin and Doyun swirling around his head like a taunting, distorted little film and driving him mad. 

Then he had to go and say that . He couldn’t handle it? Couldn’t handle Jimin? What a load of crap, what if Jimin’s the one that couldn’t handle it? Jungkook muttered under his breath, calling Jimin everything from a ‘smug asshole’ to a ‘damned temptress’. 

*

The next rehearsal was tense, to say the least.

Jungkook had to hold Jimin in his arms and sing softly to him, and he was absolutely not in the mindset to do that well today. He couldn’t even look at him for too long, and Jimin was only getting frustrated.

“You don’t look like someone who’s upset that I’m dying.”

“You don’t look like someone who’s dying. Maybe if you were more convincing, I’d be more emotional.” 

“Amateur,” Jimin muttered, and Jungkook rolled him off of his lap and onto the floor of the practice room. 

“Okay, what’s going on, why are the vibes so off today?” Director Sung asked, a vein on her forehead twitching in repressed frustration. 

“Sorry, I’m just not…I dunno, this scene is hard for me.”

“Let’s backtrack then. Let’s go from Mimi and Benny in the cafe into ‘I should tell you’. ”

Jungkook was a little confused as to why she suddenly wanted to go back that far, but he went with it nonetheless. He stands aside, watches Jimin go through his scene with Benny, watches how lithe and smooth he looks, and it again transforms into him with the TA. Writhing, panting. 

When the others join the scene, Jimin grabs Jungkook by the sleeve and bursts into his heated lyrics, 

“Excuse me, did I do something wrong?

I get invited, then ignored, all night long,”

He’s practically spitting the words at him, fiery and maybe a little more angered than he should be. But Jungkook rises to his energy level, throwing Jimin’s hand off and roaring his lines.

“I’ve been tryin’, I’m not lying. No one’s perfect, I’ve got baggage!”

Then Jimin places his hand on Jungkook’s chest, closing in and growing a little softer in tone as he sings, “Life’s too short, babe, time is flyin’...I’m looking for baggage…that goes with mine.”

They pause, locked in a heated stare. Jungkook gulps, the melody shifts to a calmer tune through the speakers around them, and he continues, “I should tell you,”

“I should tell you…”

When Jungkook doesn’t sing his next line, Jimin furiously rakes his hand through his hair and clicks his tongue. 

“If you don’t get this down soon, I really will go call Doyun back here.”

“Why don’t you then?” Jungkook sneers, gaze unwavering, piercing. 

Jimin opens his mouth, but Director Sung is already between them, creating space and calling out, “Ten minute break, everyone!” 

When the others exit the room, except Tae and Jin, she turns to Jimin and says, “You,” then to Jungkook, “And you. Dressing room. Ten minutes. Locked inside. When you come out, whatever is going on here needs to be either resolved or set aside.”

“That’s not necessary,” Jimin argues. 

“Oh yes it is. Would you rather sit down with me and tell me everything, or sort it out yourselves?”

“We’ll be fine,” Jungkook says flatly. 

“Dressing room,” She presses, and they know there’s no way out of this. Tae looks mildly concerned, while Jin is desperately trying to repress a fit of laughter. They’re shoved inside the room and hear the lock click in place, the echo of it sitting heavily in the quiet space. 

“This is stupid. We just need to pretend to get along, alright?” Jungkook says. 

“If you’d just remember your cues, we wouldn’t be having an issue.”

“No, that’s not the problem. You bringing up Doyun like that in the middle of rehearsal was completely inappropriate.”

Jimin shoves a makeup bag aside in order to sit on the countertop, leaning his back against the mirror. “Fine. I won’t do that again.”

“Okay. Great.”

Jungkook leans against the wall opposite Jimin, arms crossed and eyes downcast. 

“Since we’re stuck in here anyway…” Jimin starts quietly, “I did want to, uh…ask something of you.”

Jungkook looks up and quirks an eyebrow, silently motioning for him to continue. 

“I wasn’t lying when I said nothing happened between Doyun and I. He confessed to me and I turned him down. Then he freaked out and quit the show. If you haven’t already, can you just please not tell anyone? I don’t want the cast thinking I’m…well you already know what people say about me.” 

“That’s really what happened?”

“Why would I lie?”

“Because you lied before. When I caught you the last time you tried telling me it wasn’t what I thought it was.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Then what was it?”

“I don’t have to tell you, the damage is already done.”

Jungkook pushed off from the wall, closing the space between them as he examined Jimin’s face for every microexpression. “That’s convenient. You know what I think?”

Jimin just scowled as Jungkook stepped even closer. 

“I think there’s no other way for you to spin it, so you’re just shutting down.”

“I’m not obligated to tell you anything.”

“What, because I can’t handle it?”  

A corner of Jimin’s mouth lifted in a tiny smirk, “Oh so that’s what this is about today? You’re flustered.” 

“I am not flustered.” 

“You are!” Jimin laughed, “You’re all worked up because I told you that you couldn’t handle me.”

“It’s a joke that you think I’d want to handle you.”

Jimin’s grin grew more smug, sly even. Jungkook could punch a wall right now, and he didn’t know why. Why was his heart beating so fast? And when did he put his hands on the counter on either side of Jimin’s hips? 

“You know what I think?” Jimin taunts, throwing his own words back at him and leaning forward until he can feel Jungkook’s warm breath on his face, “I think you’re intimidated by me.”

Jungkook’s tongue pokes the inside of his cheek, and Jimin loves to see it. Loves that he’s getting under his skin. 

Rationality has left Jungkook’s mind entirely now. Who does Jimin think he is? Some magnanimous sex god that just goes around seducing people left and right? He wants to wipe that smile off his face, he wants to- shit, he wants to prove to Jimin that he can handle it. That thought brings his eyes down to Jimin’s lips, so plump and pink and tempting, even when they’re degrading him. He scans down the slope of his neck to his collarbones, exposed by the scoop neckline of the form fitting black shirt he’s wearing. He watches his Adam's apple bob when he swallows. 

And then he’s flinching away, and Jimin snickers, “That’s what I thought.” 

The phrase breaks something in Jungkook’s resolve, lights a searing fire in his gut that burns away all thought. Before Jimin can say another word, Jungkook is surging forward, capturing his lips and curling a hand around the nape of his neck to hold him close. 

Jimin tenses, gasps into the kiss, but the shock melts away as quickly as it came, and soon he’s tilting his head to grant further access, clutching Jungkook’s shoulders and arching into his body. 

Jungkook’s hands move on their own. Fervently, they scale down Jimin’s shoulder blades to his waist, around to his hips, and then they’re gripping handfuls of his outer thighs, fingertips kneading into the muscular flesh as they pull Jimin flush against his chest. On instinct, his legs hook around Jungkook’s torso, his tongue laps at Jungkook’s lower lip. 

Jimin is tightly grasping fistfuls of his hair now, the strain on his scalp sending tingles throughout Jungkook that shoot straight down to his abdomen. He weakly groans into Jimin’s mouth, and just as he’s about to do something truly reckless in response, a sharp knock sounds on the door. 

They scramble away from each other as a key jiggles the lock, staring blankly at their disheveled states in the mirrors. Swollen and slick lips, flushed complexions, and wide, terrified eyes. The moment is caught in silent suspension, a single second following a destructive event in which neither knows what the aftermath will hold. Jimin wants to stay there. He doesn’t want to think, doesn’t want to analyze what this means now, or figure out how to look Jungkook in the eyes once they leave this room. 

But time passes anyway, Director Sung throws open the door and asks, “So? Are we good here?”

“Good,” Jimin’s voice surprises himself, it’s hoarse and breathless. He snatches his jacket from the countertop and swiftly brushes past them both, escaping with the sole intent of crawling right back into Tae’s bed and hiding out for months. 

Jungkook knows he needs to move, but he just keeps standing in the dressing room like a dumbstruck idiot. He mumbles something to Director Sung that seems to pacify her, and she says she’ll see him tomorrow. She also tells him to be ready to practice every scene in their entirety. He knows what that means. 

*

‘We should talk about it, right?’ Jimin thinks while he should be concentrating on the advanced Music Theory lesson on the projector. How could he concentrate on anything else right now? He felt a thousand different things, from guilt, worried that he somehow pushed Jungkook to do it, to the mere shock at how good it was. Before last year, he may have thought of him romantically, even if it was far back in the recesses of his mind, painted with ‘DO NOT TOUCH’ in big red letters. Jungkook seemed younger then, shy and in need of friendship and nothing more. Now, though…it’s too complicated to even sort through. He’s still so seethingly angry at him deep down, and attraction doesn’t fit in that picture. Affection certainly doesn’t either. 

But he can’t get the memory out of his head. How firm his grip was, how long his fingers are, how he smelled like orange blossoms and cedar, how he sounded when Jimin pulled on his hair. This was not good, this was not good at all. 

His legs felt like they’d been filled with concrete as he approached the practice room. How does he act now? Does he avoid him, does he try to act normally, does he make a joke or insult him? 

When he opens the door, his eyes find Tae first, hoping to communicate everything in one single glance, which of course is entirely unrealistic. Yet, he seems to understand that something’s wrong, at the very least. Tae crossed the room to get to him, hooking their arms and whispering in his ear, “ You look like you’re gonna throw up, what’s wrong?”

“Um…” How does he say this? He sees Jungkook then, standing in the corner with Jin, both focused on their scripts. His clothes aren’t oversized today. Though it's almost cute when he’s drowning in fabric, today he’s wearing an athletic shirt that forms to his biceps like a second skin, drapes off of his chest and stomach without too much room for imagination. His sweats are tastefully loose, low on his hips and a deep charcoal gray. Jimin thinks it before he can stop himself, ‘God, he looks good.’

“Did he do something?” Tae asks again, shooting Jungkook a glare. 

“N-No. I’m alright, it’s just my stomach,” He lies. 

Jungkook feels Jimin enter the room. He’s impressed with himself for not looking, he keeps his eyes pointed at the page even if he isn’t absorbing a single word, but every hair on his arms seems to stand up as if he has some sort of ‘Jimin-sense’ now. Though he’d be lying to himself if he said that was a recent development. 

“Alright, today’s the day. Mimi and Roger, kiss scene, Collins and Angel, kiss scene, Maureen and Joanne, yep, you guessed it, kiss scene! Mark…Mark doesn’t kiss anyone.”

Jin takes a bow and everyone chuckles, everyone but Jimin and Jungkook. They look at each other from opposite corners of the room, and Jimin feels his stomach sink to his toes. 

“It’s gonna be fine. You’re a professional person, the most dedicated performer I know, you can do this,” Tae encourages, feeling the tension in Jimin’s shoulders as he lovingly massages them. 

“Yeah. You’re right. I am a professional. This is just acting. It’s just…acting.” 

Taehyung’s scene comes first, he and the nonbinary classmate playing Angel perform ‘I’ll cover you’ and kiss at the end with little to no awkwardness. They made it look so easy, and Jimin is a little resentful. He watches the actresses playing Maureen and Joanne go next, they’re friends outside of the show, and so they burst into giggles on their first attempt. They get it together on the second attempt, and everyone cheers for them. When it's time for Jimin and Jungkook to go, the vibe in the room entirely shifts, as if no one is sure how to react or how not to react. 

The scene picks up after ‘La Vie Boheme’ , right where they’d left off yesterday before everything exploded into a nuclear bomb in the dressing room. They sing ‘I should tell you’ with strained, hushed voices that actually lend the exact right amount of apprehension to the scene. Director Sung seems to be congratulating herself in the corner for her apt problem solving yesterday. 

‘Who knows where?

Who goes there?

Who knows…here goes…’

They haven’t done this part yet. Per their stage directions, Jungkook takes Jimin’s hand and pulls him into a slow dance, lazily swaying. Jimin lays his head on Jungkook’s shoulder as they ease into the next verse.

‘Trusting desire, starting to learn.

Walking through fire, without a burn,’

Jimin feels so warm, the words seep into his pores, mingling with that fresh yet earthy essence that is so Jungkook . If someone didn’t sneeze, he’d swear they were alone in this room. 

‘A leap begins,

Stinging and older, 

Asleep on pins,

So here we go…

Now we…’

Jimin lifts his head, and now he’s out of time. His eyes meet Jungkook’s, and everything goes silent, his ears buzzing. 

Realizing it’s his line next, Jungkook murmurs, “Oh no…” And he feels it. He didn’t think he’d be able to feel so in tune with this character, to the point where this no longer became acting. 

“I know…” Jimin whispers along to the melody.

“Here goes, here goes…here goes,” they croon in unison, softly. Jungkook cranes his neck and Jimin meets him halfway, and their lips lightly brush. It’s Jimin who presses first, deepens it and brings his hands to cradle Jungkook’s jaw, thumbs resting on his cheeks and grazing his skin with affectionate strokes. 

Jungkook wraps an arm around Jimin's back, pressing between his shoulder blades, hand plunging into his pale pink locks in a hold that keeps Jimin so firmly pressed against the length of his body that he feels electrified. 

When Jimin pulls away, he feels just as dazed as yesterday. Through the fuzzy mess his mind has tangled itself into, he has the awareness that everyone is staring at them. He has to act normal, and fast. Clearing his throat, he plasters on a smile and turns to Director Sung.

“Well?”

“That was…um, fantastic. Yeah, really, it looked so…natural.” 

“ Really natural,” Taehyung echoed, brow furrowed and chin resting on his index finger in that inquisitive glower he so perfectly portrays. 

Jimin looks to Jungkook, nudges him to get him to snap out of it and say something, but he doesn’t. Instead, he gnaws on his bottom lip and just nods along to whatever anyone else says. 

He excuses himself, mumbling about needing the bathroom, and Jimin waits exactly forty five seconds before he follows him. Catching Jungkook near the sinks before he can escape into a stall, Jimin says, “Hey, are you sick or something?”

“No.”

“Then why are you acting so weird? Jin Hyung even made a joke that my breath must be terrible and you were trying not to hurl.” 

“Sorry.”

Jimin hoped that would make him laugh. Why did he hope that would make him laugh? And why does he look so haunted right now?

“Um, listen…I can talk to Director Sung and see if we can take the kiss scenes out. I think there’s only two, so I’m sure we can-”

“That’s not it,” Jungkook snaps, finally looking at him. 

“Please, like it could be anything else. You don’t want to kiss me, I don’t want to kiss you, and sometimes even actors can’t overcome that.”

“Then what was yesterday?”

Jimin curls in on himself, arms cradling his small frame. He knew it would have to come up eventually, but what was he supposed to say when he didn’t even understand it himself?

“Yesterday was…a one off.”

“Hm. I didn’t think ‘one offs’ happened between people who didn’t want to kiss each other.” 

“Are you trying to get me to admit that I like you or something? Because if you are, you’re going to be disappointed.” 

Jungkook clicks his tongue and looks up at the water stained ceiling as if an answer was written up there. “Mm, I know you don’t like me. Doesn’t mean you’re not attracted to me though.”

“I’m not.”

Jungkook just hums again, smirking at Jimin without a response.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you think I’m lying.”

“You are lying.” 

Jimin scoffs, “I am not. You’re the one who kissed me.”

“And you wrapped your legs around me.” 

“And you almost grabbed my ass.”

“Almost.” 

Well, Jimin wasn’t sure what to say to that. He’s clearly testing him, but to what end? Whatever game this is, Jimin knows he can play it better. 

“You wanted to,” He says, hip cocked out as he glares Jungkook down with a coy, challenging smile.

Jungkook ups the ante, closing in on Jimin and backing him into the tile wall behind them. He uses his height to his advantage, resting an arm above Jimin’s head and looking down at him with those big brown eyes, staring with an intensity that Jimin can’t place. 

“You wanted me to,” Jungkook says, voice low. Jimin curses internally, how is he so good at this? He just throws the ball back in his court every time, and now Jimin has to figure out how far he wants to escalate this just for the sake of making Jungkook falter. But, god, he wants to. He wants to poke and prod Jungkook until he comes undone, gets angry, frazzled, anything. 

“I have other outlets.” 

Jungkook’s pierced eyebrow twitches just faintly, “What, like Doyun? That little sap wouldn’t know what to do with someone like you.”

“And you do?” Jimin breathes out, unconsciously tilting his chin up to level his eyes with Jungkook’s. 

“I do,” he answers, barely above a whisper, eyes flickering down to Jimin’s lips. 

“I’m not that easy.”

“Believe me, I know,” Jungkook says with a slight, throaty chuckle that sends heat pooling in Jimin’s stomach. 

Then the sound of an electronic chime reverberates off the tile, Jimin’s pocket buzzing wildly. He can’t ignore it, and it takes everything to tear his gaze away from Jungkook’s, to break the tension and check his phone. 

‘Jiminie, where are you guys? Send the signal if you need rescuing’

He and Tae had developed a system. If Jimin was on a bad date, he could text a chick emoji and suddenly he’d receive a call with some sort of pressing emergency that required him to take his leave. If Tae sent a bear emoji, Jimin would do the same. 

‘All good, we’re coming,’ He responded, shoving his phone back into his jeans. When Jimin looks at Jungkook again, he watches his tongue swipe across his bottom lip, smugness oozing from every corner of his expression. But they both know the moment has passed. 

Jimin scoots out from against the wall and rounds the corner to the door with lightning speed. It takes Jungkook another few minutes to follow him back in the practice room, and thankfully Director Sung shows the cast mercy by ceasing any further ‘intimacy practice’. But Jimin’s face remains hot to the touch for the rest of the day, cheeks rouged with an unmistakable flush. 

He can’t think about anything else. Not when he’s poking at his dinner with cheap wooden chopsticks from the takeout bag, or when Namjoon is telling one of his highly philosophical and metaphorical tales. Taehyung nudges him, clearly having said something funny and looking for a response, but Jimin can only blink at him and ask him to repeat it. His mind is entirely taken up with possibilities, different scenarios of how things might have played out in the bathroom if they hadn’t been interrupted. If Jimin got to experience just what Jungkook would do with him if given the chance. 

The fantasies continue even into his dreams, fragmented flashes of a strong hand around his throat, lips grazing his bare skin. He wakes with sweat on his brow, feverish and panting and painfully aroused. Jimin knows he can’t let anything like that happen again. No more teasing, no more dreaming, even if he has to find someone to hook up with just to channel his lust elsewhere. Get it out of his system. 

*

The universe has a twisted sense of humor. Just last night, Jimin had sorted through his prospects. Doyun was a no go, and he couldn’t take a chance on anyone in the cast. There's a guy on his train in the mornings that might be gay and is decently attractive, but he also might be a creep or married or any number of unknown risks. As in tune with his sensuality as he is, Jimin is still usually uncomfortable having sex with strangers. 

But he needs something , someone to pin him down and have their way with him until Jeon Jungkook is the last thing on his mind.

Then, he’s jotting down notes, seated in the first row in the auditorium for some genuine peace and quiet when hands slide onto his shoulders and grip hard. Jimin whips his head to see who snuck up on him, and it's the last person he expected. 

“We really need to start locking the doors to this place,” Jimin sighs.

“Wow, that happy to see me, huh?”

“Hyeon-jun hyung…” 

“Jimin-ah,” he says with a wide grin, dimpled and beaming and Jimin recognizes that look as the trap that it is. After he graduated last semester, Jimin was so sure he’d never have to see that smile again. 

He stands from his seat and puts some distance between them, leaning against the stage wall. 

“I stopped by to visit Professor Moon, thought I might find you here,” Hyeon-jun says, flicking his chestnut brown bangs out of his eyes. 

“Not sure why you were looking for me anyway,” he answers, cool and collected as he shuffles his papers and straightens the stack. 

“Thought we could catch up, have dinner. What do you think?”

It’s so casual, like they were just old friends reconnecting after a while. Like Hyeon-jun isn’t the reason people call Jimin a slut in locker rooms when they think he isn’t listening. Like he isn’t the reason Jungkook thinks of him that way too. 

“Hmm, I don’t know about that,” Jimin says, pretending to be amused or aloof or something, anything that isn’t portraying the panicked self loathing bubbling in his stomach like toxic bile. Because it would be so easy to say yes. He knows what would happen: Hyeon-jun would pick him up from his apartment, Taehyung would probably threaten to push him down the stairs, but Jimin would go with him anyway, and they would park the car somewhere isolated enough before they even made it to the restaurant, and… 

He can’t. No matter how hot and bothered he is at the thought of relieving some of this damned tension in his body, this would be the most colossal step backwards, the biggest mistake he could make. But it would also be familiar. Maybe, and he curses himself for even considering it this much, no one would have to know. He could make an excuse easily, meet Hyeon-jun somewhere and be done, at least decently sated and not thinking about Jungkook. 

Hyeon-jun looks at him like he can hear this internal debate. He steps forward and taps Jimin’s chin with his index finger and says, “We could even just have a drink, if dinner is too much of a commitment for you.” 

Jimin’s lips betray him. “Maybe just one drink.” 

“At the wine bar?”

Absolutely not, anyone could be there and spot him, he and Taehyung and Yoongi even hang out there three or four times a month. Jimin just shakes his head and Hyeon-jun seems to understand.

“Why don’t you just come over then? I have a bottle or two.” 

Jimin’s stomach sinks. If he says yes, he knows what he’s saying yes to. 

“I promised someone I’d help with a project tonight. Let me see if I can reschedule it and I’ll text you.” He’s proud of himself for that, he can at least buy himself some time to think now. 

Hyeon-jun smirks lightly and offers a movement that can barely be considered a nod. “You still have my address, just show up whenever you want.”

The insinuation of that makes him nearly roll his eyes. He thinks Jimin is still the same starry eyed teacher's pet, doesn’t he? Jimin does, in fact, still know his address, but now he wants to pretend like he doesn’t. He wants to show Hyeon-jun just how different he is. Maybe this could kill two birds with one stone. 

*

“Ya, you said you’d play with me tonight!” Jin shouts, crackling from the poor phone connection. 

“I know, but now that the marks are down on the stage, I was hoping to sneak in there tonight and go through my blocking. Just come with me, you could work on some of your cues too.” 

“This is the one night when I don’t have homework or rehearsal, and I was supposed to spend it shooting things on a screen with you, but it’s fine, I can do it myself.”

“You are great at making friends on the internet,” Jungkook snickers. 

“Yeah, how about I go do that and then I’ll just play with them from now on!”

“Sounds great, Jin-hyung, see you tomorrow!” Then he disconnects the line without waiting to hear another retort. A few heads turn to glance at him, and Jungkook offers an apologetic look to the librarian at the counter. Shutting his textbook, he crams it and his notebooks back into his bag before heading out with only food on his mind. He got a pretty good score on a test, and decided to treat himself to fried chicken tonight, even thought he’d pick it up and take it to the auditorium in case Namjoon was still there working on another set piece. Before he buys too much food though, he decides to give him a call just to be sure.

“Hey, what’s up, are you locked out?” Namjoon asks as soon as he answers. 

“No, no, I’m leaving the library now. Aren’t you there?”

“No, not tonight. I was trying to convince Jimin to help me with my econ paper, but I guess he…has plans.” 

Something in his voice set Jungkook’s alarms off. Namjoon never talks about anything that briefly, not unless he’s really actively trying to conceal how he feels about it, which is a rarity in and of itself. 

“Plans?”

“Yeah…so I’ll just work on it alone. Jimin still has a key so I can ask him to leave it for you if you can just lock up when you’re done.”

Jungkook knows this is going to be stupid and ridiculously obvious but can’t help himself. “What plans?”

“He didn’t say.”

“But you have an idea.”

“I probably shouldn’t talk about it with you. No offense, Jungkoo-ah.”

He knows it's a lost cause now, as chatty as Namjoon is, he won’t reveal more than that if it means possibly putting Jimin at risk. Jungkook thinks it might be better for him not to know, anyway. 

“It’s no big deal, I was just…curious. I’ll see you tomorrow then.” 

He hangs up and heads outside, drives to pick up his chicken and tries desperately not to keep thinking about that conversation. He doesn’t want to think about what mysterious things Jimin might be up to tonight. Maybe it was just private and he has a doctor’s appointment or something. Probably not at 7:30 pm though. 

When he lets the auditorium doors slam shut behind him, he looks out at the stage, the rows of empty seats, and is greeted with a still silence. Setting his bag down on the stage floor, he goes to the dressing room to wash his hands. But when he comes out, he hears the creak of metal and an unmistakable click, and emerges from the wings to see Jimin strutting down the aisle from the main entrance. 

He’s dressed up. Black skinny jeans with a matching cropped jacket, a white shirt with a deep v neck underneath, pointed boots with his bangs pushed back for an effortless, windswept look. Two thoughts fight in Jungkook’s head: first that he looks really good, and second…that he must look that good for someone in particular. 

“Oh. Hi,” he says, stopping in his tracks. 

“Hi.”

“I was just leaving the key. Namjoon-yo asked me to.”

Jungkook nods, but doesn’t move. Jimin climbs the steps to the stage, sighing as he reaches his hand out, key ring hooked on his middle finger. 

“Wearing perfume?” Jungkook asks, mouth moving far ahead of his brain. 

“A little.”

“Hyung said you had plans tonight.”

“I do.”

Jungkook can feel a tiny muscle in his jaw twitching, and it gives away his borderline desperation to know where Jimin is going once he walks out of here. 

“Have a date or something?”

“Is that your business?”

Well that answers that. 

Jungkook just grunts a little and says, “Have fun.” 

As he reaches out to take the keys, Jimin’s phone buzzes and comes tumbling out of the tight back pocket of his jeans, clattering onto the floor. It skitters to a stop near Jungkook’s foot, and as he bends down to pick it up, he sees the contact name on the text message. 

“You can’t be serious.” 

Jimin moves quickly, snatching up the device and shoving it into his jacket. 

“Just take the keys, alright?” He snaps, holding them out yet again. 

“Have you been together this whole time? Since…you know.”

“No, I…hadn’t seen him at all until today.” Jimin blurts out, and he really isn’t sure why he’s telling Jungkook this. He doesn’t owe him an explanation, it's all his fault that he’s about to go through with this anyway. 

“Oh, so it’s a hookup.”

“What are you, some sort of moral paragon? Just stay out of it, I don’t have to answer to you.”

“No, you don’t. Do whatever you want.” 

“You are so frustrating,” Jimin growls out, tossing the keys at his feet. He was expecting anger, more judgment, just something other than ‘do whatever you want’. “You don’t have anything else to say?”

“No, it isn’t my business anyway right?” Jungkook shoots back, but Jimin doesn’t miss the way his tongue jabs at the inside of his cheek. He feels almost triumphant, like he needs to know this is bothering Jungkook, and the confirmation feeds that wicked little fire burning in his gut. 

“No, it isn’t. Bye then,” He says, turning on his heel and walking slowly back to the stairs. If he knows Jungkook, he won’t be able to resist. He’s trying to play it cool now, but he knows he won’t let Jimin leave without one more hit. 

He gets right to the edge of the first step when Jungkook says, “You know Hyeon-jun is an asshole, right?” Jimin almost smiles.

“He’s conceited, a little arrogant maybe.” 

“As long as you know. I thought your standards might have changed since then, but maybe not.”

Jimin turns back to face him, “What, you don’t think he’s good enough for just a one night stand?”

Jungkook knows he has to tread carefully, but the image of them together last year is plaguing him again. The thought of Jimin giving himself to that pompous windbag again makes his hands tighten into fists. “If you’re into guys who probably just want to look at themselves in the mirror the whole time, then sure.”

“No one’s managed to look anywhere but at me so far,” Jimin says, taking his bottom lip between his teeth for just one teasing moment. 

Jungkook feels static crackling in the space between them, taking up all the air, and maybe that’s why he feels a little light headed, a little reckless. He closes the distance by half and lets his voice come out deep and low, “That’s big talk for someone desperate enough to take whatever scraps he wants to give you. Why now, huh? Did he get bored with someone else?”

It hits him like a gut punch because he isn’t wrong. Jimin does feel desperate, just not for Hyeon-jun. He wants the incensed, borderline fuming man before him, piercing him with a darkened gaze and penetrating his senses until his mind is hazy, nothing but orange blossom and sandalwood drowning out rationality. Even worse, those nearly degrading words of his made Jimin’s knees a little weak, and that was definitely new for him. 

“Nothing to say? I thought you weren’t easy?”

“Shut up.”

“I guess you are as easy as everyone says.”

Jimin bridges the gap in a flash, and his hands are fisting the fabric of Jungkook’s t-shirt as he seethes, “I told you to shut up.”

“Is this supposed to scare me? Why don’t you make me, Jimin-ssi?” Jungkook almost laughs, gripping Jimin’s wrists. 

“Oh, is that what you want?” Jimin smirks and lowers his tone, his eyes taunting and wild. “You want me to make you?”  

Jungkook snaps before Jimin can take another breath. He’s gripping Jimin’s jaw in his hand and pushing him through the curtains in the wings until his back hits the black painted brick wall. He finds himself wedged in a corner, Jungkook’s body pressing him hard into it. 

“I’ll let you go, just say the word,” he murmurs, and Jimin can feel his breath on his lips. He doesn’t move, just lets his eyes bore into Jungkook’s with a silent plea. He doesn’t want to be let go, and Jungkook knows it. 

He smashes his lips against Jimin’s, teeth clashing as their mouths fall open to accept one another instantly. Jungkook licks into his mouth with a kind of ferocity, like a dam has burst, every ounce of restraint crumbling away as pent up desire floods his system. He’s still clutching Jimin’s face, the tips of his fingers digging into the skin hard enough that his nails are leaving little crescent shaped indentations. The sting sends Jimin’s mind into a tailspin, and one of his legs jumps to hook around Jungkook’s upper thigh, until Jungkook takes a firm hold of it and hikes it up further past his hip, using the leverage to grind his pelvis into Jimin’s. 

A low rumbling settles in Jimin’s throat when he feels a hard bulge there, the noise spurring Jungkook on even more. His hand slides from Jimin’s jaw around to his faded hair, almost blonde now, and grips the tufts at the nape of his neck, pulling his head back until their kiss breaks. Jungkook draws Jimin’s bottom lip between his teeth, then lets it slip away before swiping his tongue across it. The act slows down their momentum, makes Jimin’s body jolt in anticipation, crave so much more. His fingers make their way underneath the hem of Jungkook’s shirt, scaling up the searing hot skin of his toned abdomen and tracing every ridge up to his pecs. When Jungkook lifts his arms, Jimin does away with the fabric quickly and is too weak to resist lunging forward to taste the sweat salted skin of his neck. The feeling of those plush lips latched onto him has Jungkook rolling his hips, and when Jimin bites down, he sucks in a breath, pinning him back against the wall by his throat. That’s what Jimin wants, he wants to feel those long fingers constricting his windpipe, and when the corners of his mouth lift in a wicked, cat-like grin, Jungkook hears that siren song pulling him back underwater. 

Jimin arches his back, giving himself enough room to slide his jacket off of his shoulders. Before it falls to their feet, Jungkook is already working on Jimin’s belt buckle with his free hand. When he yanks down the zipper of his jeans and palms his cock over his briefs, Jimin clamps his mouth shut to suppress the moan that attempts to escape. Jungkook doesn’t like that. He slots a thigh between Jimin’s legs to hold him steady, simultaneously sliding a finger underneath the band of his underwear and stretching the elastic out before he lets it snap back against Jimin’s skin. 

Jimin’s lips fall open with a small, breathy yelp and he grinds down on Jungkook’s thigh. 

“That’s more like it,” he growls, slowly sliding Jimin’s shirt up and over his head, “let me hear you.” 

Jungkook’s thumb swipes across his nipple and Jimin writhes but still defiantly bites his tongue. He pinches it then, rolling it between his fingers and studying every twitch in Jimin’s expression, the way his eyes flutter and brows knit together. He wants to see Jimin drooling, to reduce him to sobs, overwhelm him with such pleasure that he’ll be ruined for anyone else. Ruined for an idiot like Doyun, and especially for a sleaze like Hyeon-jun. 

Releasing Jimin’s throat, he moves his hand back up, smearing saliva from their kiss all over those swollen, peachy pink lips, and sneaks his thumb inside to press his mouth open. As he does, Jungkook plunges his other hand beneath Jimin’s underwear to finally feel the soft skin of his cock, hard and leaking already. Curling his fingers around the base, Jimin whines, the sound loud and clear and floating into the open air. It tightens that hot coil in Jungkook’s abdomen, sending little bursts like heat waves throughout his body. But Jimin is a deep dive into cool waters, tingling goosebumps rising in a path behind his fingertips as they trail along his skin. 

“Was that so hard? You sound too pretty to hold back,” Jungkook whispers against his neck.

Arousal rolls through Jimin’s body, he’s never heard Jungkook like this, deep and commanding and rasping against his skin. It’s intoxicating, and he wants him to keep talking. Maybe frustrating him will lure out more of the demon lurking underneath those big doe eyes. 

He closes his lips around Jungkook’s thumb, sucking it into his mouth and enveloping it with his tongue. When he lets it go, he says, “If you really want to hear me, you’re gonna have to do better than that.” 

Jungkook doesn’t smirk or smile, he just takes a step back and Jimin tries not to look too obviously confused. Then he takes a hold of Jimin’s jeans and underwear, pulling them down harshly in one go until they’re pooled at his ankles. Tugging his boots off next, Jungkook leaves him entirely stripped bare, and the way his eyes languidly scan up his form, taking in every curve and freckle, makes Jimin cover himself with his arms as best he can. Jungkook grabs him by the hips and turns him around until his face is smashing hard against the brick, Jungkook’s forearm pressed across his shoulder blades to keep him from wiggling even an inch. Rather than a thumb this time, his index and middle fingers are sliding into Jimin’s mouth and he shivers when Jungkook orders him to suck. “Nice and wet,” he murmurs. 

When he’s satisfied, he takes his fingers away, then kicks Jimin’s feet further apart and pulls his hips back until he’s spread wide with his spine arched beautifully. Jungkook grabs his arms and folds them at his lower back, taking both wrists in one hand and Jimin is practically dripping onto the floor. This is what he desired so desperately, being restrained and taken and Jungkook seems to just know that somehow. 

Any further thoughts are wiped clean as Jungkook’s fingers circle around his hole, teasing it without pushing inside. He rubs down his perineum to his balls and back up and Jimin is biting down on his lower lip to keep from begging even if that seems to be exactly what Jungkook is waiting for. He traces light lines up Jimin’s inner thighs, taps the head of his cock and Jimin jumps with a sharp inhale.  

“What do you want?” Jungkook asks as his palm flattens against Jimin’s ass, squeezing and kneading. When he doesn’t answer, Jungkook draws back and gives a hard slap that echoes throughout the auditorium. Jimin keeps his moan trapped behind closed lips, but Jungkook hears it nonetheless. 

“Hm?” He urges, “Tell me what you want.” Another spank, this one harder than the last, and red splotches bloom on Jimin’s skin. 

“I- I want…” Jimin mumbles, mind swimming, drowning, in pure need. He wants everything. Jungkook offers a third slap to his cheek and Jimin cries out. 

“ Jimin-ssi…” Jungkook coos, leaning forward until Jimin can feel his breath hot on his ear, “ what do you want?”

“I…want to suck your cock,” he whines without even thinking. Jungkook chuckles, then nips at his earlobe, the vibrations of his voice sending a wave of chills through Jimin. 

“Yeah? Then get on your knees.” 

Jimin sinks down immediately, too turned on to keep up that feisty rapport of theirs. He just wants to taste Jungkook now , he can be a brat later. Padding his knees with Jungkook’s bunched up t-shirt, Jimin sits back on his heels and yanks open the button of Jungkook’s cargo pants. When he pulls them down, Jungkook kicks them off along with his shoes and Jimin runs his nails up his bare thighs to the hem of his briefs, tugging until his hard cock springs free from the waistband. It’s swollen and flushed, veins pulsing and Jimin can’t resist licking the drop of precum beading at the tip. Jungkook sucks in a breath and takes a fistful of Jimin’s hair, grasping tightly. 

Jimin’s tongue laps along the shaft, slow and teasing until he drops down to take one of his balls into his mouth, and that finally elicits a low groan, rumbling in Jungkook’s throat. Jimin almost feels high from the scent of him as his nose and lips trail back up to the head, the weight of his cock resting heavily against his face. Jungkook takes the base in his free hand then, and on instinct Jimin lets his mouth fall open, tongue out for Jungkook to slap the tip against it. 

“ Fuck, Jimin-hyung,” he huffs out as their eyes meet, and Jimin boldly surges forward to take nearly the entire length into the wet heat of his mouth. Jungkook’s toes curl as he sucks him in deeper, hips bucking just enough to make him gag on it. Tears prick Jimin’s eyes, but he stays there, trying to relax his throat as he salivates around Jungkook’s cock, vision blurring and lungs constricting. When he finally draws back, Jimin gasps for air and Jungkook releases the breath he’d been holding. But he doesn’t waste time, Jimin stretches his lips back around the head, hollowing his cheeks as he begins to bob his head into a steady rhythm, tongue swirling with each stroke. 

“So good, fuck ,” Jungkook mumbles, fingers combing through Jimin’s hair, “So pretty.”

The praise makes Jimin’s stomach tighten and twist, and he doubles his efforts, raising a small hand to pump Jungkook’s shaft in tandem with his mouth. But then he feels sharp pain at his scalp as Jungkook pulls him off by his hair. Jungkook’s face is flushed, sweat beading at his brow and chest heaving, and Jimin hums with a prideful smile. 

“Gonna come already?” He teases, placing kittenish little licks on the head of his cock. 

Jungkook takes a hold of Jimin’s upper arms and yanks him up on his feet, smirking as he pushes him back into the wall by his chest. “Let’s see how long you last, once I split you open.”

“Do your worst,” he says, light and melodic. 

“Can you put your leg over my shoulder?”

Jimin rolls his eyes, “Oh please.” Then lifts his left leg until his ankle hooks onto Jungkook’s shoulder, the other still planted on the floor, though he had to come up onto the ball of his foot to compensate for their height difference. 

A deep hum sounds through Jungkook’s small smile, his hand roaming down the silky smooth skin of Jimin’s thigh. He closes in for another kiss, tender and wet and Jimin can’t help but curl his arms around Jungkook’s neck and melt into it. 

“Open,” Jungkook whispers an inch from his lips, and when Jimin complies, he lets a thick glob of saliva seep into his mouth.

Jimin knows it's dirty, but the simple fact that Jeon Jungkook is spitting into his mouth right now resorts him to nothing but a brainless, mewling mess. He lets it coat his tongue, swirls it around and feels it dribble down his chin. 

When Jungkook holds out his hand, Jimin knows what he’s asking. He opens wider, tongue sticking out to drip onto his fingers, and Jungkook spreads it around to slick them up. When Jimin feels them against his hole this time, they don’t tease. Jungkook presses one finger inside, just up to the first knuckle and wriggles to test Jimin’s stretch. 

“Did you prep yourself?” 

“A little.” 

Jungkook had almost forgotten that Jimin was on the way to Hyeon-jun before this unexpected turn of events. Jimin had fingered himself open for another man, and he felt an ugly, possessive instinct clawing its way to the surface until he could no longer suppress it. His patience was ripped away in an instant and one finger was joined by another, pressing and prodding inside Jimin and drawing delicious little gasps from his lips. 

“I don’t- ah! I don’t have a condom,” Jimin pants, and Jungkook nearly stops his ministrations. 

“I don’t either. I’m clean but-”

“So am I,” Jimin interrupts, looking at him through the lashes of his hooded eyes. “I haven’t…there was only one person since last year and I got tested after.”

Jungkook lets himself be mildly surprised for just a moment. He hates to admit it, but maybe he’d bought into the reputation Jimin was given just as much as anyone else. The reality that Jimin hasn’t dated in nearly a year shatters it. When that moment passes, though, Jungkook feels his blood nearly boil at the thought of fucking Jimin raw. 

He adds a third finger and Jimin winces, hands flying to clutch onto his shoulders as his head falls against the wall. Jungkook can’t resist latching onto the skin of his exposed and bared neck, sucking hard and teething at it until he knows he’ll leave a mark. Keening, Jimin shoves a hand into Jungkook’s hair and keeps him firmly pressed against his neck as if to urge him to bite harder. Jungkook does, and when he pulls back, there are teeth marks nestled amidst already purple-ish skin. 

When he goes to another spot near his collarbone, Jimin yanks his head back, his voice hoarse and stern as he says, “Stop stalling. Don’t you want to fuck me?” Then the corner of his plush, wet lips lifts into a smirk. Jungkook can’t help but admire how beautiful he is when he’s taunting him. 

“Come on, Jungkookie, show me you know what to do with me. Or was that all talk?” His grin widens as he slides a hand down to Jungkook’s hip, tugging him close until their cocks rub against one another, trapped between their bodies. Jungkook answers by plunging his fingers deep, finding Jimin’s sweet spot in one stroke and that sly smile breaks into a gaping moan. 

“We don’t have lube either,” he murmurs after placing a small kiss on Jimin’s jaw. 

“I don’t care.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

Jimin scowls. He doesn’t want Jungkook to be nice. Doesn’t want him to care. He just wants him to fuck him stupid until he can’t think, and then this will all be out of his system. 

“Then don’t,” he says, taking Jungkook’s cock in his hand as he lowers his chin to let another string of saliva drizzle onto it. As tempting as it is to follow his lead, Jungkook remembers then that the lead actors’ dressing rooms are just two doors down, and if he still knows Tae, he always has massage oil in his stage makeup bag. 

“Stay,” he commands, and Jimin flashes him a pout. Jungkook snickers and disappears behind the curtain, only to return a minute later wearing a grin oozing with triumph and carrying a small brown bottle in his hand. 

“Ooh, Taehyungie’s gonna be upset,” Jimin giggles. 

“We’ll replace it,” Jungkook dismisses, already unscrewing the cap as he regains his place against Jimin’s body. But Jimin turns around and braces himself against the wall, sticking his ass out and presenting as prettily as he can. Running a strong hand down his spine, Jungkook hums and rubs the oil onto his own cock, lazily stroking it and watching Jimin wiggle his rear with hunger in his gaze. 

Then Jimin brings his hands to his own asscheeks and spreads, clearly impatient. Jungkook chuckles and presses the tip to his hole.

The slide in is tight, a little resistant, but Jimin doesn’t seem to feel any pain. If anything, with every inch that gets sucked past his rim, his lips are falling open further and further, and his hips are pushing back on Jungkook to take even more. When he bottoms out, Jimin realizes he’s never felt so full in his life, never had anything fit inside him so perfectly, curved just enough to hit all the right spots. It’s almost overwhelming how good it feels even as Jungkook stands entirely still. 

“I’m gonna move now,” Jungkook warns, and Jimin breathes out a small, “ Please.”  

He’s hesitant at first, pulling out about halfway before easing back in, and even that faint movement makes Jungkook hiss, “ Shit , you’re so tight…” 

“Move more, faster,” Jimin mumbles, rolling his hips again to spur him on. 

Confident that Jimin has more than sufficiently adjusted now, Jungkook draws his cock out until the head catches on his rim, and doesn’t hold back when he slams back inside. There’s a sharp slap when their bare skin meets, and Jimin’s ass ripples from the force as he cries out. 

“Oh fuck,” he whimpers when Jungkook launches into a ruthless pace, fingers digging into his waist and pulling him back onto his cock with each thrust. Jimin’s nails grind into the brick, desperate for something to grab onto, something to support him. Air is knocked out of his lungs, and he can barely bring himself to moan properly, only shallow little whining breaths leave his throat. Then his body is electrified when he feels a stinging sensation on his ass cheek. 

“D-Do it again.”

“Do what?” Jungkook echoes and Jimin can hear the smugness in his tone.

“Spank me, spank me again.”

Jungkook groans, rubs into his skin before pulling back and smacking it harder. Jimin lets out a high, lilting cry, “Again!” 

More than happy to oblige, Jungkook swipes his palm back down, drunk on the way Jimin’s entire body jolts at the contact. He’s descending on a dark path now, one where he wants to claim and consume, and he gives himself over to the desire. 

Pulling out with no warning, Jungkook takes Jimin roughly by the shoulders and turns him until his back is against the wall again. He wants to see those pretty eyes full of tears, watch his every expression as pleasure drowns him. Hands sliding from his ass to the backs of his upper thighs, Jungkook pulls him up, and Jimin wraps his legs around his waist. Wedging Jimin between his body and the wall, Jungkook reaches down to lead his cock back inside. He promptly starts to bounce Jimin’s body on the length of it, reveling in how disheveled he already looks: the deep blush on his cheeks, lips bitten red and eyes screwed shut, hair damp and curling into gentle waves. The thought that anyone else has ever had the privilege to see Jimin reduced to an ethereal mess, glowing and sobbing and beautiful, is inconceivable. No one else deserves it. 

“Did he fuck you like this?” Jungkook growls as Jimin’s head lolls back, his body helplessly supported by only Jungkook’s weight still pinning him against the brick. His pace is brutal, hips snapping up into Jimin with such fervor that he’s practically seeing stars. With each thrust, the head of Jungkook’s cock buries itself against Jimin’s prostate, mercilessly attacking it over and over and Jimin doesn’t know how much longer he’ll last. 

Then he feels the rough texture of the wall behind him scrape down his bare back as Jungkook lowers them to the hardwood of the stage. He lays Jimin out, arms plopping down at his sides, and takes a bruising grip to his hips, lifting the lower half of his body to meet him as his pounding becomes even more rigorous. 

“ Fuck , answer me, Jimin-ssi. Does he fuck you this good?” Jungkook repeats breathlessly, hunching over Jimin’s small frame and clutching fistfuls of his hair to hold him close. 

“N-No,” Jimin pants, his voice small as he lets his head roll to the side. 

“I can’t hear you,” Jungkook says, sitting back on his heels and pulling Jimin up with him like a ragdoll. His arms fling around Jungkook’s neck, clinging to him and lightly moaning against the shell of his ear as he starts to ride Jungkook in frantic, grinding circles. “Mm…to the back row, right? Come on, baby, say it.” 

Wrapping long fingers around Jimin’s cock, Jungkook squeezes the base, forcing a broken sob through his lips. 

“No, he doesn’t- ah! He doesn’t…fuck me like you do,” he whines, bouncing against Jungkook’s hips to meet his thrusts, no matter how weak his legs have become, “n-no one fucks me like you.” 

“Fuck, fuck, Jimin-ah ,” Jungkook moans, pumping Jimin’s cock as his other arms constricts around him in a suffocating hold. 

Now that he’s started, Jimin can’t seem to stop. “So good, Jungkoo-ah, you feel so good, you’re gonna make me fucking come,” he babbles, almost incoherent as desperate, choking moans intersperse his words. 

“Yeah? Are you gonna come for me baby?” Jungkook murmurs, sucking Jimin’s earlobe through his teeth. 

“Yes, oh god, yes .” 

Jungkook’s strokes get quicker, sharp flicks of his wrist as he watches Jimin unravel. His lashes are wet with tears that stream down his pink cheeks, his nails are carving crescents into Jungkook’s shoulders, and soon his back is arching, muscles tensing, and a piercing cry rips from his throat. The sound is music to Jungkook’s ears, laced with undeniable pleasure. 

Jimin can’t think, can’t even breathe as he’s wracked with ecstasy, held in its paralyzing clutches as wave after wave rolls through him. Somewhere deep in his mind, he knows he’s probably breaking Jungkook’s skin, yet that thought makes it all even more delicious. His cum spurts onto Jungkook’s abdomen and chest, and yet he keeps stroking, milking Jimin for every drop. 

Jimin is spasming, clenching around Jungkook’s cock, and with his sweet voice ringing in his ears, it’s all too much to bear. Gripping Jimin’s jaw, he brings their lips crashing together as he spills guttural groans into his mouth. Jimin drinks them like wine, swirling his tongue around Jungkook’s and reaching down to clamp his fingers into his nipple. Jungkook’s hips jerk wildly, mind blank and vision white as he comes instantly from the sensation. 

“That’s it, fill me up,” Jimin coos against his lips, and Jungkook is gone. His voice raises an octave or two as he throws his head back and moans louder than he thinks he ever has before. Jimin is still wrapped around him, limbs locked at his neck and waist, and Jungkook collapses, rolling onto his back and holding Jimin to his chest. Just as his breathing starts to even back out, Jimin flicks his nipple again and his whole body shudders. 

“So sensitive here,” he teases with a wicked little laugh. 

“I think my soul left my body,” Jungkook breathes out, and Jimin giggles harder, his voice like tinkling bells. 

Then, the auditorium’s main entrance flies open and Jungkook grabs Jimin and tucks them into the corner with lightning fast reflexes. They scoop their discarded clothes into their arms and shuffle further backstage, hand in hand as they meander around stacks of leaning plywood and tables full of tools. 

Then Jungkook curses under his breath and darts back out to snatch up his abandoned, cold bag of chicken. Jimin does his best not to laugh as a naked Jungkook rejoins him, cradling the bag and snatching his hand again to keep descending further backstage. 

Hiding behind a makeshift apartment wall that Namjoon had just painted the day before, they hold each other close and cover their mouths, trying to quiet their breathing enough to hear whoever nearly walked in on them. Jimin squirms uncomfortably, a cold trail of cum and sweat leaking down his inner thighs.

“Why did they deliver it to the admin office?! The note clearly said Theatre Department!” Director Sung’s booming voice echoes throughout every inch of the vast space. 

“Those guys never listen,” Yoongi huffs, attempting to lug the other end of an enormous vacuum sealed cylinder down the aisle towards the stage. Two techies are hugging their arms around the middle, dragging it with him and making little headway. 

“I didn’t know backdrops were so heavy,” one of them whines. 

“Oh yeah, which is why it should have been delivered here !” Director Sung seethes, “If we can just get it hung, you can test the lights on it. I just need to make sure the color is alright.”

“If it isn’t, I’ll order the right filters tonight. It might need to be warmer,” Yoongi says, taking a break to wipe the sweat off of his brow. 

Jungkook feels laughter welling in his throat, maybe because this would be the worst time to make a single sound, and that makes his body betray him. Jimin sees his shoulders shaking and smacks him on the bicep, shushing him. But then his own lips curl into a grin, and he purses them to try and make it stop. When their eyes meet, Jungkook’s nose crunches and he bites his bottom lip in a last ditch effort not to burst out laughing. Jimin buries his face in his chest and lets a small snort slip out. 

They quietly and very carefully slip their underwear and pants back on, and when Jimin lifts his arms to put them through the sleeves of his shirt, he knocks a paintbrush off the ledge next to him. It clatters to the floor, so annoyingly loudly and he gasps. Yoongi says something distantly about the noise, and Jungkook grabs Jimin’s hand and takes off to the opposite end of the stage behind the main curtain. Weaving through the sets, they emerge near the stage doors and slip out, still barefoot and clutching their shoes. Once they’re down the dimly lit hall far enough, they both explode in cackling laughter, leaning on each other and doubling over. 

“I can’t believe they showed up, it's like nine o’clock!” Jimin wheezes between giggles. 

“Seriously, we’re just lucky it wasn’t a few minutes earlier,” Jungkook snickers, running a hand through his damp curls. 

Then something shifts in the air. Jimin comes down from the adrenaline and the weight of what they’ve done sits on his chest like a ton of concrete. He steps away from Jungkook and clears his throat, mumbling, “We should- I should really, um, get home now.”

“Need a ride?”

He almost blurts out an immediate ‘no’, but he really doesn’t want to ride the train or a bus reeking of sex. The wet spots he can feel on his jeans are embarrassing enough as it is. Yet as Jungkook walks behind him to the car, knowing he can see them makes his face run hot all over again. 

And when he gingerly settles into the passenger seat, the side mirror giving him a glimpse of several hickeys that paint his neck like watercolor, all Jimin can think is, ‘What have I gotten myself into now…?’