Chapter Text
I stare at the questionnaire I'm supposed to fill out for Festa, slouched on our worn dorm couch. The fabric's gone thin where we all tend to sit - there's even a small burn mark from when Taehyung knocked over ramyeon last winter. The dorm feels too quiet with everyone gone, just the distant sound of Jungkook's voice floating from the shower, some English song he's been obsessed with lately.
Question 3: Rate your closeness with Min Yoongi (1-100%)
Of course the producers assigned me HIM. People love to watch our banter - the way Yoongi-hyung barely contains his eye roll before delivering some cutting remark that makes me squawk in protest. The fans eat it up. If they only knew.
Through the open window, the early June evening drifts in - humid air, the distant sound of traffic, the smell of someone grilling meat somewhere nearby. The empty dorm feels strange, like a stage between scenes. Even the usual chaos of shoes by the door seems to mock me - Taehyung's expensive ones missing, Yoongi-hyung's pumas nowhere to be seen.
"Closeness?"
The question feels like a blade.
I run a hand through my hair and let out a frustrated yell. My throat feels raw - too many hours of practice, too many nights of not enough sleep. Did I think everything was going to be rainbows and kittens after the night in the hotel?
No.
I'm not that naive anymore - not the wide-eyed Busan boy who first walked into BigHit with dreams bigger than his fear, who thought hard work could fix everything, who believed in fairy tales and happy endings.
What was I expecting after he slept all night in my arms and let me have him one more time in the morning, slow, romantic even - the way his cat-like eyes stayed fixed on mine, dark and wanting, the way his pale skin flushed pink when I traced his injured shoulder with my mouth, how he whispered "Jiminie" like it meant everything? How he let me see him vulnerable, all his sharp edges gone soft in the dawn light? And then came home to pull up the drawbridge and set crocodiles into the moat?
The only surprising thing is that I was surprised at all.
That I'd actually hoped for something to be different. Just a little shift
His official story is that he is working on a mixtape. A project just for him. And sure, he deserves it. Needs it even. But what about us? Me? He just disappears into his studio for days, I catch glimpses of him up the hallway with dark circles under his eyes, shoulders hunched under his oversized hoodie, avoiding eye contact. I've heard the same beat loop endlessly through the wall until I could hum it in my sleep - if I was sleeping. Min Yoongi, eternally married to his music. It's easier for him that way - emotions are messy, unpredictable, dangerous. But music? Music he can control, can perfect, can share without giving away too much of himself. Can love without risking anything in real life.
I get it. I do. Music won't look at you with hearts in its eyes. Music won't trace the line of your jaw with trembling fingers and whisper how beautiful you are. Music won't expect anything back.
The questionnaire sits there, judging me with its cheerful company letterhead and empty spaces waiting to be filled with fan-friendly lies. A headache forms behind my eyes, radiating to my temples.
I put myself out there - stripped away the idol mask, the perfect Jimin smile, all my careful boundaries. Showed him exactly what he means to me, how deep this goes. Laid my heart bare in that hotel room like some lovesick idiot. And for what?
He doesn't even see it, does he? Like... I'm the one who practices in front of mirrors until four in the morning, who plans every detail until the members want to strangle me. Who calculates every move, every expression, every word. And then I just... what? Threw my whole heart at him because…? I bury my face in my hands.
Because he is Min fucking Yoongi and all that entails.
Aish, Park Jimin-ah... you really are something else.
Pabo.
Fool.
I grab my pen and scrawl my answer–90%--my hand steadier than it has any right to be. Perfectly believable. Close enough to make the fans happy, distant enough to be safe. Nobody has to know that missing 10% is carved into my chest, keeping me staring at my ceiling every night, replaying every moment, every touch, every whispered word.
What's one more performance from Park Jimin, right?
But lately I've been wondering - how many lies can you tell before you forget what's true? I've been the idol for so long now, Park Jimin the dancer, Park Jimin who's close-but-not-too-close with his hyung. Park Jimin who's fine, who's professional, who's handsome. Sometimes I catch myself in the practice room mirror and I'm not sure anymore - which smile is real? Which laugh? After all these last few years of being what everyone needs me to be, what's left that's actually mine?
I almost laugh at myself. Listen to me, like I'm not just trying to avoid the simple fact: when Yoongi touches me, when he looks at me with hungry dark eyes, when his deep voice goes soft just for me - that's the only time all the questions in my head go quiet. The only time I'm not wondering which version of myself I'm supposed to be.
Maybe that's what scares me most.
At least the crocodiles in his moat are eating well. I hope they choke on my confessions - if they're even real anymore. Maybe I've practiced this hurt so many times it's just another choreography now.
Maybe I've gotten so good at pretending that even I can't tell the difference.
"Jiiiiiiiiimin." Jungkook crashes onto the couch next to me, all limbs and restless energy. "I'm going insane. Everyone's busy. Taehyung's with the Hwarang hyungs."
"You're jealous?" I raise an eyebrow, hearing the note in his voice.
"No," he mutters too fast, then, "Fine. Maybe. A little. He keeps sending selcas with them. I don't think he misses me at all."
"Ah, our Kookie's feeling neglected?" I reach to pinch his cheek but he swats my hand away.
"Whatever. What are you doing anyway?" His eyes fall on my questionnaire and he groans. "You got Yoongi-hyung?"
I feel my face heat up. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Just that you get all weird lately when he's around. Like yesterday in practice? When you came up behind him and tried to show that funny YouTube video and he jumped out of his skin. You pouted for over an hour."
"I did not—"
"You did though." He steals my pen, starting to doodle in the corner of my paper. "So annoying."
I grab for the pen but he holds it out of reach. "Says the one who's sulking because Taehyung has new friends."
"That's different," he says, still keeping the pen away from me. "At least I know what I'm sulking about."
"And what's that supposed to mean?"
He shrugs, but his eyes are too sharp. "Just that lately you look at Yoongi-hyung like he's a math problem you can't solve. And I thought you were good at math."
"I am good at—" I start, then stop. "It's not—"
"You don't have to tell me anything," he says, softer now. "But something's different. You're different."
I stare at the questionnaire, at that damning 90%. "Sometimes I think I don't know how to be any other way except different. It's awkward."
"Hey." He pokes my cheek. "That's almost my line, Mochi Face. I'm just me. Awkward."
"You?" I scoff. "You're not awkward. You're just... selective about your chaos."
"Unlike some people who just throw their feelings everywhere?" His grin is teasing but gentle.
"Yah!" I snatch for the pen again. "I do not throw—"
"Please. You're like one of those firework shows. All sparkle and boom."
"That's... actually kind of nice?"
"Wasn't meant to be." But he's smiling. "Sometimes I think that's why Taehyung and I... why it works, you know? Because neither of us tries to be anything except what we are. Even when it's messy."
I feel something catch in my throat. "When did you get so wise, Jeon Jungkook?"
"About the time you noticed." He finally hands the pen back. "It's going to be okay, hyung. Be brave. Fighting!"
"Brave?" I laugh, but it comes out hoarse. "I practice the same move for eight hours because I'm scared of getting it wrong. I check the mirror a hundred times before leaving my room. I'm not—"
"That's not what I mean and you know it." He pulls his legs up, wrapping his arms around his knees. "You're brave with your heart. You always have been. Even when we were trainees and everything was scary and new, you just... loved us. All of us. No hesitation."
"That's different."
"Why? Because it's Yoongi-hyung?"
"Whoa." My heart stutters. "I never said—"
"You didn't have to." He rests his chin on his knees. "I get it, you know? Why you're scared. But hyung... maybe being scared is okay? Maybe it's not about not being scared, but about doing it anyway?"
I look at him – really look at him. "Is that what you do? With Taehyung?"
His smile goes soft at the corners. "Every day. But then he'll do something completely ridiculous like send me a three-minute video of him making faces at a dog, and I remember – oh yeah, that's why. That's why it's worth it."
"Even when he's off making new friends and forgetting about you?"
"He's not forgetting." Jungkook's voice is sure. "He's just... expanding. And I have to let him, you know? Because trying to keep him small would be like... I don't know...like trying to keep sunshine in a jar."
"When did you get so poetic?"
"Probably around the time you started doodling '90%' on papers while sighing like a drama heroine."
"Yah!" I kick at him, but there's no heat in it. "You are a pain."
"Eh, you love me." He stands up, stretching. "Maybe try loving yourself though?"
"I—" I start, but he cuts me off.
"Enough talking. I'm starving and if I stay here being wise much longer I might die. Let's get chicken."
I look at my questionnaire one last time. 90%. Such a careful number. Such a safe distance.
"Yeah," I say, getting up. "Food sounds good."
"Good, because you're buying."
"What? You just watched me have an emotional crisis and now you want me to pay?"
His grin is pure evil. "Think of it as my wisdom fee."
I roll my eyes.
He heads for the door, then pauses. "Hyung?"
"Mm?"
"Whatever's going on with you and Yoongi-hyung... I hope you figure it out."
I feel something warm in my chest. "Thanks, Jungkook-ah."
He just smiles that bunny smile and drags me toward food. And if I feel a little lighter, a little braver – well, maybe that's what dongsaengs are for.
The questionnaire can wait. For now, there's food to eat and a maknae to spoil.
And maybe, just maybe, some courage to find.
[2:34 AM] hyunggggg are you in your studio? of course you're in your studio that's where you live now right? your new home with your beats and your walls and your whatever
[2:37 AM] did you know did you know jungkookie bought me soju because I was sad isn't that sweet? he's such a good dongsaeng unlike SOME people who just who just pretend nothing happened
[2:41 AM] you know what's funny? I wrote 90% on that stupid form NINETY that's like that's almost perfect but the thing is the thing is that other 10% it's killing me it's actually killing me hyung
[2:43 AM] why are you like this? why did you have to why did you have to look at me like that? touch me like that? if you were just going to if you were just
[2:46 AM] I hate that I can still feel your hands I hate that I know what your skin tastes like I hate that I know how you sound when never mind never mind never mind never mind
[2:48 AM] I don't hate it that's the problem I don't hate any of it I don't hate you I wish I did
[2:50 AM] your mixtape better be worth it it better be the best thing anyone's ever heard since you chose it over over
[2:51 AM] whatever I'm going to bed don't reply to this I mean you won't anyway right? that's your thing now being quiet being gone
[2:55 AM] hyung I miss you I miss you so much it hurts please just
[2:56 AM] ignore that last one ignore all of them I'm just I'm just drunk that's all just drunk just Park Jimin being too much again
[Delete message?] [Message deleted.] [Delete message?] [Message deleted.] [Delete message?] [Message deleted.]
[3:01 AM] good night hyung: fighting ... ❤️
[Delete message?] [Message deleted.]