Sometimes, Jungkook really hates his eyes.
Jimin knows that when his irises turn a deep red, resembling that of burnt umber, it means all variants of anger-- arising when Jungkook loses a round of Mario Kart that strikes a low and petty blow to his ego as a proponent of competition, becomes frustrated when he’s unable to make that absolutely perfect stroke of detail he’s trying to recreate in a painting, and mostly definitely when Jimin keeps borrowing his shampoo without asking for permission and keeps on leaving his belongings all over his living room floor when he comes over to freeload (but of course, Jungkook can never stay mad at him and his angelic character for too long).
There’s aquamarine blue for when he’s feeling all doom and gloom and blue; a dark indigo with a lingering grey shadow when he’s feeling mercurial like the rainy skies; a golden orange with flecks of warm yellow when he’s happy and carefree; a murky green for when he’s feeling sick and tired and a rich brown for when he’s feeling neutral and generally placid about life.
There were many colours that came with different kinds of moods, each to their own individuality that was certainly distinctable. And, well-- Jungkook felt relief and joy to know that Jimin was more fascinated with such a phenomenon than skeptical as he eagerly pursued him with questions concerning the malleable colours of his eyes and wanting to know what each meant to the point where Jungkook felt comfortable enough to forgo his sunglasses around him, until one day--
“Hey, Jungkook,” Jimin sits his chin on top of his palms quite endearingly with elbows over his pile of notes, pink cheeks squished while he leans forward with soft blonde locks falling above rounded eyes that blink curiously as he stares right into Jungkook’s soul, “I’ve been wondering about your eyes.”
“Yeah?” Jungkook hums nonchalantly, “About?”
“They’re pink. What does the colour pink mean?”
Taken aback, Jungkook nearly chokes on a piece of cheeto he was simultaneously about to swallow in his mouth, hacking and wheezing away until he chugs down his bottle of water to wash it away. He ignores the warmth rising to his cheeks, not sure if it’s because he’s flustered from the question or from the unabashed stare he’s receiving from Jimin, but he stalls time by wiping his mouth in order to think of a plausible excuse, “Oh, uh. Um. Well, uh. You know. Pink? Is like? A really… really complex colour which means that it’s also a very, very, very complex mood as well. It’s - it’s not easy to put it into words, you know?” He laughs nervously with plenty of holes in his shrill voice that most definitely gives him away. Great job, Jeon. Way to be natural.
“Oh,” Jimin frowns and cutely tilts his head in confusion, “but your eyes are only pink around me though. What does that mean, then?”
Jungkook’s mind draws a blank. Abort abort abort abort abort -
“Wow! Look at the time!” Jungkook exclaims way too excitedly as he glances at his wrist that does not, in fact, have a watch, but he still goes along with the act as he jumps up from his seat and starts packing away his things. Jimin watches him with suspicion as Jungkook shoves the bag of cheetos he had brought over to Jimin’s dorm for their session of mutual procrastistudying, as well as his laptop where he had been scrolling through cat compilation videos instead of writing that art history paper that’s due in, like, a week (in his case, Jungkook had been pro-cat-inating), “Sorry. Gotta jet!”
“Huh? For what? Why are you in a hurry?” Jimin asks dubiously as Jungkook slips on his trendy sunglasses and almost trips over the leg of the chair when he was trying to tuck it into the table as the nice and thoughtful citizen he takes pride in being, “I thought we were going to get bubble tea together after we finish studying to treat ourselves!”
“Well! Change of plans, actually. I got a - a text from, uh. Namjoon! He broke the shower head again and he needs someone to fix it because, ha. You know him. He’s super clumsy. If he tries to fix it himself, he’ll probably end up destroying the entire shower system by accident. So, duty calls!” Jungkook flashes him a twitchy smile and a pair of finger guns and flees before he can see the bewildered but borderline incredulous expression cast across Jimin’s frowning face.
Jungkook can only breathe a sigh of relief as he rushes out of the door; in no fucking way is he letting the framework of his eyes give away his feelings for his best friend. Not going to happen.
Jungkook didn’t always have this anomaly to his eyes. In fact, it wasn’t that long ago that he was granted with such a feat that could be both a blessing and a curse-- more of a curse, if he was being frank. Let’s just say that Jungkook had woken up one, fine morning feeling slightly groggy and inexplicably ill and when he went to view himself in the mirror to clean up, he noticed the vivid discrepancies of his eye colour that most definitely didn’t belong to him.
After a series of trials and errors, do’s and don’ts and strange discoveries, learning his eye colours through spontaneous moods (he’s never been more inwardly connected with himself until this very idiosyncrasy happened; who needs meditation when you’ve got eyes that change colours according to your mood?), he began to practically wear sunglasses everyday 24/7. Not that he couldn’t trust people because Jungkook is totally a trusting person, he just finds the whole… explaining part difficult, as well as watching the other party either panic or stare at him as though they were about to hand Jungkook over to the government for experimentation. Jungkook was not risking that.
Not to mention that every time he’s around his Best Friend, his Best Bro, his Homeboy, his Broseph, his Pablo Picassbro, the Batman to his Robin and the jam to his jelly roll and his Brotagonist: Park fucking Jimin, his eyes mirror what his heart feels.
And was Jungkook ready for his feelings to be seen? Like, literally?
You see, Jungkook had been hellbent on having his sunglasses on around Jimin - especially him - because he was not an enthusiast of wearing his heart on his sleeve. His eyes turned pink even at the thought of Park Jimin - even looking at a picture of Jimin made his eyes turn pink because his chest was always fluttering with a vibrant warmth, a tickling sensation that made him want to laugh and roll around his bed like a giddy tween with a crush the size of Manhattan and he had a lot of pictures of him. (Not creepy at all. They were friends and that meant taking at least ten selfies each day together.)
He was on alert every second of the day and the only time he let his guard down was when he was home alone and on the weekends where he was free from school and work, becoming a troglodyte that belted out OST songs into a water bottle with only boxers and socks on. Coincidentally and unfortunately enough, that was the day he chose to have forgotten to lock his own door - which was also the day Jimin chose to show up unannounced (with a heart of gold, really, that unbelievable humanitarian) to surprise him with takeout.
Jungkook had screamed because: one, Jungkook was in his boxers with mortifying heart prints on them and socks which was embarrassing as fuck and two, Jungkook didn’t have his sunglasses on and he was pretty sure that his eyes had changed from a golden, sunny orange to a bright, cerise red that conveyed mortification and utmost embarrassment, the same hue as his flaring cheeks.
And Jimin had merely stared at him, jaw dropping and eyes widening into the size of Saturn, takeout dropping onto the floor. Silence suspended in the air while Jungkook fumbled for a pair of pants because his boxers were incriminating, especially since Jungkook was trying to show that he’s mature and a capable grown up.
All Jimin could assume in that wild moment was, “Oh my god, you’re a vampire.”
And the rest was pretty much history.
Cue the present day, where now only Jimin and a selective few knew of his oddity and with Jungkook battling his feelings and cursing every time his eyes became susceptible to Jimin’s charm. Because fuck, why was it so easy to fall in love with the guy but so hard to fall out of love with him? There was an unspoken bro code to not fall in love with said bro and there Jungkook fucking was, having fallen in love with the guy.
Pink is the only colour that Jimin has yet to know the meaning of and Jungkook wants to keep it that way.
“Do you wear your sunglasses all the time? Like, even in the theatres? At night too?” Jimin asks beside him as they walk along the street, where Jungkook was making up for the bubble tea he had skipped out on the other day. Thankfully, they’re in public so Jimin won’t be able to hound him for more questions out of his curious propensities.
“Well, duh. I can’t let people see the colours of my eyes change. That’s not normal, is it?” Jungkook retorts back, waving his hands around, “I mean, you took the whole thing pretty well. I thought you would have reported me to the police or something and they would have incarcerated me because of supposed witchcraft and magic tomfoolery. You know how authorities are these days. They’ve got their heads up in their ass too far to even look at things logically and fairly.”
“A flair for the dramatic as always. Cynical, too.” Jimin rolls his eyes, nose scrunching as he delicately wipes his nose with his small fingers that peek out from the long sleeves of his big, pink sweater and there - right there, as the afternoon sun rises beyond the wispy clouds and shines its brilliant rays above, alighting his feathery and soft features with an airy and graceful glow, Jungkook nearly chokes on his own spit and almost walks straight into a telephone pole from how much he was blatantly staring in captivation. He dodges it in time, of course, but he earns a concerned look from Jimin.
“You okay?” Jimin raises a brow.
“Yeah - yeah, I was just. You know,” Jungkook shrugs sporadically, feigning coolness, “admiring the view.”
This time, Jimin raises both of his eyebrows and Jungkook just wants the sky to fall on him already, because did he really just - what? Inadvertently flirt? Him, Jeon Jungkook, king of embarrassing himself and being an awkward edgelord with absolutely no experience in the arts of seduction, just had to somehow use his stupid mouth to expose himself. To his goddamn friend. His Bro.
But what he doesn’t expect next is for Jimin to throw himself into a fit of giggles, eyes curving into the shape of half-moons as he beams up at Jungkook, voice in a teasing lilt, “Yeah, baby?”
Oh god, as if Jungkook’s heart wasn’t melting enough at the sound of his endearing laugh, but at being called - baby?
With eyes surely as pink as his cheeks, Jungkook was too busy staring at Jimin open-mouthed that he didn’t even notice that he was about to walk right into the - nevermind, he did walk right into the door of the bubble tea house, smacking the side of his face onto the glass pane and knocking the circular sunglasses off from his face from the unruly impact.
Although Jimin’s laughter subsidized, his heart of gold takes over as he holds Jungkook by the shoulders and breathily asks, “Oh my god, Jungkook, are you okay?”
Though Jungkook stumbled a bit from the sudden collision, he eagerly nods as he blinks away the disorientation and wheezes, “I’m fine, but ow.”
“Ah, really. You should watch where you’re going next time or else you’ll get seriously hurt.” Jimin scolds him gently with a frown as he bends down to pick up his sunglasses. He cradles them in his hands but he doesn’t make a move to return it to Jungkook, to which he finds it odd since Jungkook was sticking his hand out with impatient gesturing but it isn’t until a fleeting moment of realization that Jungkook finally notices that Jimin has been staring at his eyes.
Jimin looks fascinated and in awe, plump lips parted in an expression of curiosity, and Jungkook can feel his whole face flush all the way to the tips of his ears and down to his neck from Jimin’s unabashed gazing, heart stuttering like how Jungkook would be if he opened his mouth at this instance.
“Your eyes are pink again,” Jimin notes with a keen smile, “I wonder what that means?”
That’s for Jungkook to know and for Jimin to never find out, so Jungkook snatches his sunglasses away from Jimin’s hands and hurriedly puts them on, awkward shrill laughter spilling past his mouth as his voice ascends in pitch, “Wow! Look at the weather! God, it’s so hot right now-- “ It is, in fact, not hot as the spring season possesses strong winds that could probably break his tenth umbrella of the month on a rainy day, but he goes along with the act and with fake swagger, moves towards the door of the bubble tea house, “we should really go get our drinks, huh? Cool down and all? Sound good? Great.”
There’s a slight furrow in Jimin’s brow as he observes him quizzically, but follows after him into the house. They order their usual drinks-- although Jungkook tries a new flavour this time, deviating from his usual honeydew boba for rose milk tea. For the remainder of their waiting time, Jungkook wills himself to crack a few lame jokes in an attempt to clear away the residue of his sudden shyness caused by the prior accident that’s slowly eating him up inside, but his heart warms up at the sound and sight of Jimin laughing, feeling content with himself.
However, he quickly becomes weary when Jimin, being the perky and curious scholar that he is, compares Jungkook to that of a rainbow shrimp, where suddenly the skewed logic of having eyes that change colour depending on his mood means he probably had more than 12 photoreceptors in his eyes like the crustacean as well-- it was cool, but frankly quite implausible.
“Is it good?” Jimin asks as they exit the house with their drinks. Jungkook likes the way rose milk tea tastes - it was floral and pleasant and sweet on his tongue. Just as Jungkook was about to answer, he makes the grave mistake of looking up at Jimin, who was holding his taro drink close to him with both of his hands, sipping from the straw and nibbling on the black pearls with full, pink lips and Jungkook just wanted to stop whatever they were doing to take a picture of Jimin and capture the moment, because holy fucking shit who allowed him to be this fucking adorable and gorgeous and perfect i’m going to sue all mankind for this outrageous fuckery for doing this weird flippery flipping fuck to my heart -
“Jungkook,” A coy smile grows on Jimin’s face, cheeks dusted with pink, “you’re staring again.”
Jungkook blinks and all his nerves seemed to have sparked concurrently in that dire moment, “Oh. Oh. Yeah, I - I was just, you know - wow! It - it tastes great!” He quickly swerves the topic before he can further make matters worse for himself, “I’ve never tasted anything so good in my entire life!” He laughs victoriously as he brings his drink up into the air as though he’s found the world’s remaining lost treasure.
“That’s what you said about the honeydew one and you declared it as your one and only favourite in the world and that all the flavours can go - “
“Here, try some!” Jungkook exclaims as he shoves his drink at Jimin’s face, skittishly grinning, “I think you’ll like it, since you like sweet things.”
“Really?” Jimin asks him with a bit of uncertainty, “You normally don’t like sharing. In general.” He smiles brightly, teasing again, “You really like me that much?”
Jungkook splutters and shakes his drink at him petulantly, “Just try it.”
Jimin titters as he takes a sip of his rose milk tea, humming enthusiastically as his eyes illuminates with a new profound love for the flavour, and his smile grows in accordance to such excitement, “It really does taste good.”
“Told you,” Jungkook says, satisfied as he brings the straw to his mouth to drink from, and he doesn’t think much of it until -
“That was kind of like an indirect kiss, huh?”
Jungkook ends up choking and sputtering the pearls out of his mouth when he inhaled the tea that initiated an entire hacking fit in the middle of the street, where his eyes became teary in the midst of coughing away his soul and twenty years of his life span out of his trachea. He’s on the verge of exploding because that was entirely unexpected and he wasn’t even thinking about the indirect kiss - wait oh my god an indirect kiss an indirect fucking kiss we had an indirect kiss we had an indirect -
“Oh my god, Jungkook, I was joking! Are you okay?” Jimin sounds worried for his dear life as he adamantly rubs Jungkook’s back in attempt to soothe away his coughing fit.
“I’m okay,” Jungkook wheezes, definitely not okay.
“Yeah, I was just, um. Surprised.“ Jungkook fights back a blush from creeping up his cheeks as he attempts to compose himself, giving Jimin a strained smile of reassurance.
Jimin blinks as though his mind was slowly arriving to the terminal of realization of what he had remarked earlier about the indirect kiss and suddenly, looks timid now - even embarrassed. He lets out a bashful laugh and glances down, running a small hand through his soft, blonde locks. With how demure he seems, Jungkook’s heart is practically soaring sky high into the clouds, past the troposphere and into space, beyond the stars and undiscovered planets and multitudes of brilliant galaxies because it was insane at how even the simplest things could make him fall deeper and deeper.
The entire world looks pink to him at that moment.
Jimin, for one, is not happy.
Operation Figure Out What The Fuck Colour Pink Means is not going so well, (no) thanks to Jungkook’s uncooperative ass - the jerk’s even implementing the fundamental technique of complete evasion into their usual hangouts, thus leaving Jimin to sit in the cafe near campus all alone. He’s cushioning his cheek with a palm as he petulantly glares down at his phone and the messages left read but unreplied from Jungkook; as expected of that gutless punk.
“What happened?” Jin asks as he stops by his table balancing a tray of dirty dishes. He raises an eyebrow at the sight of Jimin’s brooding face and sullen pout, and with a certain realization sinking in, he lets out the heaviest sigh known to mankind, “Let me guess - Namjoon broke the shower head again. Jesus Christ, I keep telling him to handle the stupid thing with care. What does he even do with the goddamn thing - oh God, we’re going to have to take him to the ER one day if he keeps this up-- “
“Let’s not talk about why he keeps breaking the shower head, okay?” Jimin interrupts him just in time to spare his ears and his innocence. He deflates afterwards and leans his arms forward onto the table, sitting his chin into the crook of his elbow, “Besides, it’s not about Namjoon.”
“Then why so glum, chum?”
Jimin shifts to glare at his phone properly, crinkling his nose in displeasure, “It’s Jungkook. I’ve been asking him what the colour of his eyes mean when it’s pink but he won’t tell me. And now, he’s avoiding me. He won’t even answer my texts and I see that fucker reading them! What’s his deal?” He huffs in exasperation, grumbling to himself, “He even bailed on movie night. He never bails on movie night. He loves his stupid horror movies too much. I mean, does he secretly hate me or something? Is that why he never tells me what pink means whenever I ask him about it?” Jimin looks up at Jin, aghast with sudden understanding, “Oh my god, he secretly hates me, doesn’t he?”
Jin can only stare at him with a cursory frown and raised brows at his presumptuous assumption, not at all fazed, before he proceeds to burst out laughing at the ridiculous notion. He’s setting the tray of dirty dishes down onto a nearby table when he doubled over, cackling with shrill laughter that squeaked into oblivion. His entire face was becoming ruddy as he slams his palm down onto the table repeatedly to convey all his profound hilarity he found in the situation.
“Um,” Jimin glances around at their surroundings when Jin’s broad laughter was garnering attention from the other occupants, “did I say something funny?”
“Hoo boy,” Jin wipes a falling tear from his dewy eyes, “Jungkook? You? Hate? That’s the best joke I’ve heard all day!”
“I’m not joking though,” Jimin fervently argues, “It makes sense. How else would you explain his odd behaviour?”
Jin sighs sadly in a woe-is-me manner as he takes a seat and leans forward on his knees, shrugging, “If he won’t tell you, then make him.”
“And?” Jimin frowns, “How am I going to do that?”
“I don’t know, back him up into a corner or something and demand answers!” Jimin scrunches up his brows in confusion at the method. However, Jin’s face heats up and he puffs out his chest, mouth opening in a certain manner that gave way to his incoming tirade, “Where’s your spunk, Jimin? Are you just going to sit here and accept this kind of treatment from his querulous problem-solving tactics and emotional irresponsibility he’s causing you? No - no, you’re not going to sit here and accept this. No, you’re going to confront him and get to the bottom of this because if he thinks that avoidance is the answer to this situation then I suggest him to reevaluate his life choices right here and now. He needs to get his head out of his own ass and take responsibility! Am I right?”
As Jimin listened thoroughly to his feverish tangent, he nodded with more certainty each time as every logical word sinks deep into his psyche with sheer mutual understanding, growing more self-assured and convinced that Jin is right. Jimin didn’t have to take this sudden manifestation of aloof responses from his distant attitude lately - no, Jimin deserves way better than such coldness.
He is going to back Jungkook up into a corner and demand answers he so rightly deserves. Jimin likes to think of himself as a no-nonsense and hard-nosed man who doesn’t like to beat around the bush and frankly, Jungkook’s unexpected show of emotional constipation is wasting his precious time.
“You’re right!” Jimin slams a fist against the table, making the condiments jump from the sprightly impact, “You’re absolutely correct! I am not going to sit here and accept this circumventing ploy of his.”
“Exactly!” Jin exclaims, “That’s the spirit! Now stop sulking and go do something!”
With a determined huff, Jimin sits up from his seat and grabs his bag, throwing it over his shoulder, “Thanks, Jin. I don’t know where I’d be without you.”
Jimin hears Jin mutter something along the lines of “same here” before Jimin marches out of the tinkling cafe, all the while calculating a scrupulous plan in his head. Operation Figure Out What The Fuck Pink Means becomes Operation Make Jungkook Confess Via Coercion.
(Then again, Jimin has always had a soft spot for the boy, so he isn’t sure about the coercion part. Maybe a few fake tears would work instead. He’ll see.)
Jungkook squeezes a fist as he watches with prominent heart eyes at the video playing on his phone, a self-recorded clip of him and Jimin imitating Hoseok. He watches with anticipation at the part where Jimin erupts into high-pitched laughter and his dazzling eyes curve into the shape of crescents, an incredibly endearing sight that makes Jungkook literally melt in his seat.
“Look, look, dude look, “ Jungkook eagerly shows the video to Namjoon who was sitting beside him, munching on a piece of french fry with a displeased face as he listens to Jungkook fawn over his crush, “look! His eyesmile, oh my god - he’s so freaking beautiful and cute, what the fuck. His laughter can bring, fucking I don’t know, world peace! Fucking - look at his eye smile! His! Eyesmile!!!” He combusts and nearly screams before he throws himself onto the table and muffles a hybrid of something between a squeal and an earsplitting screech into the crook of his elbow, kicking his feet at the air when he was unable to contain all the warm and fuzzy feelings bursting in his chest.
“Jungkook, you’ve been watching that video and blushing for the past half an hour,” Namjoon grumbles as he grabs another french fry, already finished with his burger while Jungkook barely touched his own meal. “Are you done yet? Can you eat so we can go? We made plans to go to the mall didn’t we? To buy a new shower head. You gotta help me look for the right one.”
Jungkook looks up and settles his chin on his arm, sighing wistfully as he slightly pouts. He wishes he could stop, but to be truthful, after going on about his days avoiding Jimin, he’s been experiencing something akin to withdrawal. Was it something absolutely ridiculous? Of course, but Jimin being a touchy-feely and affectionate koala, Jungkook has been accustomed to his clingy tendencies and his frequent affinity for (bro) hugs since day one of their budding friendship.
The fact that they’ve been separated for so long (only a week, really) with an entire berth of distance settled between them, Jungkook realizes that he actually… misses him. And his smile. And his laugh and hugs and pet names and hair ruffles and the cuddling and the awkward flirting(?) and cheeky teasing and the sparkling warmth of his presence and his overall fluffiness that made Jungkook want to just snuggle up to him and -
“Dude,” Namjoon nudges Jungkook with a foot, “gross. Your lovesickness is showing.”
Jungkook stares at him blankly, “Did you just play footsie with me?”
He receives a fry dipped in ketchup to the face and Jungkook whines and wrinkles his nose. Namjoon scowls at him, “Shut up, brat, or I’ll kick you hard in the shin. Just eat your damn food already so we can go.”
“Okay, okay,” Jungkook mumbles as he sadly picks up his cold, soggy burger and bites into it, munching in a brooding manner. The cafeteria bustles with a certain energy underneath the plexiglass ceiling, the clear blue skies -- dimmed from the hued sunglasses over his eyes -- hover above the building with the droning of idle chatter asserting itself as the only music to his ears. His lips are downturned as he eats absentmindedly, missing the way Namjoon sighs at his sulking disposition.
“Kook, have you ever thought -- I don’t know, telling him how you feel? Instead of assuming your feelings are unrequited?” He speaks up after a period of heavy silence and heart-aching sighs from the younger. The mood inevitably changes between them, the trademark look of solemnity cast across Namjoon’s face which was a telltale sign of his oncoming philosophical advice in order to motivate the younger un back to life.
But of course, the thought of confessing to his friend goes past his head and Jungkook snorts in disbelief, “And jeopardize our friendship? No way.”
Namjoon shoots him a disgusted look before he shakes his head, “Look, life is too short to waste your time moping about the possibility of getting rejected, and the possibility of you getting rejected is, like. 50% right now, which is half-half, which also means that maybe, Jimin might feel the same way. I mean, come on. Literally everyone knows you're whipped for him. Even Professor Lee knows and he’s a myopic sexagenarian with no regard to advanced technology.”
Jungkook almost chokes on a piece of lettuce as Namjoon flippantly continues, “What I’m saying is that -- muster up the courage to be honest to him instead of settling on evading him and your feelings. I mean, would you rather jeopardize your friendship by being an uncooperative and inconsiderate asshole like you are right now? I think Jimin deserves an explanation to your entire -- “ He motions at Jungkook as a whole, “internal fiasco.”
And with a contemplative look, Namjoon places his intertwined hands on the table and leans forward, “Sometimes the heart sees what is invisible to the eye. Love is like a flower, you know? You gotta let it grow.”
Jungkook blinks once, twice, thrice. Then he swallows the piece of patty in his mouth and says, “I rather shovel shit in hell while I suck the devil’s dick.”
Namjoon stares at him blankly with a deadpan look while Jungkook stifles a laugh as he stuffs his mouth with fries. Jungkook has always been a bit of a hesitant coward when it came down to all the mushy feelings he experienced prancing teasingly around his heart. He just didn’t know how to handle them and thus, logicality is replaced with stupidity and well, shit happens because of his lack of rationale.
Namjoon looks just about done with him when his eyes flitter to something behind him and he quirks a brow, before his gaze returns back upon Jungkook who was fumbling with his phone trying to replay the video again, “Well, if you rather shovel shit in hell, you better do it now and suck Satan's spicy dick ‘cause the person you’ve been avoiding for the past week just showed up and he does not look happy.”
Jungkook jumps out of his own skin and he whirls around, eyes widening because there he unfortunately is: Park Jimin, in all his small and perpetual angry glory and when he’s angry, it did not bode well for anyone. Jungkook frankly likes to be all intact with his body and he’s seen what Jimin can do with his tiny but deadly fists and-- oh God, he’s marching towards them. Jungkook hopes that the crowd of students inundating the space between them brings enough time for Jungkook to hide as he nearly spits out the fries in his mouth and dives beneath the table, taking his backpack with him.
“Jungkook, what are you doing?” Namjoon asks exasperatedly as peeks underneath the table to see Jungkook clinging to his jeans.
Jungkook harshly shushes him as he brings a finger to his mouth, “Pretend I’m not here!”
“He literally saw you --”
“So? Just say that I went to the mall!
“I’m not a fucking li -- ah, hello Jimin,” Namjoon’s caustic tone immediately changes to that of a brighter, calmer one, and Jungkook can imagine the big smile he has plastered across his egg-shaped face. Jungkook can see Jimin’s legs up close across from him and he makes sure that he himself stays hidden from his view.
“Hi, Namjoon,” Jimin’s voice is sickly sweet and mellifluous, and for Jungkook to say that he missed it would be an understatement, but there was something else behind the honeyed quality to his voice that sent foreboding chills down Jungkook’s spine. Jungkook’s stealthy technique seems to have worked, though, because Jimin asks him, “Have you seen Jungkook? You know, I thought I saw him just then right in this exact spot. It’s weird.”
“He, uh. He had to go to the mall.” Namjoon laughs nervously, “To buy a new shower head ‘cause you know me. I’m clumsy.”
“Oh? Really?” Jungkook didn’t expect Jimin to pull the chair back and take a seat, scooting closer to the table before he aggressively crosses his legs and the cuff of his foot almost nails Jungkook right in the nose. “And he didn’t even bother to throw away his trash! He forgot his phone too.”
Jungkook freezes. He feels his soul leave his body, ascending towards the astral plane and maybe beyond that into a black hole because he immediately wants some otherworldly extraterrestrial life form to take him right fucking now. Jungkook can’t believe he forgot to take his phone with him -- but that’s not all, he’s got the clip of them together fullscreen paused at the exact part where Jimin erupts into laughter and his phone screen didn’t immediately blackout until after ten minutes. This is a neophyte mistake of all things stealthy and Jungkook is thrumming with nervous energy as he claws at Namjoon’s leg to do something.
“Uh -- “ Namjoon audibly hesitates and fuck, Jungkook hears the video playing and the way Jimin’s laugh trills in full volume from his phone. And it seems as though Namjoon deliberately switches sides as he continues on in a defeated tone, “He’s been watching that for over half an hour gushing over you. Please make him stop.”
Jungkook balks and curses in utmost embarrassment before he punches Namjoon in the leg, to which the older yelps out in pain and jerks away from Jungkook’s reach. Panicking, Jungkook turns around and was just about to book it right out of there when Jimin looks underneath the table, his face appearing before him that stops Jungkook in his tracks and he stops in complete dread. The initial indignance that was scattered across his face had waned into something more mellow and levelheaded, Jimin’s sharp eyes piercing right into Jungkook’s jittery own that kindled lovesick heart palpitations.
“Hi, Jungkookie,” Jimin says, and his lips curve into a sugar-coated smile, “let’s talk.”
“Um. What are you doing?”
Jungkook is pressed up against the back of the Science and Technology building in broad daylight. The sun is glaringly bright and sends a bead of sweat to trickle down the side of his head, and it doesn’t help the clamminess of his hands when Jimin is standing way too close to him while leaning forward with his arms crossed, a determined expression set across his tightly pursed lips.
Jungkook nervously looks side to side in fear of any spectators, but the back of the building was a rather quiet spot that was rarely visited by other students since it was class time for most. His heart skips a beat just slightly from being aware of their close proximity, although he’s not sure if it was just from fear.
Jimin blinks, “I’m backing you up into a corner.”
Jungkook stares at him questioningly, “Huh?”
He doesn’t get a chance to ask because he feels his heart leap towards his throat as Jimin leans closer to him, causing Jungkook to lean backwards in response and compressing his face together. His eyes are wide and he doesn’t dare to blink with how close Jimin’s face is near him, and suddenly, the dimmed world before him becomes more vivid and bright once he realizes that Jimin has taken his sunglasses off, and Jungkook blanches.
“Look, Jungkookie. Did I do something wrong? Is this --” He motions at Jungkook’s eyes, “why you keeping avoiding me and you won't answer my texts?” Jimin narrows his eyes and frowns, stepping back to give Jungkook his personal space to breathe and regulate his heartbeat. “Does pink mean something bad? Do you hate me? If you do, that’s okay -- just, I don’t know. At least give me an explanation? Frankly, I was going to somehow force the answers out of your emotionally constipated ass, but now, I’m just tired.” He sighs, conspicuously weary, and Jungkook suddenly feels guilt weave its way into his chest.
“What -- no! I don’t hate you-- I could never hate you,” Jungkook immediately exclaims and furiously waves his hands around. But how is he supposed to go on about the matter without wanting to dig a hole up and bury himself in it trying to talk about all these gooey feelings that reduced him into something akin to a prepubescent school kid? And what if Jimin didn’t feel the same way? There goes their friendship right there.
(But then again, Namjoon had a point -- it was better than being an asshole about it, which is something Jungkook somehow falls into being unintentionally.)
“Then what?” Jimin asks with audible frustration, his arms crossed and brows scrunched together in consternation.
Jungkook’s mouth flaps open and closed in an attempt to grasp at some form of coherency but to no avail. He feels his entire face and neck heat up as he keeps his eyes averted to the side. Here goes nothing. It's a good thing the corner store nearby sells ice cream because he'll need it for sure.
He laughs nervously, shrugging although it came off as jerky motions like muscle spasms, “Uh. Well. You know. It's -- it's actually? The opposite? Of hatred?” His smile feels stiff on his face as Jimin tilts his head in confusion, and despite Jungkook’s impending dire death, he still can’t stop himself from internally squealing from the little gesture. Stop being so fucking cute, what the fuck. I’m going to die. Jimin scrunches his nose a little and Jungkook just-- wants to swoop in there and kiss his goddamn stupid cute nose. Fuck.
“C’mon, do you gotta-- do I have to elaborate? It’s already so self-explanatory!” Jungkook complains miserably. He receives a deadpan look in return, one that screamed “done with your shit,” and Jungkook sighs, mentally preparing himself to throw himself into a fire pit later. “I actually-- maybe, okay not maybe, but I-- I like you? I might even-- uh, love you?”
Jungkook is pretty sure he’s blushing the colour of cherry popsicles as Jimin’s eyes go wide, and his vocabulary downgrades into the embodiment of his gushy feelings, not that he had an extensive vocabulary in the first place, “I really really like you, okay? Like, a lot. It’s illegal to be that fucking cute and beautiful and your legs-- wait, shit, I mean-- well, yeah, legs. But I mean, you’re super smart and you know some wild shit about wombats and whenever you get all nerdy about chemistry, I feel my soul ascend into some kind of astral dimension because your eyes sparkle and you’ve got this huge ass smile on your face and-- speaking of your ass-- oh, wait. Fuck, no, not your ass. I mean, you’ve got a really a nice ass but I don’t want to talk about that in broad daylight. Oh god that sounds terrible, I didn’t mean it in that way-- fuck, uh, yeah. I’m gonna stop now.” He was breezing by his confession in ragged breaths and rushed sentences and frankly, he wants to bury himself in a hole. Jungkook reiterates a pep talk to himself, reminding himself of Namjoon’s words, but honestly at this point, he just kind of wants to cry.
He’s not sure if Jimin’s malfunctioning because he doesn’t respond at all, not even when Jungkook’s waving a hand in front of his face. “Um. Earth to Jimin?” That seems to wake Jimin up from his deep reverie.
“So,” Jimin’s eye twitch and his mouth moves quite monotonously, “the colour pink?”
Jungkook laughs apprehensively, shifting around in discomfort, “Means love-- ow!”
He winces and jumps away when Jimin kicks him square in the shin, leaving Jungkook to hop around clumsily in utter pain as he holds up his leg, exhaling sharp breaths as it burns. He makes sure to leave enough space between them to ensure his own safety before he can lose a limb or something, and nearly whines, “Dude, what was that for? I spill my heart and soul to you and all you can do is kick me?”
“That’s what you get for being stupid,” Jimin adamantly huffs, making a move to go in for another hit before he seems to catch himself from doing so. “All brawn and no fucking brains-- that’s what you are. Seriously, you’ve been avoiding and ignoring me because of that? What the fuck, Jungkook.”
“It was a matter of life or death and I swear you were gonna make me die from how much you made my heart go crazy, okay? I was trying to, like, recover. You’re not good for my heart, Park,” Jungkook mumbles the last part as he slightly pouts, rubbing his shin to ease away the pain. And when he looks up again, there’s a redness to Jimin’s cheeks that seems to be more out of surprise and embarrassment than anger. He’s blushing and it was the cutest fucking thing ever. Jungkook is going to die.
“Well-- well, it was about time, you jerk,” He stammers slightly from being caught off guard as he uses a hand-- sweater paw-- to brush a stray hair out from his face, “I’ve been dropping hints for the past few months and you’re the most oblivious person to ever walk planet earth.”
This time, Jungkook is the one confused, “Huh?”
“Oh my god, Jungkook, you didn’t-- I was flirting with you. Like, for the past few months. Even a year, probably. Or maybe ever since we became friends. Seriously? You didn’t even notice?” Jimin rubs his face with a hand-- sweater paw, Jungkook gushes internally as he corrects himself again-- in disbelief.
Jimin. Flirting. With Jungkook. What.
Jimin. Feeling the same way. As Jungkook. What.
“Huh?” Is all Jungkook can say.
Jimin sighs, visibly done with all his shit, “Remember the time I draped myself all over you during that party?”
“Um. You were drunk. Plus, you’re always clingy-- don’t kill me,” Jungkook holds up his hands in surrender when Jimin sends him an affronted look.
“I’m only clingy towards you.” Jimin frowns, displeased, “Okay, well. How about that time I called you baby?”
Right. Jungkook would have become a blushing mess if he hadn’t slammed into a door.
“And the time I brought you takeout? And, like, when I called your eyes pretty and played with your hair and complimented on how nice and sinewy your legs are? I even fucking kissed your hand, Jungkook, when you got a booboo after someone stepped on it. And I have specifically mentioned multiple times that people who own a bunch of white shirts and ripped jeans as their daily outfits and play Overwatch for over ten hours are my type. You know who else owns a hoard of white t-shirts and ripped jeans and plays Overwatch for over ten hours? You. Literally only you.”
Jungkook frowns in deep contemplation because he would have remembered if Jimin was flirting with him. Jimin is just way too nice so he’d passed off those questionably touchy moments as Jimin just being… well, Jimin.
“Oh,” Jungkook expels a breath as he comes to a realization. “Oh.”
“Yeah, oh,” Jimin repeats in a grumble. “You’re so oblivious and I couldn’t tell if you felt the same way. I can’t believe I fell for a punk ass twerp who wears sunglasses all day, even in their sleep, who drinks milk as a beverage and can’t even tell that their friend is interested in him.”
“Hey,” Jungkook argues, “milk is damn good.”
“Missing my point, Jeon.”
Jungkook deflates and pursues his lips, “Right. Well, uh. On the bright side, I don’t need to wear my sunglasses around you anymore so you can be constantly reminded that I’m in love with you.” He watches as Jimin goes silent, face flushing and going red all to the tips of his ears, and at that precise moment, Jungkook wonders if his eyes are going to stay pink forever. Probably. His heart is pounding and fluttering all the way into the troposphere at this point and he’s pretty sure that he’s going to replay this situation over and over in his mind tonight. And the next night. And the next night. And the next--
And his train of thought comes to a complete stop when Jimin closes the gap between them with three, quick strides and leans forward on his tippy toes, slotting his warm and soft lips right against his-- quite clumsily and awkwardly, actually, when they nearly bump noses and Jimin’s front teeth grazes his bottom lip. It catches Jungkook by surprise but their mouths soon become accustomed to each other’s presences and their lips find their place to explore comfortably, in this range of chaste passion, as Jungkook holds Jimin from behind the neck. It’s slow and indulging but when Jungkook feels tongue, his eyes fly open and he pulls away, flustered with a burning face.
Jimin looks just the same, although he looks distraught and sheepish, and quickly steps back. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have--” He lets out an incoherent screech when Jungkook grabs him by his upper thighs and manhandles him right there and then, in broad daylight, and practically throws him over his shoulder, “Jungkook, what the fuck are you doing!”
“We need to relocate before we can do that, okay!” Jungkook laughs a bit hysterically in both elation and glee, unable to contain his eagerness, and laughs even more when Jimin uses his (small) fists to hit at his back, “We’re not exhibitionists, Jimin, so we gotta go somewhere private to use the slip of a tongue, you know what I mean? Ow, stop hitting me, jeez.”
“What about your eyes? Your sunglasses-- I dropped them when you picked me up out of the blue,” Jimin says with concern, but Jungkook laughs even harder and even cheers right in the open, attracting the stares from other students on campus. He’s so fucking happy that he wants to sing a cheesy love song to serenade Jimin, although he’s pretty sure he’ll only get hit again, although with more love.
“Who cares!” Jungkook grins as he twirls around, almost trips but catches himself, as Jimin yells in both misery and out of fun, “I’ll let the whole world know I’m in love with you.”
He hears Jimin’s tinkling, delighted laugh and Jungkook feels his heart soar, because in all honesty, how could he have ever been afraid of loving Park Jimin?