[bts: v/jimin] tonight, we'll defy the stars (hello my old heart) (1/3)
title: tonight, we'll defy the stars (hello my old heart)
fandom: bangtan boys (soulmates au)
pairing: taehyung/jimin
word count: 22,716
a/n: a bday fic for dim because they absolutely adore vmin. and sorry this took so long (over two months i cry) and this was never meant to be over 10k at all. also please listen to this while reading. (ao3 link)
tonight, we'll defy the stars (hello my old heart)
Park Jimin is sixteen years, three hundred and thirty-nine days, eleven hours, twenty-eight minutes, and five seconds old when his counter stops.
He’s sixteen years, two hundred and seventy-four days, three hours, fifty-four minutes, and thirty-one seconds old when he’s in the bathroom. The first set of black zeros are set into his skin when he’s washing his hands in the sink, eyes looking anywhere but the mirror in front of him. Jimin rolls up his sleeves and two very still numbers catch his eye. The water is still running as he runs his index finger over the zeros. He frowns as his fingers move past them to the last two digits, where he can feel the numbers changing every second. He’s never paid too much attention to his counter, unlike the his overenthusiastic classmates who could keep track of their counter daily, but last time he checked he was sure he had more time. He thinks back to all the pamphlets his parents have given him, their long lectures and talks, the discussions in school. Jimin’s heart begins to quicken and he can feel his blood pounding.
He makes it out of the bathroom in record time.
Back in class Jimin slips into his chair quietly as the teacher writes something on the board. He stares straight ahead at the scrawl of words and grips his pencil tightly. The blood is pounding even harder and his head is throbbing in rhythm to the numbers slowly ticking down on his wrist.
“Jimin,” a faint noise registers in one ear. “Jiminie, Park Jimin!” He finally turns when his hair is yanked to see Taehyung peering curiously at him. “You okay?”
Jimin thinks about the black numbers on his wrists and swallows, “Yeah.”
Taehyung peers at him curiously for a moment before shrugging his shoulders. “Well since you were spacing out do you want my notes then?”
“I’ll fail if I look at your notes,” he snorts.
His best friend only pouts at him, “Hey! My notes aren’t that bad. Besides, my doodles beat your drool-stained papers any day.”
Jimin only hits him in retaliation.
He goes back home that afternoon with Taehyung, his feet scraping against the sidewalk as he kicks the loose gravel and his eyes trained on the bland cement. Taehyung hangs off his shoulder, his mouth is spitting out words even faster than the seconds ticking away on his wrist and Jimin can’t bring himself to listen to Taehyung, not today.
“Jimin,” Taehyung cups his hands and shouts into his ear.
He pauses mid step and turns to his side. “What?” he asks, dumbly.
Taehyung crosses his arms and huffs, “Are you even paying attention to me, Park Jimin?” Taehyung narrows his eyes and bends forward, his face nearly touching Jimin’s.
Jimin instinctively leans backwards and shoves his best friend. “Why are you so weird?”
“Hey, don’t be like that I was just making sure aliens didn’t abduct you or something.” Taehyung puts an arm over Jimin’s shoulder again and Jimin can only hope that Taehyung doesn’t hear his blood pounding as he rests his head against his.
“I think the aliens gave you some weird injection when you were a kid,” he miffs.
Taehyung tilts his head to the side and looks at him for a minute. “I think you’re the weird one, Jimin-ah. You always were a snapback because you’re too lazy to brush your hair.”
He frowns as he takes off his hat and runs a hand over his hair, “Says you when you dyed your hair pink. Pink, Tae, neon pink. You dyed your hair pink.”
“The pink hair dye was really speaking to me,” Taehyung looks at Jimin like it was the most obvious reason in the world. He’s pushed forward and nearly lands into his mother’s new planted flowers. “Go get some rest okay?” Taehyung waves at him.
Jimin swallows, “Yeah.” The black numbers on his wrist have never burned so hotly before.
Nearly over a month has passed when the second set of numbers stop. Jimin is over at Taehyung’s house (he’s sixteen years, three hundred and thirty-eight days, three minutes, and fifty-eight seconds old and his counter isn’t slowing down one bit). The two of them are playing video games together instead of studying for upcoming exam. Jimin leans closer into the flashing screen and hoots when the text flashes across the screen.
“You’re so bad at this Taehyung-ah,” Jimin coos as he pats Taehyung’s face. He receives a kick to the stomach and Taehyung smiles at him cheekily. “You wound me, is this how you treat all your friends?”
Taehyung walks over and sits down on Jimin’s stomach and he lets out a gasp. “No, it’s just you. You’re special.”
Jimin snorts and prepares a retaliation but the other boy has picked up one of the fallen controllers. Jimin groans as he prepares himself to be Taehyung’s yoga mat for the next hour. He closes his eyes and lies there before something catches the corner of his eye.
His eyes are slowly drawn over and it would be comical, except for the steady uneasiness that’s been lying in his stomach for forty-one days. His eyes lock with the four motionless digits. The dread comes in and it’s building up. Jimin feels queasy and the world is spinning around him. The television screen is too bright and the speakers are too loud, he thinks as he turns his head over. He can feel his wrist beating steadily, with each beat another second is gone. His heart is pounding, his wrist is on fire, the blood is leaving his head, he can’t swallow and he wants to throw up, and the seconds are still counting down. His mind is racing and running and the counter it’s still-
“Ow,” Taehyung shrieks as he rubs the back of his head.
Jimin snaps his head up and he’s trying to catch his breath and calm down except the seconds keep on ticking by. “Sorry,” his voice comes out hoarse. He looks around and when was he standing? His head hurts and he rubs his temples for a minute before walking to the front door.
“Why are you leaving already?” Taehyung calls out petulantly as he walks over.
“I uh,” Jimin’s hand is on the doorknob and it feels slippery in his grip, “my stomach doesn’t feel well.”
Taehyung leans forward and grasps Jimin’s head in his hands. He puts his forehead against his for a good full minute and Jimin’s can feel his heartbeat speeding up. “Your forehead is hot,” Taehyung leans back for a minute and frowns. He bends down to grip Jimin’s waist and rests his head against his stomach.
“Uh,” Jimin flinches and tries to move backwards.
“I was listening to the fluids in your stomach,” Taehyung makes a shushing motion with his hand. Jimin just hopes he doesn’t hear the erratic beating of his heart which dropped into his stomach roughly five minutes ago. He stands up after another minute and pats Jimin’s cheek. “Feel better Jiminie.”
Jimin only nods because something is still firmly lodged in his throat. When he’s at the end of the street he takes a left instead of a right and runs.
“Where were you?” Taehyung asks the next day, while chewing on a pencil thoughtfully. The two of them are in the library and Jimin has a book open in front of him and a notebook on the side. He freezes and something, luckily not his heart this time, drops in his stomach again. “Well where were you?”
Taehyung is looking at him expectantly and Jimin squirms in his seat. “What do you mean?” he goes for instead.
“I went to your house and brought some rice cakes my mom made for you and you weren’t there,” Taehyung whines as he reaches into his backpack to throw a container of rice cakes at him.
“Ow,” Jimin rubs at his head and that ever-present sinking feeling in his stomach comes back again. “Sorry,” he says, eyes looking down. Last night he spent the entire time dancing until his blood was roaring in his ears and he couldn’t move anymore, just to get that feeling away.
“Don’t be sorry,” Taehyung scoffs as he takes the container and opens it, “just eat my mom’s rice cakes otherwise she’ll be upset.” Jimin nearly chokes as his mouth finds itself with four new acquaintances.
When he finally manages to swallow it all down he sends Taehyung the dirtiest possible glare in the world. Taehyung, of course, only kicks him under the table and force feeds him more rice cakes. The two of them continue on, oblivious to the judgemental looks of their classmates. He smiles for the first time since yesterday.
An hour later and the two of them are still confined to the library. Jimin taps his pencil against his notebook restlessly while Taehyung sticks out his tongue as he carefully outlines his doodles in sharpies. Jimin groans as he puts his head down to rest against the table.
His eyes snap open and he bolts up when he can feel part of him ablaze. His gaze is automatically attracted to his wrist, and when he puts his other hand against it he hisses because it stings. Taehyung’s eyes flit over to him momentarily and Jimin smiles painfully at his friend. His wrist is on fire and the fire is spreading, coursing through his veins. He can feel the fire traveling to his heart, which is thumping painfully and threatening to jump out of his chest at any moment and for all the wrong reasons. The fire is spreading quickly and the black numbers are turning white. Jimin clutches his wrist and grits his teeth as it shakes. He can’t do this he can’t and not now, not when he’s surrounded by all his classmates.
Jimin stands up, nearly knocking his chair over. “I need to go,” he barely manages to choke out before he’s up and out. His legs feel wobbly but he runs out of the library anyway before he can hear Taehyung yelling for him.
He’s outside now, at least a couple of blocks away from the high school. Jimin clutches his head and slumps down against the wall. He gasps for breath, needing the oxygen to fill his lungs. His chest is on fire and he can’t breathe (he’s sixteen years, three hundred and thirty-nine days, nine hours, twenty-eight minutes, and five seconds old and his counter has stopped).
Jimin pounds his fists against the gravel as he leans back, still panting for breath. The pain in his chest still hasn’t subsided and the fire is still travelling throughout his body. He glances at his wrist, the zeros glowing a painful bright white. He’s sixteen years, three hundred and thirty-nine days, nine hours, twenty-eight minutes, and twenty seconds old and his counter has stopped.
The pain is still there and his entire body is on fire. Sweat is pouring dripping down his face and he looks up at the sky, a pretty sort of blue that everyone can’t help but marvel at. He lets out a scream. He’s sixteen years old, three hundred and thirty-nine days, nine hours, thirty-one minutes, seventeen-
“Park Jimin what the hell?” Taehyung barely manages to pant out before he collapses next to him. “I looked all over for you.” He grabs his shoulders and shakes him.
Jimin lets out a small hiccup. “Tae, I,” his voice is strangely shaky and his lip is quivering and for some reason his eyes are prickling. He takes another deep breath, “My counter it,” his body is no longer on fire but he can’t manage to take a proper breath. He closes his eyes and blinks away the tears. He opens his mouth and tries to continue but all the oxygen is gone.
Taehyung lets out a hollow laugh. “You’re an idiot, you know that.” his hand brushes his cheek and he holds Jimin’s face in his own. Taehyung yanks him closer to put their foreheads against one another. Jimin can feel his breath against his own and the striking contrast in temperature helps him breathe a little.
He hiccups, “My parents, they’re-” The words seize up in his chest again. “What are people going to think?” Jimin eyes look anywhere but at Taehyung’s. They’re too intense, too dark, too focused. He hasn’t ever seen him with a gaze like that. He’s sixteen years old, three hundred and thirty-nine days, nine hours forty-three minutes, fifty-
“Shut the fuck up,” Taehyung says and his lip quivers too. Jimin finds himself embraced into a hug and tears are coming now his face. He can’t stop crying and he can’t stop shaking and the panic bubbles up from his stomach into a hiccup. “You’re an idiot.”
“You already said that,” Jimin laughs and more tears are coming down. He buries his face into Taehyung’s shoulder and clutches onto him.
Park Jimin is sixteen years old, three hundred and thirty-nine days, ten hours, two minutes, and twenty-one seconds old and his heart is racing for different two reasons.
It’s less than a month later (twenty-five days, six hours, nineteen minutes, and ten seconds) and Jimin has carefully stored away what he likes to call The Incident into a small dusty corner into his mind with plenty of bubble wrap and red stamp labelled: DON’T OPEN. This time he’s sitting in the park, an old thing that no one ever comes to anymore, with Taehyung and the two of them are swinging back and forth on the faded yellow seats.
Taehyung is staring into the depths of his soda as if it holds another universe before asking, “What do you want for your birthday?”
“What,” Jimin states as he continues to draw a picture in the dirt with his foot.
“Your. Birthday.” Taehyung is no longer looking at the soda can and why hasn’t Jimin ever noticed how nice his eyes were.
“I got that the first time,” He mumbles and ducks down. “Besides isn’t that ruining the whole point?”
Taehyung just rolls his eyes as he leans over to punch Jimin. “I’m being serious here.” He begins to pout and Jimin wants to know when his best friend got so cute.
“I don’t know,” Jimin says and he starts swinging back and forth again because he thinks if he looks at Taehyung for a second longer his face might turn red.
“You’re supposed to be helping me,” Taehyung grumbles and he reaches over to punch Jimin again. Except, this time his arms end up flailing wildly, the soda can smacking Jimin in the face. Jimin briefly wonders when he got so enraptured by chicken-like movements. “Sorry,” Taehyung offers with a cheeky smile.
Jimin shakes his head as he leaps off his swing to run over and tackle Taehyung to the ground. Taehyung shrieks as he falls backwards with Jimin landing on top of him. The two of them are involved in a full-out scuffle and his parents are going to yell at him for the mud stains but Jimin doesn’t care. Taehyung’s laughter fills his ears and Jimin’s heart feels lighter than it has in days.
He comes into class the next day and it’s not even five minutes later when he’s tackled from behind. “Hey,” Taehyung whispers as his arms snake up to circle Jimin, “happy birthday.”
Jimin is sixteen years, three hundred and sixty-four days, sixteen hours, twenty-one minutes, and thirty-one seconds and he can feel a blush slowly creeping up the back of his face and he’s glad that Taehyung is too busy burying his nose into his neck. “Where’s my birthday present?” He asks as he takes puts his hands over Taehyung’s.
“You’ll get it later,” Taehyung miffs and Jimin can hear the pout in his voice. The two of them stand like that for a minute, Jimin leaning back into Taehyung’s hold. He breathes in and he doesn’t understand why his heart is dancing wildly in his chest, not when his countdown has ended, not when he hasn’t met his soulmate yet. Taehyung is still burying his face into Jimin’s neck when he bites down.
“What the hell?” Jimin jumps up and out of Taehyung’s grasp a beat later. He spins around to see Taehyung laughing and rubs his neck.
“You taste weird.” Taehyung deadpans. Jimin is using all his willpower to not break out in scarlet and his heart is doing that strange thing where it skips a few beats, or maybe ten. “Besides it’s for good luck. Don’t you know?”
“Good luck,” Jimin repeats after him. And before he can think of something else to say, because his mind stops whenever Kim Taehyung is anywhere within five feet of him, class starts.
They’re walking back home and Jimin’s arm is draped around Taehyung’s (“because it’s cold”) and he’s listening to the new Big Bang song. Taehyung is singing along loudly, and Jimin can’t help the grin that’s slowly spreading along his face as he joins. They’re belting out lyrics, running down the street with arms thrown out. By the time they reach Jimin’s house he’s breathless and his forehead is damp with sweat and he can’t stop smiling.
“Open it,” Taehyung shoves a pink box too neatly wrapped at him.
“Did your mom wrap it for you?” Jimin asks as he takes the box in his arms. He’s sitting down on the carpet (seventeen years, five minutes, and eighteen seconds old) and he snorts as he sees the ballerinas on the package.
Taehyung gives him a kick and rolls over, resting his face on his hands. “Don’t be a hater.” Jimin tickles his chin and soon Taehyung is a complete mess on the floor. He’s shaking and rolling around, feet slamming against the carpet and his voice is loud. “Stop it,” Taehyung whines a second later when he’s out of breath. He sits up and shoves the box at Jimin. “You have to open it,” he whines.
“Fine,” he replies and begins to scratch at the tape with his nail. He struggles for a minute before finally peeling the piece of tape off.
“Urgh, you’re too slow Jiminie.” Taehyung snatches the box away from him and begins ripping at the pink paper. Jimin leans back against the couch as he watches Taehyung furrow his eyebrows and continues to tear at the paper. “There,” he says a beat later and the two of them are surrounded by the remnants of the wrapping paper.
Jimin takes the box and peers inside. “You didn’t,” he gives Taehyung a look as his breath catches in his throat. Taehyung grins cheekily and his cheeks match his outrageously pink hair. He takes out the snapback and reaches into the box again. There’s a Taeyang album lying in there as well.
“So you like it right?” Jimin looks over at Taehyung and he’s biting his nail.
“Yeah,” he replies breathless.
“Good, that means we can get cake.” Taehyung stuffs the new snapback on Jimin’s head before leaping up into the kitchen, hooting loudly.
He opens the refrigerator door to pull out the cake. When Taehyung begins opening drawers to find plates and forks and Jimin decides that he should probably get the knife. The two of them sit down at the table, with Taehyung insisting that he needs to put the candles in (“you can’t do it right,” he explains while concentrating on setting the candle into the cake).
“I’m done,” Taehyung beams at Jimin as he looks up from the cake. There’s a bit blue frosting smeared on his nose and in the ends of his hair but Jimin doesn’t tell him that.
Jimin begins to light the candles and he’s nearly finished when Taehyung sprints out of the room. “Taehyung the wax is going to drip onto the cake,” he calls.
“You can’t forget these,” Taehyung comes in with an orange birthday hat complete with glitter and lions. He walks over to Jimin and begins snapping the strap.
“Where those left over from your sister’s birthday?” He asks when he actually meant to say why do you look so cute this isn’t fair.
His friend rolls his eyes as he walks over to fit the cap on Jimin’s head. “Shut up,” Taehyung replies easily and snaps the strap for extra measure. “You can’t not have a birthday without the hats.”
“Did you really have to do that?” Jimin retorts as he rubs at his chin, “It hurts.”
“Don’t be a baby,” Taehyung replies and sticks out his tongue. He runs to close the blinds, even though isn’t anywhere near dark enough, before sitting directly across from Jimin.
Taehyung is belting happy birthday loud enough to that the entire street can hear. He’s grinning and it’s infectious and Jimin finds himself smiling so hard that it hurts (even though his counter has stopped, even though he hasn’t found his soulmate yet). The song ends and Jimin leans across the table. From here he can stare into Taehyung’s eyes, illuminated by the candlelight and the sunlight streaming in from the cracks of the blinds. Something clicks in his head. He takes a deep breath and blows and wishes (harder than he ever has before).
“What did you wish for?” Taehyung asks after they’ve finished half the cake, even with Jimin’s complaints.
“If I tell you it won’t come true,” Jimin responds easily before letting out a loud burp. Taehyung frowns as he punches him.
Park Jimin is seventeen years, two hours, forty-three minutes, and twelve seconds old and he’s falling hopelessly.
Winter has come and the first snow has already fallen. Break has already come so Jimin and Taehyung are sitting outside on the curb. Taehyung watches the snow drift and swirl while Jimin rests his head against Taehyung’s shoulder. His cheeks are pink from the cold and most definitely not because his heart is racing. There’s an awful sort of pitter patter when Jimin looks up to see snowflakes resting on Taehyung’s nose. He gets so lost that he doesn’t notice when Taehyung stands up abruptly, carefully brushing the snow off his pants.
He spits out a mouthful of snow, “A little warning next time.” Jimin gathers a bit of snow in his hands, it’s soft and not too wet so he makes a snowball.
“Don’t be such a baby,” Taehyung shakes his head as he walks ahead, carefully stepping in the snow. He turns around to see Jimin carefully packing the snow. “Oh no you don’t,” Taehyung says as he slows down, mid-step.
Jimin only grins as he throws the snowball, “Who’s the baby now?” Taehyung shrieks as he begins to run. Jimin chases him, scooping up snow in his hand as he laughs. He’s throws another snowball and this one hits Taehyung in the face.
“It’s a war,” Taehyung says a moment later after he’s wiped the snow off. He’s grinning wickedly and Jimin starts grinning as well.
The two of them are chasing each other down the street and Jimin’s heart feels like it’s flying. Taehyung is ruthlessly pelting snowballs, almost all of them missing. Jimin’s hands are nearly numb from the cold and he can’t feel his toes but he still runs anyway. His coat is soaking wet when Taehyung tackles him to the ground and stuffs a fistful of snow down the back of his shirt. Jimin screams out loudly with Taehyung smiling above him.
“My coat is all wet,” Jimin says when they’ve arrived back at Taehyung’s house. He frowns when he notices all the water dripping down his jacket before hanging it up. “My shirt is wet too,” Jimin lifts his shirt up uncomfortably, the thick cotton sticking to his skin. “Look,” he thrusts the bottom of his shirt into Taehyung’s face.
“Well, what do you want me to do about it?” Taehyung rolls his eyes as he hangs up his jacket as well. He flings his boots off, water splashing everywhere.
“My socks are wet too,” Jimin pouts as he holds up his socks as evidence.
“Are you like five?” Taehyung deadpans as he fixes Jimin with a look. “And you’re too old for that,” he pats Jimin’s cheeks with cold hands and Jimin scrunches up his nose.
“But it’s so uncomfortable,” Jimin follows Taehyung up the steps to his room. “They’re all sticking to me and I’m wet and if I get sick during break it’s all your fault, Kim Taehyung.”
Taehyung shoves Jimin to the floor, “Stop being such a kid, Park Jimin,” he imitates. Taehyung sits down on Jimin’s stomach and Jimin is being pressed into the floor. He makes a sort of choking noise.
“How much have you been eating?” He asks while panting. The blood circulation to his head is slowly being cut off and Jimin this is most definitely from his wet shirt, not because he can see Taehyung smiling at him.
“I was going to lend you clothes,” Taehyung pouts at him and Jimin blames the fact that Taehyung is sitting on him for the lack of breath, “but then you were mean to me. Say you’re sorry.”
“Are you kidding me?” Jimin raises and eyebrow while wondering if he can push Taehyung off him or not.
“Please?” Taehyung asks as he begins to poke at Jimin’s cheek. “You can do it, for me?” He begins to pat his eyelashes and Jimin thinks that Taehyung looks ridiculous.
“You look ridiculous,” He scowls and tries to avoid Taehyung’s index finger. Taehyung is still batting his eyelashes and smiling and Jimin thinks it’s the lack of better judgement that has him mumbling out a “sorry.”
“What was that?” Taehyung cups his ears as he giggles loudly.
“You’re annoying as hell,” Jimin says without hesitation and if he was cold a minute ago now he’s not because heat is rushing up and he hopes he isn’t turning red. Taehyung gets up and Jimin breathes, hoping the oxygen will help his heart rate come back down. Taehyung chucks a sweater and pair of jeans at him. “Hey,” Jimin frowns.
“Go change in the bathroom and come down later,” the other boy shoves him out of his room.
The two of them are both changed into a fresh pair of clothes (“you’re not wet now, so stop being a baby”) and Jimin’s heart has somehow learned how to do acrobatics. He’s tapping against the table absently and Taehyung is currently involved in tearing off the wrapping paper, not pink because Jimin isn’t weird. Jimin can feel his palms turning clammy and he subtly wipes his hands on Taehyung’s jeans.
“Did you actually get me all of this?” Taehyung turns back around after carefully inspecting his presents for a good solid ten minutes. His smile is bright but his eyes are brighter and Jimin thinks that maybe he should start looking for insurance companies.
He barely manages out a “Yes,” before his heart jumps in his throat and his voice cracks.
“Okay, it’s cake time,” Taehyung hoots excitedly and claps as he puts on his hat and holds his new, oversized plush lion underneath his arms. He comes over, precariously balancing utensils and candles on top of the cake. Taehyung lets them all drop with a loud thud. He places the lion to the side and begins putting the candles in.
Jimin takes the lion and begins playing with its mane. “Look it’s you, Tae,” He says several minutes later. Taehyung looks up briefly from his cake, there are eleven candles so far only eight more left, and raises an eyebrow. “You should take a picture with it.”
“Yeah,” Taehyung replies distractedly while placing another candle and Jimin frowns.
When he’s finally done Taehyung screams happy birthday, bouncing up and down so quickly Jimin is actually worried he’ll fall out of his seat. This time the glow of the candles do illuminate his face and Jimin hates the way his heart sort of flops around like a fish. Taehyung is smiling and Jimin’s heart does more flopping. He takes and exaggerated breath to blow out the candles and when the smoke has cleared Taehyung smiling and it’s so bright it hurts. Jimin is (seventeen years, seventy-eight days, four hours, thirty-five minutes, and eight seconds old), grinning and heart clenching.
Later Jimin smears frosting all over Taehyung’s face and the two of them are running around, tripping over their own feet and bumping into the doors, and Jimin is laughing just as hard as Taehyung.
One hundred and seventy-six days, twenty-one hours, ten minutes, and fifty-eight seconds later Jimin’s parents confront him. It’s at dinner and Jimin pauses in mid-bite, his blood freezing over and looking into his parents’ black eyes. Jimin glances down to his wrist and slowly realizes with horror that he’s no longer wearing the constricting wristband on his left hand. He swallows and puts down his chopsticks and he’s no longer hungry.
“Jimin,” his mom begins unsurely, she smiles as she begins, her eyes strangely cold, “when did your counter stop, dear?” Hearing the word dear Jimin shivers and he’s never felt so cold before.
He choses not to answer, and instead looks down towards his lap. Jimin fiddles with his fingers, and the black numbers catch his eye and it all comes crashing back.
His dad isn’t nearly so kind. “Where’s your soulmate?” he snaps, metal chopsticks clicking harshly against the silence. Jimin slinks down into his chair. “Don’t make me repeat myself,” he hisses.
“I,” Jimin begins and his blood circulation is being cut off again. It’s not pleasant in the slightest and so completely different from when he’s within ten feet of Kim Taehyung. His mom smiles encouragingly, and all he can see are the points of her teeth. “I don’t have one,” he finishes lamely.
“How do you not have a soulmate?” His father slams his chopsticks down onto the table. Jimin flinches.
“Are you sure?” his mother asks and her smile flickers for a minute. She regains her composure and sits up straighter. “I’m sure it’s some nice, pretty girl in your class.” There’s a hint of desperation to her voice as she leans forward. And Jimin remembers when she last used that smile.
“No,” he says firmly. “I didn’t find my soulmate.” Blood is roaring in his ears and Jimin sits up ramrod straight in his seat. “I don’t have a soulmate.”
“You do,” his father insists. “You do.”
Jimin looks at his younger brother who’s sunken into his seat, looking everywhere but him. His mom is no longer using her smile and strength surges through Jimin. “I don’t have a soulmate.”
His mother begins to laugh and it’s nervous, titterring and border-line hysterical. “Jimin don’t be ridiculous. You have a soulmate. Even if you haven’t found yours, we’ll get you one.”
“Mom,” Jimin breathes in for a moment, unclenching his fists, “I don’t have a soulmate.”
“There are agencies you know,” his mother drops her voice into a whisper. “They can help you. They can get you a soulmate. They know how to forge the papers, you don’t have to go on like this.”
“Go on like what?” Jimin snaps.
“You don’t have to go on the path you’re continuing on,” his father cuts in. “You don’t have to be unhappy. Jimin, we want to help you.”
Jimin stands up. “No,” he says and looks his father straight in the eye. His mother isn’t looking at him and staring at the wall. “No,” he repeats. Jimin’s entire body is shaking and he’s never felt rage so deeply before. He walks out of the kitchen, each step resounding in the house, and slams the door behind him.
Outside, Jimin can’t breathe. There’s a monsoon due next week yet the atmosphere is suffocating. He’s taking deep breaths as he’s running. His feet pound of the pavement and he glances down to see he’s still wearing slippers and socks. Jimin feels the tears prickling in the back of his eyes and he wipes them. The rage which was filling him up back in the kitchen is no longer there and the despair and disgust in coming back in huge waves.
He stops running and he surveys the houses around him. Jimin gasps for breath as his heart rate skyrockets. There are cars all around him, people talking, and dogs jumping. He sees a couple holding hands, with matching gazes and nearly trips as he tries to make it to the nearest garbage can. Jimin stands up, supporting himself with one hand. His stomach is gurgling uncomfortably and his legs turn into jelly.
Kneeling down, Jimin begins to rock back and forth on his feet while shutting his eyes. He can feel hysterical laughter bubbling from his chest and the tears building up. His heart pounds wildly against his chest like a madman and is threatening to escape. In front of him there’s a couple holding hands, the two of them kissing. Jimin’s heart thumps pitifully at the sight of that. He leans back against the trash can, bringing his knees into his chest.
Still in his slippers Jimin feels ridiculous as he looks up at the sky. It’s blue, the nice kind that everyone can’t help but spend five minutes getting lost in. His heart is slowing down, yet it still hurts. He buries his face and hugs his knees even more tightly. Jimin can’t breathe, his heart is whimpering painfully. His lungs sting when he draws in a breath, but they hurt even more when he exhales. His chest feels empty and Jimin closes his eyes as he begins to rest against the trashcan.
(He doesn’t come home until the sun has nearly risen and the moon is still up in the sky. He’s seventeen years, two hundred fifty-four days, forty-one minutes, and thirteen seconds old and exhausted).
“Why are you all sunburnt?” Taehyung asks when Jimin comes over to his house four days later. Jimin opens his eyes hazily. He hasn’t gotten much sleep since when his parents confronted him, and even less so when his parents left on an impromptu vacation (“How fast can you book a flight out of the country?” his mother asks his dad the very next day).
“Hm?” Jimin asks as he rubs at his eyes. He lets out a long yawn as he stretches his back.
“Your face,” Taehyung repeats as he flops down next to him. “It’s all sunburnt.” He starts poking Jimin’s cheek, right where it’s all red and sore.
Jimin rolls over onto his stomach, “Stop it,” he moans as he digs his face into the carpet. “That hurts.”
“How’d you get sunburnt?” Taehyung asks again, rolling Jimin back onto his back. Jimin can’t find the strength to roll back onto his stomach so he covers his eyes with his arm instead. “Your face is all red,” and Jimin can feel Taehyung breathing on his arm.
“Uh-huh,” he replies. His eyelids are already extremely heavy and Jimin takes deep breaths as his body begins to relax.
Five minutes later a blanket is thrown on top of him and a pillow is placed underneath his head. “Fine,” Taehyung says fondly as he settles next to Jimin with a blanket and pillow as well. “I guess it’s nap time.”
Jimin wakes up later to find his best friend’s face attached to his stomach and his arms locked against his chest (he’s seventeen years, two hundred fifty-eight days, three hours, twenty-one minutes, and thirteen seconds old). He finds himself breathless as he strokes the ends of Taehyung’s obnoxiously bright hair.
His parents arrive the day right before school starts. They come in unannounced and Jimin nearly falls off the chair in the kitchen when they come back. His younger brother has a huge grin on salmon face and his skin is ten shades darker. His mom comes back with three new suitcases that Jimin doesn’t ever remember seeing. He can no longer find the deep wrinkles that previously creased her forehead, the ones that would always come whenever she smiled after a hard day of work.
When his father comes in he barges through the door, jaw square and his gaze set forth. His eyes are near a sheen of black ice that covers all the roads during the wintertime. Jimin notices that his forearms are tanner and he’s wearing a new shirt, as well as sunglasses that are hanging from his pocket. What stands out even more than all his family’s new appearances is the chill he gets when his father walks right past him. He walks straight past Jimin into the living room to set down two suitcases.
Jimin’s eyes follow his father’s movements. His mother goes to sit down on the couch, fanning herself. His brother drags in another suitcase, chattering loudly with his parents. The wheels of the suitcase grates on Jimin’s ears, he’s spent the past two months with only Taehyung’s company every other day. There’s a cold chill crawling into the house and the ice begins to spread to Jimin’s heart.
The entire afternoon Jimin sits motionless on his seat, except to move his eyes and turn his head to follow the movements of his family. Watching them walk in and out of the kitchen the ice begins to burn his heart. They start cooking dinner, and Jimin is still sitting there, watching them. He finally leaves for his room when they’ve only made food for three.
It’s fitting that Jimin’s family has come back on the day of the last monsoon.
Jimin’s sitting in the hard wooden chair, looking at his open textbook but not bothering to actually read it. He rolls up his sleeve to look at his wrist, something he hasn’t bothered to do in quite awhile. The black zeros stare mockingly at him before they blur together like the words on his textbook. He groans as he rests his head on the book, frustration welling up inside.
“Are you okay?” Taehyung asks five minutes later, when Jimin still hasn’t lifted his head back up. Jimin makes a sort of non-committal noise in the back of his throat. “Hey, Jimin-ah,” Taehyung says softly. The way his voice catches and the breath he exhales afterwards makes him look up.
“Yeah?” He asks and just when did those bags get under Taehyung’s eyes? There’s a prep book for the CSAT right underneath his forearm and a lump forms in Jimin’s throat.
He reaches out with his hand to put it on top of Jimin’s. Taehyung’s hands dry and cold over his, fingers knobby but not crooked and fat like his. “You alright?” He thinks there’s a nice sort of way Taehyung’s hands don’t fit perfectly over his, but they fit and it feels nice.
There’s a bitter laugh rising out of Jimin’s throat and the familiar feeling of inadequacy boiling in the pit of his stomach again. “At this point does it really matter?”
“Yes, yes it does.” Taehyung’s grips tighten and his knuckles are turning a sickly white. “Jimin, you can’t be like this.”
“Be like what?” Jimin retorts as he ducks away. The words come out sharper than he meant them too and regret is piling up as well. “I’m sorry it’s just that my counter,” and he’s choked back by a sudden sob. The tears are forming at the corners of his eyes and Jimin hastily his hand away from Taehyung’s so he can dab them. “Sorry,” his voice cracks.
Taehyung gets up and sits down in the seat right next to Jimin’s. He grabs his shoulders to turn him so the two of them are face to face. There’s a scary intensity to his eyes and Jimin just wants to go back to his room, where no one bothers him and no one acknowledges him. “Don’t be sorry Jimin.” Jimin’s heart shatters into a million pieces when he hears Taehyung say his name, and he’s never heard anyone say it that way.
Shaking, Jimin asks, “What am I going to do, Tae?” His hands won’t stop moving and his entire body is quivering as well. “I can’t take the CSAT, I can’t go to college, I can’t find a good job like my parents wanted me too.” He remembers the cold looks of his parents that summer night, and Jimin’s heart begins to stutter all over the place. “I can’t do anything. You need to register your counter when you apply for college, for work, for an apartment. You need it for almost everything. What am I supposed to do?”
“College is stupid,” Taehyung retorts and his grip is tightening on Jimin’s shoulders. “Do something that you want to do. As long as you’re doing something that you love with who you love that’s all that should matter.”
“But Taehyung,” Jimin says and the panic is rising up as well. He can’t stand this, he can’t stand the fact that he doesn’t have a soulmate, that his counter has stopped, and that he just doesn’t know.
“Shut up, Park Jimin,” he cuts him off. “You’re good at dancing right?”
“I guess,” Jimin fidgets uncomfortably to wipe the tears that are still flowing down. He thinks this entire situation is ridiculous as he lets a hiccup.
“Do you love it?” One, two, his heart skips a beat.
“Yes. What does this have to do with anything?”
“You’re so stupid, Jimin,” Taehyung says his name in that way again and Jimin thinks back to last year. He lets go of one shoulder to wipe the tears off his face. “We’ll rent an apartment together okay, you and I. We’ll both find jobs together. You can be a dancer and I’ll go work find an animal shelter. You can do something that you love. You don’t have to please everyone, don’t do this to yourself Jimin. What matters is you, okay.” Taehyung’s eyes are glassy and he smiles as he pokes Jimin in the center of of his chest.
“My parents though,” he croaks and now he’s crying even harder. “My entire family pretends that I don’t even exist. I saw my mom throwing out all the old family photos with me in them.” Jimin can’t stop the tears flowing down his face and his eyes are all puffy, his bangs covered in sweat. “Sorry,” he whispers later when he manages when the crying has subsided a bit.
“I told you already, don’t apologize. Jimin, please stop doing this to yourself. Stop beating yourself up for something that you can’t control. Please, Jimin.” Taehyung moves his hands up to brush Jimin’s bangs out of his eyes and Jimin can’t stop his crying now. He hiccups as Taehyung gently, but firmly holds his face and leans in so there’s only a good few inches between them. “Don’t burden yourself. I’m always here for you whether or not you want to talk or not. That’s what best friends are for, remember?”
He chokes back a sob as he manages to let out a laugh and a small smile, “Yeah.”
“You’re an idiot you know?” Taehyung says as he smiles at him. His eyes are glassy and Jimin can see the water at the edges of his eyes. His smile is so bright that Jimin forgets that he needs to breathe for a moment.
“You already told me,” he croaks as Taehyung envelopes him in a hug. Jimin buries his face into his shoulder and slowly moves his hands up to wrap around Taehyung’s back as well. He still can’t stop hiccuping and the tears are still streaming down.
He draws back (twenty-eight minutes and thirteen seconds) later and Taehyung’s arms slowly leave as well. “I think,” Jimin begins as he raises his head to look up directly into Taehyung’s eyes. His head is spinning and his heart is hammering loudly in his ears. “I think,” he takes a deep breath before continuing, “that I’m not okay.”
Taehyung pulls him back in for another hug. “You’re so stupid Park Jimin,” he laughs and Jimin’s shoulder is turning slightly damp. “It doesn’t have to be okay. Jimin-ah,” he continues a bit more softly this time, “you’re the biggest idiot I know.”
Jimin is seventeen years, three hundred and twenty-nine, fourteen hours, twenty-seven minutes, and forty-five seconds old and he wants to laugh because he’s in love and so utterly stupid.
The two of them are walking to school, and Jimin’s hands are clammy as he holds onto Taehyung. (He’s eighteen years, twenty-nine days, seven hours, forty-two minutes, and fifteen seconds years old). Taehyung’s hand is cold in his and Jimin’s hands are coated in a disgusting layer of cold sweat. His cheeks are flushed (from the cold and the wind) and he presses his body against his.
“Why are you so nervous?” Taehyung asks him as he lets go of Jimin’s hand to wrap an arm around his waist. “You aren’t even taking the test.” He smiles as he pokes at his cheeks.
“Kim Taehyung, you have to try hard on this test,” Jimin scoffs as he bumps against Taehyung lightly. “It’s important you know.”
“But I don’t want to take it,” Taehyung pouts as he nuzzles into Jimin’s shoulder. “If you aren’t going to college then why do I have to go.” His grips tightens on Jimin’s waist.
“It’s important,” Jimin wriggles free of Taehyung’s grasp and he looks into his eyes. “You have to take it for me, okay?”
“What are you,” Taehyung begins as he flicks Jimin’s forehead, “my parents?” He drags Jimin forward by his hand. “Don’t be so worried Jimin, it’s just a silly test.” Jimin plants his feet on the ground and Taehyung stops when he can no longer move. “Fine, I’ll take it seriously,” he mumbles under his breath after Jimin gives him a pointed look. “But don’t get any wrong ideas, I’m not going to college without you.”
“Yeah,” Jimin’s breath hitches a little bit. “Okay, I can do that.”
Jimin paces nervously outside the entrance of the school. He goes up on his tiptoes yet he still can’t see that familiar outlandish pink hair standing out from the crowd. The first students have begun to filter out, their eyes drooping and foreheads damp with sweat. There’s loud hooting and some parents are crying as they run up to hug their children. Jimin gets a bitter feeling in his stomach because maybe in another universe, a kinder one, that could have been him.
He pushes through several hysterical parents and kids in his class (kids who will go to college and find their soulmate and settle down and get their happily ever after) to the school gate and there’s a splash of faded pink against the bland grey of the school uniforms. Taehyung makes his way to Jimin and jumps into his arms and Jimin is suffocating against Taehyung’s chest.
“The test was terrible,” Taehyung whines as he pulls Jimin in tighter. “It was so long and so boring and I nearly fell asleep. Please don’t ever make me go through that again.”
“I thought you said you’d try for me,” Jimin looks up at Taehyung and he squirms against the taller boy’s hold on him. “You did try didn’t you?” he panics because this test is important. He doesn’t want Taehyung to stay someplace where he’s held back just because Jimin can’t do anything.
“Don’t worry,” Taehyung sighs exasperatedly as he pats Jimin’s cheek with one of his hands. “I did try okay, for you.” He punctuates the you with a jab at his cheeks.
“Good,” Jimin lets out a breath he was holding since the morning. His heart is hammering loudly in his ears when Taehyung still hasn’t let him go. “Are you going to let me go?” he complains against Taehyung’s chest. “This is really uncomfortable.”
“This is your punishment,” Taehyung replies as he uses one of his hands to comb his fingers through Jimin’s hair. “You made me take the test so now you have to suffer.”
“Okay,” Jimin replies to one of the buttons on Taehyung’s blazer. He’s smiling like an idiot and his heart is doing stupid little flips inside his ribcage and dancing along to an imaginary song. (He’s eighteen years, twenty-nine days, eighteen-hours, five minutes, and fourteen seconds years old).
The two of them are sitting in the bibimbap restaurant two blocks away from Taehyung’s house after his CSAT scores came back. Taehyung is rocking back and forth on his chair with a pair of chopsticks in his hand. His eyes light up when the waiter sets the bibimbap right in front of them and almost knocks out his two front teeth as he scrambles to pull out the metal chopsticks. Jimin’s heart is racing quickly and he chooses to stuff the bibimbap into his mouth instead.
“I took the test,” Taehyung says around a mouthful of food with a huge grin on his face. “Now you have to promise me we’ll move into the same apartment together.”
“Only if you’re going to college,” Jimin argues as he thumps Taehyung’s forehead with the end of his chopsticks. “You didn’t take the test for nothing.”
“But Jiminie,” his best friend pouts as he puts on his best voice. Taehyung frames his cheeks with his hands as he tilts his head and widens his eyes. “I don’t want to go to college and leave you,” Taehyung looks at him and his face is ridiculous with those wide puppy eyes and dumb-looking pout. Jimin can feel his cheeks burning and he reaches for the glass of water.
“Um,” he says very articulately as his hand grasps at the empty air beside his left hand. He reaches again and ends up knocking the water all over the table. “Sorry,” he jumps up as he gets the napkins and quickly pats the spill dry.
Taehyung watches him with a smile on his lips and his smile only widens when Jimin’s knees begin to knock against his (it’s only by accident of course). “My Jimin is so cute,” Taehyung reaches out to tap his nose. Jimin’s heart is currently experiencing some sort of cardiac arrest at hearing the words “my” and “jimin” coming out of Taehyung’s mouth in the same sentence. He trips on the base of the table, not his own feet, and falls back against the chair.
“This doesn’t change anything,” Jimin huffs and crosses his arms. “You can at least take night classes right?”
“I don’t want to go,” Taehyung begins to pout again and looks at Jimin imploringly. “I’ll pay for the dinner today?” he offers cheekily.
“We both know that I’m still going to pay for tonight’s dinner either way,” Jimin is attempting to resist the urge in his heart that is currently shouting to give in to Kim Taehyung and his stupidly cute face.
Leaning back against the chair Taehyung crosses his arms. “But I need to help pay the rent too. Come on Jimin let me work full time too.”
“No,” Jimin says.
“No?” Taehyung asks as he looks at Jimin hopefully.
“You have to go take night classes if you aren’t going to college.”
“Urgh, fine.” Taehyung puts his head over the seat of his chair as he pinches the bridge of his nose very dramatically. “I was going to have such a fun time feeding the pigeons shrimp crackers all day too.” He jerks up in his seat to dig his heel into Jimin’s foot.
“Ow,” Jimin gives Taehyung a look but Taehyung only gives him a grin with his complete set of teeth. It’s been almost a year (and seventy-five days, nine hours, and fourteen seconds) and Jimin thinks his heart should have learned how to calm down by now.
part one | part two | part three
fandom: bangtan boys (soulmates au)
pairing: taehyung/jimin
word count: 22,716
a/n: a bday fic for dim because they absolutely adore vmin. and sorry this took so long (over two months i cry) and this was never meant to be over 10k at all. also please listen to this while reading. (ao3 link)
tonight, we'll defy the stars (hello my old heart)
Park Jimin is sixteen years, three hundred and thirty-nine days, eleven hours, twenty-eight minutes, and five seconds old when his counter stops.
He’s sixteen years, two hundred and seventy-four days, three hours, fifty-four minutes, and thirty-one seconds old when he’s in the bathroom. The first set of black zeros are set into his skin when he’s washing his hands in the sink, eyes looking anywhere but the mirror in front of him. Jimin rolls up his sleeves and two very still numbers catch his eye. The water is still running as he runs his index finger over the zeros. He frowns as his fingers move past them to the last two digits, where he can feel the numbers changing every second. He’s never paid too much attention to his counter, unlike the his overenthusiastic classmates who could keep track of their counter daily, but last time he checked he was sure he had more time. He thinks back to all the pamphlets his parents have given him, their long lectures and talks, the discussions in school. Jimin’s heart begins to quicken and he can feel his blood pounding.
He makes it out of the bathroom in record time.
Back in class Jimin slips into his chair quietly as the teacher writes something on the board. He stares straight ahead at the scrawl of words and grips his pencil tightly. The blood is pounding even harder and his head is throbbing in rhythm to the numbers slowly ticking down on his wrist.
“Jimin,” a faint noise registers in one ear. “Jiminie, Park Jimin!” He finally turns when his hair is yanked to see Taehyung peering curiously at him. “You okay?”
Jimin thinks about the black numbers on his wrists and swallows, “Yeah.”
Taehyung peers at him curiously for a moment before shrugging his shoulders. “Well since you were spacing out do you want my notes then?”
“I’ll fail if I look at your notes,” he snorts.
His best friend only pouts at him, “Hey! My notes aren’t that bad. Besides, my doodles beat your drool-stained papers any day.”
Jimin only hits him in retaliation.
He goes back home that afternoon with Taehyung, his feet scraping against the sidewalk as he kicks the loose gravel and his eyes trained on the bland cement. Taehyung hangs off his shoulder, his mouth is spitting out words even faster than the seconds ticking away on his wrist and Jimin can’t bring himself to listen to Taehyung, not today.
“Jimin,” Taehyung cups his hands and shouts into his ear.
He pauses mid step and turns to his side. “What?” he asks, dumbly.
Taehyung crosses his arms and huffs, “Are you even paying attention to me, Park Jimin?” Taehyung narrows his eyes and bends forward, his face nearly touching Jimin’s.
Jimin instinctively leans backwards and shoves his best friend. “Why are you so weird?”
“Hey, don’t be like that I was just making sure aliens didn’t abduct you or something.” Taehyung puts an arm over Jimin’s shoulder again and Jimin can only hope that Taehyung doesn’t hear his blood pounding as he rests his head against his.
“I think the aliens gave you some weird injection when you were a kid,” he miffs.
Taehyung tilts his head to the side and looks at him for a minute. “I think you’re the weird one, Jimin-ah. You always were a snapback because you’re too lazy to brush your hair.”
He frowns as he takes off his hat and runs a hand over his hair, “Says you when you dyed your hair pink. Pink, Tae, neon pink. You dyed your hair pink.”
“The pink hair dye was really speaking to me,” Taehyung looks at Jimin like it was the most obvious reason in the world. He’s pushed forward and nearly lands into his mother’s new planted flowers. “Go get some rest okay?” Taehyung waves at him.
Jimin swallows, “Yeah.” The black numbers on his wrist have never burned so hotly before.
Nearly over a month has passed when the second set of numbers stop. Jimin is over at Taehyung’s house (he’s sixteen years, three hundred and thirty-eight days, three minutes, and fifty-eight seconds old and his counter isn’t slowing down one bit). The two of them are playing video games together instead of studying for upcoming exam. Jimin leans closer into the flashing screen and hoots when the text flashes across the screen.
“You’re so bad at this Taehyung-ah,” Jimin coos as he pats Taehyung’s face. He receives a kick to the stomach and Taehyung smiles at him cheekily. “You wound me, is this how you treat all your friends?”
Taehyung walks over and sits down on Jimin’s stomach and he lets out a gasp. “No, it’s just you. You’re special.”
Jimin snorts and prepares a retaliation but the other boy has picked up one of the fallen controllers. Jimin groans as he prepares himself to be Taehyung’s yoga mat for the next hour. He closes his eyes and lies there before something catches the corner of his eye.
His eyes are slowly drawn over and it would be comical, except for the steady uneasiness that’s been lying in his stomach for forty-one days. His eyes lock with the four motionless digits. The dread comes in and it’s building up. Jimin feels queasy and the world is spinning around him. The television screen is too bright and the speakers are too loud, he thinks as he turns his head over. He can feel his wrist beating steadily, with each beat another second is gone. His heart is pounding, his wrist is on fire, the blood is leaving his head, he can’t swallow and he wants to throw up, and the seconds are still counting down. His mind is racing and running and the counter it’s still-
“Ow,” Taehyung shrieks as he rubs the back of his head.
Jimin snaps his head up and he’s trying to catch his breath and calm down except the seconds keep on ticking by. “Sorry,” his voice comes out hoarse. He looks around and when was he standing? His head hurts and he rubs his temples for a minute before walking to the front door.
“Why are you leaving already?” Taehyung calls out petulantly as he walks over.
“I uh,” Jimin’s hand is on the doorknob and it feels slippery in his grip, “my stomach doesn’t feel well.”
Taehyung leans forward and grasps Jimin’s head in his hands. He puts his forehead against his for a good full minute and Jimin’s can feel his heartbeat speeding up. “Your forehead is hot,” Taehyung leans back for a minute and frowns. He bends down to grip Jimin’s waist and rests his head against his stomach.
“Uh,” Jimin flinches and tries to move backwards.
“I was listening to the fluids in your stomach,” Taehyung makes a shushing motion with his hand. Jimin just hopes he doesn’t hear the erratic beating of his heart which dropped into his stomach roughly five minutes ago. He stands up after another minute and pats Jimin’s cheek. “Feel better Jiminie.”
Jimin only nods because something is still firmly lodged in his throat. When he’s at the end of the street he takes a left instead of a right and runs.
“Where were you?” Taehyung asks the next day, while chewing on a pencil thoughtfully. The two of them are in the library and Jimin has a book open in front of him and a notebook on the side. He freezes and something, luckily not his heart this time, drops in his stomach again. “Well where were you?”
Taehyung is looking at him expectantly and Jimin squirms in his seat. “What do you mean?” he goes for instead.
“I went to your house and brought some rice cakes my mom made for you and you weren’t there,” Taehyung whines as he reaches into his backpack to throw a container of rice cakes at him.
“Ow,” Jimin rubs at his head and that ever-present sinking feeling in his stomach comes back again. “Sorry,” he says, eyes looking down. Last night he spent the entire time dancing until his blood was roaring in his ears and he couldn’t move anymore, just to get that feeling away.
“Don’t be sorry,” Taehyung scoffs as he takes the container and opens it, “just eat my mom’s rice cakes otherwise she’ll be upset.” Jimin nearly chokes as his mouth finds itself with four new acquaintances.
When he finally manages to swallow it all down he sends Taehyung the dirtiest possible glare in the world. Taehyung, of course, only kicks him under the table and force feeds him more rice cakes. The two of them continue on, oblivious to the judgemental looks of their classmates. He smiles for the first time since yesterday.
An hour later and the two of them are still confined to the library. Jimin taps his pencil against his notebook restlessly while Taehyung sticks out his tongue as he carefully outlines his doodles in sharpies. Jimin groans as he puts his head down to rest against the table.
His eyes snap open and he bolts up when he can feel part of him ablaze. His gaze is automatically attracted to his wrist, and when he puts his other hand against it he hisses because it stings. Taehyung’s eyes flit over to him momentarily and Jimin smiles painfully at his friend. His wrist is on fire and the fire is spreading, coursing through his veins. He can feel the fire traveling to his heart, which is thumping painfully and threatening to jump out of his chest at any moment and for all the wrong reasons. The fire is spreading quickly and the black numbers are turning white. Jimin clutches his wrist and grits his teeth as it shakes. He can’t do this he can’t and not now, not when he’s surrounded by all his classmates.
Jimin stands up, nearly knocking his chair over. “I need to go,” he barely manages to choke out before he’s up and out. His legs feel wobbly but he runs out of the library anyway before he can hear Taehyung yelling for him.
He’s outside now, at least a couple of blocks away from the high school. Jimin clutches his head and slumps down against the wall. He gasps for breath, needing the oxygen to fill his lungs. His chest is on fire and he can’t breathe (he’s sixteen years, three hundred and thirty-nine days, nine hours, twenty-eight minutes, and five seconds old and his counter has stopped).
Jimin pounds his fists against the gravel as he leans back, still panting for breath. The pain in his chest still hasn’t subsided and the fire is still travelling throughout his body. He glances at his wrist, the zeros glowing a painful bright white. He’s sixteen years, three hundred and thirty-nine days, nine hours, twenty-eight minutes, and twenty seconds old and his counter has stopped.
The pain is still there and his entire body is on fire. Sweat is pouring dripping down his face and he looks up at the sky, a pretty sort of blue that everyone can’t help but marvel at. He lets out a scream. He’s sixteen years old, three hundred and thirty-nine days, nine hours, thirty-one minutes, seventeen-
“Park Jimin what the hell?” Taehyung barely manages to pant out before he collapses next to him. “I looked all over for you.” He grabs his shoulders and shakes him.
Jimin lets out a small hiccup. “Tae, I,” his voice is strangely shaky and his lip is quivering and for some reason his eyes are prickling. He takes another deep breath, “My counter it,” his body is no longer on fire but he can’t manage to take a proper breath. He closes his eyes and blinks away the tears. He opens his mouth and tries to continue but all the oxygen is gone.
Taehyung lets out a hollow laugh. “You’re an idiot, you know that.” his hand brushes his cheek and he holds Jimin’s face in his own. Taehyung yanks him closer to put their foreheads against one another. Jimin can feel his breath against his own and the striking contrast in temperature helps him breathe a little.
He hiccups, “My parents, they’re-” The words seize up in his chest again. “What are people going to think?” Jimin eyes look anywhere but at Taehyung’s. They’re too intense, too dark, too focused. He hasn’t ever seen him with a gaze like that. He’s sixteen years old, three hundred and thirty-nine days, nine hours forty-three minutes, fifty-
“Shut the fuck up,” Taehyung says and his lip quivers too. Jimin finds himself embraced into a hug and tears are coming now his face. He can’t stop crying and he can’t stop shaking and the panic bubbles up from his stomach into a hiccup. “You’re an idiot.”
“You already said that,” Jimin laughs and more tears are coming down. He buries his face into Taehyung’s shoulder and clutches onto him.
Park Jimin is sixteen years old, three hundred and thirty-nine days, ten hours, two minutes, and twenty-one seconds old and his heart is racing for different two reasons.
It’s less than a month later (twenty-five days, six hours, nineteen minutes, and ten seconds) and Jimin has carefully stored away what he likes to call The Incident into a small dusty corner into his mind with plenty of bubble wrap and red stamp labelled: DON’T OPEN. This time he’s sitting in the park, an old thing that no one ever comes to anymore, with Taehyung and the two of them are swinging back and forth on the faded yellow seats.
Taehyung is staring into the depths of his soda as if it holds another universe before asking, “What do you want for your birthday?”
“What,” Jimin states as he continues to draw a picture in the dirt with his foot.
“Your. Birthday.” Taehyung is no longer looking at the soda can and why hasn’t Jimin ever noticed how nice his eyes were.
“I got that the first time,” He mumbles and ducks down. “Besides isn’t that ruining the whole point?”
Taehyung just rolls his eyes as he leans over to punch Jimin. “I’m being serious here.” He begins to pout and Jimin wants to know when his best friend got so cute.
“I don’t know,” Jimin says and he starts swinging back and forth again because he thinks if he looks at Taehyung for a second longer his face might turn red.
“You’re supposed to be helping me,” Taehyung grumbles and he reaches over to punch Jimin again. Except, this time his arms end up flailing wildly, the soda can smacking Jimin in the face. Jimin briefly wonders when he got so enraptured by chicken-like movements. “Sorry,” Taehyung offers with a cheeky smile.
Jimin shakes his head as he leaps off his swing to run over and tackle Taehyung to the ground. Taehyung shrieks as he falls backwards with Jimin landing on top of him. The two of them are involved in a full-out scuffle and his parents are going to yell at him for the mud stains but Jimin doesn’t care. Taehyung’s laughter fills his ears and Jimin’s heart feels lighter than it has in days.
He comes into class the next day and it’s not even five minutes later when he’s tackled from behind. “Hey,” Taehyung whispers as his arms snake up to circle Jimin, “happy birthday.”
Jimin is sixteen years, three hundred and sixty-four days, sixteen hours, twenty-one minutes, and thirty-one seconds and he can feel a blush slowly creeping up the back of his face and he’s glad that Taehyung is too busy burying his nose into his neck. “Where’s my birthday present?” He asks as he takes puts his hands over Taehyung’s.
“You’ll get it later,” Taehyung miffs and Jimin can hear the pout in his voice. The two of them stand like that for a minute, Jimin leaning back into Taehyung’s hold. He breathes in and he doesn’t understand why his heart is dancing wildly in his chest, not when his countdown has ended, not when he hasn’t met his soulmate yet. Taehyung is still burying his face into Jimin’s neck when he bites down.
“What the hell?” Jimin jumps up and out of Taehyung’s grasp a beat later. He spins around to see Taehyung laughing and rubs his neck.
“You taste weird.” Taehyung deadpans. Jimin is using all his willpower to not break out in scarlet and his heart is doing that strange thing where it skips a few beats, or maybe ten. “Besides it’s for good luck. Don’t you know?”
“Good luck,” Jimin repeats after him. And before he can think of something else to say, because his mind stops whenever Kim Taehyung is anywhere within five feet of him, class starts.
They’re walking back home and Jimin’s arm is draped around Taehyung’s (“because it’s cold”) and he’s listening to the new Big Bang song. Taehyung is singing along loudly, and Jimin can’t help the grin that’s slowly spreading along his face as he joins. They’re belting out lyrics, running down the street with arms thrown out. By the time they reach Jimin’s house he’s breathless and his forehead is damp with sweat and he can’t stop smiling.
“Open it,” Taehyung shoves a pink box too neatly wrapped at him.
“Did your mom wrap it for you?” Jimin asks as he takes the box in his arms. He’s sitting down on the carpet (seventeen years, five minutes, and eighteen seconds old) and he snorts as he sees the ballerinas on the package.
Taehyung gives him a kick and rolls over, resting his face on his hands. “Don’t be a hater.” Jimin tickles his chin and soon Taehyung is a complete mess on the floor. He’s shaking and rolling around, feet slamming against the carpet and his voice is loud. “Stop it,” Taehyung whines a second later when he’s out of breath. He sits up and shoves the box at Jimin. “You have to open it,” he whines.
“Fine,” he replies and begins to scratch at the tape with his nail. He struggles for a minute before finally peeling the piece of tape off.
“Urgh, you’re too slow Jiminie.” Taehyung snatches the box away from him and begins ripping at the pink paper. Jimin leans back against the couch as he watches Taehyung furrow his eyebrows and continues to tear at the paper. “There,” he says a beat later and the two of them are surrounded by the remnants of the wrapping paper.
Jimin takes the box and peers inside. “You didn’t,” he gives Taehyung a look as his breath catches in his throat. Taehyung grins cheekily and his cheeks match his outrageously pink hair. He takes out the snapback and reaches into the box again. There’s a Taeyang album lying in there as well.
“So you like it right?” Jimin looks over at Taehyung and he’s biting his nail.
“Yeah,” he replies breathless.
“Good, that means we can get cake.” Taehyung stuffs the new snapback on Jimin’s head before leaping up into the kitchen, hooting loudly.
He opens the refrigerator door to pull out the cake. When Taehyung begins opening drawers to find plates and forks and Jimin decides that he should probably get the knife. The two of them sit down at the table, with Taehyung insisting that he needs to put the candles in (“you can’t do it right,” he explains while concentrating on setting the candle into the cake).
“I’m done,” Taehyung beams at Jimin as he looks up from the cake. There’s a bit blue frosting smeared on his nose and in the ends of his hair but Jimin doesn’t tell him that.
Jimin begins to light the candles and he’s nearly finished when Taehyung sprints out of the room. “Taehyung the wax is going to drip onto the cake,” he calls.
“You can’t forget these,” Taehyung comes in with an orange birthday hat complete with glitter and lions. He walks over to Jimin and begins snapping the strap.
“Where those left over from your sister’s birthday?” He asks when he actually meant to say why do you look so cute this isn’t fair.
His friend rolls his eyes as he walks over to fit the cap on Jimin’s head. “Shut up,” Taehyung replies easily and snaps the strap for extra measure. “You can’t not have a birthday without the hats.”
“Did you really have to do that?” Jimin retorts as he rubs at his chin, “It hurts.”
“Don’t be a baby,” Taehyung replies and sticks out his tongue. He runs to close the blinds, even though isn’t anywhere near dark enough, before sitting directly across from Jimin.
Taehyung is belting happy birthday loud enough to that the entire street can hear. He’s grinning and it’s infectious and Jimin finds himself smiling so hard that it hurts (even though his counter has stopped, even though he hasn’t found his soulmate yet). The song ends and Jimin leans across the table. From here he can stare into Taehyung’s eyes, illuminated by the candlelight and the sunlight streaming in from the cracks of the blinds. Something clicks in his head. He takes a deep breath and blows and wishes (harder than he ever has before).
“What did you wish for?” Taehyung asks after they’ve finished half the cake, even with Jimin’s complaints.
“If I tell you it won’t come true,” Jimin responds easily before letting out a loud burp. Taehyung frowns as he punches him.
Park Jimin is seventeen years, two hours, forty-three minutes, and twelve seconds old and he’s falling hopelessly.
Winter has come and the first snow has already fallen. Break has already come so Jimin and Taehyung are sitting outside on the curb. Taehyung watches the snow drift and swirl while Jimin rests his head against Taehyung’s shoulder. His cheeks are pink from the cold and most definitely not because his heart is racing. There’s an awful sort of pitter patter when Jimin looks up to see snowflakes resting on Taehyung’s nose. He gets so lost that he doesn’t notice when Taehyung stands up abruptly, carefully brushing the snow off his pants.
He spits out a mouthful of snow, “A little warning next time.” Jimin gathers a bit of snow in his hands, it’s soft and not too wet so he makes a snowball.
“Don’t be such a baby,” Taehyung shakes his head as he walks ahead, carefully stepping in the snow. He turns around to see Jimin carefully packing the snow. “Oh no you don’t,” Taehyung says as he slows down, mid-step.
Jimin only grins as he throws the snowball, “Who’s the baby now?” Taehyung shrieks as he begins to run. Jimin chases him, scooping up snow in his hand as he laughs. He’s throws another snowball and this one hits Taehyung in the face.
“It’s a war,” Taehyung says a moment later after he’s wiped the snow off. He’s grinning wickedly and Jimin starts grinning as well.
The two of them are chasing each other down the street and Jimin’s heart feels like it’s flying. Taehyung is ruthlessly pelting snowballs, almost all of them missing. Jimin’s hands are nearly numb from the cold and he can’t feel his toes but he still runs anyway. His coat is soaking wet when Taehyung tackles him to the ground and stuffs a fistful of snow down the back of his shirt. Jimin screams out loudly with Taehyung smiling above him.
“My coat is all wet,” Jimin says when they’ve arrived back at Taehyung’s house. He frowns when he notices all the water dripping down his jacket before hanging it up. “My shirt is wet too,” Jimin lifts his shirt up uncomfortably, the thick cotton sticking to his skin. “Look,” he thrusts the bottom of his shirt into Taehyung’s face.
“Well, what do you want me to do about it?” Taehyung rolls his eyes as he hangs up his jacket as well. He flings his boots off, water splashing everywhere.
“My socks are wet too,” Jimin pouts as he holds up his socks as evidence.
“Are you like five?” Taehyung deadpans as he fixes Jimin with a look. “And you’re too old for that,” he pats Jimin’s cheeks with cold hands and Jimin scrunches up his nose.
“But it’s so uncomfortable,” Jimin follows Taehyung up the steps to his room. “They’re all sticking to me and I’m wet and if I get sick during break it’s all your fault, Kim Taehyung.”
Taehyung shoves Jimin to the floor, “Stop being such a kid, Park Jimin,” he imitates. Taehyung sits down on Jimin’s stomach and Jimin is being pressed into the floor. He makes a sort of choking noise.
“How much have you been eating?” He asks while panting. The blood circulation to his head is slowly being cut off and Jimin this is most definitely from his wet shirt, not because he can see Taehyung smiling at him.
“I was going to lend you clothes,” Taehyung pouts at him and Jimin blames the fact that Taehyung is sitting on him for the lack of breath, “but then you were mean to me. Say you’re sorry.”
“Are you kidding me?” Jimin raises and eyebrow while wondering if he can push Taehyung off him or not.
“Please?” Taehyung asks as he begins to poke at Jimin’s cheek. “You can do it, for me?” He begins to pat his eyelashes and Jimin thinks that Taehyung looks ridiculous.
“You look ridiculous,” He scowls and tries to avoid Taehyung’s index finger. Taehyung is still batting his eyelashes and smiling and Jimin thinks it’s the lack of better judgement that has him mumbling out a “sorry.”
“What was that?” Taehyung cups his ears as he giggles loudly.
“You’re annoying as hell,” Jimin says without hesitation and if he was cold a minute ago now he’s not because heat is rushing up and he hopes he isn’t turning red. Taehyung gets up and Jimin breathes, hoping the oxygen will help his heart rate come back down. Taehyung chucks a sweater and pair of jeans at him. “Hey,” Jimin frowns.
“Go change in the bathroom and come down later,” the other boy shoves him out of his room.
The two of them are both changed into a fresh pair of clothes (“you’re not wet now, so stop being a baby”) and Jimin’s heart has somehow learned how to do acrobatics. He’s tapping against the table absently and Taehyung is currently involved in tearing off the wrapping paper, not pink because Jimin isn’t weird. Jimin can feel his palms turning clammy and he subtly wipes his hands on Taehyung’s jeans.
“Did you actually get me all of this?” Taehyung turns back around after carefully inspecting his presents for a good solid ten minutes. His smile is bright but his eyes are brighter and Jimin thinks that maybe he should start looking for insurance companies.
He barely manages out a “Yes,” before his heart jumps in his throat and his voice cracks.
“Okay, it’s cake time,” Taehyung hoots excitedly and claps as he puts on his hat and holds his new, oversized plush lion underneath his arms. He comes over, precariously balancing utensils and candles on top of the cake. Taehyung lets them all drop with a loud thud. He places the lion to the side and begins putting the candles in.
Jimin takes the lion and begins playing with its mane. “Look it’s you, Tae,” He says several minutes later. Taehyung looks up briefly from his cake, there are eleven candles so far only eight more left, and raises an eyebrow. “You should take a picture with it.”
“Yeah,” Taehyung replies distractedly while placing another candle and Jimin frowns.
When he’s finally done Taehyung screams happy birthday, bouncing up and down so quickly Jimin is actually worried he’ll fall out of his seat. This time the glow of the candles do illuminate his face and Jimin hates the way his heart sort of flops around like a fish. Taehyung is smiling and Jimin’s heart does more flopping. He takes and exaggerated breath to blow out the candles and when the smoke has cleared Taehyung smiling and it’s so bright it hurts. Jimin is (seventeen years, seventy-eight days, four hours, thirty-five minutes, and eight seconds old), grinning and heart clenching.
Later Jimin smears frosting all over Taehyung’s face and the two of them are running around, tripping over their own feet and bumping into the doors, and Jimin is laughing just as hard as Taehyung.
One hundred and seventy-six days, twenty-one hours, ten minutes, and fifty-eight seconds later Jimin’s parents confront him. It’s at dinner and Jimin pauses in mid-bite, his blood freezing over and looking into his parents’ black eyes. Jimin glances down to his wrist and slowly realizes with horror that he’s no longer wearing the constricting wristband on his left hand. He swallows and puts down his chopsticks and he’s no longer hungry.
“Jimin,” his mom begins unsurely, she smiles as she begins, her eyes strangely cold, “when did your counter stop, dear?” Hearing the word dear Jimin shivers and he’s never felt so cold before.
He choses not to answer, and instead looks down towards his lap. Jimin fiddles with his fingers, and the black numbers catch his eye and it all comes crashing back.
His dad isn’t nearly so kind. “Where’s your soulmate?” he snaps, metal chopsticks clicking harshly against the silence. Jimin slinks down into his chair. “Don’t make me repeat myself,” he hisses.
“I,” Jimin begins and his blood circulation is being cut off again. It’s not pleasant in the slightest and so completely different from when he’s within ten feet of Kim Taehyung. His mom smiles encouragingly, and all he can see are the points of her teeth. “I don’t have one,” he finishes lamely.
“How do you not have a soulmate?” His father slams his chopsticks down onto the table. Jimin flinches.
“Are you sure?” his mother asks and her smile flickers for a minute. She regains her composure and sits up straighter. “I’m sure it’s some nice, pretty girl in your class.” There’s a hint of desperation to her voice as she leans forward. And Jimin remembers when she last used that smile.
“No,” he says firmly. “I didn’t find my soulmate.” Blood is roaring in his ears and Jimin sits up ramrod straight in his seat. “I don’t have a soulmate.”
“You do,” his father insists. “You do.”
Jimin looks at his younger brother who’s sunken into his seat, looking everywhere but him. His mom is no longer using her smile and strength surges through Jimin. “I don’t have a soulmate.”
His mother begins to laugh and it’s nervous, titterring and border-line hysterical. “Jimin don’t be ridiculous. You have a soulmate. Even if you haven’t found yours, we’ll get you one.”
“Mom,” Jimin breathes in for a moment, unclenching his fists, “I don’t have a soulmate.”
“There are agencies you know,” his mother drops her voice into a whisper. “They can help you. They can get you a soulmate. They know how to forge the papers, you don’t have to go on like this.”
“Go on like what?” Jimin snaps.
“You don’t have to go on the path you’re continuing on,” his father cuts in. “You don’t have to be unhappy. Jimin, we want to help you.”
Jimin stands up. “No,” he says and looks his father straight in the eye. His mother isn’t looking at him and staring at the wall. “No,” he repeats. Jimin’s entire body is shaking and he’s never felt rage so deeply before. He walks out of the kitchen, each step resounding in the house, and slams the door behind him.
Outside, Jimin can’t breathe. There’s a monsoon due next week yet the atmosphere is suffocating. He’s taking deep breaths as he’s running. His feet pound of the pavement and he glances down to see he’s still wearing slippers and socks. Jimin feels the tears prickling in the back of his eyes and he wipes them. The rage which was filling him up back in the kitchen is no longer there and the despair and disgust in coming back in huge waves.
He stops running and he surveys the houses around him. Jimin gasps for breath as his heart rate skyrockets. There are cars all around him, people talking, and dogs jumping. He sees a couple holding hands, with matching gazes and nearly trips as he tries to make it to the nearest garbage can. Jimin stands up, supporting himself with one hand. His stomach is gurgling uncomfortably and his legs turn into jelly.
Kneeling down, Jimin begins to rock back and forth on his feet while shutting his eyes. He can feel hysterical laughter bubbling from his chest and the tears building up. His heart pounds wildly against his chest like a madman and is threatening to escape. In front of him there’s a couple holding hands, the two of them kissing. Jimin’s heart thumps pitifully at the sight of that. He leans back against the trash can, bringing his knees into his chest.
Still in his slippers Jimin feels ridiculous as he looks up at the sky. It’s blue, the nice kind that everyone can’t help but spend five minutes getting lost in. His heart is slowing down, yet it still hurts. He buries his face and hugs his knees even more tightly. Jimin can’t breathe, his heart is whimpering painfully. His lungs sting when he draws in a breath, but they hurt even more when he exhales. His chest feels empty and Jimin closes his eyes as he begins to rest against the trashcan.
(He doesn’t come home until the sun has nearly risen and the moon is still up in the sky. He’s seventeen years, two hundred fifty-four days, forty-one minutes, and thirteen seconds old and exhausted).
“Why are you all sunburnt?” Taehyung asks when Jimin comes over to his house four days later. Jimin opens his eyes hazily. He hasn’t gotten much sleep since when his parents confronted him, and even less so when his parents left on an impromptu vacation (“How fast can you book a flight out of the country?” his mother asks his dad the very next day).
“Hm?” Jimin asks as he rubs at his eyes. He lets out a long yawn as he stretches his back.
“Your face,” Taehyung repeats as he flops down next to him. “It’s all sunburnt.” He starts poking Jimin’s cheek, right where it’s all red and sore.
Jimin rolls over onto his stomach, “Stop it,” he moans as he digs his face into the carpet. “That hurts.”
“How’d you get sunburnt?” Taehyung asks again, rolling Jimin back onto his back. Jimin can’t find the strength to roll back onto his stomach so he covers his eyes with his arm instead. “Your face is all red,” and Jimin can feel Taehyung breathing on his arm.
“Uh-huh,” he replies. His eyelids are already extremely heavy and Jimin takes deep breaths as his body begins to relax.
Five minutes later a blanket is thrown on top of him and a pillow is placed underneath his head. “Fine,” Taehyung says fondly as he settles next to Jimin with a blanket and pillow as well. “I guess it’s nap time.”
Jimin wakes up later to find his best friend’s face attached to his stomach and his arms locked against his chest (he’s seventeen years, two hundred fifty-eight days, three hours, twenty-one minutes, and thirteen seconds old). He finds himself breathless as he strokes the ends of Taehyung’s obnoxiously bright hair.
His parents arrive the day right before school starts. They come in unannounced and Jimin nearly falls off the chair in the kitchen when they come back. His younger brother has a huge grin on salmon face and his skin is ten shades darker. His mom comes back with three new suitcases that Jimin doesn’t ever remember seeing. He can no longer find the deep wrinkles that previously creased her forehead, the ones that would always come whenever she smiled after a hard day of work.
When his father comes in he barges through the door, jaw square and his gaze set forth. His eyes are near a sheen of black ice that covers all the roads during the wintertime. Jimin notices that his forearms are tanner and he’s wearing a new shirt, as well as sunglasses that are hanging from his pocket. What stands out even more than all his family’s new appearances is the chill he gets when his father walks right past him. He walks straight past Jimin into the living room to set down two suitcases.
Jimin’s eyes follow his father’s movements. His mother goes to sit down on the couch, fanning herself. His brother drags in another suitcase, chattering loudly with his parents. The wheels of the suitcase grates on Jimin’s ears, he’s spent the past two months with only Taehyung’s company every other day. There’s a cold chill crawling into the house and the ice begins to spread to Jimin’s heart.
The entire afternoon Jimin sits motionless on his seat, except to move his eyes and turn his head to follow the movements of his family. Watching them walk in and out of the kitchen the ice begins to burn his heart. They start cooking dinner, and Jimin is still sitting there, watching them. He finally leaves for his room when they’ve only made food for three.
It’s fitting that Jimin’s family has come back on the day of the last monsoon.
Jimin’s sitting in the hard wooden chair, looking at his open textbook but not bothering to actually read it. He rolls up his sleeve to look at his wrist, something he hasn’t bothered to do in quite awhile. The black zeros stare mockingly at him before they blur together like the words on his textbook. He groans as he rests his head on the book, frustration welling up inside.
“Are you okay?” Taehyung asks five minutes later, when Jimin still hasn’t lifted his head back up. Jimin makes a sort of non-committal noise in the back of his throat. “Hey, Jimin-ah,” Taehyung says softly. The way his voice catches and the breath he exhales afterwards makes him look up.
“Yeah?” He asks and just when did those bags get under Taehyung’s eyes? There’s a prep book for the CSAT right underneath his forearm and a lump forms in Jimin’s throat.
He reaches out with his hand to put it on top of Jimin’s. Taehyung’s hands dry and cold over his, fingers knobby but not crooked and fat like his. “You alright?” He thinks there’s a nice sort of way Taehyung’s hands don’t fit perfectly over his, but they fit and it feels nice.
There’s a bitter laugh rising out of Jimin’s throat and the familiar feeling of inadequacy boiling in the pit of his stomach again. “At this point does it really matter?”
“Yes, yes it does.” Taehyung’s grips tighten and his knuckles are turning a sickly white. “Jimin, you can’t be like this.”
“Be like what?” Jimin retorts as he ducks away. The words come out sharper than he meant them too and regret is piling up as well. “I’m sorry it’s just that my counter,” and he’s choked back by a sudden sob. The tears are forming at the corners of his eyes and Jimin hastily his hand away from Taehyung’s so he can dab them. “Sorry,” his voice cracks.
Taehyung gets up and sits down in the seat right next to Jimin’s. He grabs his shoulders to turn him so the two of them are face to face. There’s a scary intensity to his eyes and Jimin just wants to go back to his room, where no one bothers him and no one acknowledges him. “Don’t be sorry Jimin.” Jimin’s heart shatters into a million pieces when he hears Taehyung say his name, and he’s never heard anyone say it that way.
Shaking, Jimin asks, “What am I going to do, Tae?” His hands won’t stop moving and his entire body is quivering as well. “I can’t take the CSAT, I can’t go to college, I can’t find a good job like my parents wanted me too.” He remembers the cold looks of his parents that summer night, and Jimin’s heart begins to stutter all over the place. “I can’t do anything. You need to register your counter when you apply for college, for work, for an apartment. You need it for almost everything. What am I supposed to do?”
“College is stupid,” Taehyung retorts and his grip is tightening on Jimin’s shoulders. “Do something that you want to do. As long as you’re doing something that you love with who you love that’s all that should matter.”
“But Taehyung,” Jimin says and the panic is rising up as well. He can’t stand this, he can’t stand the fact that he doesn’t have a soulmate, that his counter has stopped, and that he just doesn’t know.
“Shut up, Park Jimin,” he cuts him off. “You’re good at dancing right?”
“I guess,” Jimin fidgets uncomfortably to wipe the tears that are still flowing down. He thinks this entire situation is ridiculous as he lets a hiccup.
“Do you love it?” One, two, his heart skips a beat.
“Yes. What does this have to do with anything?”
“You’re so stupid, Jimin,” Taehyung says his name in that way again and Jimin thinks back to last year. He lets go of one shoulder to wipe the tears off his face. “We’ll rent an apartment together okay, you and I. We’ll both find jobs together. You can be a dancer and I’ll go work find an animal shelter. You can do something that you love. You don’t have to please everyone, don’t do this to yourself Jimin. What matters is you, okay.” Taehyung’s eyes are glassy and he smiles as he pokes Jimin in the center of of his chest.
“My parents though,” he croaks and now he’s crying even harder. “My entire family pretends that I don’t even exist. I saw my mom throwing out all the old family photos with me in them.” Jimin can’t stop the tears flowing down his face and his eyes are all puffy, his bangs covered in sweat. “Sorry,” he whispers later when he manages when the crying has subsided a bit.
“I told you already, don’t apologize. Jimin, please stop doing this to yourself. Stop beating yourself up for something that you can’t control. Please, Jimin.” Taehyung moves his hands up to brush Jimin’s bangs out of his eyes and Jimin can’t stop his crying now. He hiccups as Taehyung gently, but firmly holds his face and leans in so there’s only a good few inches between them. “Don’t burden yourself. I’m always here for you whether or not you want to talk or not. That’s what best friends are for, remember?”
He chokes back a sob as he manages to let out a laugh and a small smile, “Yeah.”
“You’re an idiot you know?” Taehyung says as he smiles at him. His eyes are glassy and Jimin can see the water at the edges of his eyes. His smile is so bright that Jimin forgets that he needs to breathe for a moment.
“You already told me,” he croaks as Taehyung envelopes him in a hug. Jimin buries his face into his shoulder and slowly moves his hands up to wrap around Taehyung’s back as well. He still can’t stop hiccuping and the tears are still streaming down.
He draws back (twenty-eight minutes and thirteen seconds) later and Taehyung’s arms slowly leave as well. “I think,” Jimin begins as he raises his head to look up directly into Taehyung’s eyes. His head is spinning and his heart is hammering loudly in his ears. “I think,” he takes a deep breath before continuing, “that I’m not okay.”
Taehyung pulls him back in for another hug. “You’re so stupid Park Jimin,” he laughs and Jimin’s shoulder is turning slightly damp. “It doesn’t have to be okay. Jimin-ah,” he continues a bit more softly this time, “you’re the biggest idiot I know.”
Jimin is seventeen years, three hundred and twenty-nine, fourteen hours, twenty-seven minutes, and forty-five seconds old and he wants to laugh because he’s in love and so utterly stupid.
The two of them are walking to school, and Jimin’s hands are clammy as he holds onto Taehyung. (He’s eighteen years, twenty-nine days, seven hours, forty-two minutes, and fifteen seconds years old). Taehyung’s hand is cold in his and Jimin’s hands are coated in a disgusting layer of cold sweat. His cheeks are flushed (from the cold and the wind) and he presses his body against his.
“Why are you so nervous?” Taehyung asks him as he lets go of Jimin’s hand to wrap an arm around his waist. “You aren’t even taking the test.” He smiles as he pokes at his cheeks.
“Kim Taehyung, you have to try hard on this test,” Jimin scoffs as he bumps against Taehyung lightly. “It’s important you know.”
“But I don’t want to take it,” Taehyung pouts as he nuzzles into Jimin’s shoulder. “If you aren’t going to college then why do I have to go.” His grips tightens on Jimin’s waist.
“It’s important,” Jimin wriggles free of Taehyung’s grasp and he looks into his eyes. “You have to take it for me, okay?”
“What are you,” Taehyung begins as he flicks Jimin’s forehead, “my parents?” He drags Jimin forward by his hand. “Don’t be so worried Jimin, it’s just a silly test.” Jimin plants his feet on the ground and Taehyung stops when he can no longer move. “Fine, I’ll take it seriously,” he mumbles under his breath after Jimin gives him a pointed look. “But don’t get any wrong ideas, I’m not going to college without you.”
“Yeah,” Jimin’s breath hitches a little bit. “Okay, I can do that.”
Jimin paces nervously outside the entrance of the school. He goes up on his tiptoes yet he still can’t see that familiar outlandish pink hair standing out from the crowd. The first students have begun to filter out, their eyes drooping and foreheads damp with sweat. There’s loud hooting and some parents are crying as they run up to hug their children. Jimin gets a bitter feeling in his stomach because maybe in another universe, a kinder one, that could have been him.
He pushes through several hysterical parents and kids in his class (kids who will go to college and find their soulmate and settle down and get their happily ever after) to the school gate and there’s a splash of faded pink against the bland grey of the school uniforms. Taehyung makes his way to Jimin and jumps into his arms and Jimin is suffocating against Taehyung’s chest.
“The test was terrible,” Taehyung whines as he pulls Jimin in tighter. “It was so long and so boring and I nearly fell asleep. Please don’t ever make me go through that again.”
“I thought you said you’d try for me,” Jimin looks up at Taehyung and he squirms against the taller boy’s hold on him. “You did try didn’t you?” he panics because this test is important. He doesn’t want Taehyung to stay someplace where he’s held back just because Jimin can’t do anything.
“Don’t worry,” Taehyung sighs exasperatedly as he pats Jimin’s cheek with one of his hands. “I did try okay, for you.” He punctuates the you with a jab at his cheeks.
“Good,” Jimin lets out a breath he was holding since the morning. His heart is hammering loudly in his ears when Taehyung still hasn’t let him go. “Are you going to let me go?” he complains against Taehyung’s chest. “This is really uncomfortable.”
“This is your punishment,” Taehyung replies as he uses one of his hands to comb his fingers through Jimin’s hair. “You made me take the test so now you have to suffer.”
“Okay,” Jimin replies to one of the buttons on Taehyung’s blazer. He’s smiling like an idiot and his heart is doing stupid little flips inside his ribcage and dancing along to an imaginary song. (He’s eighteen years, twenty-nine days, eighteen-hours, five minutes, and fourteen seconds years old).
The two of them are sitting in the bibimbap restaurant two blocks away from Taehyung’s house after his CSAT scores came back. Taehyung is rocking back and forth on his chair with a pair of chopsticks in his hand. His eyes light up when the waiter sets the bibimbap right in front of them and almost knocks out his two front teeth as he scrambles to pull out the metal chopsticks. Jimin’s heart is racing quickly and he chooses to stuff the bibimbap into his mouth instead.
“I took the test,” Taehyung says around a mouthful of food with a huge grin on his face. “Now you have to promise me we’ll move into the same apartment together.”
“Only if you’re going to college,” Jimin argues as he thumps Taehyung’s forehead with the end of his chopsticks. “You didn’t take the test for nothing.”
“But Jiminie,” his best friend pouts as he puts on his best voice. Taehyung frames his cheeks with his hands as he tilts his head and widens his eyes. “I don’t want to go to college and leave you,” Taehyung looks at him and his face is ridiculous with those wide puppy eyes and dumb-looking pout. Jimin can feel his cheeks burning and he reaches for the glass of water.
“Um,” he says very articulately as his hand grasps at the empty air beside his left hand. He reaches again and ends up knocking the water all over the table. “Sorry,” he jumps up as he gets the napkins and quickly pats the spill dry.
Taehyung watches him with a smile on his lips and his smile only widens when Jimin’s knees begin to knock against his (it’s only by accident of course). “My Jimin is so cute,” Taehyung reaches out to tap his nose. Jimin’s heart is currently experiencing some sort of cardiac arrest at hearing the words “my” and “jimin” coming out of Taehyung’s mouth in the same sentence. He trips on the base of the table, not his own feet, and falls back against the chair.
“This doesn’t change anything,” Jimin huffs and crosses his arms. “You can at least take night classes right?”
“I don’t want to go,” Taehyung begins to pout again and looks at Jimin imploringly. “I’ll pay for the dinner today?” he offers cheekily.
“We both know that I’m still going to pay for tonight’s dinner either way,” Jimin is attempting to resist the urge in his heart that is currently shouting to give in to Kim Taehyung and his stupidly cute face.
Leaning back against the chair Taehyung crosses his arms. “But I need to help pay the rent too. Come on Jimin let me work full time too.”
“No,” Jimin says.
“No?” Taehyung asks as he looks at Jimin hopefully.
“You have to go take night classes if you aren’t going to college.”
“Urgh, fine.” Taehyung puts his head over the seat of his chair as he pinches the bridge of his nose very dramatically. “I was going to have such a fun time feeding the pigeons shrimp crackers all day too.” He jerks up in his seat to dig his heel into Jimin’s foot.
“Ow,” Jimin gives Taehyung a look but Taehyung only gives him a grin with his complete set of teeth. It’s been almost a year (and seventy-five days, nine hours, and fourteen seconds) and Jimin thinks his heart should have learned how to calm down by now.
part one | part two | part three