Chapter Text
“It’s okay. I like scary.” He smiles goofily.
Kim Taehyung wasn’t supposed to run into Park Jimin, the institution’s certified Satanist freak, in the rain. He wasn’t supposed to help him bury said Satanist’s recently deceased pet lizard out into the forest, away from his unappeased, outcasts of a family. He was a classmate. He might start prejudicial rumors, tainting what’s left of Jimin’s reputation (because it’s Jimin. Even putting up a funeral for a beloved is an act of necromancy). He wasn’t meant to see the infamous Park Jimin cry . Because surprise, surprise, occultists cry too.
But then again Kim Taehyung shouldn’t live in the forest either.
After all, the school’s freak shouldn’t have found his academic batch’s avowed basket case settling in a cramped, tiny tent out in the layer of the forest, orphaned and deserted. He says he’s okay, happy even with taking care of himself. And maybe Jimin is weak once you’ve seen him cry. And maybe he wants to keep this odd, soaking wet human before him too.
Still.
“I’m not like them, not like the other people. I’m….,” Jimin huffed, the tears blending in with the droplets of rain. He’s - “....I’m scary.”
“It’s okay. I like scary.” Taehyung smiles goofily.
Still his academic batch’s basket case became the first person he loved. And they maybe misfits, but who needs the whole world when you have found something better?
Because Jimin did found better.
He found Kim Taehyung.
Kim Seokjin was Taehyung’s best quirk (and there’s been hella lot) that came along with him.
Turns out Jimin didn’t have to worry over his best friend’s “current living quarters” - putting it simply, honestly - as it seems like Taehyung’s own best friend is handling the case. Seokjin was persistent and nurturing and maybe he fell in love with the oddball first (c’mon, tell Jin, who doesn’t fall for his boxy smiles? What do you mean the whole school? Basket Case? Do you wanna die?). And maybe Jimin should feel bad when he took over the “Best Friend” department, that Taehyung seeks Jimin out a lot even when Seokjin is right under his wing perfectly willing to hang out. But then again, they’re living together now.
Need he say more?
“Why are you so tiny?” Seokjin asks the first time Taehyung is out of earshot. Also known as the first out of many (odd) encounters of the soon to be close idiots.
Well, that’s a question Jimin’s surprised to hear.
He actually expects the Wiiiitch ! hiss first, to be frank.
“And your bangs are too long. How can you even see?” Jimin was an idiot who casted off Seokjin’s long fingers sneakily reaching for a scissor as Taehyung began to wander off nonchalantly. He was an even bigger dimwit for being too scared to scare off Jin’s approaching scissor-gripped hand and -
Snip.
“Oh my fucking god.” Seokjin laughs. Well, not laughing precisely.
He cooes.
“You’re somehow tinier (Jimin: That didn’t even made sense, hyung) now that I can see your woddy widdle, expressive eyes. Little Jiminie-” Jimin blinks. “The wiwwle baby.”
Jimin didn’t cast a curse, sorry to disappoint. He didn’t summon a demon to possess Seokjin either. Oh? Uh, nope, he doesn’t have a voodoo doll to cast spells nor harm him, contrary to popular belief. Sorry again.
But Jimin has “expressive eyes” for a reason.
They are, after all, the window to more than a few souls.
And the temperature in the room may have dropped a few degrees. The hairs on the older boy’s arms began to rise. Suddenly it feels like there are more than a few pairs of eyes watching them, hearing every exhale, acknowledging every rise and fall of their chest, of their emotions. Jimin notices Seokjin going stiff, almost as if a disturbing feeling is creeping into his stomach, as if sensing another presence in the room - something haunting, something unwelcomed.
“Don’t do that again.” Jimin says, a dangerous lilt to his tone. He curls his lips into a devilish grin, black eyes narrowing into slits. He knows Seokjin senses his aura, how sombre and ominous it became. A paragon of macabre. He can make the spirits speak to him too, to put him in his place. He can make the spirits do a lot of things.
No one crosses the wrong bridge with Jimin. God knows -
“ Awwww .” Seokjin tosses the scissors away before pinching both the younger’s chubby cheeks, seemingly unaffected. He cooes. “The widdle baby is smiling. So cute!”
And Jimin pouts.
“Hyung, you should be scared of me.” Whining. Park Jimin is whining now as his cheeks bunched up as Seokjin’s now pressing them together. The spirits sweat dropping at their seer’s quick change of moods. Aigoo.
“Aw, now why would hyung be scared of our little baby, Jiminie.” Seokjin kisses both apples. “Don’t be sad, hyung’s right here!”
“You’re only three months older than me!”
So they’re friends now.
(Actually, people say he and Seokjin are merely Taehyung’s sidekicks. And he means - no, erm, yeah, they’re right. They are. Welp. Who cares?)
“Burn in hell, witch!” They snickered as they dashed off, barely far enough to miss the drop of the empty bottle they threw at said witch.
It was holy water.
And now Jimin’s wet with it.
He looks down at himself, letting the droplets fall from his hair. His feet shifts, almost fidgets and he watches them. He wasn’t fizzing, hate to break it to you but he is uncomfortable. His clothes are sticking to his skin and he’s cold. He was silent for someone who was physically harassed, to no one’s surprise. Jimin just stares and stares and -
He lifts Jimin’s chin gently, strong fingers tucking under his skin so Jimin can look up. Before Jimin can even finish tilting, he felt softness blotting his hair, firm but consistent dabs and strokes Jimin later notices is done with a handkerchief. And Jimin stares at Jungkook’s focussed eyes, at the crooked bridge of his nose, of his pursed lips. Once he’s satisfied with Jimin’s hair, he starts wiping at Jimin’s cheeks, his temple, nose, cupid’s bow, and Jimin lets and lets and lets.
Jungkook tsks.
It’s odd, Jimin thinks. Because Jeon Jungkook is a good guy. He’s kind and sweet and reserved. Everyone has a crush on Jeon Jungkook. Kim Taehyung has a crush on Jeon Jungkook. Even Kim Seokjin once had a crush on Jeon Jungkook. Heck, maybe even those guys that drenched Jimin and bolted have a crush on Jeon Jungkook. Like he said, everyone likes Jungkook.
And it’s odd. All of this.
Jungkook offers Jimin his hoodie. Jimin strips right in front of him, glad to get off from his damp shirt and couldn’t care less at Jungkook’s shyness and immediately drifting eyes. A gentleman Jimin isn’t shy with and whose cologne he absolutely despises and he puts the garment on and it’s comfortable and Jimin thinks he can hate him and his choice of fragrance a little less. ( Axe? Really?)
Jungkook barely talked to him. He leaves after nodding at Jimin’s low “thanks”.
And Jimin forgets it ever happened.
He doesn’t, of course. No one really treats him so nicely before, Seokjin and Taehyung otherwise. But he gladly forgets the stench of his god awful cologne. Eughk .
Jeon Jungkook was beautiful. In a way where his flaws dissipate the fervor of his strength, his words piercing and unkind, his tone gentle and altruistic. He has the most picturesque smile, when he laughs it’s charming and never cruel, never at the expense of others. A prince - all of them nicknames. And there are excerpts Jimin and the spirits agree with. With Jungkook, everything is easy. Like a prince - everything is handed to him on a silver platter.
And Kim Taehyung was just as exceptional, just as perfect.
It’s only natural a love story is budding between them beautifully.
“You don’t have to.” Taehyung was breaking, voice crumbling. “Please, you don’t have to.”
And Jimin stiffens, cuts back from making another step and plasters his back against the wall. He’s hidden, his dark aura domed by his evasiveness. Tch.
“I-I won’t leave. Not this time, not - “
Jimin’s keen ears catches the sharp hitch of breath, his senses tingling as it understands the way Jungkook’s hands ache from the strong thud against the wall, when he rests his head against Taehyung’s chest, his crown against shirt, hands against the wall, and expression hiding back against the world. Like that. Just like that, Taehyung got more than what any of them could ever get from the prince.
Jimin should’ve left.
“You just don’t...you don’t fucking know .” Jungkook’s beath shudders. “You don’t fucking get to understand.”
The books on Jimin’s hand presses tighter against his chest, his hair falls on his eyes, shadows obscuring them completely. They’re telling him everything, their ghostly whispers, the scarcity of life, the lack of breath fanning against his ears.
They tell the tears, the gentleness. The touches, the wandering hands. The warm embrace, his ghost of words. The broken, the shards falling out of place. It’s such a mess, they say, and how beautiful it is. So beautiful. There’s this love that is nurtured, young and full of innocence. It’s sensitive, terrifying. Jimin knows even when the spirits tell so much. He knows two people who are meant to be right here, right now. And it’s faultless.
The next day, Taehyung says he might be busy.
For the next month, Jimin was used to hearing about the laughters and time Taehyung spent happily next to Jungkook’s side. More accurately from the phantoms, less accurately from the prince’s fanclub, even less accurately from Seokjin’s whines.
By the fourth month, Jimin was there when Taehyung cried.
By the fourth month and first week, Jungkook was loved and beautiful while Taehyung was outcasted and hideous.
By the fifth month, Kim Taehyung was laughing even through his hurt and Jeon Jungkook was a stranger they never dived in to befriend.
By now, Jimin kept playing into his role. As a best friend, as a pariah, and a subordinate. When Taehyung needs him, he’ll say his lines. When Seokjin gets in trouble, he lets Taehyung fixed his mess and shine. When Jimin cries one night, the camera doesn’t have to know. When he finds out everything that is Jeon Jungkook, the school’s perfect prince and the demons in his head and his broken spirit through a nosy wraith.
The camera doesn’t have to know.
It’s almost like an animated TV series.
Jimin’s days are enamoured by obstacles being courted by another set of headaches. His life pressing feathery touches with the right heroes who keeps coming back to pull him from the freezing void of vanquishment. The thing is, though, is that his series refuse to flow with the archetypal current, for him to fulfill the cliché role of being the protagonist in his own show. And Jimin has a lot to say.
But God simply refuse to write him lines.
Of course, perhaps his feeding himself too much inferiority, much enamoured himself with Kim Taehyung and his weighty and complex story. But it feels raw and it hurts when Taehyung thrives. He’s so beautiful in his naiveté, his intuitiveness, so breathtaking when he’s embracing bruises and wretchedness. He’s -
Taehyung was glowing, his smile teetering between breaking and blossoming by trembling lips. “I’m scared too, to be honest. I don’t know what I’m doing and I have no idea how to do it right. But I - I want it. With him, I just want .”
And Jimin understands and he’s happy too, for him, for Taehyung completely. Min Yoongi was such an odd but fulfilling character. He makes Taehyung happy.
But Jimin can’t stand it.
He can’t stand seeing the beauty in Jungkook’s smile being tainted by such bristliness, can’t swallow Jungkook’s blood trickling down from open scars everytime he sees Taehyung. Can’t stomach so much bruises bleeding so blatantly in front of everyone and still they say he’s so much more beautiful. So beautiful being alone.
It’s making him angry because Jimin doesn’t want to know about it anymore. But the spirits are relentless. Almost like they have imprinted on the fractured prince. They’re lying, of course. It can’t be true.
Jimin is not enthralled by Jeon Jungkook, will not be enthralled by Jeon Jungkook. Will never give his time to touch and listen and simply talk to Jeon Jungkook.
Jungkook is a loving lie the phantoms will always tell and Jimin just doesn’t want.
He is mourning everyday, Jimin-ssi.
You understand, kid. He needs someone who understands everything.
Jimin-oppa? Why won’t you talk to him? I just thought he could use someone like you.
Sometimes, Jimin hates how the spirits fall in tandem. When one of ‘em moves on, another fills in its place. He hates it and irks him the most when the rest of the phantoms gossip about Jungkook so animatedly to new wraiths. Jimin only rolls his eyes.
“He’s like a mouse.” Seokjin chews through the leaf, eyes narrowing a bit at a conversing Jungkook somewhere in the distance. He huffs when Jungkook wipes a stray sweat against a sleeve and laughs.
“Don’t you think Jungkook’s like a mouse?” Seokjin turns to him with a tilt in the head and a jut of his lower lip.
Unlike Seokjin who completely abandoned his duties as a temporary gardener for their science performance task, Jimin’s eyes falls on the soil as his hands grub through the latter using simply a mere hand trowel. “I think he has the resilience of one.” Jimin silently shushes the wraith telling him Jungkook’s only laughing to put up an act because it’s irritating. And Jimin felt compelled to look over his shoulder and now he did.
It’s only coincidental how Jungkook’s gaze drifts just as he finishes speaking with a grin. His captivating brown eyes presses feathery light tension on the theoretically Satanist.
Jimin turns to Seokjin with a quirk an eyebrow, ignoring the fleeting tension from Jungkook’s gaze on his body.
“Nah. It’s the teeth.” Seokjin snickers. “Yeah. Definitely the teeth.”
He doesn’t look beautiful . Jimin muses with a dull expression. He looks sad .
The weather was lashing down and Jimin’s feet gently splashes against a puddle as he trudged along down the path. Drops of precipitation crashes against the circular canopy of cloth before it trickles down and falls at the sides of Jimin’s feet. It was light, the rod of the umbrella gripped by a small hand, but brown eyes traces the raindrop trailing down Jungkook’s piercing jaw before it falls. Jungkook sits by himself under the clouds of rain, completely drenched with his dark bangs tucking solemn doe eyes away. His arms dangle against his kneecaps and Jimin can’t tell if it’s tears or rain that’s wetting his cheeks.
He looks heartbreakingly human.
Jimin goes standstill six inches away, and the rain stops pelting down so stubbornly on Jungkook’s shoulders. Soaked to the skin, Jungkook licks his lips.
“Sorry.” He murmurs without even sparing Jimin a fleeting glance. A hand wraps its fingers against his other hanging wrist and Jungkook just doesn’t want Jimin, doesn’t want anyone around.
And Jimin understands.
He murmurs back.
All around them, the spirits are crooning. They can feel his heart crashing against his ribs, they say. They can feel so much of Jungkook and how the demons in his mind are taunting him. They can feel the storm booming in his soul. He’s teetering over the edge.
And he smirks. Almost as if he can’t help himself anymore, Jeon Jungkook unravels.
His mother left. A wraith reminds. His father remarried.
Jimin stares blankly down at him.
He’s so afraid. He’s afraid to trust, so afraid to break further. He’s hurt, Jimin-ssi. He wants to love but he can’t even give himself that. He scares people away. He drives them away. He always wonders what’s the point. Every relationship he knows crashes and burns in the end. He’s afraid because maybe it won’t last. He believes it’ll never last.
He’s so sad.
It isn’t about Taehyung.
Jungkook is cold and intimidating even as he comes undone.
Jimin lowers himself and sits on his calves as his dark eyes refuse to distance from the lightning that’s crashing in Jungkook’s eyes. He ignores the wetness that’s tucking against his skin and he cares even less at the dirt in the soles of his shoes that’s digging into his rear end.
Fall apart. His eyes never wavered. I won’t leave.
Jungkook’s eyes are so enticing when they gaze at you. And even through his tears and anger, when they take him in, Jimin felt pulled in. Like he is all Jungkook ever breathed, at that moment, at this time, it felt like Jungkook was drawing him in. “You know.” Jungkook was selfish. He doesn’t want Jimin to look at, to focus on anything else but him. “How do you know?”
Jimin pulls out his handkerchief and ignoring the shiver that’s threatening to crawl in his spine, he began to gently dab and stroke at Jungkook’s features, wiping the raindrops away. He was sweet and kind about the act and surprises none of the spirits with how well he’s taking in the intensity of Jungkook’s beautiful, daunting stare.
Kiss him.
Jimin scolds the nine year old wraith.
“The spirits tell me.” Jimin hums at Jungkook’s surprise, small hand dragging the cotton towel all over the column of Jungkook’s sturdy neck. He tilts his head and leans in closer to sneak his hands higher behind the younger’s ear.
Jungkook’s sigh is ticklish against his skin, Jimin almost squirms. It’s breezy and almost intimate, how they’re so close and Jungkook could just….have him.
Jungkook’s breath tickles him once more. Again. Again. And Jimin doesn’t expect it, when the younger in all his burning out falls his head on Jimin’s shoulder. The way he tilts just the slightest bit and nuzzles his nose on the peachy, cold skin on Jimin’s neck and just. Breathes.
Jimin could melt.
He doesn’t.
Jimin focuses his attention on trailing down the cloth against Jungkook’s nape and when his other hand drops the rod of the umbrella and reaches to rest his palm at the back of Jungkook’s head, caressing lightly the dampness of his hair - he doesn’t think about it. Nor the way Jungkook’s hands began to wander around his waist and he squeezes. He touches. He grasps. He doesn’t let go
Together, they soak under the comfort of the rain.