Archive of Our Own

“Are you sure you have to go?” Jimin’s mother complains from the stoop of her door, squeezing his cheeks with warm hands that smell of the tteokguk she prepared as one of the dishes for their family dinner. “It’s Christmas in a few days, and your cousins are coming down. You’re so fond of them.”

“I haven’t seen them since we were kids, eomma,” he slurs, lips puckered from her tight grip, cheeks starting to ache.

“You used to take baths together—”

“Let him go, jagiya,” his father softly insists, coming to stand behind her in the brightly lit entryway, a hand on her shoulder to offer comfort. “You know he has to work.”

But the way he says it has guilt spilling into Jimin’s throat, as if he’s become wise to the yearly excuse he gives every Christmas and knows it to be a lie. When their eyes meet it’s all the confirmation he needs, and for a moment Jimin feels like a child again, when disappointing his parents was his greatest fear.

The warmth of his mother’s hands slips away, and as the cold seeps in he almost begs for them back, plagued by second thoughts, stomach seizing, moments away from marching up the porch and heading right back in—

But then his father gifts him with a familiar, kind smile, motioning with his chin towards the small side street where he parked, insisting, “Come on. I’ll walk you to your car.”

Jimin nods somewhat numbly, promising to text his mother as soon as he makes it back when she demands with a stern finger that he do so. She gives him five more kisses all over his face in quick succession before reluctantly heading back inside the house with a click of the front door that holds such finality. 

Jimin then turns to his father, watching as he carefully takes to the steps of the porch, body tense and ready to move in should he slip or need any help, a sigh of relief leaving him when he makes it down safely. Together the two traverse the narrow pathway towards the road, the neighborhood quiet, everyone retreating to the comfort of their homes and families. 

When they halt next to his sedan, Jimin can’t help but poke at the mud that makes a mess of the sidewalk with the toe of one of his Chelsea boots, the rain that fell earlier in the day turning into murky puddles. He stares at his distorted reflection, almost too nervous to look up, afraid of what he’ll discover in his father's eyes if he does.

It’s why he doesn’t see the hug coming, and Jimin’s mouth falls, the air leaving his lungs in a rush when he finds himself in a tight embrace. 

“Appa?”

A hand cups the back of his head, affectionately ruffling his hair. 

“You don’t have to feel bad for seeking happiness, Jimin-ah. You deserve it.”

His heart twists at the simplicity of those words, though the weight they hold means so much more, a kind of bittersweet joy filling Jimin while his father pats the middle of his back until he settles before stepping away. 

“Thanks for coming, son. I hope you have a merry Christmas. Drive safe, and don’t forget to text your eomma.”

“I won’t,” he's quick to reassure, receiving one last smile before his father walks back up the path and disappears into his childhood home. 

Jimin's breath clouds in front of him when he sighs, curling wisps that are short-lived, dissipating until the next exhalation. In a bid to escape the cold, he finally slips into the driver’s side of his car, starting the engine and cranking the heat up to full blast, rubbing his bare hands together as he sits there, hoping to chase away the chill.

There’s a suitcase in the back, and a hotel reservation in his name waiting for him. With one last lingering glance towards his parent’s lit up house; the picture of inviting warmth, Jimin puts the car in drive and pulls away.

🌨️

The perks of helping to run a luxury hotel chain are pretty extensive, which include receiving a voucher for a complimentary suite at any location of Jimin’s choosing as an annual incentive.

He redeems it every year, his little Christmas present to himself, always picking one of their sleepiest locations—a lodge resort in Pyeongchang-gun that’s connected to the Odaesan National Park, which can be quite the tourist attraction, but during this season is rather dead.      

The building is made of beautiful exposed stone and wood, the floor to ceiling windows completely lit up and showcasing the plethora of Christmas paraphernalia that it's been decorated with. Even the large Douglas Firs that frame the entryway are wrapped in twinkling lights, eliciting a sigh from Jimin.

He checks in, declining the offer to have his suitcase delivered up for him and gleefully accepts his keycards, traveling across the empty lobby with its assortment of comfy looking chairs and a massive stone fireplace, its chimney stretching all the way up to the vaulted ceilings, a roaring fire crackling away. There's another giant Christmas tree lit up in the corner near the hearth, decorated in glittering ornaments and vibrant lights, an unfortunate reminder of what Jimin came here to escape from, but he can't help but think it's pretty all the same, the ambiance matching the soft piano jazz that plays throughout the room.

Jimin likes to come down to the lobby and read most nights, enjoying the warmth and a cup of hot chocolate while occasionally watching the snowfall outside the massive windows. That’s exactly what he plans to do, right after taking his belongings up to his new home for the next couple of days, squealing over how big and opulent his suite is before leaping face first onto the massive bed that may as well be a cloud. He screams happily into the duvet, the tension finally escaping from his body in waves, and vows to enjoy this time he's made for himself.

Calling down to the front desk, Jimin sticks to old habits and politely requests that hot chocolate with extra marshmallows be delivered next to his favorite chair in front of the lobby fireplace rather than his room, expressing gratitude when he's assured it'll be ready in five minutes. He then changes out of his peacoat and into a comfortable oversized sweater with a wide neck, and a tendency for hanging off of his shoulder, swapping his chelsea boots for some fluffy socks and slippers.   

After grabbing the latest book that’s managed to capture his attention, Jimin takes the elevator back down to the main floor, running into no one at the late hour along the way. His drink is waiting for him exactly where he asked for it, steam wafting off the top past the mountain of white fluff, and Jimin's stomach clenches with joy at the mere sight.

It's the little things, really.

A hotel employee adds more logs to the fire for him, nodding at his smile and murmur of appreciation before leaving the area. It’s warm and cozy, Jimin’s seat conforming to his body just right, and if that wasn’t perfect enough, there are a plethora of blankets on offer made from the softest fleece. Jimin toes out of his slippers and curls up in the biggest, fluffiest one he can find, opening his book and releasing a sigh, body heavy once he settles into the cushion. 

There's really nothing better than this.

Reading at a leisurely pace, Jimin periodically sips from his hot chocolate, humming when the marshmallows practically melt on his tongue, and listens to the sounds of the fire crackling, joined by soft piano, looking up every now and then to watch as the snow flurries and picks up beyond the windows, the white flakes a sharp contrast to the dark backdrop, and immerses himself in the atmosphere. 

It’s serene.

Until it isn’t. 

The lobby’s main entrance doors slide open twenty minutes later, followed by the sound of a rolling suitcase snagging on something and getting knocked off its usual upright position before it’s righted again with a muttered curse, wheels on wood overly loud in the empty cavernous space. 

The murmuring voices from the front desk reach Jimin’s ears, slight irritation flaring up at the disturbance for the sole reason that he's no longer able to concentrate on the words in front of him, unintentionally eavesdropping instead.

“Reservation for Jeon Jeongguk.”

“Of course sir, we’ve been expecting you. May I have your bags delivered to your room?” 

“Yes, please.”

“Very good. Your room keys. Would you like to be escorted up?"

"That won't be necessary, I can find my own way."

"Of course, sir. Enjoy the rest of your night, and your stay."

"Thank you."

The conversation—from what he hears of it—ends, but Jimin can’t go back to his book, the sound of approaching footsteps filling him with dread as they get closer and closer, the idea of his solitude being forcefully ended making him anxious. 

A man takes the path between one of the sectionals and Jimin’s own chair, seemingly unaware of his presence, his back to him while he makes his way to the roaring fire. He removes the gloves from his hands and the snow-covered puffer jacket he wears as he goes, revealing a far more form-fitting black turtleneck underneath that matches the shade of his loose trousers and—

Woah. 

Jimin swallows. 

Those are some impressive muscles, which are all the more distinct when juxtaposed with just how tiny his waist is. He’s got snowflakes caught in his hair; the length on the longer side, and Jimin’s eyes track the movements of the stranger’s fingers as they come up to sweep the dark strands back, shaking out the snow. The man releases an audible sigh that makes his shoulders appear less tense, turning his jacket inside out and folding it into a kind of makeshift cushion, placing it on the smooth, knee-high stone that surrounds the hearth, clearly wanting to be as close to the flames as possible. 

When he goes to sit down, Jimin’s breath leaves him in a quiet rush, the pleasing shape of his back not at all preparing him for the startling attractiveness of his features. 

The man has a strong, sharp jaw with pouty pink lips, high cheekbones and a prominent nose that suits him, with the widest doe-eyes Jimin has ever seen that light up as if he managed to capture a few stars and trap them inside. 

He’s gorgeous—though that word falls terribly short—and Jimin’s mouth goes dry, continuing to watch the way he rolls the sleeves of his turtleneck up to his forearms, tendons visible beneath the skin, muscles flexing, and one arm is even covered in tattoos —

Jimin is in trouble. 

And if the ink, long hair, and his overall physical attractiveness wasn't enough to send his heart palpitating, both of his ears are pierced, and so is his lip, which purses as he absently tongues at the silver hoop, a chunky chain necklace encircling just beneath his throat and gleaming in the light. 

He's—wow.

Jimin has never seen someone that has the capability to heat his blood before, and remains as still and as quiet as he possibly can so that he may continue to admire the man in anonymity. 

The beautiful stranger is just finishing loosening up the laces of his impressive black stomper boots when he happens to glance up beneath thick lashes, stilling when their eyes meet. Jimin’s heart flutters over being discovered, something inside his tummy doing somersaults, but somehow he forces himself to remain calm, showing no outward reaction. 

It’s not like he’s guilty of anything, after all. He was here first.

The man lets out a surprised breath, his gaze roving over Jimin’s mostly hidden form before a dizzying smile takes over his cupid’s bow lips. 

Fuck he has such a pretty smile—

“I didn’t even see you there,” he admits in a deep, unhurried tone that Jimin compares to syrup, tracking the way he sets his foot back down on the accent rug and rubs a hand over his jaw. “You’re pretty covered up by that blanket.”

“S’cold,” he mumbles, eyes blinking slowly, feeling pleasantly lethargic.

“It is,” the man agrees, looking back towards the windows that line the walls, watching the way the snow obscures the glass with narrowed eyes. “Didn’t expect it to pick up so fast.”

When he turns back to face him, his gaze slides down to the book in Jimin’s hands, a look of contrition passing over his features.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“You’re not,” he rushes to reassure, deciding to introduce himself. “I’m Park Jimin.”

“Jeon Jeongguk,” he responds with another dazzling smile, red hands rubbing together for warmth. 

“Where are you coming from, Jeongguk-ssi?”

“Seoul,” he answers easily. “What about you?”

“Busan.”

The other man whistles under his breath, lips ticking up and a dimple appearing in his cheek, the action causing a strange warmth to curl in Jimin’s belly that has nothing to do with the fire. 

“That’s quite a ways.”

With a wistful smile of his own Jimin candidly reveals, “I love the snow,” fingers pressing into the hot ceramic of his mug when Jeongguk smiles back, a long strand of hair falling over his eyes and making him look both boyish and coy.

“So do I, when it’s not trying to freeze me to death.”

Jimin giggles, hiding behind his hot chocolate while Jeongguk scrunches his nose at him over the sound, reminding him of a bunny. 

A very hot, very tempting bunny.

Get it together, Park—

“Are you here with your family?”

The question catches Jimin a little off guard, and he gives a small shake of his head, noting the way Jeongguk's intrigue seemingly increases as he continues. 

“I just thought—with the holiday and all—”

“I’m escaping the holiday,” Jimin blurts out, wanting nothing more than to shove his foot in his mouth, though that disappears as soon as he sees Jeongguk’s commiserating smile.

“Not a fan of Christmas?”

Jimin’s face morphs into a slight wince when he answers the question with a question of his own. 

“Does it make me a bad person if I say that I’m not?”

“Not at all,” Jeongguk assures, amusement clear in his expression. “I’m not a fan myself.”

“Oh? A fellow grinch?”

Jeongguk snickers before nodding. 

“Guilty. I’m just not really into it.”

“Me either,” Jimin agrees before tentatively asking, “so, you’re not here with your family?”

“Family? No. Just came to get away.”

Jimin nods, strangely giddy at finding someone like-minded, and it doesn’t hurt that he’s extremely handsome— painfully so —or that the sound of his voice alone can make his toes curl—

“How long are you here for?” he wonders in an attempt to focus, hoping he’s not being too forward, but Jeongguk doesn’t seem to mind. 

“I leave Sunday. You?”

“I leave Sunday as well,” he reveals, stomach swooping again.

Something about this feels strangely like serendipity.

Jeongguk gives him a playful smirk as if they share a secret, before his eyes slip down to his hands, red fingers rubbing between the knuckles in a movement that captures Jimin’s attention. 

His fingers are long—

“Maybe I’ll see you around then?”

It might be wishful thinking, but Jimin would almost say he sounds hopeful, which doesn't help sway his rapidly forming crush.

“You might,” he smirks, tone teasing a bit. “I’m usually in this exact spot most nights.”

Jeongguk’s eyes meet him again, those same stars glinting back as if tempting Jimin to wish on them.

A dangerous thing.

“Good to know. I might come down and join you, if that’s alright.”

“Of course,” Jimin beams, trying not to panic when he realizes they’re flirting and holds an arm out as if to encompass the space. “There’s plenty of room.”

They beam at each other until Jimin's cheeks hurt, his gaze roaming in his sudden shyness when they land and fixate on the large analog clock that hangs on the wall, the time reading that it’s nearing one in the morning, eyes widening at the late hour. Exhaustion coupled with his relaxed attitude makes it far more likely that he’s not far off from making a fool of himself, so in a preemptive move to avoid that, he marks his page and closes his book before finishing off his hot chocolate, setting the mug back down on the side table—where he’s been assured an employee will take care of it. Jimin then rises from his chair, the blanket falling away as he lifts his arms up over his head, elongating his body in a stretch and moving to redon his slippers.

"I didn't realize it was so late," he admits, offering up an explanation so he doesn't just leave. "I should get some sleep."

"Yeah," Jeongguk easily agrees, standing as well in order to gather his things with hurried movements. "I should turn in as well."

Jimin's stomach fills with butterflies, and he can't help but feel awkward as he lingers, though the smile that Jeongguk gifts him with when he reaches his side is worth it, the two of them making their way to the elevator in a weighted silence. 

When the doors slide open, Jeongguk motions him in first, following after, pulling out his keycards to glance quickly at them in order to learn his floor number, fingers hovering over the unlit buttons before pressing the one labeled seven.

"Which one are you on?" He asks with an open expression, hand still poised, wanting to be helpful.

"Same one as you," Jimin responds almost breathlessly, the two of them staring at each other as the doors slide shut.

It feels as if Jimin’s insides swoop in a way that has nothing to do with the elevator’s ascent, neither one of them looking away until the doors open again. Jeongguk lets him exit first, eyeing the directory on the wall and turning to follow Jimin in the direction of his room. As he gets closer to his door, Jimin shuffles his book around, digging his keycard out of his back pocket, about to turn and bid Jeongguk goodnight as he carries on—

But he’s stopped in front of the door directly next to Jimin’s own, both of their lips parting when they turn to glance at each other. 

They’re neighbors.

“I haven’t really seen anyone else on this floor,” Jimin stammers, wondering why he feels the need to explain. “Maybe it’s easier for housekeeping if we’re close by.”

“Yeah,” Jeongguk agrees, still sounding a bit out of it. “Yeah, must be.”

Jimin tries to steady the slight tremor in his hand in order to fit his keycard in, giving a relieved sigh as he watches the light turn green—but still he waits, shifting back towards the man he only just met and watching as he does the same, getting his door open but likewise hesitating to go inside. 

Their eyes meet once more, and Jimin’s heart picks up when Jeongguk gives him a warm pretty smile. 

“Goodnight, Jimin-ssi. It was nice meeting you.”

Jimin returns the gesture, that strange weightless sensation in his stomach starting up all over again.

“Likewise, Jeongguk-ssi. Sleep well.”

And with that, the two of them disappear into their rooms, the sounds of their doors clicking shut behind them.

🌨️

Jimin wakes up late with a soft hum, lids heavy, curled up and cocooned in his sleep-warm blankets. When he finally manages to blink the sleep from his eyes and stretch the kinks in his muscles, the digital clock on the end table reads ten past twelve, and he glances out one of his many windows, squinting at the bright sun and slowly falling flakes of snow. It's a pretty afternoon, and for that reason alone he comes to the decision that he’ll walk around the grounds before it gets too dark and too cold, the days shorter here. 

It would’ve been nice to visit the national park as well, though with all the weather warnings it’s inadvisable, unfortunately. But there are several beautiful shrines within walking distance that Jimin also wants to check out, as a few photographs that feature the buildings hang around his room, piquing his interest.

Only, as soon as he steps outside of the lodge's main entrance and experiences the drop in temperature, he wants nothing more than to turn back around again, body shivering when he's hit with a blast of cold air that has him longing for warm blankets and a fire. The only thing stopping him from going inside is all the time it took to get ready, and the fact that he's already here, so he forces himself to bear it and move forward rather than retracing his steps.

Walking down the salted pathways and around the frozen pond, Jimin carefully traverses the bridge that hangs over it, the wood a little icy, muttering to himself while exerting a clenching grip on the rails until he's safely across. The chill bites into the bare skin of his hands, evoking regret over the gloves he forgot to pack, so he shoves them back inside the pockets of his peacoat, the longer strands of his black hair and the newsboy hat that he wears helping to protect his ears while he burrows the lower half of his face into the soft, warm scarf layered over his neck. Probably should’ve brought better shoes than his Chelsea boots, but this was a bit of a spur of the moment decision. If it becomes too hard to maneuver around the terrain he’ll just go back to the lodge. 

When Jimin makes it to the shrine just beyond the bridge, marveling at the exterior architecture as he goes, he spies someone who is already in the open pavilion, quietly admiring the beauty of it as well.

“Oh. Hello,” Jeongguk greets with a pleasant smile when their eyes meet, the apples of his cheeks red to match the tip of his nose, breath escaping in a puff of fog. 

“Good morning," Jimin responds before correcting himself, "Or afternoon, I guess.”

The way that Jeongguk’s smile widens enough to show off his cute bunny teeth isn’t good for his health. 

“Did you sleep well, Jimin-ssi?”

“Too well. Might have to find a way to smuggle my bed home with me.”

The other man chuckles at the horrible joke, shaking his head in amusement when he indulges him. 

“I’m sure no one would notice.”

Jimin grins, climbing up the steps to put them on equal ground, eyes taking in the shrine, though inevitably they’re drawn back to the other. 

“I’m surprised you’re out here after the snow tried to freeze you to death last night.”

Jeongguk snorts, giving a one-shouldered shrug as he looks up towards the sky. 

“It’s calmed down a bit. And I was told this place is really pretty this time of year. Thought I’d check it out before the snow picks up again later.”

“Me too,” Jimin beams, the two of them quiet before Jeongguk breaks the silence with a rushed question.

"When were you born, Jimin-ssi?”

He seems a little embarrassed at the non-sequitur, tripping over his words as he hastily explains.

"Seems like we might see a lot of each other, and I feel a bit strange being so formal."

Jimin tries to ease the other man’s nerves with an understanding smile and an easy answer. 

“I was born in ninety-five. You?”

“Ninety-seven,” he admits, something interesting in his expression that looks almost like a lost opportunity. 

“Guess that makes me the hyung then. Maybe I’ll treat you to some hot chocolate later.”

"Might need one after being out here. Think I’ll go to the convenience store in town and get some hand warmers," Jeongguk grins, his gaze sliding down to the bare hand Jimin has taken out of his pocket in order to relieve the itch on the tip of his cold nose, another smile gracing his shapely lips.

The wind picks up, and the two of them brace themselves against it with a wince, Jimin’s teeth chattering no matter how much he tries to force them still, body trembling, and he immediately shoves his hand back inside his pocket.

“I think this was a bad idea,” he laughs softly, eyes longingly sliding towards the direction of the lodge, the crisp air filling his lungs and causing them to feel tight, breath shortened.

“Did you want to head back?” Jeongguk asks, as if he’s considering doing the same thing, and Jimin nods, pushing his coat’s sleeve down until it covers the entirety of his hand, which comes up this time to try and warm his numb nose.

They move into step beside each other as they make their way out of the shrine, shoulders bumping occasionally, Jeongguk’s body blocking some of the wind while they travel in silence, and Jimin wracks his brain for something— anything— to say.

“Have you ever been here before?” he decides on, turning to watch him nod, that long hair dancing in the wind.

“Twice, actually. The first time I was dragged up here was with a friend. He wanted to ski, but the weather was so bad that that didn't happen. It’s also how I learned this place is fairly deserted this time of year,” he says with a small grin he directs at the ground. “The second time was last December during Christmas as well. Wanted some time to myself and I remembered this place. Now it’s kind of a tradition. You?”

“Same, really,” Jimin answers, delighting in the way the snow crunches under his feet. “Just wanted a quiet place to retreat to, and I learned that this is the hotel’s off-season, so I’ve been coming here for the last couple of years as well. I’m surprised we didn’t see each other.”

“Oh, well, I usually hide up in my room, but this time—”

He looks as if he struggles to swallow when their eyes meet again, Adam's apple bobbing before quickly looking away as he continues to speak. 

"—thought I’d hide out a little less. Take in the sights.”

“Me too. Though I think I’m good off sightseeing after today. It’s far too cold for me.”

“That’s the Busan boy in you,” Jeongguk says with a charming smirk, gently knocking their shoulders together on purpose this time. “I can say that because I grew up there.”

“Did you?” Jimin exclaims, mouth falling open in delight. “I thought I heard a hint of an accent.”

“Moved to Seoul when I was fifteen. Lost it a bit, but sometimes it’s there.”

Jimin beams, accidentally knocking into him again when the unleveled snow makes him unsteady on his feet, Jeongguk's hand gently gripping his arm until he rights himself, and Jimin's breath hitches at the sweet action, distracted once they move to cross the bridge.

It's due to his lack of attention that his foot catches on ice. 

One hand gets stuck in his pocket as he goes to pull it out, the other gripping onto the first thing he can in a bid to stabilize himself—which just so happens to be Jeongguk’s puffer jacket. He loses his balance, forward momentum propelling him even further forward, and everything seems to happen in slow motion. 

He sees it when Jeongguk looks at him, realization dawning over his face, pivoting until they’re chest to chest, both arms wrapping around Jimin's midsection as they go down. 

The younger lands on his back against the snow-covered bridge with a cut-off grunt as Jimin lands on top of him, head pillowed between Jeongguk’s pecs, and even though his ears are ringing everything is far too quiet in the aftermath of their tumble, and if it wasn't for the way he slowly rises and falls with the movement of Jeongguk's chest he would think he killed the poor man.

“I am so sorry,” Jimin immediately apologizes when he regains his senses, barely able to move, their legs tangled up with each other, strong arms cradling his back. “Are you alright?”

“M’fine,” Jeongguk promises, though it comes out sounding like a groan. “Pretty soft landing, just cold. You?”

“You’re warm but hard as a rock,” Jimin mutters, body shaking with what he realizes is Jeongguk’s silent laughter. 

“Not like—not like that,” he tries to explain, which only causes him to become even more flustered when Jeongguk’s amusement gains in volume, feeling his cheeks heat up once he pulls back far enough to look into the man’s mirthful eyes, those stars in them gleaming mischievously as he tongues at his lip ring. 

“I just meant there’s no give to you,” he huffs, poking at the chest he's currently still resting on, and pouting when he hurts his finger in the process.

Slowly, he tries to regain his feet along with his dignity, only to fail when the man below him shifts, and Jimin once again loses balance, those thick arms still secure around his waist, as if Jeongguk hasn’t yet realized that he should let go.

When he does, it’s his turn to be embarrassed.

“Sorry, I—”

A loud rumbling growl echoes between them, their wide eyes gazing at each other, lips parting. 

“Was that your stomach?”

“I’m not sure,” Jimin admits. “I am kind of hungry.”

“Did you know the hotel has a restaurant? It’s got great reviews.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmhmm.”

Jimin places his hands down on the surface of the wooden bridge on either side of Jeongguk’s head, regretting it immediately when the cold digs into his skin, but there's nowhere else to put them now.

“Are you asking me to have lunch with you?”

“Yes,” the younger answers without hesitating, the grin he wears taking on a teasing nature. “You did fall on me, I’d say lunch is a fair trade. Unless of course you’d rather be alone, in which case don’t let me intrude on your vacation.”

Jimin’s cheeks hurt from smiling so much. 

"I think lunch sounds lovely.”

They beam at each other, a soft warmth blossoming in Jimin’s chest that sends its own brand or warning bells through his mind before he shakes himself out of his thoughts. 

This is dangerous.

“I just have to figure out how to get up first,” he murmurs, beaming when the younger man laughs, head thrown back against the snow, exposing his throat to Jimin’s gaze. 

“Here, let me help you,” he says brightly once he finally calms down.

They struggle for a minute, but the two eventually manage to get upright, their hands lingering before they continue back towards the lodge, Jimin heart pounding the entire way.

🌨️

“So, you work for this hotel?”

“Not this hotel in particular,” Jimin clarifies after chewing his food. “More like the actual chain. I help manage the business side of things.”

“Oh wow,” Jeongguk answers with his pretty doe-eyes, wide as he pauses mid-bite. “That’s really impressive.”

It’s hard not to preen under such praise when it’s coming from Jeongguk, his tone exuding sincerity, but Jimin makes a valiant effort, turning the topic of conversation back on him. 

“And you? What do you do?”

“I’m into business as well. Clothing,” he elaborates, “working for a small starter company.”

“Sounds fun, but challenging.”

“It is,” Jeongguk agrees, taking a sip of his drink. “But it’s also very rewarding.”

“I can imagine. And it’s based in Seoul?”

“For now, but we have plans to expand if things go well.”

“How exciting. I hope they do.”

A fondness crosses Jeongguk’s features that takes Jimin’s breath away, and it’s a testament to how much he clearly believes in his work, the two lapsing back into comfortable silence as they continue to eat together.

“Are you a bit warmer now?” Jeongguk wonders, concern laced in his tone that touches Jimin. 

The restaurant doesn’t have a massive fireplace like the lobby does, but it does have a smaller one nearby, the heat of which seeps beneath Jimin’s clothes to effectively chase away the chill.

“I’m a lot warmer, thank you. Don’t think I’ll be doing anymore venturing outside though, if I’m honest.”

“I don’t blame you,” Jeongguk grins. “Sounds like the temperature is just going to keep dropping.”

“You’ll find me bundled up, then. I like the cold, but I don’t like being cold. ”

Jeongguk directs a soft smile his way that morphs into a look of uncertainty, clearly hesitating before beginning to speak again.

“I was planning on going back to the lobby after this. Wanted to enjoy the fire, answer some emails, and I was wondering if you want to join me?”

That’s two instances now where Jeongguk has actively invited him to spend time together, and Jimin feels like he can’t be imagining things. Something is progressing between them.

Something that doesn’t feel strictly platonic.

He should decline. He should say no—

“I’d love to. I owe you a hot chocolate, after all.”

Fuck.

It’s definitely inadvisable to try and pursue anything. The man lives in Seoul, after all, and he’s not a vacation fling or whirlwind romance type of person, but as Jeongguk directs another heartstopping smile his way, Jimin can’t say that he completely regrets it.  

🌨️

Both Jimin and Jeongguk walk to their rooms together, wanting to change and get comfortable. 

Once the door closes behind his own, it’s a mad dash to ditch his peacoat, Jimin throwing on an oversized white pullover with sleeves that go all the way down to the tips of his fingers and black track pants that conform to his body just right and make his ass look amazing. He then critiques his appearance in the mirror, running his hands through the dark strands of his hair until they cooperate, looking just the right amount of disheveled. 

Once Jimin passes his own inspection he calls down to the lobby, ordering two hot chocolates this time with extra marshmallows, and gathers his book and keycards on his way out of his room. 

Jeongguk is already waiting for him in the hall, his features lighting up when their eyes meet. He’s wearing black baggy sweats with an equally baggy long-sleeved black shirt, shoulder-length hair pulled up into a ponytail. 

Someone dressed so casually really shouldn’t look so fucking sexy—

“You ready?”

“Ready,” he beams, sounding far too chipper and breathless, hoping he appears as if nothing is amiss, the two walking side by side back to the elevator.

When they arrive the lobby is warm in a way that makes Jimin drowsy, the wood piled high Inside the hearth, fire blazing, mellow piano over the speakers and two hot chocolates waiting for them on the side table.  

Jimin sits in his usual chair and regrets it immediately, while Jeongguk takes the edge of the sectional right next to him, pulling out his tablet with a look of concentration. He could’ve sat by him, but now Jimin has to mourn the lost opportunity, for it would be far too obvious if he were to get up and switch seats now. He consoles himself by delicately sipping his hot chocolate, grinning when Jeongguk does the same with a pleased hum.

“Good?”

“Oh my god, extremely.”

Jimin chuckles, trying to get lost in his book.

But more often than not, he finds his gaze continuously drawn to the other man, and he takes a risk to study him, cupid’s bow lips silently moving as he types out emails on his tablet, wide, star-filled eyes turned brighter in the light of the screen, narrowed as he works, clearly immersed in it if he has yet to detect Jimin’s obvious stare.

Every time Jeongguk takes a sip of his drink, his eyes get bigger somehow, these little appreciative noises slipping past his lips, and Jimin’s smile progressively widens as he listens to each one, cataloging mmhms , eungs , and eos . Even an aw once or twice. 

How can he be so endearing? 

A flush decorates Jeongguk's cheeks, the fire heating his skin, nose scrunching as he makes a mistake when he types, pink tongue sneaking out across his lips and worrying at the silver ring that adorns it.

He’s—he’s a lot to take in, and Jimin can’t help wondering how his quiet, solitary vacation turned into this.

But he adamantly thanks whoever could be listening that it did. 

🌨️

When the two of them finally head up to bed, still full from the late lunch and the richness of the hot chocolate, they linger at their doors, prolonging their goodbyes, and Jimin pushes his hair behind his ear, watching as Jeongguk obliviously tongues at his lip ring again while he follows the motion, and Jimin quickly rushes inside when the sight brings a familiar ache between his legs. 

🌨️

Jimin wakes up to darkened windows, the clouds outside a deep gray, snow falling at a faster pace than it had yesterday. It leaves him feeling groggy and lethargic, even if he got plenty of sleep, stretching in the hopes that it'll wake him up further, the cold chased away by the humming heater and his impressive pile of blankets, but he can still feel the threat of it, and decides to be lazy and stay in bed.

Until the hotel phone on his night table starts ringing. 

Jimin's eyes narrow as he reaches over and answers it, voice raspy from disuse when he gives a slurred greeting. 

“Hello?”

“Did I wake you?”

“Jeongguk? Is that you?”

“Mmhmm.”

“How are you calling me?”

“I just entered your room number and hoped for the best. But if you were sleeping I’ll—

“I wasn’t sleeping,” Jimin rushes to reassure, wiping at his eyes while he sits up, hoping to sound a little less out of it. “What’s up?”

Jeongguk suddenly seems unsure of himself when he speaks again. 

“I was just—well, I’m going down to the indoor swimming pool. It’s heated. And there’s a hot tub. If you didn’t have any plans I thought I’d see if you wanted to join me.”

Jimin eyes his bed, the decision an easy one.

“Let me get ready. I’ll meet you down there in ten minutes.”

He can practically hear Jeongguk’s smile over the phone. 

“Sounds good. See you there.”

Jimin hangs up and sits completely motionless for a minute, contemplating what exactly he's getting himself into before jumping up to get ready, washing the sleep from his face and brushing his teeth. He actually did bring swim trunks, even though he was on the fence about using them, but he’s glad that he did now. 

There's a sense of ridiculousness that fills him when he puts on his swimsuit and then a pair of sweatpants and a long sleeve shirt over top of it, but he’d rather feel ridiculous than freeze all the way down to the indoor swimming pool, deciding on bringing both a towel and a robe, not looking forward to being wet in this weather, or having to get dry—

But since Jeongguk asked, he’s going. 

Not even two full days into knowing him and Jeongguk already has Jimin wrapped around his long, nimble fingers.

Tragic.

When he opens the glass door to the pool, there’s already a lean, muscular figure cutting a smooth line through the water as he does laps, and Jimin takes his chance to openly gape at Jeongguk, powerful arms and legs propelling him forward in a motion that appears so effortless, but Jimin knows requires strength to carry out. 

The full sleeve of his tattoos is on display, ink vibrant under the drops that cling to his skin. Jimin wants to spend hours admiring every single piece, take in the colors and the shading, all the miniscule details until he can trace them with his eyes closed and thats—

Fuck .

He really needs to get his shit together. 

When Jeongguk comes up for air, Jimin still stands in the exact same spot, watching as he wipes the water from his eyes, giving his head a shake, smoothing back the dripping strands of his long hair, and Jimin is certain he’s never seen anyone more beautiful—

“Oh, hey hyung,” Jeongguk greets with a radiant smile, water trickling across the contours of his bare skin, and that's his torso rippling beneath the distorted image of the unsettled water. “You can set your stuff down on any chair. We're the only ones here."

"That makes sense," Jimin calls, eyes sliding over to the floor to ceiling windows that showcase the snow-covered outer courtyard of the lodge, the room somewhat humid but feeling as if it has a draft. "It's kind of cold in here."

"The water’s really warm, though,” Jeongguk assures with those wide, pretty eyes, and Jimin feels trapped in them.

He's not going to survive this vacation. He just knows it.

Jimin buys time by carefully placing his robe and towel down, only just managing to ignore the urge to fold both, and instead slides his fingers to the waistband of his sweats, feeling self-conscious when it comes time to remove his clothes. He does so unintentionally slowly, the fabric slipping down his legs at his gentle urging, creating goosebumps over every stretch of skin that’s bared. Carefully, so as not to lose his balance, he kicks out of them when they drop to his ankles, bending forward to pick them up and place them on the chair next to his towel and robe. 

It’s difficult to avoid Jeongguk’s stare as he can practically feel it like a physical thing, caressing over what he’s revealed of his body as a lover would, and Jimin’s lashes flutter, arms crossing over his chest in order to reveal even more, fingers gripping onto the hem of his shirt and tugging it up, up, up, the whole experience feeling strangely erotic for something so simple. 

Divested of everything but his swimsuit, Jimin wades into the water, crossing his arms over his hardened nipples and shivering while his body temperature tries to adjust. Jeongguk was right, the pool is warm, but the surrounding air is not, so he sinks down until water comes up to his throat, which succeeds in chasing away the chill as well as hiding him from view, and only then does he allow his eyes to slide over and meet Jeongguk’s stare; which has been fixed on him since the beginning, the two gazing at each other with only the sounds of the lapping water to fill the quiet. 

Jeongguk’s cheeks are flushed, and tellingly enough, he looks caught out and nervous, when moments before he seemed perfectly fine.

“You okay?” Jimin asks, watching as he snaps out of his slightly dazed expression. 

“Me? Yeah, um—I’m fine,” he assures, the palm of his hands slapping at the surface of the water, drawing his gaze so they no longer look at each other. “What about you, are you okay? Water warm enough?”

“Might move to the hot tub sooner than I thought, but it’s alright,” Jimin reassures, eyes zeroing in on the way Jeongguk is tonguing at his lip ring again in what is clearly a habit.

This isn’t fair, he’s definitely not strong enough—

“Maybe if you move around a bit more you’ll warm up faster,” Jeongguk suggests with his earnest, pretty doe-eyes and this eagerness about him to be helpful that Jimin is entirely taken with, but still he can’t help but tease, wanting nothing more than to lighten the heavy atmosphere.

“Move around? That’s a terrible idea.”

It has the desired effect, Jeongguk throws his head back and laughs, water drenching his hair even more, droplets flying everywhere when he rights himself, reaching out for Jimin as if he’s done so a million times. 

“Come on, hyung. Swim with me.”

Jimin tries to back away and evade, shaking his head.

“Absolutely not. I’m just going to float here—”

But Jeongguk’s hands are already grabbing onto his crossed arms, and Jimin whines as he allows them to be pulled away from his chest as he’s coaxed deeper into the water, those palms sliding down to his own hands, Jimin's legs moving in order to stay afloat, breath hitching when fingers interlace with his own. 

“Why don’t we do some laps?”

At Jimin’s withering stare, Jeongguk laughs again, a louder, higher-pitched sound than his speaking voice, but one that Jimin is just as taken with.

“I think I need to get out. I ate before I came here and now I have a cramp.”

“That’s an old wive’s tale you know?”

“Are you calling my cramp a fabrication?”

“Of course not, I’m sure it’s very real, but you know what the best way to get rid of a cramp is?”

“Lie down and cry?”

“No,” Jeongguk snorts, pulling Jimin further into the deep end. “It’s to move and stretch.”

“That sounds fake,” Jimin pouts, though he doesn’t resist when Jeongguk pulls him in even closer, the humidity of their shared breath fanning over his cheeks, practically jumping out of his skin when Jeongguk’s legs accidentally tangle with his own as they tread water.

Slowly, as if he regrets it already, the younger finally releases his hands, and the two practically mirror each other as their arms cut through the water, working their bodies to remain afloat, Jeongguk sinking slightly when he speaks next. 

“Now that you’re moving I bet you feel warmer already.”

There’s a breathy quality to his voice, a kind of affectedness that Jimin can’t help but wonder if he’s imagining or not, watching the way Jeongguk sinks his teeth into his fuller bottom lip, like he’s afraid something is on the verge of escaping. 

Again their legs make contact, inner thighs sliding against outer thighs, and Jimin hears the unsubtle way in which he gasps, wanting to mewl over the heat that curls in his belly—

“I’m a lot warmer,” he concedes, not at all sounding like himself, and when Jeongguk’s eyes sink to his lips—tracking the way his tongue traces the shape of them—Jimin takes in a rushed breath and holds it, submerging himself completely beneath the water.

Which is a horrible idea. 

He comes face to face with Jeongguk’s bare chest, and more importantly, his nipples. 

Who knew your mouth could water underwater. 

They’re a dusky rose color, hardened atop the pronounced muscles of his pecs, and so fucking captivating that Jimin can't look away, and he forgets he needs to breathe—

He comes back up sputtering, nose burning from the accidental inhale he took when his lungs started to burn, and when Jimin manages to unclench his lids, Jeongguk is staring at him with those wide doe-eyes, concern written in his features as he coughs. 

Strong hands pound at his back to try and help him breathe, the bare skin of their chests rubbing against each other, Jimin wheezing even more when their nipples align and his dick twitches in his trunks—

Fuck.

He pulls away as if he’s been burned, a hand coming up in what he hopes is a reassuring gesture, trying to muster a small smile on his face when he promises, “I’m okay. I’m fine.”

Though he sounds like someone rubbed his throat raw with sandpaper when he makes that particular claim.

Jeongguk nods, taking his word for it, but the look he gives is still one of apprehension and concern. 

“Maybe we should move to the hot tub,” he suggests, and Jimin thinks now would be a good time for the earth to open up and swallow him.

🌨️

Jimin doesn’t end up leaving the pool with the feeling that he completely ruined things between them, and he attests that to Jeongguk’s sweetness, the younger continuously checking on him to make sure he was okay after nearly drowning himself. 

He does leave exhausted though, having a penchant for always becoming drowsy after swimming, the chemicals in the water making his eyes ache. When he gets back to his room he takes a hot shower and then sleeps until dinner, ordering up room service and letting the TV play on a variety show that’s mildly entertaining. 

There’s a snowstorm outside, and he eyes the book on his table, the phone not too far off, giving in to what he wants with a sigh even if he can’t help but fear rejection. So far it’s been the younger one inviting him, so Jimin knows this is long overdue. 

Jeongguk picks up after the second ring. 

“Hello?”

“Hi…it’s me,” he greets, wanting to kick himself over how pathetic he’s sure he sounds, but Jeongguk doesn’t seem to think so, if his excited tone is anything to go by. 

“Hey, Jiminie hyung. What’s up?”

“I was thinking about heading down to the lobby. Just seeing if you wanted to join me?”

The question comes out a bit rushed and far too eager, Jimin practically wincing while he waits, and after what feels like a stretch of minutes—but what he knows are actually seconds—Jeongguk gives his answer. 

“Can you order another one of those hot chocolates for me?”

Relief floods him like a crushing wave.

“Of course,” Jimin assures, cheeks hurting from how wide he’s smiling, filled with a rare elation that has him giddy.

He really is in trouble now.  

🌨️

This time when Jimin and Jeongguk enter the lobby, he sits next to the younger man on the large sectional, trying not to blush when he's gifted with a wide smile, Jeongguk throwing a large fluffy blanket over the both of them to share as they settle in with their choice of distraction, the words of Jimin's book swimming in his vision.

He's still tired, a list of reasons to blame for his perpetual exhaustion with winter at the very top, the cold and shortened days wreaking havoc on his system. His eyes continue to burn as well, the chlorine making them itchy, and no matter how much he rubs at them it doesn't help, the only relief granted when he actually allows them to slip closed.

“Are you falling asleep on me?” a whisper asks near his ear, and Jimin’s lips turn up in amusement. 

“No,” he whispers back. “Just resting my eyes.”

“That’s usually what people who are falling asleep say.”

“Is it?” he wonders with an interested hum. “Have many people fallen asleep on you before?”

"Not many, no."

"Then trust me, I'm just resting my eyes."

"You haven't even touched your hot chocolate, hyung. Your marshmallows are gonna get all soggy."

"I'm just letting it cool off Jeongguk-ah," Jimin slurs, sounding so out of it that even he doesn't believe what he's saying. 

"Of course. But what should I do if you actually fall asleep?"

Jimin hums at the question before murmuring, "Just don't leave me here."

Beside him Jeongguk radiates warmth, and as Jimin drifts he swears he feels fingers card through his hair.

"I won't."

🌨

“—imin? Jimin?”

He rouses from that soft voice and what feels like fingertips tracing along the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezing shut at the tickling sensation before shaking his head, and stubbornly burrows into the warmth beneath him. 

Jeongguk’s voice comes out as a squeak then, body tensing in response.

“Jimin?”

And he’s awake just enough to realize the younger has forgone honorifics, eyes blinking open in a bid to find out what has him so affected. 

Confusion and disorientation alike fills Jimin when he takes in his surroundings, his gaze finally settling on Jeongguk above him, curled over his form—

Somehow, he managed to burrow into the younger's lap, head cradled against a thick thigh, the fingers of one hand periodically digging into the muscle.

“How—”

“You move around a lot in your sleep,” Jeongguk answers, eyes even wider than normal, his breath a stuttery thing.

Jimin immediately removes his hand and places it instead on the back of the couch, using his grip to help lift himself up and away from the other, a familiar heat in his cheeks as he gives an apology.

“Sorry Jeongguk-ah. If I made you uncomfortable I—”

“I wasn’t uncomfortable,” he interrupts, stumbling over his words in a rush to get that out. When they turn to look at each other, the galaxy that lives inside Jeongguk’s eyes shines brightly, voice soft when he speaks next. “It’s just, it’s late. I thought you’d be more comfortable in your bed.”

Jimin gives him what he hopes is a grateful smile, groaning when he stretches and pops his neck, taking the time to try and wake up a little more, overestimating himself once he gains his feet, only to nearly fall back down again. But Jeongguk is already next to him, tablet secure under one arm while the other steadies Jimin in order to keep him upright.

“You okay?”

With a reassuring nod Jimin gives him another smile. 

“Still out of it,” he mumbles, going willingly when the younger pulls him into his body, leaning down to both pick up and hand Jimin his book, arm wrapping around his shoulders as soon as he takes it.

Together they cross the lobby and to the elevator, Jimin pressing the number for floor seven, the two quiet as they begin their ascent. Every now and then, it feels as if Jeongguk’s fingers grip onto him tighter, and each time they do, Jimin swears his heart flutters along with his lashes, the physical contact causing his stomach to swoop as if he’s been touch-starved, desiring nothing more than to bury his head in the younger man’s lap again, and—

Fuck he needs to stop thinking this way.

It’s only when Jeongguk stills in front of Jimin’s door that he finally lets him go, expression pinched, hands tangling in the hem of his shirt as if he needs something else to hold onto, and Jimin fumbles with the keycard he pulls out of his back pocket before he finally gets it free and slides it into the door. The light turns green, lock sliding, and Jimin opens up his room before turning back to the other. 

“Thank you, Jeongguk-ah. Sorry I was horrible company—”

“No, not at all,” he's quick to reassure, eyes bright like a beacon to draw Jimin in, and he heeds that call, leaning forward, watching the way that Jeongguk tracks the movement, his gaze dropping down to Jimin's lips as they inch closer and closer—

Jimin’s book falls from his limp hand, the sound jolting both of them out of…whatever it was they nearly found themselves in, and before he can bend down to pick it up, Jeongguk is already doing so, dusting off the cover before handing it back to him with a sheepish smile. 

“Thank you,” he says again, though this time in a kind of numb daze.

“Goodnight, Jimin hyung,” Jeongguk murmurs, with something that looks akin to regret in his gaze.

“Goodnight Jeongguk-ah.”

He forces himself to enter his lonely room, refusing to look back. 

Jimin knows that if he does, the likelihood of him being able to shut the door on the younger is practically non-existent. 

🌨

It isn’t until early the next evening that Jimin hears from Jeongguk again, unable to help the rampant nerves that run through him, sure that their almost-kiss the previous night ruined whatever had been building between them, platonic or not. 

But when Jeongguk calls just after five, sounding as unsure as Jimin feels when he asks, “Did you know this place has a bowling alley would you like to go bowling with me,” all in one long rushed sentence, Jimin can’t help but feel more at ease, and he wants to put the younger at ease as well. 

“I’d love to.”

Dressing in comfortable jeans that conform flatteringly to his legs, and another loose sweater—dark gray this time—Jimin styles his hair, slips into his Chelsea boots and makes his way to the bowling alley. Jeongguk is already outside waiting for him, staring off into space with his wide, pretty eyes while tonguing at his lip ring. 

“Hi,” Jimin greets, trying not to sound awkward, and Jeongguk immediately animates, beaming as he takes him in. 

“You look nice—” but then he shakes his head as if he’s said something wrong, “—I mean, you always look nice, but you…I like your sweater.”

Jimin looks down with a shy smile, fingers tracing over the soft material of it. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. “You look really nice as well.”

He’s wearing form-fitting black jeans, tighter than what Jimin is used to seeing him wear, the man clearly preferring loose, comfortable clothing, and he’s coupled it with a high-necked black shirt and a fluffy black jacket, his boots coming up mid-calf. 

He looks like a fucking wet dream. 

“Thank you,” Jeongguk grins, cheeks slightly flushed before motioning behind him. “Wanna go in?”

Jimin nods and follows, expressing his gratitude when Jeongguk holds the door open for him. 

The bowling alley is loud, despite there barely being anyone on the lanes, the echo of the ball hitting the floor and the pins falling over bounces around the cavernous space, but it also has an elevated bar with a couple of pool tables that's a bit separated.

“Do you want to get some drinks first?” Jeongguk practically yells to be heard, and Jimin nods eagerly, experiencing a rush of relief. 

Maybe if he has some liquid courage he wouldn’t second-guess himself so much. 

Or he’ll end up doing something he regrets. There isn’t much of an inbetween. 

Jeongguk orders a bottle of soju, the bartender providing them glasses, the shot that's poured for him going down cold but warming his tummy in no time. Jimin giggles when Jeongguk makes a face as he takes his own, nose scrunching up and giving a full body shiver.

“Don’t like it?”

“No, it’s really good,” Jeongguk responds, making Jimin’s smile widen, unsettlingly captivated by his mannerisms, his personality. 

Jeongguk then inclines his head towards one of the pool tables, curiously asking, “Do you play?”

Jimin eyes it as well with a snort, shaking his head as he turns back to face the other. 

“You don’t want to play me.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ll lose.”

“Oh? Trash-talking now, are you?”

Again Jimin shakes his head.

“I’m just being honest.”

“Alright,” Jeongguk huffs, faux-indignantly slamming his fist on the counter, his cute bunny smile ruining it. “I challenge you to a game.”

Jimin’s cheeks hurt, a laugh leaving him as he shakes his head. 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

🌨️

Ten minutes later and Jeongguk’s sulking cutely near the far corner of the table, unintentionally distracting Jimin with his pout.

“You could’ve warned me,” he mutters as Jimin tries to line up his shot for the eight ball. 

“What part of, ‘you don’t want to play me you’re gonna lose,’ isn’t a warning?”

“Yeah, but everyone probably says that. And you failed to tell me you’re practically a pro at this.”

Jimin shakes in quiet amusement, huffing when it makes him skim the cue ball, which barely rolls an inch before stilling, but it counts. 

“Stop making me laugh,” he complains, moving away so that Jeongguk can take his turn. “I can’t see very well when I laugh.”

Jeongguk grins at the information, and gets into position, hitting a striped ball into the middle pocket, but missing on his second try with four other balls still on the table that he needs to sink before being where Jimin is. 

“Nice shot on the first one.”

“Thank you.”

"Not so much the second."

"Cheeky."

Jimin lines up for the eight ball again, only it’s at an awkward angle, and after multiple shots of soju he has no qualms about hopping up onto the table, nearly kneeling onto the green felt as he aims.

“Hey, aren’t there rules against this?” Jeongguk demands, sounding a bit breathless to Jimin’s ears rather than upset, but he shrugs at the inquiry. 

“You want to end the game, or no?”

Jeongguk gives in and sighs, motioning for him to continue, the mirth in his expression giving him away. 

Jimin takes the shot. 

The eight ball goes in. 

“I—”

“Don’t say I told you so,” Jeongguk warns with a very stern finger and the cutest indignation. 

“I wasn’t going to,” Jimin lies, feigning innocence barely able to hold his composure as he climbs off the table. “I was gonna say good game.”

Jeongguk snorts, reaching out for Jimin’s pool cue in order to hang them back up on the wall before returning. 

“Are you any good at bowling?”

“I’m decent,” Jimin answers honestly. “You?”

“You’re gonna lose,” Jeongguk smirks.

🌨️

Jimin does, in fact, lose at bowling. Not once. But twice.  

But he’s a good sport about it. 

“This game is rigged.”

Jeongguk throws his head back and laughs, the soju bottle empty on the small table next to his seat, his nose and cheeks rosy, the black fluffy jacket he came in long since been discarded. He clearly has less of a tolerance than Jimin, but even he’s starting to feel the effects of the alcohol, most noticeably in the way that he keeps reaching out for the other, forgetting his usual reservations and finding every excuse to initiate physical contact, Jeongguk receptive and even doing the same. 

But they’re both kind of drunk. Jimin needs to remember to keep his hands to himself. 

So far, sitting on them hasn’t been much of a deterrent, but his fingers are numb, so there’s that.

“Should we go?”

“Tired of losing?”

“We can play pool again if you need to be humbled,” Jimin fires back, unable help but join in when Jeongguk laughs again, the younger gaining his feet with a big stretch, grabbing his jacket and wrapping it around one arm while the other reaches out towards Jimin in offering. 

Don’t take it, his mind whispers. Distance, establish distance—

But everything goes quiet when Jimin’s palm connects with his, their fingers intertwining. Carefully, he’s pulled to stand, the distance between them his inner voice had been begging for practically non-existent. 

Jimin watches as Jeongguk’s eyes slide down to his lips, his own doing the same when he tongues at his lip ring again. 

If he could just take it into his mouth, worry it a little—

“We should—we should go. Maybe eat something.”

“Right. Yeah,” Jeongguk murmurs, his gaze taking in their surroundings as he steps away, the two of them exiting the bowling alley. 

There’s a small built-in stall that neighbors it where they both order gungoguma, the fried food helping to better settle Jimin’s stomach, even as he still feels hazy around the edges, the two of them tossing their skewers once they're finished in a nearby trash can that rests next to one of the exits of the hotel, the glass door showing the view. 

“It’s really pretty out there,” Jeongguk sighs, staring up at the way the snow falls.

“It is,” Jimin agrees, the area lit up by the full moon. 

Jeongguk looks down at him with a mischievous grin, and Jimin desperately tries to ignore the way his blood heats, heart pumping faster. 

“Wanna go outside for a minute?” 

“And freeze to death? No thanks.”

“Just for a minute.”

Jimin tries to think logically, but the alcohol keeps telling him there's no real harm in it, so the best he comes up with is, “I don’t have a jacket.”

“We’ll share mine,” Jeongguk decides, as if it’s an obvious solution. 

It isn’t, but Jimin goes along with it, unable to help but giggle hysterically as they fit together, his back to Jeongguk’s chest, arms wrapping around his own torso as Jeongguk engulfs him in the large coat and zips them up, their bodies flush. 

This definitely is allowing for distance between them. 

The logical part of his brain is gonna be mad when it can function again. 

Jeongguk opens the door, Jimin immediately regretting his life choices when he’s run through with cold air, snow melting on his cheeks as they pitifully shuffle outside, the two of them laughing again over how ridiculous this whole idea was. 

They settle less than three feet away from the door, a shiver running through Jimin’s form, visibility nonexistent.

“Okay, let’s go back inside now,” he stutters, teeth chattering as he feels Jeongguk chuckle against him, moving his arms so he can wrap them around Jimin’s midsection in a hug, swaying them from side to side. 

“You can see the stars.”

“That’s the snow, you can’t see anything in this,” he laughs, swearing he can envision the way Jeongguk pouts, even if they’re not facing each other. 

“I think I need glasses. Where are the stars then?”

“In your eyes,” Jimin drunkenly answers, embarrassed enough to want to unzip the jacket and walk out into the snow, never to return.

But Jeongguk releases a deep sigh, and then it feels as if he burrows into the back of Jimin's neck, arms tightening around him when he hums. 

“The moon is in yours when you laugh. Little upside down crescents. Did you know?”

Jimin shakes his head, even if he’s heard it before, albeit less poetically, and Jeongguk keeps gently swaying them as he looks back up, the two watching the flakes drift to the ground. 

“There’s something kind of magical about snow.”

Jimin gives an absent noise of agreement, a confession slipping from his lips that he wouldn’t readily admit to in any other circumstances. 

“It might be silly, but I want to see the first snow with the person I spend the rest of my life with.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I don’t want to plan it, or anything. Like—well some people look up the weather and wait for it, but I,” Jimin takes a deep breath, the cold air making his lungs ache. “I want it to just…happen. To say it was destiny. Fall in love and be together forever.”

“I don’t think that’s silly at all,” Jeongguk whispers near his ear, the quiet engulfing them, and Jimin allows himself to lean further into his chest, willing to bear the discomfort of the freezing temperatures to remain in his arms for as long as he can. 

But all good things must come to an end. 

They shuffle back inside, Jimin awkwardly removing himself from Jeongguk’s coat before the younger just takes it off completely and hands it to him. 

“Here, you wear it for now, you’re still shivering.”

“But what about you?”

“I’ll be fine. I run hot,” he grins, the dimple in his cheek bad for Jimin’s health.

With Jeongguk’s help, Jimin gets the jacket on, warm on smelling like fresh linen, Jeongguk’s normal scent, and he barely stops himself from burrowing into it. 

They seem to silently come to the decision to head back up to their rooms, both of them unsteady on their feet, eyes drooping. Jimin trails after Jeongguk to the door of his room, watching as he tries to find his keycard in his pant’s pockets before making a noise of realization. 

Without a word, he trips his way into Jimin’s space, crowding him against the wall while a hand slides into the left jacket pocket, Jimin’s breath hitching when their noses nearly brush. 

Jeongguk’s eyes fly to his, those stars flaring in widened shock as he seems to realize what he’s doing, the heat of his breath fanning over Jimin’s own lips when he huskily explains. 

“I—my card is in my jacket.”

“Of course.” Jimin swallows, Jeongguk staying perfectly still, only his eyes moving while Jimin chokes, “Did you find it?”

“Find what?”

He tongues at his lip ring again while gazing at Jimin’s mouth, completely transfixed.

“Your keycard,” he clarifies in a barely-there voice, feeling the way the hand in the pocket of the coat he’s wearing spasms before slowly pulling back out again. 

“I…I think it’s in the other pocket.”

“Okay,” Jimin whispers, making no move to check it himself, and silently granted permission, Jeongguk takes in a shuddering breath as he slips his hand into the right pocket this time, removing it to reveal the card. 

“Got it,” he says unnecessarily, and Jimin tries to recollect himself as he watches the other man struggle with the door. 

They both stumble their way inside, Jimin telling himself he just wants to make sure that Jeongguk is okay, maybe get him a glass of water, that kind of thing, and as he follows him into the bedroom, Jimin hangs back in the doorway, observing as Jeongguk collapses down onto his bed, not even bothering to take off his shoes. 

Come to think of it, his shoes are still on as well. 

“So many laces,” the younger grumbles, eyes closed as he half-heartedly reaches for his boots. 

“Here,” Jimin offers, “I’ll help you.”

He can hardly see straight, but somehow he thinks he can remove Jeongguk’s shoes?

Funny.

Kneeling down next to the bed, Jimin takes one boot-clad foot in hand and begins working the knots free, loosening just the laces and stepping back as Jeongguk toes them off, the boots making a loud clomping sound as they impact with the ground, Jeongguk rolling onto his side with his eyes still closed, hands curled up near his cheek. 

“I’m gonna get you some water, okay?”

“‘Kay.”

Jimin goes to the fridge in the kitchenette, grabbing a bottle and tripping his way back to the bedroom, placing it as quietly as he can on the nightstand next to Jeongguk. 

Before he can turn to leave, he hears a tiny whisper admit, “I almost kissed you yesterday. Almost kissed you tonight, too.”

Jimin stands there with his mouth open, unsure as to what to say, Jeongguk appearing more asleep than awake while his lips smack, adding a slurred, “I wanted to. Still want to.”

Jimin leaves quietly afterwards, Jeongguk letting out tiny snores as he goes, sure the younger won’t remember this tomorrow. 

But Jimin will. 

Jimin doubts he’ll ever forget it.

🌨️

Wakefulness comes slowly, and several instances occur in which Jimin eyes slip open only to close again, allowing sleep to reclaim him, the bed too comfortable, blankets warm. 

It isn’t until he rolls over onto his side, eyes taking in the blurry numbers of the digital clock on the bedside table that he decides to stay awake, the time reading just past eleven. 

Forcing himself up and onto his feet, Jimin takes something for his headache, drinks an entire bottle of water and orders a late breakfast from room service, having a shower while he waits. He brushes his teeth, and washes his face under the spray, deciding to let his hair air dry rather than bother with the blow dryer, allowing himself to be lazy. 

He eats hotteok, watching another variety show as he does, working up the nerve to call Jeongguk. 

After I’m finished eating, he tells himself, dragging it out because he’s suddenly beyond nervous after last night and the one before that, reliving the other's whispered confession in his head, along with the almost-kiss he referenced, sometimes convincing himself that he imagined it all.

When he’s finally cleared his plate and the variety show has long since ended, Jimin picks up the phone with frazzled nerves and punches in Jeongguk’s room number.

. . .

No answer. 

Jimin hangs up as if he’s afraid of being caught doing something wrong, staring at the dark plastic like he’s waiting for it to ring.

It doesn’t. 

Oh, well…at least I tried. 

Outside the snow falls slowly, nothing but an endless stretch of white, and Jimin sinks back down into his pillows, trying not to be filled with disappointment over an unanswered phone call. 

He’s on vacation, damn it. He’s supposed to be enjoying himself.

🌨

Jimin hears when a door in the hall closes, the sound cutting through the drama he’s currently watching, the interior insulation in this place leaving much to be desired as he listens to what has to be Jeongguk’s footsteps, and he imagines the younger man wearing those heavy black stomper boots he seems to favor. 

Maybe he went out into town, and that’s why he was out of his room for a while. 

Jimin tries to forget about it, focusing on his drama once more, even though he’s too far behind in the plot to be overly invested and has no idea what’s going on. 

But it isn’t long until he hears what seems to be rhythmic thumping? Which is eventually joined by labored breathing and the occasional groan.

It—it sounds like—

“Ahhhhh.”

The low drawn out noise seeps through the walls, and Jimin’s eyes go wide, lips parting when his mouth goes dry.

It sounds like he’s fucking someone in there.

Jimin’s heart sinks, something painful making his gut clench that he absolutely hates for how ridiculous it makes him feel. He hasn’t even known the man for a week, he shouldn’t even care —

But he does. That’s the worst part. 

Jimin sits on his bed, motionless at first, unsure if he should turn up the volume on his show—or would that be too obvious? But he can’t do nothing, can he? Can’t listen to the noises coming out of that room and allow them to torture him like blunt knives against skin.

Then again, if he isn't with anyone and he's alone in there…what is he doing to himself?

He’s up before he even fully realizes what he’s doing, the door to his own room opening as he walks the short distance to Jeongguk’s, knocking on the veneer surface with a little too much force before ringing the bell instead.

“One second,” he hears from the other side, muffled noises reaching him before the sound of footsteps, and finally the lock sliding free.

Jeongguk answers in nothing but a loose pair of gym shorts that look as if they were haphazardly thrown on, the waistband so low Jimin feels as if he's two seconds away from a dickslip, a dick that is very much pronounced beneath the gray, sweatpant-like material to the point where Jimin can't help but wonder if he bothered to put on anything underneath. 

But that quickly devolves into him just staring at the silhouette of his cock like a creep, and good gracious, look at the size of him!

Jimin's mouth goes dry, and with a choking cough he forces his gaze up—which isn't any better if he's honest—Jeongguk's bare chest glistening like the rest of his skin from the perspiration that decorates his body in a fine sheen—

"Oh, Jimin hyung. How are you feeling? Is something wrong?"

"I was—" Jimin immediately cuts himself off, mortified by how high-pitched his voice comes out, and he clears his throat as surreptitiously as he can before trying again. "I just wanted to ask if…you could turn your TV down," he decides on at the last second, thinking it's probably more acceptable to say than can you stop having sex so loud.

But Jeongguk's brow creases, clearly not getting his attempt at subtlety.

"I don't have the TV on."

"Oh," Jimin replies, feeling ridiculous as he stands there, tugging at his own fingers in a nervous habit and wishing Jeongguk would just get it. "Then maybe you could tell your guest to, um, keep it down a bit?"

"Guest?" he asks, clearly even more lost as he shakes his head. “I don’t have a guest. It’s just me in here.”

Christ, he is fucking himself, isn't he?

Jimin’s cheeks heat over the visual, barely registering it when Jeongguk rushes to explain, motioning behind him.

"I'm working out. Didn't realize I was being so loud, but I can tone it down."

Wait, what?

"You're—you're working out?"

As soon as he nods Jimin further embarrasses himself by bursting into laughter, Jeongguk's confusion mounting.

Damn, he’s probably scaring the poor guy.

"Sorry," Jimin practically wheezes, attempting to physically wave away his amusement and offer some form of explanation at the same time. "I thought—well, nevermind."

But by now Jeongguk is suspicious, like a bloodhound picking up the scent. 

"No, what did you think?"

Jimin's cheeks burn, and he knows he's as red as a tomato while Jeongguk takes in his flush, suspicion and breathiness alike taking over his voice when he asks, "What did you think I was doing, Jimin?"

The lack of honorifics catches him by surprise, throwing off what little confidence he managed to rig together as the other stares at him with an intensity Jimin has never before seen.

"I—"

Jeongguk gets closer, spilling out of his entryway with all of that bare skin and defined muscle, a terrible distraction as he leans against the frame of his door with a confident smirk that makes the stars in his eyes turn into burning supernovas.

"You thought I was fucking someone else in here," he says, brazen and crude, and the attitude goes straight to Jimin's cock over how smug he appears, smile widening to show teeth. “Didn’t you?”

Someone else? As opposed to who?

He’s—this side of him is new. 

Maybe it's the post hangover.

"You—you said you were alone," Jimin murmurs as if that’s any kind of response to the question, clearly affected, and it's easy to see that Jeongguk picks up on it.

"I did. So what did you think after I cleared that up? That I was fucking myself in here?"

"I…yes," he answers honestly, breath hitching when Jeongguk’s eyes travel the length of his body, and Jimin wishes he wasn’t dressed so boring, but the way the younger man looks at him makes him feel anything but.

"So you decided to knock on my door anyway, even as you imagined me getting off on the other side? Is that what happened, Jimin?”

A small part of him wants to deny it, but an even bigger part wants to raise a brow at Jeongguk and demand, And? What of it?

But instead he just nods, a small, barely there whine leaving him when Jeongguk moves away from the safety of his door, and Jimin reaches out for him just as Jeongguk pulls him in by the waistband of his sweats until they collide, lips meeting in a gentle, tentative touch, Jimin’s mouth opening for the other, tongue curling against Jeongguk’s shapely top lip in a bid to explore him. 

What is he getting himself into?

Hands frame his face, those long fingers that Jimin has found himself admiring on more than one occasion slipping into the dark strands of his hair, using his grip to tilt his head and deepen the kiss, Jeongguk’s teeth sinking into Jimin’s plump bottom lip, worrying the flesh until it feels swollen and tingly and he can’t help but moan into the mouth that slants over his own.

Jeongguk pulls back, but only slightly, the warmth of his breath fanning over Jimin’s cheeks as he seemingly attempts to gather himself, the air humid and shared between them.

“I’ve wanted to do that…since the moment I saw you,” the younger confesses in a husky tone that sends shivers down Jimin’s spine, causing his toes to curl. 

“Yeah?” 

Their lips brush with every word, noses bumping sweetly when Jeongguk nods, wearing an affectionate smile that makes Jimin want more than what’s on offer. 

“Yeah,” he sighs into his mouth, and when they come back together it’s the most natural thing, and Jimin feels as if he’s been kissing Jeongguk for years, the other man already made privy to the way he likes to be touched, the way he trembles when he rubs their lips together in an almost innocent, feather-light motion that turns more intimate when it’s followed by a tongue tracing the seams, coaxing Jimin’s mouth open with a thumb pressed to his chin, and he welcomes him inside with a small sigh, lids fluttering until his lashes tickle the tops of his cheeks, Jeongguk’s other hand sweeping through his hair like the wind.

He’s never been kissed like this before. Never had a partner that took the time to do so just for kissing’s sake, the act of sex a kind of rushed thing in the search to get off. 

Kissing has always been left by the wayside in pursuit of an orgasm, but with Jeongguk—a tongue slips inside Jimin’s mouth, licking over the roof as if learning the shape of him—with Jeongguk kissing feels like a necessity.

“We don’t have to,” the other breathes against his burning lips, chills erupting across Jimin’s skin, “but do you want to—”

“God yes.”

He’s pulled even further into Jeongguk when their lips collide again after his answer, feet shuffling blindly, following when the other man steps back into the room, the door clicking shut behind them. Jimin’s back is pressed into a wall, a firm body caging him in until escape feels unlikely.

As if Jimin would ever want to get away. 

Those big hands frame his face again, thumbs rubbing underneath his dilated eyes, and Jimin takes in a labored breath when the distance between them closes once more, nipping at Jeongguk’s bottom lip and reveling in the way he moans. Those hands slip down, tracing the delicate curve of his neck, the shape of his shoulders, before sliding further still to the covered planes of his chest, those long fingers finding and tweaking his nipples over the fabric until Jimin keens into his open mouth. 

“Sensitive,” Jeongguk murmurs in discovery, the man starting a fire in him that he doesn’t know how to control. 

When he pinches, Jimin’s back arches against the wall, his cock pressing against the thick line of Jeongguk’s own arousal. 

“You’re already hard for me?”

As if it would take much.

“So are you,” Jimin groans, his voice sounding deep and foreign to his own ears, giving in to the urge to rut against Jeongguk’s bare thigh.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he smirks, far too sultry for his own good. “I’ve been hard for you for a long time.”

Jimin gasps as he’s pulled deeper into the room, Jeongguk’s lips placing warm, open-mouth kisses along the cut of his jaw, the bed rushing up to meet them as they fall into it, a tongue tracing the shell of his ear once they land and causing more of that molten heat to build up between his legs. Jimin’s thighs spread at the intensity of it, allowing the other to slot between them perfectly, and he’s so lost to sensation that Jimin can’t even feel embarrassed as he begins to thrust against the muscled planes of Jeongguk’s body.

“Tell me what you want, Jimin. What you like?” the younger asks after pulling back till their eyes can meet, and he’s pleased to see that Jeongguk’s gaze is just as hazy as he feels. 

“Want you to fuck me,” he whispers, adding a soft, “please,” and crying out when Jeongguk meets the motion of his hips, their clothed cocks sliding against each other. 

“God yes.”

He says it as if he’s been granted a wish, and Jimin’s cheeks heat further, welcoming Jeongguk with open arms when his body lowers back down to his, hands slipping to the hem of his shirt, eyes seeking permission that Jimin freely grants with a nod. 

Jeongguk pulls the material up and over his head, Jimin’s arms lifting to aid in the removal, and with each inch of bare skin revealed, Jeongguk stares in awe, eyes shifting as if he doesn’t know where to look. 

Fingers go to his left nipple, the blunt nail of one pressing into the hardened nub and causing Jimin’s body to jolt, while the wet heat of Jeongguk’s mouth closes over the other, the burning stripe from a lick of Jeongguk’s tongue translating into fire, the teeth that follow the backdraft, his own hands slipping into the long strands of Jeongguk’s hair, a slight curl to it, fingers tugging and basking in the way it makes the younger hiss against his skin.

He visits the same treatment on the right nipple that he does the left, seeming to revel in Jimin’s whines and keens before sliding down further, mapping the plains of his abdomen, teeth nipping at his naval this time, inducing a violent shiver. Jeongguk nuzzles his face into the thin trail of hair that leads further down and out of view, chin bumping against the clothed leaking head of his cock, a wet patch forming in the material of his sweatpants, fingers dancing along the waistband before Jeongguk’s head tilts up, eyes finding his. 

“Can I, Jimin? Please?”

Words elude him, but still he gives an enthusiastic nod in response, a look of relief and excitement crossing the younger’s features when granted permission.

Hands pull the sweats down almost reverently, Jimin shivering when he’s left in nothing but his boxer briefs, the air warm but his skin sensitive, a shyness overtaking him with the intensity of Jeongguk’s stare, gaze sweeping over him before fixating on the visible tent in his underwear. 

A tiny cry slips past his lips when the younger drops down, nuzzling his face into the covered, heated flesh of his hard cock this time, which practically jumps at the attention, more precome leaking from the head and getting him even messier. 

“Wanna taste you,” Jeongguk breathes over his length, the words feeling like a brand, the heat of them warming his skin through the material. “Can I?”

“Please,” he begs, the visual alone making him want to come.  

But it’s nothing in comparison to the way Jeongguk’s mouth feels engulfing his length once he yanks his boxers down, swallowing around him as if desperate to get him into his throat.

Jimin’s eyes roll up into the back of his head, and he sees stars that rival the ones in Jeongguk’s eyes, body taut like a coiled spring, waiting to unfurl.

Between his legs Jeongguk bobs his head, and it feels a little bit like he’s spiraling, this man who is far too good with his mouth unraveling him at the seams. Hands slip beneath his legs, cupping the backs of his thighs in order to use their strength and encourage Jimin to move, to take his pleasure from those lips, and he’s all too happy to do so, hips thrusting up, small hitching cries escaping him from the perfect suction. 

Fucking Jeongguk’s face is the most delicious torture. Jimin doesn’t want to hurt him—but he also wants to shove his dick inside as deep as it’ll go and listen to the way Jeongguk gags on the length. God he probably sounds so pretty when he gags.

It's maddening, but he tries not to be too rough; an effort that is not appreciated; if Jeongguk’s forceful urging is anything to go by, petulant until Jimin gives him what he wants and does make him gag on it, drool and precome making a mess of his chin, even more so as Jimin’s thrusts speed up when he nears completion, moaning while those big hands grip into the meaty cheeks of his ass, Jeongguk using his hold to force him faster, rougher.

“Jeongguk,” he tries to warn, voice utterly wrecked. “Jeongguk I’m gonna come—”

The younger swallows around him again, and that’s all it takes, Jimin’s hips jolting as he empties down his throat, muscles aching with how tense his body has been while on the brink, relaxing now with the last of his orgasm, a euphoric sensation settling over him not only physically, but mentally, making Jimin feel as if he floats on waves, the stars twinkling overhead. 

Slowly, Jeongguk’s mouth releases his spent cock, and Jimin can feel him crawling up his body, his stare a weighted thing that traces over his flushed skin. 

“Wanna be inside you,” he whispers against his ear, and Jimin trembles over both the feel of his proximity to an erogenous zone, as well as his words, eyes fluttering open with sudden realization. 

“I didn’t bring—I don’t have anything,” he reveals, wanting nothing more than to kick himself in that moment, only to note the slight redness that darkens Jeongguk’s cheeks when he quietly admits, “I do.”

Jimin raises a brow at him, trying and failing to hold his smile as he teases.

“Oh? Thought you would get lucky, did you?”

“Fuck, I was hoping you’d let me,” he confesses, sounding almost pained as he ruts against Jimin’s thigh. “Went to the store this morning for hand warmers, in case you changed your mind about going out—"

There's something so heartbreakingly sweet about that. That Jeongguk would even make the effort in the event that Jimin did decide to brave the cold speaks volumes.

"—and I took a chance,” he continues, leaning back until they can look into each other’s eyes again. “Is that okay? We don’t have to—”

“No,” Jimin is quick to interrupt, pulling Jeongguk back down into another kiss, moaning into his mouth when he tastes himself on his tongue and quietly assures, “I want to.”

Jeongguk looks as if he’s been given the moon, moving to rise before falling back down to Jimin’s lips again with a rushed kiss, as if he can’t bear to part with him, before finally rolling away and gaining his feet, locating a plastic bag that’s been placed on the desk across the room. He brings it back, pulling out both condoms and lube to be placed on the bed within reach, hands exhibiting a slight tremor as they go to his own waistband.

“Here,” Jimin is quick to interject, sitting up and crawling towards the edge of the mattress, kicking off the boxer briefs that are still wrapped around his ankles as he goes. “Let me.”

Jeongguk’s hands immediately fall away, breath hitching when Jimin reaches out for him, small fingers sinking into the fabric and urging it down over the other’s fully erect cock.

He was right, Jeongguk isn’t wearing anything underneath, his thick length slapping against his muscled abdomen where it smears a line of precome over the skin, making Jimin’s mouth water as the sound of his shorts falling to floor reaches his ears. 

He’s—

Fuck, he’s perfect.  

Every inch, from the top of his head to the tips of his toes is a complete masterpiece, but right now, Jimin just really wants to admire his cock, stare at the flushed golden skin turned red with arousal, his slit beaded with clear fluid, glistening in the light. His balls are heavy between his legs, the prominent vein that lines the underside of his cock almost pulsating, and he’s so thick Jimin wonders if his fingers can wrap fully around the girth of him. 

God, he’s gonna feel him for days after. 

Jimin unconsciously licks his lips, only realizing that he does so when a thumb presses against the corner of his mouth, the slightest hint of pressure forcing it to part, sinking inside until Jimin can taste his skin before Jeongguk retracts it, tracing his spit-slick thumb over Jimin's swollen bottom lip. 

“What are your thoughts on foreplay?”

Jimin's breath catches.

“Most people would call what we’ve already done enough foreplay.”

“Most people are idiots,” Jeongguk huffs, eyes boring into Jimin as if he wants to learn all of his secrets, proving him right when he murmurs, “If I had someone like you, I’d want to know all the spots that make you cry. The sensitive areas that make your toes curl. The sounds you make when I touch you just right.”

Jimin’s hands trace up Jeongguk’s thighs, marveling at the muscle in them, the way they bulge beneath his touch, and looks back up at him from beneath his lashes, purposefully appearing coy. 

“You do have me,” he voices in a sensuous lilt, watching the way it makes Jeongguk’s eyes dilate. “So what are you going to do about it?”

“I wanna eat you out,” Jeongguk declares without an ounce of embarrassment, and even though it renders Jimin breathless he still can’t help but pout. 

“I want to suck you off,” he fires back.

The way the younger grins at him has Jimin’s cheeks turning red.

“Oh sweetheart. Let’s do both.”

That sends heat through Jimin’s core, his cock hardening further as more blood rushes between his legs, making him feel a bit light headed. 

Jeongguk crowds into him then, placing a sweet kiss to his lips before positioning him flat on his back, situating his own body in the opposite direction and encouraging Jimin’s legs to come up until his knees are pressed to his chest, spreading him open far enough to expose him to his ravenous gaze while his cock hovers above Jimin’s face. 

Jimin tilts his head back and eagerly opens his mouth, not waiting for any kind of signal or go ahead before guiding Jeongguk's cock down and wrapping his plush lips around the tip, tracing the slit with his tongue, smiling around his mouthful when Jeongguk jolts, a stuttered curse muttered under his breath. 

In retaliation, Jimin feels the hot wet line of Jeongguk’s tongue licking from his perineum to his quivering hole, eliciting a pitiful whimper from him, the vibrations in turn causing a groan in response, Jeongguk's hips stuttering, sinking his cock deeper into Jimin’s mouth, and he revels in the stretch of it, lids fluttering when that wet heat circles his rim again.

Hands trembling as he reaches up, Jimin digs his fingers into Jeongguk’s ass, tilting his head back as far as it’ll go and encouraging him to enter his constricting throat, feeling lightheaded when the long length of his thick cock blocks his airway. He’s just adjusting to breathing through his nose when that tongue wiggles it’s way inside of him, and Jimin squeals around his mouthful, the only thing stopping him from thrashing is Jeongguk’s hands on his waist, forcing him still.

Jimin has to do the same to Jeongguk when he shoves into his mouth a little too fast after Jimin’s tongue curls over that vein on the underside, the two of them falling apart like two unstable structures in a storm. The tongue in his hole fucks him with fast strokes, and it’s a fight to remember to visit the same attention on Jeongguk rather than give into the dizzying sensation, but the younger is happy enough when Jimin’s mouth goes slack, allowing him fuck into his throat without any resistance.

Jimin feels floaty, his grip losing strength, eyes rolling up, the pleasure so intense it’s almost painful—

Jeongguk pulls away with a gasp, a barely controllable desperation to him as he slowly eases his dick out of Jimin’s mouth, a small whine escaping him when Jimin’s numb lips make a popping sound along the wet engorged head. Collapsing down onto his side, Jeongguk takes in several deep breaths, hands rubbing across Jimin’s tummy and dipping into the smears of pearlescent liquid over the contours of his muscles as he wheezes, “Was gonna come. Your ass should be illegal. And your mouth— ”

“Your tongue,” Jimin counters, voice raspy and strangled.

Somehow Jeongguk pulls himself up on shaking limbs and turns himself around, not stopping until he slots himself against Jimin’s body, the tips of his fingers tracing over the jut of his ribs, seemingly cataloging Jimin’s reactions.

“Please,” he begs, pulling on Jeongguk as if that’ll get him where he wants him faster. “Need you now. Please.”

The younger’s face falls in mock-disappointment, eyes roaming over Jimin’s body.

“But I haven’t discovered all the spots that make you cry yet—”

“Next time,” Jimin promises in a rush, continuing to pull him closer. “You can find them next time.”

Jeongguk can hardly hold his pout, and when their lips meet it disappears entirely, hands reaching out to blindly search for the lube, humming when he finds it. The sound of the cap clicking open has a shiver running through Jimin’s body like a pavlovian response, legs spreading wider to expose himself to his lover’s gaze, pleasing him.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Let me see you.”

Jimin feels the hot burn of a flush over his cheeks, shy in the way he gets when leaving himself vulnerable for another to witness. But he’s also never felt this safe before with any of his previous partners, knowing that Jeongguk is just as invested in making Jimin feel good and enjoy himself, and that all it’ll take is one word from him and he'll slow down or stop if he needs him to, constantly making sure that he’s okay with what he’s doing.

And that’s everything.

“Can I finger you?” the younger asks, still wearing that hopeful expression that Jimin has never seen before in regards to sexual preparation. “Get you ready for me?”

“Fucking hell, Jeongguk.”

“I don’t have to be the one to do it if you don’t want me to.”

“I want you to,” Jimin growls, pulling him into another kiss before guiding him down, a smirk taking over his cupid’s bow lips. 

Deliberately in Jimin’s line of sight, Jeongguk coats four fingers generously in lube, wriggling them in the light till they glisten and causing his breath to hitch.

"Come on," Jimin demands impatiently. "Want you in me now."

Holding his hand aloft, Jeongguk kisses him tongue first, licking into his mouth before his lips follow. 

"Demanding little thing, aren't you?"

"I'll show you little," Jimin threatens against his lips, sinking his teeth into the fuller bottom one and finally getting to tug on the silver ring.

They laugh into each other's mouths, and Jimin's heart clenches with how easy this feels.

Why hasn’t it ever felt this easy before?

Jeongguk actually takes the time to rub his fingers together, creating friction and warming the lube rather than just shoving them in. The heat of it is surprising when Jimin notes the way one of those long digits traces a spiral over his rim, adding pressure against the opening. A moan escapes him when it finally sinks inside, his walls tightening as he tries to bare down on it in order to get it deeper.

“Easy,” Jeongguk whispers, but all Jimin wants to do is pull him closer, grab his wrist and force him to be less gentle, and something in his expression must say as much, Jeongguk chuckling quietly before sinking his teeth into his chin, pulling a gasp from Jimin’s lips.

After what feels like torturous minutes that finger starts to move again, mapping out quivering walls, twisting and seeming to experiment with pace and force, trying to find what makes his breath hitch, the angle that has his lashes fluttering until—

Jimin releases a small, cut-off cry, Jeongguk’s eyes intense when they meet. 

“There?”

“There,” he affirms, breathless and already overwhelmed, the small brush of his prostate feeling as if it’s in danger of pushing him over the edge already. 

But that seems to be Jeongguk’s goal, and once he’s found it, he’s relentless, the tip of his finger rubbing over that bundle of nerves, tapping against it until Jimin’s body arches and refuses to come back down again, as if he’s sprouted wings and gravity holds no dominion over him, an indescribable tension filling up in his core, sure he’s about to burst at the seams—

But then the younger moves off, retracting his finger to finally add in a second, and he goes through this sweet torture for two more fingers, until Jeongguk has deemed him stretched enough to take him.

“Are you ready for me?” he asks, tearing the condom wrapper with his teeth and rolling it down onto his pretty cock, slicking it up while his eyes stay on Jimin, and he tries to give him a truly scathing look even as he licks his lips at the eye-feast he’s been given, suddenly wanting nothing more than to suck him off again. 

Jeongguk laughs at his expression, knowing full well what he’s put him through, that he’s more than ready, before coming down to nose along Jimin’s cheek in a sweet; even affectionate, gesture. 

“How do you want it sweetheart?”

“With your dick inside me, Jeongguk.”

He laughs again, shaking his head before Jimin gasps, the thick head of his cock adding the most delicious pressure against his entrance. 

“Like this then?”

He nods eagerly, not caring how they do it as long as he can feel the entirety of that monster between Jeongguk’s legs inside of him. 

Following the insistent urging of the hands on his thighs, Jimin spreads himself wider, allowing his knees to press against his shoulders, the tops of Jeongguk’s thighs pressing into his own, and they watch each other as he leans forward, that cock slowly easing past the ring of muscle, his body opening and sucking him in.

“Oh, fuck.”

Jeongguk stretched him longer than what Jimin is used to, but it still feels like the fit is too tight, like he can feel every inch of skin that sinks inside, the stretch riding the line between pleasure and pain in the most perfect balance.

“Are you alright?”

He’s not even halfway in and Jimin is sweating, drenched strands of his hair falling in his eyes until he has to shake them away, Jeongguk seeming to panic, taking the motion as an answer.

“No? I can stop—”

Jimin’s hands claw into his back as soon as he attempts to pull away, legs coming down to tighten around his waist. 

“I was trying to get my hair out of my eyes,” he whispers in the quiet, only the sounds of their labored breaths filling the room. “I’m fine. I feel good. You feel good.”

That appeases him, leaning down until their foreheads press together, lips seeking each other out in a desperate kiss, and it’s only after they break away that his hips once again begin that insistent press forward. 

Jimin holds his breath until he bottoms out, feeling the sting in his protesting lungs as surely as he feels Jeongguk’s cock pulsing inside, the heat of him burning, and he fancies that he can feel it pressing against the other side of his navel, the feeling less intense when he finally releases the breath he's been holding. 

Above him Jeongguk shudders once he bottoms out, mouth hanging open, eyes squeezed shut tight. 

“Fuck Jimin.”

“I know,” he stutters, desperately trying to stay in the moment with him, afraid that his body will drift away on the wave of sensation that’s attempting to drag Jimin out to sea If he lets it.

As if he feels the same pull, Jeongguk wraps his arms under his back, holding them tighter against each other, hips suttering, that thick length inside him retreating before slowly pumping back inside. 

“More,” Jimin begs, even as he’s sure that if he gets any more it’ll be far too much for him to take. 

Still, Jeongguk pulls back slightly, giving himself enough room and leverage to pull out until just the swollen head remains, only to slam back inside. Jimin’s back arches off the bed, a sharp cry vibrating deep within his chest and out past his lips, a prism of stars born and dying behind his eyes. 

Jeongguk does it again, and when Jimin finally clears the haze from his vision he nearly shies away under such an intense stare, the younger appearing enamored with his reactions. 

“You make the prettiest noises,” he husks, long hair hanging down and making him appear almost wild, a look to match the strength of his hips as he picks up speed again, Jimin unable to catch his breath as he practically pounds into him. “I want to make you scream.”

Jeongguk gets his wish when his dick brushes against his prostate, the sound ripped from Jimin resembling a wail, echoing off the walls and coming back to vibrate along their skin, his blunt nails dragging over any part of his lover that he can reach, that familiar pressure building again. 

“Faster,” he begs. “Harder.”

And Jeongguk delivers on both, his hands finding his own while his hips rut into him faster, their fingers intertwining, arms stretched out across the mattress, and all Jimin can do is hang onto him as he's torn apart, sure he'll never be able to put himself back together again.

Sure he'll never be the same…

"J-Jeongguk," he chokes as that spot inside him is hit again, his cock dribbling against his stomach, trapped between his own abdomen and Jeongguk's, the most delicious friction sending shocks of electricity along his nerves.

"I'm right here sweetheart," he assures, and when Jimin looks up at him their lips meet again, his tingling, tongue caressing against his own while Jeongguk fucks him faster, the assault on his prostate near constant now. 

Jimin tries to warn him about the fire in his belly that's rising, demanding to be let out like a dragon spitting flames, but words fail him, so he settles for clenching and unclenching his fingers against Jeongguk's hands, knowing that he understands when he whispers, "You can let go, Jimin. I've got you."

That's all the encouragement he needs, his body burning up with his orgasm, Jeongguk hitting that spot inside in the same way his abs rub against his leaking arousal, ropes of come streaking up his chest as he cries out and give himself over to it.

He's fucked into four—five more times after, sure he's going to keen in over-sensitivity when Jeongguk's own body goes taut, cock pulsating inside with his release.

He collapses down onto Jimin, but only for a second before he remembers to be conscious about his size, easing off a bit before deciding to roll them both over onto their sides, keeping them connected for now.

Jimin doesn't mind. He likes it.

🌨️

The two of them lie in ruined sheets afterward, too comfortably wrapped up in each other to care, with Jeongguk making the joke that they can always go back to Jimin’s room where the sheets are still clean. 

For now. 

They do end up switching rooms eventually, putting in a request to have Jeongguk’s serviced while ordering food from the restaurant to be delivered, the two of them feeding each other off of their plates as they watch a cringey action movie, and Jimin’s cheeks hurt from smiling so much, laughing at the over the top impersonations Jeongguk makes of all the characters. 

They fall asleep in the afternoon, Jimin waking up first and coaxing Jeongguk to do the same by taking his dick all the way into his throat, holding his hips down against the bed when the younger wakes with a startled whine. Jimin makes him come quickly, warms and cradles his cock on his tongue inside the heat of his mouth until he’s hard again and then rides him until he forgets how to talk, the only thing remotely intelligible that spills from his lips being Jimin’s name. 

After cleaning up, they travel down to the lobby once it’s dark, the melodic sound of soft piano and jazz reaching their ears, creating its trademark atmosphere of warm easy comfort, the fire roaring in the hearth. Even the lit up Christmas tree makes him happy, and Jimin knows he’s in serious trouble.  

They sit on the same sectional as before, with Jeongguk covering them both in the same blanket, and beneath the soft fleece, Jimin feels those long fingers search out his own, holding his breath as the younger interlaces them together, the warmth of their palms kissing like lovers with a secret. 

How can holding hands with someone feel just as intimate as sex?

There’s a part of him that’s begging to create some distance between them. To guard what he can of his heart, knowing how easily he gets attached. But—inadvisably—he ignores that plea, wanting to throw himself into the experience, along with the feelings that are currently wreaking havoc on his emotions, and Jimin snuggles into Jeongguk’s side, the heat of the other’s body coupled with that of the fire lulling him into a soft, unhurried place where there are no consequences, and the only thing that matters is the two of them. Jeongguk in turn leans his head against his own while they snort and huff as they play games on his tablet, getting far too competitive over the likes of words with friends and pocket tanks. 

About halfway into ribbing Jimin for picking a particular move in the game, he feels when Jeongguk looks up, the fingers currently at his nape sinking into his hair, blunt nails scratching at his scalp.

“Jimin-ah?”

He doesn’t even bat an eye at the informality.

“Hmm?”

“Merry Christmas.”

Jimin’s own gaze flies up to the large clock that hangs on the wall, a small smile turning up the corners of his lips when he sees it's already past midnight, a strange warmth filling him that he’s never once felt in association with the holiday, that usual irritation nowhere to be found.

“Merry Christmas Jeongguk-ah.”

They burrow against each other even more, and Jimin sighs when a kiss is placed against his hair, wishing in vain for this moment to never end. 

🌨️

There’s a weight pressing against Jimin’s back, making it nearly impossible to move, and somewhere a phone is going off, it’s high-pitched shriek making it impossible for him to return to his dreams. Disorientation fills him as he blinks awake, trying to get rid of the fog that clouds his vision. 

He's on his stomach, with Jeongguk on top of him, larger body framing his own, and Jimin is almost positive he’s drooling on his shoulder blade while he snores. 

A groan rumbles in his chest once the phone goes off, only to start back up again not even thirty seconds later. 

“Jeongguk-ah?” Jimin rasps, wiggling what he can of his body to try and wake the heavy sleeper, his muscles sore from last night’s …activities . “Jeongguk-ah!”

“Hmm?”

The younger sniffles, lifting his head slightly before what feels like a palm poorly attempting to wipe up the drool. 

“Sorry,” he croaks, rolling off of him before the sound of the phone registers. “Is that mine or yours?”

“Yours.”

It’s Jeongguk’s turn to groan, and he continues rolling until it sounds as if he falls off the bed with a grunt, unable to locate his phone by the time the ringing stops again.

Only to have another ringtone fill the room, this time from Jimin’s. 

Pulling himself up the bed, he locates the thing vibrating along the surface of the night table, his mother’s contact info lit up on the screen. 

He answers the call quickly, knowing what’s coming before he even gets a word out. 

“Merry Christmas!”

A wince decorates Jimin’s features, finding Jeongguk’s wide eyed stare looking back at him from the floor, his nude body tangled up in a sheet, cheeks flushed, and far too beautiful for someone who has only just woken up and has drool on his lips.

“Merry Christmas Eomma,” he remembers to say back, though his attention is completely captivated by his lover.   

She begins her trademark way of talking a mile a minute, asking him questions only to answer them herself, explaining that the rest of the family wants to speak to him, only to have Jeongguk’s phone begin ringing again at the exact moment she's gone quiet. 

“What’s that, Min-ah? Are you with someone?”

“No, eomma, it’s just my alarm clock,” he lies, narrowing his eyes at Jeongguk as he snorts in amusement, still scrambling to find his phone. 

Jimin wraps himself up in another blanket, grabs his keycard off of the same night table and rushes out the door without thinking, only to immediately run into one of the cleaning staff, the older woman seemingly finished up with his room, her eyes mirthful as she watches him make his short walk of shame.

He’s stuck on the phone with his family for forty minutes, passed around for well wishes and stilted conversation and enough Merry Christmases to last him till next year. 

When he’s finally able to end the call, the longest, deepest sigh leaves him, unable to help but feel completely drained, gaze sweeping the room until his eyes settle on the slowly falling snow out the window. 

He knows he should be there right now. Should be helping his mother in the kitchen, or enjoying a drink with his father, or even helping his brother set up the table while listening to what everyone has been getting up to, his aunt's nightmare Christmas shopping experience, or his cousin's latest promotion.

Whatever it is people talk about.

Instead he’s here, indulging in a holiday love affair with the most beautiful man he’s ever seen, and he’s conflicted on whether he should be overrun with guilt or not—

The hotel phone rings, and Jimin leans over to answer it, a small weight lifting at the sound of Jeongguk’s voice. 

“Just finished talking to my family, what about you? All good?”

“All good,” he confirms, a dopey smile overtaking his lips over his next words.

“Then…can you come back now?”

"Why? Miss me?" Jimin teases, not expecting Jeongguk's blunt honesty. 

"Yes."

That's the thing about him that Jimin has so far discovered. He doesn't play mind games, doesn't withhold the truth in a self-preservation measure that even Jimin is guilty of, and that's so refreshing even Jimin can't help but be candid.

“I miss you too. Let me get dressed and then I'll come back.”

“Get dressed? Why?”

He sounds so completely offended that Jimin can't help but laugh.

“Because I left wearing only a sheet.”

“Oh, well that’s lovely. Keep doing that, you won’t be wearing it for long.”

Jimin snorts, shaking his head even as his heart flutters. 

“Jeongguk—”

“Come on, Jimin-ah. It’s Christmas.”

“I’m well aware.”

“Then come back and let me unwrap my present.”

Heat travels between Jimin’s legs at the dip in Jeongguk’s tone, voice deeper in a newly familiar way that speaks to his arousal, and Jimin wants nothing more than to obey.

“Am I your present now?”

“Best present I’ve ever gotten,” he murmurs, and Jimin hangs up on him without another word, quickly moving to his door and sticking his head out to make sure the coast is clear.

Once he does, he flies to Jeongguk’s door, not even getting the chance to knock before it’s thrown open and he’s yanked inside. 

The sheet almost doesn't make it.

🌨️

“Can I ask you something personal?” Jeongguk wonders, fingers tracing over the grooves of Jimin’s hands between his knuckles as they lie tangled up in each other, the warmth and his sated body making it hard to panic, even though he knows he probably should be.

“Okay.”

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but…why don’t you like Christmas?”

Jimin hums as he shifts slightly, not wanting to dislodge Jeongguk's hold on him.

“Let me just say I don’t actively dislike Christmas,” he tries to clarify, wondering how he can go about explaining this. “It’s just—when I was little, my family didn’t have much. Both of my parents worked full time and it was up to me to kind of make sure that my little brother and I were getting to school, that we were fed, doing our homework and going to bed at a decent hour.”

Jimin leans further back against Jeongguk’s chest, propped up from the many pillows along the headboard, feeling the way he buries his nose in his hair and inhales, humming beneath his breath in a way that oddly soothes him.

“Every year, the other children in our neighborhood used to come outside to show off their presents, and my brother and I were always pointed out when we had nothing to show. I remember how terrible and guilty I felt when Christmas came, because I wanted something, even though I knew better than anyone else what an impossibility that was with our parent's situation. 

"But even so, I couldn't help wanting some toy, or a new pair of shoes—whatever it was—and the disappointment that followed when there was nothing waiting for me when I woke up made me feel ashamed of myself. My brother and I stopped going outside on Christmas cause we didn't want to be pitied or made fun of. Like I said, we didn’t have much to begin with, but every year my brother and I always thought, maybe. Maybe this year, but it never happened. I feel really self-entitled even now just saying it—”

“No,” Jeongguk softly murmurs near his ear, placing a kiss along the lobe as he disagrees, arms tightening around his torso. “I don’t think that makes you self-entitled at all. You were a child, and you didn't get to experience it the way other children around you did.”

Jimin’s hand squeezes his naked thigh in gratitude over his perfect understanding, the tips of his fingers tickling along his skin as he finishes off his story. 

“So, back then; and as I got older, Christmas just felt like another day. Unremarkable. Then later it kind of turned into a couples holiday, but because of work, I still never really celebrated. Things have changed; for my family especially and money isn't an issue anymore, but I still can’t shake this kind of reluctance to celebrate, nor the apathy I hold towards the holiday.”

For a moment Jimin fears that the other will try to encourage him to give it a chance, or change his mind, but he should’ve known better. Instead, Jeongguk tightens his hold on him and pulls him closer into his chest, nuzzling into his neck with a soft, “That makes perfect sense.”

And that’s really all he says on the matter. He doesn’t try to make Jimin feel bad, or see the other side, try to offer up some kind of solution. He just takes Jimin’s feelings as they are and accepts them.  

How is he supposed to say goodbye to this man in a few days?

“What about you?" He asks, not wanting to face that reality. "Why are you trying to escape Christmas?”

He feels it when Jeongguk shrugs behind him, resting his chin on Jimin’s shoulder. 

“It was just never something I allowed myself to indulge in. I’ve had to work a lot as well, trying to set things in motion, always looking towards my future. Christmas just never seemed that important in comparison, but I suppose the reminder of it got to me at times. The lights, the music, the way people are during the season. It feels as if life is saying, hey, look what you’re missing out on, if that makes sense.”

“It does,” Jimin assures, turning until they’re able to look into each other’s eyes. 

"I guess I didn't want to feel that anymore. Like I was missing out, like I would regret it later, so I guess I would rather avoid it."

At that confession, Jimin softly frames his face with his hands, leaning in until their noses bump. 

"That makes perfect sense to me too."

He’s never really discussed this with anyone, other than his brother, who knew by living through the same, and Jimin feels as if he’s creating more ties with someone he has no right to keep, knowing that when the time comes to say goodbye, it’ll hurt all the more. 

🌨️

To say that their final day is a somber one would be an understatement, with the both of them due to leave early the next morning, and Jimin having quite a drive ahead of him. 

Jeongguk gets strangely quiet, lost in his head in a way that leaves Jimin unsure of what to do, how to help. But then around midday he gets noticeably more…peppy? Making the suggestion that they go back down to the bowling alley, as if trying to recapture the easier atmosphere they shared the first time they visited, and Jimin agrees, finding himself on lane thirteen again, the room dark but lit up in neon, with Jeongguk buying rounds from the bar despite the hour. 

“It’s kind of early,” Jimin laughs, taking his drink before Jeongguk loses his grip, the younger man seemingly jittery with nerves. 

“You know what they say,” he yells over the music and the loud boom of the balls hitting the floor. “It’s five o’clock somewhere.”

He downs a shot, and Jimin does the same, though he watches Jeongguk intently, knowing him to be far more affected by his liquor than he is. Even so he bowls a near perfect game, and though he tries to suggest another, Jimin drags him out after plying him with water, taking Jeongguk back up to his room and setting him on the bed, knowing something’s wrong when the younger can hardly meet his gaze. 

“What is it, Jeongguk-ah?”

“Hmm?”

“Something is bothering you. Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

“Okay,” Jimin easily responds, willing to let it go until Jeongguk shakes his head as if confused. 

“No, I mean yes . I—I want to talk about it. But I also don’t want to, but I will.”

“You don’t have to—”

“No, I want to say this, just…give me a second.”

“Take all the time you need.”

The room goes quiet, the younger man staring at the ground with eyes so wide that Jimin would think he was terrified, fingers gripping his own knees, digging into the fabric of his pants. 

With a deep shuddering breath, he begins, the tone of his voice a little higher than usual. 

“I’ve had…the most amazing time with you, honestly. I want you to know that. This week has been incredible.”

Jimin's tone is soft and clearly affected when he murmurs, “For me as well,” needing him to know that he’s not alone in that feeling. 

“It’s just—I leave tomorrow, you leave tomorrow, and I don’t think I’m ready to never see you again.”

There it is.

It’s Jimin’s turn to take in a surprised breath, lips parting as he sits in stunned silence. 

“Jeongguk—”

But he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say. 

I’ll miss you too? I don’t want this to end either?

These are sentiments that may as well be tethers, wrapping their bodies up and tying them tight in order to cling on to what they have in this moment—

Even if they both know it won’t work out in the end. 

“You live in Seoul, I live in Busan,” he decides on, voice wavering and lacking the conviction it needs, even as he knows he needs to be practical, because if Jeongguk can see the logic and truth in his words he’ll get it, that lightbulb moment that tells him that this can’t go on. 

Because Jimin himself fears being all too easily swayed to the other side, that second—terribly bad for him—option. 

The voice in his mind that whispers what if?

“I know,” Jeongguk agrees, nodding adamantly, and Jimin almost sighs in relief, glad that he was easily persuaded.

But then Jeongguk is angling his body towards him, taking Jimin’s lax hands in his own, an imploring look in his star-crossed eyes. 

“I know people say anything long distance is a bad idea—”

“Because it usually is,” Jimin interrupts, feeling his stomach drop out when it looks as if Jeongguk takes a hit, but he comes back a bit more determined, and Jimin feels seconds away from crying. 

“Listen…I’m not asking you to commit to anything. We don’t have to put a label on this, if you don’t want to. I’m not saying you have to commit yourself to me, or that you can’t meet anybody, but just…I still want to talk to you. Get to know you better. Maybe even come see you?”

He sounds so eager it nearly breaks Jimin’s heart. 

“You would come to Busan to see me?”

Fuck, he's wavering—

“Yes,” Jeongguk answers without hesitating, and a distressed sound escapes from the back of Jimin's throat.

“You really think this can go anywhere, though, in the long run?” He wonders, genuinely curious, but still guarded. “I mean, this can only go so far when we live at opposite ends of the country.”

“I know. But I told you how I’m looking to help that starter company expand, and Busan is a place of interest. I’ll be making several trips there already in search of locations, and I still have family down there. I could come see you regularly, see where this goes, and with everything else we could text and call and video chat.”

Jimin swallows, almost nauseas with nerves. He’s never had anyone fight to convince him like this that they could work. To not give up on something before it’s had the chance to start. 

It’s overwhelming.

The wall around his heart melts like it was made of snow, even as the logical part of his brain screams at him to let Jeongguk down easy. These kinds of relationships hardly ever work out, and usually only do with dedicated couples who have time and history and feelings of love to help support that foundation, not for two people who engaged in a one week love affair. That logical part tells him to end it now, to spare them of the heartache he knows waits for them down the line.

But with Jeongguk’s hands in his own, doe-eyes inches away that blink at him while he awaits his answer, Jimin’s stomach constricts, and another pained noise escapes him before he nods, unsure if he's making the right choice.

But it's the choice he wants.

“Okay.”

Jeongguk looks as if he brought him the moon.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” he reaffirms, barely getting the word out before Jeongguk gains his feet and kisses him deeply, the two laughing emotionally into each other’s mouths as if Jeongguk just proposed, and Jimin feels almost like his world has narrowed its focus, Jeongguk the center of his attention. 

Kissing turns into exploring hands, which turns into whispered words that ask for permission followed by quiet acquiescence, clothes discarded, fingers following the same path as eyes which drink up each other’s forms. 

Jeongguk makes love to Jimin that night. That’s the only way Jimin can describe the tender way in which he handles him, as if he’s something precious. 

Or like this is the last time.

And something like despair fills Jimin when they both come, so acutely painful that he nearly clutches his heart. But it doesn’t last long, that despair giving way to something else when Jeongguk talks excitedly about making plans to visit him already. 

It feels like hope.   

🌨️

It’s more than somber when the two of them get up early the next morning, the sky still dark just beyond the windows. Both had stayed up late, wanting to prolong the inevitable moment when they would part, but it came quickly all the same. 

Jimin drags his feet as he goes about Jeongguk’s room, making sure he has his toothbrush and toothpaste, deodorant, charger and phone, not wanting to forget anything. It’s a long way back to Busan. He already did the same to his own room, cleaning it out the day before. 

Now, he grabs his keycards and sits on the edge of the bed to watch as Jeongguk does the same.  

The younger pats his pockets for his keys twice—they’re still there—and then checks the time over and over again, sighing when he can put it off no longer. His gaze slides to Jimin, a stuttered sound leaving him when he tosses everything that’s in his hands onto the bed next to him, pulling Jimin to his feet and wrapping him up in a hug. 

He stands there, hands held aloft, the younger squeezing him tight as if afraid to let go, and Jimin allows his arms to wrap around him as well, fingers burying in the long strands of his hair, a part of him hoping that they become so tangled up in each other it becomes impossible to separate. 

Jeongguk pulls back first, but only to place a heated kiss to his lips, which very quickly devolves into the both of them just breathing each other in, hands framing faces, Jimin’s fingers tugging at the wavy strands of his hair, too scared to face what happens when he lets go. 

“Are you ready?”

He’s not, but Jimin nods anyway, placing another desperate kiss on Jeongguk’s lips before they pull away. 

The trip down to the lobby is quiet. Even checking out is quiet, and more than once Jimin stares longingly at the stone hearth, wishing more than anything that he could curl up on the couch with Jeongguk and his book, a mug of hot chocolate in his hands. 

Even the Christmas tree has him emotional. 

When they step outside together, luggage rolling behind them, the cold air is a shock to Jimin’s system, nose and cheeks going numb, snowflakes getting caught in his lashes. The roof of his car is covered in snow, and he’s dreading getting inside, knowing how cold it’ll be. Knowing what it means. 

“Jimin-ah?”

He turns to Jeongguk, smiling at the way he holds his phone up and motions towards one of the decorated Douglas Firs. 

“Take a picture with me?”

His smile widens, and Jimin abandons his luggage in order to burrow into Jeongguk’s side, his puffer jacket soft and warm, their smiles on the screen wide and happy. 

“Send it to me?” he asks once he snaps the picture, the younger man’s smile turning almost bittersweet. 

“You have to give me your number.”

That’s right. They still haven’t exchanged numbers, and in many ways this will solidify Jimin’s decision, if he chooses to give it, it means he’s allowing Jeongguk in, entertaining what it is he proposed—

“Here. Put your number in.”

He’s already made up his mind, and as he passes his phone off to Jeongguk, the screen showing it’s already opened up to input a new contact, a look of pure relief takes over his features as he accepts it, and Jimin knows he’s making the right choice. 

Jeongguk enters in his information, tonguing at his lip ring while he does before passing it back. 

“I sent myself a text, so I have your number as well.”

Jimin beams, trying not to show how sad he is that they’re parting, but it hits him hard when Jeongguk walks him to his car, pulling him into another hug.

"Drive safe, okay?"

"You too Jeongguk-ah."

"Can you let me know when you make it back? I know you'll be tired, so just a quick text—"

"I'll call you," Jimin murmurs, hating that he's getting emotional.

He's only known Jeongguk a week, damn it. How can someone you've barely known for seven days affect you so much?

Jimin pulls the younger into one last desperate kiss that's mostly teeth, forcing himself to let him go and climb into the cab of his car, unable to watch as Jeongguk walks towards his own while he cranks up the heat. 

From the pocket of his peacoat his phone buzzes just as Jeongguk pulls away, and when Jimin checks the message he nearly bursts into ugly tears seeing it's from his new contact saved as Jeongguk 💜 .

He sent the photo of them that they took, the smiles on both of their faces so wide that Jimin finds himself returning the gesture, a small massage attached.

I miss you already.

🌨️

TEN MONTHS LATER

Originally, Jimin doesn’t even give them a month. Three weeks, tops, that’s the maximum amount of time he’s willing to bet on before the two of them realize this isn’t going to work and either have an awkward conversation about it, or let their communication peter out into silence. 

He’s glad to be proven wrong in this instance, and Jeongguk’s effort and dedication is a big part of why he can say that. From the start he has taken every chance and opportunity to keep in contact with Jimin. Keep the conversation going. From texts to calls, to video chat, he eagerly reaches out with his bright doe-eyes and blinding smile.

And then there have been the in-person visits, with Jeongguk making multiple trips down to Busan, with the time they are able to spend together as short as one night to as long as five while he helps search for locations for the starter company he works for. 

Speaking of, Jimin's phone vibrates against his thigh, and he surreptitiously checks it, the younger already trying to confirm the next time they'll be in each other's orbit again. 

I'm coming down in less than a week. Excited?

He can't help but grin tellingly as he types back. 

I'm always excited for you.

Are you? How excited?

Would you like me to take a picture and show you?

Is this a trick question? Of course I want you to show me.

Jimin's smile widens until it hurts, fingers flying over the keyboard.

"—so I gave him your name, and I think…Jimin? Are you listening?"

His eyes fly up and away from his screen, wearing what he knows to be a guilty expression. 

“Hmm?”

Across the table at the outdoor restaurant where they’re catching lunch, Hoseok grins knowingly at him rather than looking offended.

“And who has you smiling like that, Jimin-ah?”

“No one, hyung.”

He shuts his phone off as if it’ll stop his longtime friend and colleague from seeing who exactly it is, clearing his throat and trying not to give himself away. 

But it's clearly too late.

“Don’t give me that. I know that look. You like someone,” he practically sings, clearly enjoying embarrassing him.

Jimin looks him right in the eye, raises a brow and says, “So?”

The challenge practically has Hoseok in stitches, his infectious laughter ringing out over the city’s cacophony.

“ So ,” he repeats, amusement lingering in his tone. “Don’t try and act like it’s not a big deal. I know you,” he beams, stirring the straw in his americano. “Who is he? When did you meet him?”

Jimin sighs, bringing both his hands and his phone onto the tabletop. 

“We met last Christmas—”

“Last Christmas,” Hoseok gasps exaggeratedly as if it’s the most romantic thing he’s ever heard, and he flashes him a withering look before moving on, ignoring his amusement.

“It was just supposed to be a fling. He lives in Seoul.”

When he looks back up the older man appears taken aback, not expecting that.

“You’re doing long distance? You?”

“I know. And I was the first one to say it wouldn’t last, but…” Jimin can’t help the dopey smile that takes over his lips, “he was persistent in keeping in contact with me. He even makes the trip down when he can.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t answer this if you don’t want to, but do you have long term plans for the relationship to last, or are you just riding it out while it works?”

Jimin shrugs, fidgeting with his hands, knowing what his hopes are, but unsure if they have any chance in reality. 

“I want it to work,” he admits, confessing that particular truth to his plate, a deep sigh leaving him. “I just don’t know how it can.”

Hoseok folds his hands together, a look of intrigue entering his expression.

“Well, while you weren’t paying attention to a word I was saying earlier, I was actually trying to tell you about an opportunity that’s popping up that you might be interested in.”

“Oh?”

“The hotel is opening a new location in Seoul, and they’re looking for someone to help run the offices, take on more of a lead role.”

“Seoul?” Jimin asks, knowing what Hoseok is suggesting, even as he wants to argue against it. 

He’s never once thought of leaving Busan. His family is here. He’s spent his whole life here, uprooting it now for someone else just feels so out of character—

“It wouldn’t have to be permanent. You can still work between offices, or even do a big part of the job from home, but it’s good exposure to get your name out there. Prove you’re capable. I suggested you when they asked me.”

“You did?”

“Yes, and this was before I knew about your Christmas lover. I really think you’re the most qualified for the job.”

Jimin beams at him with warmth, allowing the idea to settle and marinate, trying not to reject anything too soon, and he nods when Hoseok suggests that he, “think on it.”

The older man claps his hands, clearly excited as he eyes Jimin's phone.

"Now, do you have a picture of your mystery man, or?"

Jimin rolls his eyes, though he quickly unlocks his screen and pulls up one of the selcas that Jeongguk had sent him, feeling an interesting sense of pride when Hoseok whistles under his breath at the sight of him, clicking his tongue as he stares.

"Park Jimin, if you don't keep him, I will."

🌨️

Jimin’s eyes keep finding the clock, waiting for the numbers to finally show 7:15.

He's got a text on his phone that says Be there in ten minutes sweetheart, and only three minutes left to go.

. . .

Two minutes now. 

Jimin is nearly bouncing on his toes, gaze sweeping over his apartment to make sure everything is clean—

There’s a knock on the door, the tempo of it rushed.  

Jimin wipes his clammy palms on the thighs of his jeans, taking in a deep breath before unlocking and opening the door. No sooner does he see Jeongguk that he can’t help pulling him in. A bag impacts with the ground as he kicks the door shut behind them, pushing Jeongguk up against the flat surface and Jumping into his arms, the younger man catching him easily, hands cupping the backs of his thighs as his legs wrap around his waist, sliding up until he can grab a palmful of Jimin’s ass.

The kiss is wet and messy, and despite the late autumn chill there’s nothing but heat between them. He tangles his fingers in Jeongguk’s hair—longer now than it was when they met—pulling until he hears the way he moans, long-since learning that the younger likes a bit of pain mixed with his pleasure. 

Jeongguk’s lips leave his, trailing down to his neck in order to sink his teeth into the skin, and it’s Jimin’s turn to gasp, the sound morphing into a drawn out groan as he sucks. 

“Miss me?” Jeongguk growls into his skin, the humidity fanning out along his throat, making Jimin shiver when it cools, Jeongguk pressing a sweet kiss over his pulse point. 

“Everyday,” he whispers, tilting his head back to give him as much access as possible, Jeongguk taking full advantage.

“Me too sweetheart.”

They don’t make it to his bedroom. They barely even make it to Jimin’s couch, where Jeongguk throws him over the armrest and fucks him from behind, the sex rushed to reflect both of their neediness, the days spent apart long and nearly unbearable, Jimin missing him more and more with each visit, each call, each text until he feels like he can’t stand it for one minute more. 

Once they collapse onto the hardwood, he waits until Jeongguk catches his breath before riding him languorously, taking his time, noting the way they both shake from oversensitivity as his body fluidly curls forward and arches back, Jeongguk’s hands following the same path as his eyes, gripping onto his hips, thumbs stroking over the pronounced lines that adorn his abdomen and trail down towards his groin, sliding up to trace the contours of his torso, thumbing at his nipples until Jimin whines. 

When they’ve finally exhausted themselves, Jeongguk picks Jimin up bridal-style and carries him to bed, placing gentle kisses over the bridge of his nose until he giggles and swats him away, the younger turning so that Jimin can be the big spoon while they cuddle.     

“It’s gonna be Christmas soon,” he murmurs, Jimin humming at that, realizing this will be the first Christmas where he’s in a relationship. “I was wondering…what your plans are?”

The way he asks, so carefully and clearly nervous, has Jimin’s heart melting. 

“I wanted to ask you the same thing,” he admits, arms tightening over Jeongguk’s chest. 

“I was hoping we could go away again. Spend it at the lodge, together?”

Jimin’s smile is so wide it hurts his cheeks. 

“I’d love that. I can meet you up there,” he suggests, already excited over the prospect of a full, uninterrupted week with his lover. 

But when Jeongguk speaks again, there’s a serious quality to his tone that puts him on edge.

"There's some things I want to talk to you about while we're there."

"If you're gonna break up with me just do it now," Jimin mumbles into his skin, smiling when he makes him laugh, Jeongguk turning in his arms and gifting him with those twinkling stars that shine in his eyes. 

"I'd be crazy to break up with you."

"You'd also have to be my boyfriend to break up with me, which you're not, technically."

"I'm not?" He pouts, clear disappointment in the lilt of his words, and Jimin is the one to laugh this time when he shakes his head, Jeongguk’s lips rubbing over his neck when he speaks again. "Maybe that's one of the things I want to talk to you about."

"You're gonna make me wait till our trip?" Jimin demands, eyes suddenly widening. "Are you gonna ask me out on Christmas?"

"Hush you," Jeongguk huffs, covering his mouth with a palm before smoothly replacing it with his lips. “Don’t ruin the surprise.”

🌨

Jimin considers Seoul, becoming more and more excited as he thinks about the logistics and how he would make it work. So when he’s approached by the project manager for the new location, asking if he has any interest, Jimin immediately reveals that he does. 

“Would you be willing to take a tour of the site? Check out our offices up there?”

“I’d love to,” he murmurs, butterflies tickling his stomach and giving him a strange sense of weightlessness as he commits to doing this. To seeking out such a big change. 

“That’s great. Get in touch with Hana-ssi. She’ll help you with your itinerary. We can have you out there by next week.”

Jimin stumbles through his gratitude, trying not to scream in both elation and panic outside his office.  

🌨

Seoul is loud. Not that Busan isn’t, but there’s something almost foriegn about the way everything sounds here. The way everything feels. From the cars to the trains, to the way people talk, Jimin feels noticeably out of place.

But it’s also exciting as well, this strange feeling of being away from home in a big city, like anything is possible. It’s almost as if he’s an adventurer, and around every corner lies something new to discover. 

He’s been in meetings most the day, the results of which have turned out fairly well, and after that he was driven to the new hotel in a company car, given a suite at the top floor as one of its first official guests, since it’s technically not open yet. They’re going to come up with an offer to present to him after Christmas, and Jimin is going to say yes. 

He’s moving to Seoul. 

Kind of. He’ll still go between Seoul and Busan if he wants. 

Or it can be permanent. 

He needs to talk to Jeongguk first. 

Fuck this is crazy.  

This is probably the biggest decision he’s ever had to make. 

When he gets back to his room he takes a quick shower, entering his bedroom in nothing but the soft robe that was hanging up for him, and turns on the TV as he grabs his phone off of the charger. He’s meant to return to Busan tomorrow, and even if it’s short notice, he wants to surprise Jeongguk. See if he can meet him while he’s here. 

If not, they’ll see each other in a little less than two weeks. 

What are you doing right now?

The text goes through, and Jimin sits on the edge of the bed as he waits for a response, running a hand through the damp strands of his dark hair, absently listening to what sounds like a gossip news channel about celebrities filtering in from the television.

“—the two were spotted hand in hand near the exclusive restaurant as it opened up this weekend, with Kim Mina said to be good friends with the owner. Her fiance of nearly two years; CEO and founder of the brand Golden, Jeon Jeongguk—”

Jimin’s eyes fly to the screen, lips parting as his heart drops into his stomach, fingers clenching into the duvet, desperate for something to hold onto. 

There, on the TV, is a picture of Jeongguk— his Jeongguk —holding hands with a woman.

“—is rumored to be searching for locations to expand his business with Busan as being the place of interest. The two are said to be married next year.”

Married.

Next year.  

Engaged for nearly two years.

“Oh fuck.”

Jimin is nauseous, and he runs back to the bathroom when he feels like he’s going to be sick. 

He’s been unknowingly helping a man cheat on his fiance for the better part of a year—

Jimin loses his lunch, sweat beading at his brow and lower back as he heaves, the sounds echoing around him, morphing into a sob as he tries to get ahold of himself. 

How could he be so stupid? How could he not know? Not only was he fucking a man already in a relationship, but apparantly he’s a CEO as well?

Who the hell has he been seeing all this time? What else did he lie about?

Jeongguk’s words float back to him about what he said in regards to his company, phrasing it as if that weren’t the case, like it was a startup that he was helping get off the ground and expand. 

He should've—should have asked more questions. Not once did Jimin question him on anything. Not once did he dig deeper, content to just let things happen as they did, still not convinced that they would last, and because of that he never allowed himself to get invested in the details of Jeongguk’s life, which is what the man clearly wanted, seeing as how he was lying about it. About everything.

He’s just as much to blame for this.

When Jimin is sure he’s not going to be sick again, he gets up numbly, washing out his mouth and brushing his teeth until his tongue and gums feel raw, nearly tripping back to the bed, the TV still on, playing some different program that he cares nothing about. He collapses back down onto the edge of the mattress again, reaching for his phone and pulling up Naver. 

For the first time, he searches up Jeon Jeongguk, stomach roiling again when it brings up picture after picture of him and Kim Mina, his childhood friend and fiance. She’s an heiress, apparently, said to inherit her own luxury brand company after her grandfather passes—

She’s pretty. Gorgeous, actually…

Jeongguk is a fool.

As if the thought alone conjures him, Jimin jumps when his phone buzzes in his hand, a distressed noise leaving him when he sees the contact name.

Jeongguk 💜

Missing you, his text reads, while his doe-eyes stare happily out of the photos he’s taken with his fiance. 

Liar, he wants to say back, along with every manner of colorful names and insults that he’d like nothing better than to hurl at him.

He shuts off his phone instead. It’s his personal one anyways, and if anyone other than Jeongguk wants to get ahold of him they have his work number. 

After the initial shock, Jimin gets mad. He paces the room, biting his nails and having a one-sided argument as if Jeongguk himself were there with him and could hear every bitter word directed his way. 

But once the anger burns down to embers, then comes the breakdown, tears streaking over his cheeks, nearly turning on his phone again so he can cycle through all the pictures he has of Jeongguk. Of Jeongguk wrapped around him , their smiles wide and bright. 

He had the ability to put him at ease. To make him happy. 

Jimin had been well on his way to falling in love with him. 

And now he’s left with nothing but broken pieces and lies. 

🌨

“You sure about this?” Hoseok asks, gazing down at him from where Jimin sits in the salon chair, accompanying him and being his general support system, as he’s the only one who knows about …him .

“I’m sure,” he answers in a quiet monotone, staring at himself apathetically in the mirror.

He hasn’t turned his personal phone on in almost four days, hating that it makes him feel like a coward. He should’ve confronted Jeongguk by now. Given him a piece of his mind, or at the very least denounced his actions and put an end to whatever it is they were. 

Instead he’s chosen to hide, cut things off silently and pray that it all disappears, that he doesn’t have to face that time in his life again. It’s stupid, but it’s the only way he can get up in the morning. By pretending it never happened. 

Hoseok sighs.

“You know I’m all about bettering yourself and transformation, I just don’t want you to regret anything.”

“You think I won’t look good with silver hair?” 

“I know you’ll look good with silver hair, are you kidding? I just want you to be doing this for you.”

“I am,” Jimin swears. “I need a change, and this seemed more reasonable than tattooing my back.”

Hoseok stares at him with a pointedly raised brow as Jimin tries and fails not to smile.

“Don’t think I don’t know about the tattoo appointment you have tomorrow.”

“You are coming, aren’t you?”

“Ugh. I hate needles. But yes, for you I’ll bear it.”

“That’s why I love you.”

“I love you too, but maybe cool it on the major decision making for a while.”

Jimin hums noncommittally, the hairdresser mixing a bottle of dye in the background.

“Did you talk to Hana yet?”

“Yup,” he mutters, popping the ‘p’ as he smooths out the black smock that was placed over him.

“And? Were you able to cancel the lodge reservation?”

With a small sigh he shakes his head, trying not to cry and feeling ridiculous that that’s even a possibility. 

“Why not?” Hoseok asks, already offended on his behalf. 

“They said because it’s so close to the date and it was made with a voucher it wouldn’t be advisable to cancel, and it might not look good with the company.”

“Fuck the company,” Hoseok grumbles. “Maybe if you still wanted to move to Seoul it would be something to consider, but you don’t, so who cares what they think.”

Jimin shrugs, pulling at his fingers now. 

“It’s fine. I’m still going.”

“I don’t think so. Give it to me, I’ll go.”

But he’s already shaking his head at the suggestion, Hoseok staring at him through the mirror with wide eyes. 

“It’s Christmas, hyung, and I know you want to spend it with your family and Yoongi hyung. I’ll be okay. Promise. I’ll just stay in my room.”

“Jimin-ah—”

“We ready?” the hairdresser asks, and Jimin eagerly nods, nose scrunching at the smell of strong chemicals, his eyes tracking the way Hoseok sighs in the mirror.  

🌨

The drive up to the lodge feels like what Jimin imagines a slow walk to the gallows would. It’s not snowing like it was last time, cutting his drive considerably as his visibility is a lot better. When he finally parks, there’s no white dusting the ground, and despite the cold—making him shiver when he reluctantly gets out—everything looks remarkably…not winter-like. 

Wheeling his suitcase towards the entrance, the Douglas Firs decorated in lights again and making Jimin want to throw something, he looks left and right, eyes jumping from spot to spot, as if fearing an ambush. 

It’s warm inside, a fire crackling away in the hearth, the Christmas tree in the corner decorated exactly the same, and Jimin feels a strong sense of deja vu, as if he never left—

He shakes himself out of his reverie and makes it to the front desk, the only other occupant of the huge lobby the man behind it, the late hour ensuring that the place is deserted. 

“Good evening, sir. Checking in?”

“Yes please. I should have a room reserved under Park Jimin.”

He types it into his computer, nodding when he finds it as he prepares Jimin’s keycards, and he can’t help his curiosity. 

“Has it snowed yet?”

The man shakes his head, scanning the barcodes. 

“No, not yet. It’s a lot warmer than it was last year, people can’t even ski, and the national park is still open. It usually isn’t during these months. Global warming,” he sighs, and Jimin hums in agreement, a sadness filling him as he stares out the dark windows. 

“I have a suite on the seventh floor ready for you. Would you like me to have your bags delivered?”

He almost wants to ask for a different floor, but swallows down the urge, shaking his head in answer to his question. 

“That won’t be necessary, I think I’m just going to go up now,” he mumbles, eyes moving back towards the front entrance before shooting towards the elevator, a cough bringing his attention back around, embarrassed when he sees that the man is holding out his keycards. 

“Thank you,” Jimin murmurs, glancing at the room number, relieved that it’s different this time. 

“It’ll be on your right once you exit the elevator.”

Jimin bows his head in gratitude and walks quickly to the lift, eyeing the stone fireplace before his gaze inevitably slides down to the couch he shared with Jeongguk last year. Mentally berating himself, he shakes his head and keeps going, sighing in relief when the elevator doors slide open to reveal no one inside. 

The trip up is nerve-wracking, and when he makes it to the seventh floor Jimin feels his heart clench at the familiar hallway, noting everything is as it once was. Leaving the elevator, he’s quiet on his feet as he takes a right, suitcase rolling behind him. He has a corner suite this time, and Jimin doesn’t breathe easy until he’s inside, the door clicking shut and the lock engaging behind him. 

There’s this urge to walk around the hotel, to retrace the steps he took the previous year and visit every location that holds a memory with Jeongguk. To go back down to the lobby and sit in front of the hearth on the same couch they shared with the same blanket. To visit the temple across the pond, or the restaurant they ate at afterwards. To traverse the length of the pool and check out the bowling alley, or even to walk by Jeongguk’s old room, where they first became intimate—

But he won’t be there. 

Jimin doesn’t want him to be there. 

Doesn’t want to confront why he can’t see him again. 

He tries to distract himself, though this time he didn’t bring a book that'll hold his attention. He didn’t really bring …anything , besides clothes. So he turns on the TV, putting it on a variety show in the hopes that it’ll lighten his mood. 

Throat tight, and unsure why he does it, Jimin calls down to the front desk, requesting that a hot chocolate with extra marshmallows be sent to his room. When it arrives, he nearly cries as he drinks it down, hating himself for becoming emotional over a stupid cup of hot chocolate, wanting to be over this part of heart ache.

Vision blurry due to his tears, he brushes his teeth, changes into comfortable clothes, sets his empty hot chocolate marshmallow encrusted mug outside in the hall to be picked up, and turns everything off but the TV, allowing the laughter to lull him to sleep.

🌨

Jimin wakes up disoriented, taking a second to gather his bearings and remember where he is, still exhausted and wondering what pulled him from sleep when he hears the door’s buzzer. 

Groaning as he slides out of bed, Jimin makes his way out of the bedroom and into the living area, shuffling towards the entryway, sure that must be housekeeping, as he forgot to put up the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign, and opens the door with squinting eyes, the hallway lights bright.

He’s pulled into someone’s arms, and Jimin instantly tenses, recognizing them immediately, along with the fresh linen scent that Jeongguk has always carried. He stands there immobile, lip quivering as he mentally orders himself not to cry again, and to keep his arms firmly at his sides rather than making any form of contact with the other.

“God, Jimin, I’ve been so worried about you,” Jeongguk confesses near his ear, a tremor to his voice that makes the bottom drop out of his stomach. “I couldn’t get a hold of you. Your phone is off. Are you alright? Did something happen?”

As soon as Jeongguk pulls back and their eyes meet, Jimin’s world feels like it’s tearing itself apart right there, trapped in Jeongguk’s arms.

Eyes misting over, he tries to keep his voice level when he asks, “How did you find me?”

It’s not what he wants to say. Not what he should say, but it’s too late to take it back now. Jeongguk’s brow creases, his hands squeezing Jimin’s arms as if he can sense the distance he wants to put between them. 

“I saw the mug in the hall,” he murmurs in explanation, like the remnants of Jimin’s hot chocolate was all the confirmation he needed, and Jimin almost does cry then, feeling a strange grief come over him. 

Slowly, he takes a step back, unable to think with the younger man’s hands on him, and as they reluctantly slip away, Jimin gives a relieved sigh, barely able to linger on the look of hurt that flashes over Jeongguk’s beautiful face, the stars in his eyes dimming. Jimin’s gaze flies over the room instead, searching for something— anything— to help end this. They land on the clock hanging above the sofa in the living area, and he’s surprised to see that it’s just past three in the morning, his excuse ready on the tip of his tongue, knowing he's still not equipped to face this.

“It’s late,” Jimin mumbles, nervously carding his fingers through the now silver strands of his hair. “I’m tired,” he adds, mentally begging that Jeongguk gets the hint and leaves , but he simply stands there as if stricken, not moving an inch. 

Jimin is just about to urge him to go again when Jeongguk questions in a wavering tone, “What’s going on? Did I do something to make you suddenly ghost me? Why are you being so cold?”

The way his voice cracks at the end almost has Jimin hating himself, but then he remembers that he was the one who was wronged. That he’s the one who has every right to be angry and upset and hurt. 

He shrugs, trying to muster that anger now to keep him from breaking down as he desperately attempts to keep his voice devoid of emotion. 

“Who’s Kim Mina?”

Those doe-eyes get even wider, cupid’s bow lips parting in shock, and that’s really all the answer Jimin needs. 

“Get out.”

“Wait—”

“You’re engaged, ” he huffs through gritted teeth, the volume of his voice rising even as he tries to calm himself, retreating deeper into his room with Jeongguk following. “You used me to cheat on your fiance!”

“Jimin, it’s not like that, just let me explain—”

“Explain what?” He demands, turning back around to confront him, that anger he so greatly needed coming through, helping to keep him from crying, but his control is still slipping away. “Nothing you could possibly say can make this okay.”

“How did you—how did you find out?”

Jeongguk seems to realize that’s not the right thing to say when he sees Jimin’s expression morphing into one of outrage, but he can't unsay it now.

“Are you serious? You want to know how I figured out you’ve been lying all this time?”

A wince takes over Jeongguk's features, but still he doubles down on whatever this line of questioning is. 

“Did you search me?”

“No, I didn’t search you,” Jimin practically yells, unable to calm down even as his mind tries to warn him that he might have neighbors, and the walls are ridiculously thin. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“How did you hear I was engaged then?”

“Are you seriously blaming me for finding out?”

“No, Jimin—”

“It was a stupid gossip news story about you and her visiting some restaurant. There! Are you happy now?”

But Jeongguk only looks more confused, as if he knows something Jimin doesn’t.

“Those stories only air in Seoul,” he whispers, eyes fixed on him, and he feels it when his heart rises up into his throat to choke him, beyond vulnerable as Jeongguk asks, “What were you doing in Seoul, Jimin?”

He isn’t a violent person, and he would never lay his hands on anyone in anger, but all he wants to do at that moment is force Jeongguk out of his hotel room. 

“I can’t believe you—”

“Your last text to me was ‘what are you doing right now.’ You were in Seoul, weren’t you, and then you saw that report, right? What were you doing in Seoul?” he presses, as if he has any right to. As if it’s any of his business, and he says just that.

“You think I owe you an explanation after what you did? Like it matters anymore why I was there?”

“It matters,” he insists, like a fucking broken record that he can’t get to stop playing. He just wants it to stop. “Jimin—”

“I was interviewing for a job transfer, okay!”

It’s quiet in the aftermath of his outburst, something hot and wet sliding down Jimin’s cheek that he doesn’t want to confront, Jeongguk’s own eyes tracking it as it clings to his jaw before it falls. He doesn’t want to say anymore, just wants this conversation to be done with, wants them to be done with, but it seems that now words tumble forth unbidden, like water from a punctured receptacle.  

“I was so fucking tired of doing long distance and missing you all the time,” he spits out like the idea is abhorant to him now. “I was stupid enough to think we had something that was worth uprooting my life for and I wanted to surprise you, only to be the one surprised when I learned that I was nothing more than someone for you to fuck on the side—”

Jeongguk moves in, arms out as if he wants to catch Jimin as he falls apart like shattered glass, but he moves away quickly, the glare Jimin sends stopping him in his tracks, and Jeongguk’s arms fall limply at his sides. 

“You’re not—you were never just someone on the side,” he tries, but Jimin doesn’t want to hear it. He can’t. “Please, if you’d just let me explain—”

“Explain what? How you’ve been engaged for nearly two years and been fucking me quietly for one? Explain how you just neglected to mention that you have a childhood sweetheart, or that you’re the CEO of that starter company you told me you were working for?”

Jeongguk grimaces again at being caught in another lie, and it makes Jimin vindictive. 

“What, you didn’t want me going after you for hush money to keep your dirty affair quiet?”

“Don’t—don’t talk about it like that, please. That wasn’t the reason.”

“Right. I believe you,” he hisses sarcastically, hating that he still feels guilt when it looks as if Jeongguk is going to cry now. 

Jimin can’t see that. He can’t. 

“Get out.”

But Jeongguk looks up at him as if he wasn’t expecting that, as if he still thought he could fix this somehow or convince him otherwise, voice breaking when he says his name, and Jimin hates that he hates himself for making him look so broken. 

“Get. Out.” he repeats, resorting to threats. “Before I call security.”

The stars in Jeongguk's eyes die out as he nods weakly, tears brimming along his lids, beginning to fall as he turns back to the entryway and fumbles to get the door open, sobs threatening to wrack Jimin’s body as he goes.

He didn’t want to see him cry. 

Didn’t want to feel anything but his own misery and heartbreak. 

But he does. 

Why should he have to feel remorse at the sight of Jeongguk’s anguished expression? He's the one who lied. Why does he get to cry about it? And why does his tear-stained face haunt Jimin long after he's left.  

🌨

The hours pass slowly, Jimin hiding out in his room, too terrified about the prospect of running into Jeongguk somewhere in one of the hotel’s many hallways, sure that he’ll be around every corner, ready to bring Jimin low again. Instead, he orders room service during the rare occurrences his stomach protests, or whenever he has a craving for comfort food. 

Inside his suite is cold, the bedroom being the only place he’s turned the heating on, and even though the temperature has dropped, outside his windows reveals it still hasn’t snowed. 

He wants to go home, where the storms of Busan would match his mood.

Instead, Jimin is stuck here, watching a Christmas movie of all things. One of those cringey romantic ones that are unremarkable and unmemorable, chewing away at one of the cheeseballs he had room service deliver to him, uncaring about all the fees he’s incurring.

He stares apathetically as the male romantic lead pulls the female playing opposite him into his arms, the two colliding with force, the filmmaker deciding to repeat the shot three different times from three different angles before he passionately proclaims, "I just want to spend the rest of my life with you."

"Snake," Jimin hisses, going to throw his cheeseballs at the screen, and then thinking better of it.

Then he cries, because Jeongguk has a snake tattoo and he feels like an idiot.

He's an absolute mess, so of course there's a knock on the door and it’s then that he realizes he still hasn’t put up his 'Do Not Disturb' sign. Housekeeping usually does rounds during this hour.

A groan escapes him, and Jimin is careful not to knock over his container of cheeseballs as he makes his way out into the living area and towards the entryway, pausing mid step as he passes the mirror that hangs near the hall. 

Both his hands and lips are stained orange, and there are obvious tear-tracks over his flushed face.

"Just a second," he calls, quickly moving to the bathroom sink to clean himself up, drying off with a towel and running back to the door, shivering in the cold as he opens it.

A beautiful woman stands on the other side, Jimin's eyes widening when he recognizes her immediately.

That's Jeongguk's fiance. He should know, he looked her up as soon as he saw the news story in Seoul, and spent countless hours feeling inadequate in comparison as he stared at her pictures and learned of her background.

What is he when compared to her?

If she's here she knows about the affair, but maybe she doesn't know Jimin's unwitting part in it. Maybe she's here to threaten him, or to try and beat him up—

He wouldn't blame her.

"May I come in?" She asks calmly, composed, and Jimin is almost afraid to be alone with her, but he tensely nods in answer, holding the door open wide so that she can slip past. 

When he sees that she shivers as well, even in her expensive looking wool coat, he moves to turn on the heat in the rest of the suite, wrapping his arms around his robe-covered waist, plagued with a newly familiar feeling of inadequacy while in her presence. 

“You know who I am.”

It isn’t a question. 

Slowly, Jimin nods again, but feels the need to clarify.

“Though I’ve only found out about you recently.”

She hums, motioning towards the settee.

“May I sit?”

“O-Of course.”

She takes a seat, and Jimin does the same, lowering himself down into the armchair across from her, trying not to obviously fidget.

“I’ve heard many things about you, Park Jimin,” she starts, remaining poised, and her lack of anger makes him anxious.

“Jeongguk told you about me?” he asks incredulously, trying not to show how painful it is to even mention him. 

“He did,” she reveals. “He spoke rather fondly of you, and Jeongguk is not fond of many people. Trust me, I’ve known him most of his life.”

A frown crosses over his features, unsure of what she’s getting at. 

“Okay,” he murmurs, clearly confused. “Did he put you up to this?” 

Whatever this is.

She gives a shake of her head, revealing, “Jeongguk doesn’t even know I’m here right now.”

“Then…how did you find me?”

A small smile graces her red painted lips before she looks down, folding her hands over her lap. 

“I bribed the man at the front desk,” Mina admits without shame, and Jimin makes a mental note to have him fired. 

“Forgive me,” she carries on, unaware of the mental turmoil she’s caused. “I came here as soon as Jeongguk confided in me this morning. He was inconsolable, told me what happened between the two of you, and I knew I needed to come here to try and explain.”

“Explain,” he wonders. “What is there for you to explain?”

Unless...do they have an open relationship? Does she think that makes it okay that he wasn't informed? That he was lied to—

“Like I said, Jeongguk and I have known each other all our lives. He’s my closest and dearest friend.”

Okay.

She takes a deep breath, pulling at her coat before continuing as if she's confessing to something she isn't entirely comfortable with.

“So…when I asked the impossible of him, of course he said yes, because that’s just the kind of person he is, putting others before himself.”

“What do you mean you asked the impossible?”

“Two years ago, my inheritance came under question,” Mina confesses, still appearing visibly upset about it. “I don’t know how much you know of me, but my grandfather built his own company that amassed his fortune, and as his only surviving heir, it was supposed to pass to me, but then, well…”

She shrugs, a small self-deprecating smile seeming to take over her ruby lips. 

“Let’s just say he discovered me in a…compromising situation, and I was given an ultimatum. Find a man to marry myself off to, one who was successful in his own right, and who could enrich me further, or lose the entirety of my inheritance. I didn’t want to care, but I’ve poured everything I have into that company, and regrettably, I wasn’t ready to give it up.”

Jimin’s heart beats faster in his chest, a caged bird trapped against his ribs as he begins to suspect where this is going. 

“So, desperate and having no one else to turn to, I asked Jeongguk to lie for me and reveal it to no one. To pose as my betrothed with the promise that we just had to wait my grandfather out. He’d been diagnosed as terminally ill for some time, you see, and I knew—or at least I hoped—a long engagement with someone he approved of would appease him. He passed away almost a week ago.”

“Oh, I’m—I’m so sorry,” Jimin offers somewhat awkwardly, still reeling from the story she’s telling, thoughts flying past too fast for him to catch.

“Don’t be. I went to the reading of his will and he did leave everything to me in the end like I knew he would, not wanting his legacy to be passed to someone outside of the family, and my only regret is that I didn’t stand my ground on who I am. That I instead created a farce and dragged Jeongguk into it for the sake of myself.”

She sighs, pulling out her phone from her purse and waking it, holding the picture lockscreen out for Jimin to see. 

“This is my partner,” she says, revealing a picture of her kissing the cheek of another woman, the pose intimate. “The one my grandfather caught me with. We’ve been together for five years.”

“Oh,” he whispers, feeling as if that bird in his chest has escaped entirely, the world falling out from beneath his feet.  

“This whole charade has been really hard on her. Having to see the stories and the articles while I arranged for Jeongguk and I to make appearances to solidify the lie. I’ve never felt more selfish.”

Jimin wonders if this is the first time she’s admitting to it, that she feels like she can to someone she doesn’t know but is somehow involved, aware that Jimin won’t placate her in an attempt to make her feel better. 

And he doesn't, too stunned as he listens.

“I tried to convince myself it was harmless. Jeongguk wasn’t involved with anyone when all this started, and he assured me he wouldn’t become involved with anyone for the duration, nor was he missing out on anything because he was so consumed by his own company, hating that people only seemed interested in him for his money and ambition. So I allowed the lie to drag on for so long, and I know I shouldn’t have. I know I have a lot of apologies to make, but I wanted one of my first to be to you, for ruining what I did. It’s my fault that you’re both suffering now. I’m so sorry.”

It’s quiet after that, Jimin’s eyes stuck to the wood floors, tracing the lines in the planks like they’ll offer him some kind of clarity. 

“Before I go, I just—I wanted to show you this.”

Again she holds out her phone in offering, and Jimin takes it, having to read over the article headline twice before he understands. 

Long time sweethearts Kim Mina and Jeon Jeongguk put an end to their almost two year engagement after patriarch Kim Minseo's funeral, citing reasons that the family needs time to grieve. 

“There will be more articles that finalize the separation in later days, but this is the start. I really just want you to know how sorry I am for dragging your relationship into this. It’s my fault Jeongguk lied. He did it because I begged him to, and he only wanted to protect me, so I thought it would be best if I explained that to you myself.”

She bows to him, and Jimin can’t even stand to follow her out as she takes her phone back and leaves his room, the sound of the door clicking shut far too loud in the quiet.  

What—what just happened?

Is this a hoax? A joke? Is it real?

Would he be a fool for caring either way?

Would he be a fool if he didn’t?

Gaining his feet, Jimin travels back to the bedroom where his suitcase rests at the bottom of the closet, still unpacked, and he searches the small compartment for stowing away electronics, pulling out the personal phone he shut off after finding out, but still felt compelled to bring.

He turns it on, plugging it into the charger when he sees how low the battery is while it vibrates in his hand with countless alerts of missed calls and text messages, the vast majority of them from Jeongguk.

With shaking hands, he opens them.

Jimin?

Are you okay? Did your phone die?

I’ve tried calling you a couple of times, just want to see if you’re okay.

Please call me when you get this.

Or text. Either or really.

I’m really worried about you. Hope you’re okay.

I miss you.

Jimin thumbs through the rest of them, unable to look, his heart breaking all over again with each word. But the last one, sent only a few hours ago, is what makes the tears start to fall from his eyes. 

We never saw the first snow together, but I fell in love with you all the same, and foolishly wished for forever.

🌨

Jimin paces his room, the opulent suite suddenly feeling small, it’s four walls caging him in. He needs space, and fresh air to think, not wanting to keep picking his phone up with the intent to call Jeongguk, only to stop short, at a loss as to what to say. 

He said such horrible things. Awful things. And there’s been so many lies and misunderstandings between them, no matter how well-intentioned they may have been. 

Jimin leaves his room, half hoping and half dreading that Jeongguk will be waiting for him on the other side of his door once he does.

He isn’t, and Jimin’s heart sinks as he rides the elevator down to the lobby, the fire nearly dying out in the stone hearth. 

The cold air that hits him once he makes it outside feels like a slap to the face, lungs aching as he takes in a deep breath, nose going numb along with the tops of his ears. The discomfort clears his mind, and Jimin welcomes it as he takes in another deep breath, savoring the freshness of the air, his eyes traveling towards the pond and the shrine beyond. 

It looks different when it’s not covered in snow, and Jimin begins to walk in that direction, approaching the bridge and trying to ignore the spectre-like memory of him and Jeongguk colliding on it a year ago.

When he makes it across, Jimin takes a moment to gather himself, the gentle sounds of water lapping at the shore soothing him, steps measured as he finally moves towards the beautiful building. 

And there, standing in the same spot as Jimin remembers, as if conjured up from his mind, is Jeongguk, somehow even more beautiful than when last he stood there. 

But when their eyes meet this time, the younger immediately turns away, both hurt and shame readable in his expression before he awkwardly coughs, keeping his gaze on the ground. 

“Sorry, I’ll just—”

And without anything further, he moves quickly past Jimin, giving him a wide berth as he goes to leave, as if he wasn't here first and has every right to be.

Jimin speaks before he fully thinks it through, almost like the more emotional side of him can’t bear the thought of him going. 

“Kim Mina,” he calls, not really sure where he’s going with this, but as he turns to look, Jeongguk has stopped in his tracks, tentatively shifting to face him again, his doe-eyes wider than usual, and that’s really all that Jimin wants. 

To keep him here a little longer. 

“She came to see me.”

Those eyes become even wider, lips parting, and Jimin knows his surprise is genuine, mouth opening and closing while he searches for the right words. 

“She did?”

Jimin nods. 

“What did—what did she say?”

“She said your engagement was a farce so that she wouldn’t be disinherited, and that you helped her.”

“Oh.”

Jeongguk fiddles with his hands, clearly uncomfortable, but Jimin wants to hear it from him now. Needs to hear it from him.

“Is that true? Did you promise to put your life on hold so that she wouldn’t lose everything?”

Their eyes meet again, and Jeongguk releases his hands back down to his sides when he answers, sounding defeated. 

“I just wanted to help.”

He says it like it was the logical course of action. Like anyone would go so far for a friend, and maybe they would, but it still feels so…selfless.

“You didn’t say anything,” Jimin states, not meaning to accuse, but it is what it is.

“I wanted to,” Jeongguk swears, almost imploring, “but I promised her I wouldn’t. I promised,” he emphasizes, as if his word is all he has, repeating, “I just wanted to help. I didn’t think I would end up hurting anyone.”

Jimin nods at that, believing him before he remembers something.

"When you visited me in Busan, you said you wanted to talk to me while we were here. What about?"

"I wanted to tell you about everything," Jeongguk admits. "Mina's grandfather was dying, and our situation was coming to an end. Before I asked you to be with me—to really be with me—I was going to tell you everything, I swear."

Jimin sighs, turning back to sit on the steps of the shrine, patting the spot next to him in an invitation for Jeongguk to join if he wants, and he does, though he’s cautious, providing enough space between them when he sits. 

Together they rest in silence, only the sounds of nature accompanying them, and for a moment Jimin is loath to break the peace of it, terrified of what comes next, of his own need to be honest. Releasing a heavy exhale before he begins. 

“When you first expressed your interest to me in keeping up our relationship long distance, I was positive it wouldn’t amount to anything. That we wouldn’t last.”

Jeongguk takes in a shuddering breath, as if Jimin is cutting into him, and he rushes to reassure that that isn’t his intention. 

“I’m only saying this because I want to admit to my own shortcomings. In the beginning, I thought we were just one of those whirlwind romances that would peter off once we weren’t in the same vicinity. That we would die off quietly, the conversations becoming stilted and awkward. But even after I was proven wrong, it seems I was content to not show interest in your life. To ask about your friends, or your job. Maybe if I did, things would’ve unfolded differently. I didn’t even ask about your social media,” he laughs, feeling ridiculous. “I guess it’s because I gave up on us before we even started.”

“Jimin—”

“It’s true,” he insists, not wanting Jeongguk to try and make him feel better in that trademark way he has. “I was content to let you do most of the work. To reach out to me, come to Busan to see me , not once ever offering to do the same in the year leading up to this. Because, honestly, I was afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

“Afraid of how much I knew it would tear me apart when I lost you.”

His eyes mist over with that voiced-confession, nearly crying when Jeongguk makes a sharp, cut-off noise in the back of his throat, unconsciously scooting closer before he forces himself still. 

“It’s like I knew I couldn’t keep you, so I distanced myself as much as I could, and didn’t even make the effort to know you. Your past, your background, your friends, your family, job, anything. I didn’t want to, because you were already so perfect to me I couldn’t take knowing anymore about you only to have you disappear from my life. I don’t want to make excuses, and I’m so sorry if I ever made you feel like you didn’t matter.”

“Jimin,” Jeongguk tries again, decisively closing the distance between them. "I honestly don't know why you're apologizing. None of this is your fault. I’m the one who dragged you into this. I knew a year ago that I shouldn’t get involved with anyone when I couldn’t be completely honest, and I thought that was an easy sacrifice to make. But then I met you,” he whispers, voice slightly wavering at the edges, and Jimin’s heart breaks when their eyes meet. “I met you and I was selfish, didn’t want to let you slip through my fingers, and thought that I could keep you and that part of my life seperate. That I could wait it out long enough to be with you completely. This is all on me, and I'm so sorry.”

“I didn’t even let you explain.”

“If our positions were switched I wouldn’t’ve let you explain either. Or if I did, I doubt I would've believed you.”

Jeongguk can’t know that for certain, but still he’s trying to make Jimin feel better, and Kim Mina’s words echo in his mind. 

That’s just the kind of person he is.

What do we do now, he wants to ask. Where do we go from here?  

But instead he tentatively grabs Jeongguk’s hand, nearly crying in gratitude when he interlaces their fingers together, and Jimin quietly admits, “I understand why you did what you did. I even think it's admirable that you would go to such lengths to help someone you care about."

"Really?"

Jimin hums. "I can even understand why you didn't want to tell me about your company, and I gave you no opportunities to talk about it after our initial discussion."

"I liked that about you," Jeongguk admits, face somber. "In Seoul, it's all anyone wants to talk to me about, even people who feigned interest in me. In the end, all they wanted to know was how much money I was making. So I was selfish," he murmurs, turning to look directly into Jimin's eyes. "With you, I knew you didn't care about all of that. You saw me, and wanted me for my own merits."

"Want," Jimin corrects, overly emotional. "I still want you. Don’t want to lose you.”

The experience of finally being honest with his feelings is like a weight off of his shoulders, heart breaking all over again when Jeongguk sniffles.

"You do?"

Jimin nods emphatically, hating how surprised he sounds. 

"I do."

Pressing their foreheads together, Jeongguk replies, “I don’t want to lose you either. God, it killed me when I thought I did.” 

They stay like that for some time, just breathing each other in, until Jimin feels a soft tug on a strand of his hair, looking up at Jeongguk’s bright, star-filled eyes, twinkling back at him.

“I didn’t get a chance to tell you, but I’m a fan of the silver.”

Jimin laughs wetly, bumping their noses together in elation when he says, “Wait till you see the tattoo on my back.”

He laughs again when Jeongguk’s mouth falls, only to go quiet when something wet touches his cheek, gaze shifting towards the sky, where little white flakes drift towards the ground. 

“It’s snowing,” he says in awe, Jeongguk’s own voice following quietly. 

“The first snow.”

They look at each other, affection mirrored in their features, and Jimin’s breath hitches in his throat, overwhelmed that they got to see this together, after the discussion they’ve had. 

God, he wants forever with this man.

Jeongguk’s hand runs through his dyed hair, and Jimin’s own thumb strokes over his cheek. 

“Jimin-ah?”

“Hmm?”

“Merry Christmas.”

He smiles, once annoyed by the phrase, but everything sounds sweet coming from Jeongguk’s mouth and he returns the sentiment. 

“Merry Christmas Jeongguk-ah.”

🌨

ONE YEAR LATER

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Jeongguk huffs, bending over to place a hand on his knees and Jimin can’t help but roll his eyes. 

“Stop being so dramatic, you’re gonna ruin the flowers.” 

Immediately he straightens back up again, not wanting to crush the bouquet of lilies he insisted on getting for Jimin's mother and father, though to his credit he does look a bit pale, and Jimin tries to set him at ease. 

“I already told you they’re going to love you.”

“I’m the reason their baby is no longer in Busan.”

“Only for six months out of the year. The other six you’re here with me. They can’t complain.”

The two of them had synced up their schedules so that Jimin was in Seoul with Jeongguk, working with the new hotel while Jeongguk tended to the main headquarters of his company Golden, and the other six months he works from Busan, managing the new location. 

They’ve just returned from Seoul to greet the new year in Busan, time flying by up there as Jeongguk showed Jimin around the city, allowing himself to become fully immersed in Jeongguk’s life, to meet his own parents, and have many dinner parties with Kim Mina and her partner Suho.

He’s already planned a dinner with both Hoseok and Yoongi, the latter practically yelling in shock when Jimin retold the entire story behind the fake engagement. 

“Are you ready?”

“No.”

“Jeongguk.”

“Just kiss me.”

Jimin raises a brow at him, trying not to shiver on his parents porch as they argue over ringing the bell. 

“What? There’s mistletoe,” Jeongguk huffs, pointing towards the awning. “Isn't that a Christmas thing?”

Jimin shakes his head, but pulls him in all the same, secretly finding his nervousness cute. He kisses him silly, trying to make him forget all about his anxiousness over meeting his parents, somehow getting it stuck in his pretty head that they won’t fall in love with him just as quickly as Jimin did.

As if that's even a remote possibility.

“Are you ready now?”

“Almost," Jeongguk promises, pulling him in closer and bumping their noses together. "Happy anniversary sweetheart.”

Jimin’s heart melts, and he beams at his boyfriend, kissing him again for good measure. 

“Happy anniversary baby.”

With that, he finally rings the bell, the two of them deciding that instead of escaping Christmas this year, they’ll embrace it.