Chapter Text
How the hell could I get that song out of my head?
It was the thought that kept running through Jimin's mind. Of course, it was accompanied by the catchy—and unwanted—cotton-candy melody of the latest song from a popular K-pop group. He wasn't exactly a fan of that style of music, but Taehyung, his best friend, was an avid follower of the entertainment world. So, as soon as he arrived that day, Taehyung had put on the song, which according to him, was a hit from the latest girl group of a big agency. And since then, Jimin couldn’t stop humming it, even if he wanted to.
"Table six is ready!" he announced as he finished putting the final touches on the decoration of the last two dishes for that table. It was a perfect dessert, made by the very devil who had brought that music into his kitchen: a creamy peach and saffron semifreddo, with layers of pistachio crumble. It turns out that Kim Taehyung, or V as he liked to be called in the kitchen for speed, was one of the best pastry chefs around. Jimin was completely biased, of course, but that didn’t change the fact that his colleague cooked like an angel.
That day had been an especially exhausting shift. Jimin was grateful that their restaurant was packed with diners, but at the same time, damn, his feet hurt. He couldn’t wait to get to his apartment, take off his shoes, greet Mimi, and have a nice hot bath; just before collapsing into bed and resting soundly until the next shift.
"Table ten!" he shouted again, and after handing the plates to the waitstaff, he turned to look at the other chefs in the kitchen.
"Alright, guys, this is the last table."
He read from the screen what the last diners had ordered. They had been the last to arrive, and now they were just getting to their main course.
"...and a plate of Scallops with Szechuan Peppercorn Sauce and roasted vegetables," he concluded as he reached for his water bottle.
He loved his job. He enjoyed the adrenaline just before a service started, the creativity required to put together a new menu from scratch, and the calm that came with calculating costs and budgets. As the executive chef of Filter, he had those responsibilities and a bit more. With a heart overflowing because of that, and a tired body, he finished the service alongside the others, finally able to take a breather well past midnight.
“Great work, guys!” he said to the others with a smile, while they finished cleaning up or gathering their things to leave.
“Thanks, chef,” some responded.
He was walking straight to his office when Taehyung and Yoongi joined him. Yoongi was his sous chef and another close friend, so it wasn’t unusual for the three of them to head to Jimin’s office at the end of their day, sometimes to have a beer or simply to talk, rest their feet, and keep each other company before shutting down and closing up until the next day.
The three of them would be back at 4 p.m. the next day.
“I swear my neck is killing me,” Yoongi muttered as he grabbed three beers from the small fridge Jimin kept beside his desk.
“It’s because our boss is a tyrant, I swear,” Taehyung joked, taking one of the beers for himself and passing the other to Jimin.
“He just needs a boyfriend. Or to get laid. Either one.”
Jimin narrowed his eyes while gently swiveling his chair from side to side in a slow, steady motion.
"This tyrant is the one who pays you monthly, so you should respect me more."
"We should also go to a club on our next day off, which is—"
"Go to a club on a Monday? It'll be you and like ten other people," Yoongi interrupted, his cat-like eyes showing amusement.
"Not in Itaewon, idiot. Come on, we should dress up and go out to pick up girls —and guys," he added, looking at Jimin and winking.
"You do know I like girls too, right?" Jimin said, smiling sideways and raising an eyebrow.
"But you'll be focused on the guys more than the girls. And if you're focused on them, it leaves more for me and Yoongi. We're giving you a bigger playing field because God knows you need it."
"God knows that even if I decided to indulge in your ridiculous insinuations that I need sex," he pointed at them with the end of the bottle, "I can't next Monday."
"But it's your day off," Taehyung said in a childish voice, pouting, which made Jimin laugh.
"We have a private event that day, so I'll be here."
"Why didn’t you tell us?" Yoongi said, placing his empty bottle on the table. "We can take Tuesday or any other day off instead."
Jimin quickly shook his head.
"Don't worry, I have everything covered. Besides, I know you're tired, so go and have all the women at the bar to yourselves. We'll see if they even give you the time of day, though."
Jimin was joking. His friends were two of the most handsome men he had ever seen, and he told them that often, so it was no surprise they didn’t take him seriously.
"But Jiminie..."
"I repeat," he said again as he stood up, "I’ll be fine. It’s not a lot of people, and I already have most of the menu ready. It's just about twenty people."
"And who's going to make the desserts?"
Jimin rolled his eyes.
"I'm not as good as you, darling, but I can manage. Seriously, I'd rather you take your day off, rest, and then cover for me on Tuesday, because I’ll definitely spend the whole day sleeping while the shift goes on here."
"If you put it that way..." Taehyung started, "but we could take turns and—"
"Tae, take it as an order, if necessary," Jimin responded. "You need a day off, and I need my kitchen running smoothly every day of the week. And we all know hyung can't make a decent dessert to save his life."
The oldest didn’t hesitate to nod. There was no way to refute that statement. Yoongi was a very good chef, especially with Korean food, but desserts and he didn’t make a good pair. He was also great at keeping people in line, which was why he was Jimin’s sous chef.
"Now, with that out of the way, I think it’s time for us to head out."
"You’ve already got the menu ready then?" his hyung asked as they closed the office door just moments later.
"Yeah, it’s practically finished."
They began walking toward the exit.
"Whose event it is? You haven’t told us that," Taehyung said from his right.
"Calvin Klein is having a small gathering."
"Calvin K—Jimin!! You’re going to be surrounded by models, and you didn’t tell us?" Taehyung said, indignantly, and Jimin laughed.
"I don’t know if they’re models. Honestly, I don’t pay much attention to that."
"You should."
"I just know," Jimin continued, ignoring Yoongi’s comment, "that I’ve spoken several times with a brand representative, everything’s very official and all that, and I already have the menu ready."
"If you see Cha Eunwoo among the crowd, get me an autograph."
Jimin smacked the back of his pastry chef’s head as he opened the door to his car.
"You do know I have waiters, right? Now, it's a surprise to see Yoongi hyung's car here," Jimin remarked, glancing at the gray Hyundai parked nearby.
"I know!" Taehyung exclaimed, as if he'd been waiting for the opportunity to say something. "Let’s hope it survives until our outing on Monday."
"I should let you walk instead," muttered the car’s owner, whose vehicle seemed to require repairs at least three times a week lately.
"Come on, hyung," the pastry chef replied with a grin. "We’re just pointing out that your car visits the shop with... well, high frequency."
Laughing, he got into the vehicle. Taehyung and Yoongi lived about five minutes away from each other, so they usually went home together. Jimin, on the other hand, went solo, with just the music from his radio and his thoughts. And so, he started up his trusty companion and connected his phone’s Bluetooth. The last thing he needed was to turn on a radio station and, maybe—just maybe—hear the song he had been trying all night, and finally succeeded, to get out of his head.
Now, instead of the melody, Jimin’s brain was making an inventory of everything he needed for the menu for the upcoming event. He had designed a menu specifically for the occasion, considering the allergies and preferences of the attendees—information he had gotten from the woman who had been his point of contact.
For the appetizer, he had several options. He could make all of them with his eyes closed. First, on the house, he would present a curated selection of artisanal cheeses, olives, strawberry jam, and dried fruits, accompanied by toasted bread. With a good wine, it was the perfect combination.
On the menu, there would be several options. The first: Large mushrooms stuffed with a mixture of cheeses, breadcrumbs, garlic, and herbs. The other dish, and his favorite, consisted of delicate dumplings filled with foie gras and served with a soy-vinegar reduction. Modest as he was, his Michelin star should have been two if the designated inspectors had tried his dumplings.
Finally, the third option: Freshly diced tuna mixed with avocado, soy sauce, sesame oil, and served with crispy wontons. For a moment, he had considered cooking octopus, but if he was completely honest, he preferred not to.
"I think I have everything in the pantry," he murmured to himself as he stopped at one of the traffic lights near his apartment.
For the main course, he would need to buy fresh cherries to use in his first option: a pan-seared duck breast with a cherry reduction.
His diners could also choose an herb-crusted rack of lamb served with roasted vegetables, or a rich, flavorful miso-glazed salmon filet with jasmine rice. For dessert, however, he wouldn’t be too ambitious. He could hold his own, but he couldn’t compare to Taehyung or achieve the feats his friend could. He’d settle for making a good pannacotta with berry compote. That was it.
Unconsciously, he nodded as he let his thoughts drift for the rest of the drive home. When he arrived, he did exactly what he had imagined: greeted his cat, Mimi, took a long hot bath, and threw himself onto his very comfortable bed, ready to sleep as if in a coma for the next ten hours if he could.
Of course, he couldn’t do that, because he had a cat to feed, a restaurant to run, and he had to keep himself alive. On top of that, he had exactly four days to test the Calvin Klein event menu, see if anything needed to be changed, order supplies, and assess what the restaurant needed.
Jimin didn’t want anything to go wrong; he was too much of a perfectionist to bear it. But not only that, this event could expand his horizons even further. Day-to-day, they were doing exceptionally well, but they didn’t have many internationally recognized brands hosting events directly at the restaurant with a specialized menu, so this would set a precedent and add a new service to their portfolio.
On top of everything, just to please his mother, he had agreed to go on a blind date with a girl she had chosen. He loved his mother, and the woman would give her life without a second thought for Jimin—her only son—but at the same time, she was determined that he needed to go out, meet people, and bring a partner home for Christmas. She didn’t care if it was a boy or a girl, no, just that he wasn’t alone—her words. He had refused time and again, saying that his job kept him busy enough. But in the end, he agreed to go on one date, and if it didn’t work out, she would drop the subject. Jimin knew she would only stop for a while, but it was better than nothing.
"Yes, mom, I already know which restaurant we’re going to."
"Don’t you dare take her to yours, Jimin. You’ll be thinking about work the whole time."
He rolled his eyes, even though his mother couldn’t see him. She was right, of course.
"We’re going to a new restaurant that isn’t too fancy. Something more casual, you know? And maybe a movie if we get along."
"You definitely will," he heard the delight in his mother’s voice, while at the same time, he frowned, looking over the ingredients in his inventory that weren’t being used. He’d have to come up with a dish to use them up.
Maybe some sun-dried tomato cannelloni and—
"Are you coming home next month?"
"Yes. We’re celebrating Dad’s birthday, right?"
He heard his mother hum in agreement, so he continued.
"I was thinking of going two days earlier and having a family meal. I want to make you some dishes that are to die for. I’ve added them to the restaurant and—"
"Sweetheart, everything you cook is amazing. I was already counting on you making something spectacular, so I’ve let your brother know that we’re likely having a next-level dinner."
Jimin laughed, filled with love for his mother. Honestly, going on that date was the least he could do for her if it would make her happy. But after hanging up the phone, that wasn’t his priority at the moment. He was completely focused on creating dishes using ingredients from his pantry, noting down those he would stop ordering, and practicing the menu for Monday’s event. He would add some of the dishes to that day’s menu, eager to present his diners with varied options and evaluate which ones were better received than others.
He loved Filter, and every drop of sweat, blood, and tears went into it. Everything had to be as perfect as possible in his little kingdom.
It turns out that Monday wasn’t going as perfectly as it should have. If people around Jimin could see him, they’d surely notice smoke coming out of his ears.
One of his chefs got sick—he had already received both a reprimand for eating bad seafood and a sincere wish for a speedy recovery—and Jimin had to step in to cover him. He didn’t mind at all; he loved cooking and could handle the stress of overseeing the quality of all the dishes while executing several of them himself.
The problem was it wasn’t his mistake. Jimin had prepared a dish of chicken breast stuffed with almonds and apple, with a spice sauce that had turned out divine. The whole dish had been a work of art. But one diner had sent the plate back three times.
Three-fucking-times.
He had tasted every element and even asked others to do the same. No complaints, no mistakes. By the fourth time the waiter returned, the complaint was no longer about the dish, but about the staff itself. The man came back a bit flushed and informed Jimin that the customer wanted to speak with him.
Jimin hated those moments. Having to come out and face a scolding that, in this case, he didn’t deserve. It was one of the downsides of working in a kitchen—being responsible for your team and having to face complaints. He would do it, even if someone else had made a mistake.
Jimin sighed, cleaned his hands, and stepped out of the kitchen. He had paid special attention to the details when decorating the place, wanting something that would make people feel comfortable, yet still reflect a certain level of elegance and sophistication, just as his menu offered. He wanted a place that could be used to celebrate birthdays, first dates, 100-day anniversaries, job promotions, first interviews... any achievement one could think of.
The space was large, and he had decided the floor would be covered with a cobblestone design, and elegant streetlamps were placed at various points, providing additional lighting to the ceiling lights, which hung with just enough brightness so that neither source of light would compete with the other, but instead created a perfect harmony. Additionally, small shrubs and real flowers were used to adorn the place.
He had initially invested all the money he had, and over time they had added things, improved or stylized others. In the end, the result was exactly what he wanted: a restaurant that had the elegance and vintage style of a European-style street.
“Ladies,” he greeted as he approached the table where two women, one foreigner and the other one Korean, around 25 years old, were sitting, taking pictures of their drinks.
They looked at him, and he didn’t know what they were expecting, but one of their faces flushed as she quickly put away the device in her hand.
“I was told you wanted to speak with me, correct?”
He could feel a few eyes on him from around the room. It wasn’t common for the chef to leave the kitchen, and if they did, it was either for something really good or really bad.
“Uh, y-yes,” said the woman to his right, drawing his attention. “My dish isn’t as it should be.”
“Could you tell me what’s missing? Unfortunately, my waiters have come to the kitchen three times and haven’t been able to explain what the complaint is.”
"Your waiter is not treating us with the respect he should."
Jimin looked up and met the man’s eyes. He had been working with Jimin for nearly a year, and no one had ever complained about his attitude.
"I understand. I apologize for any inconvenience caused, but could you tell me exactly what the situation was?"
The same woman responded.
"We're at a restaurant in a very popular area of Seoul, yet your waiter doesn't speak English. My friend has sent her dish back several times, and he doesn't seem to understand why. I think you should have staff who speak English at least. He can't grasp basic vocabulary."
"Hmm," he nodded, and he could see the girl’s face take on a satisfied expression.
It was a shame Jimin didn’t believe in the saying that the customer is always right.
"You don't speak it?" he asked back.
"Excuse me?"
"You said you've had to send the dish back several times, and my staff doesn't understand. However, you and I are speaking perfectly fine in Korean. Did my waiter also not understand you?"
"I-I mean, you have a Michelin star. Shouldn't you treat those who come to your establishment better?"
"Our Michelin star comes from the quality of our food, not the language we speak."
He couldn't believe he was wasting time on this situation.
Simply ridiculous.
"While it’s true that it would be easier for your friend to express her dissatisfaction in her native language, you could have let us know more easily. Either way, I hope you enjoy the final product. We will take your suggestion into account for future occasions. Thank you for your input."
"Are you— I mean, could you—"
She seemed to be at a loss for words, and Jimin had to use all his willpower not to roll his eyes in front of them.
The pretentiousness of some people...
"The proper thing is for you to speak English," said the other woman, finally, in her native tongue.
"Your suggestion is appreciated," Jimin replied, his accent a bit more noticeable but still speaking perfectly understandable English. "We are in Korea. It would be good if you also try to speak the language; it adds value to your experience."
He gave a slight bow before turning around and starting to walk away. One of them would probably leave a bad review online. He didn’t care much. He would make sure to respond to the post as well.
As he returned to the kitchen, however, he decided to make a slight detour to the small room being used by the major American brand. Just a quick stop, to confirm that everything was going as it should.
He climbed the stairs to the second floor, which wasn’t really a complete floor but rather a very spacious balcony that could accommodate a maximum of 40 people. The second floor followed more or less the same decor, but the ceiling was a large skylight, allowing a view of the night sky, and one of the walls had a long window offering a view of the street in front of the restaurant.
For this occasion, it had only been necessary to prepare a long rectangular table for 20 people.
As he ascended, he checked to ensure his black uniform wasn’t a mess, and upon reaching the top, he saw one of his waiters, Kai, serving more wine to everyone.
"Good night," he said with a smile.
Mina, the woman who had been his contact throughout the entire process and whom he had met earlier that day, stood up and returned his smile as he approached a respectful distance from the table.
"Jimin-ssi. I'm so glad you're here. I've been meaning to tell you how delicious everything is," she gestured with her hands toward the entire table, wanting to emphasize her words. "I think some have already asked for seconds several times."
Jimin chuckled lightly, feeling all eyes on him. There were approximately 10 men and 2 women, besides Mina, and all had paused their conversation to focus on the recent arrival.
He gave a small bow before responding.
"Thank you, Mina-ssi. I'm glad to meet your expectations. I was out of the kitchen for a moment and decided to stop by to check if everything was alright and if you needed anything else."
She smiled more broadly.
"Everything has been wonderful," she turned to her right from where she was seated at one end. "Everyone, this is Chef Park Jimin, and he’s the one who should be receiving all those compliments you’ve been giving all night, even before the dessert."
Jimin turned as well and bowed again, this time to the other guests, feeling his pride swell, as it always did when people said something like that. He was sure he had a praise kink.
"It’s my pleasure," he remarked, while some of them, in fact, did congratulate him.
He didn’t stay there long; he never spent much time outside the kitchen while the service was active. When he returned, everything was still flowing smoothly; each of his chefs was well-prepared enough to cover for the missing staff and for him momentarily.
"Okay, team. Time to finish strong," he said as he resumed his position.
The dishes were coming out quickly, and his pride was soaring like a balloon. Until, after sending out the last dessert, the waiter returned with a somewhat flushed face.
"Chef Park."
He was leaning on the counter, with a half-empty water bottle in his hand, and upon hearing his name, he looked up from where he had been fixated on his aching feet.
"A guest wants to speak with you."
"What?"
Another one? Two in one night? The last customer of the day? Seriously?
His employee cleared his throat.
"They specifically asked for you."
That made him sigh. If they knew who the executive chef and owner was, they would have done some research about the restaurant. It wasn’t like he advertised himself everywhere, and most chefs didn’t have a huge fan club talking about their restaurants.
He slowly rotated his neck from side to side, just enough to ease some of the tension in his muscles and gave a brief nod.
"Fine, let’s get this over with. Sorry I can't help with the cleanup, but hopefully, this won’t take too long."
The others didn’t mind. Usually, they encouraged him to rest before them, knowing how much effort Jimin put in.
As he walked back to the dining area, he thought about all the reasons why someone might want to speak with him—again—and mentally prepared a list of polite responses to appease them. Jimin was tired and wanted to go home; he wasn’t in the mood for a verbal confrontation.
There was only one man, seated at a table with an empty dessert plate.
If he ate it all, I don’t think he’s going to complain about the berry compote.
"Hello," he said as he approached, his hands clasped behind his back.
The eyes that looked up should have been illegal. Especially for someone keeping him from his well-deserved rest. They were doe eyes, bright and deep.
The man who had those eyes, to Jimin’s dismay, also had a face that did them justice. Porcelain skin, rosy lips with a mole beneath the lower one, and hair long enough to frame his face and draw attention to those eyes; slightly wavy and practically begging to be touched, with how soft it looked.
He wore a plain black T-shirt, and from Jimin’s perspective, black jeans and combat boots of the same color. A silver necklace hung from his neck, and a few piercings adorned his ears. His right arm, as if the rest wasn’t enough, was covered in tattoos.
Damn.
It was almost worth the extra minutes for this specimen.
Almost.
The other person smiled, and why the hell was he smiling? Jimin was tired, and now this very sexy man was about to complain about his food, so he wasn’t in the mood for smiles or wasting more time.
"You asked for me?"
The other seemed a little nervous. There were times when Jimin knew he could be intimidating, but he didn’t think this was one of those moments.
"How was dinner?"
"Oh, fantastic. One of the best dishes I’ve ever had, no doubt."
He didn’t understand anything, but before he could directly ask what the reason for the call was, the other spoke.
"Did you grow up in Busan?"
What?
He blurted the question out loud.
"I know this sounds… strange, to say the least, but were you born in Busan?"
Jimin sighed and decided to play along a little.
"Yes, I was born in Busan."
A nod was the response, followed by another question.
"Did you fall off a chair laughing in front of everyone in high school?"
"What the hell—?"
"Everyone laughed, but wow, your flexibility was seriously impressive."
Okay.
His brain connected the dots.
"Do you know me from high school?"
This was probably an old high school classmate who had found out by sheer coincidence that Jimin owned a restaurant. He’d probably just come by to say hello or maybe try to get a free dessert. Jimin would give it to him on another night if it turned out to be someone he got along with in the past. But honestly, his mind couldn’t recall anyone this good-looking from high school. He would remember that.
Could also be a stalker.
A hint of mischief lit up the eyes and smile of the man in front of Jimin, and he had no idea what would come out of his mouth next. Maybe something embarrassing that Jimin had done years ago? He couldn’t recall anything that could work against him, but you never knew.
"Did you break your mom’s china? The one with the cute hand-painted blue flowers? And then you didn’t put it back where it was, hoping to forget about it and let someone else take the blame? But in the end, Jimin-ssi, you’re too good, and the guilt got to you. You ended up confessing."
His entire train of thought came to a halt. That wasn’t something anyone could know. No one else had been in the house that day except him, his mom, and one other person. A boy younger than him, with big, bright eyes.
If he could’ve seen himself from the man’s perspective, Jimin would have noticed the recognition slowly dawning on his face. The features of the person in front of him aligned with those of someone who, years ago, had been one of Jimin’s best friends. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t recognized him sooner.
"Hyung," came as the confirmation. And then the man stood up, and Jimin realized that now he had to look up to meet Jeon Jeongguk’s eyes, not the other way around, as it had been back in the day.
Jeongguk had changed since the last time Jimin saw him. It had been about 11 years ago, when Jimin was 16 and the other boy was 15. Jeongguk had clearly gone through an impressive growth spurt; puberty had worked wonders like it hadn't in a long time.
Jimin smiled, placing one hand on his hip, shifting his weight onto his right foot, adopting a more relaxed stance.
"I barely recognized you, Jeongguk-ah."
"Yeah," the other laughed softly, "I think that was pretty obvious."
Jimin had always associated Jeongguk with something cute. Now, he was much sexier and masculine, but still cute, no matter what.
"How did you find me?"
"Do you want to sit?" Jeongguk asked at the same time, gesturing toward the chair in front of him.
Jimin should’ve been in the kitchen, helping the others and closing things down for the night, but he could spare five minutes to chat with an old friend. The restaurant was empty except for the two of them anyway. So, he pulled out the chair and sat down, resting his arms on the table and leaning in slightly.
Jeongguk mirrored his posture.
"Your hair’s not black anymore," Jeongguk commented, and Jimin couldn’t help but feel a bit self-conscious. His hair was now brown, with a copperier tone.
"Yeah, well, you should’ve seen it when it was orange. You didn’t have so many tattoos last time I saw you."
That brought their attention to Jeongguk’s right arm. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea for Jimin to have pointed it out, because the tattoos looked damn hot on the younger man. But Jeongguk just shrugged and smiled a bit wider before replying.
"Do you like them?"
I love them.
"They look good on you."
"Do you have any?"
"One or two."
He had more than just one or two, of course. They just weren’t visible as long as he had his shirt on.
"You know? I always thought you’d be the type not to have any. You were too good."
Jimin chuckled a bit.
"It’s not like I was that pure either, Jeongguk-ah. But anyway, I really want to know how you found out I worked here."
"I was there."
The other man pointed a finger toward the balcony on the second floor.
"There? What do you mean?"
Jeongguk rolled his eyes, still smiling.
"I was at the Calvin Klein event. I didn’t know you were the chef here. Actually, I didn’t even know you were a chef. But then you showed up, and Mina said you were Chef Park Jimin."
"There are plenty of Park Jimins out there."
"Ah, hyung, but none like you."
He didn’t explain further, and Jimin didn’t have time to ask for clarification before the other continued talking.
"So, I said, 'It can’t be.' And then it was like a train of memories came rushing back, you know? I couldn’t leave without talking to you again."
Jimin smiled, glad that Jeongguk had decided to do just that, and realizing how he had left the kitchen expecting an argument, ready to mentally scold the customer who had dared to ask for him.
"And then you decided to stay after the event and order dessert? You could’ve called me while you were leaving."
Jeongguk shrugged.
"You’re in charge of the whole kitchen and all these customers, hyung. I wasn’t going to ask you to come out for someone you might not even remember. Besides, the dessert is amazing. I would’ve ordered the main course without hesitation, but my stomach couldn’t handle more."
Jimin rested his chin on his hand, charmed by the person with whom he had shared so many adventures in their younger years.
"Why were you at the event?"
"I'm a brand ambassador. Well, it’s still confidential," Jeongguk’s cheeks started to blush a bit, turning slightly pink. "Forget I mentioned it, okay?"
"Am I going to see you on billboards now? Or while I’m shopping online? Wow, Gguk, that’s amazing."
"Hyung!"
Jeongguk’s voice sounded a bit childish, and his perfect lips formed a pout. Jimin started feeling that wave of nostalgia. They had always gotten along so well—at one point, they had been inseparable. But then Jeongguk’s family had moved to the United States, and neither of them had had a phone to stay in touch. Distance had done its job, and they each went on with their lives. But that didn’t mean Jeongguk didn’t still hold a special place for him, even if only in the memories of his mind.
"It’s a secret, okay? You can’t tell anyone. It’s supposed to be announced in two months, after the photoshoots and everything."
Jimin laughed and nodded.
"I won’t tell anyone, don’t worry."
"And tell me, what are you supposed to be doing now?"
"'Doing'?" Jeongguk repeated, making air quotes, causing Jimin to roll his eyes.
"Yes. I lost touch with you years ago, Jeongguk-ah. I don’t know what’s happened with you for more than a decade."
Jeongguk shrugged in front of him.
"Well, I—"
"Excuse me," a male voice interrupted, and they both looked up to see the same waiter who had fetched Jimin earlier. "Chef Park?"
"Yes?"
"Well... it's just that, well, we’ve finished everything in the kitchen. We just wanted to know if you're planning to have dinner or—"
"Damn," Jimin said, standing up and bowing his head slightly to the man. "I'm so sorry, Hyunen-ssi. Yes, you can leave me the key, and I’ll close up. Please thank the whole team for me."
Hyunen nodded quickly.
"Of course, Chef."
As the man walked back to the kitchen, Jeongguk stood up as well.
"Sorry, hyung. You must be exhausted, and here I am keeping you longer, reminiscing about the past."
A yawn escaped Jimin before he could lie and deny how tired he really was. It was past midnight, and his body was crying out for his bed, so he nodded.
Jeongguk motioned toward the door with his thumb.
"I’ll, well, get going. It was great seeing you, Jimin hyung."
Jimin smiled, watching him walk backward toward the door.
"Don’t be a stranger, Jeongguk-ah. You know where to find me."
He wouldn’t move until Jeongguk left through the door. Then he would turn off the lights and lock up the place.
The younger man finally turned his back when he was at the front door. But he didn’t take the step to leave. Instead, about five seconds later, he turned around and started walking back toward Jimin.
"I'm not letting you close up alone. What kind of gentleman would I be?"
"I mean, it wouldn't be the first time."
"Yes, but I’m here now, so let’s go."
Jimin smiled—something he seemed to be doing a lot since running into Jeongguk—and after locking the front door, they both headed toward the back exit, where the staff usually left.
"Wow," he heard a voice say in amazement behind him. They were passing by the kitchen, and Jimin was damn proud of it.
"I know," he couldn’t help but reply.
"It would be amazing to cook here, hyung."
"You cook?" Jimin asked, unable to hold back his curiosity.
"I make a mean cup of coffee."
"I’m not sure I’d let you use my state-of-the-art kitchen just to make a cup of coffee," he shot back. Although, truthfully, he had never been able to deny Jeongguk much when they were younger.
The other man was probably thinking the same thing.
"We’ll see, hyung. We’ll see."
They both exited and headed to their respective cars in the restaurant’s parking lot. But for the second time that night, just when they were about to get into their cars and head in different directions, Jeongguk turned around.
"You should give me your number, you know? So we don’t lose touch again. You won’t be able to pull that trick on me a second time, Jimin-ssi."
Jimin leaned one arm on the top of his car door, tilting his head to the side with a playful smile.
"You don’t even know who I am now. Who’s to say you’d want to keep in touch?"
"I don’t think there’s any way you could disappoint me, hyung."
Jimin felt himself blush, even though he didn’t want to.
"A decade is a long time, don’t you think?"
"Yeah. Which is why we’ve got to make up for lost time as soon as possible."
Jimin stayed silent for a few seconds. Honestly, they were both very different people from when they were kids. Who knew if they’d even get along after all these years? But, on the other hand, Jeongguk’s gaze hadn’t changed. And that sense of warmth and affection that Jeongguk stirred in Jimin hadn’t faded either. Plus, he had been smiling since they met again, so that had to mean something. And if Jeongguk was willing to reconnect...
"Alright."
They exchanged numbers, and why on earth was Jimin feeling that strange sensation like when you finally give your crush your number? This was Jeongguk, for goodness' sake.
And after they said their goodbyes, each heading in different directions, Jimin wasn’t just thinking about the next menu he’d prepare—especially now that summer was ending, and thus some ingredients would be a little bit more difficult to obtain—but also about his date the next week, and how he really didn’t want to lose contact with his friend this time.
Mostly about the last one.
Maybe that’s why he felt a bit out of place, sitting at a table for two in a restaurant other than Filter, waiting for the young woman who was supposed to be his date.
He heard his phone vibrate from where it sat on the table, and when he picked it up, a little smile appeared on his face as he saw the sender. Jeongguk and he hadn’t exactly become the same friends again; Jimin didn’t even know yet what the other man was doing for work, nor did either of them know much about what had happened in their lives during the time they'd been apart. But the day after their reunion, when Jimin finally woke from his well-deserved rest—grateful that it was his day off—he unlocked his phone to see a text message from Jeongguk.
Jeongguk, 4:32:11 P.M.: Sorry for keeping you up longer. Did you get some rest, hyung?
And so, their message exchange had started. Not that they talked about favorite colors and dreams, nor did they know every move the other was making. In fact, Jimin usually put his phone down at the start of his shifts and didn’t touch it again for eight or nine hours. In case of an emergency, there was a specific phone designated in the kitchen for contacting any member of the team. It had only rung five or six times, and every time it did, the entire staff would tense a little.
But he and Jeongguk? They exchanged long conversations at the end of the day.
The current message was about Jimin’s upcoming date.
Jeongguk, 7:25:09 P.M.: Let me know how it goes.
Jimin, 7:27:11 P.M.: We agreed on 7:15. Guess who's late.
He hadn’t offered to pick her up, and maybe that wasn’t the most chivalrous move, but at the same time, he figured it would take some of the formality or seriousness out of the situation. It wasn’t that he wasn’t looking for something serious, but he wanted the meeting to feel a bit more relaxed than what his mother was probably expecting. If he was being a little more honest, it all boiled down to the fact that he just wasn’t feeling it.
Five minutes later, just when he was thinking about leaving, he heard a voice behind him apologizing for being late. Maybe it was the little seed of irritation that had begun growing in him for wasting his day off on this, but the voice seemed a bit too shrill for his liking. After reassuring her that it was fine and that he wasn’t upset—which was only a partial lie—they sat down and began what, for him, felt more like a business meeting.
They weren’t compatible. That much was clear, probably to both of them, within the first fifteen minutes. They didn’t know what to talk about, aside from the weather, which made Jimin’s attention shift from the woman across the table to the restaurant around them and the menu in his hands. He tried to steer the conversation toward food because, well, he was a chef, but Heeso—his date—was a political science student with absolutely no interest in the fascinating combinations that could be made with flavors.
Needless to say, there was no movie after dinner, and just a little over an hour in, they parted ways with a simple handshake.
Jimin, 8:51:17 P.M.: I'm out.
His phone lit up with a call just a few moments later, and he rolled his eyes before answering.
"How did it go? She's pretty, right? What do you think of her? Are you going to see her again?"
"Mom," he started, laughing at the barrage of questions from the woman, "calm down, okay?"
"I just want to know how it went, sweetheart. Your dad is right here next to me, too. So, how was it?"
"Well, let's just say you're amazing at many things, Mom, but setting me up on a date isn’t one of them."
He heard his father’s comment in the background.
"Told you so."
"But why?" his mom asked, sounding genuinely curious. "I mean, I'm not mad or anything, it’s just... she's pretty and well-mannered, lives in Seoul, and her mother told me she thinks you're handsome."
"Mom, it takes more than that, and you know it. Yes, she’s pretty and polite, although she showed up nearly twenty minutes late, but we had no conversation. And even if she was cute, she's not my type."
"You prefer dicks, I know."
"MOM!"
It was his mother’s turn to laugh. It wasn’t that Jimin was embarrassed by the fact, he just didn’t want to have that conversation with the woman who gave birth to him.
“Let’s change the subject, okay? Guess who I ran into recently. Well, actually, who found me.”
“You know I’ll never guess.”
“Jeongguk. Remember him?”
“Jeon? Of course I do! You two practically lived here four out of seven days, and the other three, I had to go pick you up from his house. I didn’t know he was in Seoul.”
“Yeah. He came by the restaurant a few days ago and remembered me. We’ve been back in touch since then.”
“I always felt like part of it was my fault that you two lost contact. You didn’t have a way to keep in touch, but his mother and I did.”
“I guess being an adult isn’t that easy. I mean, I know it isn’t. So, I can forgive you two for not having time to keep that bridge intact.”
He heard her sigh over the phone before she continued.
“I talked to his mother about two years ago—no, three? Three years ago, honey?” she asked his father. “Anyway, the last thing I heard was that he had a girlfriend in the U.S.”
"A long-distance relationship?" he asked as he got into his car and started it.
"No, he was living there, something related to his profession. But I’m glad you two found each other again."
"Yeah. Anyway, I'll hang up. Since I'm already out, I’ll take the chance to go to the movies, and maybe later to the supermarket. I think I'm missing some things in my fridge."
"You’re always missing things in your fridge, Jiminie. Because you’re always experimenting with some strange dish."
He rolled his eyes again.
"Bye, Mom. Love you."
"And I love you, sweetheart."
After they hung up, he placed his phone in the holder on his dashboard, and as he was doing so, the screen lit up again when his pinky accidentally touched it. That’s when he saw a message that had come in just two minutes earlier.
Jeongguk, 8:58:00 P.M: In or out? I mean whether I should go out to eat or order delivery. You can also use this message as an excuse if the date isn’t going well and you need an escape. Excuse: My friend is terrified of dogs and there’s one cornering him in an alley.
Jimin smiled as he read the message, chuckling softly at the excuse Jeongguk had made up. He picked up his phone and quickly responded.
Jimin, 9:00:14 P.M: 1. If I had needed a message like this, it would’ve been about thirty minutes ago. Around the middle of the date.
Jimin, 9:00:54 P.M: 2. What a terrible excuse.
Jimin, 9:01:23 P.M: 3. I wouldn’t even have been able to tell that lie, knowing you’re the least fearful person I know. And you love dogs. Unless they’ve totally brainwashed you in the past ten years.
Jeongguk, 9:02:11 P.M: I tried my best. In any case, I guess there won’t be a movie?
Jimin, 9:03:00 P.M: There will be. Just for me. I really want to watch the movie, and it’s my day off, so...
Jimin could see the three dots appear on the screen right away, indicating that Jeongguk was typing. It seemed like he hadn’t even left the chat.
Jeongguk, 9:03:45 P.M: Alright. Decided. Out it is. Which theater are we going to?
What?
Jeongguk, 9:05:11 P.M: Hyung?
Jimin shouldn’t be surprised. I mean, he didn’t expect it, but it shouldn’t surprise him either. From what he could remember of Jeongguk, and from the little time they’d been talking, he was a complete extrovert, and on top of that, he just liked being free, if you could put it that way. He made decisions and immediately followed through.
It’s not like he minded the other joining him, either.
Jimin, 9:07:11 P.M: Yongsan?
Jeongguk, 9:08:00 P.M: I’ll see you there.
Jimin finally left the parking lot and set off on his way.
🤍🖤
Jimin was stunning, Jeongguk thought as he entered the mall where the cinema was and finally spotted his companion. The older man smiled from where he stood at the entrance of the theater, and once again, Jeongguk wondered when the boy he had always thought of as cute had turned into sensuality personified.
There was something not just about the chef’s appearance, but also his personality. The first time he had seen him at the Calvin Klein event, he had been left somehow starstruck. He remembered Jimin quite well, even with the passing years, having always harbored a slight crush on the older man. But even then, he had trouble recognizing what he had once seen in the younger Jimin, because everything about him now seemed amplified.
There was no way in hell he wasn’t going to talk to his childhood friend that day. And when the chef had stepped out—assuming he’d come to speak to a diner, probably assuming he was annoyed—Jeongguk’s hormones might have kicked in just a bit more than they should have.
Jimin had approached in that black uniform that fit him so well, exuding self-assurance, with a piercing gaze that, without recognizing him, showed such determination and control that the younger man had simply wanted to throw himself at him.
There it was, he had said it. He wanted to throw himself into Jimin’s muscular arms—he must work out—and make that somewhat intimidating man smile.
"I’ve got the tickets. I figured you’d like something with superheroes."
And can you figure out how much I want to kiss those lips?
He was shameless, considering they had only just reunited. But the attraction had been instant. Jimin had such beautiful lips, and Jeongguk was bisexual enough to appreciate them. He wondered, for who knows how many times now, if Jimin was into guys.
He tried to shake the thought by looking at the movie the other had chosen, and then he smiled.
"I love Marvel, hyung."
Jimin winked.
"I’m just that amazing."
The point was, to Jeongguk, Jimin had always been amazing. Since that time when he was five and Jimin was seven, and the older boy had looked so cool with a soccer ball. In his age-induced innocence, he had sworn that Jimin would end up becoming a professional soccer player. They had started being friends because they went to the same school and their mothers lived nearby. But eventually, they became friends because they simply got along too well for it to be any other way. They started doing everything together. And when adolescence hit, Jeongguk didn’t feel ashamed to admit that he found Jimin cuter and more interesting than the girls.
He never told him, though. And Jeongguk never had the chance after he left, even though he kept thinking about the older one.
"Let’s go, I’ll buy the popcorn," he said in that moment.
As they started walking, Jimin shook his head.
"I’m your hyung, Jeongguk-ah. I should be treating you."
"Don’t you think you already treated me enough when we were our younger selves?"
"You say that like we’re ancient," the man beside him laughed. "Besides, you’ve always been so cute. That’s something you should take advantage of."
Jeongguk fluttered his eyelashes exaggeratedly.
"Who says I don’t?"
Jimin rolled his eyes and smiled; and although Jeongguk found himself liking the other man’s smile more and more with every exposure to it, he felt the urge to sigh and tell him that he wasn’t a kid anymore.
He had this feeling that Jimin still saw him as the younger friend, the one he needed to take care of. But Jeongguk was a man now, and he was attracted to him. He was adult enough to know that at this point, it was purely physical attraction because, well, he didn’t really know Jimin anymore. And again, he had no idea what his friend’s sexual preferences were. But, at the same time, his conversations with Jimin had started to feel like coming home in a way. And he was beginning to believe in that romantic crap about people being destined for each other; because there was no other way to explain the growing urge to shoot his shot and actually take the other man on a real date. And he wanted Jimin to see him differently; with a gaze a little darker and a little less ‘aw, how cute you are.’
Jimin bought the popcorn, and Jeongguk made sure to emphasize that the next time they went out, he’d be the one paying.
He loved Marvel, he really did, but for a large part of the movie, he was thinking about how this time he wasn’t going to stay quiet. Enough years had passed for them to definitely not just be friends, so there was no bullshit like "I don’t want to ruin our friendship" in the way. It wasn’t like if Jimin didn’t feel the same, he would disappear from his life. No. But he also wasn’t going to sit back while the beautiful man sent him straight to the friendzone.
Imperceptibly, he nodded to himself, as if building up the courage. And then he stopped himself from doing cliché moves like stretching his arm out to rest it behind Jimin — like he saw some people doing — or grabbing his hand. They weren’t there yet.
So he endured the whole movie, and when they left, he offered to go with Jimin to the grocery store.
Now, that—that was quite an experience. The chef truly loved what he did, and it was obvious in the dedication he put into selecting ingredients, in the slight furrow of his brow as he debated between one lettuce or another.
“You know? I honestly wouldn’t know what to do with half the stuff you’ve tossed into this cart,” Jeongguk said, gesturing toward the items.
“What? You only know the basic stuff?” Jimin asked without looking at him, too focused on some spices.
“It’s not like I survive off delivery, but right now, it feels like you’re showing me a whole new culture.”
Jimin laughed but still started explaining most of the items to Jeongguk. Sometimes sharing random facts, other times giving cooking tips or mentioning different dishes that could be prepared. Jeongguk listened, fascinated. Not just because he loved food, but also because of the passion the older man exuded.
They left the store with more bags than Jimin had originally planned — his words — both of them eating ice pops and decided to go for a little walk. It didn’t matter that it was past midnight at that point.
“It’s weird going to the grocery store with you,” Jeongguk heard from beside him.
“Why?”
“Usually, when we went shopping with your mom, you couldn’t stay calm for five minutes,” Jimin chuckled softly. “Plus, your rebellious look isn’t exactly what I’d call domestic.”
Jeongguk looked at himself, dressed in a white t-shirt that showed off his tattoos, baggy pants, and black combat boots.
“Rebellious?”
Jimin shrugged and smiled.
“You look good.”
“Do you say that to all the guys?” Jeongguk blurted before he could think too much about it. But after the words left his mouth, he didn’t feel the slightest bit of regret. Especially not when he noticed the amused sparkle in the man’s eyes beside him.
“That depends on what I want from them.”
Jeongguk pretended to ponder his response, as if it were some complex philosophical theories.
“You sound like a total predator, Jimin-ssi.”
Jimin laughed.
“Don’t worry, Jeonggukie, you’re safe with me.”
Jeonggukie...
And safe? He didn’t want to be safe.
But he decided to keep the light atmosphere going and continue the game.
“I can defend myself pretty well, you know? Even if you wanted to jump on me, I could stop you easily.”
Could, not that he’d necessarily want to.
“Oh? I can see you’ve been hitting the gym often.”
This time it was his turn to shrug.
“I mean, I’m a boxer. I guess that’s like… half my job.”
He walked a few more steps before realizing that the other had stopped. Turning around, he couldn’t help the little smirk that formed on his face, knowing he had surprised him.
“Why’d you stop?”
“You? A boxer?”
“Why the surprise?” he asked as Jimin started walking again, catching up to him.
“I mean, do you remember that vase you told me about? Well, you must also remember that when I broke it, you were with me—and you started crying. It’s like... you’re way too cute to be a boxer.”
Jeongguk rolled his eyes.
"You should also remember I've always liked sports, so it’s not such a crazy career choice."
“I know, but at the same time, it’s hard to picture you taking punches to that pretty face of yours.”
“You think I have a pretty face?”
“Come on, Jeongguk,” Jimin said, pretending to be frustrated. “You can’t be oblivious to the fact that you’re handsome. Plus, I’m sure the way girls look at you reminds you of that constantly.”
"I don’t pay much attention to that. But if it makes you feel better, I don’t get hit that often. Like I said, I can defend myself pretty well."
At that moment, they both stopped. They had made a loop around the block and ended up back where they had parked their cars.
“I feel like you should’ve been the one carrying all the bags, then.”
Jeongguk smiled and winked at the chef.
“Whenever you want, hyung.”
They exchanged glances for a few seconds before Jimin opened the back door of his car, and together, they placed the bags of groceries inside.
“See you later, Jeongguk-ah.”
“Later, hyung.”
Jeongguk waited until Jimin had driven off before getting into his own car and heading back to his apartment, already anticipating the next time they could reconnect.
But it wasn’t with that hyung that Jeongguk met the next day. No. At 10 a.m., he found himself at a table in a café near his apartment. Namjoon sat to his right, while across from them were Hoseok and the café’s owner himself, Jin.
“So, let me get this straight,” Jin was saying, “we already knew you’d reconnected with your childhood crush.”
“No—”
“But now it turns out he’s not just your childhood crush. You want to, what, bond with him?” continued the other, ignoring him.
Jeongguk in agreement hummed while taking a sip of his americano as Namjoon chuckled at the term his boyfriend had used.
“Then what’s the problem?” Jin continued. “You said you’re 90% sure he could be into guys. If I’m being honest, I would’ve just asked him straight up by now.”
“Oh, we know, hyung,” Hoseok chimed in, giving Namjoon a knowing look, which made the smile in return.
“The problem is,” Jeongguk said, “that Jimin still seems to see me as his little brother or something. Like he has to protect me.”
“Well, you’ve got those Bambi eyes, and that’s not really helping your case,” Namjoon teased.
Jeongguk rolled his so-called Bambi eyes.
“But I’m not a kid or a teenager anymore. He’s only a year older than me, not a decade. And we’ve been apart for years, so it’s not like he watched me grow up or anything.”
Hoseok smirked, leaning in. “Maybe that’s the problem. He still remembers you as the cute, wide-eyed kid, not the... boxer you’ve become.”
Namjoon nodded thoughtfully. “Exactly. Maybe he needs a little reminder that you’re not the same Jeongguk he used to know.”
“But in a way, I am still the same, you know? Just like he grew up, so did I.”
“Invite him to one of your fights,” Jin suddenly suggested, finishing his coffee.
“What?”
“Of course, hyung,” Hoseok chimed in sarcastically. “Inviting him to watch you get punched is a great idea.”
“I mean, it’s not about him watching you get hit, but about seeing how you fight back and keep a solid defense,” Jin defended his suggestion. “Of course,” he added, looking at Jeongguk, “you’re a very good boxer. Your reputation speaks for itself, but don’t embarrass me on that day.”
Jeongguk narrowed his eyes at him.
“It makes sense,” Jin continued, “you guys just aren’t seeing the bigger picture. But I’m speaking from experience. When I was fooling around with this one,” he said, gesturing toward Namjoon without even glancing his way, “nothing made me want to throw myself at him and beg him to fuck me more than watching him knock guys out in the ring.”
“TMI, TMI!” Jeongguk yelled, drawing a few curious stares from the people around them.
“And we had sex that night,” Jin finished, completely shameless, while poor Namjoon was left blushing furiously.
“We don’t know if Jimin’s going to get aroused by that kind of thing,” Hoseok chimed in.
“We don’t want that,” Namjoon finally spoke up. “We want him to stop seeing Jeongguk as some sort of innocent little thing. I know it sounds crazy, but it’s not a bad idea if you think about it. A ‘cute’ guy doesn’t step into a boxing ring.”
“You should’ve seen his face when I told him what I do for a living,” Jeongguk added with a smirk.
“See? We just need to shake up that image he has of you,” Namjoon said. “I didn’t meet a ‘cute’ Jeongguk because I met you later. I don’t know what image Jimin has, but I’m guessing it’s from your life before you came to Seoul.”
“It’s not like I was that cute neither,” Jeongguk mumbled as he pulled out his phone. The others just shrugged, clearly not convinced.
Fuck it.
Jeongguk, 11:02:12 A.M: Hyung, I have a fight on Saturday the next week. Want to come?
He sent the message and spent several minutes just staring at the screen, waiting for the moment the other would reply, though it was very likely Jimin was still asleep.
He was surprised when, just an hour later, while driving to the gym, a notification alerted him of an incoming message.
UNKNOWN, 12:10:00 P.M : I’m gonna end you.
Oh. Yeah.
He had forgotten about that.