Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first time Jimin sees him, he’s trying really hard not to cry.

Him. The new neighbour next door.

From where Jimin is standing, resting his forearms against the balcony and desperately trying to hold back his tears, the man is beyond anything Jimin has ever really seen before in his life.

He’s tall, dark-haired, muscly, and so incredibly handsome that the tears dry up in Jimin’s eyes almost instantly. He’s leaning against a big, black, shiny motorbike with his arms folded, a cigarette dangling between two fingers whilst his biceps bulge out from his tight black t-shirt, tattoos decorating the entire length of one arm. For a moment, Jimin wonders what they would taste like on his tongue.

He shakes his head quickly, ashamed of his wandering thoughts.

He’s married, for fucksake. And has a child.

The quality of his relationship with his wife is entirely besides the point.

Jimin can’t help but continue to stare, watching as the man flicks the ash from the cigarette before taking another long drag, leaning his head back to blow a cloud of smoke towards the sky.

It’s then that his eyes fall upon Jimin.

The blond wants to move, wants to divert his gaze, wants to stop his heart leaping out of his throat.

The man stares, head still tipped back, his curly hair falling over his eyes that are hooded and staring so intensely at Jimin that he wonders if he can see right through him - can see how badly Jimin is trying to look away, how quickly his heart is beating, how fast his thoughts are spinning in his head.

The cigarette smoke curls up into the air, but the man doesn’t take another drag; he doesn’t do anything but stare at Jimin, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. He tilts his head slightly to the side, eyes running over the entire length of Jimin, and Jimin feels naked under his gaze, like he’s been stripped down by an unspoken command.

The spell is broken when two little arms wrap around Jimin’s thigh.

“Daddy! Mommy won’t tell me a bedtime story, will you?” Eunha says, face smushed against Jimin’s leg, her voice little and sad around the edges.

Jimin’s gaze finally snaps away from the man as he threads his fingers through his daughter’s silky black hair and looks down at her. “Of course, bug. Why don’t you go pick out a book for us to read? Have you brushed your teeth?”

“I did already,” Eunha mumbles, fiddling with the hem of Jimin’s shorts between her tiny fingers.

Jimin hums, unconvinced. “What did we say about lying, Eunha-yah?”

Eunha pouts, hiding her face further in Jimin’s leg. “Not to…”

“Brush teeth first, then we can read a book together, okay? How about the rainbow fish one?” Jimin asks gently.

“Okay!” Eunha squeals, dashing back into the apartment with a giggle.

Jimin sighs and turns to head back in, too, but chances one more glance towards the man, only to find the space empty where his motorbike was.

He doesn’t know what to do with the odd sense of disappointment he feels at not seeing those piercing brown eyes staring back up at him.

Jimin shakes off the feeling and shuts the glass door behind him, walking back into the aftermath of another pointless argument with his wife in hushed tones so as not to disturb Eunha. Sooyeon is lounging on the couch, her hand curled around a large glass of red wine, whilst she inspects her nails on the other, her phone tucked between her ear and her shoulder.

“-dinner tomorrow, yeah,” Sooyeon says. She doesn’t spare Jimin a glance. “I’ll meet you straight from work.”

Jimin frowns, stopping in front of her, blocking the television and mouths quietly, “Parent-teacher conference.”

Sooyeon waves her hand at him, scowling a little. “No, Mina-ssi. Everything’s fine.”

Jimin rolls his eyes, sighing deeply as he drifts into Eunha’s room, rifling through the hundreds of books she has to find the one about the rainbow fish, though he could probably recite it by heart from the number of times they’ve read it.

Eunha bounds into her room from the bathroom, jumping into bed and settling under the covers as Jimin flicks on her nightlight and the light dances across the ceilings in waves of purples, greens and blues.

“Okay, little lady. Do you want Captain Slimysocks, Sir Gigglebeard, or Lady Toots of Tootleville?” Jimin asks, resting on his knees beside Eunha’s bed, book in hand.

“Sir Gigglebeard!” Eunha exclaims, squeezing her soft toy bunny, Tokki, close to her chest.

“Anything for the bequest of Her Majesty,” Jimin says in an overly regal tone, bowing to her before tickling her until she erupts in a fit of shrieks and squeals.

The sound of her laughter is enough for Jimin to forget, for fifteen minutes, about his failed marriage, waiting for him outside his daughter’s bedroom door.

Once Eunha is soundly asleep, worn out by the end of the book, Jimin kisses her forehead gently before shutting the door behind him with a soft click.

Sooyeon hasn’t moved; she’s still lounging on the couch, her feet resting on the coffee table despite Jimin’s insistence not to.

“She’s down,” Jimin says, settling on the couch with his favourite oolong tea that’s long gone cold.

“Mm,” Sooyeon hums, taking a sip from her wine. “I’m going out for dinner tomorrow, but there are some pizzas in the freezer you could do for her when she’s back from school.”

“I was trying to tell you we have the Parent-Teacher conference tomorrow,” Jimin argues gently. “We always take her out for dinner as a treat afterwards.”

Sooyeon turns to him, her eyebrows furrowing into a small frown. “Oh, right. Well, you can just take her. Jung-seosangnim likes you more, anyway”

“Because I’m at the school more often than you are,” Jimin comments, a hint of frustration laced in his voice.

“Give it a rest, Jimin-ah,” Sooyeon grumbles. “Didn’t we just have this argument?”

Jimin sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “We don’t have to argue. I’m just saying it would be nice if you came. We’re both her parents.”

Sooyeon sets her glass down harder than necessary. “I have work, client dinners, life outside of the family, you know that.”

“She’s five,” Jimin says quietly. “She doesn’t know that. She just knows when you’re not there.”

Sooyeon finally exhales, her tone softening. “I’m trying my best. I forgot all about the conference.”

“I wish your best included her sometimes. She’s your daughter, whether you like it or not,” Jimin replies, hanging his head between his shoulders.

Sooyeon looks away, her jaw tightening. “Don’t make me out to be the villain. That’s not fair.”

“Neither is a little girl missing her mom when she’s right here,” Jimin says, more tired than angry.

The silence stretches again. Sooyeon picks up her glass, turning it in her hands. “I’ll see what I can do,” she says at last, though they both know she won’t. “I’m going to take a bath.”

Jimin nods, staring at his mug on the coffee table. “Sure.” 

When the bathroom door clicks shut, the apartment feels too still.

Jimin leans back against the couch, tea untouched, and stares at the faint reflection of the city lights against the window.

He tells himself not to take it personally, that Sooyeon always gets like this - snappy, cold and distant - after a long day at work. But it still hurts. Jimin had a long day too, and he managed to pick up his child, play with her, help her with her spelling, bathe her, feed her, and put her to bed. Resentment crawls up his spine.

Eunha’s laughter from earlier echoes faintly in his mind, a reminder of how much he tries to hold everything together when his home feels like it’s slowly falling apart.

—————————✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧—————————

Jimin doesn’t get a chance to meet their new next-door neighbour until three days after they had locked eyes from Jimin’s balcony.

He’s standing at his door, keys halfway in the lock, hair falling over his face so that all Jimin can see is the muscly length of his body, tight in a black compression shirt, thighs bursting from his black athletic shorts. His back seems to go on for miles, shoulders wide and sharp. Jimin hopes he’s not gripping Eunha’s hand too tightly to stop himself from gasping aloud.

The new neighbour straightens as Jimin approaches, a package tucked under one arm, and his lips curling into a smirk when he catches Jimin staring.

“Hey,” the man says easily, voice silky smooth but rough around the edges. “I’m Jeongguk. Just moved in a few days ago.” He bows slightly, his hair falling over his forehead before he brushes it back, his fingers gliding through his hair. Jimin really can’t help staring now.

“Hi,” Eunha giggles, waving with her lunchbag swinging from her elbow before bowing almost down to her knees. “I’m Eunha. This is Daddy.”

“Why hello, Eunha-yah, it’s lovely to meet you,” Jeongguk says, crouching down, a bright smile etched onto his face, ducking his head lightly. “And, hello, Daddy.” He looks up at Jimin through his lashes, and Jimin can feel how his heartbeat jumps in his throat, his cheeks flaming.

“Jimin,” Jimin hurries to say, clearing his throat. “Not Daddy, just Jimin.”

“Just Jimin,” Jeongguk repeats, like he’s trying out how the word sounds on his tongue. “Suits you.”

“Are you gonna be my Daddy’s new friend?” Eunha asks, looking between them expectantly.

“Maybe,” Jeongguk replies, tapping his chin in dramatic thought. “If your daddy wants to be friends.” Jeongguk looks up again, his eyes sparkling with mischief, his lips curved into a devilish smirk.

“Your hair is long like mine,” Eunha says, reaching to swat at Jeongguk’s hair before Jimin pulls her hand away.

“Yah! You can’t touch people without their permission, Eunha-yah,” Jimin scolds, embarrassment flaming his cheeks. “Jeongguk-ssi might not like you touching his hair.”

Jeongguk hums, nodding a little. “You should listen to your daddy. You should always ask before touching someone next time. But I don’t mind, my hair is pretty long, right?”

Eunha pouts but nods, shyly hiding behind Jimin’s legs a little. “Can I touch your hair, ahju-ahjussi?”

Jimin bites back a grin as Jeongguk’s eyes widen and he scoffs lightly. “Who told you I was old enough for ahjussi, hm?” he teases, pouting.

Eunha giggles and emerges from behind Jimin’s legs to gently comb through Jeongguk’s hair. “Aji’s hair is so soft, Daddy!”

“You can play with it too, if you like, Jimin-ssi,” Jeongguk says before winking.

Jimin coughs, steering Eunha down the hall by her shoulders, saying, “We have to get back. It was nice meeting you, Jeongguk-ssi.”

“Likewise. I’m sure I’ll see you around,” Jeongguk purrs, standing and leaning against the wall, crossing his arms. Jimin really, really tries not to stare.

“Bye-bye, Aji!” Eunha calls, waving as Jimin lightly pushes her through the apartment door.

Jimin rests his back against the door as soon as it closes behind him, exhaling the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

Eunha kicks off her shoes, dutifully lining them up by the door before pushing her feet into her slippers and dashing towards her bedroom.

“Wash your hands first, please, Eunha-yah!” Jimin calls, unlacing his work shoes and stretching his neck that is stiff from sitting at a desk all day.

Eunha rushes back out of her room and into the bathroom, carefully laying the stepstool by the sink before hopping up and washing her hands, using far too much soap than necessary, but she giggles as she lathers her hands together, and if that gets her to wash up, then so be it. Pick your battles.

“Homework first, then you can help me with dinner. Want to be my little chef?” Jimin asks, unpacking her lunchbox and school books onto the dining table.

“Okay! I’ll do homework super fast. Can I watch Pororo after, please?” Eunha asks, pulling herself up onto the chair and gripping her glittery pencil in her hand.

“For an hour only, okay? Then, something creative,” Jimin compromises, taking the seat next to his daughter. “These look tricky, bug. Do you have your thinking cap on?”

Eunha’s eyes widen, nodding enthusiastically. “Yeah! It has a big bow and sparkles and even lights up!”

“You are the coolest kid ever,” Jimin replies earnestly. “You ready?”

Eunha nods, her tongue peeking out of her lips as she leans over to look at the Hangeul a little closer, fully concentrated.

They work through her homework for a little while, tracing and sounding out the letters on the worksheet. Eunha is determined, albeit a little frustrated too, ever the perfectionist when she doesn’t trace the lines quite correctly on the first try. Jimin kisses the top of her head and encourages her perseverance, promising that practice makes perfect and that she’ll be a writing whizz sooner than she thinks.

By the time the apartment door swings open as Sooyeon returns home from work, Eunha’s homework is done, and dinner is halfway ready. She’s standing on her stool next to Jimin at the counter, her kids’ safe knife in her hand as she helps cut up mushrooms to add to the stew.

“You are the most helpful little sous chef in the whole wide world,” Jimin compliments, pressing a kiss to her cheek with a comically loud ‘mwah’, which makes her giggle and wipe her cheek with her sleeve.

“Hi, Jimin-ah. Hi, Eunha-yah,” Sooyeon says as she slips off her heels and hangs her coat up on the rack.

“Mommy, Mommy! Look! I cut mushrooms all by myself!” Eunha exclaims, giddy with excitement.

“Mm,” Sooyeon says, peering over the counter. “Looks good. Have you done your homework?”

Eunha nods, lifting her arms so her mom can pick her up, but Sooyeon walks away, shutting the bathroom door behind her. Jimin’s heart lurches in his chest as Eunha slowly lowers her arms, turning back to the chopping board with a trembling bottom lip.

“Do you want to help me stir, bug? I need a big, strong helper,” Jimin says, holding the spoon in Eunha’s line of sight.

Eunha blinks quickly, sighing loudly. “O-okay,” she says, her voice small but still eager to please. Jimin places his hand over hers, guiding the motion as they stir the bubbling pot together.

“You’re a natural,” Jimin comments, forcing brightness into his voice. “What would I do without you?”

She giggles faintly, the sound a little thin still, but a giggle nonetheless. “I know,” she declares. “You’d burn it. Make a fire.”

Jimin chuckles, the sound genuine this time, taken aback by his child’s hilarious bluntness. “You’re probably right. Good job you’re here to save the day, huh?”

Sooyeon reappears in the kitchen with her hair tied back and a freshly washed face and begins setting the dinner table for three, setting down three pairs of chopsticks, including training ones for Eunha. “Smells good,” she says softly.

“It’s Princess Eunha’s magic touch. I’m just the assistant,” Jimin insists, glancing over his shoulder.

“Make enough for lunch tomorrow then,” Sooyeon suggests, her mouth curving into a small, tired, but real, smile.

“Sure,” Jimin replies, turning back to the stove, blowing on the spoon to let Eunha have a taste of the broth once she sees Jimin do the same. After he convinces her they do not need to add chocolate to make it taste better, he sets the pot down on the table, and the three begin to eat.

It feels safe, in its own quiet domestic way - just the three of them sharing a meal under the warm kitchen light, Eunha’s small voice carrying through the room. She chatters about how Jung-seonsaengnim let her be line leader, and how she and Soojin drew cats in chalk on the playground during a break, her words tumbling over each other in excitement.

Sooyeon listens with half an ear, thumb idly scrolling through social media. She hums when prompted, smiles when she remembers too.

Jimin listens properly - smiling and asking more questions, stealing glances across the table at Sooyeon, whose smile doesn’t reach her eyes, and who is looking anywhere but at him.

When Eunha hops off her chair and runs off to watch cartoons on the couch, the apartment quiets, save for the faint sound of Pororo on the TV and Eunha’s soft singing. Sooyeon turns to the sink, her hands submerging in the soapy water.

“She’s getting so big now,” she says almost absently, as if she’s stating the weather and not talking about the child she gave birth to.

“Yeah, she is,” Jimin agrees, packing the leftovers into small glass containers. “She wants to spend time with you, you know.”

“I know,” Sooyeon says after a beat, her gaze dropping to the soapy water in the sink. “It’s just hard after work. I’m too tired to play.”

Jimin nods slowly, standing in the light of the fridge as he bites back all the words he’s one-hundred per cent said before. I’m tired too. She’s your daughter. You’re supposed to love her.

He doesn’t say them. Can’t. Not without it blowing up into a full argument and having to usher Eunha to bed early so she doesn’t have to see her parents fight. Again.

Instead, he closes the fridge and murmurs, “Yeah, I get it.”

Sooyeon nods, rinsing the last plate.

In the living room, Eunha shrieks with laughter at something on the screen - the sound bright and so full of joy it makes Jimin’s heart ache. He leans against the counter, watching his wife’s back as she dries her hands and begins to realise how far the chasm between them is.

He’d once be curled around her at the sink, his chin hooked over her shoulders, hands wandering as he littered kisses along her neck and shoulder. That infatuation was, of course, how Eunha came to be.

So infatuated that they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. So infatuated that Jimin had proposed less than a year into their relationship, head over heels in love with each other and committed to spending the rest of their lives together. So infatuated that on the night of their wedding, they made love until the sun came up, until they were sure she’d catch and that a product of their love would be blossoming inside her already.

The difference between then and now feels too harrowing to put into words.

—————————✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧—————————

It’s Friday night, and Eunha is already half-asleep by the time Jimin tucks her into bed, her arms clutching onto her favourite stuffed bunny as Jimin smoothes her hair back off her forehead, settling her under the covers.

She’s so tired, in fact, she doesn’t even request any bedtime story, let alone four or five like she usually does.

“Goodnight, bug,” Jimin whispers, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“G’night, Daddy,” she mumbles, voice muffled by her duvet. “Love you.”

“Love you more,” Jimin replies, but she’s already asleep, snoring softly, lost to her dreams.

He lingers for a moment, watching her small form curled under the blanket - it’s the only simple thing in his life, the only thing that makes sense. When he steps out into the hall, the apartment is quiet. Sooyeon’s in their bedroom, the door closed; there’s no light spilling from the crack beneath it, but Jimin doesn’t know if she’s actually asleep or just avoiding him.

He doesn’t bother turning on the TV for mindless entertainment or opening his laptop in an attempt to quell the boredom that seems to take over whenever Eunha is finally down for the night and his wife wants nothing to do with him.

Jimin picks up the laundry hamper from the hallway and slips on some sliders, shoving his head through his hoodie and pocketing his keys, shutting the door behind him as quietly as he can. Eunha sleeps like the dead, but somehow has a superhuman sense for whenever Jimin isn’t near her, even in sleep.

He makes his way down to the laundry room, the quietness of the apartment building only interrupted by the sound of his footsteps.

The hums of the tumble dryers fill the laundry room as he enters into the darkness, the fluorescent lights flickering on overhead as Jimin crouches down to pile a load of towels into the drum.

It’s as he’s measuring out the laundry detergent when he hears a familiar, yet dangerous voice cut through the silence.

“Late-night laundry, Jimin-ssi?”

Jimin turns, his pulse hitching. Jeongguks leans in the doorway, his own laundry basket balanced on his hip, his hair even curlier and messier than usual and a little damp at the ends like he just showered. He’s smirking, his eyes intense on Jimin just like before in the car park and in the hallway, but this time there’s no Eunha to distract Jimin’s attention.

“Yeah,” Jimin replies, a little too quickly. “Didn’t get around to it earlier.”

Jeongguk steps in, taking the washer right next to Jimin’s despite the rest of the row being empty. “Neither, although I don’t really have an excuse, I was working from home all day.”

“What do you do for work?” Jimin asks, shutting the washer with a click and sitting back against the bench.

“I’m a video game designer. I do the art for different video games, character design, scenery, animations, that sort of thing,” Jeongguk says with a shrug, piling a load, which looks like a sea of black and nothing else, into the washer.

“Wow, that’s cool,” Jimin hums, swinging his legs. “I noticed you have a lot of tattoos. Did you design them yourself?”

“You noticed?” Jeongguk smirks, turning his head. Jimin’s cheeks flame, but before he can explain, Jeongguk continues, “I did, yeah. Most of them, but not all.”

“I have a few, but didn’t draw any myself. I’m not very creative,” Jimin shrugs, watching as Jeongguk pours a healthy amount of fabric softener into the compartment and wonders if that’s what is making Jeongguk smell so nice- Jimin stops that thought right there.

“Didn’t expect you to be tatted, Jimin-ssi,” Jeongguk mutters, turning his head, looking at Jimin through the ends of his hair.

Jimin shrugs, tucking his hands under his thighs. “I got most of them when I was younger. I got one for Eunha when she was born.”

“You’re full of surprises,” Jeongguk comments whilst smiling, his eyes drop down to Jimin’s lips and back up to his eyes so quickly Jimin nearly misses it. He shuts the washer and joins Jimin on the bench, close enough that Jimin catches the faint perfume of his clothes and cologne, but far enough that something Jimin refuses to name itches under his skin.

“I’m glad I got to see you again,” Jeongguk says lowly.

“Yeah?” Jimin asks before he can stop himself. His cheeks flame with embarrassment (or something else?) “I-I mean, how come?”

Jeongguk chuckles, turning his head to watch Jimin desperately fumble with his fingers to try and calm down. He’s close, so close that Jimin could count each mole on Jeongguk’s face if he wanted to.

“Both times I’ve seen you, you’ve been occupied with your daughter,” Jeongguk replies. “She’s adorable, by the way.”

Jimin softens almost instantly. “Yeah, she’s the cutest, thanks.”

Jeongguk tilts his head, a smirk pulling at his lips. “Is her daddy just as cute?” 

Jimin splutters, unprepared for Jeongguk’s comment. “I-what? You can’t just-“

“Sorry. Couldn’t help it. You’re easy to fluster, Jimin-ssi,” Jeongguk laughs, low and rich, holding up both hands in mock surrender. “Get so cute and red when you do.”

Jimin exhales, trying to collect himself. “You really shouldn’t say things like that.”

“Why not?” Jeongguk asks, his voice dipping lower, and Jimin swears he shifts an inch closer. “You aren’t the only one allowed to notice things, Jimin-ssi.”

Jimin can feel the heat rising in his neck, his cheeks rosying just like Jeongguk had said they would. “There’s not much to notice.”

Jeongguk hums, unconvinced, and studies him with amused eyes. “Who told you that?”

Jimin doesn’t know how to answer, so he doesn’t. He just stares at the suds circling in the washing machine and wills his racing heartbeat to slow.

“You can relax, you know. I won’t bite,” Jeongguk says after a moment. “Unless you want me to,” he adds with a wink, mirth laced in his voice. Jimin isn’t sure how much truth lies beneath the humour.

“Ah, Jeongguk-ssi-“ Jimin starts, blushing madly, rubbing a hand across his nape nervously.

“Do I make you nervous?

Yes. Yes, he does. And not in a bad way.

“I have a daughter,” Jimin says, as if that explains himself enough. It should. Jeongguk should know what he means. He’s unapproachable, undesirable - more importantly, unavailable.

But Jeongguk’s eyes sparkle with mischief, and he drops them down to Jimin’s lips for half a second like he can’t help himself. “Why does that matter?”

“And a wife,” Jimin adds quickly, his mind heavy and hazy.

Jeongguk’s lips curl up at the corners, a soft breath escaping his parted lips. “Why does that matter?” he repeats, but Jimin isn’t sure he can hear properly over the blood rushing in his ears.

Jimin swallows hard, looking down at his feet like they might tell him what to say. “Because it should.”

“Maybe.” Jeongguk’s voice drops just enough to blur the line between teasing and serious. “Or maybe it just means someone already knows you’re worth coming home to.”

Jimin laughs, a short and unexpected sound. “You always talk to people like this in laundry rooms?”

“No,” Jeongguk purrs, leaning in an inch closer before he’s gone just as quickly. “See you around, Jimin-ssi.”

The door closes softly behind him, leaving Jimin alone in the humming quiet of the laundry room.

For a moment, he doesn’t move. The washers drone on, the same steady mechanical rhythm as his heart thudding in his chest. The air still carries Jeongguk’s cologne - clean, fresh, heady and so distinctly Jeongguk it makes Jimin go a little dizzy.

He lets out a shaky breath.

Why does that matter?

The words replay in his head, sharp and heavy. They shouldn’t get to him. Jimin shouldn’t let them get to him. They don’t mean anything if Jimin doesn’t let them mean anything. He knows who he is - a husband, a father, a provider. A steady, responsible, unshakeable family man.

But Jeongguk’s voice follows him into the silence anyway, that teasing warmth curling around the edges of his thoughts, whispering, Is that all you are, Park Jimin?

Goosebumps rise on the back of Jimin’s neck, and he has to forcibly shake his head to get Jeongguk’s voice out of his mind.

He stands, gathers the basket and forces his feet back into the hallway. Back to his apartment. To his family. To his wife. Whether she’s speaking to him or not.

He tells himself it’s nothing. Just teasing. Just a conversation.

But as he walks past Jeongguk’s front door, his pace slows by a fraction, and Jimin already knows it’s a lie.

—————————✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧—————————

“Aji! Aji!” Eunha squeals, dashing along the path the second Jimin helps her out of the car.

“Eunha-yah!” Jimin scolds, his voice sharp with panic. But she’s already gone - all little legs and pigtails bobbing - before he can even shut the door. His phone, keys and her water bottle slip from his arms, clattering to the ground as he scrambles to scoop them up and chase after her, muttering a curse under his breath.

“Park Eunha!” he calls, and by the time he catches up, his heart is in his throat.

Jeongguk is already crouched down in front of her, his motorbike helmet tucked under his arm, and he’s gently holding her hand, whilst his eyebrows furrow slightly in the middle.

“-shouldn’t run off like that, Eunha-yah. I know you were excited, but you should wait for your daddy, okay? Otherwise, he’ll be worried,” Jeongguk explains softly but sternly as Jimin approaches. “I could be a stranger, and then you wouldn’t be safe. Do you understand?”

Eunha nods slightly, playing with Jeongguk’s fingers. “You’re not a stranger, Aji,” she says quietly, and Jimin can hear the pout in her voice.

“Eunha-yah,” Jimin says a little out of breath. “I told you to stay by the car, bug.”

Eunha turns, her eyes big and apologetic, shuffling her feet guiltily. “Sorry, Daddy.”

“You wanted to say hi to Jeongguk-ssi, right?” Jimin says, shifting the things in his arms awkwardly. Eunha nods. “That’s so nice of you, baby. But the car park can be dangerous. You can’t run off like that.”

“Okay…” Eunha mumbles.

“It’s alright,” Jeongguk says, standing and brushing off his knees. “She just missed her new favourite neighbour, didn’t you?”

Eunha nods and hides her face in Jimin’s thigh with a giggle.

“Favourite or not, she’s going to give me a heart attack,” Jimin huffs with a laugh, shaking his hair out of his eyes.

Jeongguk reacts quicker than Jimin’s brain has time to process, tucking the hair behind Jimin’s ear with a soft smile. “Here-“ Jeongguk says, gesturing towards the jumble of items in Jimin’s hands. “Let me help you.”

Jimin’s cheeks flush, and he temporarily clocks out of reality for long enough that Eunha’s lunch bag tumbles to the floor. “It’s fine, I’ve got it-“

“Let me help, Jimin-ssi,” Jeongguk insists, picking up the bag and taking Eunha’s waterbottle and Jimin’s work bag from his arms before Jimin can protest again.

“Thank you,” Jimin mumbles as Jeongguk turns towards their apartment building and Eunha bounds along beside him. Jimin stares for a moment, his heart squeezing in his chest, before he remembers himself and trails after them.

“I saw a squirrel today at school,” Eunha says as she climbs the stairs slowly, holding onto the railing carefully. “Have you ever seen a squrriel, Aji?”

Jeongguk nods and hums. “I have. They’re pretty cute, right? They fill their cheeks with nuts for their dinner.”

“Really?” Eunha asks in disbelief.

“Mhm, they take them back to their home and bury some for winter, too,” Jeongguk exclaims with a gentle tone.

Eunha blinks up at him, almost starstruck. “How do you know so much about squirrels?”

“I’m a grown-up. I know lots of things,” Jeongguk teases with a wink before holding out his hand and letting Eunha’s tiny fingers wrap around his pinky, guiding her up the stairs.

“I want to know lots of things,” Eunha states earnestly. “Daddy, can I know lots of things?”

“Of course you can,” Jimin chuckles softly. “You already know lots of things, bug. You’re very smart.”

“Are you the smartest kid in your class, Eunha-yah?” Jeongguk asks.

“No, Soojinnie is the smartest. She’s my bestest friend in the whole wide world,” Eunha declares proudly - it makes Jimin smile fondly.

Jeongguk squeezes her hand gently, swinging their arms. “Well, she’s lucky to have such a good best friend, then.”

Eunha blushes and giggles lightly as they push open the door to their floor, her little legs moving twice as quickly as Jeongguk to match his long strides.

“Let me take these to your door at least, Jimin-ssi,” Jeongguk offers, glancing over his shoulder.

“You really don’t have to-“

“Jimin-ssi,” Jeongguk says, his voice low but teasing. “If you say that one more time, I’ll start to think you just don’t want me around at all.”

Jimin huffs a small, nervous laugh. “I didn’t say that.”

Jeongguk’s face lights up, his teeth biting into his lower lip, but he doesn’t tease any further.

Jimin unlocks the apartment door and steps inside, secretly thankful that Jeongguk did help him carry his things from the car as he’s sure everything would’ve clattered to the floor by now. “Sorry it’s a bit messy,” he says sheepishly, kicking off his shoes and setting his things down on the kitchen counter.

“If this is messy, you wouldn’t want to see my apartment, Jimin-ssi,” Jeongguk admits with a smile. “It’s cosy, very homey.”

“Aji! Do you want to see my drawings?” Eunha asks, bouncing on the balls of her feet in her shark slippers. “Daddy, can I show him my drawings?”

“Quickly, Jeongguk-ssi probably has lots to do,” Jimin agrees, unpacking her lunchbox into the sink whilst Eunha dashes off to her bedroom.

“There’s nothing I’d rather be doing, Jimin-ssi,” Jeongguk says, tilting his head at Jimin, who refuses to catch his eye.

“Look! It’s a penguin, like Pororo,” Eunha exclaims, waving a crumpled piece of paper in Jeongguk’s face.

Jeongguk’s jaw drops open in exaggerated amazement. “Wow! This is awesome! You’re such a good artist, Eunha-yah.”

“She gets that from her mom,” Jimin murmurs automatically, then feels the heaviness of the words settle over him. Jeongguk glances up at him and gives a little nod, but doesn’t push any further.

Eunha tugs at Jeongguk’s sleeve, her face alight with joy. “Aji, are you gonna eat dinner with us?”

Jeongguk smiles at her, but his gaze flicks back to Jimin. “Only if your daddy says that’s okay.”

For a beat, Jimin can’t find the words. His throat feels too tight, his chest too full. He wants to say yes, clearly, Eunha wants him to say yes, but something in him tells him it’s a very bad idea, even though it feels like a very, very good one.

He clears his throat awkwardly, fumbling with Eunha’s water bottle. “Maybe another time,” he says gently, which is met by a soft groan of disappointment from Eunha.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Jeongguk nods with a gentle smile. “I’ll see you next time, okay, Eunha-yah?”

Eunha waves enthusiastically with a bright, toothy grin. “Bye-bye, Aji!” 

“Bye, Little Star,” he replies, and turns to meet Jimin’s eyes just for a moment too long. “See you soon, Jimin-ssi.”

Jimin can’t find the words, so he just hums and nods, bowing his head slightly as Jeongguk slips out of their apartment.

The door closes behind him, and Jimin leans forward on the counter, closing his eyes and letting out a deep breath. He lets the cool water run over his fingers as he turns on the tap at the sink, praying that it’ll quell some of the heat still radiating through his chest.

Jeongguk’s voice lingers - There’s nothing I’d rather be doing.

Jimin squeezes his eyes shut, his head bowed between his shoulders.

He wants to call Jeongguk back. But part of him knows he doesn’t want to call him back just for dinner.

He shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t. Really, seriously, shouldn’t.

The effort it takes to resist is more than Jimin would ever like to admit.

—————————✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧—————————

Jimin finds himself wandering down to the laundry room after he’s put Eunha to sleep, and Sooyeon is occupied in their bedroom more often than necessary.

He doesn’t really need to do a load - the basket is only half-full - but it offers him some alone time outside of the apartment that’s not spent at work, at school picking up Eunha, or taking her to the park.

He refuses to admit that half of the reason he finds himself down there is that he hopes Jeongguk will be there too.

He doesn’t have to hope for much longer, as the door swings open as Jimin is loading the washing into the tumble dryer, and Jeongguk walks in with a basket tucked under his arm.

“Jimin-ssi,” Jeongguk says lightly. “Twice in one week. Are you waiting here for me?”

Yes, actually.

“No,” Jimin hurries to answer. “Just need to wash Eunha-yah’s uniform. She got paint all over her skirt.”

“Ever the artist,” Jeongguk replies, placing the basket down and settling on the bench beside Jimin. “She’s a great kid.”

Jimin smile softly. “She is. And she adores you already, somehow. Won’t stop talking about you.”

Jeongguk laughs loudly, his smile wide and bright. “Somehow? You don’t adore me, too, Jimin-ssi?”

The blond blushes lightly, huffing out a small laugh and looking down at his feet. “You flatter yourself, Jeongguk-ssi.”

“Mm,” Jeongguk replies, feigning contemplation. “Must’ve imagined the way you can’t stop staring at me then.”

Jimin chokes on his spit. “W-What? I don’t stare.”

“You’re so cute when you get flustered. And when you lie, too,” Jeongguk sniggers, bumping his shoulder against Jimin’s. Jimin is sure he’s closer than he was before.

“I’m not flustered or lying,” Jimin argues gently, brushing his hair off his forehead. “You’re the one who keeps… smouldering.”

“Smouldering?” Jeongguk laughs incredulously.

Jimin shrugs, turning to face Jeongguk slightly. “Yeah, looking at me like you want to see me naked.”

Jimin doesn’t know why he says it, doesn’t know why he’s crossed the line of strangers to something he doesn’t know how to label. The words hang there, half-joking, half-not.

“Well, in that case,” Jeongguk starts, a smirk creeping onto his lips. “I guess you’re right.”

Jimin’s cheeks burn, his heart hammering against his ribs. This is too much, too bold for innocent teasing. The way Jeongguk says it, low and certain, leaves no room for misinterpretation. They’ve crossed the line now. There’s something disarming in Jeongguk’s voice - an honesty that makes it impossible for Jimin to pretend it’s just teasing anymore.

“Relax, Jimin-ssi,” Jeongguk adds gently, amusement flickering in his eyes. “You’re allowed to joke.”

Jimin swallows hard and looks back. He wonders if Jeongguk knows he wasn’t joking. “Good,” he says, clearing his throat.

“You should make some more time for yourself, you know. I see you running around with Eunha-yah all the time,” Jeongguk states, his voice soft and lacking the teasing edge Jimin has already become used to. “You’re working so hard.”

Jimin exhales, tension draining out with his breath. “Yeah. It can be a lot. But she’s worth it.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to be worth time, too, Jimin-ssi,” Jeongguk replies gently. “You were Jimin before you were Daddy.”

The words land softly but surely. No one has been able to read him like this before, not even Sooyeon, his wife. The tiredness and the guilt about the tiredness don’t suddenly disappear, but it certainly mellows. And Jimin doesn’t know how Jeongguk managed to do that with just a few words.

“You make it sound so easy,” Jimin laughs shakily, ducking his head to hide his face.

“It’s not,” Jeongguk murmurs. “But it could be. If you allowed yourself to want what you want and not feel guilty about it.”

Jimin lifts his head, catching Jeongguk’s gaze, and for a few seconds neither of them speaks. Jeongguk’s eyes are soft, with only a tiny hint of mischief in the pools of brown.

“Thanks,” Jimin says quietly.

“For what?”

“For saying that. For noticing.”

Jeongguk’s lips twitch into a smile, gently placing a hand on Jimin’s shoulder. A sharp bolt of electricity jolts through Jimin’s entire body, right down to his toes.

“Someone should.”

Jimin hears the words, though they were never spoken - your wife should. He shudders; Jeongguk is right, Sooyeon should notice, but she doesn’t, so he supposes he has to rely on a new acquaintance in the laundry room, who he may or may not be extremely attracted to, for the emotional support he should be getting from his life partner.

Jimin traces a loose screw on the bench with his thumb, pretending it needs his full attention. “You should come over for dinner one night. Eunha-yah has been asking all week.”

“Dinner?” Jeongguk grins, leaning a little closer. “I’d like that. Tell me when.”

There’s no hesitation, just immediate certainty - just the kind of confidence that makes Jimin’s pulse skip. A flicker of satisfaction passes over Jeongguk’s eyes, and it makes Jimin shudder.

“Tomorrow?” Jimin replies quickly before he can second-guess it. “We always go to the playground after school on Fridays, but I’ll let you know when we’re back. Sooyeon-ah usually comes home around seven.”

Jeongguks hums and nods. “How about I give you my number and you can text me when you’re ready?” His gaze lingers just long enough to make the air between heavier. “I’d love to help cook for you, Jimin-ssi.”

Jimin fumbles his phone out of his pocket, cursing under his breath when it nearly slips from his grip. His fingers brush Jeongguk’s as he hands it over - a fleeting touch, but enough to make his breath stutter.

“There,” Jeongguk says, saving his contact with a quick selfie as the photo before handing Jimin’s phone back to him with a gentle smile. “Now you won’t forget who I am.”

Jimin stares down at the little circle picture, at Jeongguk’s lips in a pout, winking at Jimin like they both know the implication of having Jeongguk’s number now.

“See you tomorrow, Jimin-ssi,” Jeongguk murmurs, his tone soft now, like a promise. He pushes off the bench, gives a small, knowing wink and disappears through the door before Jimin can find the right words to answer.

The sound of the door closing echoes louder than it should.

Jimin exhales slowly, leaning both hands on the wood of the bench, his head bowed between his shoulders. His chest rises and falls in an uneven rhythm, his heartbeat skipping in his chest, his entire body one degree off kilter, like it’s been suddenly dysregulated just by Jeongguk’s presence - everything he’s ever known upended by a wink.

It’s as Jimin picks up his own basket to head back upstairs that he realises something’s off.

The machines hum quietly behind him - his load turning, soap bubbling.

The machine next to his is empty.

Jeongguk didn’t come down here to do laundry at all.

—————————✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧—————————

“I have a surprise for you, bug,” Jimin says, Eunha’s hand in his, their arms swinging as they walk back from the playground.

“I love surprises!” Eunha exclaims, tugging on Jimin’s hand."

“I know you do, Eunha-yah,” Jimin replies with a chuckle. “Jeongguk-ssi from next door is coming over for dinner tonight.”

Eunha lets out a high-pitched squeal, jumping up and down, her pigtails bouncing on her head. “WAH! Really?! Like really, really?”

Jimin smiles down at her, trying to keep her running off in her excitement. “Really, really,” he says fondly. “But you have to be on your best behaviour, okay? Homework first, clean up your toys and then if you’re good, I’ll invite Jeongguk-ssi to come over.”

“I’ll be good! I’ll be the best,” Eunha declares with a firm nod, straightening her back and walking with military precision. “I’ll do my homework in twenty, or-or eighteen seconds!”

“That’s my girl,” Jimin replies, squeezing her hand affectionately. “Then you can show Jeongguk-ssi how good you are at cooking.”

“I’m gonna show him my drawings, too! And Tokki!” Eunha mutters quickly, her words tumbling over themselves in her excitement. “Aji looks a bit like Tokki.”

Jimin nods and huffs out a soft laugh. “He does a little, doesn’t he?”

Jimin has to blink quickly when he realises how softly he had spoken.

By the time they reach their building, Eunha is beyond excited. She points out Jeongguk’s motorbike as they pass by the car park, shouts an excited “Hello!” through his front door as they pass by, before Jimin ushers her inside their own apartment and is nearly vibrating as Jimin sits her down to get her homework done.

She streams through the mathematics, quickly adding and subtracting the numbers and getting impatient when Jimin asks her to show her working.

“Daddyyy,” she whines, resting her head on the table dramatically. “Can we please go and get Aji now? Pleeease?”

Jimin glances at his phone. He was going to text, just like Jeongguk suggested. But he really can’t bring himself to deny his daughter anything, especially when she uses that tone of voice and looks up at him with those big, wide, pleading eyes.

“Clean up your toys, then we can go,” Jimin agrees, and before he has even finished his sentence, Eunha hops down from the table and rushes around picking up her toys, stray crayons and teddies scattered across the living room floor.

“Done!” she cheers, bouncing on her toes.

Jimin has never seen her tidy that quickly ever before in her life.

He chuckles softly, grabs his keys and, gesturing to the door, shoves his feet into his outside slippers and slips out into the hallway. Eunha is knocking on Jeongguk’s door before Jimin has even shut theirs.

The door opens a moment later, and Jeongguk leans against the door frame in a dark grey zipped hoodie, a matching tank top, and baggy grey jeans, his hair a little damp and curling around his face.

“Well, this is a nice surprise,” he says, eyes flicking from Eunha’s excited grin to Jimin’s sheepish smile.

“Daddy said you can come for dinner, Aji!” Eunha announces, giggling into her hands.

Jeongguk laughs low and warm. “Did he now?”

Before Jimin can apologise for showing up at his door, instead of messaging, a quiet meow interrupts them. A small Balinese cat slips between Jeongguk’s ankles and winds around his legs, tail flicking lazily.

Eunha gasps so loudly that Jimin almost winces. “Aji! You have a kitty?! What’s its name? Can I pet it?”

Jeongguk crouches, scooping the cat into his arms with practised ease. “His name is Hokusai or Hoku for short.”

“Like the painter?” Jimin asks, before he can stop himself.

Jeongguk grins, tilting his head slightly. “Exactly like the painter.”

Their eyes meet and there’s something the passes between them, something so charged Jimin feels the hairs on his arms stand on end.

Eunha stretches out her hand slowly, letting Hoku sniff her fingers before pressing his head into her palm. Her delighted giggle fills the hallway, echoing off the walls.

“She loves him already,” Jimin murmurs.

“She has good taste,” Jeongguk replies, his hand softly petting Hoku’s back, his gaze lingering on Jimin a fraction too long. “I guess we both do.”

Jimin’s pulse skips. He clears his throat, gently steering Eunha back. “Say thank you to Jeongguk-ssi, bug. We’ll let him-“

“Can Hoku come, too?” Eunha interrupts, scratching the cat behind the ears.

Jeongguk chuckles softly. “He has the biggest appetite I’ve ever known; he’ll eat everything in sight. But you can come and see him any time you like, okay, Little Star?”

Eunha lights up, letting Jeongguk set Hokusai down before shutting his apartment door behind him. She then grabs Jeongguk’s hand and darts to their apartment.

“Daddy, can we get a kitty?” Eunha asks as Jimin presses his keys into the lock and opens the door wide.

“Cats are a big responsibility, bug,” Jimin explains, laying down a pair of slippers for Jeongguk to take. “When you’re a little older, we’ll think about it.”

“Daddy sneezes a lot when we go to Tae-samchon and Hobi-samchon’s house. They have two kitties, did you know that, Aji?” Eunha mumbles, dragging Jeongguk into the kitchen and setting her stool by the counter.

Jimin laughs sheepishly, reaching into the fridge for the ingredients. “I’m mildly allergic. But also a big cat-lover. The universe makes me love the most perfect creatures, but also makes my nose itch when I’m around them.”

“Maybe the universe couldn’t stand perfection meeting perfection,” Jeongguk says, grinning slowly, rolling up his sleeves.

Jimin’s cheeks flush, and he doesn’t meet Jeongguk’s eye, afraid of what he’ll see in them when he does. “You should really stop saying things like that.”

“And yet you keep smiling when I do.”

Jimin ignores him and ignores the heat rising on the back of his neck, in favour of laying out Eunha’s chopping board and knife in front of her.

“We’re making jjangjangmyeon, is that okay, Jeongguk-ssi?” Jimin asks, setting a saucepan of water to boil on the stove.

“It’s my favourite, Aji!” Eunha explains, slowly slicing into half a white onion with her tongue poking out in concentration.

“She says that about everything,” Jimin laughs, glancing over his shoulder to see that Jeongguk is holding the chopping board steady, his attention entirely on Eunha with concerned eyes. Jimin’s heart flutters in his chest.

By the time dinner’s ready, the apartment smells like garlic and soy and something sweet from the pan-fried tofu Jeongguk insisted on cooking his way when he nudged Jimin out of the way with his hip and a cocky smirk.

The kitchen is filled with laughter, both high-pitched and giggly, and low and warm, and Jimin doesn’t remember a time when their home felt so lively, so joyful. There’s something added to the usual fun Jimin and Eunha have together that Jimin can’t quite put his finger on.

“You’re a good cook,” Jimin says softly from beside him as they lay out the bowls onto the dining table.

“My hyungs wouldn’t let me move out of our place before teaching me how to cook properly,” Jeongguk explains, turning the tofu in the pan with his chopsticks. “The rest I learnt because I’m such a foodie.”

“Well, tell them, thanks,” Jimin replies with a smile. “I haven’t seen Eunha this excited since the time we had birthday cake for dinner.”

“I’m glad,” Jeongguk smiles. “I hope you’re excited too, Jimin-ssi.”

The knock of heels on hardwood cuts through the air before Jimin can answer. Jimin looks up as Sooyeon steps through the door, her hair tucked behind her ears, glasses pushed onto her head, her face drawn from a long day at work.

“Mommy!” Eunha chirps from her chair. “Look, look! We made jjangjangmyeon and tofu, and did you know Aji has a kitty? Do you want to see it? His name is Hoku!”

Sooyeon blinks, her eyes landing on Jeongguk, who offers a polite bow and an easy smile. “Oh,” she says, slipping off her shoes. “Hi, you must be Jeongguk-ssi. From next door. I’m Sooyeon.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Sooyeon-ssi,” Jeongguk replies smoothly. “You have a lovely home. I hope you don’t mind me intruding. Eunha-yah insisted.”

Sooyeon’s lips twitch upwards slightly, not quite a smile. “She usually gets what she wants.” She hangs up her coat and slips off her blazer, setting her glasses down on the sideboard. “Smells good.”

Jimin nods, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “Jeongguk-ssi helped. Or more like did most of it, actually.”

Dinner is filled with soft conversation and clinking chopsticks, with Eunha’s chattering enough to fill every silence. She talks about school, about her new obsession with Hoku, about drawing and painting. She asks Jeongguk a million and one questions, which he diligently and eagerly answers each time, making her giggle until she hiccups.

Sooyeon eats quietly, reserved like usual, glancing up to meet Jimin’s eye before turning back to her bowl.

When Eunha jumps up to fetch her latest drawing from her bedroom, the quiet that follows is heavy, not quite awkward, but close to it.

“She really likes you,” Sooyeon says finally, looking at Jeongguk with an unreadable expression. “She doesn’t open up to people that quickly.”

Jeongguk nods, his tone even and respectful. “She’s a special kid. It’s easy to like her.”

Jimin swallows. There’s something about the way Jeongguk says it - simple and honest that lodges in his chest.

Sooyeon leans back with a small smile. “Well, thank you for keeping her entertained. And for helping cook. Jimin-ah doesn’t usually let anyone near the kitchen.”

“He’s a good teacher,” Jeongguk replies, lifting his head to catch Jimin’s eyes.

There’s a beat that passes where neither of them looks away, and Sooyeon notices, eyes flicking between the two men.

“I’m going to wash up,” Sooyeon says lightly, pressing a hand to Jimin’s shoulder in a way that should be affectionate but feels more like habit. “It was good to meet you, Jeongguk-ssi. Please feel free to cook for us again.”

Jeongguk nods, bowing slightly with a polite smile. When the bathroom door closes, Jimin stands and carries the dishes to the sink, trying to breathe normally again.

Eunha darts out of her bedroom and barrels into Jeongguk’s legs, crawling into his lap with pieces of paper clutched in her hand.

Jimin watches for a while - watches as Jeongguk nods and points and asks Eunha more about her art with genuine interest, watches as Eunha lights up, fidgeting in his lap, chattering endlessly about the stories she makes up for her paintings, telling Jeongguk that when she grows up, she wants to paint forever and ever and ever.

It makes his heart ache. How Jeongguk has fit so easily into their lives after such a short amount of time is beyond him, and it’s worrying how large an impression he has made already. On Eunha. On him.

“Aji, you wait there, okay? I’m going to get Tokki,” Eunha declares, hopping off his lap and running to her room again, bounding back out holding her bunny plushy to her chest.

“Why, hello there, Tokki-ssi. It’s so nice to meet you,” Jeongguk says politely, bowing and taking the bunny’s paw in his hand. Eunha giggles, using her fingers to make Tokki wave back with the other hand. “Do you make sure Little Star is safe and sound at night, hm?” Tokki’s head nods, and Jeongguk hums in appreciation. “Good. Make sure she gets lots of rest so she can think well and play nicely every day, okay?” Tokki’s head nods again, and its arms wrap around Jeongguk’s wrist in a hug, coupled with Eunha’s soft giggling.

“Did you know Tokki’s favourite colour is green?” Eunha asks, playing with Tokki’s floppy ears. “Mine is blue, but Tokki likes green, he told me.”

“Both colours are very beautiful,” Jeongguk hums, leaning forwards onto his elbows. “Do you know what colour you mix with blue to make green?” Eunha shakes her head, eagerly looking up at Jeongguk for the answer. “Yellow. And guess what? My favourite colour is yellow.”

“No way!” Eunha shrieks, jumping and down. “Did you hear that, Daddy? Aji’s favourite colour is your favourite colour.”

“That’s great, bug,” Jimin chuckles, stacking up the dishes on the drying rack.

“Next time you’re painting, try mixing yellow and blue and see if you can make green,” Jeongguk suggests, curling Eunha’s pigtail around his finger absent-mindedly.

“Okay! Daddy, can I go to school tomorrow and paint?”

“Tomorrow is Saturday. You’ll have to wait till Monday,” Jimin reasons.

Eunha sighs loudly, her shoulders sagging a little. “That’s soooo far away.”

Jeongguk pats her on the head gently. “But that just means you have something to look forward to, right?”

Eunha nods slowly, but still pouts, her bottom lip jutting out sadly.

“I should go back and check on Hoku, but how about you show me one more drawing before I go, hm?” Jeongguk says, and Eunha’s face lights up again, dashing into her room once again.

“You’re so good with her,” Jimin points out, drying his hands and sitting down next to Jeongguk at the table.

Jeongguk shrugs and makes a noncommittal noise. “It’s not like she makes it hard. You’re a great dad,” he says earnestly. “I’m sure Sooyeon-ssi is a great mom, too,” he adds after a beat.

Jimin hums, but doesn’t reply. Eunha runs back towards them, showing Jeongguk a picture that she says is a prince in a castle, but a little (a lot) more abstract.

“This is awesome, Little Star. Thank you for showing me all your drawings,” Jeongguk says softly. “You’ll have to show me more next time, okay?”

“Can I come and see Hoku with you?” she asks, her eyes wide and pleading.

Jimin shakes his head fondly. “Next time, bug. You gotta say bye to Aji, and then we need to give you a bath.”

“Bye-bye, Aji,” Eunha says sadly, dropping her head.

“Don’t be sad, Eunha-yah. I’m sure we’ll all see each other again another time,” Jeongguk replies, stroking the top of her hair.

“Promise?”

“Pinky promise.” Jeongguk hooks his pinky around Eunha’s much, much smaller one and jiggles her playfully, a small giggle bursting out of Eunha like she can’t help herself.

“Thanks for dinner, Jimin-ssi,” Jeongguk says, standing and heading to the door. “I’ll see you soon, too.” He winks, pulls open the door and is gone before Jimin can reply, leaving him a little breathless in his chair.

He watches the now-empty space where Jeongguk was with something that feels a lot like longing.

—————————✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧—————————

Jimin doesn’t know where the rain came from.

One minute, the sky was bright with fluffy white clouds passing by; the next, the heavens had opened and began pouring as Jimin and Eunha made a dash from her school gates to the car, splashing in small puddles along the way.

Eunha loves the rain, laughing hysterically at how fast the windscreen wipers have to move to battle the torrential downpour, shouting over the sound of the rain against the roof of the car, kicking her feet excitedly in her car seat.

Jimin is more focused on not skidding on the wet tarmac.

When they pull up to their apartment building, Jimin curses under his breath that he didn’t think to pack an umbrella, nor did he think to pack Eunha’s raincoat, so he resigns himself to the fact that they’re more likely going to be drenched from head to toe between the car and the lobby door. Coupled with the fact that some random car is parked in Jimin’s spot, so they’re even further from the door. Perfect.

“Eunha-yah, listen,” Jimin says, unplugging his seatbelt before leaning into the back and undoing Eunha’s straps. “We’re going to have to run to the door, okay? I’ll get out and grab our stuff, and when I open your door, you hold my hand and we run, okay?”

“Okay! Can I jump in some puddles, Daddy?” Eunha asks, peering out of the rainy windows with curious eyes.

“No, star, not right now. You don’t have any boots on and you’ll catch a cold,” Jimin reasons, pocketing his phone, keys and wallet and readying himself to dash out of the car.

Jimin takes a deep breath and flings the driver’s side door open, muttering under his breath about how the rain instantly soaks him through. He squints through the downpour, pops open the side door to Eunha’s howls of laughter, grabs her school bag and his work bag before winding an arm behind her legs.

“Okay, okay, come on, bug,” he urges, voice raised over the thunder of the storm. “Jump down - one, two-“

A blur of movement cuts across the parking lot before he can finish.

Jeongguk’s there - hood up, umbrella tilted against the wind, rain slicking his hair flat to his forehead. “You’ll both drown in seconds,” he calls, breathless but grinning, and before Jimin can even process anything, Jeongguk is pressing the umbrella into his hand and lifting Eunha from her carseat.

“Aji! You came to save us!” she squeals, delighted, curling her arms around his neck.

Jeongguk laughs, tickling her side. “Of course I did, Little Star. Can’t let anything happen to you or your daddy.”

Jimin shakes his head, half in disbelief, half in gratitude. “You’re insane,” he says, a small, startled smile tugging at his mouth as they make a break for the door, Jeongguk holding Eunha in his arms as he speeds ahead, covering her head with his hand as she shrieks with laughter.

Inside the lobby, they’re both breathing hard, droplets of water sliding off their hair and coats and onto the tiles. Jimin gives the umbrella a shake, whilst Jeongguk sets Eunha back down on her feet, turning to Jimin with a wink. “You look like you swam here.”

Jimin swipes a hand over his face. “Feels like it.”

“That was the most fun ever!” Eunha announces, shaking her hair like a dog, water flying from the ends of her long, dark hair.

“Come up to mine,” Jeongguk says easily. “We can have some tea, dry off.”

Jimin hesitates only for a second before Eunha tugs on his hand. “Please, Daddy? I wanna see Hoku again!”

Jimin doesn’t need much more convincing; both Jeongguk and his daughter know how to work their charm.

Jeongguk’s apartment smells faintly of the soft detergent he uses, of the heady cologne he wears and of green tea. Warmth hits him immediately as they step inside, Hoku hopping off the couch and stretching, tail high, before trotting over to Eunha, who kneels on the floor and opens her arms to him immediately. “Hoku-yah! Did you miss me?” she coos, holding her hand out as Hoku bumps his head into her palm.

“I think that’s a yes,” Jeongguk laughs quietly, setting the kettle to boil as he tries not to drip all over the wood floors.

Jimin stands by the doorway, rubbing his damp hair with a towel Jeongguk tossed him. His clothes cling tightly to him, his blazer stiff and heavy, but beneath it, his white work shirt is practically sheer from the rain. He pulls it tightly over his chest, buttoning it up, despite the way the coolness prickles his skin in contrast to the warmth of Jeongguk’s apartment.

He watches as Hoku rolls onto his back, Eunha running her hands along his belly before standing and chasing him around the living room, her wet socks slipping along the floors.

Jeongguk leans against the counter, studying him from across the room. “You should change, or at least take that off before you catch something,” he says, gesturing to Jimin’s blazer.

Jimin finally manages to look at him properly, without the rain in his eyes.

Jeongguk is a vision - damp hair curling atop his head, his cheeks a little rosy from the bite of the cold, his red lips slightly parted. He’s wearing biker’s leather, the material strapped tight to his body, his chest bulging, thighs straining against trousers. Jimin gulps and looks away before his cheeks redden even more.

“I’ll survive,” he says, patting himself dry, his voice a little quieter now, shy even. Jeongguk glances over him, stopping on his chest, the white material see-through before he averts his gaze, clearing his throat and slipping into his bedroom.

He returns with a hoodie, so oversized that Jimin doesn’t know how Jeongguk doesn’t drown in it. He holds it out for Jimin to take with a soft smile on his lips. “Just in case,” he says, pressing it into Jimin’s hand, before turning to the bedroom and stripping out of the leather.

Jimin pauses for a moment, his thumb brushing over the soft fabric of Jeongguk’s hoodie before deciding it’s much too soft for Jimin not to want to wear it. He shrugs off his blazer, finally free of the uncomfortable weight and slips his head through the hole.

It smells so, so, so good that Jimin can’t resist lifting the collar and inhaling the scent. It smells so much like Jeongguk that it makes him dizzy.

Jimin slips off his shoes and sits down on the couch, watching as Eunha teases Hoku with a toy mouse and chatters away like the cat could speak back. Jeongguk returns in sweats, and brings over two mugs of steaming tea, setting them down in front of Jimin before sitting down beside him, close enough that their knees touch. The rain outside doesn’t let up - it drums steadily against the balcony glass, soft and rhythmic, filling the silence that stretches comfortably between them.

Hoku gives up chasing the mouse and curls up in the shape of a collar, beady eyes watching as Eunha starts stacking coasters on top of each other, narrating to herself, or to Hoku, Jimin isn’t sure.

“Thank you, Jeongguk-ssi,” Jimin says, wrapping his hands around the mug of tea and bringing it to his lips.

“You really don’t have to thank me,” Jeongguk replies after a moment, his voice low and warm. “You looked like you were about to start swimming laps out there. You’re adorable, but I’d rather you didn’t get pneumonia.”

Jimin huffs a laugh and desperately tries to ignore the flirting. “I didn’t even realise the umbrella wasn’t in the car. That’s how fried my brain has been.”

Jeongguk tilts his head. “Long week?”

“Long five years more like,” Jimin answers honestly, gaze unfocused on the rain-blurred city through Jeongguk’s windows. “Between work, Eunha-yah… keeping things balanced at home, sometimes I forget what quiet sounds like.”

Jeongguk hums softly, sipping his tea. “You seem like you’ve forgotten how to take up time for yourself.”

Jimin’s brows knit together. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean,” Jeongguk says simply, setting his mug down and turning to Jimin with so much honesty in his eyes it overwhelms him a little. “You pour yourself into every aspect of your life apart from yourself. Your daughter, your work, everything. And then there’s nothing left for you.”

Jimin looks down at his tea, watching the water swirl, unsure of what to say. It’s startling how easily Jeongguk has read him, again - how the words cut through the layers of exhaustion he’s cocooned himself in, how they slice right into the cordial politeness and friendliness that seems too simple for whatever their relationship has so quickly become.

“There’s a difference between selfishness and just taking some time to be you,” Jeongguk continues. “You’re allowed to ask for help. And you’re allowed to take time away from it all sometimes.”

Jimin runs his thumb along the mug absent-mindedly, trying to form some kind of reply that is more sufficient than just a thank you. Jeongguk has peeled him open and treated him with delicate, gentle care like he’s a pearl inside an oyster.

“She’s lucky to have you,” Jeongguk adds after a beat, glancing towards Eunha playing on the floor. “You can see it in everything she does. So confident and carefree. You can see it in the way she looks at you, too.”

That makes Jimin smile, his gaze lifting to his daughter, her tongue peeking out between her lips in concentration as she balances the coasters, whilst avoiding Hoku’s swiping paws.

“She’s the best part of me,” he says after a while. “Sometimes it feels like she’s the only part I got right.”

“You got other parts right, Jimin-ssi,” Jeongguk murmurs, turning to Jimin with soft eyes. Jimin sees something flicker over them, something too dangerous to name.

“Maybe,” Jimin shrugs, taking a sip from his tea.

“I could tell you all the parts of you that are right, but we might be here for a while,” Jeongguk laughs, brushing a strand of hair behind Jimin’s ear.

Jeongguk’s voice lingers in the air, low and warm, laughter melting into something softer. His fingers graze Jimin’s skin as he brushes the hair away, the touch tingling and making every muscle in Jimin’s body go still, heat flooding his cheeks.

There’s something in the way Jeongguk looks at him that Jimin wants to chase; his eyes are teasing yet honest, like every word he says, he is certain, even if it makes Jimin’s heart flutter.

Jimin swallows, his chest tightening. He knows this is dangerous; he knows he should laugh it off, to move the conversation along. But he’s a weak man for someone as… perfect as Jeongguk.

“Will you tell me anyway?” he whispers.

Jeongguk’s lips curve into a slow smile, his eyes crinkling fondly. He doesn't hesitate before saying, “Your kindness, your selflessness, your fierce love and affection,” Jeongguk starts softly. “Your laugh, your smile, your patience. How beautiful you are, how you go so red when you’re shy. The colour of your lips when you bite him too hard. Your lips in general. I think about them all the time,” he continues, his gaze dropping down to Jimin’s mouth and back up to his eyes. “You have this kind of gravity, Jimin-ssi. It makes it almost impossible to look away if I ever wanted to.”

Jimin doesn’t breathe. The space between them is alive and thrumming. It’s not the heat of the moment that surprises and overwhelms him the most; it’s the sincerity in Jeongguk’s voice, like each sound is law, like each sound is sure and meant for Jimin and Jimin alone.

Jimin’s hand twitches on his thigh, aching to reach out, to touch Jeongguk, to allow himself to be held-

“Daddy, look!” Eunha pipes up suddenly, pointing at the pile of coasters. “I made a castle.”

Jimin clears his throat and turns his attention to her, setting his mug down on the coffee table. “Wow, you did such a good job, bug.”

The tension breaks, but only by a little. He can see Jeongguk still looking at him in his periphery, and worries about what he’ll see when he looks back - what he’ll do, more importantly.

So he doesn’t.

He stands and brushes himself down. “Let’s get home, Eunha-yah, we need to do your homework and make dinner.”

Eunha pouts before carefully setting her ‘castle’ on the coffee table proudly and squatting down to stroke Hoku’s back.

“Can I come and play again, Aji?” she asks hopefully.

Jeongguk nods and drains his mug. “Sure you can, Little Star.”

“Thank you for the tea, Jeongguk-ssi,” Jimin says, lifting the hem of Jeongguk’s hoodie over his head at the door and hurrying to cover his chest with his blazer - his white shirt still sheer from the rain.

“Anytime, Jimin-ssi,” Jeongguk replies as he holds the door open with a gentle smile.

He looks like he’s about to say something else before Eunha’s little arms curl around his legs, her cheek pressed to his knee. “Thank you for letting me play with Hoku, Aji! You’re the best!”

Jeongguk freezes for a second, and so does Jimin, before he laughs softly, stroking a hand through Eunha’s hair. “You’re very welcome. You’re always welcome here. Hoku might even miss you already.”

Eunha beams up at him, eyes wide and sparkling. “I’ll visit him soon! And maybe I’ll bring Tokki so he won’t be lonely!”

“Sounds like a plan, Little Star,” Jeongguk says, smiling so wide his dimples show, barely there but adorable all the same.

Jimin watches the exchange, his heart nearly bursting out of his chest, something deep inside tightening - a mixture of affection and disbelief. He hasn’t seen Eunha take to someone this quickly in a long time. Sooyeon was right.

“Okay, bug,” Jimin says softly. “We need to get you into dry clothes before you turn into an icicle!”

“Nooo! I don’t wanna be an icicle,” Eunha whines with a giggle, waving to Jeongguk and Hoku, who has already fallen asleep in the warm spot Jimin left on the couch.

“See you later, Jimini-ssi,” Jeongguk replies, leaning against the door frame, his voice tender.

Jimin nods, clutching his damp blazer closer as they step into the hallway, turning a few paces before reaching their own door. He looks back to see Jeongguk standing halfway out of his door, watching them go.

It should feel ordinary. Neighbourly. But it doesn’t.

It feels like the beginning of something neither of them has the power to stop, even if they wanted to.

—————————✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧—————————

It hasn’t been a good day.

Eunha had nightmares most of the night, waking up in her bed sobbing and screaming out in fear, calling for Jimin’s comfort, which instantly came as soon as he heard her shuffle awake like a sixth sense.

He’d rocked her back to sleep, kissing away her tears, softly humming lullabies until her breathing evened out and she went limp in his arms, before waking up with a start to do it all over again. 

Jimin had tried getting her to sleep on the couch, cartoons playing softly in the background until her eyes fell heavy, but she woke again not long after, inconsolable because Jimin had nipped to the bathroom whilst she was asleep.

She had eventually worn herself out from crying, and Jimin had carried her into his and Sooyeon’s bedroom, tucking her in between them, though Sooyeon barely stirred. He’d stayed awake, restless and unable to fall asleep until exhaustion took him too. His alarm blared just two hours later.

Eunha had been clingy and needy in the morning, holding onto Sooyeon’s arm and screaming the roof down when Sooyeon pried her away and left for work. Jimin could do nothing to console her, not even bribery with her favourite chocolate or the promise of staying home from school, to which she actually began crying more.

And when Jimin had picked Eunha up after school, she had quietly cried into his neck as he carried her to the car, asking why he had come to collect her and not Mommy like she had wanted.

So, it really hasn’t been a good day.

Eunha is currently lying on the couch with a blanket tucked up to her chin, Tokki squeezed to her chest, whilst Jimin is recording their finances on the spreadsheet on his laptop with her feet in his lap.

“Daddy, can I have some ice cream, please?” Eunha mumbles, not taking her eyes off the screen.

Jimin sighs softly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No, bug. You’ve just had some.”

“But Daddy-“ Eunha begins to protest.

“I said no, Eunha-yah,” Jimin replies a little sharply. “It’ll keep you awake, and you need to get lots of sleep tonight.”

Eunha buries further under the blanket, and Jimin swears he sees her stick her tongue out at him, but can’t bring himself to care about discipline right now.

The front door swings open a moment later, and Sooyeon walks in sluggishly, her heels clipping against the wood floor. “I’m home,” she announces, toeing off her shoes and setting down her bag.

“Mommy!” Eunha cries, holding out her arms.

Sooyeon’s eyebrows furrow as she slips off her coat, looking between Eunha and Jimin. “What’s wrong? Is she sick?”

“What don’t you ask her yourself? She’s your daughter,” Jimin bites, his patience wavering and temper frayed.

Sooyeon swallows hard and pads over, crouching down beside the couch and brushing her hand through Eunha’s hair. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

“I had nightmares,” Eunha mumbles sadly, her fingers curling around Tokki’s ears.

“Is that why you slept with us last night?” Sooyeon asks gently, sitting back on her heels, her hand dropping by her side - Eunha chases her warmth.

She nods slowly. “Will you cuddle with me so I don’t have any more nightmares?”

Sooyeon hesitates for a moment, chewing her bottom lip. “Why don’t you ask Daddy?”

“Because she wants you, Sooyeon-ah. She wants her mother. She’s wanted you all day,” Jimin snaps, slamming the laptop shut and standing up abruptly. “Is it so hard to spend time with your own daughter?”

Sooyeon blinks at him, caught by surprise at his outburst, her cheeks reddening. Jimin breathes hard, his head spinning from exhaustion, irritation and disappointment all mixing together. He’s not sure he even regrets snapping - it feels a little too close to relief to be comfortable.

“Don’t speak to me like that. I’m your wife,” Sooyeon argues, sitting up on the couch by Eunha’s legs, who softly whines and tries to shuffle closer.

“Sometimes it doesn’t feel like it. Doesn’t feel like you’re the mother of my child when she’s crying for you and you try and pawn her off on me,” Jimin spits, setting his laptop on the dining table with a heavy hand. “I’ve been going to her all day. She wants you. Pay attention to her.”

“I do, I’m just tired and you-“

“Don’t fight,” comes a little voice, small and trembling. Eunha looks up at them with big, wet eyes, her fingers twisting in Tokki’s fur.

They both freeze. Guilt gnaws its way through Jimin’s insides, creeping up his throat. “Hey, hey. We’re not fighting, bug. We’re just having a disagreement.”

Sooyeon scoffs, standing and brushing down her skirt. “So that’s what you call this?”

Jimin closes his eyes for a beat, the muscle in his jaw ticking. “I’m tired, too, you know. You could at least try,” he hisses quietly, trying not to let Eunha hear.

“I do try,” Sooyeon says, voice rising again. “Every day, I work, I come home-“

“You come home and you shut down,” Jimin interrupts, his hands braced on his hips. “You think working is the same as being here, but it’s not. Your daughter wants to be with you for five minutes, surely you can spare that.”

Eunha’s lip trembles. Tokki slips from her hands onto the couch cushion. “Stop…”

Jimin’s chest tightens; they can’t do this in front of her. “Go brush your teeth, bug. Mommy’ll tuck you in soon.” When she hesitates, looking between them, he adds, “Please, Eunha-yah.”

She nods and shuffles off the couch, padding softly to the bathroom with her shoulders slouched.

The silence that follows the creak of the door as it closes over is heavier than any shouting. 

“She’s been crying all day, needing you, wanting the comfort of her mother,” Jimin says, quiet in resignation. “Will you just read her a story and pretend you aren’t tired for just a moment?”

“Fine,” Sooyeon sighs, tucking her hair behind her ears and slipping through the crack in the bathroom. Jimin hears her speaking softly to Eunha before she returns with Eunha’s arms tightly wrapped around her neck, her face buried into her shoulder, and carries her into her bedroom.

He doesn’t wait for Sooyeon to come back out. He picks up the half-full laundry basket in the hallway and heads out the apartment door before thinking about it. It’s not about where he’s going; he just needs to get away - away from the four walls that feel like they’re closing in on him, routine stiffling his sanity, raised voices pressing down on his chest.

The laundry room isn’t the most freeing space, but the sense of calm Jimin gets as he pushes open the door and sees the wide expanse of Jeongguk’s back at the dryer is something he easily, and perhaps guiltily, clings onto.

“Jimin-ssi,” Jeongguk says as he turns around, his soft smile turning into a small frown as Jimin stays standing in the doorway, his shoulders slouched. “You okay?”

Jimin lets out a quiet, bitter laugh. “No,” he admits, setting the basket down on the bench with a heavy thud. “Not really.”

Jeongguk straightens, concern flickering across his face. “You wanna talk about it?”

Jimin hesitates, then nods once.

“Not here,” Jeongguk says after a moment. “Come on; I want to show you something.” 

The taller cocks his head to the side, to the service door that Jimin isn’t sure he has ever noticed before. Jeongguk nudges his shoulder against the metal, and the sharp, jarring scrape of the stiff door makes Jimin wince. Jeongguk smiles sheepishly, beckoning Jimin to follow him into the darkness and up a set of metal stairs until he pushes open another stiff door and holds it open.

The air outside is cool, crisp and refreshing as they step out onto the rooftop. It’s mostly quiet except for the low hum of the city below and an aircraft passing overhead, and dark, too, only illuminated by the streetlights and other buildings around them. Jeongguk walks ahead, glancing back to make sure Jimin is following.

When they reach the edge, Jeongguk leans on the wall with his elbows, the city stretching out below them - car headlights like comets shooting by, people like little bugs walking along the path, the city alive and the world spinning despite Jimin’s world feeling like it’s falling apart. Jeongguk hops onto the wall, swinging his legs over the edge and pats the space beside him.

Jimin joins him reluctantly, their knees almost touching. “Didn’t think you were the type to break rules, Jeongguk-ssi.”

Jeongguk grins. “Only the boring ones,” he replies. “No one ever comes up here. I found it one night when I couldn’t sleep. Figured you needed somewhere quiet.”

Jimin smiles softly and huffs out a gentle laugh, but it fades quickly as his gaze turns back to the horizon. “Eunha-yah had nightmares last night. She gets them a lot, but not usually this bad. She was awake most of the night.”

Jeongguk doesn’t interrupt; he just listens, his gaze fixed on the side of Jimin’s face.

“I can usually get her to go back to sleep, but this time she wanted Sooyeon-ah,” he continues quietly. “But she left for work, and I was left to deal with the tears as her mother left her behind.”

Jimin takes a breath, twiddling his thumbs in his lap.

“I shouldn’t be mad,” he breathes. “She works hard, I know she does. But she’s not really here anymore. Not with Eunha, not with me. I don’t even know what we’re doing half of the time.”

There’s a long silence, broken only by the hum of traffic below. It stretches, but isn’t awkward. Jeongguk lets him sit with the quiet - listening, understanding, paying attention.

“You deserve more than that,” Jeongguk says eventually, voice soft but steady.

Jimin lets out a short, humourless laugh, turning his head. “You don’t even know me that well.”

Jeongguk tilts his head, studying him. “I know enough. I know how much you do for Eunha-yah, for both of them. You take care of everyone, Jimin-ssi. Who takes care of you?”

Jimin blinks, the words catching him off guard. “I-I-“

“You deserve someone who notices when you’re tired,” Jeongguk continues. “Someone who listens when you talk. Someone who looks at you and thinks you’re worth the world. All the time, not just at your best, but when you’re falling apart too. Someone who sees you, as Jimin, not as who you are trying to be for everybody else.” 

Jimin swallows hard, his throat tight, eyes stinging as they slowly well with tears. He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to tell him he’s not sure he really is worth the world, doesn’t know how to tell him he’s not sure he’s allowed it.

Jeongguk’s voice drops an octave lower. “You deserve to be wanted, Jimin-ssi. Not just needed.”

Jimin turns his head, eyes finding Jeongguk’s. There’s so much honesty in them that it makes him choke a little. They’re close - close enough that Jimin can see his own reflection in Jeongguk’s pupils, framed by the twinkling lights of the city. Neither of them moves.

Jeongguk’s hand twitches. Jimin’s gaze drops, just briefly, to his mouth.

It’s instinct, unthinking, like a force inside his chest he can’t control - he leans in.

Jeongguk’s gaze flicks between Jimin’s lips and eyes like he can’t decide which he wants to look at more, leaning in helplessly, Jimin’s gravity tugging him closer like he’s been waiting for this moment.

They’re a heartbeat away, a whisper from crossing the line, to giving in to whatever magnetic pull thrums between them.

Jimin blinks and pulls back sharply, breath catching in his throat. “We can’t-“

The words cut through the quiet, jagged and raw. He can almost feel the breath leave Jeongguk’s lungs.

Jeongguk’s jaw tightens, and he looks away, pressing his lips together, his throat bobbing heavily like he’s desperately forcing something back down - a word, a want, a confession; Jimin isn’t sure. He nods once, jaw set, the restraint visible in every line of his body.

Neither of them says anything for a while - the city hums below, steady and indifferent, unaware of the tension fizzling between them.

Jimin’s throat burns, his lips tingle, his eyes sting, his chest burns with the breath he doesn’t realise he’s holding.

He exhales shakily, his eyes falling back onto the skyline. “I should go check on Eunha-yah.”

Jeongguk doesn’t look at him. “Okay,” he says, quiet but firm, his voice harder than Jimin has ever heard it before.

Jimin hesitates before he swings his legs back over the ledge, stepping back to the door. “Goodnight, Jeongguk-ssi.”

Jeongguk finally turns, a small downturned smile on his lips. “Goodnight, Jimin-ssi. Get some rest.”

Back in the stairwell, Jimin presses a hand to his chest as if he could calm the heartbeat that’s racing for someone it really, really, really shouldn’t be.

—————————✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧—————————

Eunha is halfway through her homework when the doorbell rings.

Jimin push his chair back and twists the lock on the door before pulling it open. Of course, it’s Jeongguk, wearing a loose grey t-shirt and matching sweatpants, his hair falling curly around his face.

“Jimin-ssi, hi,” Jeongguk says with a smile as the door widens. “I like your apron.”

Jimin blinks, then glances down and immediately feels his ears burn. The apron is pale pink, patterned with tiny yellow chicks - a gift from Eunha for his birthday a while ago - and in the corner, in Eunha’s shaky handwriting, is Daddy’s Kitchen embroidered in red thread.

“Oh-uh,” Jimin fumbles, smoothing down the fabric like it might make it any less embarrassing. “Eunha-yah made it for me.” 

Jeongguk’s grin widens, eyes glinting with amusement. “Of course she did. Suits you.”

“It does not,” Jimin scoffs lightly, but a hint of a smile tugs at his lips. “Did you need something?”

“Yes, actually,” he replies quickly. “I need two taste testers for some cookies I’m about to make. Thought I might as well employ the help of two of the sweetest people I know.”

Jimin resists rolling his eyes, and before he can answer, a small voice calls from the dining table. “Cookies?”

Eunha’s chair screeches as she hops up and bounds over, her eyes going wide as she looks up to see Jeongguk standing at their door. “Aji! You’re making cookies?” Jeongguk nods with a smile. “Can we help, Daddy? Please, please, please?”

Jimin looks between her and Jeongguk, torn between exhausation and fondness, but there’s no real fight in him. He was never going to say no. “You’re supposed to be doing your homework, bug.”

“I’ll do it later,” Eunha promises instantly, clinging to Jimin’s arm. “I’ll only have one, or two, or-or three cookies and then I will do my homework.”

Jimin exhales a soft laugh, his fingers carding through her hair. “Alright,” he says finally. “But only because you know I can’t resist those eyes.”

“Hers or mine?” Jeongguk quips back, tilting his head slightly. Jimin doesn’t hold back on rolling his eyes this time, terribly endeared even though he tells himself he’s not. “Does Tokki like cookies, too, Little Star?” Jeongguk asks as Eunha bounces up and down on the balls of her feet.

“He loves them! They’re his favourite!” she squeals excitedly. “Can I bring Tokki, too, Daddy?”

“Yes, go on,” Jimin nudges, grabbing his phone and keys. Eunha dashes to her bedroom and back so quickly she’s barely a flash of dark hair before she’s latching on to Jeongguk’s side and shuffling towards his apartment, Tokki dangling in her other hand.

“Bring her stool,” Jeongguk says over his shoulder. “I don’t have one for her yet.”

The word yet snags in Jimin’s mind, catching him off guard for more than one reason - Jeongguk is serious about letting Eunha help, that he actually wants her to be involved in the process, that he remembered she’d need her stool at all, and the quiet, almost careless yet like he’s already planning a future when Eunha will be here often enough to need one of her own.

“Right,” Jimin says, blinking out of his daze. “Of course.”

“Do you want to add the chocolate chips, Eunha-yah?” Jeongguk asks, turning his attention back to the little girl swinging their hands together.

Her eyes light up, skipping to Jeongguk’s door. “Yes, yes, can I really, Aji?”

“Of course you can, Little Star,” Jeongguk replies, holding open the door. “That’s the most important part. You, on the other hand,” he continues, turning to Jimin with a grin. “Can be the junior sous chef and help with scooping. You look too good in that apron not to be put to work.”

Jimin bites back a teasing remark as he sets down Eunha’s stool by the counter. He straightens up, ready to ask what needs doing, when he notices.

The ingredients have already been weighed out and mixed together in a bowl, the oven already preheated, the baking sheet already lined with parchment paper, counters already cleaned, without a speck of flour remaining. He quietly realises that Jeongguk didn’t really need their help at all. He just wanted them there, wanted an excuse to fill his apartment with the sound of Eunha’s giggles, the sound of soft, gentle domesticity.

Jimin looks at Jeongguk, who is leaning against the counter, watching as Eunha playfully mixes the chocolate chips through the mixture with a grin that makes Jimin’s heart skip, and he finds that he doesn’t even mind that he might have to fight Eunha to get her to do her homework later when they could’ve been doing it now. He’d much rather be here, in this warmth that isn’t truly his, but could be.

He’d much rather be watching Jeongguk like this, with his sleeves pushed up to his elbows and his hair falling in his eyes, laughing softly whenever Eunha sneaks a few chocolate chips into her mouth instead of the bowl. There’s something achingly natural about it, something that seems so, so easy that Jimin doesn’t know what it is that is making it feel so hard at the same time.

Jimin swallows, his throat tightening around something he can’t name. Maybe guilt. Maybe longing. Probably both.

“Daddy, look! I mixed it!” Eunha announces proudly. “Hoku, I mixed it! Do you want a cookie, kitty?”

Jimin laughs softly, shaking himself out of his thoughts and peers over Eunha’s shoulder into the bowl - she really has done a good job. “Well done, bug. These look great. Are you gonna help me scoop them out?”

Eunha nods enthusiastically, smiling so wide her eyes have disappeared. “Yes! I’ll do the big ones and you do the little ones.”

“That’s not usually how it works,” Jimin laughs, handing her the spoon Jeongguk passed to him. “But I’ll allow it just this once.”

“Only this once,” Jeongguk echoes, his tone mock-serious as he slides the baking tray closer, tickling Eunha’s side until she squeals. “We have high standards to maintain here, Little Star.”

Eunha can’t stop giggling as she clumsily scoops oversized blobs of cookie dough onto the parchment paper, her laughter brighter and unrestrained. Jeongguk leans over her shoulder to fix one, gently brushing a streak of chocolate off her cheek with his thumb, and Jimin feels something twist warmly in his chest - that same unbearable ease, that fleeting, dangerous, addictive thought of this could be ours.

When the last of the dough has been separated and the trays have slid into place in the oven, Jeongguk brings a tray of hot chocolate over to the couch where Jimin is sitting next to Eunha with Hoku in her lap, even including a tiny cup just for Eunha.

“Can we watch a movie, Aji?” Eunha asks, wiggling her toes, Tokki clutched to her chest, whilst the other hand softly pets Hoku’s fur.

“Just the one, bug. We have to get home and eat dinner in a bit,” Jimin reasons.

Jeongguk settles down on Eunha’s other side, his arm stretched out on the cushion behind her head, not quite around Jimin, but close enough that Jimin can feel the warmth radiating from his skin. “How about Howl’s Moving Castle?”

Halfway through the movie, Eunha’s head starts to droop against Jeongguk’s side, her breathing evening out, and Jimin reaches to smooth her hair. Jeongguk’s hand moves at the same time, their fingers brushing, just a fleeting touch, but enough to make them both still.

Their eyes meet over her dozing head, the flicker of the TV casting shadows across Jeongguk’s face, softening his features, the usual hard line of his jaw, the sharpness of his eyebrows, gilding them in gold.

Jeongguk smiles, small, fond and turns his gaze back to the film.

Jimin does the same, but it takes much longer for him to actually see anything on the screen again.

When the credits roll, and the cookies have been out cooling, Eunha is fast asleep with her head in Jeongguk’s lap, Hoku purring asleep beside her, Tokki nestled between them. 

Jimin stretches, his joints cracking softly as he stands. “We should get going. Dinner, bath time, bed time. I don’t really wanna wake her, though.”

Jeongguk nods, careful not to wake Eunha as he brushes a strand of her hair from her forehead. “Let me pack you some cookies before you go. She might never forgive us if she doesn’t get to eat one after making them.”

“You’re right,” Jimin chuckles. “You’ll hear her screaming through the walls.”

Jimin picks Eunha up from Jeongguk’s lap, wrapping her legs around his waist as she rests her head on his shoulder, as Jeongguk holds the door open and helps them out, a small Tupperware of still-warm cookies under his arm. “For Little Star. And maybe one or two for her daddy.”

Jimin huffs out a laugh, unlocking their apartment and pushing it open with his foot before taking the container from Jeongguk’s hands, their fingers brushing again. “Thanks, Jeongguk-ssi.”

“You’re welcome any time, Jimin-ssi, you know that,” Jeongguk replies earnestly, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Let me know what you think of them, okay?”

“I’m sure Eunha-yah will tell you herself,” Jimin says softly, resting his cheek on Eunha’s head.

Jeongguk smiles faintly at that, the corners of his mouth twitching like he wants to say something else but knows better. “Goodnight, Jimin-ssi.”

“Goodnight.”

Jimin nudges the door closed with his heel. The warmth from Jeongguk’s apartment clings to him - vanilla and sugar, mixed with green tea and the soft scent of Jeongguk’s detergent - and the quiet echoes of unadulterated laughter ring in his ears. It fades all too quickly in the quiet of his home.

He sighs through his nose, hoisting Eunha a little higher in his arms. “You want any dinner, Eunha-yah? Or, do you want to go straight to bed?”

She mumbles something into his neck, half asleep and tightens her hold around his neck.

“I know, bug,” Jimin whispers, pressing a kiss to her temple as he carries her to her room, laying her down on her little bed and tucking Tokki in beside her. “You had fun today, huh?”

She doesn’t answer, already drifting asleep again, her breathing soft and face relaxed and comfortable. He presses another kiss to her forehead before switching on her nightlight and slipping out of the room, shutting the door softly behind him.

It’s as he’s padding back down the hall to the kitchen, his stomach grumbling a little, that Sooyeon appears out from their bedroom, her hair tied back, expression unreadable.

“You’re back late,” she says firmly. It’s not a question.

“Yeah,” Jimin replies, pulling open the fridge. “We were next door. Jeongguk-ssi invited us over to bake cookies.”

Her gaze flicks towards the Tupperware on the counter. “I can see that.”

There’s a sharpness to her voice that unnerves him, his shoulders tensing. “She had a good time. Wore herself out. She’s been smiling all day.”

“I’m sure she has,” Sooyeon says, crossing the room to settle on the couch, her arms crossed over her chest. “But you forgot to make dinner.”

Jimin shrugs, pulling some leftovers from the shelf. “We can heat something up. I’ll make her a big breakfast in the morning.”

Her silence stretches, thin and brittle. She continues to stare, her face stoic, but Jimin’s been here before - he knows what her silences mean.

He finally looks at her. “What?”

“Nothing,” she says too quickly. “She just hasn’t eaten all evening.”

“She fell asleep on the couch, Yeonie. I wasn’t going to force food down her throat,” he replies.

“That’s not the point,” she argues. “You can’t just let her skip meals because it’s convenient for you.”

Jimin’s jaw tightens. “Convenient? You think I do this stuff because it’s convenient?"

“I think you act like the fun parent,” Sooyeon continues. “The one who gets to bake cookies and stay up late.”

“I’m the one who takes her to school, who picks her up from school, who does her homework with her, who feeds her, who bathes her. I’m the parent, not just the fun one.”

“I’m the one trying to keep the household running, to keep things together!” Sooyeon fires back.

“That’s rich,” Jimin mutters under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Keeping things together?” he says, meeting her gaze. “You haven’t been here to keep anything together. You barely talk to her. She cries for you, and you look the other way.”

Her mouth opens and closes again, her eyebrows knitting together. “That’s not fair.”

“It’s not fair to her,” Jimin shoots back. “She’s five, Yeonie. And she’s already figured out she only gets you when it’s convenient for you.”

Sooyeon flinches. “You think you’re perfect? You think that just because you’re here more, that you’re a saint?”

Jimin’s heart skips a beat, his voice dropping low. “At least I’m here.”

“You always twist it like that. Like I’m the bad guy because I work late.”

“I twist it?” Jimin asks in disbelief, his eyes widening. “You’re the one who started this over dinner she didn’t even ask for!”

“Because it’s about you,” she snaps. “It’s always about you and how you think things should be done. Never about me. Never about us.”

Jimin stares at her for a moment, the air tight between them like it might splinter open and slice right through him.

“When was the last time you did anything with her? Anything fun? Anything that she wanted to do?” he asks quietly, the sudden calm startling even him.

Sooyeon stares back, her lips parted in surprise. “Oh, last week. Uh- we watched Ponyo together.”

“And me?” he asks, this time a little quieter, saddened. “When was the last time we did anything, Yeonie? You say it’s never about us. When was the last time we went out? Talked? The last time we kissed?”

The air stills. The sound of the city outside fills the silence between them, somehow heavier, like it’s pressing against the glass, quietly reminding them there’s more to life than the tension in these walls.

“The last time we had sex? The last time we looked at each other like we used to?”

Sooyeon’s eyes flicker away before she squares her shoulders. “Fine,” she says quietly. “Let’s fix that.”

Jimin blinks. “What?”

“You said we haven’t had sex in a while. So let’s-“ she gestures to the hallway, a touch of irritation creeping up in her tone. “We can fix that.”

Jimin’s chest tightens, not from want but from the hollowness of it - as if being so vulnerable and intimate is just some kind of chore to her, something to tick off the marriage checklist, like an obligation, not something she actually wants because it feels good.

“That’s not the point,” Jimin replies, soft with hurt, not tenderness.

Her eyebrows furrow. “Then what is the point, Jimin-ah? Did you just bring it up so we could fight about it?” she argues. “You want me to apologise for being tired? For working? For not-“

“I want you to want to be here,” he cuts in, voice cracking slightly. “If not for me, for Eunha-yah.“

“You always make me out of the villain,” Sooyeon says, crossing her arms over her chest.

Jimin exhales through his nose, exhausted, running his hand through his hair. “You make it too easy.”

Then, he turns and walks down the hall, grabbing the half-full washing basket and slipping out of the apartment before Sooyeon can say anything else.

His feet move without conscious thought, taking the stairs easily and pushing into the laundry room like it’s second nature. The door swings open with the force of his hand against the door, his frustration causing it to bang loudly against the wall.

Jeongguk spins at the noise, startled, stuffing a load of washing into the dryer. His brows furrow when he sees Jimin, drenched in tension, shoulders tight, breathing hard like he might’ve run down the stairs, not walked.

Jimin swallows hard, his chest tight. He can hardly believe Jeongguk is even here, how he seems to be exactly where Jimin needs him to be, without him saying a word, without Jimin even knowing he needed it. He came here to vent, maybe to throw his sheets at the wall, watch the suds bubble around in the washer in the hopes that he might calm down. And yet, Jeongguk is already here - calm, steady, waiting. It’s like some intrinsic pull that drags them together, one that Jimin can hardly name, let alone understand.

“Jimin-ssi?” Jeongguk says softly. “What’s wrong?”

Jimin drops the basket onto the bench, dragging his hand through his hair in an attempt to steady himself, but it’s useless. His pulse is erratic, and he starts pacing, his slippers shuffling along the tile. “I fought with Sooyeon-ah. She just… she doesn’t get it. It’s like we’re living two completely separate lives, like she’s somewhere else. And when I finally try to talk about it, it turns into this-“

He gestures vaguely to the ceiling, maybe to the world, to the universe, his voice breaking. “I asked her when was the last time we did anything together. When was the last time we talked or went out or kissed, or had sex, and she couldn’t answer me.”

Jeongguk doesn’t interrupt. He leans against the dryer, eyes never leaving Jimin’s face, patient and steady.

“Then… then she suggested we should fuck there and then, like she was trying to tick something off her list, do her duty because I brought it up, not because it used to feel good.” Jimin shakes his head, staring at the floor. “I didn’t even want that. I just wanted her to see it hasn’t been about us in a long time, and I wanted her to want something again, me, Eunha-yah, the family. Anything.” He exhales heavily, his lungs burning. “God, listen to me. You didn’t ask for any of this.”

“I don’t mind,” Jeongguk says quietly. “I told you before. You don’t have to carry anything alone, Jimin-ssi.”

Something flickers in Jimin’s eyes, something tired and desperate. “You shouldn’t have to listen to me complaining about my wife.”

“I don’t see it as complaining,” Jeongguk replies low and carefully. “I see it as you’re allowing yourself to feel what you’ve been keeping inside for so long.”

Jimin swallows hard. “You shouldn’t have to listen to me complaining about my sex life, though. I think that is above the neighbour-paygrade.”

“I’ll listen to you talk about anything if it makes you feel better. Sex life or otherwise.”

“Why?” Jimin starts, stopping in his tracks, turning to Jeongguk. “Why are you so nice to me?”

“Because you deserve it,” Jeongguk replies simply, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

“Then why do I feel like I don’t?” Jimin’s voice cracks a little, quiet and resigned, his gaze lowers to the floor.

“Maybe because you’re with someone who doesn’t really see you,” Jeongguk says. His voice has changed, lower - more certain. “You deserve someone who looks at you and sees how much you’re worth, who wants to make you know how much you’re worth. Who wants to see you happy, not just functional. Who wants you, all of you. Who wants to touch you because they can’t bear the thought of not.”

Jimin looks up, startled, meeting Jeongguk’s gaze. There’s something fierce in it now, something that makes his pulse stutter. He steps closer.

“Jeongguk-ssi…” Jimin starts, but Jeongguk doesn’t let him.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” Jeongguk admits, the words spilling out, quiet but electric. “About your smile, about your laugh. Your kindness, how you treat your daughter, the way you care for her. The way you fill a room with so much joy that you don’t even realise it came from you.”

Jimin swallows hard; his pulse roars in his ears. “You shouldn’t-“

“Shouldn’t want you? Jeongguk interrupts, voice trembling, barely above a whisper. He steps closer again. “I can’t not. I can’t turn it off. I think about you all the time. I think about what it would feel like to touch you, to be the one who gets to make you feel wanted again. To see you come apart again and again, not because I have to, but because I want to." 

The words hit Jimin like a physical touch. His jaw tenses, his eyes squeeze shut, lungs burning as he holds his breath like one exhale could shatter him to pieces. It’s too much; the honesty, the hunger, the gentleness beneath it all.

“You can’t just-“ he starts, but it comes out weaker than he means it to, his resolve fracturing before his eyes.

“Tell me to stop,” Jeongguk says, stepping forward. They’re barely inches apart. “Tell me to stop and I will.”

But Jimin can’t. He can’t because it would be a lie. Because his body is betraying him, leaning in, trembling and desperate.

Jeongguk’s hand wastes no time before it cups Jimin’s jaw.

And then they’re kissing.

It’s clumsy at first - too much need in one tiny moment - but it deepens quickly, all the heat, all the aching, all the hopeless longing pours out like molten lava between them. Jimin fists Jeongguk’s shirt, dragging him close, their teeth clashing for a second before Jeongguk dives back in, growling low in his throat.

Jimin’s knees hit the back of the washing machine, but he doesn’t care one bit. The world around him shrinks to the feeling of Jeongguk’s lips on his, the way Jeongguk’s tongue licks into his mouth with possession, claiming him over and over without taking a breath. His hand slides beneath Jimin’s shirt, up to his ribs, fingers splayed out over the tattoo Jeongguk doesn’t yet know is there, his fingers cold against Jimin’s burning skin.

He’s never been kissed like this, never been ravished, never been held in place by strong hands that touch him and hold him like he’s worth everything in the world and more, possessive but tender, fingertips grazing over the skin of his neck and the edges of his tattoo, goosebumps rising in their wake. Jimin clings to Jeongguk’s shirt like he fears that if he were to let go, he’d fall into the abyss, never to return. Every inch of them is touching, pressing so wholly against each other that Jimin doesn’t know where he ends and Jeongguk begins.

Jimin makes a noise in the back of his throat when Jeongguk shifts to slip his thigh between Jimin’s legs, his hand sliding to Jimin’s waist and pulling him impossibly closer. He can feel the rapid beating of Jeongguk’s heartbeat against his chest, the beat in sync with Jimin’s own pulse, spiked and finely tuned to this exact moment. The moment where Jimin can’t think of anything but this; anything but the feeling of Jeongguk against him, finally.

He gasps against Jeongguk’s lips, and Jeongguk pulls back just enough to look at him, his eyes swimming with lust and softened with affection. They’re both breathing hard, foreheads pressed together, knowing that everything has just changed.

“This-“ Jimin starts, his voice raw. “We can’t-“

Jeongguk’s thumb brushes his bottom lip, swollen and trembling. He kisses him again, softer this time, just a press of their lips before he leans back again.

“I know you can’t,” he whispers.

You can’t, not we can’t.

“But I couldn’t not.”

For a second, neither of them moves. The air hums with what just happened - with what can’t be undone. Then Jimin swallows and licks his lips, tasting Jeongguk on his tongue, sweet and addictive, before he slowly slips out of Jeongguk’s hold, suddenly cold and already missing the feeling of Jeongguk’s hands on him. Jeongguk doesn’t follow. He stays where he is, facing where Jimin had just stood, his hands now at his sides like they don’t know what to do without Jimin’s body beneath them.

“This can’t happen again,” he murmurs despite his heart lurching from his chest. Jeongguk doesn’t reply.

He forces himself to pick up his basket, forces himself to take lead-heavy steps out of the laundry room and back up the stairs, his chest rising and falling, lips still tingling with the memory of Jeongguk’s. Behind him, the laundry hums on, keeping Jeongguk company in the silence Jimin left him in.

Jimin doesn’t look back, doesn’t stop walking.

Because he knows if he does, he won’t ever be able to leave at all.

The apartment is dim when he slips back inside; the only light spilling across the space is from the lamp in the hallway - Sooyeon must be asleep.

Sooyeon.

Jimin’s stomach lurches.

He toes his slippers off quietly, sets the basket down on the floor and pads barefoot over to the balcony, sliding the door open as quietly as he can without disturbing his family even more than he feels like he just did.

The night air is cold, but he barely feels it over the heat of his shame. He sinks onto the cold, hard floor, the concrete offering him some stability that he desperately craves. His shirt is wrinkled from Jeongguk’s hands, his lips swollen and wet with spit - Jimin’s or Jeongguk’s, he’s not sure.

He presses his palms to his eyes until he sees stars, like he could block out the real world and pretend he didn’t just invalidate the cardinal rule of marriage.

What have you done?

The words echo sharply across his chest, slashing him open. Sickness and guilt bubble away in his stomach, mixed uncomfortably with the embers of his desire, still hot and alight from Jeongguk’s touch lingering on his skin.

Somewhere inside him, a small, tender part that is nearly swallowed whole by his guilt whispers that it felt good to be wanted, to be seen. That maybe what he’s done is wrong, but for a few breathless, scorching moments, it didn’t feel like it.

Jimin exhales a breath, long and slow, his chest aching, watching it curl up into the cool evening sky; the guilt doesn’t go with it. It settles beside the warmth Jeongguk left behind. Both too heavy to carry, both too real to ignore.

He stays there until his bones go numb, until the pain from the cold fights against the pain of the guilt gnawing through Jimin’s chest. He doesn’t go inside. He can’t stomach the thought of climbing into bed next to his wife with the warmth of Jeongguk’s touch on his skin.

He doesn’t go inside until he’s so cold he feels nothing.