Jimin-hyung,

Didn't want to disturb you. I'll be out late, don't wait

up or worry about me. Thanks again for everything.

- Jungkook

Jimin frowned as he read the note again, eyes scanning each word carefully before he set it aside and reached for his coffee.  If he had, in fact, come in late, the older man might not have his brow creased with concern.  It was now eight o'clock in the morning, though, and Jungkook had yet to return to the apartment.

What almost bothered him more was what the note said, though.  Had the kid really been so oblivious to think his roommate had been sleeping? Jimin could still recall hearing the sink in the bathroom and the door closing quietly the night before.  Perhaps he should have been more forward.  He had thought leaving the door open was enough indication that he was there – that a part of him very much wanted to talk.  Maybe such subtle signs were only useful with family, though.  Living with a stranger really was a foreign concept for Jimin, and he sighed as he considered how much he had yet to learn.

The minute hand on the clock continued to tick along, and Jimin's time was growing short.  He was just rinsing his mug in the sink when the door creaked, sending his head snapping toward the sound.  A sigh of relief escaped his lips as Jungkook pressed inside the apartment, eyes as heavy as the door that involuntarily slammed shut behind him. The younger of the two winced at the noise and slowly blinked as he brought his eyes up to meet the other.  “Morning,” he managed in a gravelly tone, kicking his shoes of and onto the rack at the door.

Jimin's eyebrows quirked as he took in the dishevelled appearance of his younger roommate.  His hair was askew, dark eyeliner diffused around his eyes, and his... interesting choice of a mesh shirt wasn't on quite right.  “Good morning – or uh, end of a good night?” he enquired, swallowing nervously at his own curiosity.  There was something intriguing about the kid as he slid the jacket off his shoulders and hung it in the closet.  He could see the dark marks beneath the fabric, and the firm muscles over which they wound and whirled.  It wasn't until the man turned to look back that he finally tore his eyes away, feigning interest in getting his mug into the dishwasher.

“Something like that,” Jungkook mumbled, pushing a hand back through his hair.  He'd slept, although not very much, and he could still feel the adrenaline coursing through his body from the events of the night before.  “You uh... you're headed to work, huh?”  It wasn't a stretch of a conclusion to draw, given the button-up dress shirt and slacks Jimin was wearing.  “What's work for you, anyway?” he asked, leaning against the wall for much needed support.

Jimin's lips turned upward slightly at the question – he felt a certain pleasure at having piqued some sort of curiosity from his roommate. It had been too long since he'd had a chance to make new friends. “Yeah, I work at a bank, actually,” he shrugged, moving toward the door and pulling his shoes from the rack.  “It's not exactly the dream, but it's pretty stable,” he admitted.  It had been his father's career, and the job had been an easy one to take when Yoona was diagnosed.  It was a way to provide for his wife, and a career that offered hours and holidays that lent themselves nicely to a couple dealing with terminal illness.  Sometimes, though, Jimin wondered if stability had been the right choice in those last months.

Across the room, Jungkook's eyes had narrowed, his gaze steady on the older man pulling on his shoes.  It was a bad habit, but his eyes tended to linger longer than they should have, his face affecting a serious expression that was often misunderstood.  “Huh – I guess it would be,” he agreed, but his mind was busy trying to read the subtext beneath the simplistic explanation.  It didn't take a genius to see that Jimin wasn't saying everything outright.  

“Yup,” came Jimin's brief reply as he stood and reached for the jacket he'd hung on the coat rack earlier in the morning.  “Anyway, I've gotta be off,” he nodded toward Jungkook before opening the door.  He paused as he looked at the handle, and pulled the set of keys from the other side.  “Hey kid,” he turned to the other, tossing the keys in his direction.  Jungkook's reflexes were surprisingly fast given his current state, and the older man smirked with amusement. “Get some sleep.  And for the record?  Late ends at five – you know, so your roommate-hyung doesn't worry next time,” he shook his head with a quiet laugh.

Jungkook stared after Jimin, slightly dumbfounded as the door closed behind chestnut-haired man.  He wasn't entirely sure what had just happened, but he couldn't help but think the words had been almost flirtatious in nature.  It took him a few minutes to shake off the surprise, and he groaned in pushing himself up from the wall.  If nothing else, his roommate had been right about one thing: he needed more sleep if he wanted to make it through the day.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.  Relevé in first position, retiré, open arms to fourth.... Jimin's mind worked through each position with each count, his body responding too slowly for his liking as he repeated the dance.  As he bounded forward from his elegantly lengthened pose, the muscles in his body strained to remember how they had once moved so freely.  Ligaments and tendons groaned as he leaped and spun into a well balanced pirouette, joints groaned as he forced his himself into an arabesque, leg yearning for the sky.  His feet ached as they carried him across the floor to the beat of the song, thundering against the wood boards until he reached out for the barre, body slumping heavily against it. “Damnit” he cursed, slamming his hand against the barre as he shook his head.

Sweat dripped down from his hair, spotting his neck and collarbones above the hem of his tank top.  The black material clung to his body, hugging the spots where he'd gone soft in the three years of relative neglect to his fitness routine.  Still, beneath that layer the muscles were seizing and supporting, aching to be used and to propel him through choreography of every genre.  Jimin had stopped believing he was capable of being among the best long before, though.  His efforts now were another part of his therapy, although some part of him buried beneath the surface still found the utmost joy and release from his time in the studio.

Heaving a sigh, Jimin shuffled to the sound system, cutting off the recorded pianist in the midst of the tune as he shuffled through his iPod. The clock thrummed too loudly in the silence that filled the room, tik tok, tik tok, tik tok.  Finally a smirk twitched at the corner of Jimin's lips, and his thumb pressed play.  Bass filled the room, and he bounced on the balls of his feet as he allowed the rhythm to flow through his ears and into his body, filling every part of his body with it's vibrations.  He'd had enough of the harsh restrictions of ballet today, his body had suffered plenty from the confines of the positions and the precise placements of his limbs.  As the beat dropped, so did his shoulders, and his soul took over.

By the time Jungkook arrived for practice, Hoseok and Taehyung were already waiting outside the studio.  “Nice, you beat Namjoon and Jin today,” Tae mused as his pulled his old friend into a hug.  The guitar case bounced against their legs until they released one another, and the younger man stilled the end of it in his hand.

“Well, do we need to wait for them?” Jungkook asked, eyeing the door to the practice studio.  He was eager to pull out his instrument after the day he'd had.  Two interviews had proved fruitless, and at the end of it all he was going to have to return to that apartment once again without a job. As much as they fancied themselves musicians, their gigs barely paid enough to rent this studio they used, let alone to provide an income. He wasn't about to let himself become anymore of a charity case than he already was, but there wasn't much more he could do about that until the next day.  For the time being, his fingers felt the itch to bleed his frustrations into his music.

For a moment, the couple before him paused and looked at one another, communicating silently as they so often did.  It was an eerie habit he'd noticed between them, especially given how outspoken they both usually were.  Eventually, though, Tae shrugged and shook his head slightly while Hoseok seemed to speak for both of them.  “