Replay.

The symphony of their tale came to an end.

“You know, Jimin,” Jin chose his words with great care; “Jungkook may not be very expressive.”

Park Jimin had a long, agonizing hour to consider and reconsider his absurd decision of agreeing to a “walk” with the person he wasn’t that keen on being alone with – Jeon Jungkook.

Against reasonable judgement, he had left the luxury of snuggling by the heater to follow the younger aimlessly for the past hour in absolute silence. Instead of it being relaxing – which most leisurely walks were supposed to be – this one only consisted of a tense atmosphere that was lethally chocking.

Not to mention winter was just right around the corner waiting for its turn of a grand entrance and possibly, sneering at the silly duo who chose to be wandering at such inappropriate timing instead of seeking shelter from the cold like everyone else.  

And every bit of Jimin was battling the temptation of leaving his companion and fleeing.

They trudged - footsteps strenuous and in cringe worthy silence - down the empty streets of Seoul. Jimin, as stealthily as possible, stole occasional peeps at the taller male beside him who vaguely shortened his usual strides to match those of Jimin’s, so that they walked at relatively identical pace.

Jimin wondered if Jungkook was equally unsettled like he was, but it was nearly impossible to tell with both their faces obscured by masks to avoid being recognised. He tried very, very hard to squint and make out the expression the younger had on, but as far as Jimin knew, he seemed to be at ease with an unruffled gaze staring ahead.

“He doesn’t voice his feelings out loud most of the times.”

It did, somewhat, irked Jimin to think that he was always the one facing turmoil when it came to Jungkook, while the latter was unmoved by anything (including blood-curdling horror movies which he loathed).

He came to the conclusion that Jungkook was either a machine, or just exceptionally skilled in controlling his emotions. But unbeknownst to Jimin (who was rather clueless and dense at times) the maknae was neither.

“But if you stopped trying to listen, and used your heart to feel it instead.”

If he had better observation skills, it would have been an obvious fact that Jeon Jungkook’s palms were sweating buckets and tightened into balled fists, as he mentally reminded himself to act natural and not march.

A sudden malicious gust of wind sent a chill down Jimin’s spine that rendered him shivering uncontrollably. Shoving his frozen hands a little deeper into the pockets of his coat for scarce heat, he desperately hoped that Jungkook would not notice the slight clattering of his teeth. But of course, being the golden maknae, he was too quick.

“You’d realise he does care for you. More than you can imagine.”

“Here.”

A low voice taut with somewhat uneasiness rippled through the air and broke the quietness hung between them as Jimin felt a soft, woolly scarf gently slid around his neck. Lowering his eyes to study the piece of garment for a second, there was no doubt it ( Jungkook’s Christmas present knitted by his mother ) was messily wrapped around him, with both ends loosely hung and almost touching his knees.

“Wear it,” the maknae coughed before tugging his mask a little higher, as if to conceal the nervousness threatening to spill and the tinge of red staining his cheeks. “It’d be bad if you got a cold.”

Jimin blinked several times as he contemplated the idea of rejecting his good intentions, before turning to look ahead once more upon realising the repercussions of falling ill.

“…Thanks.” He whispered, earning a brief nod from Jungkook.

The additional garment proved to be more than sufficient as Jimin’s shivering eventually came to a halt. It was warm. And the older could faintly smell Jungkook’s scent on it – the scent of a sunny day out and fields of lush grass that made him unconsciously nuzzled the fabric closer.

Jimin was unaware of the small, contented smile tugging on the corner of Jungkook’s lips as he surveyed the older, who was definitely too adorable for his own good. The oversized scarf wrapped around him made Jimin appear like a cute little snowman - with a slightly runny nose due to the cold - wobbling around.

No, Jungkook thought. Cute, was nowhere near describing his hyung; Jimin was perfect.

“This feels nice,” Jungkook hummed with closed eyes, “Peace and quiet, I mean.”

The streets were nearly empty. And now that Jimin was finally done trying not to freeze to death, he could properly appreciate a walk in the stillness of the night, under a curtain of infinite stars that gleamed, without millions of watching fans and cameras picking up his every move, the need to perform and be who he needed to be.

“Yeah,” A deep exhale expelled the tension Jimin had built up, “I suppose it’s not too bad.”

It was liberating.

When their legs were nearing the point of giving out after a long roam, they eventually found themselves at a familiar park just a little on the outskirts. It was still the same old pocket park Jimin remembered; with a stony pathway, little barren trees and a miniature playground (in which he always found pleasure playing at despite being way overage).

Confident of their aloneness, they carefully removed the heavy disguises and masks that were anything but comfortable to wear. And the subsequent breaths of fresh air entering their lungs were revitalizing, like a wilting plant finally obtaining water in the scotching desserts.

Jimin trotted over to a nearby bench and in a swift motion, planted himself comfortably on it, glad to finally be able to rest his poor, aching feet. He admired the younger that seemed to have endless stamina and was far too athletic to be an idol.

He noticed that Jungkook stood there awkwardly, shifting his weight from one leg to another and unsure whether it was appropriate for him to take a seat by his side without asking. The older – despite great efforts to maintain a straight face – couldn’t suppress a chukle upon looking at the troubled maknae.

Jimin gave the seat beside him a quick pat, motioning the younger to join him. The sight of Jungkook’s lit up face as he dashed forward like a little puppy was too adorable that Jimin had to lower his head in efforts to mask his growing smile.

They sat in silence, silhouetted in the moonlight. But unlike before, it wasn’t awkward but rather peaceful; as if they did not need each other to speak, as if the mere presence of being close to one another was more than enough.

Slowly turning his head to the right a precise 90°, Jungkook watched Jimin gaze at the sky above them. His shoulders were peeled back in a relax manner, eyes fixated at the glittering stars. As his dangled legs swung back and forth it made the old bench creak softly against the force. Jungkook watched him closely, carefully choosing the words and considering his options.

“I can see you staring.” Jimin said abruptly. It sent a sharp jolt to snap Jungkook awake, though his voice was soft and melodious without hints of hostility. The maknae did not remove his gaze despite the evident uneasiness Jimin felt.

If he was a moth then Jimin was his flame.

Jungkook was disappointed; he had wanted to observe him for a while longer, considering how this was the closest he got to the older in months, before voicing his thoughts. Jimin continued to rock, the rhythmic creaks of the bench a sorrowful metronome marking every passing second never to return.

“I’m really happy to be here with you.” Jungkook offered softly, earning a humourless laugh from the elder.

“It’s not like I had a choice right?” Jimin retorted and made no attempts in concealing his dissatisfaction, “They wouldn’t have let me say no anyways.”

The words Jimin spat were like a sharp knife that stabbed Jungkook in the heart, twisted and gauged around till it bled severely. It was impossible to ignore the pang of hurt he felt, but he masked it well enough to not let it show. After all, Jungkook thought that he deserved it; that he was in no place to complain.

“I’m…sorry about that.” Jungkook’s down casted eyes bore a hole on the ground.

Jimin straightened up into a slightly defensive stance, but did not turn to look at the dejected male by his side. “What do you want? And don’t tell me we came out here just for a “walk” because we both know that’s not true.”

“I-I…” The maknae swallowed hard. “I meant I…well-”

“You?” Jimin’s tone gentle, but slightly impatient.

“I..err-well I thought…that you-we-could…”

Letting loose a frustrated sigh, Jimin stood up to leave but the iron grip on his wrist left him with only one available option – sitting back down.

Jungkook pled in desperation, “I’m sorry! Just don’t go, please. I’m not really good with this-” He made a frantic gesture pointing back and forth between them, “-this whole being honest and trying to make things right situation.”

They paused for a moment, with Jungkook holding his breath praying that Jimin wouldn’t leave, and Jimin hating how Jungkook’s voice still had an effect on him. It’s been months and he thought he could do it; that he could walk away like he should have and shut the doors completely.

But he couldn’t.

“I was just going to get you something to drink from the convenience store.” Jimin pointed at the bright neon sign across the park. “You looked like you were hyperventilating.”

“I’m fine,” Jungkook heaved in relief before letting go of Jimin’s sore wrist, mumbling a quick apology. “Give