No one knows when the train is going to be fixed.

Jimin barely has time to settle back into his home, when the townspeople gather at his door to welcome him back with various gifts. They tell him that they aren’t ready to let him go yet, but are willing to take whatever time he can give. It moves to Jimin to tears, but he still graciously accepts everyone’s well-wishes through tears.

When Namjoon finally gathers the courage to visit and bring some carnations he had been taking care of, he immediately wishes he didn’t.

It’s well into the afternoon, but there are still people crowding at Jimin’s house. Jimin himself is visible with his pink azaleas among the sea of different species of flowers, standing on the front step with Seokjin and Yoongi at his side.

As Namjoon watches, Jimin is pulled into a hug from an elder with weathered snapdragons in her dusty gray hair and accepts her basket of fruit, continuing to blush long after she had stopped pinching his cheeks. Seokjin must have made a comment about it then as he takes the basket, because now Jimin’s hiding his face behind his hands.

Then it’s Suran’s turn.

Namjoon thought he had already lost his heart by then, but for some reason, seeing that same expression of exasperated caring on her face again as she cups Jimin’s jaw, makes something inside Namjoon crumble. The way Suran’s orchids nuzzle up against the azaleas when their owner ducks his head to hug her.

It’s too much, entirely too much. The people, the gifts, the whole gathering… It all makes him realize all over again and again how much Jimin is loved. And by how many others apart from himself.

Suddenly, Namjoon’s knuckles are shaking white against the clay jar still in his hands and he’s having difficulty trying to swallow back his tears.

He’s turning to walk away when someone stops him with a strong grip at his elbow.

It’s Taehyung. His dandelions are twisting in dizzying paces and patterns amongst his orange hair.

“Why are you going without saying something?” He demands.

Namjoon makes a reluctant sound in the back of his throat as he pulls away. “It’s nothing important,” he mutters. “And besides, he’s busy... and I’ll see him tomorrow...”

He’s surprised when Taehyung lets him go, but he doesn’t miss the shift in the younger’s expression to something more unreadable as something like understanding seeps in.

But he tries to ignore the leap in his chest as he sets down the container of carnations among the other gifts and walks towards the front gate, only looking over his shoulder once to see Taehyung still watching him go. And Jimin standing still in a pause between the stream guests, his hands in his jeans pockets, eyes now trained on the yellow and striped carnations that Namjoon had left behind.

In the interim, Hoseok starts to spend more time with them at the greenhouse, filling in the gaps that Jimin leaves behind with enthusiasm and patience.

“It’s been a lost cause for a long time,” he says, when Namjoon asks about the post office when they’re alone one day. “People have moved on, it’s about time I have too.” He lets out a small chuckle and scratches the back of his head. A few red poppies flutter their petals. “I’m just lucky that I have somewhere to go.”

Namjoon smiles, but before he can say any more, the door opens and Jimin comes in with a couple bottles of various flowers in his arms and a pencil clamped between his teeth.

“Oh,” he says, quickly setting a few bottles down on a nearby stool and tucking his pencil behind his ear. “Am I interrupting something?”

Hoseok speaks up, “No, not at all,” he replies, grinning. “Namjoon was just helping me understand your notes...”

Anything Namjoon could have said then withers on the spot. Something less like jealousy and more like heartache rises in Namjoon’s throat as he watches Jimin smile back at Hoseok then, and knowing exactly the smooth expression Hoseok makes in response.

Because, not long ago, it had been him.

Between caring for patients, taking shifts to teach Hoseok, researching, and adjusting to Jimin’s eventual absence, Namjoon doesn’t have time to speak to the younger.

Or so he tells himself.

Before long, though, he finds himself tiptoeing around Jimin all the time, avoiding the greenhouse at every opportunity. Soon, he doesn’t even remember the last conversation he’s had with Jimin that extended beyond sharing information and didn’t end with the feeling of Jimin’s concerned eyes burning into his back when he walks away. But Namjoon also can’t shake or begin to explain the feeling and doesn’t know what else to do.

He knows it hurts Jimin, and it hurts him too.

But he just can’t bring himself to look at Jimin and not see all of the familiarity and comfort he’s built and lived in for so long, leaving him.

And leaving him emptier than before.

Jimin finally corners him one day when Namjoon is finishing up pruning Taehyung’s dandelions. Namjoon has the sneaking suspicion that they had planned this, but when Jimin locks the door behind Taehyung, he has to admit that it’s for the best.

He can’t stay away from Jimin – or this – anymore.

“Why are you avoiding me?” Jimin asks, wasting no time. “And don’t say you aren’t.”

Crossing an arm over his chest to rub the other shoulder, Namjoon sets down his pen and notebook and avoids Jimin’s eyes. “I… I don’t know.”

“Is it because I’m leaving?”

Dropping his gaze to a fallen head of moss rosebud just to the right of Jimin’s sneakers, Namjoon slumps his shoulders, attempting to ignore the goosebumps that erupt on his skin that has nothing to do with the temperature.

Jimin takes all of this in with furrowed eyebrows and tight lips. But when he speaks again, it’s much gentler.

“Namjoon,” he murmurs. He bends forward but peeks up at Namjoon, trying to meet his eyes. “You know I have to go…”

There are crescent moons appearing in Namjoon’s palms as he clenches his fist and jaw. “I know,” he grits out. “I-I just don’t know what I’m feeling and how to act. I want you to stay, I mean we all do, I know I’m not special… But…” He takes a shaky breath. “I know you have to go, I know that you’re sacrificing a lot to leave. No one wants to hold you back… And I’m afraid that you’re going alone, but I know you’d take Taehyung or Hoseok or anyone else with ‒ ”

“ Namjoon .” Jimin’s expression is suddenly brightly fierce and his pink azaleas seem to almost sharpen their edges as well. “You know that you mean so much to me, you know that. If I had to take someone with me, anyone from this town ‒ or ever ‒ I would want it to be you .”

The last word drops like a skipping stone with no jumps or momentum left. Heavy and ringing through the surface and almost final. The moment then does too and stills.

Yet, something passionate is igniting and burning through the maze of veins in Namjoon’s body, his mind racing miles per second. This tension in this instant of time, and having his own words spoken like this, though different but same in meaning and intent, is almost too much to process.

And Jimin just looks like he’s only realizing now what he’s saying. A deep flush creeps across his cheeks and bridge of his nose like ivy, tangling and spreading so beautifully. But, he does not turn his head away. Only drops his gaze and bites his bottom lip.

Namjoon has forgotten how to breathe. He wants to tell Jimin so many things that he can’t express, or doesn’t even know yet. But he wants Jimin to know, what he’s thinking, what he’s believes, what he feels so dangerously.

And there’s the now-flourishing hope that it’s not one-sided, as he had believed for so long. It’s here, it’s standing between them, an obstacle as well as a bridge. He’s been standing still in this one place for so long that he’s almost taken root while the world moves on, with or without him. But now he wants to run, to push, to grow...

So he does. He steps forward, bends down, so close that it’s not invasive and Jimin could move towards or away if he wanted to.

Jimin’s name sounds so clean and sweet in Namjoon’s mouth when he says it now, and Jimin is so close and still smells light blue-purple, gentle, smooth —

Jimin’s lips are slightly cracked and only quiet because of his hesitancy. But still just as warm as every passing brush they’ve shared over the greenhouse hours, and just as right. Namjoon can feel the very air breaking, crumbling, and tumbling into the back of his mouth and dripping all over his broken edges.

He tastes a sky so lavender that he is falling all over again.

Namjoon feels himself gasp, Jimin's lips plush and soft as they drag across his mouth. But, as if shocked, Jimin pulls back then at the sound, and Namjoon sees the uncertainty in his face, as if Jimin is expecting to be pushed away.

Even someone like Jimin, who is so beautiful and so universally adored, is afraid he isn't wanted. The realization and absurdity of the thought cracks through Namjoon's mind like thunder.

But his arms have found their way around Jimin’s ribs, holding him there from running away. All Namjoon can think about is how Jimin is still here in his arms, wanting to kiss him — wanting (Namjoon almost dares to hope, in the most secret chamber of his heart) to love him.

Pressing their torsos together, Namjoon leans down, eyes watching Jimin carefully, and kisses him.

Immediately, Jimin gives all in and, closing his eyes, parts his mouth to make a weighty sound somewhere in the back of his throat. Spurred by the confirmation, Namjoon is leaning in and in with more surety until he’s overtaking the already negligi