[ A/N: I've been working a youth residential this month, and dear god I'm dead. (Imagine 9 days in a row where you're working 17 hours and then goddamn camping at night.) I am beyond exhausted, so this isn't proofed at all. Whelp.

 

Trigger warning: Implied homophobia, depression and poor self-worth, minor character death. ]

 

 

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At twenty, Yoongi had told Jimin he was a terrible actor – always wearing his emotions on his sleeve. In truth, Jimin was a very good actor. He was used to faking. He faked confidence, faked enthusiasm, faked happiness. What Yoongi had seen had been a performance – those moments where it was so much that Jimin had to show something. Yet he always chose what, and how much.

 

(Jimin didn’t want for much. Then, he’d wanted someone to love him. Yoongi, maybe.)

 

When it was too much, he let his emotions flow out of him steadily, like gradually letting water out of a hose. He could manage it that way, dictate how it was interpreted as well as how he’d deal with it and process through it – pick and choose what oozed out around the edges.

 

 

 

By twelve, Jimin started to learn this craft. When attractions were flaring, and his father’s words had started to sink their hooks deeper and deeper into his mind, he learned that others’ opinions were easier to focus on than his own depleting self-worth. He learned to hide his initial responses – hide his thoughts and feelings – from himself as well if he could, although, that wasn’t always as successful. He found he had to do this in order to survive.

 

In the beginning, he’d hidden everything – become a shell, quiet and unlikely to draw attention. He couldn’t show his real emotions, so he showed nothing. Faked apathy. Anything, to gain his parents’ approval.

 

(Jimin didn’t want for much. Then, he’d wanted someone to love him, too.)

 

By twenty, Jimin had mastered this craft so well that he had a sculpted feeling about everything. He wore emotions like clothing – slipped on and exchanged at will. He let those around him see jittery excitement instead of anxiety, soft affection instead of exhaustion, introversion instead of isolation, happiness instead of apathy.

 

Anger instead of depression.

 

He was known to have a temper.

 

 

 

At twenty-two, Jeongguk became aware of that temper.

 

Jeongguk came from a supportive family. His parents knew about his uality from his very first boyfriend. He hadn’t felt the need to hide his very first boyfriend – to him, there was nothing wrong with it, because he’d never been told there was. When Jeongguk came out, his parents told him he was brave for telling them. When Jimin tried, tested the water, he was told to stop seeking attention.

 

Even though that had been during the years he was trying to be invisible. 

 

So, when they became friends – they had to, Jimin reasoned, if he wanted to keep Taehyung in his life – it had been tentative. Jimin didn’t know Jeongguk well, didn’t know how perceptive he was and what personality he should wear to appeal to the younger boy, and what he did know had something deep in him aching.

 

Jeongguk’s parents accepted him. Jeongguk’s parents always had. They loved him, and supported him, and Jeongguk was this confident and assured, beautifully adjusted person that Jimin struggled to be around because it reminded him of what he wasn’t.

 

(Jimin didn’t want for much. Then, what he wanted he didn’t get.

 

But Jeongguk did.)

 

So he resorted to anger, because anger was safe – it was an emotion he’d long since perfected the look of, and could use productively. It helped that Jeongguk made a habit of winding him up, pushing his buttons, and Jimin took this as him wanting to get a rise – so he delivered; met the expectation. After a while, it became honest annoyance instead of faked aggression – or at least, it was faked for effect rather than a shield – and a real friendship was formed out of their push and pull dynamic. Jimin wasn’t sure it was the healthiest relationship, but.

 

But.

 

He liked Jeongguk. He really did. After Taehyung and Yoongi, he was probably Jimin’s favourite person – his head revolting against him whenever they were in the same room wasn’t Jeongguk’s fault, after all, Jimin reasoned. His envy was his own issue, he reasoned. He could play it off as admiration, anyway.

 

Play it off as having a short fuse.

 

He liked Jeongguk. He wanted to stay friends, but he wanted to be a good friend to Taehyung too. Now that they’d split, could he be both? Jimin worried he’d be blamed again, isolated, a sixteen year old’s fear crawling up his throat at the thought. He wanted to keep them both in his life.

 

(What he wanted, he didn’t get.)

 

 

 

When Jimin finally convinces himself to call, Jeongguk agrees to meet him.

 

He suggests coffee, Jeongguk shows up on his doorstep.

 

When Jeongguk asks how Taehyung is, Jimin tentatively asks him what happened.

 

“Nothing happened, that’s the issue.”

 

Jimin blinks. He – he doesn’t understand how that’s an issue.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I mean nothing’s changed,” Jeongguk reiterates.

 

Jimin starts to wonder if he’s missing something.

 

“Why is that a bad thing?”

 

“Because relationships are supposed to progress, Jimin. They’re supposed to change.”

 

Ah. This, Jimin has heard before. He doesn’t know if he agrees with it, but he knows it’s a common perception – something he’s supposed to think too.

 

(He doesn’t put any thought into why he might not.)

 

“So, you’re just going to live your life by what’s supposed to happen?”

 

Jeongguk released an angry puff of air, pushing his fringe out of his eyes for a brief moment. Jimin can see he’s frowning.

 

“You’re missing the point – it’s not healthy for relationships, of any sort, to stay stagnant. It means they’re not growing – it means the people involved aren’t growing.”

 

Jimin is – struggling. He struggles long after Jeongguk finishes, waiting expectantly for his response. He wants to ask something he can predict the answer to.

 

“So,” he begins, tentative still. “You feel you can’t grow with Taehyung?”

 

“I think I could-”

 

Now, Jimin pounces.

 

“Then why are you-”

 

But Jeongguk continues forward.

 

“-if I got to know Taehyung, but he won’t let me.”

 

Another silence follows, as Jimin decides what to say. He’s not struggling now, so much as at a complete loss of words.

 

“Guk you’ve been dating for years,” he eventually starts, unwilling to mask his perplexity. “How can you not know him?”

 

“The Taehyung I’m in love with isn’t Taehyung.”

 

Well, Jimin thinks, that makes no sense.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I mean he puts on a show, Jimin. You must know that.”

 

Jimin fails to see the issue with this.

 

“Everyone does,” he states.

 

“Not twenty-four/seven. He won’t let me even catch a glimpse of the real him,” Jeongguk exclaims.

 

(Jimin doesn’t put any thought into why he might not.)

 

“People show different sides to different people, Guk. You ever considered that that Taehyung is just who he is with you?”

 

“I told myself that for a long time, but I’ve been around him long enough now to see him do it Chim. I can see him putting on a face whenever he’s alone and I walk into the space. Do you know how much that hurts?”

 

“You’re meant to love him through difficult times, Jeongguk. That’s how relationships work.”

“Not twenty-four/seven! And I do love him. I do. I think I’d love the real him too, but if he won’t show me then I can’t know.”

 

Jimin doesn’t know what to do with this. Jeongguk is seeing this in too much of a black and white manner, he thinks.

 

“I think you’re overthinking this – Tae is so open with you. It’s genuine, Guk, I know it is.”

 

Finally, Jeongguk looks unsure of himself.

 

“How can you know?” he asks, beseechingly. Jimin offers him a gentle smile.

 

“Because you’re the only one who get to see him like that.”

 

He can see Jeongguk try to smile back, briefly, before it turns sad; bitter. Angry.

 

“No, Jimin. He tells you more than he tells me, and he shows neither of us anything.”

 

He showed Jimin how much Jeongguk hurt him.

 

“That’s not true!”

 

He shows Jimin a lot.

 

“It is!”

 

At least, he used to.

 

“He phoned me crying his eyes out on Friday Jeongguk, you think that wasn’t honest?”

 

Jimin thinks of sixteen, under the stairs.

 

“And see how much it took to get a truthful reaction out of him?”

 

He used to, he does, how can Jeongguk not see that?

 

“Guk!”

 

“What are you even trying to do right now, Jimin?”

 

Jimin’s thoughts screech. What is he trying to do? What should he do?

 

(He doesn’t put any thought into what he wants to do.)

 

“What?”

 

“You’ve been wanting us to break up since we started dating, why are you trying to keep us together now?”

 

Jimin feels his spine pull taught. Whatever he should do, it isn’t this.

 

“I haven’t-”

 

“For a while I thought maybe it was me, but it’s pretty clear it’s always been Tae, right?”

 

Deny, Jimin thinks.

 

“I don’t know what you’re implying.”

 

“Don’t play dumb. You’re in love with Taehyung.”

 

Deny, deny, deny.

 

“I’m not.”

 

Jeongguk’s not biting.

 

“You are. You are, and it’s so ing obvious Jimin.”

 

What should Jimin do when someone sees through his mask? He doesn’t think it’s ever happened before to know.

 

(He doesn’t put any thought into what he wants to do. Just, does.)

 

“Okay, fine, so what? I’ve not acted on it, so why are you bringing it up? If you’re so sure of how I feel then you know I’m not a threat to you, so what do you get from this?”

 

It’s been a while since he’s let himself react honestly.

 

“You know you and Taehyung are real similar – do you like lying to those closest to you, too?”

 

But Jeongguk thinks he’s not being honest, doesn’t he? Jimin is unsure if he can even tell anymore.

 

So, he does what he knows.

 

“What do you want, Jeongguk? You want me to put some distance between us, keep myself away from Taehyung for you?”

 

Jeongguk pales at the suggestion.

 

“What? No. Why would I want that? You’re right – you’re no threat to me, I know that, and I know Tae loves me, so I don’t care whether you’re close to him or not. What I want is for my friend and my boyfriend to stop lying to me.”

 

Still, Jimin can’t quite stop the correction from slipping out.

 

“Ex.”

 

“What?”

 

Well, no going back now.

 

“Ex-boyfriend. Or did you forget you broke his heart?”

 

Biting words.

 

“And he came crying to you, right?”

 

Jeongguk bites back, now.

 

“Yeah, you’re right. So fine, Jeongguk, clearly you don’t like how close we are, I’ll back off. Whatever you want. I can do that, just stop ing about – you’re hurting him.”

 

“That’s not what I want, and why are you even suggesting it?”

 

“What else am I supposed to do?”

 

(Jimin doesn’t put any thought into what he wants to do.)

 

“Well you’re not ing supposed to throw yourself under the bus for him!”

 

“Yes, I am, he’s my friend Jeongguk – I care about his well-being, I do my best to make him happy, you were supposed to do that too!”

 

“Not at the expense of your own happiness! Taehyung is an adult, Jimin. He doesn’t need coddling.”

 

Jimin retracts.

 

“I’m not coddling him, I’m looking out for him.”

 

“You sure there’s a difference with you, Chim?”

 

Jimin retreats.

 

“I’m being a good friend.”

 

“Cause good friends harbour crushes of said friends for years, sure.”

 

Jimin pretends to be angry.

 

“ you.”

 

It’s quiet. They’re quiet, for a while. Jimin half expects Jeongguk to leave.

 

“Listen, Jimin, I just want you to realise.”

 

Jimin knows that tone – placating, worried. It makes him grind his teeth.

 

“Realise what, Jeongguk? That I’ve ed up your relationship with my big fat crush?”

 

“That this isn’t about you! Taehyung’s life isn’t your life, you have your own.”

 

“I get it, okay? I know I’m overbearing. I ing get it. I try not to be, I’ll try harder, I can keep to myself if that’s what you want just – just tell me what to do, Guk.”

 

“That’s not – Chim, that’s not what I’m trying to say at all.”

 

Jimin doesn’t understand.

 

“Then what, Guk? What do you want me to do?”

 

(He doesn’t try to.)

 

“I want you to make a decision for yourself, for once.”

 

Jimin tries to come up with an example, before Jeongguk leaves, but he’s already grabbing his bag and storming out of the flat, and Jimin struggles long after the door slams before giving up.

 

 

Later that evening, Jeongguk texts him apologising – profusely – and wishing they can still be friends, given time. But.

 

But Jimin is scared. He’s scared that he’s not allowed to be friends with someone like Jeongguk. Scared that he is. Doesn’t know if he should want to be, or not.

 

(He doesn’t put any thought into whether he actually does, instead of whether he should.)

 

He’s playing with his phone, drafting and redrafting a response when another text drops into his inbox.

 

‘Can you call me?’ – Taehyung.

 

Jimin knows he needs to call. He’s tired and upset, but he needs to call. He calls.

 

(He doesn’t put any thought into whether he wants to, or even if he should.)

 

“Taehyung? Are you okay?”

 

(Jimin wants those he cares about to be happy.)

 

“My gran died.”