[A/N: So I'm dumb af and finished writing this forever ago but forgot to post it here (I mainly write on Ao3 these days). Sorry if there was anyone waiting for it ;-;

 

 

Trigger warning: hints at depression, bad coping mechanisms, obvious low self-esteem/self-worth, general swearing.]


 

At twenty-four, Taehyung quits his job and moves to Daegu to deal with his gran’s estate. His father is unwilling to, as they weren’t related and had lost any connection when Taehyung’s mother had passed. Taehyung reasons the timing, so soon after the split, is a sign it should be him and – really – there is no one else, his siblings still too young to handle such a responsibility. So Taehyung packs up his life, and cuts himself clean of Seoul. Jimin is the only blip in the plan, it seems, the only tie left now that Jeongguk is out of the picture.

 

Jimin worries about being left behind, but pushes those fears to the back of his mind since Taehyung’s worries are bigger than, greater than, matter more. He offers to go with him to Daegu, but Taehyung insists Jimin shouldn’t sacrifice his own career for him.

 

In the first few weeks, Jimin drifts, disconnecting. It almost feels like they’re back in university, apart for months at a time to reunite in the holidays, their friendship kept sated through late night phone calls and instant messaging.

 

But within the first few months, they start to drift. They talk less – Taehyung is busy, after all, even if Jimin does everything to clear his own schedule when Taehyung asks to chat. Jimin retreats into himself, the disconnect growing as Taehyung drifts from his grasp and Jimin once more retracts from the world around him.

 

Four months pass, and he hasn’t spoken out loud in over a week. Hasn’t talked with Taehyung in two. Doesn’t know where Jeongguk even is, how he’s doing. He arrives at work early and leaves late, shops when no one else is out and eats alone. He drafts and redrafts messages to friends, and ultimately deletes every single attempt.

 

It’s Yoongi who eventually snaps first, arriving on Jimin’s doorstep unannounced with chicken and beer and a simmering dose of anger due to not hearing from Jimin in over a month.

 

 

Yoongi had always been a quiet person. When Jimin first met him, they hadn’t exchanged a word. He had bought him a coffee, feeling sympathy for the clearly exhausted student sat across from him in the university café, headphones in and dead to the work. When Jimin placed it down in front of him, trying to sneakily take a peek at whatever the boy was working on oh so tirelessly, Yoongi had glanced up and smiled before going right back to staring down his laptop.

 

Jimin hadn’t thought too much of it, until a week later when a steaming Starbucks mug suddenly appeared in his direct line of sight. Following up the arm extending from it, Jimin came face to face with the same gentle smile. Yoongi had introduced himself, and – upon Jimin’s own quiet exclamation of content at the drink’s contents – explained the barista told him Jimin preferred tea. It had been a small exchange of fairly big risk on both their parts. A quiet exchange of loud possibility.

In the following year, that possibility blossomed into easily the most fulfilling relationship of Jimin’s life. Usually surrounded by noise, Jimin hadn’t realised how much he needed a source of calm in his day-to-day until it was already there. He lived for Yoongi’s quiet, and adored the moments of loud happiness that would burst from him on really good days – because living in the quiet, he was so much more prepared for loud. Jimin had thought, once upon a time, that he had been falling for Yoongi. He made him happy, and as no one had done that before then that had to mean something, right? He wanted Yoongi to fall for him too.

 

But.

 

(When Jimin wanted…)

 

Love, Jimin found, was rarely symmetrical. Where Yoongi was good for him, he wasn’t sure he had ever been good for Yoongi. Quiet Yoongi lived for noise, lived for it to bring him out of his shell so he could respond with his own breathless laughter. Jimin was loud.

 

But Jimin was loud in faked enthusiasm and faked confidence. Loud in his aggression. More often than not, Yoongi had to calm him down – his quiet soothing Jimin’s noise. But he couldn’t always sooth, that wouldn’t have been fair, and slowly but surely Jimin had found himself subject to the other side of Yoongi’s quiet. Arguments shut down and avoided, days of not speaking.

 

Yoongi has always been a quiet person, so it makes sense his anger is quiet also.

 

 

Jimin, twenty-four, feels a nineteen year old’s fear climb up his throat as he stares down at Yoongi, fuming in his doorway.

 

“Where have you been?”

 

Jimin had wanted to be better, had tried to be better, but at the end of the day it hadn’t been enough. Was never enough.

 

“Here? Hyung, what are you doing-”

 

Yoongi left him behind.

 

“Oh, you’ve been here, huh? Then explain why the Hoseok and I haven’t seen you in nearly two months.”

 

When Yoongi had met Hoseok – loud, exuberant Hoseok – he had yanked Yoongi into noise and conversation.

 

“I’ve been busy.”

 

Hoseok had dragged Yoongi kicking and screaming through every argument they had.

 

 

“Doing what?”

 

Made him talk, through every argument they had.

 

“Work has-”

 

It was something Jimin had been terrified to ever attempt to do. Too anxious he wasn’t allowed to ask, wouldn’t be able to defend himself when asked in turn.

 

“Picked up, right? That’s what you keep saying when we try to call. So how come when I contacted your boss he told me you’re three weeks ahead of deadline?”

 

Jimin could see how good Hoseok was for Yoongi, how he had needed someone to push him to be honest in his upset and let people know when he was hurting.

 

“You called my boss?”

 

The problem was, as Yoongi grew and learned healthier behaviours – he expected Jimin to, also.

 

“Yeah, since it seems to be the only way to see how you’re doing these days. Which is, apparently, not good. So, spill. Now.”

 

But Jimin hadn’t had someone like Hoseok.

 

“There’s… there’s honestly not a lot to tell.”

 

Hadn’t really had anyone, after Yoongi.

 

“Really? You’re not gonna try to talk yourself out of this?”

 

Had retreated.

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

Retracted.

 

“I came here expecting an honest reason at best, and excuse at worst, and at the very ing least an apology.”

 

At nineteen, Yoongi hadn’t been there to force him out of his own isolation.

 

“I am sorry hyung.”

 

At twenty-four, Jimin isn’t sure it’s good he is.

 

“I guess it’s a ing start. Move. We’re going to have dinner and you’re going to ing talk.”

 

 

Whether good or bad, Yoongi is there. Quiet in his anger and loud in his upset. He tears into Jimin as he eats most of the chicken and Jimin drinks most of the beer.

 

Jimin doesn’t understand what he’s doing wrong, when he’s not hurting anyone. Yoongi tells him he’s hurting himself. Jimin tries to wave it off but Yoongi is insistent. When Yoongi points out that he and Hoseok are hurt by Jimin’s blatant lack of self-preservation, Jimin finally promises to try putting himself first.

 

He leaves, and they make a habit of meeting up for lunch once a week – him, Yoongi and Hoseok. It’s nice, Jimin thinks.

 

(It makes him feel less inhuman.)

 

 That has to mean something, right?

 

 

A week after Yoongi leaves for a business trip and Hoseok has to bail on lunch for the third day in a row due to a bad case of the flu, Jimin asks Taehyung if he wants to call. It’s been a while since he’s heard from his best friend, long enough that he doesn’t feel like a nuisance for asking.

 

They skirt around topics of little importance, before Taehyung redirects his own issues to Jimin’s, ever reluctant to show that type of vulnerability. Jimin is starting to feel like a nuisance, so he goes with it – bringing up the weekly lunch dates and visit that sparked it all.

 

“How come you always end up the third wheel?”

 

Taehyung is teasing, Jimin can hear the smile in his voice. He smiles back, glad Taehyung is starting to joke about these things – however indirect.

 

“You know me, forever alone.”

 

“Single, not alone.”

 

Jimin huffs at the correction.

 

“Sure.”

 

He’s not entirely sure it is correct.

 

“Poor Chim, surrounded by couples without his own Prince Charming to pay for his lunch!”

 

“Harr harr. Honestly, Yoongi hyung still pays most of the time despite Hoseok hyung and I both making a more regular wage.”

 

“He’s stubborn.”

 

“You can say that again.”

 

“I can’t believe he really just showed up on at your door to yell at you.”

 

Yell is the wrong word, he thinks, remembering Yoongi’s restrained frustration. 

 

“I probably needed it.”

 

It’s an easy enough admittance to make, considering how much he looks forward to their lunches.

 

“Still. A little dramatic, wasn’t it?”

 

“Hyung’s gotten a lot more dramatic these days.”

 

“Hoseok’s doing?”

 

Jimin can’t help but smile, loving his hyungs’ antics.

 

“Most likely.”

 

“They’re a weird couple.”

 

He isn’t sure he agrees with that.

 

“I guess? They’re really good together though.”

 

“You think?”

 

Taehyung definitely doesn’t sound like he agrees with that.

 

“They make each other happy. Don’t you think so?”

 

“I mean sure, I just wonder sometimes…”

 

“About?”

 

Jimin doesn’t mean the harsh edge that colours his response, but he can hear it there as clearly as Taehyung must be able to, so he doesn’t stop him when he changes the subject.

 

“Nothing. So, Mr Third Wheel, any news on a fourth?”

 

“No.”

 

He frowns. The edge is still there.

 

“That sounded final. Are you so adverse to the idea?”

 

Taehyung sounds like he’s frowning too.

 

“Not adverse, just think it’s unlikely.”

 

“How come?”

 

“Well, I mean, you know…”

 

“I don’t?”

 

“Come on Tae, you don’t have to bull me.”

 

Jimin doesn’t know why he’s struggling so much today. He feels like he’s being needlessly confrontational – he’s not thinking before he’s speaking and that never ends well.

 

“I’m not?”

 

He really doesn’t want to argue, and Taehyung is starting to sound annoyed himself.

 

“I just know it’s not likely.”

 

He tries his best to smooth it out.

 

“I am so lost right now.”

 

“Not a lot of people would want to date me.”

 

Gentle his tone.

 

“What? Says who?”

 

But Taehyung sounds definitely pissed now.

 

“Tae.”

 

He keeps his tone placating.

 

“I’m not bullting. Who the said that to you?”

 

But Taehyung remains angry.

 

“Well, no one. I can see it for myself.”

 

“You’re an idiot.”

 

He recoils. That was venomous.

 

“Rude.”

 

“I’m not sorry. What twisted version of reality are you seeing?”

 

He isn’t sure why, and it’s honestly a little hurtful.

 

“It’s not twisted, Tae, I’m being realistic.”

 

“You’re being pessimistic. You’re a catch, Chim.”

 

That makes him snort.

 

“In what world.”

 

“In all the worlds! You’re caring and funny and committed, not to mention hot as . What aren’t you getting here?”

 

He flushes. He’s at a loss – a strange mixture of hurt and flattered fighting in his chest.

 

“I just don’t think people see me as that desirable Tae, like yeah I’m a decent person who’s decent looking-”

 

“Hot as .”

 

“Decent looking. But it’s yet to be enough, so yeah. I’m not going to hold out for that’s yet to ever work out.”

 

“So this is about Yoongi hyung?”

 

He gapes – entirely unprepared for that question and utterly confused at Taehyung’s logic.

 

“What? No?”

 

“Then who’s it about?”

 

“No one? Me, I guess? It’s just a thing, Tae. It’s not really specific to anyone.”

 

“Hm.”

 

Taehyung doesn’t sound like he believes him, and it’s incredibly aggravating.

 

“I’m just being realistic.”

 

“Pessimistic. I wish you could see you how I see you.”

 

He pauses, wondering if he should ask.

 

“How do you see me?”

 

“Hot as -”

 

The answer is simultaneously smile-inducing and a little disappointing.

 

“Taehyung.”

 

“I’m being serious! I’d you.”

 

He laughs, ultimately. They’re back in teasing territory, friendly.

 

“Gee thanks.”

 

“You love me. Anyway, I have to go now – but we should call more often? I miss you.”

 

Jimin grins at that, wide.

 

“I miss you too, we should definitely call more! Promise?”

 

“Pinky promise.”

 

They don’t.

 

 

When another week of isolation passes – Yoongi still away, Hoseok still recovering and Taehyung still AWOL – Jimin tentatively contacts Jeongguk, unsure if he even still has the same number. It’s a tiny portion spiteful, because Taehyung promised, but mainly it’s desperate – mainly needing human contact. He decides if Jeongguk still has the same number and hasn’t blocked him, it’s a sign they should try being friends again.

 

Jeongguk messages him back that same morning, and they meet up that same day for lunch – their work breaks coinciding. When Jimin steps foot into the small corner café they had used to frequent when it has still been all three of them, Jeongguk is there to greet him with a smile so large Jimin has to consciously acknowledge it as real, and a hug so tight it nearly forces tears into his eyes.

 

“I’ve missed you, hyung.”

 

Lunch between them becomes a regular thing, and Jimin slowly but surely starts to feel a little more human, a little more connected. Once a week Yoongi and Hoseok join them, but usually it’s just them. It feels both familiar and strange – they don’t quite know how to be around each other without Taehyung there as a buffer, but Jimin thinks they can learn.

 

If nothing else, he’s angry far less.

 

 

Finally, Taehyung calls. They don’t speak for long – Taehyung in-between one lawyer and the next – but Jimin braves the fear in his throat and tells him about Jeongguk joining the lunch dates, even if he does omit that they meet alone as well as with Yoongi and Hoseok. He reasons he’s easing Taehyung into it. To his credit, Taehyung tells him it’s fine – that he’s happy they’re managing to stay friends.

 

But a week passes and it’s not fine. They talk even less. Jeongguk blames himself when, another week gone by, Jimin brings it up. He shuts it down quickly, saying that if Taehyung had an issue he should have told him, but as time goes on he can see it bothering Jeongguk as much as it bothers him.

 

Eventually, they start texting again. It’s sporadic, and they don’t call. They don’t talk about Jeongguk. Off-handedly, Jimin wonders why Yoongi isn’t yelling at Taehyung to keep in touch more.

 

For the first time in years, Jimin finds himself truly angry. Angry at Yoongi, sometimes. Angry at Taehyung.

 

But.

 

He can’t bring it up, right? Can’t ask him. If he asks him and Taehyung says it is an issue, how is he to defend himself when he ultimately continues to see Jeongguk? Because he is going to keep spending time with him.

(He feels human again, almost.)

 

So the anger sits, quiet, until – weeks on – Taehyung deletes all of his social media.

 

Jimin calls him in a small panic, nuisance be damned, and is only slightly placated when Taehyung says he just needs some space from the world.

 

Months go by. They text, sometimes.

 

 

Jimin moves in with Jeongguk.