the cold metal of his pocketknife presses against jimin’s thigh.

“which sector?” he mutters to the tall blonde boy who sits beside him, rifling through the ammunition box casually. taehyung hums, glancing at the scrawl on the back of his hand.

“seven.”

jimin nods, shoving his gun back into its strap and pushing himself to his feet. taehyung follows his actions eagerly, even going as far as to copy jimin’s stretching motions. it’s cute, in a way, he’s like an overexcited puppy.

 

taehyung is seventeen years old, from last year’s batch of initiates. as an amity-born boy, he found it hard to make friends, most people finding him too kind to be dauntless. jimin noticed this and took it upon himself to take taehyung under his wing, giving him extra training help at night and providing tips and tricks on how to get through training. since taehyung moved on from initiation, ranking fifth in his final assessment, the two of them began to work together as patrols for the borders.

 

since the massacre two years ago where erudite and dauntless decided to join forces to obliterate all factionless and divergents, the patrols have been raised. a rebel group, bts, have been fighting against the dauntless and erudites, going on protests and spraying the border walls in multitudes of green. the green is supposed to represent their defiance of the rules, while representing life, renewal and safety. jimin always wonders of the effectiveness of protesting with colours, seeing as people can only really see them if they’ve fallen in love, but nevertheless the concept stands. since the colour was claimed by bts, it has become somewhat taboo for the factions. anyone wearing green will be taken for a rebel and arrested. bts is large, the numbers having grown to over a hundred by the last year alone. the majority of the members are either factionless, divergents, or people who have run from their factions in rebellion. a part of jimin, however small, envies them. a small side of him wants to be part of that.

 

as he and taehyung head to their patrol station for today, jimin lets his fingers trace along the gritty walls. scrawls of ‘EVERYONE’S AFRAID OF CHANGE’ and ‘WE’RE TOO YOUNG TO GIVE UP’ litter the walls in shades of green from mint to emerald.

 

they reach their assigned sector in less than ten minutes by foot. jimin leans against the wall relaxedly with his gun slung across his back and mask pulled over his mouth and nose, while taehyung decides to wander around nearby as always. he sometimes picks flowers, the weeds that grow from the cracks in the footpath, and hands them to jimin in little bunches with a grin. it is so undeniably, endearingly amity of him. jimin always keeps them tied with twine on his bedside table for a few days before finally tossing down the chasm when they start to rot, with the knowledge that taehyung will probably have more for him in a day or two.

 

it is almost the end of jimin’s shift when he sees a group clad in differing hues of green approaching. he groans and presses the back of his head against the wall in irritation. of course, of course of all sectors it had to be his that the rebels choose today. they normally come in groups of ten or so, with sacks filled with green spray paint cans. the patrols always rotate, and bts chooses different areas to target every time, so he has only ever encountered them twice in his two years of patrolling. he glances over at taehyung who is picking at the cracks in the wall with his knife absent-mindedly, reasonably far from jimin’s spot.

 

it takes the rebels approximately two minutes to reach jimin. he waits with crossed arms and a foot propped against the wall, watching them blankly. his eyes fall on two of the rebels at the front. they are young, maybe of twelve years at most, but their eyes are glinting and there are joyful smiles plastered across their faces. it takes some effort for jimin not to smile at the sight, because he is dauntless, and should have no business with rebels.

it is technically protocol to pull out his gun right about now, to point it at the rebels and tell them to retreat or they will be killed. jimin does none of these things. he never really had any inclination towards guns, not since two years ago. his weapon remains safely strapped to his back, and he simply arches an eyebrow at the green-clad crowd that watch him apprehensively, as if challenging him to attack.

instead, he sighs and blows a curl of brown hair out of his face.

“rebels, please retreat or i will be forced to shoot,” he calls, but it is a bluff and both he and they know it from his relaxed stance and unmoving position.

 

they stare at him. the two kids that had been grinning before are now watching him in bemusement. the adults all stand behind them, wearing equally puzzled expressions, before someone from the back yells out a “just pull out the cans and start, everyone!” and jimin groans, standing and straightening before he finally takes his gun.

“retreat or i will be forced to shoot. i will not repeat myself again.” this time it is more firm. the rebels consider him for a moment, but then the voice comes from the back again, gruffly yelling “just go, we don’t have time for this !” and the spray paint cans continue to get passed around, tossed in the air. in his irritation, jimin aims his gun and fires at one of the cans that is thrown a bit too far, away from the group. it explodes in a mass of dark green, showering the ground underneath it in paint with a pop and a loud hiss. it has been a long time since he shot a gun, but thankfully he was not rusty enough to make a fool of himself in front of a group of rebels. they freeze for real this time, watching him with wide eyes.

 

he pushes himself away from the walls and walks towards them with a sigh, readjusting his mask slightly.

“who said that?” he says loudly, referring to the voice that had called orders before.

“who’s the one giving orders? if you can tell it to your group, you can tell it to my face. come out.”

 

there is silence for a few moments, before the group shifts and a small figure pushes to the front.

“me.” the person says defiantly, mint green hair glinting in the sunlight.

“i give the orders.”  

the sentence is loud, clear, and even though colours have long since dimmed to jimin since the loss of his loved one, he can’t think of anything to describe the voice but violet.

jimin’s heart stops.

no.

“y-yoongi?” he whispers softly, more to himself than anything, but it is caught anyway.

The man in front of him steps forward, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“what? how’d you know that name? who are you?”

jimin’s heart is thumping in his throat, and he can’t take his eyes off the familiar face in front of him.

no no no no no-

“jimin-hyung! what’s going on?” taehyung’s voice calls from his left, and the mint-haired man in front of him recoils.

“jimin?”

jimin blinks at him, swallowing around the dry lump in his throat, before reaching up to peel the mask off his face, letting it flutter to the ground.

yoongi- no, not yoongi, yoongi’s lookalike- stumbles back, eyes wide.

“jimin? oh my god-”

one of the kids from the rebel group taps the mint-haired man on the shoulder.

“suga? what’s happening? who’s he?”

suga?

jimin’s breath catches.

suga...

he’s mistaken. it’s not yoongi, it’s just some lookalike, some rebel leader with the same eyes and voice and the same rosiness in his cheeks. jimin looks away, but then the yoongi-doppelganger in front of him breathes out a soft “jimin-ie?” and no, no, no, jimin knows that voice. that’s his yoongi hyung, and he’s sure of it.

taehyung finally reaches jimin, putting a soft hand on his shoulder, but jimin can’t take his gaze away from the green-haired rebel in front of him.

“hyung,” jimin chokes out, stepping forward, and yoongi does too, but then taehyung’s hand is firmer on his shoulder, pulling him back.

“jimin-hyung, what the hell? what’s going on?”

jimin swallows thickly again, shaking his head slightly.

“nothing.” he forces out, tearing his gaze away from that face that he’s dreamed about for so many months.

“don’t worry about it, tae. we should head back, our shift should be over around now.” he pushes the younger boy gently in the direction that they came and taehyung complies, albeit with a confused look. jimin spares himself one final glance back over his shoulder, locking gaze with the green-haired rebel leader again. there’s a storm in his head, swirling with confusion, sadness, excitement, every possible emotion. he gives yoongi one final unreadable look before following in taehyung’s footsteps.

 

jimin doesn’t sleep that night. he tosses and turns all night, visions of mint-green hair and those familiar mocha eyes haunting the insides of his eyelids.

 

taehyung is still staring at him the next morning, begging for an answer, an explanation, anything, but jimin doesn’t speak.

“which sector?” he asks at breakfast, as if nothing has changed, and taehyung looks at him with those pleading eyes before sighing.

“four.”

jimin nods silently, before pushing away his barely-touched plate of food.

 

the day is spent in silence. taehyung doesn’t wander away this time, he doesn’t pick flowers and arrange them in a little bunch for jimin or carve little doodles into the walls that they lean on. he stays at jimin’s side, silent and unmoving. it is, once again, almost the end of their shift when there is the sound of footsteps from the distance. jimin cannot say he is completely surprised. it is the rebels once again, this time yoongi leading the group confidently.

 

no words are exchanged between the green-clad group and the pair of patrollers but tension hangs. taehyung watches apprehensively, lips pressed in a tight line. yoongi’s group walks past them in complete silence, and the green-haired leader brushes past jimin, tantalisingly close. close enough for jimin to catch the faint scent of lemon and thyme. close enough for jimin’s heart to leap into his throat, just as it used to so long ago. close enough for yoongi to slip a small piece of paper into jimin’s loosely clenched palm as he strides past, eyes unwavering.

 

sector six

9pm

 

the silence hangs heavy even after the two of the patrollers are left alone once again.

“hyung.” taehyung says. his voice is soft, hesitant. it hurts jimin, after so many months of the two of them living without secrets, without inhibitions, to feel the tension between them.

“i’m sorry.” he whispers, not looking at the younger. his hand stretches out to grasp the boy’s calloused one, squeezing it gently. i’ll explain soon, he wants to say. i’ll explain it all to you the second i figure it out myself.

instead, he swallows his words and lets go of the other’s palm.

“we should head back, our shift is ending.” he says roughly, turning away lest he see the disappointment he knows will be etched across his best friend’s face.

 

jimin skips dinner. he sits at the table quietly, staring at his untouched cup of water. taehyung’s eyes are on him, steady and unwavering. they sit in silence.

 

it is not difficult for jimin to slip away during the night, when everyone is either partying or heading straight to bed after an exhausting day. it is not difficult to weave through the crowd and out of the dauntless compound. it is also not difficult for jimin to miss the sad eyes that follow him out the doors longingly, waiting for an answer that may not ever come.

 

when he reaches the edge of sector six, it is 8:42pm, but he sees a hooded figure leaning against the walls anyway. he approaches soundlessly, palms sweaty and hot. yoongi sees him when he is a few metres away, but simply watches him, not offering any words or greeting. jimin comes to a stop almost a metre away from the man whose mint hair still glints from under the black hood. he swallows.

“i,” he says thickly, words catching in his throat.

“i, uh,”

words. what words could he use to even begin to describe what he is feeling, what he has felt for the last two years?

 

i missed you so much.

i dream about you every night.

i thought you were gone.

i loved you with every part of me.

it hurt so much i sometimes wanted to throw myself off the chasm.

you were the most beautiful thing i’d ever seen.

it should’ve been me.

i’m sorry.

i’m sorry.

i’m sorry.

 

instead, he presses his lips together and stares.

 

“your hair is brown.” the rebel leader mutters gruffly. jimin clears his throat.

 

“yeah. yours... it- it’s green.” he says dumbly, and the ghost of a smirk tugs at the edge of the other’s lips.

 

“that it is.”

 

they stand in silence once again, before, “hyung, what happened?”

 

and there it is, finally.

 

yoongi chuckles, leaning back against the wall.

 

“ah, where to start?” he sighs.

 

“let’s start with the fact that you’re alive.” jimin says quietly, and yoongi smiles hollowly.

 

“yes, okay. let’s start with that.”

 

he pauses, taking a moment to think.

 

“the rebels. bts, bangtan, whatever you want to call them. they’re run by this guy called namjoon. he’s candor-born, but chose erudite during his initiation. good thing he did, too, he’s the smartest of the lot. that day i, uh… okay, let’s just call it the day i died, hm?”

 

jimin winces slightly at the wording, the guilt that has haunted him seeping back into his mind. yoongi doesn’t notice, continuing straight on. his voice is rough and violet, just like jimin remembers.

 

“so, the day i died. namjoon was somewhat of a golden boy within erudite. smart, obedient, the perfect initiate. what the erudites didn’t know was that he’d fallen in love with another erudite initiate; kim seokjin. the kid was a year older than him, and divergent. so obviously, erudite killed seokjin, because they couldn’t deal with having someone so uncontrollable, in the most literal sense.”

 

he pauses briefly to chuckle bitterly, hand raising to scratch at the back of his neck.

 

“they couldn’t cope with the idea of a person that they can’t control, so they killed him. namjoon was there when he was killed, watching from the control room. this kind of broke namjoon, i think. he never really has seemed fully normal. from then on, he began to plan an escape of sorts. a rebellion. he wanted to break erudite and their perfect image of society. he began to change things in secret, little things. he was let in on a lot of confidential things, golden boy and all. he changed some of the codes, changed small factors in the serums that erudite produced. no one found out. it happened for years. now, you’re probably wondering where i come in, right? i’m probably boring you right now.”

 

jimin blinks, not saying anything. he is definitely wondering what role yoongi plays in this, but he is not bored, not in the slightest. and even if he was, he could probably listen to yoongi’s voice alone for hours no matter what he talked about.

yoongi nods, continuing anyway despite jimin’s lack of response.

 

“so, this rebellion. namjoon knew what erudite and dauntless were planning, because he was let in on everything that happened. he couldn’t do much without attracting suspicion, but he took note. he went and gathered the factionless, telling them of his plan. and when the day came, the day that erudite and dauntless planned to wipe out all the divergent and factionless, he ran. he took the factionless, the survivors, anyone who was not brainwashed or in on the plan, and he ran away. now, this is where i come in. namjoon found my body when he was raiding the compound. he took my body, along with tens of others. you’re probably wondering what he would want with a dead body, right?”

 

jimin nods minisculely, and yoongi purses his lips in thought, contemplating what to say next.

 

“namjoon, as i have told you already, is a genius. he is so smart that it is almost scary sometimes. in his spare time, he invented things. weapons, serums, codes, anything. one of the things namjoon had invented were these little, uh, shock pills. they’re these little pills that you could make someone ingest, and they basically send shocks to a person’s heart, try to restore a rhythm again. they’re little portable defibrillators that disintegrate in the body once they’ve done their job. now, these little pills aren’t much use to someone who’s been dead a while, but for people like me who’d been lying there maybe half an hour at most, they worked perfectly.

i was, despite being weak and half conscious, very much alive.”

 

he pauses to glance at jimin, who is staring at him with wide eyes, silently urging him to continue, and he laughs.

 

“there’s really not much to it after that. he took me with him and about a hundred others who were in similar state to me. he nursed us all back to life, every single one of us, and took us under his wing, gave us a new chance. i call myself suga there. it’s a way to start over. that’s how it’s been since.”

 

they sit in silence for a few moments, jimin digesting all the new information, and yoongi waiting for him. finally, jimin clears his throat.

 

“i- wow…” he whispers.

 

“you- you’re alive.”

 

yoongi grins at him.

 

“yes, as you can see.”

 

jimin’s head is spinning, heart aching.

 

his tongue is heavy and his throat is dry. this is real, yoongi is really here.

 

after so many sleepless nights and empty days, he is scared he will wake up from this cruel vision and find that this was all just a figment of his dreams. he is really here.

 

jimin’s heart leaps.

 

“hyung.” he whispers.

 

“yoongi-hyung.”

 

the man smiles at him, watching him intently. jimin coughs softly, eyes sparkling with unshed tears.

 

“yoongi-hyung.”

 

it is a cry, a cry of i missed you, a cry of i’m so glad you’re here.

 

yoongi turns to him, arms spreading out to welcome jimin into a hug, but instead he surges forward and presses his lips against yoongi’s desperately. the kiss is messy, lips bumping and hands fumbling, and jimin tries to put into words everything that he cannot say (which is quite a lot). he has dreamed, cried about the thought of the older man in his arms, stayed up at night thinking what if. and now yoongi is here, standing in front of him. yoongi pushes back almost immediately, hands raising to rest on jimin’s shoulders gently, lips soft against his. they stay like that for a few moments, before parting finally.

 

“hyung,” jimin says breathlessly.

 

“i missed you so much.” and yoongi beams at him, that gummy smile that makes the world around jimin sharpen, the one that makes his heart race.

 

“i missed you too, jimin-ie.”

 

jimin-ie.

 

and that is it, that is the single word that breaks the dam, sends tears rolling down jimin’s face.

 

oh, he would’ve given his life some months ago to hear that name from yoongi ever again.

 

“jimin-ie.” yoongi says again, and jimin cries harder, muffling his sobs in the older’s chest.

 

jimin-ie, jimin-ie, jimin-ie.

 

“hyung-” he sobs again stupidly against the green-haired male’s shirt, clinging on for life.

 

“hyung, i’m sorry, i’m so sorry, i-” and yoongi wraps a hand around jimin, pulling him close.

 

“it’s okay. it’s okay, jimin-ah. it’s not your fault. hyung is here.  now, tell me about you.”

 

he slides down, pulls jimin down to sit against the wall next to him.

 

“tell me,” he says softly. “about what has happened in your life all this time.”

 

jimin swipes away the dried tears on his cheeks, clearing his dry throat briefly.

 

“i- i became a patroller. there’s not much to say. i don’t have any friends, all the others are scared of me. i- hyung, it was so hard. i-i missed you...  so much.”

 

he buries his face in yoongi’s shoulder and the older boy sighs, patting him on the leg soothingly.

 

“it’s okay, you were upset. it’s okay.” he coos, and jimin shakes his head. “no- hyung, no. you don’t get it it, i wasn’t upset. i hated myself, hyung. i didn’t want to talk to anyone, do anything. i woke up wishing i didn’t, wishing it was me instead of you-” the words are tumbling out now, everything he’s kept locked away inside him for the last two years behind level gazes and blank expression.

“i used to sit at the edge of the chasm, hyung. right at the edge, and i used to think about how much better it would be if i jumped. i almost did once, but taehyung found me before i could.”

yoongi stays silent, hand stilled from its previous movement against jimin’s leg.

“well,” he says roughly, voice shaking as if he’s holding back tears. “it doesn’t matter now. it doesn’t matter anymore because i’m here. so, tell me more about this taehyung.”

 

and finally, jimin is given something he can actually talk about.

 

“taehyungie- he’s my only friend. he transferred from amity a year after us, and all the other initiates gave him for being nice, all the time. he’s the only one i have left at dauntless, the only one i care for. he was the only reason i didn’t ever think about jumping from that day on. i thought, i thought that-” jimin heaves a long, shaky breath, taking a moment to breathe properly before he continues.

“even if it hurts, even if it hurts so much i want to never feel anything again, i have to stay here for taehyung. he’s so small, so fragile, i want him to be happy, hyung. i only stayed for him.”

yoongi hums.

“does taehyung-ssi know about this, about these thoughts you had?”

 

jimin shakes his head frantically, sniffling.

 

“no. i never told him, i don’t want him to ever know. he- he needs someone to depend on. i have to be strong for him.”

 

yoongi watches him with an unreadable expression, breaking into a watery smile.

 

“oh, my jimin-ah. you’ve grown so much since hyung saw you, huh? you’ve become a man.” he wraps a hand around jimin and pulls him close, and jimin curls into him, allowing himself a little weakness after so many endless days of yearning for it.

 

“i’m so proud of you jimin-ah, you’ve been through so much. hyung is sorry for leaving you, hm?”

 

the crack in yoongi’s otherwise calm voice betrays the emotions underlying, and jimin takes yoongi’s larger hand in his, shaking his head simply.

 

because in the end, that’s all they can do, apologise endlessly for things that were never in their control.

 

when they part that night, long past midnight, jimin leaves with one of his old bracelets wrapped around yoongi’s wrist, a promise to meet again the next day, and a lingering kiss pressed to his hyung’s cheek.

 

-

 

they do, just like they promised, meet the next night. jimin spent the whole day quietly, not talking much, only responding when he is talked to. he doesn’t notice taehyung’s dejected expression in his excitement. he grins immediately when he sees yoongi waiting for him against the wall again that evening. it is easier for them both, easier than they expected, to act as if nothing has changed. they talk, joke, carve their initials into the wall, kiss (although that isn’t exactly something that would’ve happened before, admittedly).

 

“your hair,” jimin says during the night, dragging his fingers through the soft strands of green awedly.

“i love it.”

yoongi grins, taking the hand and pressing a kiss to its palm.

“better not let the other dauntless guys hear you say that, hm?” he taunts, and jimin ignores it, at the mint-green again.

“it’s amazing. what you’re doing, all of it. the rebellion, the green, bts, everything.”

and he means it, he really does. he would’ve joined long ago had it not been for his refusal to leave taehyung.

he loves the fact that yoongi dyed his hair green. it is a blatant disregard to the laws, to be wearing the rebels’ colours so proudly. it shows the loyalty and confidence that yoongi possesses, a brand of the rebels. jimin really shouldn’t love it as much as he does. he really shouldn’t.

 

when he leaves that night, jimin goes with a green-charmed bracelet that he tucks safely under his sleeve (courtesy of min yoongi), and a wide grin on his face.

the smile is completely wiped from his face when he comes back to his room to see a bundle curled up under the blankets on his bunk, sniffling softly.

“tae?” he calls in disbelief, and the lump under the sheets freezes, still trembling slightly. jimin lets out a sharp breath, surging forward to rip the blankets away from the bed to reveal a wide eyed taehyung with tear-stained cheeks.

“jimin-hyung,” taehyung mutters in shock, curling away from him slightly.

“taehyung.” jimin whispers. “why are you crying?”

never, in his over a year of knowing kim taehyung, has jimin ever seen him cry. not when he ranked second in final initiate assessment out of over a hundred, not when those stupid bullies from his initiation threw all his belongings in the chasm in an attempt to intimidate him, not when his parents didn’t show up to visiting day.

 

but now, here taehyung is with tears still drying on his face, eyes swollen and red.

 

“it-it’s nothing, hyung. i’m sorry, i shouldn’t be here.” he murmurs, moving to his feet and trying to shuffle past jimin. he is unsuccessful, when jimin grabs his arm and pulls him back.

 

“taehyung-ie… what happened?” he says desperately, and taehyung looks him straight in the eye.

 

“hyung.” he says softly. “are you sick of me?”

 

jimin freezes. his face goes cold, and his hands go slack.

 

“what?” he says numbly, and taehyung sniffles softly.

 

“i asked, hyung, if you’re sick of me. you know that i would leave you alone if you asked, right? i’m not forcing you to stay with me or pretend to be my friend. i don’t want pity or whatever it is that you’re-”

 

“tae...”

 

“what, hyung.”

 

“why would you ever think that?”

 

taehyung watches him with sad eyes, curling upon himself slightly.

 

“you don’t know, hyung? you think i didn’t notice the fact that you haven’t been talking to me the last few days? you’re ignoring me, completely blocking me out. when i try to talk to you, you either respond with single words or ignore me completely. you think i’m dumb, hyung? what do you take me for?”

 

jimin stares at him, a pit forming in his stomach. in his excitement, his newly-rediscovered love, he has completely neglected his best friend, his only family. he has been so caught up in his own life that he didn’t notice how much taehyung was hurting.

 

“oh, god.” he whispers.

 

“oh, no, taehyung-ie, no.”

 

he reaches forward to pull taehyung against his chest, hugging him tightly.

 

“i’m sorry, taehyung, i really am. i didn’t mean to treat you like that, i didn’t even know that i was— , taehyung, i’m sorry!”

 

taehyung relaxes in his grip, falling against him tiredly.

 

“i thought-” he whispers against jimin’s shoulder, voice shaking with tears.

 

“i thought you hated me..”

 

jimin bites back the tears welling at the back of his eyes, pressing the younger boy tighter to his chest. he had always thought he could be strong for taehyung, when he just ended up being the one to hurt him.

 

“never, taehyung-ie.” he says softly.

 

“i would never, ever hate you. remember that, okay?”

 

taehyung takes a deep breath, tightening his grip around jimin. it has been a while since they talked, hugged, spoke like this. jimin hadn’t realised how much he misses it.

 

“sorry, hyung. i overreacted. you have your own life to worry about too.” he mutters sheepishly, and jimin chuckles, ruffling his hair.

 

“no, it’s honestly my fault. i was being dumb... say, taehyung-ie, i wanna take you to meet someone tomorrow. is that okay?”

 

taehyung blinks up at him.

 

“who? is it the person who’s made you so distracted?” he asks curiously, and jimin blushes.

 

“yeah. yeah, it’s them.”

 

“okay.”

 

-

a/n; sorry about the formatting issues (with it all being lowercase), i was having problems with my laptop and since then i haven't had the time to go through and fix it