Love Perfect

The worst thing about denying that you have a problem wasn't the denial itself.

It was the fact that it wasn't always so bad.

There were moments in which everything was almost normal, going according to plan, devoid of any stupid inconvenience along the way--moments when you are in control.

The car window is lowered, a light breeze is entering the passenger seat and is gently ruffling your hair. A panoramic view of the horizon unravels in front of you, black-framed shades shielding your eyes from the warm September sun.

You sit there, sinking down into the seat with one hand on the wheel while the other rests lazily on the gearbox. You feel like everything is as it should be.

It's a good sensation, so sweet and reassuring that you start to think that whatever happened to you in the past was just imagined, a glitch of your worrywart mind, and it would never come back because you are fine now. You are fantastic.

After all, you've been a pretty awesome adult up until now.

The worst thing about having a problem and denying it was that good days were enough to justify the lies you keep telling to yourself, enough to make you believe the bad days never happened. But sadly the good days never last.

Jeon Jungkook was 25 when he graduated university. He lived in the suburbs spending his days job hunting. He was the youngest son in a family of four. They'd never been rich, and that forced Jungkook to learn how to operate in the real world worked. He felt grateful to his parents for the life they had given him despite their struggle. They had built his childhood home from the ground up. Growing up, Jungkook had two close friends who he would never exchange for anything in the world, and he owned a cat that he had taken in his first year of college and that had kept him company when he felt homesick.

Around town, Jungkook was known as the good kid. He never got into fights or got irredeemably drunk, he had only smoked twice and hated it. He was the type that always scored the most goals in soccer, passed his driving exam on the first try, outsang the whole bar at karaoke, and seemed to be blessed by the rock paper scissors gods to the point of winning every single game. Being just good enough at almost everything, he was that person people couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit jealous of.

Yes, Jeon Jungkook was the guy who had always been seemingly perfect. But Jeon Jungkook was the man who at the moment clutched his steering wheel like his life depended on it. It’s funny how life has a way of turning tables, erasing all the good in a good person and transforming into a twisted version of your confident self.

Jungkook’s hands were clammy and warm. He had wiped them on his pants several times but it hadn't really worked because one, every time he let go of the steering wheel to wipe them, a wave of panic washed over him; and two, they’d just become sweaty all over again.

He felt more like an inexperienced navigator trying to keep control of the rudder of a ship in the middle of a storm than someone who was driving down the straightest road to the next city.

You are a completely rational person , Jungkook mentally scolded himself. You started driving at sixteen on your uncle's old pickup. Whatever fear you might feel is just a stupid trick of your mind, the traffic is minimal, there no trucks or bikes on the road, these are perfect weather conditions. There's really nothing that could be considered dangerous.

Nothing,

...except for yourself.

It hit him then. He became aware of how his limbs were aching as he was hunched over the steering wheel almost folded in on himself. His knuckles hurt from his tight grip but he still felt like the wheel could slip from his grasp at any moment, resulting in either crashing into another car or crashing into the guardrail.

This can't be happening to me , Jungkook desperately thought as he tore his teeth into his bottom lip. He only had to endure this for another ten kilometers. What was ten kilometers of a straight shot up the road with little traffic? Barely over ten minutes? He could do this, and once he reached his destination, he could forget this happened. He had a job interview to get to goddammit. He couldn't allow himself to succumb to this, whatever ‘this’ was.

He could endure it.

A little while longer, just another kilometer, another minute. A minute was only sixty seconds. Ten minutes in a day was equivalent to nothing.

He squinted his eyes in concentration, trying to desperately ignore the drowning fear that was consuming him from the inside.

He could do it. He definitely could.

Jungkook took in his surroundings. This was the only road that led to where he needed to go. There was a river that cut through the fields and, above it, a high bridge.

A bridge .

He was one hundred percent sure he was going to die. As soon as his car passed over that bridge, he would lose control of it, and go crashing down. The road was narrow and with no emergency lane, the closest place to a resting area was after the bridge and he couldn't do a u-turn.

I am going to die, the voice in his head insisted.

The last remnants of logic kept fighting though. He approached the bridge, maintaining a steady speed, even when his instincts were screaming at him to just stop the car, get out and run. He watched in the rear view mirror as another car drove up behind him. He had to keep driving no matter what, drive over the bridge and die.

Jungkook tried to keep his eyes wide open and sped up in hopes to shorten that part of the trip and reach the resting area.

The drive over the bridge seemed to never ing end until it finally did. Jungkook’s vision began to blur as he felt like he was going to pass out from the sheer panic.

As soon as he exited the bridge, he pulled over and parked his car. His legs felt stiff and heavy, and sweat drenched his back. The driver behind him honked, but Jungkook couldn't care less. In his defense, he had his turning signal despite the panic that even moving his hand sent through him.

He pulled the handbrake and turned off the engine. Only then did he manage to relax.

He let out a long sigh as his fingers finally loosened their painful grip on the steering wheel. He pushed the seat back and stretched out his legs to get comfortable. He noticed his hands trembling as he wiped them on his pants for the umpteenth time that day.

Dear lord .

He was pathetic.

He was an adult, jobless and still living with his parents, yes, but he had experienced life and he was plenty capable of taking care of himself. He was a man and as much and it sounded like the usual ist rhetoric, there was no way in hell that him, a young man, should have such a fear of driving.

He told himself that it was momentary, just a short phased because of all the pressure. Once he found a job and became stable, everything would be alright again. Actually, it didn’t even need to be that drastic, he was sure that on his way back this would all turn into a forgettable memory.

He let himself slide down in the seat. His sweat was drying and his muscles were finally loosening up. Yet, he still felt shaken up. If he wanted to make his interview on time, he desperately needed to relax. And possibly convinced his heart beat to slow down.

He looked around to distract himself and calm down. The place felt familiar and he remembered how he had stopped there a couple of other times before when he happened to feel a bit overwhelmed. During those times he had always been in difficult situations. One time it rained so heavily he couldn't see properly. Another time he had been upset on the ride over, so, much like now, he had to stop to calm himself.

Everyone had a little meltdown every now and again and nobody made a fuss out of it, Jungkook thought. He needed to get back to normal as soon as possible, starting with getting his heart rate to slow down.

His eyes wandered around, not looking for anything particular. But perhaps it was his subconscious at work.

Terraced houses lined the road, narrow strips of plantlife served as a buffer between the houses and the street.

Inside one of the houses, behind a thin curtain, stood a young man with pitch black hair and plump lips. He watched Jungkook closely, and the moment their eyes locked, Jungkook recognized him.

After all in their town everyone knew Park Jimin's story if not for having attended school with him, because of word of mouth, when the nasty rumors that had spread around from teens to the adults. Jungkook had attended the same school as Jimin but they hadn't known each other back then. So Jungkook memory of Jimin's face was tangible yet somehow inaccurate. It was the long, ugly scar that had ruined the tender skin of Jimin’s cheekbone, what made him sure it was him.

Jungkook looked away as humiliation washed over him.

He would have felt mortified to be seen in that shameful state by anyone, but being seen by Park Jimin - the crazy drug addicted - was inconceivable.

His gaze then immediately fell onto the digital clock on the dashboard. As much as he could use this extra time to regroup, he refused to stay there any longer.

He sat back up in his seat, took a deep breath, and drove back onto the road.

There was only nine kilometers to go, nine more minutes until he reached his destination.

He arrived seven minutes early, even with his little detour. He parked behind the building and checked his appearance in the rear view mirror. By some miracle, he still looked almost as good as when he left home. With a sigh of relief, he got out the car and walked up to the building the building.

The job interview was like any other, the same recycled questions about his past experience and the aspirations he had after having successfully achieved his degree. He was always shocked by his ability to tell elaborate lies in the form of reasonable answers in order to make himself look better than what he would ever be.

He didn't choose to go into economics because he found it interesting but because he found it safe. There wasn’t reality where his job would coincide with his dream. Painting was for the artists of the Paris of 800, not for a young man of the 21st century that had real responsibilities. Still, he found it in himself to plaster on a fake smile at the end of the interview and he shake hands with the interviewers. With that sense of uncertainty that hung around him after every interview, he hurried back to his car.

The drive back home was a smooth one, like it was supposed to be. He even opened some of the buttons of his shirt, barely hanging on to the steering wheel, and enjoyed the ride. He even tackled the challenge of the bridge effortlessly--aside from fuzzy sensation brewing in his stomach, that is.

It was easy to repress the memories of his earlier episode of panic. The we he saw it, it was momentary and would never happen again.

There was nothing wrong with him. Nothing.

Several hours later at Jungkook’s favorite pub in the town center, Jungkook sat at the bar with a cold beer in front of him. He felt at ease for the first time today. There’s something about meeting with childhood friends after such a long time that always manages to lift Jungkook’s mood and distract him from whatever problem that crossed his mind.

Jungkook liked to think of his friends as a small gang of wanderer-weirdos.

“Do you think that if I drink a lot of beer and pass out I’ll be able to completely erase my worries,” Jungkook asked half-joking half-serious.

He hadn't always been a drinker of beer, he prefered harder spirits. But his friends had work the day after, and Jungkook would have felt like an alcoholic if he had have been the only one ordering hard liquor.

Namjoon shook his head, taking a sip of his beer. “Don't,” Namjoon said, “I’ve tried. It never works.” He was still on his first beer, savoring it like it was the only good thing he was allowed to have that week.

“C'mon guys, of course alcohol is not the answer,” Hoseok said. Both Jungkook and Namjoon looked at Hoseok unimpressed.

“Only a lightweight would say that,” Jungkook said, pointing at Hoseok’s lemon water.

Hoseok glared at them, picking up his glass and gulping it down. “Fine, be destructive. Live an unhealthy lifestyle. Watch me have a wonderful baby face when you get all wrinkled before 30,” he said.

“We can't stop the contingency of the passage of time Jung Hoseok, we are ashes and dust. Ashes and dust. Like the good old Oratio said, nunc est bibendum.* Listen to the ancient poets, be wise, elevate yourself,” Namjoon said. Hoseok groaned in annoyance, hiding his face behind his glass while Jungkook burst out in laughter.

He loved his friends even just for things like that. Considering the age difference between Jungkook and his actual older brother, he had been happy to rely on friends almost his age and was convinced that without Hoseok and Namjoon his life would have been a lot different.

They had known each other since Jungkook was five and his Namjoon and Hoseok were seven. Hoseok in particular was Jungkook’s neighbor and had taken a then very shy Jungkook under his wing. And now, here they are, so many years later, toasting over their lives that were now so different from what they had imagined as kids.

Namjoon had a well paid but stressful job in the next town over. He was the smartest of the three, and could have easily left their small hometown to become someone important in the big city. But he fell in love and he had deemed his relationship far more important than whatever career he could have had.

But Jungkook knew Namjoon still burned with hunger and ambition. Sometimes, when Namjoon’s days at work were more demanding than usual, it was hard to remember all the good reasons for staying. Jungkook called this meeting to help take the load off Namjoon’s shoulders instead of taking his bad mood home.

Hoseok was the opposite of Namjoon. He was single, hadn’t been in love since his ex-boyfriend cheated on him and broke his heart, and had decided then to embrace his free lifestyle. He had a very flexible job as a dancer for an entertainment company that took him out of town, and sometimes out of the country, for long periods of time, thus making it hard to meet up with him most of the time.

Jungkook envied the both of them--Namjoon for having found the love of his life and Hoseok for pursuing his dream despite the difficulties. That was why lately he had found excuses to not talk to them and dodge the questions about his life. His feelings of inadequacy were sometimes so overwhelming it felt as if they’d swallow him whole. Yet Namjoon and Hoseok were his best friends and he loved them. He had the holy duty to be a good friend, to be happy instead of envious.

“Dude you aren’t even drunk, you can't get Namjoonic on a Wednesday night!” Hoseok whined.

Namjoon glared. “How many times do I have to tell you that my name can't be used as an adjective?”

“Aren't you honored? You could end up in an encyclopedia, be the founder of a new philosophical movement in the modern age: the Namjoonism,” Hoseok said, mocking Namjoon’s ‘inspired’ tone that he uses when he goes all philosophical.

Jungkook almost choked on his last sip of beer.

Hoseok patted his back, “There, there Jungkook, you can't die here. Especially not before taking credit for having birthed the word,” Hoseok said, patting with more vigor.

“Hyung!” Jungkook shrieked in horror. Namjoon hadn’t a clue that it was Jungkook who came up with the word.

Shock colored Namjoon’s face. “Tu quoque Brute fili mi,” ** he exclaimed, sounding deeply betrayed.

And that was the cue for Jungkook to leave that table of nonsense.

“Where are you going? Come here,” Hoseok shouted, laughing.

“Getting another round and away from you...traitor,” Jungkook said.

“You better bring back fries if you want to be forgiven Brutus," Namjoon said. Jungkook shook his hand dismissively.

Of course he was going to bring back some fries. Namjoon could get sensitive sometimes and despite knowing they were only teasing and meant no harm, Jungkook didn't want to risk upsetting him.

Jungkook walked toward the counter, mostly empty aside from some regular who preferred to drink at the bar than to get a table.

Jungkook leaned against the counter, trying to get the attention of the bartender. The bartender saw him with the corner of his eye and nodded like reassuring Jungkook he had noticed him. Jungkook smiled, drumming his fingers on the polished wood. His eyes glanced at down the counter, landing on a familiar profile.

Park Jimin.

Jimin sat down at the end of the bar, talking very loudly with another man who had been laughing at something Jimin said. Jimin brought a glass to his lips, it looked to be a simple coke he sipped.

“Sir, do you wanted to order?” A voice came from the other side of the counter. A little startled, Jungkook tore his gaze away from Jimin. He ordered another beer and the fries for Namjoon and scurried away before sparring another glance at Jimin.

As he returned to the table, Hoseok was telling Namjoon about the difficulties he had with his dance crew during his last tour.

“I swear they are great guys but I don't care if we are only backup dancers. We have to always put our best effort. We are professionals, goddammit.”

“Preach!” Jungkook said as he flopped down by Hoseok's side. “Before you ask, Namjoon hyung, your fries are coming. And Hoseok, not everyone shares your high work ethic, you are one of kind.”

Hoseok sighed. “I’m not so special. I just appreciate what I have. Being able to dance and making a living from it, that's a privilege.”

“That you've worked hard for, you should be proud,” Namjoon said.

“I am,” Hoseok said, blushing. Hoseok never gave himself enough credit.

Jungkook let his eyes wander again, trying to distract himself from the ache in his chest--the last remnants of a withered dream. There was a time he too had wanted to try to pursue art.

“Hyung what do you know about Park Jimin?” He asked all of a sudden, taking a big swig of his beer to hide his embarrassment as his gaze for some reason had landed once again on the above mentioned man. Jungkook didn't know what exactly made him ask that.

“What do you mean what do I know,” Hoseok asked, a bit puzzled.

“Well yeah, we were talking about dancing and I thought about the old times, and since he’s here and all it kind of made me curious,” Jungkook said. It sounded like a poor excuse even to his own ears.

“Oh, is he?” Namjoon asked as he turned around to look for Jimin. Hoseok slapped him on his nape.

“Stop using that tone," Hoseok said.

“Which tone? Actually, I had an interesting talk with someone at the library about Nietzsche a couple of weeks ago and I later found out that young man was Park Jimin. So maybe I should say hi? Or maybe not, we never exchanged names. Such a shame,” Namjoon said.

“You read Nietzsche,” asked Hoseok first.

“You talked with him,” asked Jungkook.

Then the bubbly waiter came up to their table.

“Your fries,” he said.

Namjoon smiled showing his dimples as if the presence of food had completely erased any other thought in his mind.

“If you are asking me this because of those past rumours Jungkook, let me tell you that I thought you of all people would know better,” Hoseok said.

Hoseok had hit a nerve. Jungkook felt guilty. He couldn’t deny that a lot of his interest in Jimin stemmed from the rumors of his past.

“I was just curious, hyung. Nevermind,” Jungkook replied.

“He is a good guy anyway. At least the person I used to know was a good guy. Even though he might have had some problems I hate to think he changed because of them.” Hoseok said.

Jungkook decided it was better he kept his mouth shut, humming quietly. He’d much rather enjoy his night.

Yet not even half an hour later he looked over at the bar again and was disappointed to find Park Jimin no longer there.

You’ve gotta be kidding me , Jungkook thought when the first wave of discomfort shot through him.

It had gone away, he told himself, it had been a week since the last episode and since then he had driven without any problem. So why was it happening now?

Yet in spite of his best efforts to avoid the truth, he couldn't ignore the anxiety within him as the first few drops of rain hit the car window.

It felt like his grip on the steering wheel wasn't tight enough to get a handle on it. No matter how many times Jungkook told himself how unlikely it was for disaster to occur, his irrational mind wasn’t convinced. The more drops of rain hit the window, the more that terror he felt.

He knew he was in danger, that as soon as his brain would have lost the battle against the irrationality, that thought would cement in him and he would lose his mind.  His grip was so tight on the wheel his knuckles hurt. He was driving down that same road again, passing over that same bridge and there was nowhere he could stop to calm himself.

His body ran cold.

Don't close your eyes, don't you ing dare to close your eyes, you are driving, you pathetic pile of trash.

He had a vague idea of why this always happens to him--in those moments when he actually admits his problem. It goes back to that day, months ago, when he’d almost had a car accident.

He was angry that day but that anger only existed to hide his sadness, and he was driving too fast through the rain. Water had accumulated around his tires, he had lost control and the car went water planing.

He remembered the feeling of losing the control of the vehicle. He wasn’t hurt and the car didn’t wreck, only a few seconds of fear rattling him up, but somehow, that loss of control had become a metaphor for every time he had felt helpless later on.

Just thinking about it was too much. He didn’t need that right now, it only sent him closer to a panic attack.

The bridge wasn't going to be his end, he told himself as he did his best to not look down, to not let his gaze to focus on the river that ran under it.

After what seemed like an eternity, he finally crossed the bridge and parked the car in his usual spot. He pulled the handbrake and switched off the engine, before collapsing onto the steering wheel. He was gasping for air, after having held his breath for so long without even noticing.

Why is this happening to me? Jungkook thought as he desperately tried to fight his mental breakdown. He wasn't allowed to give in, he still had so much to do, so much to fix in his life.

Then someone started knocking on his window. Startled, he banged his forehead against the horn, grimacing. He turned toward the window, and outside stood a soaking wet wet Jimin. Jungkook’s eyes darted around. He had been in such a panic, he had forgotten Jimin lived just across the street from here. Jungkook groaned internally. He lowered his window, taking in Jimin’s soft features which contrasted with his prominent scar.

“Hey, are you alright,” Jimin asked. His voice sounded loud, even with the windshield wipers wooshing rain over off of the front window. Jungkook found Jimin’s voice pleasant, even when the attention was unwelcomed.

“Fantastic,” Jungkook said, sarcastically.

Embarrassed, he avoided eye contact with Jimin and his gaze somehow landed on the mirror. He was so pale he looked like a ghost.

“You don't look so well, do you want to come into my place and rest?” Jimin asked.

Jungkook felt even more annoyed. He didn't need Jimin to acknowledge his weakness, he needed to get out of there as soon as possible.

“No thanks. I'll be heading out now, sorry for blocking your entryway,” Jungkook replied. He straightened up in his seat, but when his fingers gripped the keys he couldn't bring himself to actually turn the key in the ignition and his hands were trembling.

“It's really not a problem. Come with me, I swear I don't bite,” Jimin said, like he was tiptoeing around Jungkook. Jungkook looked at him out the corner of his eye, suspicious of his motive.

Who was he to Jimin but a paranoid a stranger that ended up parked near his house?

Jungkook looked back over at Jimin. He noticed how wet the Jimin’s fringe was and for some strange reason, that was what ultimately convinced him to trust Jimin. Maybe this was just a charity case for Jimin but as annoying as that would be, Jungkook felt like Jimin’s concern wasn't fake.

He stepped out of his car cautiously, as if he expected the ground beneath his feet to sink. Jimin had already started walking up to his front door, and Jungkook followed close behind. Up ahead, Jimin struggled with the deadbolt, and for a moment Jungkook wondered if he should take advantage of that distraction and escape. But his heavy legs kept him glued to his spot.

Hoseok had said Jimin was a good person, didn't he?

Jimin finally got the door open. He stepped inside and removed his wet shoes. He didn’t wait for Jungkook in the doorway, but went straight into the house, almost like giving him a chance to leave if he wanted.

That simple gesture made Jungkook’s weariness melt away. He removed his shoes and closed the door. He shivered and tried to warm up and regain his composure before taking in his surroundings.

He hadn’t expected such a homey and clean house. There was even a fluffy red carpet in the entrance that covered most of the floor that led from the corridor to the living room. He felt awestruck for a moment by the beauty of the photographs hung on the walls and as he ambled further into the room, admiring them.

“Tea or coffee?” came the faint voice of Jimin from somewhere inside the house, just when Jungkook had stopped in front of a breathtaking big picture of a bridge that cut the horizon and was bathed in the sunset light. Jungkook turned in the direction from where the voice was coming, unsure if follow it or not. A few muffled steps echoed in the corridor and then Park Jimin's head appeared in the living room.

“Tea or coffee,” Jimin asked. His fringe was still a bit wet but he was no longer dripping, and had put on a dry white t-shirt.

“Tea?” Jungkook replied.

This felt too much out of his comfort zone. Jungkook didn't accept strangers’ invitations and neither did he have weak moments, yet here he was.

“Good. We can drink it together,” Jimin said rocking timidly back and forth on his place before retreating. It wasn't exactly an invitation but Jungkook took the leap and followed Jimin to the kitchen.

The kitchen was very small compared to the living room but everything was neatly organized onto the shelves--every inch of which were covered with spices and oils.

This version of Jimin was someone of many hobbies, clean and kind--far from the dirty image people had painted of him. That is, unless he was hiding some under the sink.

Jimin turned toward Jungkook a bit, but not fully facing him, as he filled the boiler with water.

“I'm sorry I didn't formally introduce myself ...Though I bet you already know who I am. This town is so small,” he said, half chuckling as he plugged up the kettle. He scratched the skin under his scar in what looked like a nervous tick.

“I'm Park Jimin, but you are in my kitchen so feel free to call me by my first name,” he said, turning completely to face Jungkook and attempting to smile again. Jungkook arched a brow. He didn’t understanding why Jimin was acting with such familiarity with someone he just met. Jimin quickly added, “You’re Jeon Jungkook, aren't you?”

That caught Jungkook off guard.

“Yes. How do you know?” Jungkook said. Jimin's smile turned mischievous.

Jimin was the infamous one here. Whereas Jungkook had always been a goody two shoes who hardly ever stepped out of line and who, even during his school days, was far from being considered popular.

“I vaguely remember you from school, but even then I only knew of you because Hoseok mentioned you quite often. Plus, I work at your uncle's garage.”

“Ah,” Jungkook so eloquently replied as he tied together the threads. He remembered his father mentioning how business had been booming at his uncle’s garage, so much so that he had to hire a couple of new employees. “I wouldn't have pegged you as a mechanic,” Jungkook said.

Damn this was so awkward. But Jimin only burst into laughter.

“Me neither. But I found out I have the talent to understand those things. And I enjoy working with my hands, it relaxes me.”

“I can understand that. I like working with my hands too,” Jungkook said even though had been so long since he last picked up a paintbrush.

The loud keening of the kettle interrupted their small talk. Jimin turned to serve the tea as Jungkook slumped down into the chair, tired.

Jimin asked him which type of tea he preferred and talked about nothing important. He seemed so unbothered by Jungkook’s silence. Jungkook took the cup of tea into his hands, murmuring a small thank you as he blew on it to cool it down.

It was hard to imagine that the person standing in front of him had been involved in even half the things people claimed. But then again, nobody would have ever suspected a kid like Jungkook to have deep-seated issues with anxiety. A cover really couldn't tell you much about the book.

An image crossed his mind, a young Jimin in his school uniform, sat under the stands in the football field, alternating drags of a cigarette and sips from a flask. Jungkook had been only fifteen then and Jimin seventeen. Jimin had already been labeled a thug.

“Thank you for your tea,” Jungkook said, interrupting Jimin mid-sentence.

“I'm glad you liked it,” Jimin said, taken aback by the abrupt shift in mood. Jimin had been talking about his newfound passion for cooking. It was weird because somehow Jungkook knew everything about Jimin--how he had defied his parents during his rebellious phase in high school, then how he had broken their hearts in college when he had wasted their money on his hellhole of a drug addiction.

According to the rumors, he was so mentally unstable that even his army generals didn't know what to do with him. Instead of completing his service, he was held in a mental facility. They said his scar was self-inflicted they said, they said…

Jungkook stood up, the chair scratching against the floor.

“If you feel like you need to stop when you’re driving, feel free to park there. And if you feel like wanting some tea also feel free to knock on my door, I don't mind company,” Jimin said, clearly trying to sound more casual than concerned.

Why was Jimin doing this? Who was Jungkook to him besides a freak who had had a nervous breakdown in front of his house?

Jungkook was burning in embarrassment and shame--shame for having an ill opinion toward someone who had opened their home to him, embarrassment for being pathetic. So pathetic that even an ex-drug addict took pity on him, so pathetic that he was spitting on the other man's kindness.

Jungkook nodded weakly, before dragging himself out of there.

When he made it back to his car, he drove back home. When arrived, he just sat there in his car for awhile before convincing himself go in.

He felt weird and awful for the rest of the evening, but at least his anxiety had been placated for now. He wished with all his might for this to be the last time that it reared its ugly head.

Several days later, after the near-anxiety attack Jungkook had once again labeled as a mere ‘disturbance’, a sense of dread sank into his stomach every time that day crossed his mind. He had been so rude and judgmental toward Jimin. It didn’t matter that they strangers and that Jungkook didn’t owe Jimin anything, he still should have been kind.

Really, he actually owned Jimin a lot more than that. And coming to terms with this was one thing, to actually act on those sentiments was the another.

It wasn't like he hadn’t had the opportunity to apologize to Jimin, especially since Jungkook had seen him at the supermarket, then again at the bar with Namjoon and several on other occasions too. Each time, Jungkook simply walked in the opposite direction or acted like he hadn't noticed Jimin.

That afternoon, when he went to the library looking for a book that Namjoon recommended, Jungkook saw Jimin again. This time, he decided to approach him.

Careful to not be noticed, Jungkook and walked behind the closest shelf, pretending to be look for his book. Jimin was a couple of steps away from him, looking through a large box filled to the brim with secondhand books. He looked good, wearing faded blue jeans and a leather jacket that made him look more boyish and less intimidating.

“So did you really read Nietzsche,” Jungkook asked a bit too loud.

Jimin turned around, eyes probing. His immediately relaxed when he realized it was only Jungkook.

“Hello to you too,” he replied cheekily.

“Yes. Hi. I saw you and I thought to come and say hi. Since, you know, I'm here to buy a book too, one that my friend had been asking me to read for quite some time, even though he knows reading is not really my thing. He also told me he discussed Nietzsche with you and that's why I asked you. By the way, you impressed him, and let me tell you that's not easy,” Jungkook said, cringing internally at his own awkwardness.

Jimin's hands stopped moving. He looked as if he were trying to process the river of words Jungkook just threw at him. He turned towards Jungkook, lips pursed in deep concentration.

Then, he snapped his