There were four lies Jimin told that involved Minjeong.

or, part two of all the secrets I'm supposed to keep

or, the unending pining of two best friends.

//

There were four lies you've told that involved your best friend.

//

It doesn’t hurt.

You were thirteen, Minjeong was twelve. 

Cast on your left foot. Cast on the right arm of your best friend. You bought this set of glow-in-the-dark stars and you've asked Minjeong to help you set it up. You carried the ladder from the garage with your tiny hands. You've always wanted the Cygnus constellation above your bed. The next thing you know, Minjeong’s up on the ladder and you're looking up. 

You got distracted.

(You blamed her body just starting to hit puberty because that —)

A few incorrect constellations later, you were both in the ER with broken bones and wincing cheeks. Your father getting all I told you just to wait for me to set it up Jimin! Minjeong making all the funny faces behind without him knowing. You would have burst out laughing and would have been into further trouble if it wasn’t for that doctor who got your father’s attention. 

"Does it hurt?" She asked you, touching your cheeks softly.

"It doesn’t hurt". You shrugged, blushing. 

You lied, but at the same time, with Minjeong's hand on your cheeks, the pain started to go away.

// 

I promise I’ll tell you who she is Minjeongie.

You can’t. 

Because how would you tell someone you grew up with that you don’t see her as that little kid who you used to watch Barney with? How are you going to tell someone you grew up with that every time she sings I love you, you love me, we're a happy family you’re thinking maybe, just maybe, you can be more than what she lets you be?

How do you tell someone you grew up with that whatever you had before has changed, and that all those hugs you shared are no longer platonic? That all those cheek kisses are no longer without malice, and that everything has changed between the two of you, but at the same time, it hasn't?

That you want to keep cuddling with her, that you want to finally sing the songs you wrote for her, that you finally want to read the poems you’ve made for her? 

How do you tell her that you want to kiss her lips hard?