Summary: Jungkook goes to get a glass of water, and returns to his dorm more refreshed than he expected.

            We were all deadbeat exhausted.

            The week had consisted of nothing but concerts and variety show guest appearances, interviews and fansigns. We caught up on sleep in the waiting room and in the van between venues, and eventually we would find ourselves struggling to open our eyes after merely blinking.

So when the just-as-tired manager announced a small break between schedules to catch up on sleep, we all staggered towards our dorms like zombies and collapsed into insta-sleep on our beds.

Except for one person, that is.

            I was woken in the middle of the night, surrounded by that eerie yet comforting silence when everyone else around you is asleep, by this strange parched thirst in my throat, so dry and overwhelming that it actually hurt to swallow. I realized that I hadn’t drunk anything after our intense dance practice, having forgotten to bring a water bottle to the dance studio, and instantly regretted having done so.

            Stumbling around, my eyes struggling to adjust to the dark, I slid out of bed and tiptoed across the floor (although I didn’t need to, Namjoon’s snoring was enough to mask any sound I made) before quietly slipping through the door to the other side.

            Before I go any further, I should probably explain the need for me to go to the kitchen in search of water. The dorm I shared with Namjoon hyung was full of water bottles, sure, but they were all his, and no matter how strong the thirst, I wasn’t very keen on exchanging saliva with anyone who wasn’t my family member.

            And besides, I needed clear, cold water and those water bottles had probably been sitting there for weeks.

--

            Wiping my mouth in satisfaction, I turned the kitchen light off and started making my way back towards the dorm to go back to sleep before I heard faint music drifting down the hallway from the dance studio.

            Who the hell is still practicing at this hour?

            Padding my way down to the source of the music, I pressed my face against the glass of the closed door and observed the sweaty, painfully exhausted-looking person dancing himself to death in the mirrored confines of the dance studio.

            “Park Jimin, you pabo, what do you think you’re doing?” I muttered to myself, turning the doorknob without second thought and swinging the door open.

Marching straight towards the stereo, I switched it off in one fluid move, plunging the room into silence. I barely registered the click of the door closing as I spun around on my heel, planted my hands on my hips and glared at the glowering figure before me.

            “What the hell?” we both asked in unison.

            “Hyung, what are you doing? You need to get some sleep!” I scolded, taking a deep breath and preparing to give Jimin some serious BS about the benefits of sleep and the consequences of staying up for so long before I realized that his eyes were misted over.

            “Oh my God, Jimin hyung, what’s wrong?” I asked, my voice and heart instantly softening as he visibly slouched over in front of me. Quickly closing the gap between us, I placed one hand on either of his shoulders and rested my forehead against his, ignoring the sweat that now dampened my hair.

            “Nothing’s wrong,” he snapped suddenly, twisting out of my grasp and briskly walking towards the stereo before turning it back on. Our newest song pulsed through the walls of the studio.

            I frowned in concern. This wasn’t the Jimin hyung I knew. The Jimin I knew was clingy and annoying sure, but also charming, patient, and carefree. He had a nice sense of humor and was a great listener.

            This Jimin? He was a complete stranger to me.

            As I watched, unable to move for some reason, the stranger resumed one of the most energy-consuming choreos I’ve ever done, exhaustion dragging his limbs down from the perfect angles we practiced countless times to nail perfectly and causing him to crash to the floor in a way that made my heart wrench in worry.

            My feet finally breaking free from the frozen state they were in, I rushed to his side, falling to my knees before him and gathering his shaking body against me.

            “Stop,” I pleaded. “Please, hyung, stop. You’re hurting yourself.”

            And that was what was needed to break the dam and let the emotion pour through.

            Jimin dissolved into tears in my arms, clutching weakly at the fabric of my shirt and losing strength so suddenly that I dropped against the wall in surprise.

            “I just can’t get it right…” he sobbed against my shoulder, his entire frame shaking with pent-up emotion. “I can’t get anything right…”

            “Stop it,” I repeated, rubbing circles into his back in a way that I hoped would comfort him. “Don’t do this to yourself.”

            “Why not?” he murmured, more to himself than to me. “Why not?”

            “Park Jimin,” I said, dropping the honorifics to get my point across. Shifting so I could look him straight in his red, teary eyes, I cupped his face with my hands. “What do you want me to do to make you believe?”

            “I don’t know.” He laughed weakly. “I don’t know.”

            So I started singing.

            “When I see your face,” I sang.

            “Oh, no,” he groaned, burying his face into my shoulder. “Don’t do this to me.”

            I ignored him. “There’s not one thing I want to change, ‘cause you’re amazing, just the way you are.”

            “Oh my God Jungkook, this is so cheesy,” Jimin complained, his voice muffled by my shirt.

            The relief that flooded me at the realization that the Jimin hyung I knew and loved was back was so overwhelming that my eyes actually started misting over.

            “Thanks,” I huffed, turning away so he wouldn’t see me cry. “Now I’m crying.”

            He pulled away to look at me quizzically, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Why?”

            “Because,” I tilted my head back and sniffled a bit before meeting his eyes again, “my God, Jimin hyung, I’m so glad you’re okay now.”

            He grinned that full smile that made his eyes disappear and warmed my heart. “Wow. You really do care about me a lot, huh?”

            “Shut up,” I snapped, wiping at my eyes.

            “Aw, Jungkookie,” Jimin cooed, shifting his position so that he was on his hands and knees over me. Brushing my hair out of my eyes, he smiled even wider and bit his lip.  I was overcome by the sudden and powerful urge to kiss him.

            Wait. What?

            “Hyung,” I mumbled, feeling my face flush red, “our position is so wrong right now.”

            “Hm?” he pulled away (thank God) to confirm my statement. His eyes widened at the way we were placed, with my shoulders against the wall and my legs sprawled out in front of me, him caging me in on all fours. In a hurry to get off me, he ended up falling clumsily onto the floor beside me before pushing himself up to a seated position against the wall, embarrassed. I giggled at how cute he looked, his cheeks pink and his hair sticking out everywhere.

            He huffed. “Don’t laugh at me.”

            “Sorry,” I chuckled. “Anyways, let’s get you back to the dorms now. I can’t believe Hoseok hyung and Taehyung hyung didn’t notice you were gone.”

            “I told them I’d stay back a bit longer,” he defended, getting to his feet and reaching out a hand to pull me up. I took it, and he yanked me to my feet swiftly and smoothly.

            And then we were standing one inch apart.

            The tension in the air crackled between us as I met Jimin’s suddenly intense gaze, eyes burning bright with emotions I was terrified of identifying. His breath fanned across my lips, and I was suddenly fully aware of him, of me, of our closeness. I was uncomfortable, not only with our proximity but with the way he was looking at me.

            The tension grew thick enough to chew, and I decided it would be best if one of us broke it.

“Jimin?” I murmured. Me saying his name alone lit a fire in his eyes, and I swallowed unconsciously.

“Hm?” Jimin made a humming sound in the back of his throat.

“You’re short.”

Giggling, I paused one second to watch him splutter at the bomb I just dropped before bolting out of the studio.

“Wha- YAH! JEON JUNGKOOK! GET BACK HERE! WHAT DID YOU SAY?!” he shrieked, breaking into a run after one beat of silence.

I threw my head back and cackled, quickly dashing out of the room and into the hall.

“Aish, you little…” he muttered behind me, slowing down and shaking his head disapprovingly.

I grinned to myself as I ran away, unaware of the warm and grateful smile that lit up Jimin’s face as he watched me disappear into my dorm.

((A/N: I don’t even know what the hell I just wrote…))