Tell Me About Yourself
Jikook ScenariosA/N: This one is actually from my other BTS request fanfic. It's not that fluffy, I just felt like re-uploading it because it's personally one of the best things I've ever written. Enjoy!
Summary: Jungkook helps fix Jimin's life at the cost of one regular customer.
"Tell me about yourself."
A startled, drunken pair of eyes flickered upwards to meet another. The cute bartender at the pub Jimin frequented had become a regular appearance in his life lately; Jimin would be lying if he said he didn't think much about him. Apart from a few seconds ago, he'd only spoken to Jimin twice, once as a greeting when Jimin was a new customer and once when Jimin ingested a bit too much beer and vomited all over his freshly ironed shirt.
Having a habit of drinking excessively in a short amount of time, Jimin was prone to accidentally spilling his innermost thoughts in sporadic, hysterical outbursts, and being the only one around who was sober enough to fully process his stumbling words, the bartender knew corners of his mind that remained hidden even to his family. On the other hand, Jimin knew next to nothing about the youngster behind the counter.
Every Tuesday, he managed to escape his woefully boring job and arrive amidst traffic to a dim-lighted building, name displayed in faded letters above the main entrance. Although he didn't admit it, there was something strangely comforting in drowning his worries with a glass of beer and a pair of semi-concerned eyes watching his every move.
Jimin was pretty sure he'd outlasted most regulars at the pub. He seemed to have an inability for finding a way to fix his multiple issues except when there was a drink in his hand.
"A-about what?" If his aim hadn't started becoming shaky several minutes ago, he would've face-palmed himself for his extremely low-intelligence question.
"Yourself, duh," was the sarcastic, biting response that accompanied an exaggerated but still somewhat charming roll of the eyes. "What's messed up in your life?"
Jimin groaned loudly at those words, dropping his head against the counter's edge with a loud thump. Don't get me started. "Everything."
"What do you mean, everything? The weather's just fine. South Korea's peaceful - well, for the most part. You don't seem to have any major disfiguration or disease. As far as I can tell, everything is a stretch."
The bartender had a point there.
Jimin exhaled slowly, contemplating whether or not to open up to someone he didn't quite know. Well, seeing as how he knows things about me that even my mom doesn't, what's the harm in letting him in on a little more?
"I wanted to be a dancer," he mumbled to his lap, forehead still resting against the marble countertop. "When I got accepted into one of the most prestigious dance schools in Korea, I promised my girlfriend - my ex-girlfriend - that if she married me, I would work hard and get a good job as a performer. But after two months, I... I got the boot. I couldn't move back in with my parents, that was just too embarrassing, so I was forced to get a low-paying job and live in a run-down district. My ex, well... she called off the engagement a few months back. In her words, if I can't even support myself, how can she trust me to be a good husband and maybe even father?"
When Jimin finished, he wasn't sure what surprised him more - the fact that he basically just revealed a huge chunk of his life to a stranger, or the fact that he managed to be articulate with a considerable amount of beer in his system.
Or maybe the fact that he continued talking.
"She told me everything about her, and I told her everything about me. In two years, she led me to believe that she was the only one I could ever be happy with, you know? And then bam - all that's completely demolished with a five-minute-long argument." Jimin finished, catching his breath.
A moment of awkward, post-confession silence passed between the two of them - well, as silent as you can get in a bar full of drunk people - as the bartender thought over Jimin's words for a while. Although he was pretty sure the younger guy wasn't staring at him, Jimin felt like he was being scrutinized under a laser-eyed gaze that was burning holes into his hunched back. He's probably judging me so, so hard right now.
"I know what you mean. That's happened to me three times before - in fact, I probably visited this place more than you do now before I got hired. Sometimes, I just felt like a toy, you know? Like the girls I've dated are just playing with me so they can break my pathetic, weak heart. It's not that I'm easy - at least, I don't think I'm easy - it's just that every significant other I've had has been really good at convincing me that we were destined to be together."
Jimin snorted and lifted his bloodshot eyes to stare at the well-dressed young man standing before him. "Sorry to say this, but judging from what you just told me, you are pretty easy to get."
Surprisingly, the bartender only shrugged in response instead of getting angry like Jimin expected. "Eh. Blame my K-Drama-obsessed mom."
Hearing something so relatable coming from someone so unfamiliar, Jimin couldn't help but laugh. "Yours too? Man, I thought mine was the only one."
He wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Oh, believe me, I've got it worse. My sister's equally guilty. Her and Umma have literally re-watched My Love From Another Star seventeen times."
Jimin raised his eyebrow. "Your dad just as frustrated as you are?"
Something changed all of a sudden in the younger's expression, making Jimin glance away in guilt. Oh.
It wasn't like he could've predicted the effect his words would have on the guy - they were still strangers to each other, after all - but Jimin couldn't help but feel like he was the source of all wrongdoings in the world just by the downwards turn in the bartender's usually lightweight expression that was caused by something he'd said.
Aiming to break the uncomfortable, secret-filled lack of speech between them, Jimin cleared his throat. "So, uh-"
"Here's what you can do." The bartender turned back so their eyes met again, shocking Jimin at how relieved he was to see the carefree sparkle back in the youngster's eyes. Sparkles. Not an unsuiting nickname. "Try making some friends for once -" at this, Jimin opened his mouth to protest but was quickly cut off "- no, a brief nod of acknowledgement does not signify friendship. While you're doing whatever the heck it is you do for a living, make small talk with a few people around you. You aren't socially impaired - at least, you don't seem like it - so you won't have a hard time making friends unless your colleagues are all jerks. Believe me, having someone to talk to can lighten your load, or at least make your job less head-bangingly boring. Got that?"
Head tilted to the side in thought, Jimin considered his advice for a prolonged moment before nodding in comprehension. "Got it. Thanks, man." Out of habit, he glanced at the clock mounted on the wall behind Sparkles and immediately let loose a string of self-aimed swear words when he saw the time. ", I gotta go or I'll miss the bus back home. Thanks for the, uh, pep talk?" Waving his hands in a frantic rush, he slipped a few bills out of his pocket and slid them over the counter. "Tips." Grabbing his slightly soiled jacket, he swung it over his shoulders as he leapt off his seat and dashed towards the exit, remembering one last thing before he swung open the door.
"My name is Jimin," he called back to the person behind the counter who was watching him run about with an amused expression. "Park Jimin."
"Jungkook." For the first time since Jimin had started visiting the pub, Sparkles smiled - actually smiled, not just a forced upwards tug of the mouth - and offered a brief wave. "Jeon Jungkook. See you next week?"
Jimin gave a barely visible nod before disappearing out the door with a flick of black hair.
Making sure no one was watching, Jungkook allowed his grin to stretch out just a little bit further. "Great."
Things definitely improved after that.
With Jungkook's advice, Jimin befriended three other people in his workplace: weird, unpredictable Taehyung; quiet, slightly awkward Seokjin; and passive, apathetic Yoongi. It started as a brief exchange of words, then grew over time until the four of them were commuting to work together, eating lunch together, going to the movies together, and basically just doing everything together. Jimin's trust for his newly formed friends eventually became so strong that he told them what he'd told the bartender so many weeks ago. They reacted just as he'd expected them to - Seokjin comforted him with a sob story of his own, Taehyung grinned and said something so ridiculously logical yet unconventional that Jimin cracked up, and Yoongi just gave a brief nod of sympathy before resuming his nap.
Jungkook had been right - having people to talk with and complain to certainly brightened his life a noticeable amount.
He would have to remember to thank Jungkook sometime. Too bad the thought kept slipping his mind whenever he visited the pub.
Although it went unnoticed by Jimin, his visits to the pub that had fixed everything became sparser and sparser, until Jungkook would be shocked whenever his familiar figure appeared in the doorway. To be completely honest, Jungkook kind of missed him, missed the conversations they had over twin cups of beer ever since their first exchange. Jimin had a weird but strangely honest way of looking at things, and hearing his opinion always refreshed Jungkook's mind after a particularly long day. Especially the solutions he had for some of the most complicated political problems that were going on right now - Jimin was definitely destined to become supreme ruler of the world one day.
He wanted to find him. Jungkook literally wanted to quit his two-year-long job and search for a guy he'd met only two months ago. Too bad he a) had no idea where the heck Jimin lived or even worked, and b) knew nothing about Jimin except the crap in his life and his name. Heck, all Jimin knew about Jungkook was his name. That, and the fact that he was the easiest guy in the entirety of South Korea.
The last time Jimin had come in for a drink was Monday, the week before last. They hadn't talked much - Jungkook waited for Jimin to say something, for Jimin to at least thank him for his apparently life-changing advice - that time, only drank from their glasses quietly, both of them deep in thought for completely different reasons.
"Jungkook!"
The bartender's head snapped up in surprise at the familiar voice, resonating into the bar as an even more familiar figure came dashing through the door. His eyes were wide with excitement and he was breathless form running the entire way here. It was rather windy oustide - Jungkook could hear it whistling even when the door was closed - and his hair was in a windblown mess, strands sticking out everywhere. Unable to stop himself, Jimin collided with the edge of the counter, swore a bit, then plopped himself down on one of the leather seats with a sheepish grin covering his face. Jungkook liked Jimin's smiles, the way his cheeks pushed up into his eyes and made them disappear into thin black lines.
"Jungkook," he panted, leaning heavily on the marble countertop. "Guess what."
The younger raised an eyebrow, careful to ignore the feeling of dread that was beginning to settle in his gut. "You got promoted?"
The brief look of shock on Jimin's face was replaced by a knowing shake of the head, sending his wonderfully tangled hair swishing all over the place. "I should've known you would've guessed it on the first try. You're freaking psychic, Jungkook-ah."
"Congrats." Jungkook's smile became just the tiniest bit forced. A promotion meant better pay, but better pay meant more work and less free time, less time to visit the pub and talk a certain bartender... "Is there more?" he prompted.
Jimin's head-shaking turned into a nod. "Taehyung offered me a room in his apartment," he said.
Screw dread. Disappointment was flooding Jungkook's senses, and for some reason he felt himself tearing up. Swallowing down the lump that rose in his throat, he nodded back. "Nice. Permanently?"
Don't say yes. Don't say yes. Don't say yes.
"Yup. He says he gets pretty lonely all by himself."
Dammit.
"Great." His voice became strangely thick. "I-I'm happy for you, Jimin."
Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately, Jungkook didn't know), Jimin noticed things pretty quickly. Looking concerned, he leaned forward onto the counter until Jungkook found himself staring straight into a pair of dark brown irises, deep and soft and warm and -
Jungkook shook himself mentally. Get yourself together. He's just a customer.
Yeah, right. Even as he was telling himself those words, he knew he didn't believe them.
"Kookie, are you okay? I know I haven't come here in a while." Jimin's voice was low, quiet and almost, somewhat... husky. Jungkook did a double take.
What the hell?
Did he just call me Kookie?
And why the is my heart beating so fast?
"I've just been really busy and my new friends are so demanding... you didn't miss me, did you?" his voice had become teasing.
"Did you miss me?" was Jungkook's reply. He didn't answer Jimin's question, partially because he was afraid of what would come out of his mouth, partially because the way Jimin was looking at him...
"Hm." Jimin leaned away, thinking over his retort. "I guess so. I mean, I do think about you a lot..."
Wait, what?
What did he just say?
He thinks of me a lot?
Just then, Jimin's phone rang, and Jungkook watched as he dipped his hand into the pocket of his jeans and pulled it out. Shooting him an apologetic smile, Jimin pressed a button and brought the phone to his ear, sliding off the seat he was perched on and making his way over to the far end of the room.
Jungkook watched as Jimin's expression grew from mildly irritated to relaxed to shocked to horrified. He watched as Jimin leapt up from where he was leaning against the wall, eyes frantic with worry.
He watched as Jimin dashed out of the room, without so much as a backwards glance for goodbye.
The pub lost a regular customer after that.
Jungkook didn't quit his job, nor did he go searching for the guy that had done such strange things to his heart rate. The look on Jimin's face before he left was enough explanation for his recent, consistent absence. But he had to admit, it was a bit lonelier now, wiping down the counters with only empty space occupying where Jimin would've sat talking his head off. It kind of to have no one sober to talk to, to have to drag passed-out-drunk people awake without a second, much stronger pair of arms helping, with no expected visit at 4PM every Tuesday.
It had been a month now - not that Jungkook was counting - since the day Jimin had dashed out the door without saying goodbye, and being the rainy season, it was pouring outside. Blankets of rain pelted down outside the bus shelter, hitting the concrete with so much force that it repelled and sprayed directly onto Jungkook's slightly hunched body. Sparing a glance at his watch, he frowned at the time. The bus was fifteen minutes late - what on earth was the driver doing?
Thankfully, the moment Jungkook finished his thought, a familiar white vehicle came around the corner. Laughing like an idiot, Jungkook exhaled in relief, carefully shuffling his way towards the opening in th shelter. He just made it there as the bus pulled up beside the curb and the tall doors swung open with a mechanical hiss, letting a rush of people pour out. Having made the bad mistake of standing near the entrance, Jungkook was engulfed then pushed backwards by the crowd as people huddled under the roof of the shelter, desperate to get away from the pouring rain. After a few moments of jostling, Jungkook found himself pressed against the back wall, angling his shoulders uncomfortably to avoid touching a wad of gum on one of the supporting poles. The unfortunate person crammed beside him looked kind of familiar - kind of - but Jungkook dismissed the nagging voice when he couldn't get a good glimpse of the person's face.
That is, five minutes later with a thinning crowd and more breathing room, until he looked up.
Holy... Jimin?
No wonder Jungkook hadn't recognized him upon first glance. He'd gotten used to the soiled black bomber jacket that Jimin always wore, paired with dark and usually torn jeans. This person standing before him had a freshly-ironed and now-soaked dress shirt fitted perfectly onto his torso, immaculate dress pants, and a briefcase dangling from one hand. A briefcase. Jungkook almost laughed out loud at how unfitting the word would've been paired with the person who used to visit a run-down pub twice a week.
Not to mention his hair.
Blinking twice, it took a moment for Jungkook to process the same look of shock on Jimin's face, saying his name once or twice to make sure he was real.
"Hey." Jungkook stretched a smile. "It's been a while, huh? You never-"
His sentence was cut off by a sudden rush of warmth, wrapping around him and filling the cold air. Jimin used really nice cologne - Jungkook inhaled more air than was necessary - and his head fit perfectly beside Jungkook's, resting on his left shoulder. Jimin's arms - still strong, still sturdy arms - draped over his slight shoulders, leaving no space between them.
After a while, Jungkook too shocked to hug back, Jimin pulled away and grinned that same cheeky grin that had occupied most of their conversations so long ago. "It's really been a while. God, Jungkook, you were good-looking when I first saw you, but now..."
Feeling a rush of heat climbing into his cheeks, he looked down with a combination of embarrassed and flattered. "You look good too," he mumbled.
"Thanks." Holy , that laugh is still amazing. "Hey, Jungkookie, I never got to thank you for your advice. It really helped, you know, so... thanks. I guess I should find a way to repay you, huh?"
Jungkook's heart lifted a bit at the long-anticipated show of gratitude. Finally. Better late than never. "Oh, really?" He looked up. "And how do you plan on-?"
Record scratch.
Jimin was standing close, so close, and the expression he wore...
"Tell me about yourself."
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Wow, just realized that this is the longest story I've written so far. Even though it's not an actual story... *lamely blows on a party horn*
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