When the day comes where Jimin wakes in his bed and decides he’d rather sleep for five more minutes, he doesn’t notice that Jeongguk’s already awake in his own bed, waiting for the gentle tug on his earlobe or the affectionate cooing in his ear.

But it’s not that Jimin hadn’t been expecting this, the moment he’d finally stop pining after Jeongguk and realize that an unrequited love was exactly what he didn’t want when his mom read him bedtime stories about princes and saving, that he wanted palms to wrap his hand around and not to be shoved with. He wanted a love that blossomed through his ribs and flourished through his body, not a love that reached for slivers of sunlight any chance it could get.

But five more minutes eventually became five more hours, five more days, five more anything that would help distance himself enough to stop craving Jeongguk’s skin under his fingertips like a bad drug. He’d gotten so used to teasing and searching for any kind of response and attention from Jeongguk that he’d forgotten how empty mutual ground felt, all the fight in him amounting to none, like the aftermath of a tragic battle.

“These days, Hoseok and Jimin are really close,” the rest of the members say during monotonous interviews, reminding Jimin of all the times he’s spent away from the youngest, spending it with Hoseok instead to distract him from the voice in his head. And Jimin almost wants to believe that his relationship with Jeongguk had finally boiled down to a mere friendship (ex-unrequited lovers?).

And, yeah, things are finally going back to normal when the rest of the world wasn’t rolling their eyes every time he lurched in for a “kiss” and instead wondering if Jimin had “moved on”, innocent metaphors and jokes because Jimin is good at hiding chest pangs, even from himself.

But then he starts catching Jeongguk staring at him absently from across the countless dressing rooms or in the mirrors of the practice room, and sometimes Jeongguk will wrap a firm arm around his shoulders for group pictures, like he’s trying to hold onto something, memorize something in such precise detail like he’s afraid he’ll forget. Jimin normally would have turned into a pile of mush a few months back, but now his heart has hardened, and he feels nothing but distance and restraint.

But then Jeongguk starts tugging at his wrists in between rehearsals and recordings, pressing the side of his face against his shoulder when he thinks Jimin won’t notice, offers his own shoulder when he sees Jimin nodding off in the van, and even links their pinkies before they’re ushered up on stage. And suddenly, that nostalgic feeling of his insides blossoming starts resurfacing, and he goes to sleep each night terrified that he’s starting to read the signals differently, wrongly.

“Jimin hyung takes care of me the most,” Jeongguk starts saying during the interviews, like some hidden confession Jimin tries not to look too far into. But then he’s searching again, searching Jeongguk’s face for any signs of joking. The warm smile hidden in the corner of Jeongguk’s mouth tells Jimin he isn’t lying, and the feeling shakes him so hard he stops breathing, if only for those few moments their eyes take to find each other.

But Jeongguk’s small gestures of affection slowly become a more demanding tenderness, like grabbing Jimin’s arm just to throw over his shoulders or fumbling with the buttons of his shirt whenever Jimin is near because he knows Jeongguk secretly likes him helping, the way his hands take their time as they make their way up to his collar and maybe linger against the warmth of his neck.

But Jimin knows far too much of what an unrequited love feels like, and his fear of repeating the same mistake frightens him enough to keep a safe distance, tuck his heart in the caverns of the nest he’d built to shield it from bursting.

But then Jeongguk pulls him into the bathroom one night, sits them down so that his back is pressed against the tub, and Jeongguk is so close in distance he thinks he can feel his breath on his tongue. Jeongguk presses their foreheads together tightly and closes his eyes with the same intensity, and when he whispers, “Jimin”, Jimin knows he’s back to square one.

But this time, he thinks it’s not too bad, not when Jeongguk opens his eyes and stares at him with bedtime stories in his eyes.

And Jimin stutters, words stumbling out clumsily, “But-“

And Jeongguk just tugs at his earlobe and breathes in his ear, “Don’t forget to wake me up.”