Jikook from Jin's POV.

~~~

Jin had always prided himself on being observant. It wasn’t just his role as the oldest; it was something that came naturally to him. He noticed the small things—the way Namjoon adjusted his glasses when he was deep in thought, the way Hoseok fidgeted when he was nervous, or how Yoongi’s face softened when he was secretly proud of them. And lately, Jin had noticed something different. 

He wasn’t one to jump to conclusions, but there were moments that felt too telling to ignore. Small, fleeting interactions between Jungkook and Jimin that left Jin quietly piecing together a puzzle neither of them realized they were building in front of him. 

It started innocently enough. A glance held for a beat too long. A hand lingering just slightly longer than it should when passing a water bottle. At first, Jin brushed it off. The seven of them were close—closer than most people could ever understand. But as time went on, Jin began to see what no one else seemed to notice. 

---

It was two hours before the performance, and chaos filled the waiting room. Stylists buzzed around, fixing last-minute touches, while managers ran through schedules. Jin was on his way to grab a snack when a sharp gasp cut through the noise. 

“Jungkook!” 

Jin turned to see Jungkook sitting on a bench, one of the stylists kneeling at his feet. Blood stained the back of Jungkook’s heel, and his face was scrunched in discomfort. 

“What happened?” Namjoon asked, rushing over. 

“He cut his heel on something sharp,” the stylist explained, her voice steady despite the panic in the room. “It’s not deep, but it’s bleeding a lot.” 

Before Jin could step closer, a blur of motion caught his attention. Jimin. 

The way Jimin knelt in front of Jungkook was different—too hurried, too desperate. His hands hovered as if unsure where to touch, his lips pressed into a tight line. 

“Does it hurt?” Jimin asked, his voice trembling just enough for Jin to notice. 

“I’m fine, hyung,” Jungkook replied, but Jin could hear the strain in his voice. 

Jimin’s hands finally settled on Jungkook’s knees, his eyes darting from the wound to Jungkook’s face. “You should’ve been more careful. What if—” 

“Hyung,” Jungkook interrupted softly. “I’m okay.” 

But Jimin didn’t look convinced. He stayed close, his fingers twitching like he wanted to reach out further but held himself back. 

It wasn’t unusual for them to be concerned about each other. Jin had seen it countless times.

But this?

This was different. 

---

Later, in the van, Jin sat at the far end, pretending to scroll through his phone. The air was quieter now, the chaos left behind in the dressing room. Jungkook had his foot propped up, a clean bandage wrapped around his heel. 

“Are you sure it doesn’t hurt?” Jimin asked for what had to be the fifth time. 

“Hyung, I swear I’m fine,” Jungkook replied, his tone patient. 

Jin watched from the corner of his eye as Jimin leaned back in his seat, his hands gripping his knees. He looked tense, almost on the verge of tears. 

Jungkook, ever perceptive when it came to Jimin, reached out, his hand brushing against Jimin’s cheek. 

“Don’t do that,” Jungkook murmured, his voice so low Jin almost didn’t catch it. 

“Do what?” Jimin whispered back. 

“Blame yourself,” Jungkook said, his thumb tracing an invisible line on Jimin’s cheek. “I’m okay. Really.” 

The tenderness in Jungkook’s voice made Jin’s chest tighten. It was the kind of softness reserved for someone you loved, someone you’d do anything to protect. 

Jimin closed his eyes for a moment, leaning into Jungkook’s touch before pulling back slightly.

“I just—” He stopped himself, glancing around the van. 

Jin quickly averted his gaze, not wanting to make it obvious he was watching. But he still caught the moment when Jungkook’s hand fell back to his lap, his fingers twitching as if suppressing the urge to do more.

A kiss, maybe.

A hug.

Something that would reveal too much. 

---

Back at the dorm, the rest of the members settled into their usual routines. Jin found himself in the kitchen, tidying up when Jungkook and Jimin walked in. 

Jimin hovered near Jungkook, his eyes flicking to his bandaged heel. 

“You should sit down,” Jimin said, his tone firmer now. 

“Hyung, I’m not a baby,” Jungkook teased, though the way he let Jimin guide him to a chair said otherwise. 

Jin bit back a smile, his hands busy wiping down the counter. He didn’t say anything, didn’t comment on the way Jimin fussed over Jungkook or the way Jungkook seemed to soak it all in, his eyes following Jimin like he was the only thing that mattered. 

Because Jin didn’t need them to tell him.

He already knew. 

They didn’t need to say it.

He saw it in the way Jungkook’s eyes softened when he looked at Jimin, in the way Jimin seemed to breathe easier when Jungkook was close. 

He didn’t need words to know how much they loved each other. 

And as the oldest, Jin didn’t plan to say anything.

Not yet.

Because some things were meant to be kept sacred, and their love was one of them.

The end!