Remember to vote if you think Jimin glows like an angel and is brighter than the sun, or if you think cats are cool.

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Y/n

Dinner service had gone terribly, to say the least.

The red team managed to avoid getting kicked out of the kitchen, but it wasn't by much. Y/n hadn't made any major mistakes aside from being a dumbass and forgetting to turn the heat on, but Karen had another wellington sent back, and Felicia had issues with her halibut, too. Seulgi had been the only one not to make a mistake.

That said, the blue team had lost the service due to being kicked out, which led Y/n to where she was: the dorm. They had twenty minutes until it was time for elimination. Y/n was on the couch while the boys were gathered around the rest of the room, arguing still. They had been at it since before the girls had even returned to the dorm.

"You're a fucking bitch," Markus said, pushing Louis back and almost throwing him.

Jimin shot up. "Enough! There's no point arguing. It's Markus and Vinny. That's what we voted. Now can we please shut the fuck up so I can try to relax before elimination?"

"Fuck you." Markus flung Jimin off and stomped away, ignoring Y/n and Yuna, who had been sitting there in her little lala land the entire time.

Jimin ran a hand through his hair and nibbled on his nails. Then, he stormed out to the balcony and sat by himself. Seeing him slumped over the table like that had Y/n's heart squeezing and her stomach unsteady.

"Go," Yuna whispered. Her natural voice was like a whisper, so that wasn't much surprise. "He looks upset."

That was an understatement. But why would he care so much about stupid drama? He had watched Hell's Kitchen, like she had; both of them anticipated arguments and heated fights. Was it hitting him more than he had thought? Either way, Y/n had to get to the bottom of it, so she thanked Yuna and went to the balcony with Jimin.

Everyone else was inside. She could hear the chatting from the dorm, mostly in hushed tones, so she couldn't make the words out no matter how thin the Hell's Kitchen walls were.

Jimin didn't look up upon her stepping out. Y/n went over but didn't quite sit. She waited a moment, waiting to see if he would acknowledge her presence. When he didn't, she cleared her throat.

"Can I sit with you?"

Jimin pulled out the chair for her, still not meeting her eyes, and she took the invitation and sat. She didn't speak for a long moment, wanting to give him a minute to think rather than dive right into it. The truth was, as much as she liked him, she didn't know him that well yet. There could be a million other problems he had that built up and were impacting him in that moment. The last thing she wanted to do was overwhelm him.

"You want to talk about it?" she asked, and Jimin sighed and dove right in without answering yes or no.

"I fucked up tonight."

Oh. That wasn't what she expected.

"But you're not up for elimination. You said Vinny and Markus are, right?"

Jimin removed his hands from his face, and she spotted tears building in his eyes. Despite removing the hands, he didn't look at her. If anything, he looked further away.

"Yeah. But a few people voted for me. It was close. Two wellingtons, Y/n. I got two wellingtons sent back tonight."

"Hey, that happens. What matters is you've done flawless during the challenges, not to mention you've done great in the other services."

"But I fucked up, Y/n. I did. Two wellingtons. Not one—two. Overcooked garbage." Jimin laughed, but there was no humor in it. "I keep cursing my teammates out in Korean. They don't know it, but I'm just insulting them. Especially Markus. And now look at me. I can't cook basic fucking wellingtons."

Well, Y/n wouldn't qualify wellingtons as "basic." She didn't think anyone would, but to a professional chef like Jimin, she imagined he viewed it far differently. Gordon had expectations, and Jimin felt he hadn't met them. But he had. In Y/n's eyes, anyway.

Jimin, other than one service with two mistakes, had done perfectly up until that point. Perfectly. Was he forgetting about his five out of five during the signature dish challenge? Or his perfect first service? He had bragged to her about how Gordon had asked him to make risottos because his teammates couldn't, and he got them done. That had to count for something.

"I let my mom down," he said, sniffling, staring at his hands on the table. "What if Gordon sends me home anyway? What then? I go home to my mom and tell her what? That her son failed Gordon Ramsay?"

"No." She placed her hand on his shoulder, and at first, he flinched, but then he relaxed into the touch. "You tell her you fought like hell, and you did damn well. You tell her you got a five out of five on the signature dish challenge. You tell her Gordon Ramsay had you cooking risottos. You tell her your teammates look up to you despite you being one of the youngest on the team. Tell her Chef Park Jimin cooked something he used to cook for his mom when she was sick, and you tell her Gordon fucking loved it."

Jimin peeked up at that, a stray tear falling down. She was quick to wipe it away.

"You tell her that her son kicked ass," she continued in a soft tone. A tone as soft as Yuna's. "And I bet when she sees the show air, she'll be cheering the whole time. I bet she'll be proud whether you placed last or placed first."

"You really think so?"

"I may not know Mama Park, but yeah, I do."

Jimin smiled, and it crinkled his pretty eyes. He laughed, and that time, it sounded more genuine. He wiped the next tear away and backed away to compose himself, sniffling and wiping his nose with his jacket's sleeve before he returned to staring at her with his smooth lips forming a smile. How they remained smooth after working in a kitchen was a mystery to Y/n, but she wanted to unravel it. Any mystery revolving around Park Jimin was worth solving.

"Yeah," he said after a long moment. "Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry. I shouldn't be getting like this. Gordon wants to see bounce back, not wallowing in self-pity."

"Well, what fun is life if you don't wallow in self-pity every once in a while?"

Jimin chuckled. "Fair point." He paused to place his hand over hers. "Thank you, Y/n. And I'm sorry for dumping all of that on you."

"Don't be. I know we're competitors, but I'm also your wife. That means I'm here for you, no matter what. In sickness and in health, right?"

Jimin's smile somehow grew. "You're such a dork."

"I know." Y/n squeezed his hand, returning his grin. "But I mean it. Marriage joke or not, I like you, Jimin. You're funny."

"Damn right."

"Okay, okay," Y/n said with an exasperated sigh, shaking her head at him with a snort. "Where I was going with that is I think you're strong competition. I think everyone thinks that. Never give up. You said you're not a glass half empty kind of guy, right?"

He nodded.

"Then don't be. Keep your chin up. You're not on the chopping block tonight, so that means your team hasn't given up on you yet. So don't give up on yourself, okay? Even if your team ends up doing that, you need to stay strong and stay with me. Don't leave your wife alone here. She can die of loneliness."

"Oh, sweetheart," Jimin said with his accent pouring out. "I would never, but for the record, I think you'd be fine without me. You have a lovely friendship with Seulgi, don't you?"

It was Y/n's turn to laugh. "God, I wish. She's colder than an ocean in winter. But maybe she likes me. Maybe."

Jimin shrugged and stood, dabbing down his face with his dirty sleeve and sighing afterwards. "Shit, I forgot there were cameras. The producers are gonna eat this up."

"And then we'll have ship edits made about us. So not a total loss, right?"

Jimin smirked. "Ship edits? Is that our sign to make this marriage real?"

"Hey," she said, throwing up her hands. "You said it, not me."

Jimin booped her nose and backed away, keeping his amused expression. "Whatever you say, Mrs. Park. I'm gonna go lay down for a bit before elimination. See you soon though, okay?"

"I'll miss you."

Jimin paused in front of the door, and his once-amused face turned softer, his eyes losing their crinkles and his smile lessening to show his squishy cheeks. "I'll miss you too, Y/n."

Something about the way he said her name almost like a whisper had her (mentally) giggling more than she ever had in her life. Her stupid stomach did the cliche flipping and butterfly shit she thought only existed in romance novels, yet there she was, feeling them.

Jimin nodded as a way of farewell, and she returned it, watching him walk away and disappear into his room, leaving her outside with nothing else to do but observe the inside.

Yuna sat on the couch still, but she gazed at the rambunctious Markus who went around flinging everyone off. Y/n didn't know how the hell Markus hadn't been kicked off the entire show during service. Dude seemed like an idiot. But then again, maybe Markus was a plant for drama. If he was, the producers didn't mention that, not that she expected them to. But still. He was a fucking idiot.

Regardless, Y/n sat there and stared at her hands—the ones Jimin had touched. His touch had been so smooth, warm, and comforting. She could feel his touch still without him even being there. But she wished it was still there. She craved it, and she had just met him. Just. She knew she shouldn't be that attached to her competitor, but she couldn't help it.

There was something about Park Jimin that had her hooked.

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