The house was quiet that evening. Yoona and Jihyun had left for a party, leaving only Jimin and Jungkook behind. The absence of others made the air feel different—heavier, almost charged, as if something unseen had settled in the silence between them.

Jungkook sat on the couch, absentmindedly scrolling through his phone, but his attention flickered to Jimin, who had been standing by the glass doors leading to the backyard. His gaze was distant, lost in thought as he stared out at the night. Then, as if deciding something, Jimin turned to Jungkook with a small smile.

"Come with me, master" he said softly.

There was something in Jimin's voice that made Jungkook follow without question. He didn't ask where they were going or why. He simply got up and trailed behind Jimin, his curiosity piqued as they stepped outside.

The night air was cool against his skin, and the soft sound of rustling leaves accompanied their steps. The house's backyard stretched into a beautifully maintained garden, but Jimin led him beyond that—to a small, hidden pond nestled between the trees. Jungkook remembered this place. He had seen it before but never paid it much attention. But now, in the dim glow of moonlight reflecting off the still water, it looked almost otherworldly.

A single lantern flickered at the pond's edge, casting long shadows across the surface. The air smelled faintly of damp earth and blooming flowers. It was peaceful, but something about the atmosphere felt different.

Jungkook turned to Jimin, who stood a few steps away. He had removed his jacket, leaving only a loose white shirt tucked into his dark pants. His bare feet sank slightly into the soft grass, and there was an unmistakable shift in his expression—something deep, unreadable, as if he had momentarily stepped out of reality and into a dream.

"This is the third stage," Jimin murmured, more to himself than to Jungkook.

Jungkook frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"

Jimin didn't answer. Instead, he took a step forward, his fingers grazing the air as if feeling for something invisible. And then—he began to dance.

It started slowly. A tilt of the head, a controlled breath. His arms moved fluidly, the fabric of his shirt billowing slightly with each motion. His movements were deliberate, precise, yet effortlessly graceful, like water

Jungkook sat on the wooden ledge near the pond, his fingers absentmindedly skimming the surface of the water. It was peaceful here, yet something inside him was anything but calm.

Jimin stood a few feet away, draped in flowing white fabric, had never seen Jimin move like a phantom of beauty, fluid and weightless, the sheer cloth an extension of his own body. But he had never seen something like this.

Never felt it meant for him.

[There should be a GIF or video here. Update the app now to see it.]

[ignore the stage and audience just imagine the back yard with little pond of Jimin's house]

Jimin lifted his arms gracefully, his fingers curving through the air like whispers. The music that played was soft, a haunting melody that carried through the night, and as he began to move, Jungkook felt as if time itself had slowed.

Jimin danced for him.

Jimin's movements were slow at first, deliberate, as if he was drawing Jungkook into something only he could see, where Jimin had danced in flowing white, his body moving like silk caught in the wind, it wasn't a stage beneath his feet or thousands of eyes watching. It was just them. Just Jungkook, standing at the edge of the pond, watching as Jimin lost himself in the dance.

A long, sheer white cloth was wrapped around Jimin's arms, trailing with his movements. It floated behind him as he spun, catching the moonlight, glowing against the darkness. The fabric was like an extension of him, moving as he commanded, his body guiding it through the air like a whisper of something divine.

Jungkook couldn't breathe.

Jimin's arms curved, his fingers brushing the night like he was sculpting something unseen. His torso twisted, the sheer cloth wrapping and unfurling around him like waves. The way he moved—it wasn't just dance. It was something more, something that pulled at Jungkook in ways he couldn't explain. It was hypnotic, the way Jimin's body surrendered to the rhythm only he could hear. Every motion, every extension of his limbs, every arch of his back was pure elegance, pure control, yet at the same time, completely free. This wasn't a performance meant for an audience, wasn't rehearsed for a stage. This was raw, unfiltered. This was Jimin, stripped of all pretense, offering something of himself in the form of movement.

Jimin twirled, the white cloth wrapping around his frame like a cocoon before he snapped his arms open, releasing it again. The way it fluttered, weightless, made Jungkook feel as though Jimin himself might disappear into the night, carried away like mist on water. His feet barely seemed to touch the ground, his body flowing seamlessly from one movement to the next, like liquid silver beneath the moon.

Jungkook felt something tighten in his chest.

He had always thought Jimin was beautiful. That was undeniable. But tonight, watching him like this, Jungkook realized something—Jimin wasn't just beautiful. He was ethereal.

Unreal.

Otherworldly.

Jungkook's fingers twitched at his sides, an unfamiliar ache settling in his gut. He wanted to reach out, to stop Jimin, to say something—anything—but he was rooted to the ground, unable to do anything but watch, completely captivated.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the dance slowed. Jimin took one last breath, his arms folding inward, the cloth slipping from his grasp and landing softly on the grass. He stood there for a moment, chest rising and falling with quiet breaths, eyes half-lidded.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Jungkook swallowed, his throat dry. He had no words.

Jimin lifted his gaze to meet Jungkook's, and for the first time that night, he smiled. It was small, almost knowing. Like he understood exactly what had just happened.

Like he knew Jungkook had just seen him in a way no one else ever had. The air was thick with something unspoken.

Jimin stood in front of Jungkook, the sheer white cloth from his dance still pooled at his feet, his breathing steady yet deep. The moonlight painted silver streaks across his sweat-kissed skin, the soft glow of the night accentuating the sharp angles of his jaw, the curve of his lips. His eyes—dark, unfathomable—never left Jungkook's face.

Jungkook, on the other hand, felt like the ground beneath him had shifted. His heart pounded against his ribs, the weight of what he had just witnessed pressing into his chest like an anchor. He had never seen anything like Jimin's dance before. He had never seen Jimin like this before. The delicate yet powerful way he moved, the way he commanded the very air around him—it was something celestial, something that didn't belong to this world.

And yet, Jimin was here.

Here, in front of him.

Breathless. Wild. Beautiful.

Then, softly, Jimin's voice broke the silence.

"How many words will be attached to your feet?"

Jungkook's breath hitched.

Jimin was singing.

His voice, low and haunting, laced with something that made Jungkook's skin prickle. There was a depth to it, a sorrowful weight hidden beneath the softness, as if every note carried something unsaid.

"Whatever you give hate, anger, love, you will remember me."

Jimin took a step closer, his eyes searching Jungkook's. There was something raw in his gaze, something fragile yet unyielding. Jungkook couldn't look away. He didn't want to look away.

Jimin's hand reached out, fingers grazing Jungkook's wrist, the touch barely there—ghostly, fleeting. But it burned.

"The laughter in your eyes once had to be quenched down."

Jungkook exhaled sharply, his hands curling into fists at his sides. His entire body felt like it was caught in some invisible pull, drawn toward Jimin by something stronger than gravity itself.

"Love was also necessary, separation was also necessary..."

Jimin's fingers trailed higher, dancing up Jungkook's forearm, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Jungkook felt himself lean into the touch before he even realized it, his body betraying him.

"It is necessary that we both pray..."

The song dripped from Jimin's lips like honey, but there was an ache beneath it, a story woven between each verse. And Jungkook understood. He didn't know how he understood, but he did.

Because hadn't they always been like this? Orbiting each other, lingering on the edge of something unnamed?

"But then it was necessary to disperse the arguments also with your past."

Jimin's voice was laced with something desperate now. His palm flattened against Jungkook's chest, right over his heart. Jungkook knew Jimin could feel how erratic it was, how it betrayed everything he was trying to suppress.

"Tell me, do you remember?"

Jungkook swallowed, his throat dry.

"When you stole my heart."

Jimin tilted his head, his lips parting slightly as his gaze flickered down—to Jungkook's lips, to the way his breath came uneven now.

"But you made God's house out of his betrayals within you."

Jimin stepped even closer, until their bodies were barely a breath apart. Jungkook's jaw tensed, his mind spinning.

"You got relief by hearing the name of your past love."

Jimin's voice wavered, just slightly. His fingers curled against Jungkook's chest, his warmth seeping through the thin fabric of his shirt.

"But now a lot has come, that was only betrayals, only mere talks."

The night felt heavy around them, suffocating in its intimacy.

"At some places it was necessary to turn away."

Jungkook felt it—the way Jimin was waiting. For him. For something.

But he couldn't move. He couldn't breathe.

Because Jimin was standing so close, his voice a whisper against the wind, his body trembling ever so slightly. And Jungkook wanted—God, he wanted—but he didn't know what to do with it.

"The laughter of your past, in your eyes also had to be quenched down."

Jimin's voice grew quieter now, as if the song itself was unraveling between them. His forehead brushed against Jungkook's collarbone, the warmth of his breath ghosting over Jungkook's skin.

"Where are you in my heart, where are you, where are you? Try looking yourself in my heart."

Jungkook's fingers twitched at his sides.

"But I am lost, as you are also lost somewhere."

Jimin's arms moved then—slowly, almost hesitantly—until they wrapped around Jungkook's waist. He buried his face against Jungkook's shoulder, his grip tightening.

A back hug.

Jungkook froze.

Jimin was holding him.

And this time too, Jungkook didn't push him away.

Instead, something inside him broke.

His arms moved on their own, circling around Jimin, pulling him even closer. He could feel the way Jimin exhaled against him, the way his body seemed to melt into his.

"You got betrayed in love, you are so infidel, you are so infidel."

Jimin's voice was barely above a whisper now, muffled against Jungkook's skin.

"I have reached my destination, yet you are a traveler, are a traveler."

Jungkook closed his eyes, his fingers gripping the fabric of Jimin's shirt as if to ground himself.

"But me as a stranger came again and again, I also had to wander."

Jimin pulled back just slightly, his lips parting as he gazed up at Jungkook. The space between them was nothing now—only the sound of their breathing, only the echoes of a song unfinished.

And then—

Jimin leaned in.

His lips brushed against Jungkook's, barely a touch, barely anything at all.

But it shattered something inside Jungkook.

Because the moment he felt the warmth of Jimin's mouth, the softness of his lips, his control snapped.

Jungkook didn't hesitate.

He pulled Jimin closer, his fingers sinking into Jimin's hair, his lips pressing harder—deeper.

Jimin gasped softly against him, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he leaned into it, his body molding against Jungkook's as if this was where he had always belonged.

The kiss was slow at first, testing, tasting. But then Jimin's fingers curled against Jungkook's nape, pulling him in further, and suddenly, it wasn't gentle anymore.

Jungkook groaned low in his throat, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, to take more. Jimin tasted like moonlight, like something forbidden, something dangerous. But Jungkook didn't care.

Because for the first time, this wasn't a mistake.

It was inevitable.

The night was quiet, except for the gentle ripple of water in the small pond behind Jimin's house. A soft breeze carried the scent of damp earth and blooming flowers, the moon casting a silver glow over everything.

Jungkook swallowed hard, his breath catching.

He had always known Jimin was beautiful. But this—this was otherworldly.

It wasn't just beauty. It was captivation.

Jungkook's heart pounded against his ribs as he watched, unable to look away.

And yet, Jungkook wanted to touch.

His hands clenched into fists against his thighs, his jaw tightening. The way Jimin moved—it wasn't just dance. It was a language, one Jungkook had never learned but somehow understood completely.

Jimin's dark eyes met his, heavy with something unspoken, and Jungkook felt it like a fire crawling up his spine.

What are you doing to me?

Through his silence. Through his denial. Through his attempts to cling onto something that had never truly been his.

And tonight, Jungkook could no longer lie to himself.

Because he wanted this.

He wanted Jimin.

Jimin had never held him like this before.

No one had.

For years, he had built walls around himself, kept himself untouchable, unreachable. And yet, here he was, standing in Jimin's embrace—allowing it.

He didn't push Jimin away.

He didn't step back.

Instead, he did something he had never done before.

He turned.

Slowly, cautiously, he turned Jimin in his arms, facing him, their bodies pressed so close that Jungkook could feel the faint tremble in Jimin's frame.

Jimin's eyes searched his—uncertain, questioning, waiting.

Jungkook lifted a hand, tracing his fingers lightly over Jimin's cheek. His skin was warm beneath his touch, his lashes fluttering as he inhaled shakily.

And then, without thinking, without stopping, without holding back—

Jungkook leaned in this time.

Their lips met softly at first—tentative, testing again.

But the moment Jungkook felt the warmth of Jimin's mouth against his, something inside him shattered.

He pulled Jimin closer, his hands tightening around Jimin's waist, his fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as if to ground himself. Jimin gasped into the kiss, and the sound sent something wild rushing through Jungkook's veins.

He kissed Jimin deeper. Harder.

This wasn't hesitation.

This wasn't confusion.

This was knowing.

This was a decision.

For the first time, Jungkook was allowing himself to be touched, to be held, to want.

Jimin's hands tangled into Jungkook's hair, pulling him impossibly closer, as if afraid this moment would slip through his fingers.

Jungkook let himself drown in it.

In Jimin's warmth. In the way their breaths mingled. In the way Jimin gave himself so completely.

This wasn't about Namjoon anymore.

Namjoon was his past.

Jimin was his now.

Jungkook moved a hand up, threading his fingers into Jimin's hair, tugging slightly, eliciting a quiet moan from Jimin's lips. The sound sent something hot rushing through Jungkook's veins, something primal, something alive.

Jimin's hands trembled as they clung to Jungkook's shoulders, his body pressing flush against him, yielding, trusting.

And that trust—devils, that trust—undid Jungkook completely.

His lips moved hungrily against Jimin's, his teeth grazing Jimin's lower lip before he soothed the sting with his tongue. Jimin gasped, gripping the back of Jungkook's neck, pulling him deeper, as if he, too, couldn't bear even a breath of space between them.

Jungkook had never allowed anyone to touch him let alone kiss  him like this.

Had never wanted to be touched like this.

But with Jimin, it was different.

He was different. He was his husband too.

Jungkook let himself melt into it, let himself drown in the warmth, in the feeling of Jimin's heartbeat thrumming against his own. It was messy. It was desperate. It was years of suppressed emotions spilling over, years of wanting but never allowing, years of longing finally answered. Jimin whimpered against him, and Jungkook responded by tightening his grip, kissing him deeper, harder and more aggressively in all his senses.

Telling him without words: This is real.

Telling himself: It's time to move on.

It wasn't just a kiss.

It was a goodbye to his miseries and pains.

A farewell to everything he had held onto.

And the beginning of something else.

Something new.

Something undeniable.

When they finally broke apart, their breaths mingling in the night air, Jimin searched Jungkook's face, his eyes wide, searching. Jungkook didn't say anything.

He didn't need to.

Because this time, he wasn't running away.

This time, he was staying.

Jungkook knew what he was doing. For the first time, he was fully aware of his own actions. He wasn't lost in confusion, nor was he acting on impulse.

He was choosing this.

Despite years of never letting anyone touch him—never letting anyone past the barriers he had built—he was here, standing in Jimin's arms, allowing himself to be held.

More than that, he was kissing Jimin.

And not just any kiss. It was deep, desperate, filled with emotions he had buried for too long. Jungkook wanted this.

With every part of him, he wanted Jimin.

He clutched Jimin tighter, hands pressing against his waist as if trying to memorise the way he fit against him. Jimin trembled slightly under his touch but didn't pull away. Instead, he melted further into Jungkook, fingers threading through his hair, pulling him impossibly close.

This wasn't a mistake.

This wasn't something he would regret.

As Jungkook tasted the warmth of Jimin's lips, he felt something shift inside him—something final.

His past with Namjoon?

Gone.

Closed.

Sealed away.

Jimin was here. Jimin was real. And for the first time, Jungkook wasn't thinking about the past—only about the man in his arms, the man who had been waiting for him all along.

When they finally pulled apart, both gasping softly against each other's lips, Jungkook rested his forehead against Jimin's, eyes still shut, grounding himself in the reality of this moment.

Then, gently, Jimin stepped back, his fingers tracing softly down Jungkook's arm before placing something in his hand.

Another letter.

Jungkook blinked as he looked down, the familiar envelope trembling slightly between his fingers.

The third letter.

Jimin smiled, something soft and knowing in his gaze. "Read it, master." he murmured.

Jungkook swallowed, heart pounding, before carefully opening the letter.

The Third Letter: The Imagination of Love

"At this stage of love, you start picturing a future of togetherness. You build an idealised image of your partner in your mind. You start to dream of what could be."

"Jungkook,"

"I wonder... do you ever imagine it too? A life where we're not standing at a distance, waiting for something to happen, but instead, walking toward each other without hesitation?"

"I imagine it all the time."

"I imagine waking up and seeing you beside me, your hair messy, your breath slow and steady in the morning light."

"I imagine hearing your laughter in the quiet spaces of my life, filling the silence with warmth."

"I imagine holding your hand in the middle of a crowded street, not caring who sees, because why should we have to hide?"

"I imagine a future where we don't have to question what this is—because we both know."

"I have built a world in my mind where you and I belong together, where there are no hesitations, no ghosts of the past to hold us back."

"But I don't just want to imagine it anymore, Jeon Jungkook."

"I want it to be real."

"Will you let it be real?"

"Jeon Jimin."

Jungkook's hands tightened around the letter as his chest rose and fell unevenly. The words... they felt like a dream. But not just any dream.

A dream he had once dared to have himself with him.

But with Jimin even if he had never let himself acknowledge it fully, it was always there, somewhere deep inside him. The way he thought of Jimin at odd moments. The way his presence alone had always been a source of comfort, a place he could return to without fear. The way, despite everything, he had never once thought about a future without Jimin in it.

And now, here it was. Written so clearly. Laid bare in front of him.

"But I don't just want to imagine it anymore, Jungkook."

"I want it to be real."

"Will you let it be real?" Jimin asked.

Jungkook swallowed thickly. His fingers trembled around the paper as he exhaled shakily. He felt Jimin shift beside him, his warmth pressing closer. Then, a soft weight landed against his shoulder.

Jimin had rested his head there, his arms wrapping gently around Jungkook's waist, as if anchoring him.

Neither of them spoke.

Jungkook stared at the letter, his mind whirling, but his body was still. It was Jimin who broke the silence.

"You don't have to answer now," he murmured, his voice quiet, almost hesitant. "Just... hold onto it for a little while."

Jungkook turned slightly, just enough to see Jimin's profile—his closed eyes, the way his lips parted with every slow breath, the peacefulness in the way he clung to him. Jungkook swallowed again, his throat suddenly dry. "...And if I already have my answer?"

Jimin's eyes fluttered open at that, uncertainty flickering in his expression. "Then tell me."

Jungkook didn't respond with words.

Instead, he slowly turned, shifting until they were facing each other. His hands, steady despite the storm inside him, reached for Jimin's. Jimin let him.

Fingers laced together, warm and firm.

Jungkook exhaled. "...It's real."

Jimin's breath hitched. "What?"

Jungkook squeezed his hands. "This. Us. It's not just an imagination, Jimin. I know that now. I know what I'm saying"

Jimin's lips parted, a soft gasp escaping. His grip tightened instinctively, as if afraid Jungkook would slip away if he let go. But Jungkook wasn't going anywhere.

Not this time.

Slowly, Jimin reached into his pocket, pulling out something small and delicate.

A single rose. But unlike the others—this one was different.

A deep, rich purple.

Jungkook inhaled sharply.

Jimin smiled softly, brushing the petals lightly before holding it out to him.

"Purple," he whispered.

Jungkook took the rose carefully, his fingers ghosting over Jimin's as he did. His chest ached, but it wasn't painful—it was full. Overflowing.

Jimin watched him, his gaze steady. "Do you know what it means?"

Jungkook nodded. His voice was barely above a whisper.

"Eternal love."

Jimin's eyes softened. "Yes."

Jungkook's grip on the rose tightened. He understood now. This was never about simple admiration. Never about fleeting emotions.

Jimin was offering him something permanent. Something forever.

And this time—this time—Jungkook wasn't afraid to reach for it. Still holding the rose, he shifted closer, pulling Jimin back into his arms. Jimin let out a soft breath, but he didn't resist. He fit against Jungkook like he had always belonged there.

Jungkook rested his chin against Jimin's head, closing his eyes.

"I want to believe in it," he whispered.

Jimin clutched at his waist, voice just as soft. "Then believe in me."

Jungkook exhaled slowly, and for the first time in a long, long time—

He did.

Jimin's lips met his again, soft and slow, a kiss that spoke without words. Jungkook melted into it, his grip tightening around Jimin's waist as if anchoring himself. But as their lips moved together, something heavy swelled inside Jungkook's chest—a wave so powerful, so overwhelming, that he barely had time to brace for its impact.

It crashed into him all at once.

Namjoon.

The betrayal. The pain.

The memories he had buried so deep, clawing their way back to the surface—every whispered lie, every stolen touch, every intimacy that had meant nothing in the end. The way he had once held onto the illusion that what they had was real, only for it to crumble between his fingers like sand.

His parents. The rejection.

The weight of expectations. The coldness in their voices as they told him who he was supposed to be, who he was never allowed to love.

The underworld. The Jeon empire.

The blood on his hands. The responsibilities he had been forced to carry. The life that had never truly been his own.

It was too much.

Jungkook hadn't realized he was crying until he felt something warm trailing down his cheek. A single drop, then another, slipping past his lashes, cascading silently down his face.

Jimin pulled back slightly, just enough to see him. His brows furrowed in concern, eyes searching. Then, gently, his thumbs brushed against Jungkook's skin, wiping away the stray tears with such tenderness that Jungkook's breath caught in his throat.

"Master..." Jimin whispered.

Jungkook couldn't speak. He just stared, his lips parted, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

Jimin smiled softly—so softly it almost broke him. He leaned in, pressing the lightest kiss against the corner of Jungkook's eye, then the other, his lips featherlight as if trying to erase every tear, every ache, every wound that had ever been inflicted upon him.

Jungkook squeezed his eyes shut.

It wasn't just a kiss.

It was an undoing.

A quiet promise.

A love so deep, so consuming, that it seeped into the cracks of his heart, mending them in ways Jungkook hadn't even realized he needed.

Jimin wasn't just offering him love.

He was giving him everything.

And for the first time in his life, Jungkook allowed himself to receive it. Slowly, he lifted a hand, resting it against Jimin's cheek. His thumb traced the softness of his skin, memorizing the warmth, the reality of him.

"...Thank you," Jungkook whispered, voice hoarse, raw.

Jimin tilted his head slightly, leaning into his touch. "For what?"

Jungkook's throat tightened. He swallowed hard, blinking through the lingering moisture in his eyes.

"For loving me," he said. "For giving me something real."

Jimin's breath hitched. For a moment, he just looked at Jungkook, as if searching for something in his gaze. Then, he smiled—soft, radiant, full of something unbreakable.

"Always," Jimin murmured.

Jungkook exhaled shakily.

And in that moment, he knew— "you won't break me again Jeon Jimin ? Becuase this time if it happens again I won't be broken, I will be shattered beyond anything and I will crumble you along with me."

"Sometimes broken and tarnishing is necessary to glow just like diamond and you Jeon Jungkook you're not just gold or any other thing you're my diamond my precious enclosure in my devoid life." Jimin replied as he held Jungkook more closely by his waist head resting in their broad shoulders.

Jimin was the one thing he would never let go of.