Mine (Jikook/Kookmin)- Complete

18

Jimin's heart raced as he hurried down the dimly lit street, the persistent hum of a motorcycle tailing him too closely for comfort. His pulse quickened with every step, and beads of sweat formed on his brow. He could feel the unease prickling at the back of his neck, his mind buzzing with anxious thoughts. He knew he was being followed, and panic started to creep in.

"What the hell do you want!" Jimin's voice cracked through the night air, his scream echoing eerily in the stillness. The street was deserted, with no witnesses in sight, just him and the mysterious rider.

The motorcycle came to a stop, the engine’s growl dying into silence. From the figure's stance, it was clear the rider was a man. Jimin backed up instinctively as the man dismounted and began walking toward him, his footsteps slow and deliberate. Jimin’s hands tightened around the strap of his bag, his body tense with fear. Without a second thought, he swung the bag at the approaching figure, landing a solid hit.

"Wait! Stop... stop! Jimin, stop!" The man’s voice, though muffled beneath his helmet, sounded familiar. But Jimin wasn’t thinking clearly. His adrenaline was pumping too hard.

"Who the hell are you?" Jimin demanded, his chest heaving. His eyes were wide with fear and anger as he stared at the man.

The stranger slowly removed his helmet, and Jimin’s breath caught in his throat. It was Jeon Jungkook.

"What are you trying to do? Why did you follow me?" Jimin's voice was accusatory, each word laced with disbelief.

"I'm not following you," Jungkook answered, his tone steady, though there was a flicker of something—guilt? hesitation?—in his eyes.

Jimin's patience snapped. "You are not? Seriously?" He scoffed, his voice dripping with disbelief. He knew that motorcycle had been tailing him since he left his workplace. The loud engine had been a constant presence, trailing him too closely for too long. It was too much of a coincidence to be anything else.

"Well," Jungkook said, pointing toward a house just down the street. "That is my house."

Jimin blinked, his annoyance flaring. "Are you kidding me?" His voice was sharp, as if daring Jungkook to tell another lie. The man standing in front of him—the same one he had shut out of his life long ago—couldn't just waltz back in with some flimsy excuse.

"I'm not kidding. I live there." Jungkook’s words were calm but firm, his hand gesturing toward the house again. Jimin's eyes followed the direction, and a spark of recognition flickered.

He remembered seeing a couple move into the house next to his a while back. He’d never imagined that it was Jungkook and... his wife? A pang of something unidentifiable—hurt? anger?—flashed through Jimin’s chest, but he pushed it down, refusing to let it surface.

"Okay." That was all Jimin could manage, his voice flat. There was no point in dragging this out. He didn't need a long conversation. Not with Jungkook. Not after all the pain. He turned to leave, eager to put distance between them.

"Jimin, wait," Jungkook's hand reached out, grasping Jimin’s shoulder. The contact was brief, but it sent a wave of memories crashing over Jimin, memories he had worked so hard to bury.

Jimin brushed Jungkook’s hand off, turning to face him, his eyes hard and his voice cold. "What?"

"I... I..." Jungkook stammered, his old stutter creeping back. His eyes searched Jimin's, looking for something—understanding, maybe even forgiveness.

"What do you want?" Jimin asked again, his voice weary. He was too tired for this. Too tired for the painful memories, for the emotional weight Jungkook’s presence carried.

Jungkook’s tongue seemed tied. The words he needed just wouldn’t come out. He wanted to explain, wanted to tell Jimin that it was a coincidence, that he hadn’t meant to follow him. But he had seen Jimin walking alone at night, and he couldn’t just let him go. Not when it was so dangerous. But none of that mattered, not when Jimin looked at him like that—like he was nothing but a painful ghost from the past.

"If you have nothing to say, I should go." Jimin’s voice broke through the silence, his tone pleading for this to be over. He didn’t want to stand here anymore, not under Jungkook’s gaze, not with the weight of everything left unsaid hanging between them.

"Wait," Jungkook called again, but this time his voice was softer.

Jimin sighed, his exhaustion showing in the way his shoulders slumped. "What? Please, I’m tired," he said, his eyes dull with the weight of the long day, the emotional exhaustion of seeing Jungkook again after so long. All he wanted was to go home, to crawl into bed and pretend this night had never happened.

Jungkook’s throat tightened. "I'm sorry. But please take care. It's dangerous for you to walk alone at night." His voice was gentle now, the concern genuine, though it sounded hollow to Jimin.

"I can protect myself. I always can," Jimin replied, his voice steady, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of something deeper—something Jungkook recognized. He knew Jimin had always been strong, independent, but he also knew how fragile he could be.

"I know. I know... you will never need me," Jungkook’s voice wavered, regret dripping from each word. "But, please... be careful. Night, Jimin."

It was the same as it had been a year ago—Jungkook, walking away from him again, leaving Jimin standing in the darkness, his heart heavy with words unsaid.