Better Than Tears (sweeter than sleep)

Listen to my heartbeat

Jimin's apartment smelled like citrus and cinnamon, a mix of sweetness and comfort and Jungkook was pretty sure there was some lavender there somewhere. He stood awkwardly by the door, Jimin having let him down so he could unlock it and go inside. He slipped his shoes off and leaned against the wall, his weariness still very present. Jimin had already disappeared down the hall and around the corner into what Jungkook assumed was the kitchen, but even though the unsaid, "come inside" was pretty clear, he lingered in the little hallway, still trying to get his breath back. He was inside a stranger's home - no, not a stranger, Jungkook, inside Jimin's home, but was that really any better?

He was a useless, awkward, constantly panicking or crying heap, nothing that anyone would want in their home, yet Jimin had brough him inside without a second thought. Did he do this often? Was it just a routine thing for him to bring back stray teenagers who'd foolishly left their coats at home? How old was Jimin, anyway? Even though he was shorter, he was pretty sure Jimin was actually older than he was. Something in the confidence, the firmness of speech, the clarity in his eyes. Jungkook really read too much into things. He should go inside.

But he was still too scared.

Soon enough, Jimin's head poked around the corner of the wall and he smiled that really gentle smile in Jungkook's direction that made him feel sheepish and warm at the same time. "Jungkook-ah, come inside, you silly. Are you cold? Come here."

He moved forward and beckoned with one hand, the other pointing in the direction of what Jungkook soon saw was the living room. There were at least three candles lit, and they must've been lit since before Jimin got home. Wasn't that a bit dangerous? But they did make the house smell nice. Jungkook breathed in deeply again as Jimin sat him down on the couch and retrieved a blanket from a basket near the TV. The walls were a perplexing shade of purplish gray, a color that should have been cold but actually seemed warm.

"Here, wrap yourself up. I'll be back with some tea in a bit. Chamomile to calm you down." Jimin turned on the lights and deposited the blanket on the couch, looking down at Jungkook from his temporary status as the taller one. "Is that okay?"

Jungkook couldn't refuse; Jimin had been so generous and gentle with him when he'd been nothing but a nervous nuisance, so he nodded without saying anything. Jimin smiled again, "I'll be right back, so just get comfortable," smoothed Jungkook's hair down once and disappeared around the corner again, leaving Jungkook staring after him with an unfamilar ache of longing rising and dissapating in his stomach.

Ignoring the blanket that was folded neatly on the couch next to him, Jungkook ran his hand over his hair where Jimin's hand had touched. It was such a familiar thing to have a hand run through his hair, but he hadn't felt it in months. The amount of comfort he got just from that simple gesture was enough to send him over the emotional edge again and he felt tears swimming behind his eyelids. It was stupid how he cried so easily, but tears had been all that had held him together, all this time of him being alone. He couldn't seem to hold them back, but maybe he could get them all out before Jimin came back with that tea.

Jungkook grasped onto that flimsy plan and cried quietly into the couch cushions, feeling the welcome relief of heavy emotions washing away and leaving him with a much clearer head. There was the beginnings of a headache behind his eyes, the result of crying three times already that day, but he ignored it. The weight that had lifted off his chest was a lot heaver than a headache.

He still felt awkward, he still felt a bit scared but he felt less like the world was caving in on him, which was good. He wiped at his eyes with shaking hands, not really noticing how he was still cold and hadn't wrapped himself in that blanket like Jimin had told him too.