SUNSHINE, jihope. [fin.]

15; love

Jimin paces across the kitchen, fingers twisting painfully in his hair, counting his breaths to keep them steady. This is a bad fucking idea, half of him screams, get out while you can. But he has to be strong. He can’t keep running away. Losing Hoseok will be more painful than anything.

At nearly four in the morning, Hoseok returns. Dried tear tracks stain his face, and his eyes are bloodshot. When he sees Jimin he flinches away.

“Hyung,” Jimin says quietly, and then his gaze catches on the dark hickey in the middle of Hoseok’s throat. Hoseok shifts and there’s one on his collarbone, too. Running a hand over his face, Jimin falls back into a chair. “Who was it this time?” He can’t help the note of betrayal in his voice.

“Sejun.”

He could have lied. He could have lied and said it was someone else but he doesn’t. He looks Jimin right in the eyes when he admits it, like he’s given up. It feels like a slap in the face. “I told you,” Jimin says. “I told you that you couldn’t love me because of him.”

“Go on, rub it in my face. Are you happy you’re right?”

“That’s not fair. You’re the one who started all this.”

“All this?” Hoseok laughs, bitterly. “My bad, I guess I won’t make the mistake of caring about you again.”

“I was—I was going to give us a chance. I was waiting for you because I wanted—I wanted—” He stands up, fingers clenching into fists.

“You were gonna give us a chance? After one whole week of ignoring me? Am I supposed to be grateful?” His tone is so harsh, so uncharacteristic of Hoseok.

“I was confused. I needed time.”

“You could have fucking talked to me.”

“I guess it doesn’t matter because it turns out I’m right. You’re still in love with Sejun and we can never work out.”

“Maybe if you’d—if you’d just fucking talked to me we wouldn’t be here right now. Maybe I wouldn’t have—” He leans against the wall, as if he can’t hold his own weight, pressing his palms into his temples.

“I knew it wasn’t true.” Jimin looks at his shoes but they blur. His cheeks are wet. He wonders when he started crying. “I knew you weren’t in love with me.”

“You don’t know shit.” Hoseok careens off the wall, stumbling forward, nails digging into his palms. “You’re so fucking insecure you’re going to push away everyone who cares about you.”

Jimin flinches. He takes a step back, bumps into the counter behind him.

“You’re so fucking insecure you can’t see how long I’ve been looking at you. You can’t even believe it. How are you ever gonna be happy if you don’t let anyone in, huh?”

“Maybe I don’t believe it because you’re out fucking a different guy every week, maybe because you’re still not over some asshole who never gave two shits about you—”

“Don’t.”

Hoseok sounds broken and Jimin should stop, but he doesn’t. “You’re always fucking someone new and even if we’re together I’ll never fuck you, you know that, right? You know I won’t just magically change if we get together—”

“Of course I fucking know that. That’s why you talk to people, Jimin, we could have talked about that if you were worried—”

“—one week and you’ve already gone running back to Sejun. How am I supposed to believe you?”

“At least I’m not running away from my problems like a damn coward.”

“If I’m running away then you’re running away twice as fucking fast.”

“You’re just scared. You’re not scared that we won’t work out, you’re scared that we will and then you’ll be wrong—”

“You’re the one who’s scared. You fall for guys who don’t give a fuck about you because deep down you’re terrified of having something real, of having that kind of commitment—”

“You don’t know shit!” Hoseok shouts. He kicks the stool next to Jimin and it goes crashing into the couch. “You don’t know shit about me.”

Jimin’s eyes harden. The tears have finally stopped, but he doesn’t move to wipe them away. “That’s why we’ll never work out.”

He runs to their room, tugs his suitcase out of the closet and piles his clothes haphazardly inside. Numbness settles over him. This was a bad idea from the start. He always knew it was hopeless, so why had he hoped?

“Where the fuck are you going?” Hoseok says from the doorway.

“Doesn’t matter.” He strips his bed of the sheets and stuffs those in, too, sticks his books in his backpack. Zips everything shut with difficulty.

“It’s four in the morning, where are you gonna go right now?”

“Don’t care.”

He makes for the door, lugging his suitcase along. Hoseok trails after him. “Jimin, don’t be stupid.”

“Fuck you,” Jimin says, and it comes out softer than he intended because suddenly he’s crying again.

He glances around for the last time, at the kitchen counter where Hoseok always sits while Jimin makes protein shakes after the gym, at the couch where they watch movies curled up under one blanket, at the rug where they spread out their books and complain about homework. Then he walks down the hall and to the elevator for the last time.

“Jimin,” Hoseok says. All the anger has left his voice. “Jimin, wait.”

Jimin looks back at Hoseok, who stands there in his wrinkled club clothes like the shell of someone much more alive.

“Don’t go.”

The elevator dings its arrival. Jimin turns away and lets the doors shut between them.

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updates will probably be sporadic now bc I cannot keep to a schedule woops lmao