After Jin left, Jungkook and Jimin were alone in Jungkook's office.
The silence was heavy. Jungkook could feel the weight of Jimin's gaze—sharp, unyielding. He knew he had just said something that didn't make sense, something that had clearly triggered Jimin's suspicions. The excuse about Jin asking for the future growth draft was flimsy at best. Anyone with half a brain in project management knew that future growth plans were always discussed at the beginning of a project.
Jimin didn't buy it. Not for a second.
His eyes bore into Jungkook, jaw tight, expression unreadable—but it was enough. Jungkook knew. Jimin was waiting.
Finally, Jimin spoke, his voice calm—too calm.
"Why lie, Jungkook?"
Jungkook swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
Jimin tilted his head, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
"I'm waiting, Kook."
Jungkook sighed, rubbing his forehead. "I… I didn't mean to lie. It's just that… Mr. Kim—Jin—he asked about you. He was worried after... you know, the cafe incident. When you found out Taehyung was Mr. Kim namjoon brother and about the lie we—well, I—helped create. You walked out so suddenly, he thought maybe you were hurt after that."
Jimin's brow furrowed slightly, listening in silence.
I should've told you earlier," Jungkook admitted. "But after that incident You also ignored me so I never got a chance to told you."
Jimin exhaled sharply and walked over to the sofa, flopping down with a groan and leaning his head back. Jungkook watched him, still anxious—but also noticing just how endearingly Jimin looked when he was frustrated.
He approached slowly, then kneeled in front of Jimin, taking both of his hands gently. Jimin didn't flinch—he knew that touch.
Jungkook pressed soft kisses to Jimin's hands.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I never meant to hide anything. I just never found the right time to explain."
Jimin looked at jungkook and he could see the sincerity in his eyes. And while he wasn't exactly angry at Jungkook anymore, the frustration remained. What really hurt was knowing Jin had cared enough to ask Jungkook about him—but never approached him directly.
Still, Jimin gave a small nod.
Jungkook smiled and kissed his hands again before standing and gently tugging Jimin's hand.
"Come on. Get up. Smile for me at least once, yeah?"
Jimin's expression remained stubborn. So Jungkook tried another tactic—he started tickling him.
Jimin burst out laughing, unable to resist. His whole face lit up, eyes scrunching into half-moons, laughter filling the room like music. Jungkook stopped tickling, mesmerized. He didn't even realize he had stopped until Jimin caught his breath, standing upright, his hair a chaotic mess from laughing too hard.
Jungkook's hands were still on his waist. Their eyes met. The room felt still.
Jimin's breath caught in his throat as Jungkook leaned in slightly, their faces now inches apart. He instinctively closed his eyes, expecting something—maybe a kiss.
But... nothing.
Ten seconds. Twenty. Thirty.
Jimin peeked open one eye and found Jungkook still staring at him with a soft, intense gaze. Then, slowly, Jungkook reached up and tucked a wild strand of hair behind Jimin's ear.
Jimin flushed, suddenly self-conscious. His hair must've looked like a bird's nest. He quickly turned around and started fixing it himself.
Jungkook chuckled behind him and suddenly wrapped his arms around Jimin's waist in a warm back hug. His chin rested on Jimin's shoulder.
"Why won't you let me fix your hair?" he asked, his breath brushing against Jimin's neck.
Jimin felt his knees go weak. But he steadied himself.
"I… I didn't want you to see me like that. I looked ridiculous," he mumbled, cheeks burning red.
Jungkook laughed softly.
"You didn't. Not at all."
He turned Jimin around again, holding his face gently.
"You looked adorably cute. You know When you laugh like that… your eyes do that half-moon thing, and your cheeks lift up—makes it impossible to look away. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, Jimin. ..You're just... effortlessly beautiful."
Jimin froze. He hadn't expected that—at all. His entire face was now a deep shade of pink. He quickly hid his face in his hands.
"Yah, Jungkook, stop babbling!"
Jungkook laughed and pulled him into another hug.
"I'm not babbling. I'm telling the truth. And you don't need to hide your face from me."
Jimin lightly smacked his chest in protest, which only made Jungkook laugh harder.
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Later That Day...
After their heartfelt moment, Jungkook left for an unexpected meeting with Mr. Namjoon and his team. It caught him off guard—Jin hadn't mentioned it earlier. Still, duty called.
Jimin, however, had stayed behind to tackle his mountain of pending work.
By the time the clock hit five, the office was nearly empty. Only the sound of furious typing echoed through the quiet halls—Jimin, still focused at his desk.
Finally, after one last keystroke, he let out a long sigh and hit "Save." The work was done.
He packed his things and took the elevator down, stepping into the near-empty parking lot. The quiet felt eerie but peaceful. He got into his car and began the drive home, mind drifting—not on traffic, but on Jungkook.
He missed him already.
For a second, he reached for his phone, tempted to call—but stopped. Jungkook had gone to his parents' house for dinner. Jimin didn't want to intrude.
He remembered Jungkook calling earlier, saying he wouldn't return to the office. His mother had invited him over, and Jimin respected that. Still, the ache in his chest lingered.
Twenty minutes later, Jimin arrived at his apartment. He tossed his bag onto the side table and collapsed onto the sofa with a groan. He was exhausted.
But sleep could wait—his stomach had other plans.
Dragging himself to the bedroom, he grabbed fresh clothes and headed for a shower. The hot water washed away the day's fatigue, and ten minutes later, he felt a little more alive.
The fridge, however, offered little comfort. Just milk, fruit, and eggs. Thankfully, the cupboard came to the rescue—ramyeon it was.
He cooked two packs, devoured them in minutes, and headed straight to bed. The moment his head hit the pillow, sleep claimed him—deep, dreamless, and peaceful.
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End of chapter