걸레 지민

He recognizes the signs with ease, and it's also with alarming calmness that he pulls Jimin back from that brink every time -- as if it's almost just another daily responsibility, like brushing his teeth or doing laundry. He always frames it in a way that makes Jimin think it was his idea, it was his strength and resolve that brought himself back down to earth, and Jungkook is content with that. If that helps Jimin live another day relatively worry free in the already busy world they live, what's the point in hogging all the glory? It's for Jimin, after all. He can forgo the praise every now and then. 

For Jimin. But tensions were high -- promotions on the horizon and the looming anxiety of constantly being in the spotlight non-stop for a few weeks.  It was an unspoken rule that everyone did everything within their power to look their best. It wasn't an odd sight to see Namjoon walking around in a face mask the minimum three times a week, something he never really committed to doing any other time of the year. Jin agonizingly washed his sheets every night to keep his skin the clearest possible (where did he get the time?). Jungkook himself put in extra hours at the gym out of habit. He didn't even actively think about doing it anymore before a comeback, he was on autopilot. Everyone seemed to have a dedicated, yet realistic, game plan to prepare for the cameras in the coming months. Except, of course, Jimin. There were the aspects of Jimin's obsessive personality that he could prepare for after years of practice. They were the physical ones -- the eating habits (or lack thereof), the late hours practicing until his feet were blistered -- Jungkook had those down pat. He was nothing if not a professional at being annoyingly persistent, in a sneaky way. At meals, Jungkook watches Jimin push food around his plate out of the corner of his eye, talking excitedly and animatedly about something topical so no one would suspect anything else was afoot. In this way, Jimin is a master manipulator, and far too clever for his own good. But Jungkook is too -- Jimin falls victim to pettiness far too easily, and all it takes is Jungkook nonchalantly picking the best bits from Jimin's plate every couple minutes for Jimin to pull it out of his reach and tell him to knock it off. "You're not eating it anyways," Jungkook points out, feigning innocence as he makes another grab for something delicious looking. "Just because I don't inhale my food like air like you do doesn't mean I'm not getting to it," would come the biting reply. And ten minutes later the plate is clean, and Jungkook can deal with Jimin's sour mood knowing he's accomplished something. The long hours of practice requires more persistence and more of a back bone. The others members would drop out of the practice room one by one, turning in for the night and saying they'd put in more hours tomorrow. Jungkook, exhausted after half of them had already left, envies them -- but Jimin isn't even close to calling it a night, and if Jungkook didn't stay, he's positive they'd be peeling Jimin off the floor of the practice room the next morning, asleep and feet in a terrible state. So, he stays. Every angrily restarted routine, every minor tantrum when something isn't just right. He doesn't say anything to quell Jimin's obvious irritation. Years of experience has told him that there isn't anything that he can say that Jimin will take deeper than face value anyways, so he bides his time. He practices alongside with him even through his exhaustion, but doesn't scold Jimin about the late hour. If it's important to Jimin, he wants him to know it's important to him too. When the time comes and Jungkook pretends to badly roll his ankle during a particular step, he is always half-expecting Jimin to get irritated with him and tell him to go home if he's going to be an obvious hindrance. But of course he doesn't. Jimin hears Jungkook's over-exaggerated hiss of pain and he whips his head around, the music fading in to the background around his instinctual worry. "What happened?" He asks quickly, a hand on Jungkook's lower back, every ounce of irritation in his demeanor evaporated. "Did you hurt your foot?" "It's nothing, just stepped on it weird." Jungkook has never considered himself an award-worthy actor, but even he can't deny that when he puts weight on his now "bum" foot and his barely-there yet telling grimace gets Jimin's eyes wide with concern, he's got at least a little bit of natural born talent somewhere in him. "You need to go home and rest," Jimin says. Jungkook just shakes his head. "I'll stay, I want to practice hard for the comeback, too." "You can't practice through the pain, that's not healthy." Jungkook shakes his head once, firmly. "If you can, then I can too." Jimin goes silent, and it's in that moment of clear realization on his face that Jungkook knows he's won. When they're in the car on the way back to the dorms not ten minutes later, Jungkook is on beside himself with internal self-congratulations. Half elated because his clever plan worked perfectly for the third time that week, and half on cloud nine as Jimin absentmindedly rubs and works his very much normal and uninjured ankle. But those were the physical ones. They were easy. Jungkook excelled in the realm of the physical, he was a very tangible kind of guy. Disputes, love... it all could be settled with physicality, touch, contact; it's how it always had been for him. Unfortunately, Jimin existed seemingly entirely within the realm of the emotional, which might as well have been on top of Mount Everest during a blizzard as far as Jungkook was concerned. His psyche was guarded heavily, and penetrating it was something Jungkook had yet to accomplish. He couldn't fight off the feelings of inadequacy that plagued Jimin, couldn't drag them out back and intimidate them in to leaving Jimin alone. The way Jungkook had always dealt with -- or not dealt with -- emotions wasn't how Jimin processed his own, and it bothered Jungkook that he couldn't make anything any better. What use was he to Jimin if he couldn't even make him feel good enough? And it was times like these that were the worst. Here, in this green room after a performance. Jimin in his costume, each piece of it designer and exceedingly expensive. In one hand, the glittering trophy from that day's win. In the other, his phone with which he had just tweeted a picture of himself, trophy held close to his shining smile, to their fans all over the world, thanking them for making it all possible. Not a hair out of place, his makeup accentuating his best features, his pristine and perfect milky skin. And yet... Everyone around them was exhausted, either sleeping in whatever corner they could claim or snacking and chatting away tiredly. The sea of people made the two of them fade in to obscurity, hard to be noticed. But Jungkook was watching Jimin, and Jimin was watching himself. Jimin stood in front of one of the long mirrors in the green room, the day's spoils grasped tightly in his hands, but a darkness had crossed him. His stare seemed distant and cold as he analyzed himself in his reflection, unblinking, a direct juxtaposition to the buzz of tired excitement around him. His gaze seemed to judge silently, himself on trial for every small imperfection and mistake he could find. He was the judge, the jury, and the giddy executioner. The sight would have been alarming and uncomfortable to anyone who noticed it -- but Jimin had somehow convinced himself that in a crowd of people he faded in to the background every time. Even with his fiery neon hair, his bright skin and listless, hooded eyes, his full features and rhythmic way of moving, he thought there was nothing that set him apart from everyone else, nothing memorable about him at all. Jimin believed if he was alone in a room, it was empty. Jungkook watched him for what felt like too many minutes, disbelief overcoming him alongside waves of agitation. How could no one else see what he was seeing? He could chalk it up to exhaustion, to ingrained casualness that made everyone numb to the barely noticeable signs of something not being right with the others. But this was the Jimin that Jungkook couldn't decipher. The one who had almost everything and still felt as though it was going to be yanked away from him as soon as the world who adored him now had grown tired of him. The one who thought he didn't deserve any attention until he had become pretty, not realizing that someone had been attached to his side for years before the awards, the recognition, the brand. The one who seemed to find fault in every aspect of himself where Jungkook only found something new to study and memorize. The one who thought that in a crowd of adoring fans, no one was ever looking solely at him, when in reality it was never anyone in the crowd who couldn't peel his gaze away. What was Jimin still yearning for? And how could Jungkook make sure he got it in abundance? Jungkook could agonize over the why's and how's, like he always did around promotions when this behavior was at its peak. He could obsess over how to pull Jimin out of this spiral and continue to never actually do anything about it. He may not be able to connect with Jimin on his level, may not ever understand the convoluted and complex inner workings of Jimin's self-loathing, but Jungkook could still fix things the best way he knew how, the one way he always excelled at anything he put his mind to. Someone on the opposite side of the green room called Jimin's name, jolting him out of his trance. He blinked once, twice, and by the time he had done a 180 and was floating towards the assistant calling him to change, his facade had changed to one of unbothered content, one that would seem genuine to anyone except those who bothered to look further. As he passed Jungkook their eyes met for a brief fleeting split-second, and he could tell that Jimin knew he had been caught, but Jimin continued on with an astonishingly good poker face. Jungkook lowered his eyes back to his phone, his resolve steeled. If Jungkook existed solely within the realm of the physical, then he'd settle this the way he'd resolved every conflict in his life until this point: Physically. And with no holds barred. *** "Hobi-hyung, the food is getting cold. Where is Jimin-hyung?" Hoseok looked up from his plate and nodded his head in the direction of the room he shared with Jimin without hesitation. "Same place he's been all night." "He hasn't come out yet? At all?" "Your guess is as good as mine." "I went in there earlier," Taehyung said from the couch, his plate resting precariously on one lifted knee. "He wouldn't talk to me. It was like trying to communicate with a brick wall." "You all should just leave him alone," Yoongi offered quietly from the kitchen table where he sat alone. "He will talk when he's ready, you know how he is when he gets upset." Jungkook wasn't convinced. He wiped his chin with the back of his hand as he stared at the closed door to Hoseok and Jimin's room. "Jungkook-ah, if you go in there and try to make him talk when he doesn't want to, he's only going to withdraw more," Namjoon continued in Yoongi's place. There was a long pause, the five of them watching Jungkook watching the door, all with the same thick tension. "You can't fix everyone," Jin added, quiet. "I don't need to fix everyone." "You know exactly what I meant," Jin replied irritably, glaring holes in to the back of Jungkook's head. "There's literally no need to be so dramatic." "He doesn't want to talk," Namjoon said from beside him as he swallowed a mouthful of food. "I'm begging you, Jungkook-ah, for the sake of his mental well-being and your own, don't force him to." Jungkook should listen to his leader, he knew that, but that still didn't really stop him from already being on his feet and stalking towards the door, picking up Jimin's untouched plate along the way, before Namjoon even finished his sentence. "Or, you know, do," he could hear the exasperated voice behind him. "Everything I say is only a suggestion at best anyways." Jungkook stood at the door for only a few milliseconds before turning the handle and letting himself in. He didn't bother knocking to announce himself; what was the point if wasn't going to get a response anyways? Jungkook always lived by one motto: do first, ask permission second. Jimin was curled up against the wall on his bed, surrounded by waves of blankets that didn't cover any inch of him, leaving him exposed to the cold temperature Jin insisted on keeping the dorm's thermostat at. He didn't look up at Jungkook when he entered, didn't say anything or acknowledge his presence at all, but Jungkook could tell he was awake. And if he was awake, he was listening. "Hyung?" No answer. "I brought you food. It's cold, but you should eat something." Again no answer, but Jungkook wasn't really looking for one anyway. He gingerly placed the plate on the nightstand by Jimin's bed, next to the journal Jungkook had given him for his birthday the year before, written in twice before it was forgotten. He was surprised Jimin still insisted on keeping it close even though he never used it. The bed dipped as Jungkook sunk down on it, close enough that his thigh brushed Jimin's lower back. Jimin still didn't move. "Hyung, don't you want to talk about it?" "Go away." "No one is mad at you, you know." "Go away." "You're allowed to have off days--" "Jungkook!" Jimin whipped his head around and his small, balled fist landed directly on Jungkook's chest, giving him a firm shove. "I said leave!" Jimin might as well have been blowing smoke on Jungkook for as much effectiveness as his shoved were. When Jungkook didn't even budge, it angered Jimin further, and soon both his hands were pushing with all their muster against Jungkook's solid chest. As his desperation grew in to franticness in trying to get the other to move, Jungkook just stared down at him, silent. He didn't put up a fight, but he also didn't back down. Eventually, as was always the case, Jimin tired himself in to a stupor soon enough, and he collapsed face first in to his pillow with an annoyed huff. His fingers were still fisted in Jungkook's shirt and he didn't make any attempt to remove them. Jungkook knew he needed to let Jimin say his piece first, it was the only way he could coax Jimin out of his heavily-guarded shell. He didn't make a move to touch him, he simply stayed silent and still, watching Jimin back rise with his exhausted breaths. Finally, he spoke. His voice muffled from the pillow smothering him. "I'm humiliated." "For being sick?" He hugged his pillow around his head tighter. "During practice! I fainted in the middle of practice and even though I was fine, I was still sent home! Don't you know how embarrassing it is to be sent home like a child?" He seemed to sink further in to the mattress. "I let you guys down." "You didn't let anyone down." Jimin replied with something biting, but it was far too muffled by the pillow to make out, and Jungkook didn't want to ask for a repeat. "You didn't let me down, hyung," he whispered after a long moment. He expected Jimin to continue to prolong the silence between them, ignore him completely, start throwing fists at him in vain again -- but Jimin just turned a small potion of his face away from the pillow he was still buried in, looking at him with one eye clouded with some sort of expression Jungkook couldn't place. It almost seemed as if Jimin was looking for some sort of confirmation that he was lying. "That's easy for you to say," he finally replied. Jungkook's stare turned quizzical. "What is that supposed to mean?" "Every fucking thing you touch turns to gold." Jungkook could feel the blood rising with heat in his veins. "I have no idea what you're talking about, and neither do you." Jimin shot up angrily from where he laid on the pillow, his livid face inches away from Jungkook's, challenging. "Have you ever even let down anyone in your stupid life?" "Yeah, I have." "Oh really? Who?" "You." Jimin only pulled back a fraction of an inch, his eyes only widened for a hair of a second, but it was enough for Jungkook to see the surprise on his face at Jungkook's no-hesitation response before he hardened again and sneered, "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" Jungkook threw his hand up in exasperation. "What do you think?" Jimin made to move off the bed around him. If Jungkook wouldn't leave, he'd do it himself. "I don't have to listen to this nonsense." He didn't make it but a few inches before one of Jungkook's long and muscled arms wound itself around Jimin and practically threw him back to where he had been sitting on the bed a few seconds prior. He bounced as he hits the mattress, shock evident on his face at the blatant manhandling. "Well you're going to listen anyway."