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threeletterslife · 5 years ago

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Nothing a Lil Green Can’t Fix

→ summary: Imagine having a best friend so crazy you have to have 911 on speed dial. Turns out that you are that friend. And it's up to Park Jimin to keep you from facing disaster.

→ pairing/rating: jimin x reader | PG-15

→ genre: i love bittersweet stories 🥺 so this is basically fluff all the way but angst lurking in the background | coming of age!au

→ warnings: profanity, mentions of death, divorce, heartbreak (like pretty fucking sad shit), implied sex

→ wordcount: 19.2k

→ a/n: i had so much fun writing this! a HUGE thank you to all of my friends & beta readers who helped me not make a big embarrassment out of myself LOL. a round of applause and special thanks to @aaugustlee, @fangirlfeelz, @bangtansgalaxie, @byuncaa, @yunjikim021 for putting up with my unedited writing! (: ALSO a huge HUGE thank you to @justastar for this BEAUTIFUL mood board 🤩

♫: Who by Lauv (feat. BTS) | Say Something by Pentatonix | Inner Child by BTS

cr.

When Jimin was younger, he knew superheroes existed. After all, his own mother was one of them. She cooked, washed the clothes, taught Jimin the alphabet, ran the grocery errands, worked from home, read Jimin a bedtime story and tucked him into bed—which was her daily schedule. She was strong, loving and caring. The things every mother should be. She handled problems better than she handled her emotions, that woman.

Which was probably why she cheated on Jimin's father. Jimin was only five when he heard the shouts and screams coming from downstairs. He remembers how frightened he had been, gripping his pillow and trying to drown the sound of yelling with his blankets. Only shortly after that night, his mother had packed her bags and left. Jimin never saw her again.

But life wasn't too bad after that. You had shown up, after all.

Even though Jimin's once perfect family was ruined, he didn't mind too much. When he's with you, he forgets about all of his other problems.

You'd first waddled up to him in his kindergarten class with a green marker in hand. "Can you please color me green?" you'd politely asked.

If Jimin's mother taught him one thing before she walked out of his life, she'd taught him manners. So when you, a complete stranger, had been so polite about a request that didn't look like it'd do much harm, Jimin complied.

He helped you color yourself green. Halfway through the process, he'd said: "Why are we coloring you green?"

You'd laughed out loud, grinning as you announced emphatically, "BECAUSE GREEN IS THE BESTEST COLOR EVER!"

You hate it when Jimin teases you of your first encounter with him. Mainly because you had yelled out 'bestest' at the top of your lungs that day and 'bestest' is most definitely not a word. (You're kind of a grammar freak.) Not to mention, both of you had gotten into huge trouble for coloring you green that day. Jimin had cried when the teacher had scolded the two of you, but you had shrugged, patted Jimin on the back and boldly asked the teacher, "Would you like to be colored green as well?"

You were banished to the time out chair and your star got moved down two slots into the angry orange section instead of the happy green. Jimin had felt sorry for you, but you didn't seem like you cared that much. Your skin was your favorite color. How could you not be happy?

Later that same day, you'd declared Jimin your best friend. And then you had taught him your secret language so no imbecile could eavesdrop on your private conversations. Jimin thought you were the coolest human being alive.

Jimin still thinks you're the coolest human being alive.

He's thirteen and waiting for you outside of your house so both of you can walk to school together. Walking to school side by side has been a tradition ever since you were little, too. It was also a tradition that you were always a few minutes late.

You suddenly bust out of the door with half a bagel in your mouth and your hair a frenzied mess. "Bye Granny!" you yell as the door slams shut. "Let's go!" you exclaim to Jimin in your secret language as he nods in agreement. The two of you begin to walk to school.

"What are you today?" he asks as he looks over at your outfit of the day. You're wearing black cargo pants, a black mesh top with a black tank top underneath, big, black boots and metal chains around your neck. You like to keep your fashion choices interesting by having a different style every day. You've already tried prim and proper, goth, princess and tomboy. But this... Well, this was something definitely new.

"I'm a bad girl." You grin, chomping down on the rest of your breakfast and brushing your hands together to get rid of the crumbs.

Jimin frowns. "You're gonna get dress coded," he says but upon your disappointed look, he sighs. "You're gonna get dress coded," he says in the secret language.

"Am not."

"Are too."

You roll your eyes, flipping your messy hair over your shoulder. "They can dress code me. Fine. I'll go to school in my underwear the next day, then."

Jimin laughs, shaking his head. "They'll send you to juvie."

You snort, throwing your head back in a fit of laughter. "Oh, Jimin, I—" You suddenly gasp, hand flying into your pocket to fish out your favorite green permanent marker. Its name is Gilbert.

"Grammar error?" Jimin asks.

"Yeah," you sigh, shaking your head in disdain. "Over there."

There's a sign in front of a local coffee shop that painstakingly reads: free cakes everyday after four!

"They forgot the space between 'everyday,' " you huff, so disappointed that you forget to speak in the secret language. "Wait right here."

Jimin stops walking, watching you quickly stroll over to the sign and circling the word, 'everyday' with Gilbert and marking in all caps right next to it: NEEDS SPACE.

You make your way over to Jimin again, sighing. "When will people learn?"

"Not everyone is good at grammar, Y/N," Jimin reminds you. "I think you're being a bit of a grammar Nazi."

You scoff. "So what if I am a grammar Nazi? Do you think it's acceptable to parade around town using the wrong 'everyday?' " You throw your hands in the air for dramatic emphasis.

"I mean, everybody makes mistakes," Jimin tries.

You huff, crossing your arms. "Yeah, like your outfit," you grumble. "You forgot to hook a strap of your overalls over your shoulder."

"Hey!" Jimin says. "It's fashion!"

"It's ridiculous," you counter. "It's like you're trying to show off your man chest."

"Well, you're trying to show off your girl chest."

You gasp, gazing down at your black mesh top before realizing Jimin's actually right—this stupid top does expose a lot of you to the public's scrutiny. "Don't look there, idiot!" you say. "Perve."

"What am I supposed to do? Not look at it?"

"Yes!" you say very indignantly. "A true gentleman would not look!"

"But it's right in front of my face!"

"You know what, Jimin? You can walk to school alone!" You start dashing away from Jimin, your heavy boots thumping on the concrete.

"Wait! Y/N!"

Though you might've won the fight at that moment, Jimin becomes the real winner when you come out of your house the next day wearing a turtleneck that covers your whole upper half and modest boot cut jeans with white sneakers.

"What are you today?" Jimin teases in the secret language.

"Shut up," you mutter. "Let's go."

Jimin happily obliges, skipping his way to school as you grumble, following right behind him.

Sometimes Jimin wonders what he would do without you. You were the angelic figure that had swept him off his feet when he needed a good distraction from reality. You had stepped in when his mother had stepped out. And he loves you no matter how weird you are.

"Jimin?" you ask, your head propped against his chest as his arm wraps around you. Both of you are staring up at the blue sky with sunglasses on.

"Hmm?"

"I think I can speak to the weather," you confess in the secret language, grinning wildly as you watch the clouds shift in the blue sky. "It was probably my fourteenth birthday gift from the universe, you know?"

Jimin loves how you never grew up. You were the same Y/N he knew in kindergarten with a big imagination and overflowing creativity—only smarter, taller and more beautiful.

"You can speak to the weather?" Jimin asks.

You nod. "I'm making it sunny right now."

"Really?"

You snuggle into his chest, clinging to his warmth as you laugh. "I control it with my emotions. I'm so happy right now that the sun can't help but shine upon us."

Jimin's heartbeat quickens as you clutch onto his t-shirt, but he tries to play it off. "And why are you so happy right now?"

"It's summertime!" you exclaim, suddenly jumping up and out of Jimin's arms. "We'll be in high school this year!! And you know how much I love hanging out with my best friend."

Jimin smiles, though he wonders if you'll ever love him the same way he loves you.

"You know," you sigh as you trudge down the steps of your apartment building in a large green raincoat and white boots with a glazed donut in your hand. "I'm feeling pretty horrible today. I think it's going to rain."

Jimin nods as he looks up at the sky. Sure enough, the rain clouds are settling in, painting the sky a dark gray. "That's not a good way to start off the first day of high school."

"It really isn't," you sigh.

"Is it your granny?" Jimin whispers in the secret language as both of you begin to walk to your new school.

You flinch. "She's just... she's not feeling too well, you know?"

"I'm sorry," Jimin says. "Do you know what it is?"

"She won't fucking tell me," you groan, handing your donut to Jimin. "I don't want it. Do you?"

It's Jimin's favorite food: a glazed donut, so he takes it and munches on it. Something tells him that you saved it just for him. "Thanks," he says. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No..." You shake your head, your lips that had been set in a stern lip suddenly curving up to reveal a bright smile. "Sorry, I'm totally killing the mood. We should be excited! High school, right?? Oh my god, do you think we're all going to dance in the gym like we're all in it together??"

"That stuff only happens in the movies," Jimin chuckles as he finishes the last of your donut. But upon seeing your disappointed face, he offers: "No, we'll definitely dance around in the gym singing songs from High School Musical."

"That's more like it!" you exclaim.

Crazily enough, by the time the two of you reach the new school, the rain clouds have disappeared from the sky. Jimin looks over at you, who had taken off your raincoat to reveal a rather summery green t-shirt dress. Maybe you really can control the weather with your emotions.

Jimin admires how you don't give two flying fucks about social standards. You're brave enough to be yourself, to stray from society and not conform to stupid high school stereotypes. You're everything that he isn't. And in sophomore year in high school, you're wilder than ever before. Frankly, he thinks you're what everyone wants to be but is too afraid to be.

"Did you study for the AP chem test?" Jimin asks as he fidgets with pages and pages of notes in his hands.

You snort, tugging your favorite green jacket around yourself. "No. Why would I? It's just a test."

"But it's an important test," Jimin insists, eyes glazing over as he half listens to you and half crams last-minutely. "Last test to raise your grade before the final."

"My time's important too," you laugh. "I don't regret those six hours I spent reading yesterday. You know, I woke up so late today that I had to wear my pajamas to school."

Jimin glances down at your sweatpants and looks up at your tousled hair.

"Yeah," you say, "only had time to put on the nearest jacket. But it's kind of hot, isn't it?"

You're right. Ever since you helped nurse your granny back into top-notch health, the weather was perfect—always sunny and just slightly breezy. It matches your mood.

You shrug off your green jacket, folding it away. When Jimin notices your shirt underneath, he gasps out loud.

"Y/N!"

"What?"

"You're wearing those pajamas!" he exclaims in the secret language, frantically. "Do you wanna borrow my t-shirt or something?"

"What? No!" you cock your head. "What's so bad about my t-shirt right now?"

"Y/N, you're literally wearing a shirt with the periodic table on it. We're taking a chem test!"

"Oh, you're so funny, Jimin," you say, shaking your head. "It's just a t-shirt. No one will care."

Fast forward ten minutes later when your AP chem teacher calls you up before you sit down with your test and tells you that you need to put a jacket over your shirt.

"But Mr. Levitt!" you protest. "I don't want to be in a stuffy jacket when I'm taking a test!"

Mr. Levitt sighs, but after an intense one-minute staring contest in which you claim victory, he agrees to turn on the air conditioning. Silently, everyone thanks you (it's a hot day, after all) as you return to your seat with your jacket covering your shirt and your eyes sparkling with their usual mischief. Jimin thinks you might've elaborately planned this whole scheme out. Mr. Levitt is infamous for being a total tightwad on the AC, so maybe you thought you had to do something about it instead of studying for the test.

Naturally, you proceeded to completely bomb the chemistry exam.

"Ugh," Jimin groans the next day as you step out of your home with an apple in your mouth. "The scores are out. I got a 92%," he huffs. "That's barely gonna raise my grade."

You laugh out loud, tossing Jimin another apple that he gratefully catches. "I got a 43%. Deal with it."

"You're serious."

"I'm always serious," you giggle, twirling around in your rather nice-looking outfit. Jimin notices you took extra time to curl your hair and apply a sheer lipgloss on your lips. "Besides, you know, that test had so many grammatical errors that I couldn't possibly focus on the problems!" You scoff, shaking your head disdainfully as your eyes gloss over to remember the horror you saw the day before. "I had to whip out Gilbert and fix all the errors, you know? I didn't even get to look at half the questions on the test. But I'm pretty sure I got everything else right, though," you confidently announce. "Totally worth it. Mr. Levitt needs to learn a thing or two about dangling modifiers."

"But Y/N, you can't fail a class!" Jimin protests. He doesn't have the guts to tell you that you earned your 43% after a 13% curve—that in reality, you'd really gotten a 30%.

"I'm not failing," you giggle, "yet."

"What am I gonna do with you?"

You shrug, biting at your healthy breakfast and chewing slowly. "Anyways, do you like my outfit?" you ask in your secret language, totally changing the subject.

Jimin warily eyes your pretty skirt and button-down top. His face heats up just a little bit, but he forces himself to look away. "Why'd you dress up so much? You're going to fall down wearing those heels."

You roll your eyes so hard Jimin can see the whites of your eyes. "Google Earth always takes pictures, my friend," you sing. "If people see me walking down this street on that app, I want to look fabulous."

Jimin's learned a long time ago from experience to not believe everything you say. (One time when the two of you were six years old, you told Jimin if he waited in his garage at night without falling asleep, he'd see his father's old, battered Hyundai turn into a chivalrous robot—this was after you had watched Transformers with him at home—and Jimin had stupidly believed you. What followed was him staying up for three nights in a row, waiting for the car to morph in Optimus Prime. He was almost going to stay up for a fourth night until you had to put an end to his madness by telling him you were joking.) And there were many, many more times your large imagination had convinced Jimin something that wasn't real, was. But now, he knows when to take your words with a grain of salt.

Even so, the next day, he dresses up extra nicely. Just in case Google Earth is taking photos.

You pass sophomore year with mediocre grades, but by now, Jimin knows you don't really care much about your transcript.

Junior year is rumored to be the hardest of all in high school, a rumor that turns out to be quite true. Well, except for you.

Jimin's reading for his huge physics exam on his bed while you're propped up against the headboard, legs tangled absentmindedly with his. The two of you had been in that position for hours. Normally, you can't sit in one spot for more than forty-five minutes, but you must be concentrating on something because you'd been way too still and quiet for way too long.

"Hey, Y/N?" Jimin calls in the secret language. "You good?"

"Hmm," you hum. "Mhm."

When Jimin looks up, he sees you sewing. You must've gotten that sewing kit splayed before you from your granny. It's really endearing how much you love her and how much you're willing to do for her. She's the only family you've got left around here, and she's the one that has taken care of you since you were very young. Your granny is a lot like you, too. Jimin's heard from you that she likes watching extreme sports and hopes to become a three-time gold Olympic medalist snowboarder by the time she's dead (though she hasn't won a single snowboarding contest in her life). She loves fashion and enjoys taking you out to shop. She likes to preach that grades do not define intelligence. (It seems as though you've had that soaked in your brain for a very long time.) Her husband, Gilbert, was a grammar freak like her, but he passed away before you were born. You named your permanent green marker after him.

You don't like to talk about it, but your granny hasn't been in great health in the past few years. Jimin knows how much it's putting a strain on you, yet you insist that everything's completely fine before suggesting to embark on another wild journey.

"Are you sewing something on your favorite shorts?" Jimin asks, setting down his physics book.

You nod, tongue poking out of your lips as you concentrate. "It's a QR code."

"Oh, really?" Jimin becomes interested as he scoots closer to you so that your arms are touching.

"Yeah, so when I wear these scandalously short shorts and guys are checking out my ass, they'll see this QR code instead and dare to scan it, you know?" you smile proudly at yourself, setting down your sewing project as you lean again Jimin's shoulder. "Wanna know what comes up when you scan it?" you ask in the secret language.

"Yeah."

"Information about colorectal cancer."

"What?"

"Colorectal cancer. Colon cancer, Jimin." He notices the way your lips tremble slightly as the words spill out of your mouth. You're struggling to keep a straight face.

"Oh, Y/N... Your granny—"

"Yes," you cry out, tears starting to well up in your eyes. "Stage four, Jimin. Fucking stage four. She has about a year left."

"Y/N..."

You move in to hug Jimin, crying into his shirt as he wraps his arms around your waist, letting you cry in silence.

You don't like to cry. Jimin's only seen you cry one other time in his twelve years of friendship with you—when your granny had her first cancer scare a couple years back. To see you breaking down in front of him like this hurts him more than words can describe. You're usually so resilient; you wear a fierce smile on your face even when times are tough. But you'd have to take off your happy mask at some point.

He lets you sob into his chest, warm hands tracing circles on your back in hopes of soothing you. He never knows the right thing to say, unlike you, so he stays quiet.

It takes a few minutes but your sobs dwindle to soft sniffles, then to complete silence. Jimin holds you in his arms without complaint, savoring your warmth, hoping that just embracing you can help.

You pull away, wiping off the residue of your tears on your face with the back of your sleeve. "I'm so sorry, Jimin," you whisper, your hands tracing the wet patches of your tears on Jimin's shirt. "I think... I need to go home."

He doesn't stop you when you pack up your sewing kit and leave without another word. And he hates himself for being so cowardly.

But the next day, you come out of your house with a bright smile on your face. You're wearing the shorts with the QR code sewn on the back, proudly flaunting them to Jimin. He does everything so his eyes don't linger around your ass; in the end, he just looks away entirely.

You laugh when you see him blush, linking your arms together as you march to school. The sun's shining brightly today, but the streets are wet with the hard rain that had poured last night.

All too soon, senior year rolls by with summer just around the corner. You and Jimin make use of your lax time, no longer needing to worry about grades or academic productivity.

"You know, everyone has one deep fear," you confess, snuggling up against Jimin on the sofa in your room. "You know what mine is, right?"

Jimin nods. "Losing your granny."

"Good. Well, I think I know what yours is."

"Really?" Jimin asks, letting you rest your head on his chest as he plays with your hair.

"You're afraid of being left alone," you whisper. "You're especially afraid someone you love will leave you."

"Hmm..." Jimin hums. "Like my mother?"

"Yeah. But me too."

"You?" Jimin asks, bewildered, suddenly sitting up and moving away from you to stare into your eyes. "You're leaving?"

"Hey, relax," you giggle, shaking your head. "I'm not leaving forever. I'm just... I didn't tell you but... Granny passed away a few days ago. You know when it was raining really hard that night? Yeah, well that was because I was crying nonstop. She'd always wanted to be buried in Hawaii because that's where she met Gilbert. I'll be in Hawaii for a week—"

"Why don't you tell me anything until the last minute?" Jimin sighs. "You could've told me your granny passed away the day it happened. Why are you telling me now?" He struggles to keep his voice from trembling too hard. I didn't even get to say goodbye to her...

You shake your head, biting your lip to keep a straight face. "Because I knew I'd break down if I told you the day it happened."

"Y/N, it's okay to cry..."

"No, Jimin. It's not. I'm supposed to comfort you. I'm supposed to be the strong one that doesn't bat an eyelash when trauma comes her way. I'm supposed to be resilient, Jimin," you sigh. "I refuse to cry."

Jimin doesn't know what to say.

"I know," you say, leaning forward to grasp Jimin's warm hands. "I'm so sorry. I told you we'd go to the senior prom together. I'm so, so sorry, Jimin." You're smiling to reassure him, but your façade isn't fooling anyone—thunder clouds boom outside of your house, then the rain begins to fall. "I'm sorry, Jimin," you say again. "I want to make it up to you somehow."

Jimin had completely forgotten about going to prom until you had brought it up. You'd made those plans during freshman year, and both of you had been excited about it for all of high school. Now, it looks like those plans will be ruined. But Jimin knows how much you love your granny. She means way more than a silly prom night to you. He'll have to figure something out for himself. "You don't have to make anything up to me, Y/N," Jimin says. "I'm not going to prom, then, I guess."

"But you've been waiting for it since we were in ninth grade," you protest, shaking your head. "You were going to wear a green suit to match my green dress, remember?" you say in your secret language, a small smile playing on your lips. "I can get someone to go with you."

"It's fine, Y/N," Jimin says, shaking his head. "My dad wants me to start thinking about my future, anyway. I don't think he'll appreciate me going out without knowing what I want to study in college."

You nod. "Oh, okay, then."

"You're not going to college, are you?" Jimin whispers.

"I can't, Jimin," you shrug, a fake smile plastered on your lips. "I got a job at a restaurant as a waitress. I think I'll manage financially. You know, I think you should go into engineering or some pristine shit. You're too good at math and science."

"I'll keep that in mind," Jimin says as you cuddle into his chest again. He's known you for thirteen years now and he's never seen you this let down in his life. You're struggling to hide the gargantuan amount of pain you're feeling, but the weather is reflecting your emotions too well. Jimin never knows how to comfort you—partly because you're rarely upset, but also because he's scared you might leave him if he says the wrong words.

You're right.

Jimin's terrified of losing someone he loves. He's scared that you'll leave him one day.

Your senior year in high school is the last time Jimin sees you sad. It takes you a few months to adjust to a life without your granny, but after that, you jumped right back up and out of your misery. The years rolled on through delightful days and unforgettable nights. Both of you are 24 now and it seems like nothing has changed.

Jimin waits for you to come out of your house in your work uniform, and you do just a few minutes after he arrives.

"Hey!" you beam at him. "Hope you didn't sleep too late studying or whatnot."

Jimin laughs as the two of you begin to walk to your workplace. "I actually pulled an all-nighter studying for the mid-term," he shrugs, pointing at the dark circles underneath his eyes.

"Aww, Jimin," you coo. "I'm kind of glad I never went to college. Much less try for a master's degree. After your classes, wanna meet me during my night shift?"

"Sure," Jimin agrees. His eyes glance at your petite figure, admiring the bright look on your face and your sparkling eyes before realizing what you were wearing. "Oh, Y/N!"

"What?" you giggle. "Do you like it?"

"The manager isn't going to be happy about that, Y/N," Jimin sighs.

Your work uniform was black and red—a modest black dress with a cinched-in waist and short sleeves and a red waist apron. It was a uniform that Jimin thought made you look gorgeous, but he knew how much you hated it. You'd complained several times that the outfit was too dark and gloomy and that it made you look like a sexy vampire. And you do not like sexy vampires. (Jimin thinks that's because you always rooted for Jacob the "sexy werewolf" in the hit book series, The Twilight Saga.) But what could you do about it? The black and red uniform matched the colors of the logo of the restaurant you worked in: The Black Dress.

Yet it seems like you do not give a fuck.

You're now wearing a bright green skirt with a green fanny pack around your hips, and the white pirate blouse you bought on a shopping spree sale last Halloween. Your red waist apron is tied around your neck so it flows behind you like a cape. And to top it all off, there are green clips in your hair.

"I think I look outstanding!" you chirp, twirling around. "I'm still wearing my apron so I think I'll be fine."

"Y/N... You work at The Black Dress... You can't not be wearing a black dress!" Jimin cries. "You're going to get fired!"

"Nah, I'm not," you snort. "I think the new manager has a soft spot for me. He'll really like my rather innovative work uniform!"

"What if I come over during your night shift to find out that you're no longer working there?" Jimin protests. "How are you so sure he'll be fine with you not following the dress code?"

"Oh, Jimin," you giggle, shaking your head. "Live a little! Break a few fucking rules, will you? The manager and I are good friends. I'll be fine. We're still on for tonight, right?"

"Yeah," Jimin scoffs, "if you still have your job by then."

"I will!" you protest. "Do you wanna bet?"

"What? No!"

Jimin knows when you threaten to make a bet, you're always 100% sure you're going to win. He had lost a lot of money before he’d figured that out.

"See? I'll be fine, Jimin," you say, stopping your walking when you come in front of the restaurant. "Good luck on that mid-term, all right?" You give him one of your best grins, hitting his back encouragingly as you begin to walk backward towards the entrance of the restaurant. "You're going to ace it!" you yell in the secret language.

Jimin smiles brightly. He knows that your words of encouragement will do wonders to his score like always. "Thanks!" he calls. "Bye!"

You wave your arms frantically, nearly tripping on a rock as you do so (walking backwards is not your thing). With final grins exchanged, you head into the restaurant. Jimin watches as you leave, unable to hide the fierce blush of his cheeks. It's been almost two decades and he's failed to tell you that he loves you.

Meanwhile, you sashay into the restaurant, twirling around in your modified work uniform. "Hello, everyone!" you announce in your best singing voice.

"Good morning, Y/N," your manager offers, smiling at you as he walks up to greet you.

He's a handsome man, you must admit. In his early thirties, intelligent, good with his words and rather caring.

"It's just me for now," he chuckles. "I guess the others will come later."

"Wow, I can't believe I'm the first one here, Namjoon," you laugh. "I'm literally always the last. Isn't this the first?"

Your manager laughs as well. "This is a special day then, isn't it?"

"Every day is a special day. Is it not?"

"That's very true," Namjoon agrees. "Is that why you decided to ditch your work uniform, Y/N?" he teases. "I must say the modified version looks quite nice. Someone has a penchant for the color green doesn't she?"

"You caught me!" you exclaim, raising your hands up in mock guilt. "My best friend thought I'd get fired or something. He's such a plain Jane," you giggle. "But I love him though. He's coming over later during my night shift. Is that okay?"

"Of course that's okay," Namjoon smiles. "I thought he was your boyfriend. Doesn't he walk you here every day?"

You laugh so hard you snort. "Boyfriend? Boyfriend?! God, no! We've been friends for nearly two decades, Namjoon! I think one time we even showered together. We're literally best friends."

"Good," Namjoon grins. "Because I've been wanting to ask you out for a while."

Your eyes widen. "Wait, really?"

"Yeah. When are you free?" he asks.

"Hmm..." you think. "Well, I'm supposed to have a movie night with Jimin on Friday. On Saturday, Jimin and I are supposed to watch the water fountain show we bought tickets for like seven months ago... On Sunday I'm supposed to sleep over at his place so we can wake up on Monday at the same place, you know, so it'll be easier for Jimin to walk me here... I think I'm okay Sunday. As long as I get to Jimin's home by 8!"

Namjoon laughs at your long explanation, looking at you fondly. "I'll take you out on a cafe date. Then we can watch a movie and have an early dinner. How does that sound?"

"I like it!" you giggle. "I haven't been on a date in... damn, I've never been on a date."

"Really?" Namjoon asks, slightly bewildered. "No one's taken you out on a date? You?"

"Yeah!" you blush. "Why? Am I date-worthy?"

"You're very date-worthy, Y/N," Namjoon laughs. "Maybe everyone thought you were already taken. You know, you spend a lot of time with your best friend."

You snort. "Jimin and I hang out all the time but I never once thought of anything as a date. He probably thinks of me like I'm his sister!"

"Good, good," Namjoon grins. "So he won't be mad that I'll have to steal you away for a day."

You giggle, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Jimin never gets mad. The last time he got slightly irritated with me was in senior year of high school."

"Great!" Namjoon says. "I'll see you at the cafe next door at 2?"

"Sure!" you exclaim.

"Everything's planned, then," Namjoon smiles. "Well, we have fifteen minutes left until the restaurant opens. Why don't you get dressed in your actual uniform? We have extras in the back, okay? Maybe I'll see you around today! I'm going to go check up on our chefs."

"Okay!" you nod. "Bye!" When he's out of view, you have to duck your head to hide your blushing red cheeks. When was the last time a man was interested in you? Never. You're not going to mess up on a perfect chance to date Kim Namjoon who's tall, handsome, intelligent and diligent. You don't think you can wait to meet Jimin during your night shift to tell him such good news. You might just accidentally text him right now! But you can't. Jimin's taking a test and you would be evil to distract him like that.

You've awaited your fairytale romance for 24 fucking years. Maybe you've finally found the Gilbert to your granny. Something about Kim Namjoon feels right.

You squeal giddily as you flee to the back counter of the restaurant, finding the extra black dress there as Namjoon said. You skip to the bathroom to get changed, folding up your modified uniform and stashing it somewhere in the back counter. Your radiance is obvious during your day shift—you get three times the amount of tips than usual. Namjoon even notices and compliments you on your diligence!

Usually, when your day shift is over by 4 p.m., you like to sit in the corner of the restaurant with a fresh magazine in hand and use Gilbert to correct all the embarrassing grammatical errors until it's time for your night shift. But today, Namjoon sits down across from you (because his work for today was over) and he asks what you're doing.

You spend the next two hours until your night shift explaining to Namjoon the intricacies of correct grammar. He seems to enjoy every minute of it. When you have to go back to work, Namjoon promises to see you tomorrow, which was Friday and wishes you the best on your night shift. You let out a dreamy sigh when he leaves.

How did you not notice such a great man like Namjoon was right in front of your face? Granted, it's only been a few weeks since he started working here, but still.

You're usually just a little bit tired (crazy, right? for such an energetic person like you) by the time you start your second shift, but you feel more energized than ever. By the time Jimin comes into the restaurant, you're serving the last customers and cleaning up the tables and pushing in the chairs.

"Hey!" you cry, rushing in to hug your friend. "How was the mid-term?"

"It was great!" Jimin beams. "You've been in a really good mood today, haven't you? The sun was out the whole day. Huh, and you're not fired, I see. Someone made you put on the uniform?"

"Yeah, Namjoon," you say dreamily. When Jimin makes a blank face, you clarify, "my manager."

"Oh? He wasn't mad?"

"No! He wasn't!" you giggle. "He asked me out on a date, Jimin! And then he told me to change into my uniform, but that's beside the point! We're supposed to meet on Sunday at the cafe next door at 2! This is my first date! You have to help me with what to wear!"

Jimin plasters on a giant grin for you, though his insides crumble. "That's great, Y/N! Maybe I can come over later and help you choose what to wear. Are you thinking of making it official? It sounds like you really like him..."

"I don't know yet," you hum. "But I know he's a great guy! You know how well I read people, right? He really likes Gilbert too! God, I think he's already gonna be my prince!"

Jimin nods. "Wow," he mumbles. "Do you know him very well?"

"Well, I know that his name is Kim Namjoon. And he's the day-time manager for The Black Dress," you say, furrowing your eyebrows as you try to think. "He has blonde hair... uh, he's tall and he likes to wear all black!"

"You don't know him very well, do you?" Jimin accuses, crossing his arms over his chest. "Y/N, how do you like him so much if you barely know him? Is it because he expressed interest in you? You can't just go liking people back just because they like you... You need to make judgments for yourself."

You pout, shaking your head. "It's not like that," you say. "And I made my judgment already! I like Kim Namjoon, Jimin. Besides, I will get to know him. Now, I'm gonna go close up the restaurant so sit tight, all right?"

Jimin nods, grumbling under his breath about how quickly you were moving on to like someone you barely gave a second look at. He does admit that he's a bit jealous... Who was this Kim Namjoon who just decided to waltz into your life and steal you away from him? Who was he to ask you out just based on physical attraction? Jimin can't believe you were falling for a guy you basically just met. But he does admit that you've always wanted some sort of fairytale romance. Is it too late for him to confess now?

"Why are you thinking so hard?" you giggle, making Jimin jump away from you from the suddenness. "I closed up the restaurant. Shall we go home?" You hold out your hand for Jimin to take, which he does after just a bit of hesitance.

"I was not thinking very hard," Jimin says.

"Oh, really?" you snort, swinging your intertwined hands back and forth. "You were thinking so hard, a vein popped out in your forehead! A penny for your thoughts?"

When you hold out an actual penny for him to take, Jimin laughs, shaking his head. You huff, putting the penny back in your pocket. "It was nothing, Y/N."

"Wow, I didn't know nothing made you think so hard you looked angry," you tease. "You can tell me anything, you know."

"Yeah, of course," Jimin sighs, squeezing your hand and struggling to hide his actual feelings.

Damn. If he could control the weather with his emotions, it would be raining right now.

Jimin knew you would never be one to put your dates over your friends. That fact was confirmed for him when even though you got Namjoon's phone number, you never texted him when you were hanging out with Jimin—which was practically all the time.

Your Friday movie night was a blast, as usual. The two of you cuddled up on the couch and completely lost it over a hysterical comedy. And the Saturday hangout was even better with the majestic water fountain show. When the two of you separated that night, you ended up FaceTiming in each of your houses. Like Jimin had promised, he helped you pick out a cute but modest outfit for tomorrow—something that enhanced your best features (which Jimin thought is everything) and something that would make it very obvious that green is your color. You went to bed smiling because you were excited about your date with Namjoon tomorrow. Jimin went to bed smiling because you were the last person he saw before going to bed.

On Sunday morning, Jimin woke up, texted you to have fun on your date and began to study for his advanced thermodynamics class, which was a whole fucking pain in the ass. He skipped lunch, got a snack around early evening and waited for you to come over while he watched some kitten Youtube videos.

You were supposed to be back from your date by 8 p.m. It is promptly 8:07 and Jimin begins to get a bit nervous. Should he text? Call? 8:07 is such an ambiguous time. If he calls now, he'll sound clingy, like he's trying to interrupt your date with Namjoon. Well, Jimin wouldn't mind doing that, but he doesn't want to hurt your feelings and burst your idealistic bubble. Perhaps he should wait.

You're always late to everything, anyways. If Jimin wasn't in your life, you would've been late to every single day of school from kindergarten to high school. Hell, if he hadn't banged on your door for you to come out on graduation day, you might've never graduated high school. Maybe Gilbert fell out of your flimsy dress pocket and you're looking for it? (It's happened before so it could surely happen again.)

Alas, the door of Jimin's small apartment swings open and you practically skip through, giggling and twirling around. "Sorry I'm late!" you say, rushing over to where Jimin was slouched on the couch and cuddling up next to him.

You smell faintly masculine. Jimin struggles not to make an unflattering face—that was no doubt Namjoon's cologne. He wonders what base Namjoon took you to tonight. Did you kiss him? Did you make out with him? Have... sex?

He shudders thinking about it.

No. That couldn't have happened. They were in public places the whole time. Unless...

He glances over at you who's stripping off your jewelry, socks and jacket. You're too busy tying up your hair into a messy bun to notice Jimin staring at your lips. Had Namjoon kissed you goodbye?

Jimin shames himself for having these thoughts. He should be happy for you. Besides, you weren't even that late. It's only 8:10.

"You wouldn't believe why I was like, ten minutes late," you giggle, stretching out your legs and sitting in an unflattering position that hikes your dress up to your mid-thigh. Jimin struggles not to look down.

"Really?" he asks. "What happened?"

You snort. "Okay, so—wait do you have my makeup remover wipes here? And can I borrow some sweats? I totally forgot to bring a change of clothes. Sorry!" you say.

Jimin nods. "Yeah, the wipes are in my bedroom where you last left them and um, you can find some of my t-shirts in the first drawer of the cabinet next to my bed."

"Okay, thanks, Jimin!" you giggle, quickly bouncing up from your spot. When you see that Jimin's still glued to his seat, you laugh. "I can't tell you the story when you're that far away from me! Get up! I'll tell you the story while I change."

Jimin flushes at the thought. "Y-Yeah, okay," he stutters. You tug him into his own bedroom, snatching the makeup wipes from the nightstand and beginning to wipe off your light makeup. Jimin sits down on his bed, cross-legged, attentively waiting for you to start your story.

"Okay, anyways, Joon—"

"Joon?"

"Yeah, it's like my little nickname for Namjoon, isn't it adorable? Where was I? Right!" you mutter to yourself as you furiously scrub off the remnants of your mascara. "We were coming out of the movie theater, right? I found out Gilbert wasn't in my pocket! And I was just about to turn around to tell Joon my misfortune but he was already facing me and yelling, 'I FORGOT MY PHONE!' "

You take a moment to skillfully aim the wipe into Jimin's trash bin, squealing when it goes in completely clean. Jimin claps politely for you.

"Thank you," you bow dramatically. "Oh yeah, where was I?" You begin to make your way towards Jimin's bedroom cabinet, pulling out the first drawer and inspecting your choices of nightwear and sticking your hand in the neatly folded clothes to rummage through and pick your poison. "So, naturally, Joon and I went back into the theater and—ooh, Jimin you have a few condoms in here! Are you getting it on these days?"

"Y/N!" Jimin shrieks, scrambling over and snatching the condom you were teasingly holding out before chucking it into his closet and slamming the door shut. "T-That's private."

"Oh, really?" you ask, wiggling your eyebrows. "Who's the lucky girl?"

"Come on, Y/N. I'm a virgin, you know that."

You raise your eyebrows. "It looks like you're tired of being one though," you tease.

Jimin can't look you in the eyes. His face burns with humiliation. He can't possibly explain why he had bought those condoms. Back when he was an undergraduate, he had been desperate to get over his feelings for you—so desperate, in fact, that he had purchased his first batch of contraceptives to have sex with other women and completely forget about you. But he never had the guts to try. How could he? When he was so hopefully in love with you that he couldn't imagine himself being sexually active with someone else. Er, not that he sees himself being sexually active with you. But—

I need to stop thinking about this.

"Aw, Jiminie," you coo. "It's okay to be a virgin," you say in your secret language as you sit down on the bed with one of Jimin's favorite black t-shirts in hand. Jimin believes you must've thought he was pissed off at you for teasing him about being inexperienced. "I'm a virgin too, right?" you say. "I'm waiting for my prince!"

Jimin breathes a sigh of relief. So you hadn't had sex with Namjoon tonight. For some reason, he feels much better after hearing that. "You know what, Y/N?" he smiles. "I'm waiting for my princess."

You smile so bright it lights up the room. "Good," you say. "Let's get married on the same day, then. A double wedding in a castle far, far away!" you place a dramatic hand over your forehead. "Now! Where was I for the hundredth time? Oh, yeah! Joon and I went back to the theater," you say, starting to unzip your dress.

Jimin's eyes turn wide and he quickly turns his back towards you, making you laugh.

"I'm not putting on a strip show," you giggle. "You don't have to be so embarrassed about it!"

"I-I, uh, I'll just give you some privacy. Tell me when you're done," Jimin manages to choke out.

"So gentlemanly. How do you not have a girlfriend yet?" you chuckle to yourself, sliding the sleeves of the dress of your shoulders and dragging the fabric off of your body. "Okay, okay, okay. I need to focus. Anyways, Joon and I went back into the movie theater and the first thing we did was to go back into the room where we watched the movie—great film, by the way—and we literally scrounged around everywhere for my poor Gilbert and Joon's phone! But to no avail! It was as if both of them disappeared!"

You toss your dress on the floor, unclip your bra and tug Jimin's shirt on in smooth motions.

"Jimin, you can look now," you say.

He turns around, ears slightly pink and eyes averted. Quickly, Jimin sits down on his bed, across from you. "You can continue your story," he offers.

You grin. "So, Joon was panicking at this point because he lost his phone. And I was about to burst into tears because I lost Gilbert, you know?"

Jimin nods in response.

"Yeah, so I figured I'd have to be late coming to your apartment because I can't just leave without Gilbert! When I reached into my purse to get my phone to tell you of my misfortune, guess what happened. Guess! Guess!"

Jimin pouts. "Can't you just tell me?"

You roll your eyes. "I was building the story up just so you could literally guess what happened with no problem," you huff. "Fine, then. I reached into my purse to get my phone and I pulled out Namjoon's instead! Turns out, before the movie, Joon was holding all the snacks and he dropped his phone. So, you know, I picked it up and couldn't give it back to him so I just put it in my purse!"

Jimin smiles. "And you forgot you put it in your purse?"

"Well, yeah!" you giggle. "I was so worried about Gilbert!"

"Did you find him?" Jimin asks.

You snort. "Is that even a question, Jimin? I wouldn't be this happy right now if I hadn't. You'd never guess where Gilbert was, Jimin."

"So there's no point in me trying, right?" he responds, teasingly. But when he sees your death glare, he sighs. "Fine. Was Gilbert in Namjoon's purse?"

"HA!" you exclaim. "Good one! But no, it was in my right pocket."

"Oh, Y/N," Jimin says, leaning back on his bed. "You only checked your left pocket before you declared Gilbert missing, huh?"

"Yessir!" you laugh. "Joon and I got a good laugh out of it. He told me I'm really silly! And, get this, he said I'm a natural!"

"Really?" Jimin says. "A natural at what?"

"Dating!" you squeal. "He told me I'm naturally cuddly and adorable and kissable and—god, my heart exploded in my chest!!!"

Kissable???

"But I told him I don't kiss on first dates—not that I've never been on another one... You know? Like you need to give them something to long for!" you laugh, spreading out on Jimin's bed while looking up at his ceiling. "I read that from a romance novel somewhere. And it worked! He asked me out on our second date during our first date! Am I amazing or what?"

"Oh, Y/N," Jimin sighs.

"Oh, Jimin," you mock right back. "Anyways, shall we go to bed early? My princess beauty sleep is waiting!" you sing, making your way to Jimin's bathroom. "I'm gonna wash up, okay?"

"All right," Jimin answers, getting up to turn off the lights of his room. He crawls back into his bed, waiting for you to join him. A few minutes later, you do, tucking yourself in on the left side of the bed and snuggling Jimin's blankets as you sigh out.

No matter how many times he's slept beside you, Jimin feels like his heart will beat out of his chest every time. It feels wrong, to sleep in the same bed as adults when you're in nothing but a platonic relationship with him. Yet something about it feels so right... And you've been doing it since you were kids and upholding tradition is pretty important to both of you.

Jimin double-checks to make sure he isn't pulling the blanket covers too hard. He doesn't want you left with anything to stay warm through the night.

"Goodnight, Jimin," you whisper.

"Goodnight, Y/N," he whispers back.

And he drifts off to sleep. Only in his dreams can his longing to be with you come true.

Jimin is always your priority. You have a lot of friends, but when it comes to who you're willing to spend the most time with, it's Jimin. And it's always been like that—since that one fateful day in kindergarten to now. Er, kind of.

These days, your priorities may have shifted just a tiny bit.

It's been like that ever since Namjoon took you out on that stupid fifth date, which was the date that marked the official start of your romantic relationship with him. Jimin had sulked in his bed that whole day when you'd first texted him the news. But later, he forced himself to get up and have a cup of coffee with you in the cafe next to your workplace. He feigned a smile for you and told you that Namjoon was one lucky man.

And he was.

Now that Namjoon is officially your boyfriend, Jimin had to share you with him. It's unfair. Jimin's known you for nearly two decades, but Kim Namjoon decided to waltz into your life one day and win you over in less than a month. What did Namjoon have that Jimin didn't??

But no matter how bitter your relationship with Namjoon made Jimin feel, he hid it away from you. Besides, you are practically glowing these days. Whatever Namjoon tells you makes you absolutely radiant. And Namjoon must be a good man because you come over to Jimin's apartment after every date happy and bubbly like it was your first. So he's definitely treating you right.

You don't get to spend as much time with Jimin anymore, too. Sometimes, Jimin asks if you're available for lunch or dinner but half the time you've already made reservations with your boyfriend. Yet you always make sure you see Jimin at least five days a week (two days less than what was before, but it's a small price Jimin's willing to pay for your heightened happiness).

Since your birthday is coming up, Jimin's been putting the finishing touches on your present—the one he's been preparing since the day after your last birthday. This year, you've already made him a short little flipbook (that you drew yourself) about the first time the two of you had first met for Jimin's birthday. The gift was rather nostalgic and it had almost made him cry. Jimin hopes the present he makes for you this year will make you cry. In a good way, of course.

You and Jimin share every single one of your birthdays. It's been an ongoing tradition since Jimin turned six before you did. This year is no different. You had to tell a very bummed Namjoon that you already made dinner reservations with your best friend so he'd had to give you your present when you ate lunch with him earlier that day.

Jimin doesn't really think Namjoon likes him that much. He always eyes Jimin with some sort of suspect as if Jimin was going to steal you away from him. Hmph. The feeling is reciprocal.

When you came to your favorite restaurant wearing your favorite green dress, Jimin had already ordered the food and was patiently waiting with his hand-made present.

"Hey!" you cry as you slide into the seat.

"Happy birthday, Y/N!" Jimin smiles. "You look great!"

"Right?" you giggle, tossing your perfectly curled hair over your shoulder. "I felt like for my 25th birthday, I'd have to wear something cute. I'm halfway to the fucking 50 years old, Jimin. I'm aging too quickly," you huff, crossing your arms over your shoulder. "Did you order already?"

"O-Oh, yeah," Jimin says. "Why? Did you want something different?"

"No, I just wanted to check if the menus had any grammatical errors," you laugh, shrugging. "Oh well, when we get dessert menus, I'll check out RM."

"RM?"

"Oh! It's part of the gift Joon gave me," you exclaim, pulling out a—

"Red marker?" Jimin scrunches his eyebrows. "For your birthday?"

You nod, placing the marker on your desk and rolling it towards Jimin so he can pick it up and examine it. Jimin does, scrutinizing the marker that was most definitely not as great as Gilbert.

"Well, Joon always saw that I was correcting grammatical errors with Gilbert and he thought that something red would be more emphatic, you know?" you explain, taking out Gilbert from your left pocket. "Of course I love Gilbert more, but I thought I'd give RM a try. Besides, Joon said red serves as the better color for correcting. He said the color itself brings alert to the problem and that green is too passive. I guess I can see that."

Jimin frowns. "But you like green because it's 'passive,' " Jimin sighs as he makes air quotes with his hands. "And it doesn't make the corrections seem as rude and aggressive."

"I know, Jimin," you smile. "I'll try RM out once and keep it on a shelf somewhere. Gilbert's not going anywhere. You know that. Besides, Joon was really insistent that I tried it out, you know? He was so thoughtful too! I think it's a great gift! And I think it's endearing that he named it RM for me. Did you know RM used to be his nickname when he was back in college and in an acapella group? The man can sing! What can he not do?" you gush.

"He named the marker after himself?" Jimin snorts. Typical.

"Well, yeah, I guess he did!" you laugh. "It's like I'm always carrying around a mini him!"

Bleh.

"Yeah," Jimin agrees without much heart. "Oh, wanna see what I got you for your birthday?" he asks, hoping to steer the conversation away from your boyfriend.

"OH MY GOD, YES!" you exclaim. "I've been waiting for this moment since my last birthday."

"Good," Jimin grins as he whips out a box with pretty, green wrapping. "Here."

You take it from him, shaking the box wildly and with wide, happy eyes. "It's kinda heavy!" you comment, beginning to rip the wrapping off. You skillfully force the box open with the butt of your fork. When you finally see your present, you gasp. "Oh, Jimin, you fucking didn't."

"I fucking did," Jimin smiles proudly. "Open it."

You carefully take a photo book out of the box, your eyes glued on the beautiful front cover. "God. I'm tearing up just looking at the front," you laugh. "Where'd you even get these photos?"

He shrugs, smiling. "Here and there, you know?"

Jimin had made sure the cover of the photo book would be littered with childhood photos he and you had taken when you were younger. The rest of the book is filled with little memories the two of you shared growing up with captions and comments underneath. There are a total of 392 photos in the book. And Jimin had spent seven months accumulating them—mostly from his father's old camera and Jimin's old Nokia phone he dug out from his garage. You'd always wanted a photo book, so Jimin thought it was time to gift you with one.

You're excitedly flipping through the pages, spending more time to stare at the more sentimental photos. Even when the food arrives, you can't put the book away. You're so distracted with Jimin's present that you don't even try to correct the grammar errors on the dessert menus. So Jimin grabs Gilbert and makes corrections himself. He puts the correct accents on crème brûlée and corrects a rather obvious spelling error. Then, he proceeds to order two strawberry cheesecakes. Surprisingly, even when the dessert arrives, you don't put the book down.

It's rare when something entrances you so much that you don't speak for long periods of time. You haven't spoken a single word to Jimin ever since you'd started flipping through the photo book, and Jimin finds that he doesn't mind at all. He loves watching how your face relaxes and contorts again as the memories of your childhood flood through you. The last photo in the book is the one your granny took of you and Jimin fighting over the last glazed donut when the two of you were in first grade. Spoiler alert: you'd won. But you had also felt bad after watching Jimin sulk so you'd broken the donut in half and handed a piece to your best friend.

When you finally catch sight of the last photo, you gasp, putting a hand over your lips.

"Granny," you whisper. "She took this photo. I remember..."

You're practically clouded with nostalgia and Jimin swears he sees tears welling up in your eyes. But you won't cry over something as simple as this. It's the fact that you loved his gift so much that you almost cried that counts.

"Gosh... Jimin," you breathe, fanning your eyes. "I'm not crying, by the way. Something's in my eye, I don't know," you mumble.

Jimin grins.

"I don't even know what to say, Jimin. I love it. I'll cherish it forever. Thank you. God, it's perfect," you say. "Wow. You're leaving me speechless, Jimin. And it's very hard to shut me up. You're something special."

Jimin practically beams. All the time and effort he'd spent on your birthday gift had really paid off. He loves seeing you so happy that you can't even describe what you're feeling in words.

You carefully shut the photo book, setting it off to the side before staring right into Jimin's eyes. "I would totally fucking say I love you right now but I don't think Joon would appreciate it."

"What?" Jimin breathes as his heart flutters in his chest. "But he's not here right now."

"He doesn't like it when I do 'romantic' things with you," you sigh as you lean back. "We had a long discussion about it a few days ago."

"Romantic things?" Jimin makes a face. "What the hell is he talking about?"

"Oh, it's not a big deal!" you exclaim, waving your hands. "He just thinks, well, he thinks that some of the stuff that I do with you... um, is not really, uh, platonic."

Ah. Jimin sees where you're going with this. And now it's obvious why Joon always looks at him so suspiciously—Namjoon feels threatened by Jimin.

"How so?" Jimin asks but he already knows the answer.

"Like um, he doesn't like it when I sleep over at your place, you know?" you say, fidgeting in your seat. "And he really put his foot down when I told him we sometimes share a bed. He said I shouldn't really do that with you anymore."

Jimin understands where Namjoon is coming from. But at the same time, he feels as if Namjoon had violated his rights. His rights to be with you.

"I can't hold hands with you either," you say, looking down at your uneaten strawberry cheesecake. "I'm so sorry, Jimin. I know we've been doing it for so long and I swear, I didn't know it was strictly a relationship thing. But apparently it is, and it made Joon uncomfortable that we were holding hands when I'm really dating him and just—" you stop yourself from rambling, sighing as you take a sip of your ice water. "And I really love him, Jimin," you whisper. "I don't want to lose him."

"You love him already?" Jimin says with a slight tremor in his voice that you completely look over. "It's only been a month, Y/N."

"Love has nothing to do with time," you smile wistfully. "He's my prince, Jimin. If I let him go, he'll find someone else."

Jimin's silent, unable to think of anything to say that wouldn't hurt your feelings.

You take his silence as a bad sign. "Jimin, I didn't want to break all of this to you on a celebration night but I felt like you deserved to know earlier," you say in your secret language. "I'm sorry. It was all part of our tradition too."

"It's fine," Jimin sighs. But it's really not. Yet Jimin hides his pain by shoving a forkful of cake into his mouth. He chews slowly, swallows. "What Joon's suggesting is pretty justified. Don't worry about it."

The rest of your birthday dinner is somewhat awkward. Of course, you try to save the mood by cracking a few jokes here and there, but Jimin finds it hard to laugh. It's the worst birthday he's ever celebrated with you.

You and Joon have only started dating for a month, but so much as changed already. Jimin doesn't even want to think of the drastic changes that might follow as your relationship with your 'prince' deepens and blossoms into something even more serious.

When Jimin arrives at your home to walk you to work on a Monday morning, he does a double-take because he finds you already waiting outside, shivering from the chilly air in nothing but your plain work uniform. Never in the twenty years that he's known you have you ever been on your doorstep before him.

"Y/N?" Jimin asks, bewildered. "What happened?"

"Hey!" you exclaim, waving at your best friend enthusiastically. "Nothing happened. I'm just trying to get into the habit of being early. It's not a good habit to be late all the time."

"Your face is red, Y/N!" Jimin says, shrugging his thick coat off and handing it to you and you take it gratefully. "How long have you been waiting?"

"Eh, just a few minutes," you say, sniffling your runny nose and grinning. "I'm as red as RM! Besides, the sun's shining. You know what that means? I'm fine."

Jimin shakes his head. "You should've waited inside. I'm okay with waiting. I've done it for twenty years so I wouldn't mind doing it for more."

"Joon told me I should get into the habit of being early," you giggle. "I've been late to every single one of our dates so far, you know?"

"Well, you've been late to every single one of our hangouts but I never said anything," Jimin scoffs.

"It's different with you," you say, smiling.

How? Jimin so desperately wants to ask. But he's afraid of your answer.

You wrap Jimin's black coat tighter around yourself as you skip down the porch steps. "C'mon! I wanna get to work super early!"

It takes only a week later for Jimin to realize you like going to work early because your boyfriend's already there, waiting for you.

You've been with Namjoon for about three months now, and the effects are starting to impact Jimin's life rather largely. For starters, you're spending way less time with him than before. The daily routines you had established with him for years are broken as you mold your lifestyle in the way that Namjoon wants you to. Jimin hates change more than anything. You should know that.

And you do. You apologize profusely—any chance you get—about the little changes in his lifestyle because of you; Jimin never blames you, though.

When you missed his grad school graduation because Namjoon bought you expensive vacation tickets to an acclaimed resort in Hawaii, Jimin didn't blame you.

It was Namjoon who had bought the tickets and it was Namjoon who told you the trip wasn't refundable. It was Namjoon who wanted to take you away from Jimin for a week. You promised you would FaceTime him.

And you're the best promise-keeper in the world.

"How is it there?" Jimin asks in the secret language as he lounges on his couch. "Is the weather nice?"

"It's beautiful!" you exclaim, moving out of the screen to show Jimin the sparkling blue-green oceans behind you. "We went snorkeling a few hours ago and we just had lunch so we're waiting to digest our food before we dive in again! I wish you were here," you pout. "I'm sorry I missed your graduation, by the way. Was your father there?"

"Yeah, he was. Don't worry about that," Jimin says. "I'm glad you're having fun."

"Aw, thanks!" you giggle. "Joon really outdid himself with all of this. Oh, how's your job status, by the way?"

"I got the job," Jimin smiles. "I didn't go through with those extra few years of school for nothing."

"HA!" you snort. "If I actually went to college, I would've been kicked out for literally failing every class. Remember when I got a 32% on that physics test? God, I hated Mr. Chung. Look at that! After all of these years, I still remember his goddamn name!"

Jimin shakes from laughter. "Of course I remember! Mr. Chung told me to tutor you or something."

"And then you told Mr. Chung that—"

"Baby?" Namjoon calls off-screen, interrupting you mid-sentence.

You turn around to look at him. "Yeah, babe? Oh, wait, sorry. I mean, yeah, babe?"

Jimin can hear Namjoon sighing. "Baby, can you please, refrain from using that secret language of yours in public?" he whispers. "I'm so sorry, but it sounds a bit like a chicken is being repeatedly run over by a car and people are starting to stare."

Jimin's about to give Namjoon a piece of his mind when you cut in before him.

"Aw, I'm sorry Joon," you giggle. "I made the language when I was really young. Explains a lot, doesn't it? Sorry, Jimin," you tell the camera. "I guess we'll have to stop our encrypted conversation."

"And baby?" Namjoon calls. "We're on vacation! Technology should be off when we have such beautiful scenery around us."

Jimin grits his teeth.

"Right!" you laugh. "Silly me. Sorry, Jimin," you say again, not even looking into the camera this time. "I have to go! I'll talk to you later, okay? Bye!"

Before Jimin can even answer, you end the call. Jimin's left staring right back at his own frustrated face. He chucks his phone across his couch and covers his face with his hands.

At first, Jimin didn't like Namjoon because he was jealous. But now, it's come to more than that. Namjoon's been trying to change the little quirks and habits that made you, you; he's trying to mold you into the same society you rebelled against for all of your life. He's trying to take you away from Jimin. He's trying to strip you of everything you were before you met him.

But what can Jimin do about it?

You're too head over heels in love with this Kim Namjoon. That man is the self-proclaimed prince to your princess. Jimin can't help but think he's the ogre. A handsome, successful ogre who strikes slowly, so slowly that the damage cannot be detected until it's too late.

If Jimin tries to warn you about Namjoon and his dubious intentions, you might not believe him and hate Jimin for life. If Jimin says nothing, he might not be able to recognize you in a few years' time at the rate the changes are happening now.

Jimin doesn't know what to do. He hates confrontations—that had always been your job, not his. So he does what he always does: nothing.

Being with you every day is a mystery. You have something new up your sleeve every single day without fail. Whether it be a new fashion style or a new gadget you made, you're always flaunting something that others wouldn't dare flaunt. And that's what made you so special.

But the crazy color schemes that had once been in your closet have been reduced to dark, muted colors. The Halloween costumes you kept every year to wear as everyday clothes were sitting on a rack in some Goodwill store. You dressed... plainly now.

Of course, there is nothing wrong with that. It's just not you. It is Namjoon though. Besides from Jimin, Namjoon is the plainest man he knows. And so far, switching out your wardrobe was definitely not your idea, though you seem to believe it is. That Kim Namjoon. He's planting these stupid ideas in your head and you're absorbing them like a sponge, too kind and docile and a bit too naive to disagree with your boyfriend.

Jimin's heard the way you talk about him. Your eyes gloss over with complete adoration and you giggle at everything Namjoon does. You're madly in love with him, and Jimin can't do anything about it except watch.

But no matter how many of your habits and physical lifestyle Namjoon can change, he can't touch your personality. You're the same girl Jimin's known and loved for years and years of his life. And he's not going to let you go anytime soon.

"JIMIN!!!" you yell, almost knocking your friend over by hugging him the moment you open your apartment door to see his face. "You're two minutes late!" you pout as you drag him over in front of your television. "I already picked a movie!"

Jimin can't deny Friday movie nights with you is the only thing he looks forward to these days. Though you don't cuddle with him on the couch anymore, you like to lean against his shoulder. And that's enough contact for Jimin to be satisfied.

"Really?" Jimin grins. "What movie?"

"Interstellar!" you say, collapsing on your couch as you aggressively pat the empty seat next to you. "Hurry up! Hurry up! I'm excited!"

"Y/N? Are you sure?" Jimin asks as he sits down next to you with a confused look on his face. Usually, when you choose a movie, you always end up reverting back to your classic favorite Disney princess films. "I know you don't really like sci-fi..."

"Yeah, but I told Namjoon I already watched that movie, but I haven't. So now I need to watch it," you explain quickly. "You like sci-fi, though, so you can explain all the things I don't get! Which would be half of the movie."

There Namjoon goes again. Making you watch movies that literally lull you to sleep.

"Okay," Jimin sighs. He doesn't have the guts to tell you that he's watched this movie hundreds of times.

By the time the roll credits are playing on the screen, you're completely knocked out. Well, you've been knocked out since the first twenty minutes of the film. Jimin's been watching you sleep for the rest of the two hours and thirty minutes of the film. (Not in a creepy way—an endearing way.) He had to stop himself multiple times from reaching out and tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear and away from your face.

God. Jimin needs a drink of water. Is it just him or is the room getting hotter?

He stands up slowly and quietly, making sure he wouldn't disturb your peaceful beauty sleep. Jimin's known your home since he was five; he could walk blindfolded to the kitchen if someone made him. He finds refuge near your water dispenser, fanning his face and taking his own cup from the cupboard. Your granny had bought that blue cup for him years ago, gifting you with a separate green cup. It's the only cup you use at home.

Jimin fills his cup with water, downing all of it in one large gulp. The water helps him cool off just a tad bit. He moves to place his used cup in the sink, his eyes habitually glancing over at your trash can.

You never remember to put a plastic bag inside it, which makes the gross remnants of your waste stick to your trash can. And Jimin can definitely say that that stench is horrendous. Jimin sighs as he finds an empty Walmart plastic bag rolling around your kitchen. He approaches the trash can, holding his breath just in case. But when he checks inside, there is nothing in it except for—

"GILBERT?" Jimin gasps loudly.

"JIMIN?!" you shriek. There's a resounding thud in the living room and a small "oof," from you as you lay sprawled on the floor.

"Y/N!" Jimin yells.

You dash over to your kitchen, rubbing your eyes and trying to adjust to the bright kitchen lights. "Jimin?" you say, your brows furrowed as you approach your friend who's pointing aggressively at your trash can with wide, angry eyes. "Oh," you say softly when you realize what he's talking about. "Right..."

"Why is Gilbert in the trash, Y/N?" Jimin asks, running his fingers through his hair as he grips the kitchen counter for stability. "Was it Namjoon? Did he do this?"

"No!" you shout. "I did it, Jimin. I tossed Gilbert in the trash."

"Why?" Jimin whispers, taking a step away from you. "That marker's everything to you."

"I know, Jimin, I know," you groan. "It dried out. It's ages old, you know?"

"But you take such good care of it, Y/N." Jimin shakes his head. "And you're just tossing it away like that because it dried out? What about your grandfather? What about your granny?"

"Jimin, it's fine. I'm fine," you say, shrugging. "It's time I let go, you know?

"Let go of what, Y/N? The only family you've known?" Jimin sighs. "What happened to saving the world by correcting their grammatical errors?"

"Its," you reply.

"What?" Jimin says exasperatedly.

"Saving the world by correcting its grammatical errors," you say, a slow smile emerging on your face as Jimin shakes his head to hide his own grin beginning to manifest on his face. "I'm sorry, Jimin. You're right. I don't know what I was thinking," you say. "Well, I wasn't. Joon and I had our first fight today."

"Oh..."

"No, don't you 'oh' me, Park Jimin!" you laugh. "It's really not that bad! He told me I had a premature taste in films and an immature outlook on life, but I mean, he's not wrong, you know? I tried to stay awake watching Interstellar. I really did. But Joon's right. I can't like anything that's advanced. And I realized that it's a crime to vandalize, too..."

"So you threw Gilbert away because of that?"

"Well, yeah," you say. "It's a crime, Jimin. I didn't even know until Joon told me! He's so wise!"

"Oh, god," Jimin groans, burying his face in his hands.

"Ah, c'mon, Jiminie," you say, grabbing his wrists and trying to pry his hands away from his face. "He's helping me move on, you know? He's helping me become a better person!"

A better person.

The words sting. If your definition of a 'better person' is losing the spark, the color of your life, then fine. You were already a better person than before. But all Jimin can see is the monochrome you. The you without color. Which doesn't really seem like you at all.

But it hasn't rained in a while, so maybe you were truly fine with losing your color. Either that or you had also lost the ability to control the weather with your emotions. Jimin wouldn't be surprised if that were the case.

Jimin is a patient man. Not only has he waited twenty years for you to love him back (which you never did), but also he never outwardly expressed his frustrations with your change in lifestyle to you.

Besides, if Namjoon's making you that happy, then there really was no problem, right?

Wrong.

You call Jimin on Sunday with the worst news ever imaginable.

"I'm moving!" you squeal and Jimin can hear you jumping up and down on your bed from the other line. "Joon asked me to move in with him!!"

You've only dated him for four months.

"H-He did?" Jimin stutters, cursing himself for sounding so pathetically off-guard. "What about your home? Your granny's home?"

You've lived in that house ever since you were born until now.

"I can't live in that house, forever, Jimin. I want to move on!" you say. "Plus, I think Joon and I are ready to take our relationship to the next level!"

"That's ridiculous," Jimin mutters, raking his fingers through his hair in pure frustration.

"Sorry?" you say.

Shit. Jimin had forgotten you were still on the phone.

"Nevermind," he sighs.

"Jiminie," you say with that characteristic lilt in your voice. "You can tell me what you're thinking you know! I haven't been your ride or die best friend for twenty years to not know what's going on with you."

"I know," Jimin says. But he can't tell you that he absolutely despises your boyfriend. It'll break your heart. And Jimin doesn't want to be the reason for your unhappiness. "Congratulations, Y/N," he says. "I hope you like your new place, then."

"I love it, Jimin!" you squeal. "Joon remodeled his bedroom recently and damn it's just so beautiful! I'll finally be living in a castle with my prince!"

"That's great, Y/N!"

"I know, right?" you exclaim in such a voice that Jimin can tell you're absolutely beaming on the other line. "You have to come over when the move's finished! You know what? Come over this Friday for movie night! I wanna give you a tour of my new home!"

"Namjoon won't mind?" Jimin asks.

"He's going out with friends that night," you giggle. "We'll have the whole place to ourselves! Did you know Joon has a flat-screen TV?? It's humongous!"

The offer sounds very tempting. Watching a movie on a high-end television with you on a Friday night? Hell yes. It almost makes up for the fact that you're moving out of the house you and Jimin had practically grown up in.

God, Jimin can't wait for Friday to come.

It's Jimin's turn to choose the movie when Friday night finally rolls around. Since he knows you nearly idolize Rapunzel, he suggests the two of you rewatch Tangled for probably the millionth time. But before the movie had to come the house tour, of course.

Namjoon's home is rather spacious for a guy who was single for a long time. You parade around the home as you've already lived in it your whole life. Jimin silently tags along. He has to admit that Namjoon's home is, indeed, better than your granny's old house. But he nearly bursts with jealousy when you show him around the big bedroom that you supposedly share with Namjoon.

"Isn't it great?!" you say, twirling around the commodious room with a bright grin on your face. "Joon even bought new sheets for us! I wanted green and he wanted white, so we went with light gray," you giggle. "Compromise of the century, huh?"

"Still looks white to me," Jimin mutters under his breath. But you're so hyped about showing your best friend around your boyfriend's home that you don't hear him.

"C'mon, let's go watch Tangled, now!" you say, dragging Jimin back to Namjoon's expensive leather couch and switching on the flat-screen TV.

Both of you collapse on the couch, leaning against each other by habit as the movie begins to play on the screen. Jimin's watched the film with you so many times that he's basically memorized the whole script.

You like to silently mouth Rapunzel's lines and Jimin mouths Eugene Fitzherbert's lines. You also like to sing when Rapunzel does, and you've been trying to convince Jimin for years to sing with you. But Jimin does not sing. And that was that.

No matter how many times you've watched Tangled, you cry when Eugene Fitzherbert 'dies.' Before you were dating Namjoon, you'd always bury yourself in Jimin's arms, waiting until the climax of the scene is over. Nowadays, you limit yourself to placing your head on Jimin's shoulder, burying your face in Namjoon's couch pillows. Jimin doesn't mind. He likes that you take comfort in his presence.

Just as the tension of the scene is about to lift, the front door of the house opens and Namjoon walks in. But you're so engrossed in the movie that you barely notice, instead, digging your face harder into the pillow.

Jimin's head jerks towards Namjoon and their eyes meet. Namjoon doesn't look very happy. For just a split second, Jimin fears his life. He takes the time to scoot a bit away from you so Namjoon doesn't come for his neck. You whine when Jimin pulls away, trying to tug him back as your eyes are glued to the TV.

"Y/N..." Jimin whispers. "Your boyfriend's here."

"Oh, what?!" you say, breaking from the trance that the movie had put on you and finally turning your head to see a frowning Namjoon. "Joon! You came back so early!"

"Why is he here?" Namjoon asks, ignoring your enthusiasm. He doesn't look at you when he speaks, his eyes trained on Jimin, instead. Jimin gulps.

"It's Friday movie night!" you laugh. "We're watching Tangled! Oh, Jimin can you pause the movie? Damn, we'll have to rewind it. Wanna watch with us?"

"No, Jimin," Namjoon says through gritted teeth. "Turn the TV off. Y/N, this is not your home. It is ours. You're to tell me if you are to have guests over." He glares at Jimin again. "Then we can talk if they are welcome here or not."

"I-I, uh, I have to go," Jimin stutters, desperately, standing up from the couch.

"But we didn't even finish the movie!" you protest, grabbing Jimin's wrist and looking at him with puppy dog eyes. "We always finish the movie."

"Y/N, we need to talk. Let him go," Namjoon says, crossing his arms.

"I—" you sigh, letting go of Jimin's wrist. "Okay..."

It hurts to watch you look down at your feet like Namjoon was scolding you. You look so small, powerless up against him that just for one, small second, Jimin contemplates staying. Maybe give Kim Namjoon a piece of his mind.

But who is he kidding? Jimin could never compare himself to a man like Namjoon.

"I'll uh, talk to you later," Jimin quickly says. He doesn't look back when he leaves and you watch him go with a certain emptiness in your heart.

The moment Jimin's out the door, he runs. He runs from your boyfriend, your obvious pain... He runs away from himself. But he should know. No one can outrun cowardliness.

You're really the only significant figure in his life; the only person he's loved for twenty consecutive years. Yet he can't do anything to save you from the obvious monster that is your boyfriend. Jimin hates himself for that.

He crash-lands on his bed, burying himself in his pillows and drowning in self-hatred. He lays still for what seems like hours in the darkness, the silence. He tries to numb his thoughts. But when his vision is nothing but a black screen, he cannot do anything but think.

He thinks of the fight you might be having with Namjoon. He thinks of how sad you must be inside. He wonders if you genuinely like being with Namjoon. He wonders if you're genuinely happy. But most of all, he wants to know if you miss your old self.

Jimin groans when he hears his phone ring next to him. He doesn't want to get up nor move, but something inside tells him that it's important. That it might be you.

And it is.

Hurriedly, Jimin answers the call. "Y/N?"

"H-Hey, J-Jimin," you wheeze.

Jimin freezes. You're crying. And everyone knows you don't cry.

"Y/N?!" Jimin panics, sitting up. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"Of course I'm okay!" you yell, making Jimin wince at the harshness of your voice in his ear. "Joon and I just fought! I'm fine!" you sniffle. "You said to talk to you later so I'm calling you!" you try to laugh but it comes out like a broken sob. "I'm not crying, I swear!"

Bullshit.

This is the third time Jimin's heard you cry. The first two times had been because of your granny. This time? It was because of that bastard, Namjoon.

"Did he do anything to you?" Jimin says, his hands slightly shaking as he waits for an answer.

"No! Joon would never," you say. "We just talked. You don't have to worry, Jimin."

"He looked angry when I left..."

"He was..." you sigh. "Listen, Jimin... this is going to sound bad, but um... Joon... He, well, he doesn't want you coming over anymore."

"What?!" Jimin blurts out. "At all?"

"It's okay! It's okay!" you say, though you sound far from it. "I can always come over to your house!" You sigh deeply. "It's just that I don't think Joon's very comfortable around you."

No, he's just not comfortable when I'm around you.

"This is ridiculous," Jimin mutters.

"Sorry, Jimin, what did you say?" you ask. "I didn't hear."

Jimin closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. He tries to stay calm, tries to keep from bursting out and yelling, but he can't help himself. It had to be said. "It's fucking ridiculous!" he shouts suddenly, standing up and starting to pace back and forth in his room with a crazed look on his face. "He's being fucking ridiculous!" he yells.

"Him? You mean Joon?" you say.

"Yeah!" Jimin throws up his hand in frustration. "He's acting like he fucking owns you!" Jimin snaps.

God. He's done it now. There's no going back.

"He's not, though!" you protest. "Don't get mad, Jimin. He's only voicing his rightful opinion. There's nothing wrong with that."

"He's trying to separate us!" Jimin yells. "Don't you get it?"

"No!" you say, starting to raise your voice. "Joon wouldn't do that!"

"Like he wouldn't fucking convince you to throw away Gilbert? Like he wouldn't convince you to clean out your closet and replace it with clothes that he finds sensible? Like he wouldn't fucking convince you to keep your distance from me?? He wouldn't fucking do any of these, huh?" Jimin shouts, his voice interlaced with anger and sorrow. His throat feels raw in his neck, but he continues on with the thoughts he's held in for months. "You're blind, Y/N! He's ruining your fucking life can't you see? Where's the Y/N who used to talk to me for hours before going to sleep in our secret language? When's the last time you've spoken that, huh? And when's the last time you pretended to control the weather with your emotions? Where's the real Y/N? What happened to her?"

"Joon doesn't like her!" you yell at the top of your lungs. Your voice rings in Jimin's ear.

"Why do you want Joon to like you? What are you trying to prove to him?" Jimin cries, his voice quivering.

"I'm following my path to love!" you shout. "It's something you'd never understand. You don't even know what that is! I've never, ever seen you pine for anyone in the fucking twenty years I've known you! You can't be talking about love if you've never fucking felt it!"

Jimin collapses on his bed, his head numb and hands cold.

You take his silence as defeat. "I fucking thought so," you say. "Joon says you're too dependent on me. You need to go out and make another friend other than me. The world changes, Jimin. People come and go. Stop being just so—just so fucking stuck in the past. Goodbye."

You don't wait for a response, ending the call right away.

Jimin's phone slips from his ear, falling face down on his bed. He's frozen into shock. If only you knew why he had never chased after love for twenty fucking years. He didn't need to. Because his love was right in front of his face the whole time.

Aside from the occasional bickering as kids, you and Jimin had never fought. This is the first time both of you had exchanged nasty words with each other.

You had used to call Jimin a peaceful soul because of his extreme hate for confrontations, unnecessary drama and fighting. Not once in his life had Jimin ever said something that he knew could damage something significant to him. Not once in his life had Jimin ever initiated an argument. Not once in his life had Jimin ever really argued, in fact. It had always been you yelling and Jimin nodding if anything.

But when things had stacked up, Jimin couldn't take it anymore. He'd cracked. He'd yelled. And he'd finally fought with his words.

Yet the fight doesn't symbolize anything except a double loss for Jimin because you had ultimately chosen Namjoon over him. Then, you'd proceeded to completely crush his heart by failing to recognize his love for you.

Jimin never had to worry about heartbreak. He and you had always been best friends, nothing more. No matter how much he loved you, he never acted upon it, which meant you never rejected him. So, yeah, no heartbreak.

But this... that fight... When you'd accused him of not knowing love... when he had loved you for years. That was heartbreak. And it is still heartbreak.

Jimin found it extremely hard to get out of bed every morning after the fight. Sometimes, throughout the day, when something even the slightest bit amusing happens, he whips out his phone to inform you of it. Then, he realizes he and you are not quite on speaking terms at the moment. Jimin also realizes if he can't text you, he has no one else to text.

Maybe you were right. Jimin needs more friends.

It's almost been a week since the fight on the phone; it has also been almost a week of constant rain. It pours down hard and steady, only slowing down for light drizzles in the afternoons. It's the only reassurance that Jimin can get. That you're just as sad as him. That some part of you misses him as much as he misses you.

The weather forecast said the rain was supposed to clear by tonight. But Jimin waits by his window, where the thunder clouds boom over the roof of his lonely house and the rain pounds against the concrete. It's a storm.

He worries about you.

Maybe he should text you? Call you? What if you're all alone in your room, crying profusely and that bastard of a boyfriend, Namjoon's giving you the silent treatment? It's like Jimin can feel your pain through the weather.

A lightning bolt flashes through the sky and four seconds later, Jimin hears the booming thunderclap. It wasn't supposed to rain today. You must be crying all alone. You must be missing your granny. You must be missing him.

Another sharp thunderbolt pierces through the dark rain clouds in the sky and the thunderclap rings louder than the last. That's it. Jimin picks up his phone.

It's sad that you're still the only person in his favorites contact 'list.' He taps on your icon and presses the phone against his ear, looking out the window as if you were out in the rain all by yourself. The phone rings. Once. Twice. Three times. Usually, by then, you pick up the phone. But it occurs to Jimin now, that this is not going to be a usual conversation. His phone is heavy in his hands and he rests his cheek against the cold window, wondering if you're ever going to pick up.

Maybe you're crying so hard that you can't hear your phone ring.

Jimin lets out a shaky sigh, just about to disconnect the call to avoid hearing the all-too painful dial tone when you finally pick up.

"J-Jimin?" you breathe, groaning. "God, Jimin."

"Y/N?" Jimin exclaims. "Thank god, Y/N!" he breathes a sigh of relief.

"Mmm," you groan again.

"That's right, princess. You're mine all right?" a hushed, masculine voice whispers.

"Joon," you whine, urgently. "Please..."

Jimin can hear the soft slapping of skin in the background, Namjoon's heavy grunts and your whimpering. Immediately, the hairs on the back of Jimin's neck stand up straight. It's then when he realizes that you're moaning from pleasure. That Kim Namjoon's fucking you right now. And that you had still decided to pick up Jimin's call.

Tears blur Jimin's sight as he fumbles to end the call, chucking his phone halfway across the room afterward. He crumbles up in a ball, digging his face into his arms and sobbing.

Did you disrespect him that much? To pick up the call so he could hear you having sex?

It's the first time Jimin's ever questioned why he's in love with you.

Maybe, in the beginning, he had good reasons, but that had been because you had good intentions. You had been boisterous, unafraid to go against the current, wild, rebellious and had this my-way-or-the-high-way kind of character. That's the person Jimin had fallen in love with. The girl who carried around a green marker in her pockets to correct others' grammatical errors. The girl who invented a secret language when she was young just because she felt like it one day. The girl who convinced herself and others that she could control the weather with her emotions. The girl who didn't give two shits about what anyone thought of her. The girl who wore whatever the fuck she wanted because she could. The girl who never showed him when she was sad because she wanted to be strong, resilient. That's the person Jimin had fallen in love with.

But who the fuck are you?

Jimin had used to think it was Namjoon's fault you were so different. But you'd let him change you. You'd become docile, tedious, plain. All the things Jimin was and is. It's your fault. You could've stopped everything if you wanted. You could've broken up with Namjoon. But you didn't. Because you wanted to change.

Jimin can't love the new you. He doesn't even know if he can see you again.

His body shakes hard with fear and rage.

He's definitely not going to see you again.

He was never your prince; you'd ultimately chosen Namjoon. And you were never his princess; he had been delusional to think so.

He's going to walk out of your life. He needs to leave. For himself.

Jimin had already spent a week without your company and that had been enough. Now he wants to cut off all contact with you. He's already blocked your number, switched apartments and stashed away everything that reminded him of you—which was fairly a lot of things. He was so determined to be independent, to forget what it felt like to be dependent on you.

But without your presence, his bland life was even blander than before.

Waking up every day and not walking you to work felt foreign to him. Friday nights felt lonely without you. Weekends were dull. Weekdays were even worse.

He missed having to hear your bright, cheery voice. He missed talking about the craziest things with you. He missed waking up in the morning and wondering what you would be wearing today. He missed Gilbert. He missed your granny, too. Most of all, he missed you.

But you'd hurt him. Whittled away his heart little by little over the many years just by never loving him back. You'd humiliated him by choosing the man you knew for four months over the man you'd been best friends with for two decades.

Jimin figures he'll miss you for a long time. You'd been a large part of his life, after all. He'd already broken off contact with you, and that was already a giant leap. The next step would be to stop thinking about you, and the step after that to stop missing you. And when that's all over, he can stop loving you.

Looking back, Jimin realizes he struggled to get his life back on track for nearly eleven, long months. He'd seen winter come, spring pass and summer leave. But just as winter was making its presence on the weather again, frosting the leaves of plants and chilling the morning air, he'd finally come to his senses.

The past eleven months had been mournful. But as the days passed, he'd allowed himself to think about his current life more than his past. It had occurred to him that now, he was living a life of no-nonsense. Of no silly, childish imaginations. He was living in reality. Where he should've been in for all of his life.

Sure, he spent his birthday alone and without you for the first time since he was five years old. But it was something he could get used to. Celebrating the day he turned one year older just didn't seem like such a big deal anymore.

Maturity suits Park Jimin well.

He'd always preferred things that were tangible, anyway. Things that could be proven. Things that made sense. It was time to say goodbye to the foolish things of his past: secret languages, weather-controlling, naming markers...

It took him eleven months, no, 25 years, but Jimin finally became an adult.

He's 27, now.

He likes to drink black coffee in the morning like his co-workers. He likes vanilla ice cream the best just because it's the most simple. He likes to tell women that he's a civil engineer to impress them on first dates. He has an adequate number of friends. He goes to work five days a week, eight hours per day. He drinks on Friday nights, watches the news and goes to bed early. On the weekends, he spends his mornings reading articles in the science section of the paper and he hangs around bars at night with his friends.

It's a humble, normal, plain life. But Jimin likes it. It suits him.

He has thoughts about you from time to time; he would never forget what it felt like to love you. But he never again gets the urge to call you. You're a figment of his past, and Jimin's moved on.

The early spring breeze caresses Jimin's cheek as he walks steadily, staring at Google Maps on his phone and glancing up every once in a while so he doesn't run into a pole like last time. He was supposed to have a Sunday brunch with Jeon Jungkook but that silly bastard had canceled last minute on him to take his own girlfriend out on a date. Typical. But Jimin actually appreciates the alone time.

Jungkook had promised to take Jimin to a great cafe that was walking distance from Jimin's place. Since Jimin had nothing better to do, he decided to have his brunch there alone.

"You've arrived at your destination," the monotone voice named Karen drolls.

When Jimin looks up, he sees a small cafe sitting at the corner of the block, surrounded by towering trees shading the area and lots and lots of verdant green bushes. Something about the place seems homely. Familiar, even.

Deja vu, maybe? Jimin thinks.

He doesn't think much more and walks in. The inside of the cafe is decorated mainly with wood, green yarn and healthy vines twisting around the furniture. Jimin's hit by a cordial, oaky smell that instantly calms his nerves and clears his mind. The place is completely empty, too. His footsteps pad against the wooden floor as he admires the little cafe. The ordering counter stands in the corner, fairy lights and green paper lanterns dangling from it to illuminate its surroundings. Jimin walks towards the lights as if he were in a trance.

Something about this place seems so damn familiar.

Jimin hasn't felt this connected with nature, with this much creative liberty since—

"Jimin."

He whirls around, eyes widening and mouth dropping open when he recognizes the owner of that voice. Sure enough, he sees you, wiping your hands on a bright green waist apron. You're wearing a white pirate blouse that could've passed for a Halloween costume and a skirt with layers and layers of different shades of green fabrics—it looks like you'd made it yourself.

"Y/N," your name leaves his lips in a breathless whisper.

"Hey," you smile, waving awkwardly. "It's been a while, huh?"

A while? Two whole fucking years, in actuality. "Yeah, I guess," Jimin nods. He glances at the door, contemplating just leaving, but some instinct inside of him urges him to stay. "You work at this place?" he asks as he walks up to the counter where you're getting ready to take his order.

"Yeah," you giggle. God, Jimin had missed that smile of yours, but of course, he doesn't want to admit it. "Well, I own this place."

"Really?" Jimin asks. "It's beautiful."

"Thanks!" you say. "I decorated it myself. What can I get for you? Do you want me to recommend our best dishes? Look, we have a separate menu just for brunches!" you say excitedly, showing Jimin a neatly laminated menu laced with green yarn. "I recommend the Gilbert Special. Eggs, toast, bacon and hash browns. But, the Jimin Special is our house favorite!"

"The what?"

"100% off for the person it was inspired by," you smile. "That's you, by the way."

"W-Wow, Y/N, I'm—"

"No! You have to take the offer!" you say. "You can't even say you won't like it because it's literally all your favorite breakfast foods combined!"

Jimin smiles, shaking his head. "It's really the house favorite?"

"You bet it is," you laugh.

"Then I guess I'll have a Jimin Special," Jimin says. "Any chance it comes with a glazed donut?"

You shoot him a knowing look, a grin spreading across your lips. "It wouldn't be a Jimin Special without one."

Jimin ends up having brunch with you.

The icy, awkward barriers in the beginning slowly melt away into the friendship Jimin had known for more than half of his life. He dines on the best breakfast he could have ever asked for while getting to talk to you again after nearly two years. He can't imagine a better way to spend his Sunday.

Small talk with you is fun because you spice everything up with loud gasps, wide eyes and extroverted reactions that make even the dullest stories exhilarating. But it's suffocating to speak of such shallow things with a person he'd been best friends with for twenty years. Jimin's dying to know how you've really been, not what you found hilariously funny last week.

"So," he asks, "how are things with Namjoon?"

You snort, shaking your head. "God, that was fucking ages ago," you say. "We broke up a while back."

"Sorry," Jimin says. But he's not really.

"You're not that sorry, aren't you?" you laugh as Jimin's face morphs in shock when you call him out. "It's okay. I know how you feel about him. And I agree with you now. That idiot had the audacity to tell me to grow up. And he called you a good-for-nothing-awkward-ass-wimpy-child." You roll your eyes. "I knew it had to end when he said that. Besides, there's a certain highly endearing thing about innocence, don't you think? We should all be a little more childish."

"Wow," Jimin breathes.

"Wow, indeed," you smile wistfully. "That bastard could've said anything he wanted to me, but he shouldn't have dared to bring you up like that. I can't fucking believe I thought he was going to be my prince! I was so scared I'd lose him so I did everything he said, you know? God, in retrospect, I was just a really, really, oblivious and desperate idiot."

"You were just in love, Y/N," Jimin says. "Love makes you blind."

Your face twists for just a split second before you smile, shaking your head and sighing. "Jimin, I feel like I have to get this out before we become life-long best friends for fucking ever again."

"Hm?"

"I never apologized for what I told you like, two years ago," you say. "That fight we had on the phone? I told you that you didn't know love. And god, I've regretted saying that for every day, every hour, every fucking minute and second of my life. It was wrong." You shake your head, looking extremely disappointed in yourself. "At least what you told me was right. God, I was so angry, so terrified of losing my first love that I spit out words without thinking. How could I say you didn't know love, Jimin?" you say. "Of course you did—of course you do. You wouldn't have stuck by my side for years if you didn't. And Jimin, fuck. I love you too. I never said it enough. But I'm saying it now. I love you and I missed you. And I'm sorry I picked up the phone when I was having sex."

Jimin laughs. Around two years ago, that day had definitely not been a laughing matter. But only time can tell if the most depressing matters can morph into rather laughable memories. "I love you too, Y/N," he says. "And you shouldn't be sorry. I think we're all past that now."

"C'mon, I wanna show you how I redecorated my granny's home!" you say, bolting up and taking Jimin's cleared plates in your hands. "Meet me at the front of the cafe in two minutes!" you holler as you dash to the kitchen.

Jimin can't get rid of the smile on his face. He adjusts his jacket and stands up, taking another look around the cafe before he exits with a light skip to his step. He'll have to buy Jungkook dinner sometime for recommending this cafe to him. What was the name of this place, anyway?

Jimin steps back and squints at the big, capital letters placed on a banner in front of the cafe. He can't help the laugh that bubbles out of him.

"Nothing a Lil Green Can't Fix!" you exclaim as you come bounding down the steps of the cafe to stand next to Jimin. "Isn't that true? Green fixes like, everything."

"Lil's not a word, Y/N. I thought you knew better," Jimin jokes.

"Oh, spare me," you say, placing a dramatic hand on your forehead. "It had to be done. The stupid company had a character limit for the logo. It was either Nothing a Lil Green Can't Fix or Nothing Green Can't Fix," you huff. "And the latter is completely disgusting."

"I agree," Jimin snorts. "Then, in that case, I believe you made the right decision."

You smile. "I sure did. So, shall we go now?"

"Definitely."

Your granny's apartment looks exactly the same on the outside, but on the inside is an abundance of green. From plants to paintings to posters to silverware, everything is green.

"Nothing a lil green can't fix, indeed," Jimin breathes as you drag him around the whole place.

"Right?" you giggle. "Look! I even made a separate cabinet with all the birthday presents I've ever received from you!!"

The tour nearly takes five hours because the two of you get distracted every other minute, indulging yourselves in past childhood memories. And when Jimin's been tired out, the two of you lay side by side on your dark green sheets, silent but comfortable.

"Hey, Jimin?" you whisper, breaking the silence momentarily.

"Hm?"

"Remember our senior year in high school?"

"Of course I do," Jimin says. That year was the hardest (arguably) in your life. It was the year where you learned of the fatalities of death. It was the year you had lost your granny.

"We had the conversation about our true fears that year," you say with so much nostalgia in your voice that when Jimin closes his eyes, he can see the events of that day unfold before him. "Turns out, I didn't have just one fear. I had two. One was losing Granny. The other was losing you. And you know? For two years, I thought I lost you both. It hurt to think that my best friend hated me so much he had to dissociate himself from my life."

"I didn't hate you," Jimin says, opening his eyes as he turns to his side to look at you. "I swear. I just figured it was a good time for me to self-improve. You know, become independent for once. And maybe I didn't like who you had become, but I never hated you."

"Really?" you say, turning to face your best friend. "I was so scared that you'd shit talk me if I ran after you when you left that I didn't do anything. I thought it would've been better if I let you go. But I mean, I think the time apart was needed. We've self-improved."

"Yeah," Jimin agrees.

"So..." you say, a silly grin appearing on your face, "are we reunited now? Best fucking friends forever?"

"Of course we are," Jimin says.

"Okay, good," you say. "And before you say anything else, I have to ask you something, Jimin."

"What is it, Y/N?" Jimin asks, sitting up as you start to rummage in the pockets of your skirt.

"I just—" you're unable to finish your sentence, smiling. "Will you color me green, please?" you politely ask as you hold out a green marker in your hands.

"Oh my god," Jimin breathes. "Is that—"

"I pulled him out of the trash, Jimin," you say, eyes watering with emotion. "As soon as you left that night, I pulled him out. And then I kept him with me for years. I even recently got the ink replaced so it works fine, now." You let your tears fall down your face and you blink rapidly to see your best friend's softened face. "Did you really think for a second that I'd throw him away?" you ask in your secret language.

Jimin almost sobs right then and there. He'd never thought he'd hear that language again, and even after two years, he's able to understand you fluently. He hopes he doesn't sound too awkward when he replies, "I mean, you did have him in the trash can," he laughs, wiping away his tears with the back of his hand. "You really want me to color you green again?"

"It's the bestest color in the world. What did you expect?"

Jimin's never been happier in his life. Tears streak your cheeks but you are unbothered by them, holding out Gilbert for Jimin to take. He takes note that you do not try to hide your tears anymore. In a way, you've become more beautifully confident. He realizes that you want to take him back to the start—the very beginning of when your friendship had commenced. With those simple words, "Will you color me green?" you've transported the two of you back to a place of innocence, of childishness, of thoughts of staying young forever, of avoiding maturity at all costs.

Outside, there's a slow drizzle of rain, indicating another spring shower. But above the soft gray rain clouds is a double rainbow. The colors are so vibrant, they wash away the monotonous hues of the clouds heavy with rain.

Romantic love makes people suffer. Jimin should know. He's been in love with you romantically for nearly two decades. He's felt feelings such as pain, experienced experiences such as heartbreak and dealt with the understanding of the wretched concept of unrequited love. But now? Two years later?

He realizes that you may never love him the way he had loved you. But that's okay. Because maturity is when you accept the way things are. Being childish is refusing to let go, which is what Jimin is too—he refuses to let go of you. But that goes the same for you, for you refuse to let go of Jimin.

You still love him. And for once in his whole fucking life, Jimin loves you in the same exact way that you love him.

a/n: find my behind the scenes thoughts and original endings here!

masterlist

#btswritersnet #btswriterscollective #bangtanfairygarden #btswritingcafe #bangtanidx #jimin #park jimin #jimin fluff #jimin angst #jimin fanfiction #bts fanfiction #jimin ff #bts #nothing a lil green can't fix #nalgcf #i didn't even know what a simp was when i was writing it #but apparently #subconsciously i knew what it was #yikes

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unfolded73 · 7 years ago

Text

This Graceful Path (3/19)

Summary: Emma has just moved in with Mary Margaret and started working as a deputy in the Storybrooke sheriff’s department when she meets Killian Jones, the town’s introverted harbormaster. When a prominent Storybrooke resident is found murdered, Emma tries to juggle solving the case with new friendships, parenthood, and romance. A Season 1 Cursed!Killian AU.

Rating: Explicit per CSBB guidelines (violence, sex). If you are someone who uses my usual distinction between M and E to decide whether to read something I wrote, this is more of an M on unfolded73’s scale. The sex, when we get there, is not extremely graphic in nature. Same with the violence.

Content Warning: This fic contains two major character deaths, one of which is S1 canon (in this chapter) and one of which is not but happens in Chapter 2. This chapter contains descriptions of violence.

Total word count: ~ 75,000

Acknowledgements: Thank you to @j-philly-b for betaing this monstrosity. Thank you to @caprelloidea for all of the read-throughs and cheerleading; not sure I could have written it without your excitement early on. Thank you to @teruel-a-witch for the original prompt on tumblr which sparked this fic. Thanks to the CSBB mods ( @sambethe in particular, who had to look at my check-ins) for your support and for enduring my neuroses.

ART! The first of @pompeiiablaze’s wonderful art pieces accompanies this chapter and is included below in the text. Also go give her some love.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 – AO3 Link

Chapter 3

The phone on Emma’s desk rang, the jangly sound of an actual bell inside the workings of the ancient telephone. She jumped, then picked up the receiver.

“Sheriff’s station.”

“Emma, it’s Graham. I’ve found… I need your help.” She could hear his breaths panting down the phone line.

“Are you hurt? Where are you, are you sick?” she asked, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. She should never have let him go, Emma thought. She should have followed him.

“Not me, I… There’s been a murder. We need to…” He cleared his throat, and when he spoke again, he sounded calmer, more professional. “I’ve found a body in the woods. About a quarter mile west of trail marker 47. Bring a trail map so that you can locate me. Also, there should be some evidence kits in the storage room, do you remember I showed you? Pack up some evidence kits and get down here as soon as you can. Also flashlights; it will be dark soon.”

“Okay, got it.” Hanging up, Emma jerked up out of her chair, out of the comforting pool of light from her desk lamp, and made for the storage closet. Maybe it was a bear attack or something, she thought, and not a murder. Graham himself had laughed at the idea of a murder happening in Storybrooke. He’d found the very idea hilarious.

In mere minutes, she was behind the wheel of the squad car. Flipping on the lights and the siren for the first time since Graham had shown her where the switches were, she peeled out of the parking space.

By the time she parked along the side of the road at the closest hiking trail crossing to marker 47, the remaining daylight was gone and a damp, foggy chill had settled in the air. Shouldering the bag of evidence kits and clicking on her flashlight, Emma set off down the trail. At marker 47, she stopped and pulled her phone out, opening the compass app. “West,” she muttered, setting off in the right direction once she had confirmed what the right direction was.

She was so focused on the compass and not tripping over any fallen tree limbs, she almost collided with Graham where he was standing and waiting for her. His hands reached out and gripped her arms to steady them both.

“Over here,” he said, pointing. Emma stopped and reached into the bag, producing the other flashlight to give to him.

They made their way carefully forward. “Emma, have you seen a dead body before?” Graham asked.

She thought back to the days when she’d been living rough, on the run for jumping bail on a couple of minor thefts. She thought of Cleo. “Yeah, I’ve seen a dead body.”

“Just to warn you, the scene is bad.” He glanced back at her. “I’ve called the coroner, but we should have enough time to investigate before they get here to pick up the body.”

Heart racing, Emma continued to follow him. She didn’t know the first thing about a proper crime scene investigation; she hoped Graham did.

“Before you touch anything, put on gloves,” Graham said.

Emma rolled her eyes. Well, she knew that much. Dropping her bag on the ground, she stepped forward.

The first thing she saw were men’s dress shoes, the toes pointed up to the air. She walked closer, moving the flashlight up the body; when she got to the torso, her gorge rose and she had to swallow, breathing sharply through her nose. It was hard to tell because the suit was dark, but the entire front of the man’s suit appeared to be soaked with blood. Underneath the shredded fabric, she caught a glimpse what she feared were partially exposed organs. Averting her eyes from that sight, she jerked her flashlight up to the face.

(x)

“Holy shit, this is Mr. Gold.”

“Yeah,” Graham agreed.

“Could an animal have done this?”

Graham had put on gloves from the bag she’d brought, and he knelt down and carefully moved Mr. Gold’s tie aside before undoing a few of his shirt buttons. “These look like stab wounds to me. Definitely not claw or teeth marks.”

Her mouth seemed suddenly full of saliva, and she swallowed again. “Is there a weapon?”

“Not that I’ve found.” He gestured to the side. “There’s a shovel, but it didn’t do this.”

Emma went over and looked at the shovel where it lay next to a shallow hole. “Did you check to see if something was buried here?”

Graham shook his head. “The ground below seems to be undisturbed. Like Gold was in the process of digging the hole when he was killed, not that he was filling one in.”

“Or maybe the killer was digging the hole?” she asked.

“Perhaps.”

Emma pulled out her phone and snapped a picture of the shovel and the hole. “Should I take pictures of the body?”

“Be my guest.”

Trying her best for professional detachment, Emma took a series of photos of Mr. Gold’s corpse. “Did you find anything else?” she asked Graham.

He circled the small clearing, examining the ground. “Before I lost the light, I could tell that two people came from that direction,” he said, pointing.

“Wow, you’re quite the tracker.”

He flinched. “I couldn’t make out any clear footprints, though. The earth is too dry.” Graham began to work, wrapping one of the evidence bags around the blade of the shovel and another around the handle, despite dismissing it as a possible murder weapon. Emma looked around, at a loss for how she could help. There didn’t seem to be any other evidence, and short of pulling plants out of the ground and putting them in evidence bags, all she could do was stand there and continue to avert her eyes from the body.

“Are you feeling any better?” she asked Graham. “I really think you’re coming down with something.”

“I’ll be fine,” he grunted, but he still looked pale to her.

She heard a crashing through the underbrush, making her jump and swing her flashlight around toward the sound.

Two paramedics approached, carrying a stretcher with a black body bag slung over it. And with them—

“Regina,” Emma said.

“I expect to be notified when a dead body is found in the woods, Sheriff,” she said, addressing Graham and ignoring Emma completely. Regina wore an immaculate cream-colored suit and heels, looking completely incongruous as she stood there in the woods with her hands on her hips. “Why do I have to hear about it from Doctor Whale?”

“I was planning to let you know first thing in the morning,” Graham said, stepping forward and blocking her view of the body.

“That’s not good enough. Who is it?” Regina made to walk around Graham, and he stopped her with a hand on your shoulder.

“It’s quite gruesome, Madam Mayor,” he said, but she pushed him aside and marched over to where the paramedics were going through the motions of looking for life signs from the corpse.

It was Regina’s silence when she saw Gold that told the tale of how shocked she was, rather than any kind of exclamation she might have made. She was still as a stone, staring down at him, and when she spoke, her voice was like ground-up glass.

“Who did this?”

“We don’t know,” Graham answered. “But rest assured—”

“I don’t want your assurances!” Regina said, turning on a dime to white-hot anger. “Do you have any idea…?” She stopped herself and exhaled. “We have to find who did this immediately.”

“We will,” Emma said, trying to sound confident. She didn’t know if the source of Regina’s emotion was due to the loss of control of her town or some feeling she had toward Gold, but whatever it was, it was laced with something Emma had never seen from Regina before: fear.

Finally and mercifully, the paramedics began the process of putting the corpse inside the body bag and zipping it closed.

“The dag— the murder weapon, did you find it?”

“It wasn’t left at the crime scene,” Graham said, “but once Doctor Whale has examined the entry wounds, we should have a better idea of what we’re looking for.”

Regina opened her mouth, only to snap it closed again.

“You knew Mr. Gold pretty well, Regina,” Emma said. “Did he have any enemies?”

Regina laughed darkly. “Who in this town wasn’t his enemy?” She started to pace but stopped short after only two steps. “Killian Jones.”

“The harbormaster?” Emma asked.

“He hated Gold more than most,” Regina said.

The paramedics had the body strapped to the stretcher and started making their way back toward the hiking trail. With nothing left that they could do in the woods, Graham, Emma, and Regina followed.

“I’ve never heard of any bad blood between Gold and Jones,” Graham said.

“It was a long time ago, but it still festered,” Regina said. “Bring Killian in and question him. Search his apartment, search his office, search every boat in the harbor. Believe me, Killian Jones should be your number one suspect.”

~*~

“What can you tell me about Gold’s death?” Sidney asked in a rush, jumping in front of Emma as she tried to make her way through the crowd at Granny’s and get an infusion of caffeine. It was her second night in a row working late, and it was taking its toll. All she wanted was a simple coffee, but with the chaos currently swirling in the diner, there wasn’t going to be anything simple about it. She stared at the lapels of Sidney’s immaculate suit, feeling slightly nauseated by the overwhelming scent of his cologne.

“If you think I’m going to talk to you after—”

“Come on, Deputy Swan, this is the biggest story to ever hit this one-horse town. You have to give me something. What was the state of the body? Do you have any suspects?” Sidney tried to give her a disarming smile. With a glance, Emma could tell that he wasn’t the only one in the crowded diner waiting for her to speak.

“Sheriff Humbert gave his official statement earlier, and that’s all we’re going to say about it during an open investigation.” She pushed her way toward the counter, as the patrons around her grumbled and reluctantly moved aside.

“The question I have is, who’s going to inherit all of his property?” Granny said, both to her and to anyone standing within earshot.

“Did he have any family?” Emma asked.

“There were rumors of an estranged son, but no one in town’s ever met him, far as I know.”

“Well, someone that rich must’ve had a lawyer. Maybe more than one. I’m sure they’ll sort it out. That part of it’s not really my job,” Emma said.

“It’s your job if somebody killed him to inherit his money,” Ruby pointed out, tapping on the counter with a long, red fingernail.

She had a point. There was so little Emma knew about Gold that it was hard to know where to begin. She had hoped Graham would have some ideas of how to investigate this killing, but he’d been holed up in his office for most of the day.

Returning to the station, she eyed him through the glass wall that separated his office from the rest of the room. Taking a deep breath, she approached.

“Did you hear from Dr. Whale?”

Graham was staring into space and didn’t answer her.

“Graham?” Still no response. “Graham!”

Finally, he looked up. The only word she could call up to describe his facial expression was haunted. “What is it, Emma?”

“I asked if you heard from Dr. Whale about the medical examination of Gold.”

“Oh, yeah.” He picked up a report from his desk, almost as if he’d forgotten about it. “Cause of death, puncture of the right ventricle of the heart. Other stab wounds to the chest and abdomen, fourteen in all. Wounds are consistent with a short sword or dagger of at least a twelve inches in length. Markings on three ribs consistent with a curved or irregularly-shaped blade.”

“Wow, okay, that’s useful. Although, sword? Really?”

Graham shrugged.

She huffed in frustration. “Graham, I know you’re… I don’t know, going through some stuff and maybe aren’t feeling a hundred percent. But isn’t this kind of a big deal? Don’t we need to be out… investigating?”

He scrubbed his hands over his face, and then stood up and brushed past her, continuing through the station and out the door. Emma chased after him. She found him standing on the sidewalk outside, looking around in confusion at the darkened street.

“Graham?” Emma said, approaching him slowly.

“It’s my heart. I need to find it,” he muttered.

“What? Wait, is this another way of saying you can’t feel anything?”

“If I follow the wolf, I’ll find my heart,” he said, turning to face her. His eyes were fever-bright, she noticed now that she was close to him. She wondered if he would heed her if she insisted he go home and rest.

“Okay, you’ve lost me,” she said in as calm a voice as she could muster. “What does the wolf represent?”

He shook his head in frustration, his hand reaching out to grip her arm. “If I follow the wolf from my dreams, it will help me find my heart. I saw it in Henry’s book.”

“You’ve been talking to Henry about this?” She replayed what he had just said in her mind. “Hang on. Graham, you really think you don’t have a heart?”

“It’s the only thing that makes any sense. It’s the only thing that explains why I don’t feel anything.”

“Listen to me, Graham: you have a heart. If you didn’t, you’d be… you know. Dead.”

He shook his head as she spoke. “I don’t, she took it. She’s keeping it somewhere and I have to find it.”

“Look, I can prove it to you.” Emma reached for his hand, and as she took it she could feel him trembling. Bringing their joined hands together to his chest, she pressed his hand down, her splayed fingers fitting between his. There it was, the rhythmic thump-thump of his heart. Other than his pulse being quick, his heartbeat seemed normal to her untrained senses. They stood close, knees almost touching, and Emma looked into his eyes. “Feel that? It’s your heart.”

“It’s a trick.”

“Graham, let me take you to the hospital; you’re not well.”

A white flash of movement in the dark street caught Emma’s eye, and she turned to look. Staring back at her, at them, was a large white wolf.

“What the fuck.”

Graham’s gaze followed hers. “There it is, I’ve seen it before. I saw it in the woods last night.” “When you found Gold?”

“Come on,” he said as the wolf loped away. Graham chased after it, and there was nothing for Emma to do but chase after Graham.

“He better not lead us into the woods,” she muttered, glancing down at her boots. “I’m not exactly prepared for long-distance running.”

Pushing aside the thought that she was currently chasing an animal like this was some kind of Harry Potter story, she focused on what Graham had said about seeing the wolf in the woods the night before. She’d wondered how Graham had come across Gold’s body in the first place; now it seemed he’d come across it following a wolf. She wondered why he hadn’t mentioned it last night when she’d suggested an animal attack, not that wolves were in the habit of using twelve-inch blades.

The wolf led them across the grass of the cemetery, its green color fading as fall was beginning to turn into winter. The animal stopped in front of a stone crypt and sat on its haunches.

“This is Regina’s,” Graham said, still approaching.

“Graham, be careful.”

“The wolf won’t hurt us.” He looked up, seeming to focus on the symbol over the door. Was it tree branches? No, she thought, squinting at it. It was deer antlers.

“Why are we here?” Emma asked.

“Because of my heart. It’s in there,” he said, gesturing toward the crypt.

“Graham,” she said helplessly. How do you convince someone that their heart hasn’t been stolen from their chest? He was already pulling uselessly at the door to the crypt. “Okay, you know what? Let’s find out.” Maybe if she could show him there was nothing here, then he would let her take him to the hospital. Positioning herself at his side, she gave the door a sharp kick, forcing it open.

The inside of the mausoleum was small, dominated by a sarcophagus in the center. There really wasn’t much to the space: some recesses in the walls, one containing an urn but the rest with nothing in them. Emma turned on a flashlight as Graham fumbled around, getting more and more frantic.

“There has to be something here. A hidden door. Something.”

“Graham, there isn’t. It’s just what it looks like.”

“So, first you try to take my son,” came a steely voice behind them, and Emma whirled around to face Regina in the doorway, “and then you try to take my lover, and then you defile my father’s grave?”

“Take your who now?” Emma blurted. This hardly seemed the time or place to explain that she and Graham weren't like that, but it was tempting to do so.

“Don’t blame Emma, it was my idea. It’s my fault we’re in here looking,” Graham said.

“And what, pray tell, are you looking for?” Regina asked. Her red lips were a violent slash across her face in the dim light.

Graham seemed to shrink under her gaze. “Nothing.”

“Graham, you look unwell,” Regina said, taking his arm and steering him out of the mausoleum. “Let’s get you in bed so you can rest.” Emma followed, unsure of what to do.

Graham pulled away from Regina, taking two stumbling steps backward. “I’m not going with you.”

“Oh, but you’ll go with Miss Swan?” Regina said viciously, gesturing at Emma.

“Nuh-uh,” Emma said, her hands up. “Don’t bring me into this.”

“It has nothing to do with her.” He pulled himself taller, looking down at Regina calmly. “I thought the reason I couldn’t feel anything was because of me, but it’s you, Regina.”

Regina shook her head, her eyes narrowing. “And so you’re leaving me for her?”

“I’m leaving you for me. It’s over between us.”

“I don’t know what I ever did to you to deserve this,” Regina said, stalking toward Emma. “To have you keep coming after everything I hold dear.”

“I told you, Regina, it’s not her.” Graham sounded more lucid than he had all day, Emma couldn’t help but notice.

“None of this started happening until she got here,” Regina shouted, her hair whipping against her cheek as she jerked her head around from Emma to Graham. “Can you honestly tell me she’s not to blame for your sudden change of heart?”

Emma had had enough. “Regina, did you ever stop to think that maybe the problem isn’t with me, but with you? Henry came and found me. Graham asked for help from me. Both were miserable. Maybe, Madam Mayor, you need to take a good hard look in the mirror and ask yourself why that is. Why is everyone trying to get away from you?”

Regina’s eyes flashed with rage. “Both of you need to get out of my sight.” “Gladly,” Emma said, backing away. “Come on, Graham.” With one last look at Regina, he joined Emma and they walked out of the cemetery together.

They walked in silence for awhile until Graham broke the silence. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me. I kind of lost my mind.”

“It’s okay. You were sick and stressed out… And kind of heartbroken.”

“I don’t know why I let myself get mixed up with her,” he said.

“Because it was easy. Not feeling anything’s an attractive option when what you feel sucks.” She crossed her arms over her chest, shivering against the chilly, damp air.

“I guess,” he said. “Still, it feels a little bit like I’m waking up from a nightmare, and none of the things I did in the nightmare make sense now that I’m awake.”

Emma chuckled softly. “I’ve been there.” She reached out and tentatively patted his upper arm, the sleeve of his leather jacket smooth under her hand. “You’re gonna be okay, though. You believe that, right?”

He shook his head. “I honestly don’t know.” They came to the sidewalk and started back toward the sheriff’s station.

“There’s one thing I don’t understand, though,” Emma said. “Hmm?”

“What the hell was up with that wolf?”

Graham shook his head. “I still have all these memories in my head, or what feel like memories. I have dreams that seem so real when I wake up. Dreams of this world where I’ve…” He stopped and turned to face her. “Dreams where Regina is a queen, and where she orders me to murder…” He frowned, his brow wrinkling. “I think it’s Mary Margaret, Regina wants me to cut out her heart…” His breaths have started to come quick and shallow, beads of sweat breaking out on his brow.

“Okay, calm down, let’s not go down this road again, not until you’ve had some rest—”

Graham gasped, his hand going to his chest.

“Graham? What’s wrong?”

He fell; Emma had never seen a human being topple over like a dead tree, but that’s what Graham’s body did. She made a grab for him, trying to slow his fall, but his head hit the pavement hard.

“Graham!” She dropped to his side, her fingers going to the pulse point of his neck, but she was too cold and scared to tell why she wasn’t feeling anything. “Graham, please wake up. Please.” Fumbling for the phone in her pocket, Emma pulled it out and dialed 911.

Chapter 4

#csbb #cs ff #captain swan ff #cs s1 au #this graceful path fic #my fic #cw: character death #cw: violence

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