Diamond Dollface // jikook

five

Jungkook waved goodbye to his stylists as they walked out into the driveway, pulling racks and racks of clothes behind them. A whole tour's worth of clothes. The California sun bounced off of the dry cleaning bags as the racks were rolled off his property and loaded up into shiny cars. He only stands there barefoot in the doorway for a moment longer before he steps back into his grand house and slams the door behind him.

Jimin is still sitting on his leather couch, looking like the image of comfortable. His legs are pulled up to support his Macbook, his head hanging off the arm of the furniture. Normally Jungkook would make a comment about him making himself at home but instead, he just slumps beside Jimin's legs, head tilted back.

"You look tired," Jimin comments, lips tugging downwards at the corner. "Did you stay up late last night?"

"Not any later than usual," he replies, leaning in to rest his cheek on Jimin's knee. The older man moves his laptop to the side as if to keep Jungkook's face in the line of his sight. "It's just exhausting to be dressed up and accessorized and then stripped down and dressed again for hours on end. Plus I have to finish packing tonight. We fly out to New York at six tomorrow."

"I know, I think I'm going to leave my car here and we can get driven to the airport together," Jimin replied, eyes scanning over whatever he was typing into his Macbook. "What do you really have to pack though? Aren't your stylists bringing all your clothes?"

"Just my outfits for the shows. I like my leather pants and mesh shirts but they're not good to sleep in, and some countries aren't too fond of men in skirts." Jungkook yawns, the action enough to make Jimin's eyes flicker up. The rockstar watches as his manager's hands twitch over the keyboard as if stopping himself from doing something.

"Since when do you care about what people think of you?" Jimin replied with a quiet snort. His brow was raised high on his forehead, as if the idea was unfathomable.

Jungkook opened his mouth to reply with a sarcastic comeback but he faltered. Because he did care what people thought of him. Maybe not about his fashion, or his..hobbies, but he cared. You had to care about what people think to be a successful artist. His job was to make people happy and he had been doing that since adolescence. Once he got his first taste of acceptance, of admiration, it was impossible not to crave it.

He was addicted to the love people gave him.

"I guess I don't," he lied quietly. His tone alone was enough to have Jimin's gaze flicker up. An indescribable expression passed over the manager's face as he looked at him, the two men sharing eye contact in the silence of the room.

Jimin finally broke the intense gaze to shut his Macbook and set it aside. He smiled brightly, absorbing all of the tension in the room and turning it to comfort as he stood up. His arm reached above his head as he stretched, Jungkook's eyes flickering to the sliver of skin between his white t-shirt and his joggers.

Jimin had gotten a million times more comfortable around him in the time he managed him, unafraid to show up unannounced with his overpriced smoothies and dressed like a Brentwood housewife on his way to do pilates. He and Namjoon would make great friends, Jungkook thinks distantly.

"C'mon rockstar, I'll help you pack."

Jimin folds his clothes like his mom, Jungkook notices as he's kneeled over a suitcase. Jimin is delicately pressing clothes down in another a few feet away from him, carefully packing all of the clothes. Jungkook always hated packing, and it was considered a mission accomplished if he stuffed eight months' worth of random clothes into the suitcase and was still able to close it.