As Long As I Can (Jiminx Reader) [Completed]

Chapter 3: Pedals and Price Tags

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The late morning sun hung comfortably in the sky, warm and steady, casting gentle light across the little town like a familiar friend settling in for a visit. The day was well underway — bright but not harsh — the kind of time that promised calm without rushing.

Jimin stood on the small front porch of his temporary home, a cloth grocery bag slung over his shoulder and a cap pulled low over his head. The streets were quiet, but not empty in a lonely way — it was the kind of stillness that felt lived-in. Comfortable. Safe.

He exhaled.

It had been years since he’d had a morning this relaxed. No alarms, no staff, no back-to-back rehearsals. Just the warmth of the sun and the subtle creak of the wooden steps under his feet.

He descended slowly and began walking down the gravel path that curved past a few sleepy houses. The town wasn’t big, but it wasn’t small enough to ignore — there were always small sounds if you listened. A dog barking faintly, a kettle whistling in someone’s kitchen, birds chirping in fits and pauses like they were arguing.

And then—

“Going somewhere?”

The voice was light and sing-songy, and Jimin looked up to see her.

Y/n.

She stood barefoot on her porch, holding a tin watering can, water dripping from its spout like lazy teardrops. Her oversized T-shirt hung off one shoulder, and her loose jeans were frayed at the ends. She looked half-asleep, half-alive, like a person who never really stopped dreaming.

Jimin nodded once, quietly. “Grocery store.”

Y/n tilted her head. “Alone?”

“…Yes.”

“Do you even know where it is?”

He gestured vaguely. “Maps.”

Y/n let out a half-scoff, half-laugh. “Yeah, but Maps doesn’t know you get free extra eggs if you compliment the baker’s garden.”

He blinked. “…Why would I need extra eggs?”

“You don’t need them,” she said with a little grin. “But it’s about the experience.”

Before he could respond, she was already setting her watering can down and jogging down her steps. “Wait right here,” she said, voice trailing as she disappeared inside her house.

Jimin stood there in stunned silence.

A moment later, he heard shuffling, thumping, the sound of something metallic clanking against wood.

And then she reappeared, pulling a seafoam-green bicycle beside her, a wicker basket on the front filled with… was that a ribbon and a tiny plush bunny?

She was now in sneakers and had tied her hair up into a messy bun. “It’s far,” she declared. “This is the fastest way.”

He stared at her, then the bike, then back at her.

“You’re serious.”

“Deadly.”

“I haven’t ridden one of those since high school.”

“Then this’ll be a lovely little tragedy,” she said, utterly unfazed. “But don’t worry. I’ve got two.”

She pointed toward the side of her porch, where a second, slightly rustier bicycle leaned like it was too old to care anymore.

Jimin hesitated.

Y/n narrowed her eyes playfully. “If you say no, I’m going to follow you anyway. And I’ll talk the whole time. Loudly.”