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

Chapter 18: The Road That Feels Like Home

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The soft hum of crickets echoed under the blanket of a late spring night. The stars twinkled like quiet witnesses above, and the garden lights behind the house had dimmed to a warm amber. A breeze drifted through the yard, carrying the scent of grilled meat, fresh-cut grass, and wood smoke from earlier. Most of the night’s energy had faded, the laughter from the barbecue now only a memory lingering in the air.

Y/n sat on the porch step, her knees hugged to her chest, a blanket draped over her shoulders. A half-finished cup of tea warmed her hands as she watched the night deepen. Her eyes were distant, unfocused, lingering on things only she could see. Jimin sat beside her, resting his back against the railing, his head tilted up to the sky.

They had spoken earlier, laughed with her dad, danced a little to old music her mom played. It had been a beautiful evening—so simple, yet so full. And now the stillness between them was comforting. Like an old friend.

After a while, Y/n finally broke the silence.

“I miss the old days,” she said quietly.

Jimin turned to look at her, a small smile playing on his lips. “Hmm?”

She sighed, still staring out into the yard. “Back in school… I used to sneak out at night. Just me and my bicycle. No real destination. I’d ride down the slope behind the house, feel the wind rush past me like I could fly. I’d chase the stars, pretend they were leading me somewhere. I felt… free.”

Jimin watched the way her fingers clutched the edge of the blanket, how her lips curled in memory.

“Did your parents know?”

“They always caught me,” she said, chuckling softly. “I was terrible at sneaking. But I never stopped. Even if it was just for five minutes, that ride—it made me feel like I was infinite.”

There was a long pause. Then the sound of shifting gravel as Jimin stood up.

“Then let’s go.”

Y/n looked up at him, confused. “What?”

“Let’s go for a ride. Right now.”

“Jimin, it’s midnight.”

“And your point is?” he grinned, holding out his hand. “Come on. I know where the bike is. You’re not sneaking out alone tonight.”

She blinked at him, then slowly broke into a soft, delighted smile. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious.”

Moments later, he was wheeling out the old bicycle from the shed behind the house. He dusted off the seat, checked the tires, adjusted the handles. Y/n came up behind him, still barefoot, hoodie pulled tight, cheeks flushed with the excitement she hadn’t felt in years.

“There’s only one seat,” she pointed out.

“Then you ride shotgun, princess,” he said, patting the small passenger seat attached to the back. “Hold on tight.”

She hesitated for a second, her heart fluttering—not from fear or hesitation, but something far more vulnerable. Then she climbed on behind him, looping her arms gently around his waist.

He began to pedal slowly, careful not to jolt the bike as they rolled out onto the quiet road.

The night air wrapped around them, cool and alive, brushing her cheeks and ruffling Jimin’s hair. The silence of the town at this hour was like a sacred secret—the way the trees whispered, the distant owl hooted, the tires hummed gently on the asphalt.