Limerence || jikook

Attraction

They'd talked about this. He'd been sitting cross legged on the floor, playing video games as his mom set the table.

"Jungkook," she'd called from the dining room, "remember your friend Jimin?"

"Yeah? Why?" The game was paused.

"I got off the phone with his mom about an hour ago," his mother chirped, "He'll be staying here for a while!" Then turning with a condemning smile, she sang out: "Isn't that great?"

Sure. It would've been great if not for one glaringly urgent problem: a longtime crush that refused to go away. Jungkook had tried (and failed) many times before to stomp down his infatuation, but no matter how he tried, he still smiled at the thought of Jimin's laugh, and his heart always thundered at the smell of his cologne, even after years apart. The two saw each other all the time growing up, what with their parents being close friends, but when Jimin's dad got a job relocation, they became restricted to social media posts and text messages that slowly became less and less frequent.

For the next week or two, Jungkook absolutely lost his mind. What should he say? How should he act? He worried so much that he could barely eat, and he cleaned his room four times already in anxiety. He'd often stay up rehearsing possible conversations in his head. Soon though, with the distractions of daily life, the news of Jimin's return was pushed to the back of his mind.

He didn't even seem to remember it until he returned from school to find an unfamiliar figure on his living room couch.

Shit, we talked about this.

Sitting right in front of him with one arm draped carelessly over the back of the couch— all five feet and nine inches of tan skin, bright eyes, and firm muscles— was the object of his infatuation. When he turned his head away from the TV and noticed him, eyes squinting shut and lips drawing back in a glorious smile, Jungkook could only curse quietly; he wasn't anywhere near prepared.

"Hey," Jimin greets, and his voice still sends electricity from his heart to his fingertips. "You've grown taller."

"You dyed your hair."

That was the first thing Jungkook could think to say, and oh how he wished he could eat it back up. Nice going, me. Jimin laughed — oh god that laugh — and tugged at the cherry red locks hanging over his forehead.

"That I did."

He shot a look to Jungkook awkwardly standing by the door like a bunny about to bolt, and with a hand still pulling at his fringe, Jimin patted the couch cushion beside him, calling the kid over. As casually as he could, Jungkook made his way to him, but as he seated himself, Jimin ran a hand through his hair, front to back, to set it back in place.

He tensed. It was such a simple thing but damn, he could watch that all day. In an innocent gesture, Jimin reached out and placed his hand atop Jungkook's head, completely oblivious to the way he sat frozen with his knees gripped tight beneath sweaty fingers.

"Your hair is still black," Jimin grinned, "and so soft." As he carded his fingers through Jungkook's hair a few times, essentially causing the boy to short circuit because this was too much, too soon, Jungkook's static mind was buzzing, trying to come up with things to say.

"So Jimi— hyung!" He said a bit too forcefully while he leaned his head away, "You're staying here! What's that about?"

"Your mom didn't tell you?" A shadow of a pout crossed his face. "I got into a high school around here, so your parents offered to house me. And since I'd get to stay with my cute little Kookie, I thought why not?" Jimin leaned over and sprawled himself across Jungkook's lap, lying stomach up and beaming brightly.