Run With Me || JJK+PJM

fifteen

JIMIN

It feels weird saying it out loud. I look hesitantly at him as he tilts his head, furrows his brows and just blinks.

"What?" he asks in disbelief. I drag a hand down my face - I can feel myself burning up.

Now that I know he's gay - by accident - he might not want to talk to me anymore. He might be weird around me. Things will change. Hell - I don't even know if things will change. What if he doesn't want me knowing?

"When I was searching through your bag," I say, like that's enough explanation. He laughs sharply, ruffling his hair as his eyes dart about.

"So? Firstly, I don't have a random banner in my bag that screams I'm gay - so what sold me out? Secondly, does it even matter that I'm gay?" his voice falters and it makes me feel like crap. But it clicks suddenly - very quickly.

That's why he's running away.

And then it clicks again that this is why he's sensitive about it - he was probably treated awfully at home because he's gay, and I'm here acting like it's a bad thing. I widen my eyes when I realise that my reaction makes me look like I hate him because of this.

"No, no, no! That's not what I meant! I suppose you haven't found the letter yet-"

He instantly rushes to his bag and starts searching it.

"What letter?" he demands.

"I think it's from Dae? She mentions you being gay in it so-"

He suddenly stands abruptly, paper in hand, his face centimetres from mine.

"You read a personal letter?" he asks coldly, his voice so thin and quiet I worry he might not have actually said something. I gulp.

"Yes, but to be fair-"

"No. It wasn't called for," he says angrily. I soften.

"I'm really, really, really sorry," I start, hands clasping each other, but he's already turning away and skimming through the contents of the letter.

"Thanks for paying for the stay," he grumbles before starting to pack his things. My eyes widen.

"What're you doing?" I ask in alarm.

"I'm going. You don't have to feel uncomfortable with me around-"

"Wait, no, I'm sorry, I didn't make it clear. I'm okay with you being gay, you get that right?" I ask hesitantly and he pauses.

"But you're a guy," he says like there's something really obvious. But there... isn't.

"And?" I ask.

"Aren't you worried that I might have a crush on you or something?" he pushes. In a split second, I try to think about him liking me. Jungkook with his brown hair and brown eyes and red lips and red cheeks liking me.

And I don't see it.

"No," I say. This time it's a statement and not a question. He nods slowly.

"Does me knowing you're gay change anything between us?" I ask and he shakes his head.

"At least you know now," he says. I just hum in response, a bit stunned by the sudden conversation.

***

I look to Jungkook who's wearing my coat and my heart warms.

Poor dude. Running away because he isn't accepted for who he is.

"Can you not do the whole pity look thing?" he asks quietly. His cheeks are pink and I can't tell if he's blushing or if he's just cold from the snow.

"I'm not," I deny it and the rest of the walk around the town is silent. We collect some food and even stop to eat for a while. It's all dead silent and I don't try to make conversation.

JUNGKOOK

I look up at Jimin who's hungrily slurping up some noodles and I furrow my brows before looking back at my food.

He knows. He knows. He knows.

I'm not upset that he knows - at least he knows. But it just changes things. I don't even know what it changes but something has already changed. But it's alright. I think it's alright because we'll be going our separate ways in Paris.

So it's alright.

"Thanks for not freaking out," I mumble at my food. Jimin starts a bit before looking at me with his wide eyes.

"Oh, yeah. Uhm- no problem?" he shrugs his shoulders and goes back to eating. I finish my food way too quickly and cross my right leg over my left, hands relaxed on my knee. I watch snowflakes just drift and float before they melt on the rocky ground. Then I watch Jimin eat - it's fascinating, really.

I can barely see his whole face - it's all stuffed in the bowl. His silver hair acts as a sort of curtain which blocks me from seeing him actually eat.

"Didn't they tell you that eating like that is rude in your fancy house?" I ask before I can stop myself. He looks up in surprise, mouth full of food. He chews for a bit in thought - or maybe they taught him that it was impolite to talk with a mouth of food.

He grins. And it's a different smile. Not that I've seen many smiles. His eyes form round crescents, all his teeth are showing and he looks... happy.

"Yeah, they did. That's why I'm not doing it," he beams.