5 | If Time Would Just Wait 🐥

JIMIN'S POV

It's our last morning here.

And it feels too quiet.

The wind is soft through the curtains. The sky outside is pale and sleepy, like it doesn't want to wake up either. I can hear the sea, steady as always—the only thing that hasn't changed since we got here.

Jungkook is still asleep beside me.

And I'm not ready to let any of this go.

He's on his stomach, hair in his eyes, one arm sprawled across my waist like he's trying to tether me down. His back rises and falls in slow, even breaths.

He always sleeps the hardest on our last day anywhere. Like he's trying to squeeze every second out of dreaming, just to put off returning.

I run my fingers gently down his spine, tracing the soft curve from shoulder to waist. He shifts a little but doesn't wake.

Good. He deserves a few more minutes of peace.

The room is still a mess—towels, sunscreen, half-finished snacks we never got around to eating. There's a shirt hanging on the lamp. Sand in the sheets.

It's perfect.

Lived in.

Loved it.

Ours.

🐣

We didn't do much yesterday. Just like the rest of the trip.

But that's the thing, isn't it?

We didn't need to.

We were enough—just existing together.

Eating too much meat.

Falling asleep in the hammock.

Catching each other's eye at dinner and giggling like kids.

Letting our fingers tangle under the table like we weren't already tangled in everything else.

And last night...

Last night, we didn't even speak much.

Just held each other in bed, skin to skin, hearts thumping slow and steady like waves.

I think he kissed my shoulder five times before sleep took him.

I kissed his hair and said nothing.

Some moments don't need words.

🐣

I eventually slip out of bed and step onto the deck, careful not to wake him.

The breeze hits my skin—warm and salt-sweet.

I breathe it in and try not to cry.

Because I don't want to leave.

Not just the island.

This.

The quiet.

The freedom.

The version of us that doesn't have to whisper.

I sit on the edge of the deck and watch the sun rise, hugging my knees to my chest.

It's funny.

We came here to disappear.

But instead, I feel more seen than I have in months.

Jungkook looks at me like I'm made of something good.

Like I never have to explain myself.

Like I can just be—silly, quiet, clingy, tired, or tender—and he'll meet me there every time.

I'm used to giving.

He lets me rest.

🐣

A few minutes later, I hear the door slide open behind me.

Bare feet. A warm shadow.

Then his arms around my waist. His chin on my head.

"Mornin', Baby," he mumbles, voice thick with sleep.

I smile. "Good dream?"

"Only remember the part where you wouldn't share your watermelon."

"Sounds accurate."

He chuckles and sits beside me, wrapping a blanket around both of us. I lean into his side.

"Sun's shy today," he says.

I hum. "Doesn't want us to leave."

"Then let's stay."

I glance at him.

He's only half joking.

"I wish we could," I whisper.

He nods. "I know."

We sit there in silence for a while.

Just letting the waves talk for us.

Then, quietly, he says, "This was the best week of my life."

My throat tightens.

"Mine too."

🐣

We spend the morning cleaning—or at least trying to.

Packing is slow. Distracted.

Mostly because Jungkook keeps getting distracted.

He picks up a shirt, sniffs it, makes a face, and chucks it at me. I retaliate with a sock to his chest. We dissolve into giggles. Small, endless wars.

Every time I try to fold something, he pulls me into a hug. Every time he zips up a bag, I unzip it and throw myself across it like I'm protesting a grave injustice.

"Don't be annoying," he mutters, forehead pressed to my shoulder.

"Don't leave," I whisper back.

Later, he tries to put our leftover ramen in the fridge but ends up eating it with his fingers like a barbarian. I pretend to be horrified.Then I kiss him anyway.

Because it's our last day.

And nothing matters more than kissing him while I still can.

🐣

We take one last walk down to the water.

No cameras. No shoes. No words.

I let the sea touch my toes and close my eyes, breathing it all in.

Jungkook comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist, his chest against my back.

His chin rests on my shoulder. I reach up and run my fingers through his hair.

Neither of us says what we're thinking.

Because if we speak it, it becomes real.

We take one last swim.

I float on my back, eyes closed, waves lapping at my ears.

He swims up and pulls me under playfully, and I splash him in the face like it's the end of the world.

When we come up for air, he's grinning.

"Still mad?" he asks.

"Yes."

"Still love me?"

I don't answer.

I dunk him instead.

🐣

We dry off in the sun, side by side, fingers interlaced.

His thumb strokes over the top of my hand, again and again, like he's trying to memorize the shape of it.

I glance at him.

He looks peaceful. But also far away.

Like he's already half packed, half gone.

I squeeze his hand. "Don't disappear on me yet."

He meets my eyes. "Never."

🐣

By the time we're dressed again, bags by the door, shoes on, the world feels heavier.

Jungkook is quiet.

Fingers twitching.

Eyes darting.

I know that look.

He's trying not to cry.

We stand at the doorway of the little cottage, the one that's held every version of us this week—the silly, the sweet, the aching, the whole.

He stares at the threshold like something sacred is on the other side.

Maybe there is.

I turn to him.

"Ready?"

He shakes his head.

His voice was barely a whisper. "No."

I take a step closer and press my hand to his chest. His heartbeat thuds fast beneath my palm.

"I know," I say softly. "Me neither."

🐣🐣

And then he kisses me.

🐣🐣

Not rushed.

Not dramatic.

Not even tearful.

Just—

Full.

Like he's pouring every moment we spent here into it.

Like, if he kisses me long enough, we won't have to leave.

His hands come up to cup my face, thumbs brushing the corners of my mouth.

My own fingers slide into his hair, holding him like he might slip away.

The breeze quiets.

The waves hush.

Even the sun seems to pause in the sky.

There's no time.

No BTS.

No world.

Just lips and breath and the trembling way he exhales against me, like I'm the only thing keeping him steady.

It lingers.

Longer than a kiss should.

So long it feels like the universe forgot to turn the page.

When he finally pulls away—just slightly—we don't move.

Foreheads pressed.

Eyes closed.

Breaths mingling.

We stay like that for what could be seconds or years.

And in the silence between heartbeats, I realize something: This is the moment I'll replay when I miss him.

Not the kiss—but the stillness that held us.

He swallows hard. His voice cracks when he whispers,

"I don't want to walk out that door."

I smile, eyes still closed.

"Then let's take it slow."

🐣

We don't rush down the path.

We walk hand in hand, pausing every few steps.

We say goodbye to the hammock, to the deck, and to the little grill we argued over.

He kisses my temple before we step onto the boat.

I press my face into his chest during the ride.

We don't speak much.

The world is already waking up again—we can feel it in the air.

But part of me is still in that kiss.

Still in that hush where only he existed.

🐣

That night, back in the city, when we're in separate cars heading home—reality swallowing us again—he sends me a text that simply reads:

"It's still you. It's always you."

I stare at it for a long time.

Then I text back:

"And no matter what happens... I'll remember the way time stopped."

Because it did.

Right there.

At that doorway.

Between the past and the future—there was only now.

Only us.

And that moment...

That moment is ours forever.

🐥🐥🐥

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

I wrote this with a heavy heart. Even though the scenes are brief, they felt real to me—and I know I'll miss them. I'll write another soft moment for the AFISM soon. Maybe Jimin and Jungkook really are together. And if they are, then thank the stars for that. But even if they're not, I'll continue to support them both, always.