Fractures in Time

Jimin spent the rest of the afternoon locked in a conference room with the director, working through choreography ideas and shot lists. It was a welcome distraction, allowing him to temporarily push thoughts of Yoongi to the back of his mind. But no matter how many times he forced himself to focus, he couldn’t shake the weight that sat heavy on his chest.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Yoongi’s face, heard the way he said *"too long."* As if he were remembering something distant but still close enough to touch.

Jimin tried not to think too much of it. He wasn’t the same person he’d been five years ago, and Yoongi certainly wasn’t either. Time had changed them—hardened them in ways that made them strangers to each other. At least, that’s what Jimin told himself.

“Jimin?”

The director’s voice cut through his haze of thoughts, and Jimin blinked, realizing he had missed whatever question was being asked.

“Sorry, what?”

The director, a tall, sharp-featured man named Lee Junho, raised an eyebrow. “I asked if you had any changes to the opening sequence. You seem a little distracted.”

Jimin shook his head, forcing a smile. “No, it’s fine. I’ll work on the transitions and send them to you by tomorrow morning.”

Junho nodded, glancing at his phone. “Great. We’ll run through everything tomorrow. Make sure the dancers are ready. I’ll need everyone sharp and on point—we only have a few days of filming.”

With that, the meeting was over, and Jimin gathered his things, clutching his notebook a little tighter than necessary as he made his way out of the room. He needed air. He needed space. And more than anything, he needed a moment to gather himself before running into Yoongi again.

---

Jimin didn’t plan to bump into Yoongi on his way out, but of course, fate wasn’t going to make things easy. As he turned the corner of the studio hallway, he collided with a familiar figure, sending his notebook and Yoongi’s phone clattering to the floor.

“Shit—sorry,” Jimin muttered, crouching down to gather his things before looking up at Yoongi.

The moment their eyes met again, it was like the air left the room. Jimin swallowed, fingers brushing against Yoongi’s phone as he handed it back. His hand trembled slightly, but he quickly steadied himself, trying to ignore the way his heart raced in his chest.

Yoongi straightened up, pocketing his phone with a casual nod. “No problem.”

Jimin wanted to say something—*anything*—to ease the tension, but the words stuck in his throat. He had always been the more expressive one between them, but now, in front of Yoongi, he felt small. Vulnerable in a way he hadn’t in years.

Yoongi was looking at him again, that same unreadable expression on his face. “So… how’s everything going with the choreography?”

Jimin blinked, surprised by the question. It was so mundane, so normal, like they were just coworkers and not two people with a tangled, painful history.

“It’s going well,” Jimin replied, shifting on his feet. “I’ll have the final draft ready by tomorrow.”

Yoongi nodded, his gaze lingering for a moment before he spoke again. “Good. Let me know if you need anything from me.”

Jimin almost laughed at the irony. If he needed anything from Yoongi? He needed a lot from him—closure, understanding, maybe even an apology for how things ended. But he said none of that. Instead, he nodded stiffly, forcing another smile.

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Yoongi gave a short nod before turning to walk away, but just as he reached the end of the hallway, Jimin’s voice stopped him.

“Yoongi.”

The name left Jimin’s lips before he could stop it. He didn’t even know what he was going to say, but Yoongi paused, glancing over his shoulder with a raised brow.

“Yeah?”

Jimin took a step forward, heart pounding in his chest. He had so many questions, so many things he had wanted to ask for years. But now, standing there with Yoongi looking at him like that, he realized he wasn’t ready. Not yet.

“Never mind,” Jimin said quietly, shaking his head. “It’s nothing.”

Yoongi hesitated for a moment longer, his gaze softening just a fraction before he turned and left without another word.

Jimin stood there for a few minutes, staring at the empty hallway, wondering how it was possible for someone to feel both so close and so far away at the same time.

---

That evening, Jimin found himself back in his apartment, sitting on the floor of his living room, staring at the ceiling. His body was exhausted from rehearsal, but his mind refused to rest. Thoughts of Yoongi buzzed incessantly, replaying their brief conversations over and over until Jimin wanted to scream.

He didn’t know what he had expected—some grand moment of reconciliation, maybe? Or at least acknowledgment of the pain they had both endured. But Yoongi had been distant, cold, as if their history was nothing more than an afterthought.

Jimin’s phone buzzed on the coffee table, pulling him from his thoughts. He reached for it, expecting a message from the director or one of the dancers. But when he saw the name on the screen, his breath caught in his throat.

**Yoongi: Let’s talk tomorrow. After the run-through.**

Jimin stared at the message, fingers hovering over the keyboard. His mind raced with all the things he wanted to say—*Why now? What do you even want to talk about? Do you think this will fix everything?*—but instead, he typed a simple response.

**Jimin: Okay.**

He set the phone down, exhaling slowly as the tension in his chest tightened. Tomorrow. They would talk tomorrow. But whether it would bring healing or just reopen old wounds, Jimin wasn’t sure.

He just hoped he was ready for whatever came next.

---

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