Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

while counting the times this world tormented me, the thought of you today was beyond all reckoning.

When Jeon Jungkook is nine years old, he meets Min Yoongi. 

Jungkook is curled up in a secluded corner of the garden with his GameBoy balanced on his bent knees. This corner has become his favorite for when the weather’s nice because no one else comes near it. Only the gardener, but he’s old and quiet and never gives Jungkook more than a gruff nod before going about his business. 

His corner is tucked between a line of rose bushes and a wall of the house. Sometimes there are spiders crawling up the wall, and sometimes they crawl on his back, so that isn’t fun. But the wall is shared with the kitchen, so sometimes he can smell what’s cooking and hear the chef and her assistant chatter, and that is fun. 

He isn’t expecting to meet anybody while he sits there one hazy summer afternoon playing Pokemon. In fact, he’s hoping he can spend as many hours as possible not meeting anyone at all. The morning had passed between a tutor and a riding instructor and his mother and - well. Jungkook’s not so fond of people today. 

But the person who stumbles upon Jungkook’s little corner that fateful afternoon is different from all the other people in Jungkook’s house. 

He’s a boy. 

The boy is older than him, he can tell that much right away. But he’s still a boy, not an adult, and Jungkook only ever sees adults until his cousin comes to visit, which only happens at Chuseok. The boy’s wearing a pair of overalls with some soil on the sleeve. He’s carrying a broom in one hand and a half-eaten peach in the other. 

“Oh,” he says, and he’s definitely older because his voice is deeper than Jungkook’s. “Hello.”

He blinks at Jungkook, and Jungkook blinks back. Then the boy startles and dips into a quick bow, one that makes Jungkook twist his lips. 

“Sorry, you’re Mrs. Jeon’s son?”

Jungkook nods. Then he looks back down at his game. Curiosity has seized him, though, and he can’t concentrate. He sneaks a glance back at the boy, who has started to sweep the stepstones that weave through the rose bushes. He seems to catch the glance because he looks up and meets it. Jungkook flushes and quickly looks down. 

“You want one?” the boy asks. Jungkook dares to look back up, and he’s holding another peach, this one not eaten. 

Technically, it’s Jungkook’s peach. He must have gotten it from the peach tree on the other side of the garden, and everything in the garden belongs to Jungkook’s mother, which means it belongs to him, too. Jungkook, who’s always been rather possessive, thinks this through quickly. 

But no one ever really offers Jungkook anything in his house. They don’t ask, they just tell. Tantrums don’t work for him like they work for his cousin. Jungkook could cry all day, and he still wouldn’t get ice cream for dinner. 

So Jungkook nods again, and the boy tosses him the uneaten peach. Jungkook plucks it from the air and tucks his GameBoy between his legs so he can hold the peach with both. It’s his peach, and he’s eaten peaches from the garden before, but for some reason, he’s excited to try it. 

He looks up to say thank you, but the boy’s already returned to sweeping, his back to Jungkook. Jungkook has lost his chance. He takes a bite of the peach, and it’s delicious. 

The boy doesn’t say anything else to him. He finishes sweeping and leaves, and Jungkook doesn’t stop thinking about him for the rest of the day. He does some poking around in the coming days and discovers the following information: his name is Min Yoongi, he’s 13 years old, and he’s the gardener’s grandson. 

To Jungkook, 13 seems like an impassable age difference. Min Yoongi’s practically a grownup to him - old enough to be in middle school and probably go out on his own and maybe even old enough to have a girlfriend. The tentative hope that had taken root in Jungkook’s heart fades; he can’t be friends with someone who’s 13 years old. 

The next time they meet, Yoongi catches Jungkook with a coloring book. 

It’s kind of embarrassing to be coloring a picture of a cartoon when he’s 9 years old. The other kids in his class think that sort of thing is for babies, and Jungkook doesn’t want 13 year old Min Yoongi to think he’s a baby. But before he can cover it up, Yoongi peeks over his shoulder. 

“That’s nice,” he says thoughtfully. “I like the colors you picked for the sky.”

Jungkook’s gaze shoots up to him, but Yoongi’s already moving away to sweep the path around Jungkook’s bench. He doesn’t seem to expect an answer, which is nice because everyone always waits for Jungkook to answer when they talk to him, even when he doesn’t have anything to say.

Yoongi goes about his business, and Jungkook tries to pretend he’s coloring instead of sneaking glances at him every three seconds. Yoongi’s pretty nice, he decides, for a teenager . Some of Jungkook’s second cousins are teenagers, and they’re all mean. Not that he wants to, but if he even tries to talk to them, they brush him off like he’s an annoying fly. 

The next time Jungkook sees Min Yoongi, they don’t exactly meet . Jungkook’s spying. Well, sort of spying, because it’s just a game and his target wasn’t Min Yoongi, it was the mailman. He’d overheard one of the maids saying Jungkook’s mother suspected the mailman might be stealing. Jungkook had decided to take it upon himself to find out the truth. It’s amazing how much he can notice when everyone tries hard not to notice him. 

So he’s playing a game where he’s a spy and the mailman has top secret information, and he’s sneaking around the side of the house. But then he spots Yoongi, who crouches by the mailbox pulling weeds, squinting in the hot sun. For a moment, Jungkook falters, watching him work. He has headphones in, but when the mailman pulls up, he lets them dangle around his neck. 

He speaks to the mailman very politely, all bows and nods, and takes the mail from him. Jungkook watches Yoongi walk all the way back to the house; he doesn’t glance at the mail once. He hands it to a maid at the door, then he returns to weeding. 

The mystery of the stolen mail remains unsolved. 

When they meet again, Jungkook holds the incident in his mind, feeling a little smug that he saw Yoongi when Yoongi didn’t see him. It feels like maybe he holds something over him after all. Jungkook’s tucked away in his corner again, playing on his GameBoy, lips pursed in concentration. He almost doesn’t notice when Yoongi walks up, quiet as he is, and when he does he startles. 

Yoongi nods before kneeling in the dirt to pluck weeds around the rose bushes. 

It’s hard to concentrate on his game when Yoongi’s right there. Jungkook’s always more tense with someone else nearby, no matter who it is, and that’s why he likes his corner so much. Yoongi’s grandfather is easier to ignore, but Yoongi - well. Yoongi notices him. That makes it harder. 

Yoongi sits back on his haunches with a huff, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. There’s soil on his glove, so now there’s soil on his forehead. Jungkook wonders if he should tell him. 

“‘S hot,” Yoongi says, glancing over at Jungkook. 

Jungkook stares at him, then he nods tentatively in agreement. 

Yoongi finishes his weeding and stands, brushing off his pants. Jungkook’s almost disappointed to see him go. He nearly jumps out of his skin when he realizes Yoongi’s walking toward him instead of away. 

“You’re gonna get sunburnt,” says Yoongi right before he plucks the sunhat off his head and drops it onto Jungkook’s instead. 

Then he turns around and leaves. 

Jungkook realizes that in the three instances they’ve met, he hasn’t said a single word to Yoongi. 

Jungkook was raised to be polite and well-mannered, and he knows it isn’t polite or well-mannered to receive a peach, a compliment, and a hat and never say thank you once. And anyway, he needs to return the hat at some point, so he decides it’s high time he approached Yoongi himself. 

Finding him is easy. He’s always somewhere on the grounds, working hard or occasionally slacking off. Jungkook thinks helping your grandfather tend to someone else’s gardens must be a terrible way to spend the summer, but Yoongi must not have a choice. There are lots of things Jungkook has to do because he has no choice. 

A few days after the hat incident, Jungkook spots Yoongi trimming shrubs. He isn’t wearing a hat, the sun beating hot on his face, sweat dripping down his temples. Jungkook feels a swirl of something in his stomach that must be guilt. Yoongi’s given him his only hat. He hovers off to the side, hidden by the wall of the shed, and wonders how to approach. 

In the end, he can’t do it. He’s too shy. He leaves Yoongi’s hat by the shed where he can see it and runs off to wallow in embarrassment. One more day goes by, and Jungkook reminds himself that he has to be polite and well-mannered because he doesn’t want Yoongi to think Jungkook is some spoiled little kid like his cousin. This time, he wills himself to be brave like the superheroes in his comics and runs off to find Yoongi. 

He’s in the shed, and he’s wearing his hat. It’s cooler in there, and Yoongi looks like he’s taking a break. He glances up and nods when Jungkook enters. Before Yoongi can open his mouth to speak, Jungkook dips into a bow and blurts out his rehearsed speech. 

“Thank you for the peach and saying my coloring was nice and for giving me your only hat. You’re really nice. Sorry I don’t talk.”

He straightens, cheeks flaming red. Yoongi looks a little taken aback, blinking rapidly. 

“Oh,” he says. “You don’t have to talk. But you’re welcome?”

He seems confused, like he didn’t expect to be thanked, or maybe like he didn’t need to be. He must not have thought much of his gestures. Jungkook feels silly for thinking about them as much as he has. For a moment, they stand there in awkward silence, and Jungkook wonders when it’s appropriate to flee. Then Yoongi takes one of his headphones out and holds it up. 

“Wanna listen to some music?”

Jungkook’s eyes widen, dipping down to the MP3 player in Yoongi’s hand. The only music Jungkook really listens to is whatever plays in the background of his games, and sometimes the radio when the driver takes him places. Having an MP3 player and listening to music all the time seems very much like a cool, teenager thing to do. Jungkook is positive that his second cousins would never offer him a headphone. 

Tentatively, Jungkook eases himself down next to Yoongi and crosses his legs. He takes the headphone and puts it in his ear like Yoongi’s is, then he waits. Yoongi presses a button on his MP3 player. Jungkook doesn’t know what kind of music he expected Yoongi to listen to, just that it would be cool because Yoongi’s kind of cool, and he’s right enough. The beat is heavy and someone’s talking fast, almost like they’re spitting. 

“Is he angry?” Jungkook asks, and to his surprise, Yoongi doesn’t tell him he’s dumb. He laughs, but it isn’t an I’m-making-fun-of-you kind of laugh. It’s pleasant. 

“Sort of,” Yoongi muses. “This is rap. You ever listen to rap?”

Jungkook shakes his head. 

“Huh. You know, my aunt works for this other rich family and their kid gets to do whatever he wants. I’m pretty sure he knows more about the world than I do, and he’s only seven.”

“I don’t get to do a lot,” Jungkook says, even though it’s obvious. His cousin watches movies all day and gets ice cream for dinner if she throws a tantrum and has a whole room full of video games. Jungkook doesn’t get any of that. “My mom’s strict.”

Yoongi eyes him, then he nods. “Yeah. I think that’s why you’re nicer.”

“You think I’m nice?”

“Sure. You came all the way here just to say thanks, didn’t you?”

“Because it’s good manners.”

Yoongi nods again, like that proves his point. “I’m Yoongi, by the way. You can call me hyung. How old are you?”

“Jungkook. Nine. Almost ten.”

“I’m 13. Almost 14,” he says. “You’re tiny for an almost ten year old. I thought you were younger.”

“Well, you’re tiny for an almost 14 year old,” Jungkook huffs, and Yoongi laughs again.

“Maybe you’re more of a brat than I thought.” Yoongi sobers suddenly, as if thinking of something. He looks down at his MP3 player. “I think you’re too young for this song.”

“I’m not,” Jungkook says immediately. “I just said I was almost ten.”

Yoongi eyes him dubiously. “Okay. Well, don’t tell on me.”

Jungkook holds out his pinky. “I promise.”

Yoongi twines their pinkies briefly, then they settle back to keep on listening. 

Jungkook finds it far easier to talk to Yoongi after that. He’d even like to think of them as friends - at least, he’s pretty sure they’re friends. Jungkook hasn’t had enough friends to really know. But they sit together when Yoongi takes a breather every now and then, and when Yoongi stumbles on Jungkook in his little corner, he talks to him while he sweeps and weeds. 

Yoongi isn’t like everyone else. He doesn’t make fun of Jungkook for being silly or childish or weird or too quiet. If Jungkook doesn’t want to talk, Yoongi doesn’t mind. He asks about Jungkook’s games and books and coloring, and he never laughs at him in the mean way. No one ever has time to listen to Jungkook, but Yoongi always listens, and Jungkook finds that he becomes rather chatty when Yoongi’s around. He has so many questions and stories to tell and Yoongi lets him talk as much as he wants. 

Yoongi is cool. He listens to cool music and plays basketball during the school year, and he doesn’t think much of schoolwork. Sometimes he reads car magazines and shows Jungkook the motorcycle he wants to get when he’s old enough. Jungkook’s second cousins are cool, too, and that’s exactly why they don’t bother with Jungkook. Jungkook has been told more often than not that he’s weird and kind of a loser. His classmates think he’s a nerd, and his mother and her staff think he plays too many video games and needs to talk to people more instead. 

Ever since becoming friends with Yoongi, Jungkook has learned that he doesn’t mind talking to people as much as he thought he did. It just matters that they listen. 

But of course, Jungkook’s mother is strict, and her staff are even stricter. Yoongi and Jungkook’s friendship doesn’t go unnoticed for long. Part of him knows he’s doing something that will get him in trouble one day, but he doesn’t like to think about that until it happens. 

He and Yoongi are tucked by a window inside the house. Yoongi isn’t technically supposed to be inside the house, but it’s a secluded hallway and they do it all the time. Jungkook knows what parts of the house are secret enough to frequent. They’re listening to music and looking at an American music magazine Yoongi’s friend had let him borrow. 

Jungkook loses track of time, something that’s easy enough to do when he’s with Yoongi. He’s supposed to have tutoring but he forgets, and forgetting means they start looking for him. Their secluded hallway doesn’t stay secluded for long. 

It’s Jungkook’s nanny who finds him. She’s in charge of everything when his mother isn’t around, and she’s about as nice as his mother is. Her small heels click against the stone floor until she stops right before them. Jungkook’s heart freezes, and he tears the headphone from his ear. 

“Jeon Jungkook,” she says, her tone cold and hard like it always is. Even when she’s happy with him, she sounds the same. “You are fifteen minutes late and your English tutor is waiting for you.”

Jungkook scrambles to his feet, and Yoongi scrambles up next to him. Her razor-sharp gaze turns to Yoongi next. 

“You’re leaving your poor grandfather to work in the heat while you sit here distracting Jungkook.”

Yoongi’s eyes flash. His jaw tightens. Jungkook’s never seen him angry before. “I’m sorry, ma’am. My grandfather and I were both taking a break.”

“His break seems to be over. I imagine yours should be, too.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She snatches the magazine off the window seat and rifles through it, lips pursed into a thin line. Jungkook waits with bated breath. He feels like he might cry or throw up and he hates doing both of those things. 

“How are you going to read a magazine in English when you don’t show up to meet your English tutor, Jungkook?” she says coolly. “From what I’ve heard, your English hasn’t improved at all.”

His eyes burn. He looks down at his feet. She hands the magazine back to Yoongi. 

“Keep this nonsense away from him,” she tells Yoongi. 

Jungkook looks up. “I asked him to bring it. It’s my fault.”

Next to him, Yoongi winces. She glances between them, unreadable gaze. “He should know better. He’s your hyung, after all.”

Then she turns around and strides off down the hall, heels clicking and clacking. Jungkook knows without being told that he’s expected to follow. 

“Why’d you say that, dummy?” Yoongi mutters. “Shoulda let me take the blame, I’m older.”

“I always get in trouble anyway,” Jungkook shrugs.

Yoongi reaches out and pinches Jungkook’s sleeve between his fingers. “I’ll see you later, kid.”

Jungkook nods despondently and follows his nanny down the hall. 

He spends the rest of the day doing as he’s told but moping the entire time. It isn’t fair that he finally finds a friend and gets in trouble just for hanging out with him. He never gets to hang out with anyone. His cousin only visits once a year, and he doesn’t have any friends at school he can see during the summer. Even if he did, Jungkook imagines his mother wouldn’t approve of them anyway. She seems to think everyone is unimportant.

His nanny picks up on it easily enough. That evening at dinner, she brings it up again.

“You’re allowed to have friends, Jungkook,” she tells him. Her tone isn’t any gentler than it ever is. She sounds like she’s giving him an order. “But your friendships shouldn’t get in the way of what you need to do. The gardener isn’t going to speak to your mother’s business partners in English for you.”

“I don’t have to do that right now,” Jungkook says moodily, picking at his dinner because she hates it when he picks at his dinner.

“It takes years to become fluent in a language. If you don’t work hard now, you’ll never learn.”

He sighs. “But I can still hang out with Yoongi hyung?”

“As long as it doesn’t get in the way of anything else,” she allows. 

Like a fool, Jungkook believes her. 

Though he isn’t expressly forbidden from seeing Yoongi, he suddenly finds himself with a lack of free time. There’s always something to do, somewhere to be, someone new to meet. Jungkook doesn’t have time to hide in his corner or hunt Yoongi down to bother him until he’s free. Jungkook might be a kid, but he isn’t stupid. He knows his nanny’s keeping him busy on purpose. 

Sometimes he sees Yoongi through the window when he’s stuck inside, and he’ll wave, and Yoongi will wave back, and that’s that. 

The summer ends, and Yoongi goes back home. Jungkook never does get to say goodbye. 

✩✩✩

The year passes, as the years tend to do, and nothing much changes for Jeon Jungkook, save for a few small things. He turns ten years old, for one, and his mother throws him a large birthday party that he spends most of hiding in a bathroom. One of the maids gets married and pregnant then leaves, replaced by another one who looks like she’s 16 even though she’s actually 24. His mother’s away for eight months of the year instead of her usual six. And finally, she adds violin in addition to the piano lessons Jungkook already takes. 

Jungkook slogs through fourth grade amid a whirl of school and tutoring and academies and violin and piano and swimming and - 

And missing Yoongi. 

Jungkook misses Yoongi. In their time apart, Yoongi grows into someone godly in his mind, someone unreal. He figures Yoongi probably doesn’t even think about him at all, maybe doesn’t even remember him. Yoongi’s in eighth grade now, and he’s cool, and he has better things to worry about than the little kid he spent a month hanging around before they were forced to resort to waving through windows. 

But the reality doesn’t change anything; Jungkook still misses him. When his cousin comes to visit, Jungkook even dares to tell her all about his new friend, but she doesn’t believe him. 

“You?” she scoffs. “Friends with an eighth grader? Please. He probably just bullied you and you thought he was your friend because you’re dumb.”

Her words don’t particularly bother him because he knows they aren’t true. Yoongi’s the nicest person he knows. He has probably never bullied a kid in his life. But maybe she has a point about them not really being friends. Maybe Yoongi was just humoring him because he’s so nice. 

As summer nears, Jungkook’s excitement grows, despite how hard he tries to tell himself not to be excited at all. Yoongi came last summer to help his grandfather, so it follows that he may return this summer to help him again. Jungkook doesn’t dare ask anyone if he’s coming, not even the old gardener himself. His nanny has ears everywhere.

Summer begins, and Yoongi doesn’t come. 

The disappointment settles upon Jungkook’s shoulders like a weight.

Jungkook reads books about fairies that grant wishes and princesses that go to midnight balls and wonders why nothing good ever happens for him like it does in the stories. Maybe it’s because he isn’t a princess. At least his nanny hasn’t packed his schedule full of things to do this summer; she has nothing to worry about with no Yoongi. 

Summer grows hotter, and Jungkook gives up. 

Then, one miraculously free morning when Jungkook’s mathematics tutor cancels on account of being sick, he tucks himself away in his usual corner with his GameBoy. He’s so immersed in his game that he doesn’t notice the approaching footsteps until someone says his name. 

“Jungkook-ah.”

Jungkook looks up, and his eyes widen. He nearly drops his GameBoy right into the dirt. There’s Yoongi, clutching the straps of his backpack and grinning right at Jungkook like he hadn’t ever forgotten about him at all. 

“I thought you’d be here,” he says, and Jungkook’s leaping to his feet and running.

“Yoongi hyung!” 

He flings his arms around Yoongi’s waist, and Yoongi grunts but pats his back without complaint. 

“Hey, kid. Did you miss me?”

Jungkook pulls away, huffing. “No. I forgot all about you.”

Yoongi just grins. “Yeah, I figured.”

“Why are you wearing a backpack? When did you get here? How long are you staying? Are kids in eighth grade as mean as everyone says - ”

“Woah, slow down there.” Yoongi leads Jungkook back to his corner and settles onto the ground next to him. He takes off his backpack and digs inside, pulling out wrapped hotteok that’s steaming fresh. “Here, got it on the way.”

Jungkook takes one with wide eyes and bites into it right away, burning his tongue and the roof of his mouth. “Ow,” he complains, and Yoongi snorts. 

“That’s what you get for being impatient.” He blows on his own hotteok before taking a small bite. “I have something else for you, too. A real gift.”

“A gift?” Jungkook breathes. He feels abruptly guilty. He didn’t get Yoongi a gift. He should have gotten Yoongi a gift. 

“Yup.” Yoongi reaches back into his backpack with the hand that isn’t holding his hotteok and removes a CD in a jewel case. 

Jungkook takes it with reverent fingers. It’s one of the artists they had always listened to together. “It’s really for me?”

“You gotta have a boombox somewhere in that big house of yours, right?”

He nods eagerly. “I have one right in my room because I have to listen to CDs for English and Japanese practice.”

Yoongi shoots him a look. “Fun,” he mutters. “Well, listen to this instead.”

Jungkook nods again, hair flopping into his eyes, and sets the CD in his lap so he can focus on his hotteok for now. Yoongi reaches out and ruffles his hair. 

“I should go,” he says reluctantly. “My grandfather probably thinks I got kidnapped on the way here.”

“You didn’t see him first?” Jungkook says, confused, looking up at him as he stands. 

“Nope, came straight here,” Yoongi says easily. He hoists his backpack onto his shoulders. “I was hoping if I caught everyone by surprise, I’d actually get a chance to see you before they locked you away.”

He heads off down the path, skipping from one stepstone to the next. At the last one, he glances back. 

“You’re kind of like a princess locked in a tower,” he says thoughtfully, then he turns around and disappears.

Jungkook stares after him with wide eyes and red cheeks. 

Jungkook later rectifies his lack of a gift for Yoongi by making him a bouquet of flowers. They’re from the garden, of course, but Jungkook arranges them with great thought and care and ties them together with pretty ribbon. Yoongi seems thrown off guard by the gift, but he smiles and ruffles Jungkook’s hair, promising he’ll put them in his grandfather’s house. It isn’t until later that Jungkook realizes boys don’t really give other boys flower bouquets. He’d done something weird again, and like always, Yoongi hadn’t minded.

With Yoongi back, things fall into the same routine as last summer, except this time they’re more careful. No one sees them together, so no one tells Jungkook he isn’t allowed to waste his time with a friend. Everyone assumes that after a year apart, they just aren’t friends anymore. 

But they’re still friends, even better friends than before, now that they know distance and time changed nothing at all. They go back to listening to music and reading magazines, and Yoongi starts teaching Jungkook about the garden. He likes that especially, given how much he loves spending time there. It’s fun to help Yoongi transplant flowers or water the shrubs; they start giving the plants names and personalities, and it turns into something of a game. Sometimes Yoongi tells him stories about eighth grade, but usually he doesn’t like talking about school. Jungkook doesn’t really like talking about school, either, so it works out.

If there’s one thing Jungkook has learned, however, in his short time of being alive, it’s that the universe never lets him remain happy for long. 

A few weeks after Yoongi returns, Jungkook overhears a conversation. He’s been told many times that eavesdropping is an impolite thing to do, but it’s something he ends up doing without even intending to. He’s so quiet and small that no one ever notices him. There’s an alcove in the hallway outside his mother’s office, and he’s playing there when his nanny enters her office and leaves the door slightly ajar. Their voices float out, muffled but clear enough here and there.

“...I know his school has a wonderful reputation…” 

“...just doesn’t cut it.”

“...her son attends a boarding school outside the city…” 

“...if you’re hoping for a future SKY school…”  

“...I’ll look into it.”

His nanny leaves the office, and this time she closes the door all the way. She clicks and clacks off down the hallway, and Jungkook remains unnoticed. He sits perfectly still for a long moment; he doesn’t even breathe. Jungkook may be a kid, but he isn’t stupid. His mother wants to send him to a boarding school. 

Jungkook doesn’t particularly like his home, but it’s his . He knows its nooks and crannies and its creaks and whispers. Learning his way around new people is hard, but he knows all of his mother’s staff, save for the occasional new hire. He can’t go to a boarding school and surround himself with strangers. He can’t sleep in a new room where the creaks aren’t familiar and timed, where they could be the fault of anything, like a ghost or a killer or - 

Jungkook isn’t going to boarding school, and that’s that. 

His mother has never taken no for an answer, though, and Jungkook isn’t brave enough or clever enough to stand up to her. The solution seems simple enough. One of his classmates ran away last summer - she made it all the way to a different neighborhood before her parents found her. She bragged about it for days. If he leaves between lessons, no one will notice he’s gone for a few hours at least. By then, he could be anywhere.

He considers telling Yoongi, but even if Yoongi’s his friend, he’s still older. Jungkook knows he’ll tell him to find another way. So he tells no one, and that night he empties out his school bag and replaces it with things he thinks he’ll need: snacks and his toothbrush and his GameBoy, a change of clothes and a hairbrush. He stows it under his bed, and the next day, between lessons, Jungkook takes his backpack and leaves. 

He sneaks out through the garden, slipping out the back door and heading off down the street. He knows his way up until the park, so he starts in that direction and decides he’ll figure out where to go after that. He makes it to the park easily, and across it he can see shops and people, so he cuts through it. 

It’s hot and his backpack’s heavy, so he gets tired before long. He takes a break on a bench, but then a man sits next to him and asks him what he’s doing all alone, so he mumbles something about meeting his parents and books it down the sidewalk. He hadn’t considered that people might be concerned to see a kid with a backpack out all alone. 

Jungkook turns two corners and walks down three streets, and then he realizes he’s lost.

He doesn’t recognize any of his surroundings, and of course he can’t ask for directions, and that’s when he realizes he’d never even picked a destination. He’d just left. He supposes it doesn’t matter. Anywhere is better than boarding school. Maybe he can just go back to the park and sleep there, but he doesn’t know how to go back. Jungkook finds another bench, sits down, and tries not to cry. 

“Jungkook-ah!” 

The shout pulls Jungkook from his stupor. He starts, looks up, and sees Yoongi at the end of the street. He’s bent over, hands on his knees, panting like he ran all the way there. 

“Jungkook, what the hell!” he says, straightening and marching over. “You know your mom’s going to kill you, right? You know you could have gotten kidnapped, right? You know what they do to little boys running around alone - ”

The brief relief Jungkook had felt upon seeing Yoongi fades. He folds his arms over his chest moodily. “I’m not going back. You can’t make me.”

Yoongi sighs, shoulders slumping. He sits down on the bench by Jungkook, pulling his backpack onto his lap so he can sift through it. “You trying to run away with a box of crackers and three packets of instant noodles?”

Jungkook doesn’t dignify that with a response. 

Yoongi sighs again. “Want some ice cream? Hyung’s treat.”

He points at the ice cream parlor across the street. Jungkook eyes it, then he eyes Yoongi. “Okay, but I’m not going home.”

Yoongi nods. He slings Jungkook’s bag over his shoulder and starts walking, not waiting to see if Jungkook follows. 

He follows.

It takes Yoongi some digging to find the money to pay. He pulls a few bills and some candy wrappers and coins from his pockets before he finds enough to give the cashier. Jungkook feels oddly guilty. He wonders why he never thought to bring money when he decided to run away. 

They take their ice cream to a table by the window. 

“So, you gonna tell me why you ran away?” Yoongi asks through a spoonful of mint chocolate chip. 

“Mom wants to send me to a boarding school,” Jungkook mumbles. The happiness from the ice cream fades, and his shoulders slump. 

“Well, shit,” says Yoongi.

“Yeah,” Jungkook agrees. “Shit.”

Yoongi reaches across the table and flicks his forehead. “Don’t swear. When is she sending you?”

“I don’t know. I just overheard her talking about how she wanted to.”

“Couldn’t this be a good thing?” Yoongi muses. “You’re always complaining about how your mom and nanny don’t let you do anything. If you’re at boarding school, you won’t have to deal with them at all.”

“You don’t get it,” Jungkook mumbles, slumping further in his seat. His mother always scolds him when he slouches, and it feels oddly freeing to sit here in front of all these people and do what he wants. “No one likes me. I don’t have friends. But at least here I know everyone and I know what they’re like but in a new school I won’t know anything.”

Yoongi’s gaze is awfully sympathetic. “I get it,” he says.

“How could you? You’re cool. I bet everyone likes you.”

A gummy grin stretches across Yoongi’s face. “You think I’m cool, huh?”

Jungkook pouts at him over his ice cream. 

“Well,” Yoongi pauses like he’s thinking. “It’s, uh, not really like that. People don’t like me a lot.”

Jungkook frowns. “That doesn’t make sense.” Yoongi is cool and funny and nice. He has an MP3 player and listens to cool music and even dresses kind of cool. All the kids who don’t like Jungkook would probably love Yoongi. 

Yoongi clears his throat, looking away out the window. “Everyone at my school’s really rich,” he admits, “and I’m not. So they don’t like me. They just talk about their vacations and the cars their parents are going to get them when they’re in high school. I can’t talk about any of that stuff with them.”

“Oh,” Jungkook murmurs, peering carefully at Yoongi’s face. He looks uncomfortable, won’t meet Jungkook’s gaze. That isn’t something Jungkook has ever really thought about. He wonders if there are kids at his school who don’t fit in because they don’t have enough money. “Are they mean to you?”

Yoongi sniffs, rubbing his nose. “Yeah, but it’s whatever. I don’t care.”

“You don’t?” Jungkook says, because he can’t imagine that either. Not caring. He cares too much about the things everyone says to him. 

“Why should I? You think I’m cool, don’t you? That’s all I need.”

Jungkook beams. “You mean it?”

“Yup.” Yoongi reaches across the table to ruffle Jungkook’s hair. “So no boarding school no matter what?”

“No matter what.”

He nods decidedly. “Then tell your mom no.”

Jungkook blinks at him. “I can’t do that. She’ll just make me. She never cares if I say no.”

“Tell her if she sends you away, you’ll get into fights every day and you won’t do any of your homework. But if she lets you stay, you’ll be perfect and you’ll never give her any trouble.”

“That could work,” he hums. “Right?”

“Sure it could. Just be convincing. Throw a tantrum or something.”

“Tantrums don’t really work for me.”

“Okay, then no tantrum. Just be really serious. Let her know you mean business.”

“Okay,” Jungkook decides. “I’ll do it. I’ll say no.”

It turns out he never does have to tell her no; the matter of boarding school is never brought up again. She must have decided it wasn’t a good idea after all, and Jungkook doesn’t have to resort to threats. He is, however, punished thoroughly for running away. He’s in so much trouble that he doesn’t get the chance to sneak away and see Yoongi for a full two weeks. 

When he finally does see him, things are different, but it’s in a good way. After their brief heart-to-heart, they’re closer, and Jungkook thinks he understands Yoongi just a little bit more. They return to being exceedingly careful that no one catches them, and the summer passes quickly and happily until it ends and Yoongi has to go home again. 

✩✩✩

When he turns 11, Jungkook feels a little older. 

Usually, his birthdays mean very little. But the day he turns 11, he feels different, like something’s changed, and from then on things grow progressively different and more different. 5th grade is harder, and suddenly everyone acts older, and Jungkook might feel older but he still can’t keep up. Some of the boys in his class have started talking about girls, and that particular topic makes Jungkook feel strange and out of place. 

He doesn’t have anyone to ask about all the different things, either, because he only has his nanny and his mother and he could never ask them. His mother doesn’t let him have a phone, and his computer time is severely restricted, so he has no way of talking to Yoongi, either. As with everything, Jungkook muddles through it alone. 

His bullies only grow bolder with age. Jungkook’s still small for 11, but some of the boys have started to grow. Once, when the boys in his class are talking about girls and Jungkook’s drawing at his desk, they turn to him with their usual sneers. The worst of them says, “Jungkook wouldn’t get it because he’s gay . Right, Jungkook?” They all laugh, and it’s mean, and Jungkook’s face flames red and his stuttered disavowals go unheard. “Leave me alone,” he says, but that only makes them laugh more because they’re always teasing him for refusing to swear when the rest of them have recently discovered the joy in it. 

He doesn’t have anyone to ask what it means that they think he’s gay. He doesn’t think he is; he isn’t attracted to girls, but he isn’t attracted to boys, either. He just doesn’t like thinking about that sort of thing. He doesn’t feel old enough for it. 

So Jungkook counts down the days to summer with a desperate fervor. He keeps a calendar by his bed and marks off each day with a satisfied X. After two summers in a row, he has no doubt that Yoongi will return this summer, and that’s the only thing he has to look forward to. His life is nothing but school and lessons and school and lessons. He doesn’t have the time to do anything else, and even when he does, he finds that he doesn’t want to. His rare free time is spent lying aimlessly in bed or sitting by the window. Sometimes he draws, but even that seems to be slipping from his grasp. 

And then school lets out, and Jungkook waits with bated breath for Yoongi’s return. One afternoon, he spends two full hours staring out the window, and that scares him. He hadn’t even realized where the time had gone. 

After a week, Yoongi finally shows up. 

Jungkook is on his way to a lesson when he passes the back entrance and sees him. He’s standing with his grandfather, and there’s luggage behind them. They’re speaking to the housekeeper, who sounds stern; Yoongi has his head bowed in respect as he listens. 

“I understand,” he’s saying, and she nods and sends them off. 

Jungkook hesitates, watching Yoongi and his grandfather wheel the luggage out the door. He wants to run to him and fling his arms around him like he did last summer, but Jungkook understands that he’s too old for that now. That Yoongi is, too. The year has changed Yoongi more than it has changed Jungkook. He’s taller, lankier, the bones of his face more prominent. He looks older, and Jungkook considers that he’ll be starting high school soon. 

Jungkook bites his lip and disappears unnoticed, but Yoongi doesn’t leave his head all day. 

He finds him in the garden later, and Yoongi beams at the sight of him. Unlike Jungkook, he doesn’t seem to have any qualms about their time apart. 

“Hey, look at you,” he says, ruffling Jungkook’s hair like he always does. “You look taller.”

“So do you,” Jungkook responds, shoving his hands into his pockets. He scuffs his feet against the path. 

“Come here,” Yoongi says, beckoning and heading off down the path. Jungkook follows him to the shed, where Yoongi grabs his backpack from a hidden corner. He pulls out a CD in a jewel case, just like last summer. “It’s a mixtape,” he tells him. “I put all the new songs I liked this year on it.”

Jungkook takes it from him, peering at the notecard Yoongi has stuck in the cover, covered in his messy scrawl. He’s written all the song names and artists down. Abruptly, there’s a lump in Jungkook’s throat. 

“Thanks, hyung,” he says quietly, and Yoongi smiles. 

“Didn’t you get me something, brat?”

Jungkook made him something, actually, a book - he’d bound it with ribbon and decorated the cover with swirls and hearts and flowers. Inside, he’d glued letters - all the ones he’d written over the year when he’d wanted to talk to Yoongi but had no way to reach him. 

But looking at Yoongi now, and how grown-up he seems, Jungkook feels silly and childish. He swallows, looking down at the ground. 

“No,” he says. 

Yoongi, perhaps picking up on his discomfort, reaches out to ruffle his hair again. “I’m just teasing,” he says. “Hey, I have good news. You wanna know what it is?”

Jungkook looks up, curiosity piqued. 

“I’m staying here for good.”

For a moment, the words don’t process. Jungkook stares at him, blinks, and then it hits him. Yoongi’s staying. He’s staying. 

“Hyung!” Jungkook cries, all his doubt disappearing in a swirl of happiness. “You mean it?”

Yoongi nods. “My parents want me to go to a high school near here, so I’ll be staying with my grandfather while I go to school.”

His grandfather lives in a small place at the edge of their property. Yoongi will be so close all year, not just during the few meager weeks of summer. Jungkook’s so happy he feels fit to burst. He stares at him, too overwhelmed to express his excitement, and has the abrupt realization that Yoongi is all he has. 

✩✩✩

High school changes Yoongi. 

He has always hidden things from Jungkook, and Jungkook knows that; he understands that it’s a symptom of their age difference. But that distance starts to intensify. Jungkook can tell Yoongi’s hiding things, that he answers questions in a way designed to placate and evade. 

He starts dressing differently, more ripped jeans and leather jackets and oversized t-shirts. His ears are soon covered in piercings, something that makes Jungkook jealous; he’s always wanted to pierce his ears, but his mother is adamantly against it. Sometimes, Yoongi smells like cigarette smoke. From Jungkook’s balcony, he can see Yoongi’s grandfather’s house clearly, and when Jungkook can’t sleep, he spots Yoongi sneaking home well past his curfew. 

Their relationship doesn’t change, necessarily. Yoongi is still indulgent and doting, still makes time for Jungkook and talks to him in that blunt way of his. But Jungkook feels the distance anyway. He feels like he’s getting left behind in more ways than one. The students around him are growing up, too, now that he’s in middle school, and Yoongi’s growing up even more, but Jungkook’s still stuck with his old childishness. Even his cousin has a boyfriend now. 

It isn’t his fault he isn’t interested in the same things as everyone else, and it isn’t their fault that they are. Jungkook knows that. Still, it makes him bitter, like everyone is hoarding a secret he can’t ever know, like he’s being left out on purpose. 

With Yoongi always around, it grows hard to hide their friendship from everyone else. His nanny catches on first, and then she tells his mother, and then Jungkook’s sat down for an hour-long conversation about choosing his friends properly. 

“You’re getting older now,” his mother tells him. “The friends you choose will determine the course of your life. Is Yoongi the kind of influence you want?”

Yes, Jungkook wants to tell her, he is. He wants to be like Yoongi. Confident, unafraid, free. But Jungkook will never be like that, even without his mother tying him down. He isn’t that kind of person. 

“I understand,” he says instead, and then he goes up to his room and cries. 

At first, he pushes the boundaries a little and hangs out with Yoongi one evening in the garden. They watch a show on Yoongi’s phone, one headphone each. Yoongi smells like cigarettes again. Jungkook wants to ask him about it, but he’s afraid Yoongi will hide the truth, and then Jungkook will just feel worse. So he doesn’t ask. 

When he returns to the house, his nanny lays out his punishment: three weeks with no free time. He doesn’t dare push the boundaries after that. 

But he doesn’t have to because Yoongi, unlike Jungkook, has no trouble breaking rules.

Jungkook’s struggling with his science homework late one night when he hears a thump on his balcony. He frowns, craning his neck to look over, thinking it must be an animal. Instead he finds Yoongi crouching by the glass door, hand poised to knock. Jungkook’s eyes widen comically, and he leaps to his feet, tugging the door open. 

“Hyung, what are you doing?” he hisses, and Yoongi gestures for him to hush. 

“Not so loud,” he whispers, tugging off his shoes and slipping into Jungkook’s room. Jungkook closes the door firmly and yanks his curtains shut over it. 

“How did you even get up here?”

“Sheer willpower,” Yoongi says solemnly, then he bends over, hands on his knees, and tries to catch his breath. “It was fucking hard, that’s what it was,” he rasps, and Jungkook is startled into laughter. 

“Old man.”

“Respect your elders, you brat. Can’t you get me some water or something?”

Jungkook pours him a cup from the jug on his desk, still grinning. Yoongi gulps it down and collapses in Jungkook’s desk chair. He looks around curiously, taking in his room, and Jungkook feels abruptly self-conscious. His room isn’t much to look at. His mother doesn’t let him hang up posters, so the walls are bare save for a few works of art. It’s connected to a sitting area with his TV and video game consoles, which is where he spends most of his time. 

“Where are the anime posters?” Yoongi snarks, and Jungkook kicks the leg of the chair. 

“Are you gonna tell me what you’re doing climbing my balcony at 10 o’clock or what?”

“I’m hanging out with you, the hell does it look like?”

Jungkook kicks the leg of his chair again, flushing. “You went through all that just to hang out?”

“Sure I did, or I’d never get to see you again, princess .”

“Hyung,” Jungkook complains, but Yoongi just laughs. 

“Where’s the dragon?” he teases. “I’ve climbed up to your tower, so there should be a dragon next, right?”

“Please, like you’d stand a chance against a dragon.”

“I come all the way up here to see you, and you disrespect me?”

Jungkook’s giggling, can’t help himself. “Hyung, you’re too much.”

“So where’s that new laptop of yours? We should watch a movie.”

Jungkook nods, fetching it from his shelf and lowering himself to the floor at the edge of his bed. He folds his legs underneath him and starts hunting around for a movie to watch. Yoongi joins him on the floor, leaning against the bed, shoulder brushing Jungkook’s. They settle on some mindless action flick, and Jungkook forgets all about the homework sitting on his desk. 

“Where were you coming from so late?” Jungkook asks after a while, pinching the sleeve of Yoongi’s bomber jacket. He clearly hadn’t snuck over from his grandfather’s place. Yoongi hesitates, and Jungkook sighs. “Never mind, I know you’re not gonna tell me anything.”

Yoongi frowns. “What’s that mean?”

“You never tell me anything,” Jungkook mumbles, shifting his gaze back to his laptop screen. He can feel Yoongi’s gaze burning the side of his head, but he doesn’t meet it. On screen, a girl in a jumpsuit dropkicks an alien. 

Yoongi turns his attention back to the movie, too. “I like her,” he says a little while later, when the girl’s arguing with her partner. 

“Why, ‘cause she’s hot?” Jungkook teases, because the guys in his class only ever care about girls in movies when they think they’re hot.

Again, Yoongi hesitates. This time, Jungkook looks at him, wondering why he’s pausing when he could have just laughed it off. Yoongi’s looking back. 

“I, uh, don’t like girls like that,” Yoongi admits, and Jungkook’s heart skips a beat out of pure surprise. Yoongi looks nervous in that trademark way of his, when he starts to look standoffish and uninterested. Jungkook knows him well enough to know it’s nerves. “I’m gay.”

“Oh,” Jungkook says, and then, because he knows his reaction matters, “Cool. That’s cool.”

Yoongi blinks at him, and then he nods and looks back at the movie. But he’s twisting his fingers in his lap, sleeves tugged past his wrists, and Jungkook can tell he’s still not satisfied. 

“It’s cool, hyung,” Jungkook repeats, patting his arm. “Thanks for telling me. I guess you do tell me things sometimes.”

Yoongi shoots him the ghost of a wry smile. “Brat,” he says fondly.

“Does anyone know? Your family?”

He sighs. “My parents, uh, they found out. That’s why they sent me away.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen in surprise. “I thought you came here for school.”

He shakes his head. “They didn’t want to deal with me, so they handed me off to my grandfather.”

“Does he know?”

“He actually doesn’t care. He says he’s too old to care about stupid things like that.”

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook mumbles. He knows Yoongi had never been particularly close to his parents, but still. That must have been hard. “That sucks.”

“It’s okay,” Yoongi shrugs. “I like it better here, anyway.”

“Of course you do. I’m here.”

Yoongi shoves at him, but it does the trick. He’s grinning. “Stop asking questions and watch the damn movie.”

“Yes, sir,” Jungkook snarks.

Their nightly meetings turn into something of a routine. Jungkook doesn’t always know when Yoongi’s going to show up, but he does show up frequently enough, knocking on his balcony door and begging for water. They watch movies and play video games together, even though Yoongi’s terrible at everything, and sometimes Yoongi helps Jungkook with his homework. He’s actually much better at school than Jungkook would have guessed. 

During the day, if they spot each other in the garden, they pretend they’re strangers. No hellos, no nods, no pauses to chat. But even that turns into something of a game; Yoongi will wink, or Jungkook will flash a peace sign behind his back, or Yoongi will drop a flower in his path. Those moments feel special to Jungkook, their little secret, and sometimes he finds himself dwelling on them far longer than necessary. 

Jungkook may be a teenager now, but he makes no progress on the friendship front when it comes to school. He’s always alone, but it no longer wears on him the way it did when he was a child. He may be alone during the day, but at night he has Yoongi, and that’s more than enough. 

But, like Jungkook has learned, good things never last for long. 

One evening, Yoongi sneaks up to Jungkook’s balcony only to ask if he’ll sneak back down with him. 

“What?” Jungkook hisses. “I can’t do that.”

“Come on, Jungkook-ah, live a little.”

“You’re my hyung, you’re not supposed to tell me to break the rules.”

Yoongi snorts at that. “I tell you to break the rules all the time.”

“I said fuck last week and you flicked my forehead.”

Yoongi reaches out and flicks his forehead. “Yeah, so what are you saying it again for, huh?”

Jungkook huffs. “Why do you want me to sneak out, anyway? What are we doing?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Hyung!”

“Come on, you won’t get caught. Just for a few hours. Don’t you wanna hang out with me somewhere that isn’t your room?”

Jungkook does. He really does. He only goes out in very structured instances, never gets the chance to let loose. A night out with Yoongi sounds like a dream. But it’s scary. He has never had the chance to enjoy himself, and he’s afraid he won’t even know what to do. And he’s even more afraid that one night out will ruin him forever, that he’ll never be satisfied with his life again. 

“Okay,” he breathes, and Yoongi smiles. 

Yoongi teaches Jungkook his convoluted way of sneaking down the balcony. Jungkook is considerably more active than Yoongi because he’s been on the baseball team since he was six, but even he’s out of breath by the time he climbs to the ground. He can’t help the surreptitious glances he keeps throwing over his shoulder as they flee through the lawn and out the back door of the gate surrounding Jungkook’s home. When they step out onto the street, Jungkook’s breathless from excitement rather than exertion. 

He takes a moment just to stare at the road, streetlights shining around them. Most of the houses are dim, their inhabitants asleep. Jungkook’s heart sprouts wings and takes flight, his body thrumming with the thrill of breaking the rules. Of feeling free. 

“Come on,” Yoongi calls, jerking his head as he heads off down the street. Jungkook scrambles to follow. 

They turn the corner, and Yoongi stops at a motorcycle parked on the side of the road. It’s big and black, the handles long and the seat low. Jungkook pauses at the sight of it, confused when Yoongi gets on and holds out a helmet. 

“We don’t have all night,” he says, and Jungkook moves. 

“When did you get a motorcycle, hyung?” he complains. “You didn’t tell me! You never tell me anything.”

Yoongi just grins. “Are you gonna get on or not?”

“This is so cool. You have to teach me how to ride it. Hyung!”

“Yeah, yeah, can we go?”

Jungkook takes the helmet, puts it on, and climbs onto the bike behind Yoongi. He wraps his arms around Yoongi’s waist, exactly twice as excited as he was before, and tightens his grip when they take off. The cool nighttime air whips his face and his t-shirt, and Jungkook can’t stop grinning. 

“Hyung!” he exclaims, just because he can’t think of any words to describe how happy he feels. Yoongi seems to understand; he just laughs. 

They end up in Dongdaemun, which Jungkook recognizes from the time he came to a mall here with his cousin and aunt. He’s never been to the night market, though, and his eyes nearly pop out of his head when he sees it. The streets swarm with people, many of them tourists, and there are stalls with food and clothes and everything imaginable lining the streets. 

Jungkook’s leaping off the motorcycle before Yoongi fully parks, running off toward the nearest food stall and beckoning for Yoongi to follow. He does, calling for him to wait up, but Jungkook’s too excited to wait. 

“We’re getting lamb skewers,” Jungkook announces, joining the sizable crowd in front of a stall that smells absolutely delicious. 

“Whatever you want, kid,” Yoongi says, fond, and Jungkook beams. 

Yoongi insists on paying. Jungkook tries to argue; now that he’s older, he’s a little more conscious of the fact that his family has a lot more money than Yoongi’s family. But Yoongi argues him down. 

“I’m the hyung,” he insists, and eventually Jungkook relents. 

They spend most of their time eating - lamb skewers and hot dogs covered in french fries and blood sausages. Jungkook tries on a pair of ridiculous sunglasses at a stall for trinkets just to make Yoongi laugh, but other than that, neither of them are particularly interested in shopping. Jungkook’s just happy to be there, drinking in the sights and the smells and all the very, very different people he sees. He wonders why he’d ever felt afraid at all. 

When they’re buying sodas at yet another food stall, Jungkook looks over at Yoongi and feels the beginnings of warmth spreading through him. It grows until it’s overwhelming, and tears prick his eyelids. Yoongi isn’t looking; he’s squinting at the menu. Jungkook thinks about how different he looks now compared to when they first met, how much older; Yoongi’s nearly an adult now. 

Jungkook doesn’t feel as left behind as he usually does. Yoongi might be running on ahead, but he always remembers to look back. 

Yoongi finally catches the weight of Jungkook’s gaze and looks over. “What?” He nudges him, lips twitching. 

“Nothing,” Jungkook mumbles, looking away. 

“Hey, you wanna go sit by the river? We can buy ramen.”

Jungkook perks up at the thought of ramen, and Yoongi snorts. 

“All this food, and you’re still hungry. Knew it.”

“I’m a growing boy, hyung.”

They get their sodas and hop back on Yoongi’s motorcycle, stopping at a convenience store to boil some ramen and carry it down to the river. It’s busy enough despite the time of night, but they find a nice spot and settle in. 

“I have to tell you something,” Yoongi says, his voice uncharacteristically serious. 

Jungkook looks over and finds him looking down at his hands, a bitter twist to his lips. “What?” he says, and suddenly he’s scared. 

“I’m leaving.” Yoongi finally looks up, and there’s sadness etched into the lines of his face. “After I graduate.”

He’s graduating in a month. Jungkook hadn’t been worried. Yoongi wasn’t planning on university, so foolishly Jungkook had thought that meant he’d stay, that he’d still be there working in their garden every afternoon. Now he realizes how silly that sounds. Yoongi isn’t going to be here forever. He has dreams, too.

“Oh,” Jungkook manages. He sets his cup of ramen down. He isn’t hungry anymore. “Where are you going?”

“I got a job at an auto shop across the city. I’m moving in with some friends from high school.”

He’d gone the vocational school route, Jungkook knows, and trained to be a mechanic in his last few years of school. But there are auto shops everywhere. He doesn’t have to go so far. “Couldn’t you stay here?” Jungkook asks quietly, and Yoongi sighs. 

“The house my grandfather lives in belongs to your mother.” His tone is careful, like he doesn’t quite know how to say it. “She was, uh, kind enough to let him stay there without paying for his rent. But it belongs to her, and I’m not - I’m not part of the deal.”

Jungkook understands. He flares hot with sudden anger. “She’s kicking you out.”

Yoongi winces. Jungkook doesn’t understand why he won’t just come out with it, why he’s trying to protect him. He must be furious, too. He must hate Jungkook’s mother. “I’m technically mooching off her, you know.”

“You work on the landscaping. You don’t get paid for that. The least she can do is let you stay in your home - ”

Yoongi rests a hand on Jungkook’s arm. “It’s okay. It’ll be kind of nice to get out and do my own thing.”

Jungkook stares at him, too angry and devastated for words. He’s leaving. He’s leaving, and Jungkook will be alone again. “Hyung,” he finally says, because as usual, he doesn’t know what else to say. 

“I’ll come and visit,” Yoongi promises. “It’ll be okay, Jungkookie.”

Jungkook doesn’t think it’ll be okay. He thinks it feels like his entire world has come crashing down around his shoulders. And the worst part is that he should have seen it coming. Good things never last for long. He’d always known he and Yoongi wouldn’t be together forever. 

✩✩✩

Jungkook buys Yoongi a record player for his graduation, and he doesn’t cry the day he packs his things and leaves. 

He cries the day after. Great, heaving sobs that take him by surprise when he wakes up the next morning and remembers. He cries so hard he makes himself sick. Then he gets up and starts his day, because he has violin lessons and baseball practice and tutoring, and because life goes on no matter how badly you don’t want to go on with it. 

✩✩✩

One month after Yoongi leaves, Jungkook stands up to his mother for the first time in his life.

He’s waiting impatiently in her office, picking at a loose thread on his pants, while she discusses finances with her accountant. She’d called him in to talk about his grades, but the accountant had interrupted. He’s growing steadily more annoyed by the minute. His mother can’t even set aside a full ten minutes for him. 

They’re discussing employee paychecks.

“We might have to consider replacing Mr. Min,” she’s saying. “The work is getting too difficult for him, and he’s taking up space in that house that I could be using for something else.”

Jungkook’s head shoots up. He wraps the loose thread around his finger until his skin turns white and rips it off. 

“He ought to retire,” her accountant agrees. “I can talk to Mrs. Lee on my way out about hiring someone?”

“You can’t fire Mr. Min,” Jungkook blurts, and his mother and her accountant turn to him in unison. He refuses to be cowed, glaring back at them defiantly. “Of course the work’s too hard for him alone. You’re the one who got rid of Yoongi.”

“This doesn’t concern you, Jungkook. Wait quietly until I’m done.”

“You can’t fire him. He can’t retire, what money is he going to retire on? Where is he going to go? You already kicked Yoongi out of his home, you can’t kick him out, too - ”

Her mouth presses into a thin line. She turns to the accountant. “I’ll finish discussing this with you later,” she says. “Thank you for stopping by.”

“Of course.” He bows his way out. 

As soon as he’s gone, Jungkook continues. Now that he’s started, it seems like he can’t stop. “You can’t just push an old man out of his home. He’s worked for us forever, that’s not fair. You’re just being greedy.”

“Jeon Jungkook,” his mother hisses, and he knows that voice, knows he’s crossed a line he can’t uncross. But he doesn’t care.

He stands up, hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Maybe you should think about other people for once instead of money. As if you didn’t have enough already.”

“My money is what you’re living such a comfortable life on,” she snaps. “Don’t be so ungrateful.”

“If you fire Mr. Min, I’m going to run away for real this time.”

Jungkook spins on his heel and runs out of her office before he can ruin his tirade by bursting into tears. 

She orders him down to dinner that night, where she tells him she’s thought about what he said, and that he’s right. No one knows their property like Mr. Min does, and training someone new wouldn’t be worth the hassle. She tells him that how he spoke to her was unacceptable, and that next time if he wants a say in financial matters, then he can do so politely. Jungkook nods and nods until she’s done, wondering how he’d grown the balls to speak to her the way he did that morning. Her punishment, as always, is no free time. 

Jungkook doesn’t really care. He doesn’t have enough energy to do anything with his free time. He would have spent it lying in his bed staring out the window anyway. 

By the time his punishment is lifted, school has started again. It’s his last year of middle school, and the work is difficult, and he hates it as much as he always does. He’s old enough now to understand that he’s depressed. He finds no enjoyment in anything, rarely has the energy or the interest to do anything at all unless he’s being forced to. Finally, Jungkook begins to realize that he’s been depressed for a long time - since he was a child. 

But there isn’t really anything he can do about it. There isn’t anyone he can tell, either.

Yoongi visits his grandfather every now and then, but over the year, Jungkook only catches him twice. Just twice. Both times, he sneaks out and knocks on Mr. Min’s door, and Mr. Min lets him in and sits him down next to Yoongi at the table and pulls out his favorite pastries. The visits are nice, but they aren’t enough. They feel too short to hold all the things Jungkook wants to say in them. 

And then middle school is over and Jungkook’s thrust headlong into high school, where everything changes quite drastically. 

His mother tosses him into an internship at her company. He hates it. Her company is full of sycophants, and even if Jungkook had an interest in learning, he would learn nothing because no one does anything but compliment him. Even when he makes a mistake, someone runs to cover it up. The other interns resent him for the special treatment, and as usual, he makes no friends.

He thought everyone grew up too much entering middle school, but high school is much worse. Suddenly everyone’s acting like adults, sneaking out to smoke behind the building and whispering about alcohol and talking about dating. Jungkook wouldn’t mind it if they weren’t so mean to him about it. The boys in his class leave ugly notes on his back and kick his chair when he walks by and laugh when they see him. 

Little baby Jungkook , they’ll say. Should we give him a baby bottle full of soju?  

He probably still sucks on his mother’s tits. 

Bet she’s the only girl he’s ever kissed.

Jeon Jungkook’s fucking gay, didn’t you know?

Wonder if he’s kissed a cock.

The only good thing about high school is that his mother finally allows him to keep a cellphone. The first thing he does when it arrives is run down to Mr. Min’s house and ask him for Yoongi’s phone number. Then he texts him, and Yoongi calls him right back and shouts his name gleefully down the line. 

“Fucking finally!” he cries, and Jungkook smiles, really smiles, for what feels like the first time in forever. 

They talk late at night every now and then, when Yoongi’s done with work and dinner, and Jungkook’s locked himself in his room to pretend he’s studying. He doesn’t tell him about the bullying, or about the sycophants at work, or about his fights with his mother, which seem to happen all the time ever since the first one. Somehow, all of these things feel too embarrassing, like Jungkook should be able to deal with them. He doesn’t want to admit that a couple of boys on his baseball team had stolen his underwear in the locker room, and he’d had to walk out naked after his shower and listen to them make fun of his dick. He doesn’t want to admit that he’d fought with his mother to get out of violin and piano, and she’d told him fine, you were terrible at both anyway . 

Jungkook doesn’t want Yoongi to know how pathetic he really is. 

So they talk about other things - TV shows and music and Yoongi’s annoying neighbors, who even Jungkook can hear shouting in the background. Yoongi tells him about his two roommates, who he wishes Jungkook could meet. They’d love you , Yoongi promises, because you’re so cute . Jungkook tells him about the stray cat that has found a way to sneak into the gardens and how Yoongi’s grandfather is always leaving treats out for her. 

Sometimes, when Jungkook’s heading home after another miserable day, he’ll get a text from Yoongi that’s just a funny picture or an observation, and the tension will leave Jungkook’s shoulders in an instant. 

I miss you , Jungkook texts Yoongi on a very late night that’s nearly turned into morning.

Despite the hour, Yoongi texts him right back. Me, too. Maybe you could come visit . 

Maybe , Jungkook replies, but he doesn’t know if that’s possible. He doesn’t know how to make it work. 

The opportunity comes in a roundabout way. 

Jungkook should have seen it coming. That morning, a boy in his class makes a lewd gesture at him when he walks by, accompanied with a joke about how often Jungkook sucks dick. Jungkook is tired. “Sounds like you’re the one who likes sucking cock,” he answers, falling into his seat. “You talk about it all the time.”

The boy’s face changes. His eyes harden, and he snaps up and out of his seat with intent. “What the fuck did you say to me, Jeon Jungkook?”

He stops at the edge of Jungkook’s desk, leaning over and grabbing the sides. The bullies don’t really scare Jungkook anymore. He’s just tired of them. So he stares back, and he isn’t afraid; he’s tired. 

The boy can tell. 

“In your seats,” calls the teacher, stepping inside the room, and the boy gives Jungkook one last glare, jostles his desk, and leaves him alone. 

Jungkook should have seen it coming, but he doesn’t. 

It happens after baseball practice. Jungkook’s changing back into his school uniform when the door bangs open, and he hears voices float from the entryway. Everyone else had already finished changing and left, but Jungkook waits to shower last after the previous incident, so he’s running behind. 

The worst of his bullies, Sangwoo, is at the head of the group that walks in, joined by the boy from the morning and a few others. Jungkook tenses at the sight of them. He sets his jaw tight and shoves his baseball uniform into his backpack, zipping it as fast as he can without looking like he’s rushing. 

“Look who it is,” Sangwoo sneers. “Little baby Jungkook.”

“Not a baby anymore, huh?” one of the others says. “Hear what he said this morning?”

Jungkook slings his backpack over his shoulder and tries to shove past them, but Sangwoo grabs him by the shoulder and shoves him back. “Leave me alone,” Jungkook says.

“Not a chance. You think we’re gonna let you off after acting out like that?”

“Fuck you,” Jungkook spits.

Sangwoo grabs him by the collar and drives his fist right into Jungkook’s face, sending his head snapping sideways. Pain bursts through his eye and head and cheek, vision blurring, and he sputters a cough. He struggles to break away, clawing at his hand, but Sangwoo’s grip is too tight to shake. He punches him again, and someone comes behind him to hold his head back by the hair. Jungkook can taste blood on his lips. 

The next blow is aimed at his stomach, and Jungkook doubles over in pain, straining against the hand in his hair, gasping for breath. There are pinpricks of pain all over his scalp, and he barely has time to register the pain in his belly before he’s hit again. 

Sangwoo grabs him by the neck and shoves him down. He falls on his shoulder with a thud, groaning in pain, and one of the boys kicks him in the side. Everything hurts too much for him to move, so for a second he lies still, gritting his teeth. 

“Fucking bitch,” Sangwoo spits. 

Then he unzips his pants. 

“What are you doing?” says one of the other boys, and he sounds a little afraid, and Jungkook’s heart starts to beat faster. 

“Showing him who really loves sucking cock,” Sangwoo says.

Jungkook’s eyes widen and his stomach clenches and suddenly he can’t breathe. He pushes himself up to sitting and scrambles backward, feels like he’s choking, bumps into the wall and trembles. 

“That’s fucked up,” someone says, but no one moves to stop Sangwoo when he tugs his dick out of his pants. 

Jungkook can’t move anymore. He’s frozen. 

The locker room door bangs open. “Out of here in ten seconds or I lock you in here all night!” Their coach’s shout rings through the room. The entryway is around the corner; he can’t see them. 

“Shit, let’s go,” one of the boys hisses, grabbing Sangwoo and tugging him away. 

Sangwoo spares one last glare for Jungkook before he zips his pants back up and follows the others out. 

Jungkook chokes out a gasp, and his body’s shaking too hard for him to get up. 

“Jeon Jungkook, I know you’re still in there!” The coach shouts, and Jungkook leaps to his feet. 

He stumbles, clutching the wall for support, and then he bolts. Their coach catches him at the door by the wrist, squinting at his face. “What happened to you?” he asks. 

Jungkook stares at him. He can’t will his lips to move. He snatches his arm out of his grasp and runs, clutching the straps of his backpack, off in the opposite direction from where he can see Sangwoo and the others heading. He runs faster than he’s ever run in his life, legs pumping and breath coming painfully tight. He runs until he’s somewhere in the city he doesn’t even know, shoving past people on the sidewalk, barely registering their annoyed shouts. 

He slows only when his heart feels like it’s about to burst from his chest. Even then he doesn’t dare sit, just stands there in the middle of the sidewalk and tries to catch his breath. He’s supposed to go to the tutoring center after practice. His driver’s probably still waiting outside the school. 

His phone buzzes in his pocket. Jungkook pulls it out. 

Listen to this song , says Yoongi. He’s attached a link. 

Jungkook starts to cry. 

Once he starts, he can’t stop. The sobs wrack his body, making it hard to breathe; he thinks he might be hyperventilating, and he falls to his knees, arms wrapped tightly around himself. People must be staring, but no one comes near him. He dials Yoongi’s number. He can’t breathe. 

“Jungkook-ah, I’m still at work - ”

“Hyung,” Jungkook sobs, and Yoongi goes quiet. “Hyung, pl-please - ”

“Jungkook,” Yoongi’s voice sounds very firm and very steady. “What’s wrong?”

“Pl-please, come - come - ” 

He can’t talk, he’s crying too hard. He fights for breath, and his gasping sounds painful even to his own ears. 

“Jungkook-ah, kid, I need you to take a deep breath for me. Can you do that? Take a big, deep breath for hyung. Count to 5, I’ll count with you.”

Jungkook inhales and listens to Yoongi count to 5. 

“Good, now exhale and I’m gonna count to 5 again.”

He does. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 . 

“Good job, kiddo. One more time, can you do that?”

He inhales, and Yoongi counts to 5. He exhales, and Yoongi counts to 5. His breath trembles, but his heartbeat has begun to slow down. 

“Good, now can you tell me what’s going on?”

“Can you - ” Jungkook’s voice shakes. He inhales and exhales again. “Can you come pick me up? Please.”

“Send me your location, Jungkook-ah. I’ll be there as fast as I can. Can you wait somewhere safe?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me what’s safe.”

“There’s a - there’s a coffee shop. I’ll sit inside.”

“Okay. I’m gonna hang up, so keep breathing, okay? I’ll be there soon.”

Yoongi hangs up, and Jungkook rises on trembling feet. He doesn’t want to go inside the shop, thinks they might even kick him out, looking like he does right now. He crouches just outside the shop window instead, arms wrapped tightly around his knees. He doesn’t know how long he waits there, staring resolutely at the busy road ahead of him. At one point, a girl crouches next to him and hands him a pack of tissues. She doesn’t wait for thanks, scurrying off down the sidewalk, and Jungkook uses the tissues to wipe away his tears. 

When Yoongi pulls up to the sidewalk on his motorcycle, the tension in Jungkook’s shoulders finally eases. He rubs at his eyes, wincing when the harshness of the movement irritates his swollen face, and stands. Yoongi hops off his motorcycle, and Jungkook doesn’t miss the way his eyes widen at the sight of them. Then they narrow, and his mouth tightens to a harsh line. He stops before Jungkook, raising a tentative hand. When Jungkook doesn’t pull away, he brushes his fingers over a bruise on his cheek. 

“I’m taking you to my place,” Yoongi says quietly. “Do you think anything’s broken?”

Jungkook shrugs. His sides hurt, and he wouldn’t be surprised if their kicks had broken a rib. But right now the pain isn’t intense; there’s too much adrenaline racing through his veins for him to really feel it yet. 

“Can you ride? Should I call a taxi instead?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “I can ride.”

Yoongi hands him the helmet, and Jungkook pulls it on. He gets on the bike behind Yoongi, wrapping his arms around his waist. When Yoongi takes off, Jungkook rests his head on Yoongi’s back and closes his eyes. The wind pushes his hair into his eyes.  

Before he knows it, Yoongi’s parking and helping Jungkook off the bike. They’re at an apartment building, and Yoongi takes Jungkook through a side door and up the elevator until they reach the tenth floor. His apartment is all the way at the end of the hall. Jungkook steps in after him, suddenly feeling nervous and out of place. He has always wanted to see Yoongi’s place. 

They kick their shoes off in the entryway, and a voice rings down the hall - “Yoongi, did you bring soju?” Then, after a pause, “Wait, Yoongi, why are you home?”

Jungkook swallows, shoving his hands in his pockets. Yoongi beckons for him to follow. There are two girls in his TV room, his roommates; Jungkook has heard enough about them to recognize them right away. The one with the long, red hair is Minji, who eats very well and takes two-hour baths even when the rest of them are on a schedule. The blond one with bangs is Hyojin, who produces music in her bedroom and never cleans up after herself.

They’re both craning their necks to look over the back of the couch at Jungkook. He swallows again, unconsciously shrinking into himself. 

“This is Jungkook,” Yoongi says briefly, and the two of them peer at Jungkook for a second longer before they both stand up. 

“I’ll grab the first aid kit,” says Hyojin. 

“I’ll put on some tea,” says Minji. 

Yoongi leads Jungkook over to the couch they vacated and sits him down. He perches on the edge of the coffee table across from him, and he leans his chin in his hand. “What happened, Jungkook-ah?” he asks quietly. 

Jungkook can hear Minji and Hyojin bustling around the kitchen. He looks down at his hands, clasped loosely in his lap. Part of him wants to tell him, and part of him doesn’t. He doesn’t even know how to start or what to say. He opens his mouth and closes it. Yoongi waits, and Jungkook tries again. 

“They think I’m gay,” is what comes out.

Yoongi’s gaze is soft and sad and Jungkook can’t bear to meet it. He keeps looking down. “Are you?” he asks gently. 

“I don’t know,” Jungkook mumbles. “I don’t know about that stuff.”

Yoongi nods. “You don’t have to. You’re just a kid, Jungkook-ah.”

Hyojin returns with the first aid kit. Yoongi takes it from her, and she leaves them alone. He pulls out an alcohol swab and comes to sit next to Jungkook on the couch. “It’s gonna hurt,” he warns before he carefully dabs at the cut on Jungkook’s lip. He winces at the sting. 

“How many of them were there?”

“Three,” Jungkook mumbles. “It’s ‘cause - ‘cause I made fun of them back.”

Yoongi carefully tapes the cut then pulls out a tube of bruise cream. He warms the cream between his fingers before he massages it into Jungkook’s skin, wherever the ache is the worst. 

“They caught me in the locker room and beat me up and then he - ” Bile rises in Jungkook’s throat. He swallows it down. He can’t get the image of Sangwoo out of his head. “Then he - ”

The bile rises again, and Jungkook can’t hold it down. He leaps up and tears off down the hall, where he can see the bathroom through an open door. Falling to his knees by the toilet, he leans over and vomits. His throat and chest burn, and most of it is just acid; he hadn’t eaten since morning. 

“Jungkook-ah.” Yoongi’s kneeling by him, stroking his hair back from his sweaty forehead. “Jungkook-ah, Jungkook-ah.”

Jungkook wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and looks it him. Yoongi looks afraid. His eyes are panicked and the hand that strokes Jungkook’s hair is trembling. 

“What else did they do, Jungkook?” he whispers. “What did they do to you, Jungkook?”

Jungkook’s crying again. 

“Can I touch you?” Yoongi asks, and Jungkook nods through his tears. He pulls Jungkook into his lap and holds him tight, rocking him back and forth like a child, nose pressed against his cheek. “It’s okay,” he’s saying. “You don’t have to tell me. It’s okay, I’m here, I’ve got you.”

“I don’t wanna go back,” Jungkook babbles through his tears. “I don’t wanna go back to school, I can’t go back, he’s - he’s gonna - ”

“Okay, it’s okay. We’ll figure it out. You don’t have to go anywhere. We’ll figure something out.”

“He tried - ” Jungkook can’t say it. He feels sick. “He tried.”

Yoongi’s voice is hard. “He’s not going to get the chance to try again.”

He’d been so close. It had almost happened. Jungkook can’t stop thinking about how close it had been to happening, how lucky he got that Coach had called for them right then. 

Yoongi kisses Jungkook’s head. “I’m so sorry,” he says. “I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

“I don’t wanna go back home. Please don’t - don’t send me home.”

“I’m not sending you anywhere, Jungkook-ah. You can stay right here with me as long as you want, okay?”

Jungkook nods, rubbing forcefully at his eyes again. He hates crying. Yoongi catches his hands and pulls them away, wiping his tears away with a more gentle touch instead. 

“Let’s finish cleaning you up,” Yoongi says, and Jungkook nods and stands with him. They return to the TV room, where Minji has set a cup of tea and snacks on the table. 

Yoongi finishes applying the bruise cream to his face, and Jungkook rubs it into his ribs. Then he drinks the tea. It’s bitter, some herbal concoction, but it soothes his racing heart and brings warmth to his chest. When he's done, he sets his mug down on the table. 

"I can - I can stay the night?" he checks, because Yoongi had said he could stay as long as he wanted, but he doesn't know if he meant that long. 

Yoongi nods. "Sure thing, kid. Stay as long as you want, okay?"

"Okay," Jungkook says quietly, sitting back. "I guess I should - I guess I should tell someone."

"I can call for you," Yoongi offers quickly. "Who do you want me to tell? Your mom?"

He shakes his head. "She's in China right now. Can you call Mrs. Park?"

He's too old to have a nanny now, but their housekeeper almost feels like one. She's not quite as severe as his nanny was, but he can't say she's kind, either. He gives Yoongi her number, and Yoongi takes their dishes into the kitchen while he calls. His voice filters through the walls while Jungkook waits, hands pressed between his knees. He sounds firm and unyielding as he speaks. I'm very sorry, ma'am, but he can't come to the phone right now . 

Eventually he returns, dropping his phone onto the coffee table as he sits back down next to Jungkook. "It's all good," he says easily. 

"Was she mad?"

"Doesn't matter." Yoongi shrugs. "What can I do for you, huh? You wanna go to sleep, Jungkook-ah? Tell hyung what you need."

Jungkook doesn't want to sleep. He already knows he won't be able to. "Not sleep."

"Alright. Do you want to talk? Do something to distract you? You hungry?" There are too many questions, and Yoongi seems to realize it, settling back with an apologetic twist of his lips. "Sorry. I'm jumping the gun."

He doesn't want to talk, either, doesn't want to remember. "Can we watch a movie?"

Yoongi nods. "Come on, I'll show you my room. You can pick whatever movie you want."

Jungkook had always wondered what Yoongi's room would look like. Now he barely sees it, unable to take interest; he feels himself growing distant, his lips numb. He sits on Yoongi's bed and picks a movie, and Yoongi puts it into his laptop and sits down next to him. 

The movie is distracting, but not quite distracting enough. If Jungkook lets himself drift too much, he feels like he's still being hit, a foot in his ribs and a fist in his face. Yoongi isn't a talker, but tonight he keeps talking, like he knows that if he lets the silence linger, Jungkook will float away. His voice brings Jungkook back to himself. They watch movie after movie, and still sleep eludes him; he grows more conscious of the aches in his body as the night goes on. But Yoongi's tired, and he can't stay awake forever. Eventually, his head droops against Jungkook's shoulder, and he falls asleep. 

With only the quiet rumble of the movie to keep him company, Jungkook finds it harder to stay present. But he focuses on the weight of Yoongi's head on his shoulder and tries to remind himself that he's here, not there. 

✩✩✩

Jungkook doesn't get out of bed in the morning. Yoongi offers breakfast, but he feels too listless to eat, so he doesn't. Yoongi brings his own breakfast and coffee back to the room, where he makes himself comfortable by Jungkook's side and scrolls through his phone as he eats. 

"Don't you have work?" Jungkook murmurs when he realizes how much time has passed. 

"Called in sick."

"You shouldn't have done that for me."

Yoongi waves him off. "It's fine. I never call in sick."

"I have to call in sick for school, I guess."

"I already called for you."

Jungkook blinks at him. Yoongi chugs the last of his coffee and sets his mug aside. He closes his laptop and lies back down, hugging his pillow. 

"I told them I was your uncle."

Jungkook can't help but laugh a little. "My uncle's been in the States for two years."

"Well, whoever I talked to on the phone didn't know that."

Jungkook scoffs. "You're something else, hyung."

"I know," Yoongi grins. Then he hugs his pillow tighter, burrowing into the bed. "Thanks to you, I can get some extra sleep."

He closes his eyes and pretends to snore. Jungkook smiles. "Sleep tight, hyung," he mumbles, even if he knows he's faking. 

They lie around until lunchtime, dozing intermittently. The threat of returning to school hangs over Jungkook's head, along with the anxiousness of going home to explain to Mrs. Park and potentially his mother why he spent the night at Yoongi's on a school day. Everything feels like too much, too stressful to deal with, so he can't bring himself to do anything at all. Even getting out of bed feels impossible when the stress is so all-consuming.

Yoongi forces some food into him around lunch, whipping up a pot of ramen for them to share. 

"I don't want to go back to school," Jungkook admits while they sit beside each other on the counter. 

"You don't have to go back right now," Yoongi tells him. "You can take your time."

"Doesn't matter how much time I take. They're all still going to be there when I get back."

Yoongi hums. "Can I - " he hesitates. "Can I give you some advice, Jungkook-ah?"

Jungkook nods a little warily. 

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do," he starts. "But I think you should tell your mom.”

Jungkook recoils from the idea. “I can’t.”

“That’s okay,” he says gently. “You don’t have to. But I think she could go to the school and make them fix this, couldn’t she?"

“They won’t care, they’ll just - just get mad that I tattled - ”

“Are they from families like yours? Does your mother know their parents?”

Jungkook nods tentatively.

“Does she outrank them, do you think?”

Sangwoo’s dad is a general manager. One of the other boys, Jaehyung, is only the son of a finance manager, which is why he always follows Sangwoo around. He doesn’t even know the third one’s parents. Jungkook nods again.

“Then she can threaten their parents, right? Your mother is a force of nature, Jungkook-ah, we both know how she is. If you tell her, she’ll find a way to make sure they never touch you again."

“She’s just going to get mad at me.”

"She might," he agrees. "You've done nothing wrong, though, you know that right? If she gets mad at you, it'll be baseless."

“I don’t know,” Jungkook mumbles. "I don't know if it's worth it."

But he doesn't know what else to do, either. He can't skip school forever. He can't hide in Yoongi's apartment until he graduates, however much he wishes to. 

“It's up to you, whatever you decide. Just think about it,” Yoongi says. “I just want to keep you safe, yeah?”

Jungkook nods.

“I know it’s hard, I know she’s going to be terrible about it. Trust me, I know. But she’ll keep them away from you. I know that, too.”

Jungkook looks down at his hands. He wants to believe him. But the thought of his mother and the way she’ll speak to him when she finds out - it feels unbearable.

“I’ll go with you, if you want.”

At that, Jungkook shakes his head. “That’ll probably make it worse.”

Yoongi’s lip curls into a wry smile without much humor in it all. “Yeah, she never really liked me.”

Jungkook gives a smile back that lacks humor in the same dry way. “She never really liked me much, either.”

“Well, she’s missing out.” Yoongi reaches over and ruffles Jungkook’s hair. He’s careful about it, like he’s afraid that Jungkook might break beneath his fingers. “What’s not to like?”

Jungkook’s lips twist. His mother can think of quite a few things. Yoongi gets up to put their dishes away, and Jungkook slumps back in his chair. He hasn’t seen Yoongi’s roommates yet, so he’s guessing they’re both at work. 

“Wanna go for a ride on my bike?” Yoongi offers, and Jungkook sits up, stirred by the idea. He nods just a little eagerly, and Yoongi grins. “Come on, then. Let’s go before it starts raining.”

✩✩✩

In the end, Jungkook tells his mother what happened. 

He doesn’t go into great detail; he just tells her what she needs to know. It’s more than enough. Mrs. Park must report back to her about Jungkook’s injuries, because she flies home the day after he finally summons up the courage to leave Yoongi’s place. He tells her when she calls him to her office to ask why he’d dared show up at home looking like a gangster. 

She isn’t kind about it. 

You should have never let them intimidate you. 

Don’t you know who you are? 

You’ll have to learn how to stand up for yourself if you want to survive in a world like this. 

Even as they’re being flung at him, Jungkook knows some of her words will stay with him forever. She calls for a meeting with the school’s leadership and the boys’ parents the very next day. Jungkook doesn’t have to be there, but she tells him about it later. All three boys are forced to transfer. The general manager’s demoted. The finance manager’s given leave. Jungkook doesn’t know what happens to the other set of parents, but he supposes it doesn’t matter. 

It’s a bitter victory. It’s a victory that gives his mother power over him, and it’s one that she won using her methods. It leaves a bitter taste in Jungkook’s mouth. He should be happy the torment is over, relieved that he doesn’t have to go to school every day and see Sangwoo’s face. He doesn’t have to live in fear. 

He doesn’t feel happy.

He still feels afraid. Part of him wonders if they’ll find a way to exact revenge, Sangwoo and his lackeys. The rational part of him knows it’s over, that life isn’t like the dramas. The chance that Sangwoo will show up in his doorway with shadows framing his figure is low. Jungkook’s safe, and it’s his mother who has saved him. 

There are rumors floating around the school. None of them are correct, but the result of them is that Jungkook is no longer the shy kid everyone likes to pick on. Jungkook is the heir to Jeon Enterprises. Jungkook is someone who matters; someone to be feared. He doesn't come into his reputation easily.

"I know it sucks, owing all this to your mom," Yoongi tells him one day. "But what matters is that you're safe."

He's right; Jungkook knows he is. This incident has made Jungkook acutely aware of how privileged he is. If his mother didn't wield the power and influence that she does, Jungkook would have to come to school every day and look at Sangwoo’s face. He would have to live in fear. And the chance of Sangwoo cornering him again and finishing what he started would be much, much higher. 

Jungkook is lucky. He's never quite realized exactly how lucky he is until now. 

Even though Jungkook no longer has to face the threat of being bullied every time he goes to school, the coming months are hard. He's caught in a net of fear and guilt and shame and regret. He's afraid of being alone, afraid of going to the locker room, afraid of staying late at school. It's hard to get out of bed every morning knowing he has to face a day full of feelings that are too much, too overwhelming. 

But with time, some of the intensity begins to fade. He doesn't see or hear from Sangwoo again, so the fear that he will grows lesser with each month that passes. There are only the nightmares left - every now and then, there's someone faceless leaning over him, and he always wakes up trembling before they can touch him. The rumors ease up, and his classmates generally leave him alone. School transforms from a place to endure more abuse to a place he can hide from his mother. He had never realized how grateful he could be for school when he didn't have to put up with all the bullying; now that everyone leaves him alone, school is the best place he can possibly be.

His first night at Yoongi's place emboldens him. He goes over to his place to visit sometimes, despite each occasion turning into a battle with his mom. He doesn't care; he argues through it each time, endures whatever punishment she decides to give him, and the next month he goes back to visit Yoongi again. The evenings he spends in Yoongi's room watching movies or playing cards or just sitting are maybe some of the best evenings he ever has. Even his roommates have grown on him; Jungkook's always been shy around girls, but they're so doting he ends up warming up to them regardless. 

Jungkook begins to gain some hope that high school might not be as terrible as it had started out to be.

✩✩✩

The year Jungkook turns 16, Yoongi tells him he has a boyfriend. 

“I want you to meet someone,” he asks over the phone, sounding uncharacteristically nervous. “If you have any time coming up?”

“I’m free after tutoring on Friday, I think. Who am I meeting?” Jungkook asks, brimming with curiosity. Aside from his roommates, Jungkook has never met anyone Yoongi knows. 

“His name’s Jimin,” Yoongi says, just a little shy. “We’ve been seeing each other for a little while now.”

Jungkook’s sitting on his balcony, and for a moment it feels like the air stills around him. Then he wonders if he had only imagined it.

“Oh,” he says, growing conscious of how dull his tone is, and how he shouldn’t respond like that. “That’s great,” he forces. “I’m looking forward to meeting him.”

“Yeah?” Yoongi sounds relieved. “We’ll pick you up from tutoring, then, around 9?”

“See you then.”

Jungkook hangs up and stares at his phone, held loose in his hand. He’d been imagining it about the air, of course. It’s windy tonight, and Jungkook’s hair pushes flat against his eyes until he can’t see much of his phone anymore, or of anything. Yoongi has a boyfriend. Jungkook feels unsettled, off, and he doesn’t know why. 

It shouldn’t come as a surprise. Dating is an ordinary thing that ordinary people do. Just because Jungkook has never been interested in other people doesn’t mean the rest of the world isn’t. In fact, most people are quite interested in dating. These days it seems to be all any of his classmates ever talk about. 

But Jungkook sometimes forgets that Yoongi is Yoongi outside of his time with Jungkook. When they’re together, it feels like he and Yoongi are the only people in the world. 

But Yoongi has a life outside of him, one that Jungkook knows very little about. He has friends and a job and family and now a boyfriend, too. 

Maybe it’s just that he’d waited so long to tell him. They’ve been seeing other for a while now, but Yoongi hadn’t told Jungkook he liked anyone or that he’d gone on a date or anything like that. 

But he didn’t have to tell him. Jungkook should be honored that Yoongi values him enough to make such a big deal out of him meeting his boyfriend. 

Still, Jungkook doesn’t feel quite right. 

They pick him up a little after 9, when he’s stepping out of his tutoring academy, weighed down by his backpack. An unfamiliar car waits on the street, and Yoongi leans against the passenger door smoking a cigarette that’s nearly done. He waves at the sight of Jungkook and stubs it out. 

Jungkook’s been nervous all day, but at the sight of Yoongi, he beams. “Hey, hyung.”

“Hey, kid. That backpack looks bigger than you.”

“Shut up.”

Yoongi holds his hand out, and Jungkook slips his bag off and hands it over. 

The driver’s side door opens, and a boy who must be Jimin steps out. He’s almost absurdly pretty, and Jungkook’s nervousness returns at the sight of him. He’s about Yoongi’s height but built smaller: slender waist, narrow shoulders, tiny hands. His face is thin and lovely, full lips and pretty eyes, a sharp jawline at contrast with his rounded cheeks. The smile he gives Jungkook has his heart skipping a beat. He’s dressed well, a button-up tucked into jeans and black, pointed boots. Jungkook feels silly in his school uniform, wrinkled from the day. 

“Hi,” Jimin says, bright, blinding, and even his voice is pretty. “It’s really nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you, it feels like I know you already.”

Yoongi talks about Jungkook, yet Jungkook knows nothing about Jimin. 

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” is all he manages to say. 

“Let’s go or we’ll be late,” Yoongi urges, tossing Jungkook’s bag in the trunk and getting into the car. They’re going for a movie, the newest Marvel one at Jungkook’s request. 

He slips into the backseat, buckling himself in. The nervousness won’t leave him. His bones feel like they’re trembling. 

“Here we go,” Yoongi says dryly when Jimin puts the car in reverse. “Better hold on tight, Jungkookie.”

“Shut up,” Jimin whines. It’s cute. Jungkook’s heart stutters. “I parked perfectly, I can get out perfectly too.”

“Pretty sure you dinged the car in front and the car behind when you parked.”

“Did not! Don’t be mean.”

Jimin brakes abruptly, narrowly avoiding a bump with the car parked behind him.

“See?” Yoongi looks around the seat at Jungkook. Jungkook forces a smile. His palms are sweaty, and he wipes them on his pants. 

“Can’t I get some encouragement? Be useful and help,” Jimin says. 

“Why don’t you just let me drive, huh?” Yoongi’s voice is low and teasing. Jungkook doesn’t think he’s ever heard him sound like that. 

Jimin reaches over and smacks his shoulder. Yoongi catches his hand before he can pull it away, threading their fingers together. 

“I’ll get out and help,” he says, a fond smile twitching at his lips, before he does just that. 

Jimin maneuvers his way out of the parking spot with Yoongi guiding him, and when Yoongi gets back in the car, Jimin leans over to kiss his cheek. 

“Thanks, baby.”

Yoongi hums, reaching out to rest his hand on the back of Jimin’s neck as he starts to drive. His fingers scratch lightly at Jimin’s nape. It’s subtle, isn’t anything really, but it feels too intimate to watch. Jungkook looks out the window, his belly swirling. 

“Hyung says you’re in your first year?” Jimin asks. 

“Yeah.”

“How do you like high school so far?”

Jungkook wavers between honesty and politeness. “It’s alright,” he finally says.

Jimin laughs knowingly. “I hated my first year, too. But it gets better. I only have a few months until I graduate now, and I almost can’t believe I made it.”

Jungkook’s gaze flickers to the back of Yoongi’s head in surprise. Jimin’s in his final year of high school, and that means he’s only a few years older than Jungkook. Yoongi still treats Jungkook like a child, but he’s dating someone who’s barely older than him. 

Jimin seems to be waiting for Jungkook to continue the conversation, but Jungkook can’t think of anything to say.

The car drifts into silence. Jimin puts on some music, then he and Yoongi bicker over it. It’s cute, how they bicker, Yoongi teasing and Jimin coy and pouty. Jungkook can tell by just watching them that they’re in tune with each other already, and that Jimin has Yoongi wrapped around his little finger. Jimin only has to act a little cute for Yoongi to give in. 

Jungkook doesn’t like it. He wonders if Jimin even likes Yoongi as much as Yoongi likes him. 

“Do you have any hobbies, Jungkook?” Jimin asks. 

Jungkook stares out the window at the car stopped next to them at the light. The little girl in the backseat is sleeping. A strange sort of bitterness swirls in his stomach. Jimin must know all the things about Yoongi that Jungkook has never been able to learn. 

“No,” he says, and Jimin quiets. 

“Hyung said you play baseball?” he tries again. 

“For school.”

There’s an awkward silence. Yoongi breaks it. “What are you being so shy for, Jungkook-ah? Jungkook has a million hobbies. He’s so busy, I barely get a hold of him.”

“Oh, really?” Jimin looks at Jungkook through the rearview mirror, waiting for him to elaborate. 

“I like to swim,” Jungkook finally offers.

Jimin beams. “Yeah? Me, too. We should teach hyung. We stayed at this place with a pool over the winter holidays, and he wouldn’t even dip his feet in.”

Jungkook stiffens. His stomach drops right to his feet. If they were together long enough to go on a trip for winter, then they’ve been together for far longer than Yoongi had made it sound. All that time, and he’d never even bothered to mention Jimin. He likes Jimin enough to go on vacation with him, but he hadn’t bothered to even mention his name. 

Jungkook doesn’t answer. He fixes his gaze firmly out the window and keeps his mouth shut for the rest of the ride. 

Yoongi and Jimin don’t have much in common. Jimin is planning on going to university to be a nurse. They don’t like the same music. They argue about everything, even though it’s lighthearted. Jimin’s hobby is dancing, and he’s into fashion. Jungkook doesn’t understand why they’re dating or how they met. He hasn’t thought much about it, but if he were dating someone, he thinks he’d want them to have things in common. 

But they seem awfully in tune with each other; Jungkook can’t deny that. 

They head straight for the concession stand when they get to the theater. Yoongi orders a large popcorn for them to share, then asks if Jungkook wants anything.

“Just a soda,” he says, only after Yoongi insists. 

“Candy, please,” Jimin wheedles, holding out a box of candy jellies. 

Yoongi gives him a dry look. “Really?”

“Come on, please?”

“You shouldn’t ask him for that,” Jungkook blurts, feeling thoroughly annoyed and a little like a hypocrite, because he’s done that to Yoongi. He wonders if it had looked that way when he did it. “Those are expensive.”

Jimin and Yoongi both look at him. They’re confused looks, uncomfortable ones. 

“It’s fine,” Yoongi says stiffly. He takes the box from Jimin and sets it on the counter.

“You don’t have to, hyung.” Jimin’s ears are red. “I was just messing around.”

“No.” Yoongi’s voice is firm. “I’m buying them.”

Jungkook feels chagrined. They walk into the theater in silence. Yoongi sits between him and Jimin, for which he’s grateful. He offers Jungkook popcorn once, which he refuses. He doesn’t think he can stomach it. 

The previews start, then the movie, and Jungkook hates that he can’t enjoy it anymore when he’d been wanting so badly to watch it. The time he gets to spend with Yoongi is so rare and precious; he hates that he’s too upset, too bitter to enjoy it. He’s acutely aware of the way Jimin leans in to whisper something to Yoongi every now and then, lips brushing the shell of his ear, and the way Yoongi smiles when he does. At least they don’t hold hands. Jungkook thinks he’d throw up onto his shoes if they held hands.

“Jungkook, candy?” Jimin offers at some point, holding the box across Yoongi.

“No,” Jungkook says stiffly.

“Come on, have one. They’re good.”

He shakes his head.

“Just one, you’ll like it - ”

“I said no, can you get off my ass?”

The words come out of nowhere. He didn’t know he had them in him, but they emerged in a flash of white hot fury. He freezes, holding his breath, and can’t believe he’d spoken like that. Jimin freezes, too, then his eyes narrow and his mouth stiffens. Jungkook thinks he’s in for it, now, until Jimin suddenly relaxes and sits back. 

“Got it,” he says.

Jungkook exhales. 

“Yah,” Yoongi snaps, too loud in the quiet theater. Jungkook can’t breathe again. “Jungkook, outside. Now.”

Jungkook knows him well enough to recognize the anger on his face despite the way he tries to hide it; it’s in the tightness of his jaw, the thin slant of his mouth. He gets up first, slipping out into the aisle and heading for the exit without waiting to see if Jungkook follows. He does, of course. He always does. 

In the hall outside the theater, Yoongi turns to face him, and the anger is no longer hidden. 

“What the hell is going on with you, huh?” he demands. 

Jungkook shoves his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched. He’s angry, too. He’s furious.

“If you don’t like him, fine. But you don’t get to be rude for no reason. He’s been nothing but good to you all night.”

Even though Jungkook doesn’t deserve it. Jungkook hears that, though unsaid. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he demands in turn. “He said you were together for the holidays, you’ve obviously been dating longer than a little while - ”

“I did tell you.”

“Late!” Jungkook bursts. “You never tell me anything! I’m not a kid anymore but you still treat me like one.”

“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. But you can’t take that out on Jimin. You’re better than this, Jungkook.”

He isn’t. He isn’t because right now he feels so irrationally awful, like his insides are all twisted up with anger and hurt. Every breath he takes feels laced with pain. Whenever he thinks he matters to Yoongi, he’s made to remember that he doesn’t.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Jimin’s blurred figure steps between them. Jungkook’s shoulders shake, and he dashes furiously at his eyes, but the tears keep coming.

“You’re acting like a kid right now - ” Yoongi starts, but Jimin interrupts. 

“Yoongi,” he says sharply. “Enough.”

Yoongi remains tense, glaring between Jungkook and Jimin, before his shoulders deflate. He sighs. Jungkook turns away, shielding himself from their gazes. He can’t stop crying. 

“Let’s just go,” Yoongi says quietly.

Jungkook’s tempted to take a taxi, but he doesn’t want to make things worse. He can’t bear the way Yoongi’s looking at him, the disappointment. He follows them out, finally managing to quell his tears. Wiping his face on his sleeves, he slips into the backseat. 

The drive home is silent. He stews in guilt. He can’t believe he’d acted that way, so childish. Jungkook isn’t rude to people for no reason. He just doesn’t do that. 

His home comes too fast and too slow all at once. Jimin parks outside the gate and pops the trunk. Jungkook swallows down his pride. 

“Jimin-ssi,” he says softly. “Can I talk to you outside for a minute?”

Yoongi shifts, opening his mouth like he wants to protest, but Jimin beats him to it. “Sure,” he says, unbuckling. 

Yoongi opens his mouth again, but Jimin quells him with a look. He gets out, and Jungkook does, too, grabbing his backpack from the trunk. He rounds the car to stop before Jimin, takes a deep breath, and looks Jimin square in the eye.

“I’m very sorry for how I acted tonight. I was immature and rude, and I hope you can forgive me.” He shuffles his feet and adds, “Though I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t.”

He doesn’t expect Jimin to smile. It’s soft, warm, and Jungkook’s heart stutters again. He’s almost too pretty to look at. Jungkook has never felt quite so jittery looking at anyone before, girl or boy. “I get it,” Jimin says gentle. “Hyung is very important to you.”

Jungkook nods, bowing quickly. “Thank you for taking me with you. Tell hyung thanks, too.”

Jimin rests a hand on Jungkook’s arm briefly. “Good night, Jungkook.”

He returns to the car. Yoongi unbuckles, shifting to get out of the car, but Jimin grabs his arm to stop him. He says something that Jungkook can’t see. He only sees the way Yoongi reacts: his eyes widen, and he looks back at Jungkook. His skin pales, and he stares at him for a long moment. Then he turns back, and Jimin pulls onto the road. 

Jungkook’s left watching his car grow smaller until it turns, wondering what Jimin could have possibly said to make Yoongi react like the ground had disappeared underneath him. 

✩✩✩

That night, full of shame, Jungkook lies in bed and thinks about Yoongi and Jimin. Even if they have nothing in common, he can see why Yoongi likes Jimin so much. He’s so pretty , and everything about him is pretty, not just his face. Jungkook has never dwelled on someone the way he dwells on Jimin and his lilting voice and full lips, his small hands and tiny waist. He wonders what it means that he can’t stop wondering if Yoongi’s hands fit all the way around Jimin’s waist. He thinks it’d look pretty if they did. 

Jungkook only knows a little about gay sex, what he’s gleaned from movies and jokes. He has never been very interested in sex himself; he tried watching porn a few times when he was in middle school just because everyone was always talking about it, but it had only made him nauseous. He’s never really looked at anyone and felt desire. But Yoongi and Jimin are dating, and they’d stayed on a holiday together, and Jungkook finds himself stuck on that fact like a broken record. They probably do normal people things like kiss and hold hands and have sex. They’d probably stayed in the same room on their trip and had sex all the time and Jungkook feels so sheltered, like a kid. Like he’s always stuck being just a kid while everyone else moves on without him. 

He wonders what it’s like between them. 

Feeling vaguely sick with shame, he finds himself pulling out his phone, plugging in his headphones, and ducking under his covers. He goes to the first porn site he can think of, the one everyone uses, and looks for the gay category. Then he scrolls past a slew of videos whose thumbnails do nothing but make him uncomfortable. He ends up clicking on one video where a guy deepthroats a cock that looks so big Jungkook’s convinced it has to be fake. He can’t click out of that one fast enough. 

The next one he chooses looks a little less ostentatious, the thumbnail of a guy covered in tattoos pressing another facedown into the mattress. The guy on top’s fucking him hard and fast, a hand on the back of his neck, the bed jostling beneath them. Jungkook can’t see much of the guy on the bed besides the swell of his ass and his dark fluff of hair, but he can hear him: sweet, lilting moans that rise in pitch as he’s fucked harder. He sobs, whining something Jungkook can’t make out, and the guy with the tattoos slows down. 

He pulls the other one up by the hair, leaning close to his ear, and hushes him. Then he shoves him back into the mattress and keeps on fucking him. 

Jungkook realizes with a start that he’s breathing heavy, heart racing, and he’s growing hard in his sweats. Jimin would probably sound like that, getting fucked, high and pretty and sweet. And maybe Yoongi would look like that, rough and in control. 

It’s humiliating, getting off to the thought of his best friend fucking the boyfriend he’d just thrown a jealous fit over. But Jungkook can’t help himself, and when he’s done he stews in the shame and wonders what the hell’s going on in his head.

✩✩✩

In the coming days, Jungkook does a lot of thinking. 

He thinks about Yoongi, and he thinks about Jimin, and he thinks about himself. He thinks about how much of his childhood has been defined by Yoongi, and how that isn’t good, isn’t healthy. He thinks about how he needs to find his own path now. He thinks about how Jimin had been so pretty he’d made his heart flutter, and how no one had made him feel quite like that before - especially not a boy. He thinks about how he’d never thought about sex before, but maybe that’s  because he’s only ever thought about sex with a girl. 

And he thinks about Yoongi and the warm contentment that Jungkook feels whenever they’re together, and he’s never been interested in dating but he thinks that maybe it’s because the only person he ever wants to be around is Yoongi. 

Jungkook thinks, and thinks, and thinks, and things begin to come together. 

Once, Yoongi had given Jungkook his hat and expected no thanks in return. Once, he’d brought him hotteok and a mixtape; once, he’d called him a princess locked in a tower. The lights of a bustling market glinting off the profile of Yoongi’s face; the wind in Jungkook’s hair and the warmth of Yoongi’s body against his as they rode on his motorcycle. Once, a terrible, awful day where Yoongi had held him while he cried. 

The moments blur and spin together in Jungkook’s mind, and he finally begins to understand that he’s been in love with Yoongi since he was a kid. 

✩✩✩

He’s in love with Yoongi. He doesn’t know what to do about it. 

Sleepless night after sleepless night, Jungkook comes to the same conclusion: 

There’s nothing he can do about it. 

Chapter Text

do you want to see it / the place where I am free? 

Jungkook reinvents himself.

He can no longer go on being someone who depends so heavily on Yoongi’s presence in his life; it isn’t right. To Yoongi, Jungkook isn’t the only person in the world, nor should he be. Jungkook needs that, too. He needs to live a life where Yoongi isn’t everything. He needs to move on. 

He lets go of Yoongi, and he lets go of the old Jungkook, the shy, quiet one. He works hard to break out of his shell. Now that the bullies leave him alone, it’s easier for him to approach other people, and others don’t hesitate as much in approaching him. He uses his status, which he had always pulled away from, to make friends. It isn’t as hard as he always thought it would be. When he starts carrying himself like the boys on the baseball team, people flock to him without him even having to try. It helps that he hits a growth spurt, sprouting a number of inches, his time at the gym finally turning into bulk rather than sinew. 

He argues with his mother all the time, though she ends up winning more often than not. Now that he’s older, she comes home even less, but every now and again, she takes him along on a business trip. He visits New York and Shanghai and Singapore, and once, when his mother’s in a good mood, she flies him to Tokyo for dinner. His cousin had always gone to distant places for family vacations, but his mother had never taken him anywhere as a child. Everything is new and a little thrilling.

Sometimes, when Jungkook’s in a different city, he thinks about how easy it would be to just disappear - step into the crowd and vanish, another face among many. 

He keeps on interning at her company and lets the sycophants trail after him like flies; he lets the interns hate him, too, and finds that it doesn’t bother him as much if he pretends he’s better than them, just like everyone else keeps telling him he is. His classmates throw parties at their family farmhouses and Jungkook goes to all of them, if only because it’s so easy to forget about himself when he’s surrounded by a room full of people. 

The years pass. 

Jungkook makes friends who don’t matter, lies about his age to get a tattoo, tells his mother he wishes she were dead and then wishes he was, too. The years pass, and he and Yoongi don’t talk. 

✩✩✩

He sees him once, on a hazy summer afternoon in the garden. Jungkook’s beginning his last year of high school, and his mother’s been hounding him about university again. To escape her, he’s crouched in a corner by the rosebushes, smoking a cigarette. She hates that he smokes, which is probably why he keeps doing it. That, and because it makes the anxious trembling of his hands more bearable. 

“Think fast,” someone says, and Jungkook looks up to see a flash of orange. 

His cigarette held between his lips, he raises his hands at the last second and catches the basketball. When he lowers it, he sees Yoongi, standing at the end of the path with his hands in the pockets of his sweats. 

Jungkook blinks, and his heart skips a beat or maybe ten. 

“Look at you,” Yoongi says, one eyebrow raised. It’s been nearly two years since they’ve seen each other, but Yoongi doesn’t look much different. Just a little older. Maybe more tired. “You’re a cool guy now, huh?”

Jungkook’s too thrown off guard to think of a clever response. He stares at him, taking in the familiar line of his jaw, the slant of his narrow mouth. His hair is dyed a dirty blond, now. That’s different. 

“Hyung,” he finally says. “It’s been a while.”

Yoongi nods. He comes closer, stopping a few feet away from Jungkook, who’s still crouched and looking up at him. “You never answer my messages.”

Yoongi had tried a few times to contact him. Jungkook had ignored him every time. He looks down at the ground, watching a worm wriggle through the cracks in the path. This is the first time he’s seeing Yoongi since he realized he was in love with him. He had wondered if time would lessen the intensity. 

It doesn’t seem to have done much at all. 

“Sorry. I’ve been busy.”

Yoongi doesn’t argue it. He lowers himself to the ground next to Jungkook. Jungkook offers him a cigarette after stubbing out his own, but Yoongi shakes his head. “I’m trying to quit.”

“Oh. That’s cool.”

“How have you been?”

Jungkook almost wants to laugh. He doesn’t, shrugging a shoulder instead. “You know. You?”

Yoongi mimics him, a shrug with a hint of mockery. “You know.”

“Your grandfather was complaining the other day about how you don’t visit enough.”

Yoongi rubs the back of his head. “Ah, I know. I suck.”

“How’s Jimin?” Jungkook asks a little tentatively, not sure if he even ought to ask. 

“He’s fine. We, uh, broke up a while ago.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s okay. It was friendly. He had to move, and long distance wasn’t working out for us.”

Jungkook should be happy knowing Jimin’s out of the picture, but looking at Yoongi with his shoulders slumped and his eyes a little distant, he finds that he feels only a pang of sadness. “That must have been hard.”

“Yeah. It’s okay.” He straightens, casting off the air of despondency like it’s nothing. “Grandpa says you’re barely home these days. Finally made some friends, huh?”

Jungkook snorts. “You could say that.”

Yoongi eyes him critically, and Jungkook finds himself shying away from the scrutiny. Jungkook’s false confidence holds in front of most people, but Yoongi knew him before. Yoongi knows who he is. 

“You don’t seem like yourself,” Yoongi finally says, and Jungkook’s face flames. He can’t look him in the eyes. Suddenly it feels like all the work he’s done on himself these past two years has turned into the dust. He’s still Jeon Jungkook, the little kid who had made Yoongi a scrapbook covered in flowers and never given it to him for the shame of it. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Jungkook mutters. 

Yoongi doesn’t push it. They’re quiet for a moment, then, “We should hang out sometime. I miss you.”

Jungkook’s throat clogs. His eyes burn. He stands abruptly, dusting off his jeans, and gives him a jerky nod. “Yeah. I gotta go.”

“I’ll see you around,” Yoongi says, and Jungkook knows he won’t. 

Jungkook turns away, heading down the path, and freezes when Yoongi calls after him. 

“Hey, hang on.”

He doesn’t turn back, afraid that Yoongi will see the tears welling in his eyes even from a distance. He waits. 

“I know high school makes you want to be someone you’re not, but I like who you are, Jungkook-ah.”

Jungkook’s lips tremble. He purses them tightly, scrubbing furiously at his eyes. He walks away without answering. 

✩✩✩

In the end, Jungkook’s mother decides he’ll go abroad. 

He’s accepted into Columbia University, and she likes the prestige that comes with a son who’s studying abroad. She’s tired of him, too. Jungkook doesn’t want to leave Korea. He thinks about running away again, this time with far more seriousness than his younger self; he plans and plans. He could do it. It wouldn’t be so hard. 

He doesn’t run away. 

Another country will offer freedom and anonymity that he could never find here. He won’t have to see his mother or her staff. He won’t have to hide who he is or sneak home through the balcony or stare at bare walls each sleepless night. If he leaves, Jungkook can finally have a taste of freedom. 

And if the thought of a new country and strangers all around him scares him, he thinks about his false confidence and tells himself he’ll make it. The Jungkook of two years ago wouldn’t make it, but he isn’t that Jungkook anymore. Anyway, it’s not like he’ll have anyone to miss. Only Yoongi, and he already misses him every day. 

Jungkook tells himself he can be brave. For the sake of his freedom, he can be brave.

✩✩✩

The night Jungkook graduates, his mother throws him a party. There are lots of important people there, and everyone wants to know all about Columbia and his future plans and when he’ll be officially joining the company. He smiles tightly through it all, then as soon as people begin to filter out, he escapes to his room. 

He’s sprawled in his desk chair, debating whether to change out of his suit or not, when there’s a clink against the glass of his balcony door. Jungkook frowns over at it, then returns to his internal debate. There’s another clink, followed by a third, and Jungkook stands, his frown deepening. He peers out the window and sees nothing; as he’s watching, a tiny pebble flies up and hits his door. 

“What the fuck,” Jungkook mutters, wondering if someone’s messing with him. He tugs his door open and slips out into the warm air. 

Yoongi stands on the ground below his balcony, arm poised to throw another pebble.

Jungkook’s heart stutters, stops, starts again, and he flies to the railing, leaning over to look at him. His hair is still blond, peeking out from underneath his baseball cap. He’s filling out his clothes more than usual, the sleeves of his white t-shirt hugging his chest and biceps, his black pants shaped to his legs. He’s smiling, bright and gummy, and Jungkook’s heart feels like it might stop all over again. 

“Hyung,” he says, a little weakly. “What the fuck?”

Yoongi just grins. He throws his arm out dramatically, the pebble falling to the ground. “But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?”

Jungkook’s startled into a laugh. “Hyung, you read?”

“It is the east, and Juliet is the sun - hey, fuck you.”

Jungkook laughs harder. He thinks, privately, that in this situation, Yoongi is more like the sun. Jungkook can’t look away. “What are you doing here?”

“Was trying to take a nap over there,” he gestures vaguely at his grandfather’s house, “but someone was having a party. Heard you graduated?”

“Seems like it.” Jungkook rubs the back of his head. 

“Congrats, kid.” His voice is soft, a little fond, and somehow the years between them don’t seem so long and distant anymore. They’re still just Yoongi and Jungkook, in the end. 

“Not a kid anymore,” Jungkook notes, leaning his arms on the railing. The breeze is warm, stirring his hair into his eyes. 

“No,” Yoongi agrees, gaze flickering over his face. “Guess not. You’re old enough to drink.”

“Didn’t you promise you’d teach me how to drink one day?”

“Never too late. We should go out and celebrate, shouldn’t we?”

Jungkook pretends to consider. “Romeo, oh Romeo,” he teases, startling a laugh from Yoongi. “Wherefore art thou - ”

“Just climb down already.”

Jungkook shrugs out of his blazer, grinning, and climbs his way down from the balcony. It’s far easier now than it was when he was younger; Yoongi notices. 

“Been hitting the gym, huh?”

“You know.”

Yoongi leads the way, tugging keys from his pocket. He’d come prepared, then. The last time they ran into each other, it had been heavy with the weight of distance. Tonight feels different, like Jungkook’s floating in an alternate reality that resembles his past, back when Yoongi knocking on his window was an ordinary occurrence. 

Yoongi’s motorcycle is parked on the street outside Jungkook’s gate. He tosses Jungkook the only helmet. 

“I don’t need it, hyung,” he protests, handing it back. Yoongi takes it, only to step into Jungkook’s space and slip it over his head himself. He buckles it under his chin, their toes touching, and Jungkook’s acutely aware of the heat of his body, the way their chests almost brush. 

Yoongi flicks the top of the helmet. “Safety first,” he says, turning away. 

Heart in his throat, Jungkook follows, swinging a leg onto the bike behind him. “What do you do when it rains?” Jungkook snarks, just to ease his own tension as he winds his arms around Yoongi’s waist. 

“Wear a poncho,” Yoongi says dryly, revving the engine and pulling onto the road. Jungkook tightens his grip, pressing against the hard line of Yoongi’s back. 

The bar Yoongi takes him to isn’t like the ones Jungkook usually frequents. Jungkook’s are flashy, expensive, willing to turn a blind eye to his age because they know his family. He’s used to VIP lounges and experimental drinks. Yoongi’s bar is small and cozy, couches in the corner and an old jukebox that people actually seem to be using. There’s a little stage set up in the corner, and though it’s empty now, it looks well-used, faded posters advertising musicians hanging on the bulletin board beside it. 

“Feel like I’m overdressed,” Jungkook mutters, trailing after Yoongi to the bar. Yoongi glances over his shoulder, his gaze flickering from Jungkook’s head to his toe. 

“You’re fine.”

They take their seats at the bar, and Yoongi orders the first round of drinks. He starts off by teaching Jungkook drinking etiquette, and Jungkook nods along as if he hasn't already learned. Jungkook isn't a lightweight, but he begins to realize that Yoongi is on another level entirely.

"I think you drink too much, hyung," he observes dryly as Yoongi downs yet another whiskey.

"I'm working on it, thanks."

Jungkook raises his eyebrows and watches him flag down the bartender once more.

"So what's next?" Yoongi asks him. "Grandpa said you got into some big university but he couldn't remember the name. Is it a SKY?"

Jungkook nurses his drink between his hands, the condensation making his fingers slip. He stares at a pair of clinking ice cubes. "I'm leaving, actually. Columbia. It's in New York."

Yoongi's quiet for too long. Jungkook glances over and finds him staring at his drink, too. "Oh," he finally says, looking up. "Congratulations. How do you feel about that?"

"It's complicated," Jungkook shrugs. "I want the freedom. So in the end I agreed."

Yoongi nods, his gaze as perceptive as always. "I think it'll be good for you."

Jungkook isn't quite as sure, but he would like to believe it. Tonight, in this strange reality where it feels as if no time has passed at all, as if he and Yoongi have been together all along, Jungkook would like to believe anything.

"I'm flying out in a week," he tells him. "I got into this business intensive that starts us early."

"I'm happy for you, Jungkook-ah. I hope you'll be happy there." Yoongi blinks down at his drink. He looks a little emotional. Maybe he isn't much of a heavyweight as Jungkook had thought. "Do you still draw?"

"Sometimes," Jungkook says. "Not as much as I used to."

"Don't give that up. You're really talented," he says earnestly, and Jungkook flushes.

"What's new with you, hyung?"

Yoongi considers. "Not much. Work. Eat. Sleep. That's about all I do."

There's an underlying bitterness to his words. Jungkook wonders if he's unhappy.

"Been doing some freelance writing on the side, though," he adds. "And that's nice. Something creative to keep me going."

"That's really cool," Jungkook says honestly.

He orders them a bottle of soju and pours their shots, turning away from Yoongi to take his. When he turns back, he clears his throat and tries to calm the nervous up-down of his knee. He wants to tell him. He's been wanting to tell him for a long time.

"Hyung," he starts, and Yoongi leans in his direction. He phrases his words carefully; that time is still difficult to recall. "Remember how I used to get pushed around because everyone thought I was gay? And you asked me if I was, and I said I didn't know."

Yoongi's expression is open. He nods once and waits.

"Well, I know now."

Jungkook swallows, gaze flitting away from Yoongi's, hoping he'll understand without Jungkook having to go on. He does. He breaks into a grin, clapping Jungkook on the back.

"Welcome to the club," he teases, and Jungkook's tension eases all at once. "Well, you're definitely going to have fun in New York."

Jungkook nudges him, flushing red to his ears. "Shut up."

"I guess if you, uh, have any questions or something, you can ask me whenever." Yoongi rubs his nose and studiously avoids Jungkook's gaze.

Jungkook groans. "Hyung, shut up."

"I'm just saying, you know, I'm here - "

"Yeah, and so's the internet."

"Still a brat," Yoongi says with a long-suffering air. "Here I am, trying to help, and look at what I get in return."

"You're so annoying."

"Let me teach you about the Irish bomb before I forget," Yoongi says suddenly, waving to the bartender, and Jungkook appreciates the subject change.

When they leave the bar in search of fresh air, both of them are drunk. Jungkook grows equal parts belligerent and affectionate when he's drunk, so he finds himself clinging to Yoongi whenever he can manage: arm slung around his neck, chin on his shoulder, even just their shoulders pressed together when they stand at a crosswalk. Their tongues loosen and they talk about anything, everything, and Jungkook feels like he's invincible.

"Slow down," Yoongi laughs when Jungkook trips over his feet for the third time. He grabs his arm and tugs him toward a bench, sitting him down. Jungkook promptly stretches out, flinging his legs over the handle and resting his head in Yoongi's lap. Yoongi threads his fingers through Jungkook's hair, stroking gently, and Jungkook's eyes drift shut.

"Hyung?" Jungkook murmurs.

"Yeah, Jungkook-ah?"

"That day I hung out with you and Jimin-ssi, what did he say to you?" He can see it playing on his eyelids like a movie reel: the shock on Yoongi's face, the way he had looked back at Jungkook. "When he got back in the car after talking to me. You looked so shocked."

"I don't remember."

Jungkook opens his eyes. Yoongi isn't looking at him.

"It was a long time ago."

He's lying. Jungkook knows him well enough to tell. "Okay," Jungkook says, and closes his eyes again.

"You're not gonna forget about me when you go off to New York, are you?" Yoongi asks after a time, his fingers still moving gently in Jungkook's hair.

Jungkook opens his eyes and finds Yoongi's locked on his. He stares at him, heart stuttering. "Could never forget about you, hyung."

Yoongi doesn't look pleased or relieved or even amused. He looks troubled. He taps Jungkook's shoulder, shifting, and Jungkook gets the hint and sits up. "We should get going," he says. "It's late."

Jungkook stands and follows him to the nearest subway station. The late hour means the station is nearly empty save for a few stragglers like them. They stand in silence, and Jungkook begins to feel like the strange reality has begun to lift, and the distance between him and Yoongi has grown again. They haven't been together, after all. They have years between them once more.

"That's me," Jungkook says when the next train pulls up. He turns back to Yoongi. "Thanks for tonight, hyung."

"Have a good time in New York," Yoongi tells him. "Don't worry too much. You're going to be great."

Jungkook nods. He hesitates, but the train doors open, and he doesn't know what he wants to say. So he steps onto the train and feels weighed down with lead.

"Jungkook," Yoongi says.

Jungkook turns around. Yoongi pauses on the platform, and a girl brushes past him onto the train. His lips are set in a thin line, and his gaze contains uncrossable distance. Jungkook waits.

"He said, 'Hyung, let it go. Can't you see he's in love with you?'"

Jungkook's world stills. There are other people in the train, but he sees no one but Yoongi, whose gaze is fixed studiously on something to the left of Jungkook's head. Jimin had known when Jungkook hadn't. All these years, and Yoongi had known, too. Jungkook's stomach swirls. His head feels heavy, filled with cotton. Still Yoongi doesn't look at him.

"Please stand clear of the train doors," says a scratchy automated voice.

Jungkook doesn't move. Yoongi takes a step back. The doors slide shut an inch from Jungkook's nose, and when the train lurches to a start, he stumbles. Yoongi grows small on the platform, standing along with his hands shoved into his pockets and his shoulders hunched.

Jungkook watches him until he disappears.

✩✩✩

In New York, no one knows Jungkook’s name. 

He isn’t the heir of an influential company. He isn’t the son of a woman who graces the front of business magazines. He isn’t a Jeon, and he isn’t anyone who matters. In New York, Jungkook is just like anybody else. Another face on the busy street, hardly worth a second glance. 

It’s nice. 

The first night he spends in his new penthouse feels like a surreal, almost magical reality. He leaves just to take a walk down the street in the dark, mesmerized by the lights and the busyness of it all. Then he comes back and blasts his favorite music, loud enough that his head grows heavy. He leaves again and wanders around until he finds an ATM, where he withdraws too much money and runs to a liquor store to buy as much as he can hold. Back in his apartment, he drinks himself giddy, then sleepy. Then he lies in bed and stares at his ceiling and listens to the hustle and bustle of the city outside of his window, and he laughs until his eyes well with tears. 

He can do whatever he wants here. 

He doesn’t have to lay books out on his table and pretend to study in case someone knocks on his door. He doesn’t have to come straight home after tutoring, only to sneak out an hour later. He doesn’t have to sit through excruciating dinners with his mother, where she questions him and criticizes until he loses his appetite. He can watch movies and listen to music and leave whenever he wants and go wherever he wants and - 

Jungkook cherishes the freedom and promises never to take it for granted. 

Of course, his mother’s presence still seeps into his life. Back in Seoul, her assistant had taken care of Jungkook’s matters, too. Now that he’s in New York, she’s promoted her secretary to become his personal assistant, and he moves over with him. He’s the one who finds Jungkook a place to live and a car and settles all the arrangements. He’ll be here for the duration of Jungkook’s university years, but Jungkook doesn’t have to see him every day if he doesn’t want to. His mother still dictates his class schedule from afar, but the taste of freedom is so sweet that he barely even minds. 

He has studied English for most of his life, so after the initial hesitance, he grows accustomed to communicating and barely needs to ask for help. Jungkook finds it far easier to make friends when no one knows his name. There are other Korean students at his university, of course, and he runs into a few children of his mother’s associates while he’s there. They seem as eager to avoid him as he does them, so it works out for everyone.

In New York, Jungkook learns how to live his life to the fullest. He goes on trips to other parts of the country with his new friends; he spends his evenings full of laughter, surrounded by people who like him for who he is. Sometimes, there are still sycophants: Jungkook is wealthy, handsome, drives a car that brings him attention. But he grows good at weeding them out; when he returns to Seoul and begins working in the company, he’ll be surrounded by them. For a little while, he would like something genuine. 

He discovers what it’s like to be open about his sexuality for the first time, too. New York has a vibrant nightlife, and Jungkook doesn’t have to worry that his mother’s having him tailed when he goes out. He can go to gay clubs and meet men and go on dates and there’s no one to question him. Of course, there are always shitty people. He gets in a nasty fight in his second year with some guys in a business organization he’s in after they insinuate something rude, and he’s vicious enough that they leave him alone after that. He has learned how to defend himself after all these years, and he has friends who will defend him doubly if he needs them. 

In his third year, Jungkook enters into a relationship for the first time. Hoseok is bright and overwhelming and Jungkook follows after him like a puppy, starry-eyed and jelly-legged. Hoseok was born in Korea, but he came to America as a child; he understands Korean well enough, and he seems to like it when Jungkook calls him hyung. He’s the one who asks Jungkook out first. Their first date is a picnic in the park where Jungkook decides Hoseok is the kind of person whose attention makes you feel like the center of the universe. 

They date for six months. Hoseok’s the one who ends it, but Jungkook knows it’s coming. He feels it build for days before Hoseok sits him down and tells him he can’t do it anymore. Jungkook doesn’t feel like he has the right to be upset, but he goes home and cries himself to sleep, anyway. 

The problem is that Jungkook’s still in love with Yoongi, and Hoseok is too perceptive, too empathetic, for Jungkook to keep his secrets.

The day Hoseok breaks up with him, it has been two years and ten months since Yoongi and Jungkook last spoke on the train station that night. Jungkook has drafted messages to Yoongi countless times and deleted them just as many. He doesn’t know what to say; he has too much to say. Sometimes, he hates Yoongi. He had known for all those years that Jungkook loved him, and he had let him slip away anyway. He had chosen to tell Jungkook the week before he left, and then he had turned away and never spoken to him again. 

There are nights Jungkook lies awake and seethes, turns over conversation after conversation in his head, imagines what he would say to Yoongi if he had the chance. Then there are nights when Jungkook lies awake and misses him. He thinks about his gummy smile and the way he liked to tease and the quiet, fond way he looked at Jungkook when he thought Jungkook was looking away. He thinks about what he would say:

Yes, hyung, I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you since the day you put a hat on my head and told me I’d get sunburnt. I’ve been in love with you since you taught me what love was and I think I’ll never get over you, not as long as I live. 

He wonders what Yoongi’s doing and if he still writes and if he’s made any new friends and if he’s dating someone now and if he misses him. He never mentions him to Hoseok, not once, but Hoseok figures it out anyway. 

“I don’t think you like me as much as I like you,” he tells him on the day they end. “I think your heart is somewhere else.”

Jungkook regrets. He wants to like Hoseok. He does like him, it’s just not enough, not what Hoseok needs. It’s not what Jungkook needs, either. He thinks his life would be much easier if he could let himself love Hoseok rather than go on pining over someone he may never see again. 

But he can’t, and after they break up, Jungkook goes back to clubs and one-time dates. The only way he manages to keep himself from pining is by wrapping himself up in someone else, unhealthy though it may be. 

Like this, with its ups and downs, Jungkook completes his four years at Columbia and graduates. His mother attends his graduation. He had avoided returning home even once during his time abroad, and his mother visited him infrequently. They had both liked it that way. Seeing her waiting for him when he leaves the commencement hall feels like a cruel reminder. His freedom is over. Jungkook’s life will return to normal, now, and the four years already feel like a dream. 

With a heavy heart, Jungkook packs his bags and leaves New York. 

✩✩✩

Jungkook’s still jet-lagged when his mother drops another bomb. 

His suitcases are still mostly unpacked, and he hasn’t even thought about his next step yet. But it turns out he doesn’t have to because his mother is already two steps ahead of him. She calls him into her office one evening after dinner, and he sits uncomfortably in the chair across her desk, feeling like a child again. 

“I won’t waste time.” Her voice is hard, and her mouth thins to a line as she examines him. Jungkook feels the old fear alive in his belly. “Haejoon has updated me on your time at Columbia. I know what you’ve been doing.”

There are a million things for her to find issues with when it comes to New York. Partying instead of studying. The class he failed and had to retake, although she’d already laid into him for that. An art class he’d paid for at a different school and taken at the same time as his other six classes, the main reason he’d failed that particular class. That time he showed up to a street race and won, though he never went again; he loved his car too much for that. The week he’d skipped classes to go hiking with his friends in California. Spending more evenings at a rundown boxing gym he’d found than networking. And, of course, the fact that he’s gay. 

It could be anything, and Jungkook holds his anxiety at bay. He waits. 

“You’re nearly 22,” she finally says. “It’s time for you to get engaged.”

Jungkook’s eyes drift shut. He understands. 

“Kim Electronics’ CEO has a daughter your age. You remember her. We’ve discussed it informally, and a merger between our companies could be beneficial.”

When he opens his eyes, he sees her tapping her fingers impatiently against the desk. There is thinly-veiled fury in the set of her brow. “Isn’t 22 a little young?”

“It’s only an engagement. The marriage will come later.” She stills her fingers with effort. “I was 21 when I married.”

“I don’t even know her name.”

“That’s your own fault.” Her fingers begin tapping again, and Jungkook finds himself fixated on them. The noise is incessant, irritating. “Announcing an engagement will dispel anything floating around about you in the press.”

“There’s nothing about me in the press. I was careful. You wouldn’t have known if Haejoon hadn’t sold me out.”

His mother leans forward abruptly, and his stomach jumps. “You clearly weren’t careful,” she hisses. “If you were smart, you would have realized Haejoon answers to me and only me. You wouldn’t have let him find out.”

She’s right. Jungkook was a fool, in the end. He’d thought Haejoon was his assistant, no longer his mother’s secretary. He’d thought he and Haejoon had an understanding. Jungkook let Haejoon do as he wished if Haejoon did the same in return. But Jungkook shouldn’t have trusted anyone connected to his mother. He should have known better. 

“I’m willing to let all this go,” she tells him, her voice carefully restrained once more. “I’m willing to turn a blind eye to what you’ve done. Put the company first, Jeon Jungkook. Don’t let us drown because you can’t put a leash on your inclinations.”

Jungkook feels sick. He closes his eyes again. He can hear her tapping. He can see his future play across his eyelids the way she would want it. He can see himself drown while he keeps her afloat. It should hurt, the words coming out of her mouth, should anger him, but Jungkook finds that he feels only a bone-deep weariness. 

He looks at her, and he says no. 

“You don’t have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice,” he says, feeling tired and old and wiser than her even though he’s only 22. “I won’t do it.”

“If you want to remain a part of my family, if you want a part of this company, then you will do as you’re told.”

His mother has never liked him. He supposes it doesn’t matter that she hates him now; it was a small bridge to cross. “I won’t be a part of it, then.”

“Do you know what you’re saying?” Her fingers are no longer tapping; her hand has clenched into a fist. “You won’t survive.”

“I can get a job.” It sounds terribly easy now that he’s saying it out loud. All his life, he has been afraid to break away from his mother. But it feels easy now. 

“Get a job,” she scoffs. “Do you have any idea how difficult that is? You’re giving up a position people would kill for to suffer through grueling hours of interviews. Are you prepared to struggle day in and day out only for those jobs to go to someone with connections? Do you know how many people your age are struggling to find a job that pays them nothing?”

He doesn’t know, not really. Jungkook reaps a lot of benefit from his life. He doesn’t know what it’s like to struggle in that way. “I’ll work hard,” he says. 

“You can’t survive without the comforts you were raised with. You don’t know the first thing about surviving. Other people have done everything for you for your entire life.”

“Then I’ll learn,” Jungkook promises. 

His mother stands. He can see her hands trembling with rage. “You’ll come crawling back to me in a week when you don’t have the money to buy food.”

Jungkook stands, too. He shoves his hands in his pockets. He isn’t angry, even now, even after all her accusations. He knows most of them are true, anyway. It’ll be hard. He will struggle. Maybe he can’t do it. 

But right now, Jungkook knows nothing more than that he would rather die than stay in her house for even a moment longer. 

He turns away. 

“Leave your phone,” she says, and her voice trembles now, too. Perhaps she hadn’t thought he would really do it. “You won’t leave this house with anything I paid for. You get the clothes on your back, and that’s it.”

Jungkook doesn’t look back. He nods. He leaves her office, and she doesn’t call after him again. Jungkook has never had a job. He’s never had his own money. Nothing in this house can go with him; he knows that. By the door, he slips on his shoes and leaves his home for good. 

✩✩✩

It’s only a vague memory in his head, but somehow Jungkook finds it. 

He stares up at the old building and remembers Yoongi’s arms around him, his lips in his hair. It’s okay, I’m here, I’ve got you . That night feels like a lifetime ago. Jungkook wonders if the boy he used to be would recognize the man he is now. He doubts it. 

He follows someone in and rides the elevator to the tenth floor. It’s been so long, but Jungkook remembers the way his door looked and stops outside of it. It’s a gamble, a weak one, but he doesn’t know what else to do. He raises his hand to knock. 

For a moment, he hears nothing. Then there’s shuffling and footsteps, and someone unfamiliar opens the door. She blinks at him. “Yeah?”

“Does Min Yoongi still live here?” Jungkook asks. 

“Don’t know him,” she says, uninterested, and closes the door. 

Jungkook stares at the number etched in the wood - 1023 - and exhales a shuddering breath. Of course he isn’t there. Years have passed since he lived here, and he could be anywhere in the damn world right now. Jungkook hasn’t heard from him in four whole years. Four years feel like a lifetime. 

Jungkook slides to the floor by the elevators and sits there, head lolling against the wall. He has nowhere to go, no money, no phone. Even if he had a phone, he has no one to call. There are only his friends back in New York, and what would they do? Jungkook has no one, nothing, and it had felt easy before but it feels impossible now. 

Still, he doesn’t consider going back. He won’t ever go back. 

A door down the hall opens. Jungkook doesn’t look. He stares at a water stain in the ceiling and wonders if he can find 8,000 won on the sidewalk to spend the night in a sauna. 

“Jungkook?”

He hasn’t heard that voice in so many years that for a moment, he thinks he’s dreaming. Then he lifts his head and sees Yoongi standing in the hallway holding a trash bag. He looks like he thinks he’s dreaming, too, blinking rapidly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. 

“Is that you?” he slurs, blinking a few more times, and Jungkook’s heart clenches in his chest. 

He stands, suddenly nervous, and hides his shaking hands in his pockets. Yoongi’s hair is black and ruffled, like he’d just gotten out of bed. He looks smaller, or maybe it’s just that Jungkook has gotten bigger. He’s as pretty as Jungkook remembers: small, pink mouth, narrow eyes and slender jaw. Jungkook’s heart pitter-patters in his chest. 

“Hey, hyung,” he says, trying to hide the tremor in his voice. “It’s been a while.”

Yoongi stares at him. Then he scoffs, almost disbelieving. “Yeah, you could say that.” He shakes his head. “Hang on.”

He walks down the hall and deposits the bag in the trash room. Then he heads back down the hall and beckons for Jungkook to follow. Jungkook only hesitates for a second. 

“Did you knock on the wrong door?” Yoongi asks, unlocking 1029 and letting them in. “I moved to a single a few years back.”

Jungkook steps inside and peers curiously around Yoongi’s new apartment. It’s a far cry from the old one he’d shared with his two roommates, where everything had been messy and a little worn-down. This one is neat, organized, and decorated. A stylish trio of shelves built into the wall look like Yoongi must have installed them himself; they’re lined with figurines and books. There are framed records on the walls and little plants in the window. There are even throw pillows on the couch. Only the kitchen looks disorganized, like he’d been busy in it earlier.

“Nice place,” Jungkook comments, and Yoongi nods his thanks. 

“Want some coffee or something?”

Jungkook shakes his head. Yoongi shrugs and starts on a cup for himself, gesturing for Jungkook to sit wherever he pleases. Jungkook takes a stool at the counter so he can watch Yoongi work. 

“So what brings you here?” Yoongi asks, never one to beat around the bush. 

Jungkook swallows, looking down at his hands. It’s better to cut straight to it. “I don’t want to come off like a dick, showing up after four years and asking you for a favor. But, uh, I need somewhere to crash just - just for a few days. I’ll be gone before you know it, just need a little while.” His fingers are still shaking, so he twists them together to conceal it. “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

Yoongi comes to lean against the counter across him. His gaze is painfully discerning as it flickers over Jungkook’s face. Jungkook finds it too much to bear; he looks away. “What happened?” Yoongi asks at last. 

Jungkook runs a restless hand through his hair, avoiding his gaze. “I got kicked out. Or I, uh, left. She didn’t let me take anything with me. Phone, money, whatever. I’m just gonna find somewhere to work, anywhere, and I can go to a sauna soon as I have some money. Just - it’s hot and I didn’t want to sleep outside.”

Yoongi’s quiet for so long that Jungkook dares to look at him. He finds the reserved expression melted into something sad, tender. “Oh, Jungkook-ah,” he says, and the way he says his name, so familiar, so warm, has Jungkook aching down to his very bones. His eyes well up, the lump in his throat painful. 

He presses his hands to his eyes, swallowing past the lump, willing the tears to go down. But suddenly everything feels too hard, like too much, and his mother’s words begin to seep into his brain at last. What you’ve done . 

He feels a hand warm on his shoulder, another threading through the hair at his nape. He shudders, and Yoongi’s hand strokes up through his hair, soft and careful. “Did she find out?” His voice is almost a whisper. 

Jungkook nods once, head still held up by his hands. 

“I’m going to make you some coffee,” Yoongi says firmly. He moves away, and Jungkook misses the warmth of his touch. 

He keeps his face covered until he’s swallowed down the last of his tears. Then he straightens, composing himself, and watches Yoongi pour him a cup of coffee. He slides it across the counter, and Jungkook wraps his hands around it for comfort.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I shouldn’t have come here. We don’t - we haven’t even talked, and I’m asking you for so much.”

“Jungkook-ah.” His voice is firm, and Jungkook looks at him. “You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like.”

“It won’t be long. I just - just gotta find a job.”

“Do you know the first thing about finding a job?”

His words are harsh, but his tone is mild. Jungkook sighs. “That’s what she said, too.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t do it. It just means you’ll have to work hard.”

“I can work hard.”

“I know,” Yoongi says. “The life you’ve lived is different from the life the rest of us live. You have a lot to learn.”

“I know,” Jungkook whispers. He stares at the muggy black of his coffee. Even in university, things had been easy for him. He had a penthouse to himself, laundry and maid service, meal delivery. If he didn’t feel like driving, he had Haejoon. Jungkook really doesn’t know the first thing about surviving on his own. “I can learn.”

“You can learn,” Yoongi affirms. “And you can stay with me as long as it takes.”

Jungkook’s eyes well up again. He nods and hides his face in the coffee. 

✩✩✩

“So that’s way too much detergent,” comes Yoongi’s dry voice from over Jungkook’s shoulder. 

“It says to the line,” Jungkook huffs, squinting at the cup. The powder ends right at the line, just like the instructions said.

“Pop quiz,” Yoongi intones. Jungkook glances over his shoulder and finds him engrossed in something on his phone. A closer look tells him he’s playing some farming game. “How much does detergent cost?”

“I don’t know, fifty thousand won?”

Yoongi snorts. “You think it costs 50k and you’re wasting it like that?”

Jungkook huffs again but dutifully empties some detergent back into the bag. “Is that better?”

“Yup. The one I buy is ten thousand, by the way.”

“Oh.” Jungkook empties the cup into the washer and peers down at the load of Yoongi’s clothing. “Can I run it now?”

Yoongi fishes in his pocket and comes up with a handful of coins. “Yeah, here. Should be enough.”

“You have to pay to do your laundry?”

“What, did you think it was free? Hit that button right there.”

“Damn,” Jungkook mutters, stepping back as the machine begins to run. “Everything costs money, huh?”

“Did you have a washer in your place in New York or what?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “I kind of just put my clothes in a bag outside my door and someone would come get it.”

Yoongi shoots him a look that’s mildly disgusted. “Right. Well. I’m gonna get us some coffee.”

He walks off to the café portion of the laundromat, and Jungkook watches the machine run. If there’s one thing he’s really been missing, it’s his phone. He feels so empty without it. Jungkook’s scuffing his shoes idly on the floor when Yoongi returns with their coffees and leans against the wall next to him.

“Thanks, hyung.” 

Yoongi nods, taking a sip of his own. “Where do you think you’re going to start your job hunt? Your major was business, right?”

Jungkook nods. “Yeah. I did a lot of shit when I was in school, so I have a good resume. But the problem is that everyone knows my mom.”

“You think she’d try to get in your way?”

Jungkook kicks his shoe against the ground. “I know she will.”

“Apply to some companies she’s not acquainted with, then.”

“She knows everyone, hyung. I could apply to the places who’d hire me just to spite her, but I don’t want anyone using me for their own benefit.”

“Not an option,” Yoongi agrees. “What about some smaller companies? Like start-ups? Some place she wouldn’t care about.”

He hums in consideration. “That could work.”

“Borrow my laptop tonight and spruce up your resume.”

Jungkook stares at the washer spin, lost in thought. “I don’t have any clothes. I’ll need a suit.”

“I’d lend you mine, but.” Yoongi raises an eyebrow and drags his gaze from Jungkook’s head to his toes. Jungkook grins, feeling warm under the attention. “I can spot you some money for a rental?”

Jungkook shakes his head. He wants to do this himself. “I think I’ll have to find a job to start out with. A café or shop or something. Then work my way up.”

He can work hard and rebuild his bases: buy clothes for an interview, buy himself a cheap phone, pitch in for groceries and eventually rent. Then he can start focusing on finding a full-time job, one that’ll help him get on his feet. 

“That’s a good idea.”

They’re silent for a time, drinking their coffee and watching the timer on the machine slowly decrease. It would be a lie to say things are comfortable between them, like they once were, but it isn’t so bad, either. Jungkook finds that when in Yoongi’s presence again, the bitterness of the past four years has dulled. He’d missed him so much.

“Hey.” Yoongi breaks the quiet. “I’m sorry.”

Jungkook blinks. Yoongi’s looking at his feet. 

“I’m sorry I said what I said the last time we were together, then turned around and didn’t talk to you for four years. It was shitty.”

Jungkook’s chest tightens. “Yeah,” he agrees. “It was. But thanks for saying that.”

Yoongi nods.

“Why did you do it?”

“I don’t want to make excuses.”

“I know. But I just want an explanation.”

Yoongi hesitates. His eyes are glazed over, like he’s still there, standing by the subway tracks four years ago. “I was scared.”

His admission is blunt. Jungkook swallows harshly. “Scared that I was in love with you?”

Yoongi finally looks up and meets his gaze. “Yeah.”

It could mean any number of things. Jungkook finds, abruptly, that he doesn’t really want to know what Yoongi means. He breaks their eye contact and rubs his nose, posture growing defensive on instinct. 

“Yeah, well. I was just a kid. You were my only friend.” He shrugs a shoulder, as if that’s enough to explain it. As if there isn’t a lifetime’s worth of reasons for why he loves Yoongi.

“Yeah,” Yoongi says after a moment. He’s looking away now, too. “You’re right.”

✩✩✩

Jungkook finds a job at a tiny bakery whose owner seems too desperate for help to really care who she hires. She and her sister-in-law do all the baking; Jungkook has to man the register and clean up after customers. He can tell she begins to regret hiring him once his training starts. She had probably expected training to consist of teaching him how to use the register and which doors to lock, not how to sweep and mop and get rid of grease stains. But Jungkook works hard to learn, and he’s endearing, so she puts up with him. 

After his first long week of work, Jungkook comes home to Yoongi cooking dinner. Though all he wants to do is collapse on the couch that’s been serving as his bed and massage his aching legs, he has found over the past few weeks that he really loves watching Yoongi cook. So he settles at the counter to watch.

“How was it?” Yoongi asks. He pulls a can of beer from the fridge and slides it over to Jungkook, then returns to the stove.

Jungkook groans in response.

"That bad, huh?" Yoongi's voice is low and comforting as he glances over his shoulder in the midst of filling a pot of water to boil. It encourages Jungkook to go on. That's one of the many things he's always loved the most about Yoongi - how he's such a good listener. Even when Jungkook doesn't realize he wants to keep going, Yoongi does. 

"Not - not bad, necessarily?" Jungkook pops open the can and takes a moody swig. Maybe bad is the right word. "Just, there's all this stupid shit I don't know how to do and then I feel like an idiot because it's obvious that I should know these things."

"Yeah?" Yoongi's pulling vegetables out of the fridge and freezer, laying them out on the counter. "Like what?"

"Like, I didn't realize when you're fucking sweeping, you have to sweep everything?"

Yoongi snorts. 

"No, I mean like - obviously you sweep up the shit you see, right? So there was a pile of crumbs on the ground, I swept those up. But I didn't realize you just sweep the whole room even if you can't see anything. And in the corners, like under where the counter meets the wall?"

Yoongi's grinning as he upends a bag of pre-chopped carrots into the water. Jungkook takes another swig of beer, his moodiness increasing. 

"I know. It's stupid. I guess that's common sense."

"I guess not. I mean, you've never swept a floor in your life, yeah? I think I used to skip the corners, too, until my mom yelled at me for it. Some things you have to be taught."

"Then I left a tub of cream out. I guess cream goes bad when you leave it out. But I didn't know that, either."

"Was the bakery auntie mad about it?"

"I think she was trying not to be. I'm amazed she hasn't fired me yet. But she said I'm too cute to fire."

Yoongi bursts into laughter, the boisterous kind, and Jungkook finds himself smiling despite his moodiness. "Unbelievable. First you get rich people privilege, now you get good looks privilege?"

"Whatever, you probably get a ton of that, too."

"You calling me handsome, Jungkook-ah?" Yoongi teases. 

"Don't let it get to your head."

"Is that why you're staring so hard?"

Jungkook flushes automatically. "No," he huffs. "I just like watching you cook. It's cool."

"Well, come on then. I'll teach you."

Jungkook blinks, surprised. 

"Come on," Yoongi insists. "Maybe something I teach you will come in handy next time you think of leaving something out of the fridge."

Jungkook joins him at the stove, and Yoongi shows him the bags of vegetables. 

"It saves time, so I usually buy vegetables in bulk then chop them up and freeze them so I can pull them out whenever I need to cook," he explains. "You can't freeze everything, though, so google it before you try. Don't go trying to freeze lettuce."

He says it wryly, like it's obvious, and Jungkook's embarrassed that he can't think of why that wouldn't be a good idea. 

Yoongi shoots him a look and sighs. "Too much water. It gets soggy."

"Oh," Jungkook mutters.

"Anyway, I'm making stir fry today. Some of the frozen veggies I can just pop right into the pan, but some of them will take too long to cook, so I'm gonna steam them first." He taps the pot of water. "Here, shred the cabbage for me."

Yoongi hands Jungkook a knife and the cabbage, which has been washed already. He shows him how to take the outside leaves off and the best way to cut it, and Jungkook's slow, but eventually he has it ready. It feels silly, but Jungkook's proud, and he shows Yoongi his handiwork with a smile. By then, Yoongi's done nearly everything else. He lets him toss it into the pan and stir everything around, adding the sauce in as they go. 

He explains what he's doing as he works, and Jungkook knows he's going to forget half of it. It doesn't help that he keeps getting distracted by Yoongi. There's just something so appealing about him like this, working steadily, patient even when he has to explain something to Jungkook twice. In the end, Jungkook doesn't do all that much, and he probably doesn't learn all that much either. But it's nice. It's really nice. 

Jungkook thinks he could spend the rest of his life like this, helping Yoongi cook in his small, warm kitchen, and be perfectly content. 

✩✩✩

Jungkook wakes up from a nightmare. 

He can't remember it when he wakes, just remembers someone faceless, leaning over him. He remembers being powerless, at the mercy of the faceless figure, and that's the most frightening part. He wakes himself up rolling off the couch, tangled in his blanket, sticky with sweat. When he hits the floor, he grunts and shoots up, rubbing his eyes. The moonlight filtering through the curtains tells him it's still late, and he should go back to sleep. 

But the fear still lingers, and the couch is uncomfortable, and Jungkook doesn't want to be alone. 

He gets up, taking his pillow with him, and stops outside Yoongi's door. It's a little cracked. He hears movement and wonders if Yoongi's awake. 

"Hyung?" he calls softly. 

"Yeah?" Yoongi calls back.

Jungkook pushes the door open tentatively. Yoongi's sitting in bed with his laptop open, the bright light illuminating his tired face. 

"You're not asleep?"

"Can I sleep here?" Jungkook blurts before he can second-guess himself. 

Yoongi blinks. He looks a little flustered. Then he nods, scooting over to leave a space for him. Jungkook falls onto the bed next to him, tucking his pillow under his arms and head. 

"Don't you get cold like that?" Yoongi mutters, eyeing Jungkook's shirtless torso.

"I run hot," Jungkook responds, peering up at him. "Why are you awake?"

"I'm a night owl."

"You should sleep," Jungkook mumbles. He's already feeling sleepy again, eyes drifting shut. The fear from before has begun to ebb away. Yoongi's bed smells like him. 

"I will," Yoongi murmurs. "Goodnight, Jungkook-ah."

Jungkook drifts off before long. When he wakes up the next morning, it's with Yoongi's arm around his waist and his nose pressed against the back of his shoulder. He has things to do, but he lets himself lie there, basking in the warmth of Yoongi's body next to him. 

It's nice not to be alone. 

He pulls himself out of bed eventually, motivated by the desire to make Yoongi breakfast. Yoongi's always doing so much for him, and it's the least he can do now that he's figured out how to fry an egg. He does just that, tossing it onto a sandwich with some cabbage, and puts on coffee. By the time Yoongi shuffles into the kitchen, hair mussed and eyes droopy, Jungkook's got breakfast ready. 

"Hey," he mumbles, sitting down at the counter. "Thanks." 

Jungkook knows Yoongi's pretty much useless until he's had his first cup of coffee, so he lets him sit in silence until some life begins to seep back into him. 

"You can, uh, sleep in there more often," Yoongi mutters, staring down at his coffee. "If you want. The couch is probably uncomfortable."

"It's fine, hyung, last night was just weird. I don't mind the couch."

"Nah, I'm sure it's not the best. You're way too big for that couch." Yoongi eyes him, and Jungkook grows acutely aware of the fact that he's still shirtless. 

"Thanks," he finally says. "If I, uh, get too uncomfortable I'll take you up on that."

Yoongi nods, going back to his breakfast. "Anyway, I'm going to volunteer today at this place that does community gardens with students. You wanna come?"

Jungkook raises his brows, interested, and nods. "That sounds good, hyung."

They leave a little after breakfast. There's a community center in the city where they've carved out a bit of land for students. Most of the kids who are there that day come from troubled homes or the orphanage down the street, all middle and high schoolers. The volunteers seem to be regulars, so Jungkook feels out of place not knowing any of the kids who show up. He hangs around Yoongi, who seems to know everyone very well, and admires how natural he is with the kids. They all seem to love him. 

Jungkook focuses on gardening, speaking to the kids every now and then. A few of them begin to approach him themselves, so he tries not to be awkward about it and works alongside them. It's nice to see Yoongi gardening again. So many of their best memories were just like this, kneeling side-by-side in the dirt, the sun beating down on their backs. 

For a little while, he can almost fool himself into thinking they're still the same boys who'd hid in the rose bushes together, stealing the moments they could in each other's company. 

✩✩✩

"Have you ever thought about taking on art commissions?" Yoongi asks him one evening, when they're both home from work at the same time, sharing a pot of ramen in the living room. 

Jungkook shrugs. "Not really. I sold a painting once when I was in university, but that was kind of by accident."

"It's just a thought. You don't have to monetize it if you just want a hobby. But I dunno, you're really good. You could get your name out there."

"I never really thought about it," he admits. "It always kind of felt like I'd never be able to do art."

"Yeah. I felt like that with writing, too. But I sell my writing sometimes."

Jungkook sits up, eyes wide. He remembers Yoongi mentioning briefly that he freelanced, way back before they stopped speaking. "You still do? No way."

Yoongi looks embarrassed. "Just sometimes. Mostly I write for myself. I started freelancing because I have a friend who works for a magazine, and she paid me to write this album review for them. It kind of blew up, and people started asking me to write things for them, too. So sometimes I take up freelancing projects. It's just a thing to do on the side."

"That's cool as shit, hyung. I'm happy for you."

Yoongi rubs the back of his neck, shy. "Not really. Tons of people do it. It's not that big of a deal."

"It is," Jungkook insists. "Can I read something of yours one day?"

Yoongi flushes, the tips of his ears turning red. It's endearing. "Yeah, maybe. Anyway, the point is, taking up commissions could be an option if that's something you want to pursue."

"That's a good idea," Jungkook muses. "I'll look into it. I'll probably need to build a portfolio first, maybe a website. Or Instagram?"

"Sounds like a good start," Yoongi agrees. "Now go make us some more ramen, I'm still hungry."

Jungkook gets up to oblige, too busy working his brain to even answer. 

✩✩✩

Walking out of his mother's house for the last time, Jungkook never would have imagined he would grow to thrive so fully. He had left on pure adrenaline, on the final culmination of years and years of unhappiness. There hadn't been much hope involved, if he's being honest with himself. He hadn't really thought he'd make it. 

But he's thriving, and he's healing, and so much of that has to do with Yoongi and the new world he's building for himself. 

Work gets easier with time. He learns his way around the bakery, and as customers become regulars, he begins to know most of them by name. Everyone is fond of him, and his boss sends him home with treats so often he starts to worry about his sugar intake. He builds his savings carefully and offers Yoongi help with groceries and bills whenever he can. He's eternally conscious of the debt he owes Yoongi for letting him stay with him. The best thing he can do is save enough to move out, although the thought of leaving this easy comfort they've built with each other fills him with dread. He tries not to think about that. In the meantime, he builds himself back up - buys the cheapest phone he can find, learns how to navigate ordinary stores to replenish his wardrobe. He ends up buying a lot of plain t-shirts and sweats because those are the easiest to afford. 

In his free time, he cooks with Yoongi and works on his art portfolio and works out in the living room, lifting the end of Yoongi's couch up in lieu of dumbbells. Yoongi thinks he's ridiculous, but Jungkook doesn't miss the way his gaze lingers on his bare chest whenever he catches him. That's another thing - there may be a comforting familiarity between them, but there's also a growing tension, and Jungkook knows he isn't imagining it. He supposes it's inevitable, given that they're living in such a small space together - sometimes they wake up wrapped up together in bed, Yoongi has to walk in on Jungkook working out shirtless, and Jungkook catches Yoongi coming out of the shower in a towel more than once. It's probably natural, so he tries not to get his hopes up. 

They talk more, though, and that's nice. It isn't like before, when Jungkook always felt like Yoongi was holding back on account of their age difference. He doesn't hide things the way he did. He tells Jungkook all about how terrible high school was, the kids who bullied him for being poor and gay and the grandson of a gardener. He tells him about the time he got so drunk he fell asleep on the sidewalk, and a police officer had to take him home. He talks about how awful it was leaving home, when his parents had kicked him out and told him they never wanted to see him again. He says he talks to them sometimes, now, which Jungkook can't fathom; he wonders if he and his mother will ever be able to talk like that. Yoongi even talks about how depressed he'd been when he first moved out of his grandfather's house, and how for a few months, he'd barely dragged himself out of bed. 

After the first time, he becomes a regular at volunteering with Yoongi, working in the community gardens. It's nice, and he learns everyone's names, and it doesn't take much longer for the kids to open up around him. They love him, and Yoongi swears he's jealous, says it took him ages to get them to warm up to him and here Jungkook is, sweeping in and stealing all their hearts. Jungkook's never been anyone's hyung, and he finds that he likes being one. He likes being able to give advice and comfort and all the things he'd always needed growing up but never had anyone but Yoongi to give to him. 

Of course, things aren't always good. He's accustomed to living a certain way, and however much he doesn't want to be that person, there are comforts he misses. He misses his car most of all, but he also misses the leather jacket he'd bought at an Armani in New York for two thousand dollars. He misses his racks of branded sneakers and he hates the way the jeans he buys at a basement shop fit over his ass and he misses the shiny clink of the watch on his wrist. Sometimes he feels like a spoiled brat. Sometimes the thought of doing another load of laundry or walking down the street to buy groceries feels so unbearable that he wants to collapse to the ground and cry about it, beating his fists like a toddler. Life was easy before; now it isn't. 

But however difficult it gets, he only has to remind himself of the freedom to strengthen his resolve. He can do whatever he wants. He can be whoever he wants. None of that will ever be worth giving up, not even for an easy life. There's a reason he walked away from his mother that day, and he keeps on reminding himself of the reason.

So Jungkook's healing, but he's been disowned by his only family, and the wounds do fester. 

It wouldn't be hard for his mother to track him down. When he signs up for a new phone number, he almost thinks she'll find him. For a few days, he watches his phone like it's a living thing, waiting to strike. But she never calls, and eventually he begins to relax. Then it starts to hurt. Whatever their issues were, she had still raised him. She was still his mother, the only real family he'd had after his father died before he was old enough to even remember him. It's difficult to come to terms with the fact that she doesn't care about him at all, even if part of him had always known. 

"She hasn't even bothered to call," Jungkook tells Yoongi one day, when the wounds feel particularly painful. Yoongi's busy transplanting his house plants into larger pots, but he pauses when Jungkook speaks. "I could be dead for all she cares. Dead or starving or anything. And she hasn't even called."

Yoongi hums. "Come help me," he says, and Jungkook gets up. 

He holds the pot steady while Yoongi digs around the roots with extreme care until he can lift up the plant and place it in the new pot. Jungkook adds more soil around the base, packing it in, before they turn to the next plant. Something about the steady work eases the tension in his shoulders. The smallest plant requires particular focus, its roots tiny and easy to break. He's so focused he almost forgets they were having a conversation at all until Yoongi speaks again. 

"She might call one day," Yoongi says. "She might never call. Either way, you have to move on."

Jungkook looks up at him, frowning, and wonders why he feels like crying. 

✩✩✩

On a day off from work, Jungkook finds himself lazing around with boredom. 

He works out first thing in the morning, cooks himself a breakfast of eggs and toast, waters Yoongi’s plants, and spends an hour working on one of his paintings. Then he can’t quite find a way to pass his time. He starts taking advantage of Yoongi’s streaming subscription but everything he tries watching is boring. Eventually he sprawls across the couch and just stares at the ceiling, counting the minutes until Yoongi gets home. 

But it’s barely the middle of the day, and there are hours to go. A realization strikes him: why wait until Yoongi comes home if he can just go visit him? Yoongi has mentioned friends stopping by at work before, and he doesn’t seem to mind. Jungkook doesn’t see why he can’t do the same. 

Still, he feels a little weird showing up without an excuse, so he does burpees in the middle of the living room to jog his brain. Yoongi always complains about running late in the morning - he never sleeps on time, always has a hard time waking up - and not having time to pack lunch. Jungkook can probably take him lunch. That’s a good enough excuse. 

Yoongi might be teaching Jungkook how to cook, but Jungkook’s knowledge is so far limited. Still, he’s a fast learner, and he’s good at trying new things. He finds some leftover rice and veggies in the fridge and fries an omelette, folding the rice into it carefully. He packs it in a little lunchbox he finds in one of Yoongi’s cabinets, topping it off with a smiley face made out of ketchup. Satisfied, he throws on a clean t-shirt and a pair of sweats and heads out. 

The garage where Yoongi works is small, tucked into a strip of other shops, most of which service various types of cars. The garage right next to Yoongi’s shop is open, and Jungkook can see someone ducked over the trunk of it, mostly concealed. They look too tall to be Yoongi, though, so Jungkook heads to the shop door instead. 

Yoongi’s scowling at a computer behind the counter. He’s wearing his overalls, tank top underneath, cap pulled low over his forehead, and Jungkook swallows harshly. He stops at the counter. 

“Hey.”

Yoongi looks up, startled, and the scowl relaxes. “Hey, Jungkook-ah. What are you doing here?”

Jungkook shrugs. “I figured you didn’t pack lunch, so I stopped by.”

He places the lunchbox on the counter and pushes it over. 

Yoongi stares at it. Then he stares at Jungkook. His expression is unreadable; Jungkook can only catch a hint of surprise in the tilt of his eyebrows. The rest of it is hard to decode, as always, and Jungkook feels his stomach sinking. 

He realizes it’s a strange thing to do, bring another guy lunch at work. Jungkook hadn’t even thought of it as strange. He’s gone and done it again, what he always does, act strange and overstep without realizing it until it’s too late. Suddenly he’s 11 again with a book full of letters and a cover of hearts and flowers, realizing that he can’t give it to Yoongi, after all. 

Then Yoongi’s expression softens. The corners of his mouth tilt up, almost shyly, and his eyes crinkle. His ears are turning red. 

“You brought me lunch?” he says, sounding gruff, like he does when he gets shy or embarrassed. “You didn’t have to do all that.”

Jungkook shrugs, rubbing the back of his head, feeling embarrassed himself. 

The back door opens, and the man Jungkook must have seen in the garage walks in. He’s wiping his hands on a rag, looking at Jungkook with a friendly smile that dimples. He’s tall and tone, skin smooth and golden, dyed undercut just visible under his cap. If Jungkook’s being honest, he’s sexy as all hell, and his throat goes a little dry at the sight of him. 

“Hey,” he says. “Here for a car?”

Jungkook shakes his head. He leans his elbow on the counter in a way he knows shows off the line of his body. “Visiting hyung.”

The guy glances between him and Yoongi, who still looks a little red, and then at the lunchbox sitting between them. “You brought him lunch? That’s cute as shit. Look at him, his ears are red.”

“Fuck off, Joon,” Yoongi mutters, shooting him a glare. 

“His cheeks are red, too,” Jungkook joins in on the teasing. By the time Yoongi turns his glare on Jungkook, it’s half-hearted. He’s already lost. “I’m Jungkook,” he offers, waving two fingers in greeting. 

“Namjoon,” he introduces in turn. “Hyung talks about you all the time. Nice to finally put a face to the name."

"Does he?" Jungkook raises an eyebrow, turning his gaze on Yoongi, who's studiously looking away. "Good things, I hope."

"Good things," Namjoon agrees, but then his gaze flickers slowly up and down Jungkook's body. Jungkook resists the urge to preen and show off a little harder. "But you aren't quite what I was expecting."

"And what were you expecting?"

"Well - " Namjoon starts, clearly flirting just as hard as Jungkook is, but Yoongi clears his throat noisily and interrupts them. 

"Alright, that's enough," he huffs. "I'm taking my lunch break. Come on, Jungkook."

Yoongi drags him out of the shop's back door to a bench in the back, scoffing when Jungkook tosses Namjoon a coy smile and wave over his shoulder. 

"You should come around more often!" Namjoon calls after him, and Jungkook laughs. 

"Unbelievable," Yoongi announces, sitting and yanking Jungkook down with him. "Didn't know you were such a menace."

"Me?" Jungkook says innocently. 

Yoongi scoffs, opening the lunchbox. His frown melts at the sight of the ketchup smiley face, eyes softening. "Cute," he says. 

He starts to eat, and he doesn't forget to compliment Jungkook when he's done. Jungkook feels more than a little proud of himself, heading home with a new energy to his step after Yoongi's lunch break ends. Later that evening, Yoongi comes home and informs Jungkook with genuine disgust that Namjoon asked for his number. Jungkook just laughs. 

"I hope you gave it to him," he says, and Yoongi sulks around for the rest of the night in a way that has Jungkook wondering - hoping, maybe - that he's a little jealous. 

✩✩✩

Jungkook finally saves up enough money to rent a suit just in time for his first interview with a software start-up called BlueField, and it's a bittersweet moment. 

Bitter because it'll never match up to the row of tailored, branded suits he'd had made over his university years, and because it's only rented, and he'll have to return it. But mostly sweet because he paid for it with his hard-earned money, and it's his for now, and he looks damn good in it even if it didn't cost as much as all his other ones. It helps that Yoongi grows quite flustered when he sees him try it on for the first time, ducking out of the room with some bullshit excuse. Jungkook trails after him to squeeze out the compliment he knows he deserves. 

He's nervous on the day of the interview, clutching the neat folder Yoongi had given him to hold his resume tightly between sweaty fingers. His knee jostles up and down with nerves during the bus ride over until the girl sitting next to him shoots him a dirty look and he forces himself to keep still. The office is easy to find, on the third floor of a larger building, and when he tells the woman at the front desk what he's there for, she leads him to a second waiting room. There are four other people holding their resumes already waiting there. 

Jungkook wipes his sweaty palms on his pants after he takes a seat by the door. He's early, so he settles in to wait. The door opens before long, and Jungkook sits up straight, only to realize he knows the man that walks in. Kim Mingyu is the son of Kim Electronics' CEO, the brother of the woman his mother had wanted him to marry. He stiffens, wondering if Mingyu will recognize him. He does, of course, and his smile turns sharp. 

"Jeon Jungkook?" he says, eyebrows raised. 

Jungkook stands, bowing. "Mingyu-ssi, good to see you."

"Same here, it's been a while. I heard you're no longer working for your mother's company?"

Of course the news has already traveled. "I'm not, no. I wanted to branch out."

Mingyu's smile is knowing. "Ah, got it. You're interviewing for the entry position?" 

Jungkook knows what it's like with people like Mingyu. He knows the insults are always subtle, and that's one right there. He gives him a tight smile in return. "I am. You work here?"

Mingyu gives a self-effacing little laugh. "Oh, no, we're backing BlueField. They have a lot of potential, great ideas."

Here Jungkook is, interviewing for an entry-level position as a marketing assistant - a salaryman. And here's Mingyu, backing the entire company. It's a bitter irony. "Glad to hear it," he manages to say. 

"Well, I've got to pop in there to have a word with the CEO before you all start. Best of luck, Jungkook-ssi."

"Thanks. See you around."

"I'm sure I will," Mingyu tosses over his shoulder, and Jungkook sits back down and tries not to punch a hole in the wall. 

Despite the unlucky run-in, the interview actually goes quite well. They all interview together, and Jungkook had worried he'd be too shy to say much, but he thinks he does okay. He answers confidently - he's almost charming, he thinks. The time passes far quicker than he would have expected, and he walks out with the interviewees. Three of them break away when they leave the building, and Jungkook heads to the bus stop with the fourth, a woman named Siyeon. 

"Well, that was a waste of time," she says when they sit on the bench together. "None of us are going to get the job, anyway."

Jungkook looks at her carefully. "Why's that?"

She seems surprised that he's asking. "The Kim heir, the guy you were talking to? He's got a thing for some girl who used to work front desk at BlueField. She applied, so she's a shoe-in."

"She wasn't in the interview?"

Siyeon gives him a look, like he's stupid. "Of course not. Why would she need to interview?"

Jungkook stares at her for a second, then he laughs and looks away. Of course. His mother had warned him, hadn't she? She'd told him he would suffer through hours of grueling interviews only for the job to go to someone with connections. He has no reason to doubt Siyeon; he isn't a fool. He grew up understanding quite well how often these jobs went to people who didn't deserve them. Hadn't he scored an internship in his mother's company without ever interviewing? If he'd stayed with her, she would have vaulted him right to the top of the company like it was nothing. He would have supervised people with three times the amount of experience as him, and no one would have said a word. 

"Fuck," he says, still laughing, because of course this would happen on his very first interview. 

Siyeon looks almost regretful. "I thought everyone knew," she says. "That's why no one tried all that hard."

He’d felt like everyone was trying hard enough, but that just goes to show how much he knows. "What was the point of interviewing then?"

She shrugs. "It helps for them to just see your face, doesn't it? Maybe next time, when that girl gives up and quits, they'll remember one of us."

It sounds so pathetic when she says it like that. Jungkook's shoulders slump with sudden exhaustion. He'd been so excited about his stupid suit and the stupid interview. He hadn't realized exactly how naive he was. It wasn't that he thought it would be easy, just that he thought it would be better than this. 

The bus arrives, and they get on. Siyeon's stop comes before his, and he wishes her luck before she leaves. He rests his head against the window for the rest of the ride back to Yoongi's place, the glass cold against his skin. He's so tired. What a waste of a day. He wishes, more than anything, that he hadn't had to see Kim Mingyu's face. On the way back to the building, he stops at the convenience store and buys himself a pack of cigarettes. When he steps into the apartment, Yoongi's sitting on the living room floor, nailing a wooden box together. 

"Hey, hotshot," he calls. "How was it?"

Jungkook kicks his shoes off and wanders into the living room. He shrugs off his suit jacket, making to fling it on the couch but stopping himself at the last second. He still has to return it. He drapes it over the back instead and props open the door to Yoongi's balcony with the vacuum. "You mind if I smoke here?"

"Not if you share," Yoongi says wryly. He scoots the box and his tools aside, making room for them on the living room floor. Jungkook settles down next to him and lights the cigarette Yoongi places between his lips, then his own. 

"I dunno if I told you," Jungkook starts. "But, uh, because my mom found out, she wanted me to marry this girl. The daughter of the CEO of Kim Electronics or whatever."

"Shit." Yoongi's brows raise. "You really were living in a drama."

Jungkook scoffs, taking a drag of his cigarette. The air coming in from the open door toys with strands of his hair. He yanks his pillow down from the couch and tucks it under his head, lying back to face the bright blue sky outside. It's too nice of a day for how terrible he's feeling. 

"Is that why she kicked you out? You said no to the marriage?"

"She said I could marry her or leave, so I left." Jungkook watches the smoke disperse in the air above him. "I saw her brother today, the girl's? Shit, I don't even know her name."

His mother had said that was his own fault. He supposes she's right. 

"He works at the place you interviewed?"

"He's backing the whole company," Jungkook says bitterly, shaking his head. "Apparently the job I applied for is going to someone he has connections with. And everyone there knew, I guess. They were just interviewing to interview. Except me, because I'm an idiot."

"You're not an idiot. Fuck that guy." 

"Just feels like whatever you do, life's stacked up against you."

Yoongi hums. He yanks down a pillow for himself and lies down next to Jungkook, shoulder-to-shoulder. "Yeah. Life's like that."

"I'm sorry. Feel like I've been living in such a bubble, and things have always been like this for you."

Yoongi turns to look at him, lips curling into a half-smile. "I wish you didn't have to learn. I wish things could have been easy for you." His gaze flickers over his face. "But it wasn't worth it, was it? The abuse."

Abuse. Jungkook's chest clenches. He's never really thought of his relationship with his mother like that. "No," he murmurs. "It wasn't."

Yoongi takes a long drag of his cigarette, looking like he's lost in thought. "When I was in middle school, I wanted to go to university."

"You did?" Jungkook glances at him. He hadn't thought Yoongi was ever the university type.

"I wanted to major in literature, be a writer. Maybe teach one day. When I sat down with the career counselor, she told me there was no way I'd ever make it to university. I didn't go to any academies, didn't get tutoring. We didn't have money for that stuff. My grades weren't the best. She told me my only hope for a future was going to a vocational high school and getting a job as soon as I graduated."

Jungkook feels weighed down. Yoongi had dreams, once, and he'd given them up because he had no choice. Because there was no one to support him along the way. "I'm sorry, hyung."

"It's alright. I really like my job, you know? And I don't think I would have been suited to university in the end. Academics aren't my strong suit." He stubs his cigarette out in an empty glass on the table and lies back down. "Probably would have been bullied even worse if I'd gone to an academic high school. All the rich kids go to those. I only got messed with if I ran into guys in the neighborhood."

"Still," Jungkook murmurs. "You should have had the chance to go after what you wanted."

"Yeah. I should have. But life doesn't work like that. The obstacles are endless. You do what you can with what you have, and then you make the best of it."

"So wise, hyung," Jungkook says, and he's only half-teasing. Yoongi nudges him. 

The sun is beginning to set, fading light leaking in through the open door. It casts Yoongi in a warm glow, and Jungkook finds it hard to look away from him. It was a horrible, terrible day, but Jungkook can feel it all fading away under the comfort of Yoongi’s presence. It’s always like this, he realizes. Yoongi always makes everything better. 

His next words come unbidden. 

"Why were you scared?"

He asks the question that's been lingering on the tip of his tongue since the day Yoongi had admitted it. Looking at him now, Jungkook realizes he has to know. He has to understand what Yoongi had been afraid of when he told him what Jimin said then ran away from him.

Yoongi gives him a questioning look, not quite remembering. 

"I asked you why you told me what Jimin said then didn't talk to me again. You said you were scared. You never told me what you meant."

Yoongi looks away. His dark hair falls into his eyes, and Jungkook resists the urge to brush it away. "You said your feelings were only there because you were a kid. I was your only friend. Did you mean it?"

"I asked first."

"I asked second."

They stare at each other, at a standstill, tension thick in the air between them. Jungkook breaks the eye contact first. He tosses an arm over his forehead, shielding himself from the brightness of the setting sun. It’s been long enough. He’s kept it locked inside for so long that he’s tired of it. After everything he’s gone through, everything he’s given up and everything he’s gained, Jungkook thinks he owes it to himself to let it out. 

If Yoongi can make even the hopelessness of a day like this go away, then Jungkook owes it to himself to try. 

"You probably don't remember this, but when I was 11, you gave me a gift. A mixtape."

Yoongi's voice is soft. "I remember."

"You asked me if I'd gotten you anything, and I said no. But I was lying."

Yoongi waits. 

"I wrote you letters that year. It was always hard, before you moved in, because I couldn't talk to you all year. So I wrote you letters, and I bound them in this little journal that I decorated. I even tied it with a ribbon." Jungkook laughs a little. "It looked like something a little girl would make."

"Why didn't you give it to me?"

"Because it was silly and childish and when you came back that summer, you looked so grown up. I was embarrassed."

"I wouldn't have laughed. I would have liked it."

"I know," Jungkook murmurs. "You never laughed at me." 

"So?"

"It felt like too much of a confession, I think."

Yoongi goes still beside him. Jungkook keeps going, plunging forward with the pent-up desperation of someone who's been holding himself shut for too long. He's afraid that if he stops now, he'll never start again. He’s been locking his feelings inside for so many, many years and now the sight of Yoongi glowing under the setting sun has him letting them go at last. 

"Do you know when I realized I was gay?" He doesn't wait for a response. "After we went to the movies with Jimin. It's funny, now that I look back on it. I was jealous as all hell, but I think I kind of had a momentary crush on him, too."

Yoongi laughs at that, though it's weak. Jungkook doesn't dare look at him. 

"And then I had to think about why I was so jealous." He pulls in a shaky inhale. "When I was in university, I dated this guy for a little while. He was - he was great, everything I could have asked for, but he broke up with me. He told me he thought my heart was somewhere else."

Yoongi's quiet. The silence is so heavy Jungkook feels like it's crushing him. Then - 

"Was it?" 

Jungkook drops his arm so he can look at him. He lets it flood forward, his feelings for Yoongi - puts down his walls. He doesn't think he's ever really been subtle about his admiration, but he looks at Yoongi with all the love that's welled up in his heart and hopes he understands. 

Yoongi's breath trembles. He reaches out, tentative, and touches Jungkook's cheek like he's afraid he'll disappear. 

"I was scared you were still in love with me," Yoongi says, like the first time. "I was scared that I might be in love with you, too."

Jungkook's heart stops, then stutters to a frantic start. He stares at Yoongi, breathing quickly. He waits. 

"I was scared that I was in love with you, and you weren't in love with me anymore. I was scared because you were leaving."

"Are you?" Jungkook dares to ask. "In love with me."

It's Yoongi's turn to let his guard down. He melts. His eyes soften and his lip trembles and he's bare, open and honest, and Jungkook can read it so clearly on his face. He wonders how he'd ever missed it. 

"Yes," Yoongi breathes. 

Jungkook leans in, pressing their foreheads together. He hesitates, their breaths mingling, Yoongi's thumb stroking his cheek. Yoongi brushes their mouths together, tentative, and Jungkook shudders. He parts his lips and Yoongi kisses him, slow and restrained. They fit together perfectly. Jungkook fists his hand in his shirt and brings him down to hover over him, and Yoongi kisses him harder, his hands wrapping around Jungkook's waist, their tongues sliding together. 

Jungkook had never really allowed himself to dream of this. He'd never allowed himself to expect, to wonder, and so everything is new and perfect and precious in its unexpectedness. It feels right like so little in Jungkook's life ever has. He's always known, in his heart of hearts, that Yoongi is it for him. 

Yoongi breaks away first, but he stays hovering over him, resting his forehead against Jungkook's. His thumb draws circles on his hip, burning through his clothes, and Jungkook finds that he can't stop smiling. His gaze flickers over Yoongi's face, taking in the shape of his nose and the slant of his eyes and the curl of his pink lips at close proximity. He could look at him forever in the fading light, memorizing him, learning him. 

"How long?" Jungkook asks, and Yoongi sighs against his lips. 

"You always meant so much to me, even when we were kids. You were so special and interesting and kind. I liked taking care of you. I never had anyone to take care of."

Jungkook reaches up to trace the curve of Yoongi's cheek, the line of his jaw. 

"I don't think I realized the way I cared about you was romantic rather than platonic until the day of your party. That was the first time I finally let myself understand. I was older, and you were a kid for so long, and I - I dunno, I was the hyung. I was supposed to look out for you. I couldn't let myself feel that way."

Jungkook hums, understanding. He runs his thumb along Yoongi's lower lip and Yoongi kisses it. 

"Then, when you were in New York, I kept driving myself nuts with the doubts. Thought - thought you only liked me because I was all you had. Thought I was taking advantage of your trust, that I should tell you it isn't real. You only love me because you don't know any better."

Jungkook frowns, but he lets him keep talking. 

"But that was stupid," Yoongi acknowledges. "You're a man now, Jungkook-ah. You know what you want."

"I do," Jungkook agrees. "I've wanted you forever, hyung. Forever."

Yoongi kisses him again, and Jungkook loses himself in it. Everything fades away. He hasn't had much in the way of love during his life; he has always felt the lack of his mother's love so acutely, so deep in his bones. He'll always feel it. But he thinks a love like his and Yoongi's only comes around for the lucky, and that it'll always be far more than anything he could have hoped for. 

✩✩✩

Jungkook wakes up in Yoongi's bed with Yoongi's side rumpled, warm, and empty.

He groans, stretching long until his muscles grow warm, and rolls out of bed. For a moment he just lies there, remembering the events of yesterday, his belly swirling with giddy butterflies. The sight of Yoongi's face, glowing in the sunset, will be burned onto his eyelids forever. He almost can't believe last night had happened at all. He rolls over, burying his face in his pillow so he can laugh quietly. Then he hears Yoongi clatter around the kitchen and hops out of bed, eager to start the new day.

After a brief stop at the bathroom to freshen up, Jungkook heads to the kitchen to find Yoongi tossing some leftovers onto the counter from yesterday. He's already got the coffee machine going. Jungkook leans in the door jamb and watches him, arms crossed over his chest, until Yoongi turns around and jumps at the sight of him.

"Fuck," he says. "Gave me a heart attack."

Jungkook grins and saunters over, caging him against the counter to steal a kiss. It's minty from their shared toothpaste. Yoongi's hands come to rest on Jungkook's waist, warm against his bare skin, before he pushes him back with a raised eyebrow.

"You've been killing me, you know that? Always walking around without a shirt. Sleeping in your damn boxers."

Jungkook grins wider. "Oh, yeah?" He flexes a bit for show.

Yoongi scoffs. It's his turn to press Jungkook against the fridge, something Jungkook's sure he does just to punish him - it's ice cold against his back. "What happened to my shy baby Jungkook, huh? Who put this menace in his place?"

Jungkook hums like he's in genuine thought, trying not to let himself get too distracted by the way Yoongi's fingers are tracing shapes against his sides. "Shy Jungkook's gone, but I can still be your baby."

When Yoongi kisses him again, Jungkook lets himself melt into it. He doesn't want to sound cheesy, but Yoongi feels like coming home, and he'd never really thought he'd make it here, standing sure in his love for him. Nothing about the place he grew up in had ever really felt like home. There's only Yoongi.

The coffee maker gurgles to a stop and Yoongi finally pulls away, leaving one last kiss for good measure before he sets to finding mugs in the cabinet. Jungkook doesn't move, feeling a little hazy as he watches him pour them two cups and add a heaping spoonful of sugar in Jungkook's.

"What?" Yoongi challenges, amused, and Jungkook looks away. His cheeks feel hot. Maybe he was lying a little about shy Jungkook.

He makes himself useful pulling out bowls and cutlery, adding milk to his coffee before taking a seat at the counter. Yoongi warms their food up and Jungkook plates it, then they're sitting side-by-side, the comforting smell of rice and coffee drifting in the air.

"I have to return my suit today," Jungkook says idly, thinking aloud.

"What's the next step?" Yoongi asks. "Heard back from any other companies?"

Jungkook shakes his head. "Not yet. I'm going to fill out a few more apps today."

"It's alright," Yoongi says. "I know the first one was shit but eventually something's gonna work out. You know that, right?"

He doesn't, but Yoongi sounds so sure about it that he ends up nodding. "Yeah. I know."

He supposes he's right. Eventually, something somewhere will work out. Even if it seems hopeless now, he'll find a job one day. And in the meantime, he has a good thing worked out with the bakery. He'll be alright.

"I, uh - " Yoongi looks uncharacteristically hesitant. He warms his hands around his mug for a moment before speaking again. "I know your plan is to save up enough to move out, but you can stay here."

Jungkook blinks, the giddy butterflies in his stomach moving afresh. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, uh, we're dating now, right? So, you know. You don't really have to move out. We can just share the one room."

Jungkook flushes, sudden heat rushing through his body. "Dating?"

Yoongi stares at him. "Well, yeah. I mean. If you want."

"Obviously," Jungkook bursts, elbowing him, and Yoongi huffs. "No shit. Didn't you hear anything I said yesterday?"

"You're the one acting all surprised."

"Well, yeah, you just asked me to be your boyfriend - "

"I wasn't really asking," Yoongi says wryly, and Jungkook huffs.

"Hyung!"

Yoongi tugs him in by the neck and kisses him quiet. His fingers curl in the hair at his nape, scratching lightly, and he licks into his mouth thoroughly before pulling away. "So?" he says, like Jungkook isn't dizzy and flushed, "Stay?"

Jungkook collects himself, licking his lips. "Is it - is it too soon?"

He doesn't really feel like it is. He's loved Yoongi for so long that nothing feels quick anymore - he would say yes to him in a heartbeat. But logically Jungkook knows that people don't move in together the day they start dating, and Yoongi has always been far more practical than him. He doesn't want him to have any regrets.

"Soon?" Yoongi laughs quietly. "Hasn't it been a long time coming?"

Jungkook finds himself smiling, too. "Long, long time."

"And anyway, you've been staying here for long enough already that we know we get along just fine. We grew up together. I'd say we know each other pretty well, don't we?"

"Yeah," Jungkook breathes. He doesn't want to move out. The thought of their inevitable parting had filled him with so much despondency that he'd avoided thinking about it entirely.

"I don't want you to leave," Yoongi admits, startlingly vulnerable. He looks down at his coffee, soft and a little sad, and Jungkook thinks about all the times they've had to say goodbye. He can't bear to do it again.

"I want to stay," Jungkook murmurs, and Yoongi looks up and beams, shedding the sadness like it was never there at all.

✩✩✩

"She won't see you." Yoongi's voice comes low and comforting from behind him.

"There's cameras on the back gate," Jungkook mutters, because how could he forget? He'd memorized everything he could for the nights he used to sneak out. 

"She isn't home right now. Grandpa told her I'm coming, so she probably won't even check if she gets an alert."

"Yeah," Jungkook says, steeling himself. It doesn't matter if she sees it, not really. "Yeah. You're right."

"Come on." Yoongi laces their fingers together, squeezing Jungkook's hand for support, and leads him to the back door of his old home. 

His grandfather has left it open for them, and they slip inside and walk down the path to his house. Jungkook doesn't look around at the old garden where he'd spent his childhood. He stares at Yoongi's grandfather's house and focuses on Yoongi's hand in his, and before he knows it, they're standing on the doorstep and Yoongi's letting him go. 

His grandfather opens the door and smiles warmly at the sight of them. 

"Jungkook-ah," he smiles. "I'm so happy to see you. It's been so long."

He'd left so soon after he arrived from university that he'd never gotten the chance to see him. It's been four years since they last met. Jungkook steps forward tentatively, and Yoongi's grandfather embraces him with unexpected fervor. Jungkook melts into it, finds his tension easing. They had never spoken much, both of them too quiet for that, but he had always been kind to him growing up, a welcome presence in his life. 

"What about me?" Yoongi snarks. "Ah, no love for your own grandson."

His grandfather scoffs and waves him off. "I see your face too much. Come, Jungkook-ah, I have your favorite pastries."

He leads the way to the kitchen, and Yoongi smiles at Jungkook when his grandfather’s back is turned. He rests a hand on the small of Jungkook’s back and urges him forward. Jungkook enters the kitchen and sits at the table, finding it covered with all of his favorites. He feels abruptly like crying. 

"You remembered," Jungkook murmurs.

"Of course. How could I forget?"

Yoongi makes them all tea, and they sit and catch up for a time. It's nice, comforting, and Jungkook enjoys himself. When they've finished snacking and settled back, Yoongi gives Jungkook a look. Jungkook responds with a subtle nod, and Yoongi turns to his grandfather and clears his throat. 

"Grandpa, we wanted to tell you something," he starts.

His grandfather looks between them amiably. 

"Jungkook and I are dating."

Jungkook swallows, almost surprised at how bluntly Yoongi had admitted it. He resists the urge to sink into himself. His grandfather looks between them again. Then his lips stretch into a smile. 

"Finally," he says.