Chapter Text
Jungkook keeps his promise, hardly making it to the couch to gently lower Yoongi to the cushions before Yoongi flinches minutely and Jungkook’s lip wobbles and his eyes fill with tears. When Yoongi sighs, fondly exasperated, Jungkook hastily swipes his forearm across his eyes to wipe away the tears, and shakes his head quickly.
“No, I’m sorry, I - I’m fine, I’m - you can rely on me, please. I can help, I can!”
And Jungkook does help, persistently, for hours on end, uncharacteristically quiet and subdued. He cleans the bathroom, does the laundry, cuts up fruit for Yoongi to chew slowly where he’s draped across the couch. Jungkook takes out the trash, organizes Yoongi’s medications, and makes them both lunch, tongue poking out in concentration. Yoongi wants to ruffle his hair, wants to get up and shove him onto the couch, wants to make him pause for just a second and talk to him, but Jungkook’s been changing the subject incessantly when Yoongi tries to turn the conversation to how Jungkook is doing, to ask about him in any way, and Yoongi grows steadily concerned as he watches him keenly over the stew Jungkook made them. It’s not until almost evening when Yoongi finally manages to coax the restless boy over to settle on the couch beside him, and Jungkook ducks his head and avoids his gaze.
“I don’t know what you mean, I’m being normal, this is what I’m always like.” Jungkook mumbles, not meeting his gaze, and Yoongi raises an eyebrow, reaching over to lace his fingers through Jungkook’s, then startling when Jungkook’s eyes abruptly fill with tears.
“Hey, hey.” Yoongi tightens his grip on Jungkook’s fingers as Jungkook hastily raises his other hand to brush away tears. “What is it, what’s wrong?”
Jungkook shakes his head frantically, eyes bright with tears, and Yoongi’s heart squeezes at the sight. “Jungkook.” He keeps his voice soft, kind. “Ggukie, what is it?”
Jungkook’s shoulders shake suddenly, and when he sags onto the couch, he drops his hand to let the tears spill over, and takes a wavering breath. “I’m fine, I - nothing’s wrong, I’m just -” Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut, but tears still trickle down his cheeks, and Yoongi tightens the grip on his hand, then goes still in shock when Jungkook suddenly sobs.
“I’m sorry, I - I’m just s-sorry that… that you didn’t feel like you could call me to get you from the hospital. I - I know that’s not your fault, of course I’ve never been s-someone you could rely on.” Jungkook sobs, a strangled, miserable sound, and Yoongi is frozen, concern pulsing and throat feeling constricted when Jungkook gasps through tears he’s futilely trying to keep from falling. “I’m - I’m s-sorry you’re always there for m-me and I’m not there for y-you when-” Jungkook shakes his head fervently when Yoongi tries to speak. “God, I’m - I’m making this about me when you’re the one h-hurt, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Yoongi, I -”
Yoongi grabs Jungkook’s other hand as it rises to swipe away his tears, and yanks him down. Jungkook yelps when he topples forward towards Yoongi’s uninjured shoulder, catching himself with a panicked jolt, voice high with panic. “Yoongi! I could’ve - I could’ve -”
Yoongi just winds his fingers into Jungkook’s cotton sleeve, tugging insistently until Jungkook’s head is resting against his chest, and drops a hand to gently card through dark strands. He winces when Jungkook’s frame shudders against him once, twice, before his tears begin soaking through Yoongi’s shirt, and Yoongi closes his eyes, draws Jungkook closer.
“Gguk, it really wasn’t about relying or anything, it…” Yoongi sighs. “It was just me being stupid. I was being stubborn and selfish, and I’m sorry. I didn’t want to need help, even though I did need it. Obviously.” He blinks up at the ceiling, then reaches down to tip Jungkook’s chin up to face him, feeling a surge of fondness at the big, watery eyes gazing sorrowfully up at him. “I would have called you, Jungkook.” Yoongi presses genuinely. “Of course I would have called you. I know I can count on you for anything.”
“I just… I…” Jungkook’s voice breaks, and he looks miserable, and Yoongi shakes his head, voice firm but gentle.
“You just nothing, Gguk. Of course I can rely on you for anything. For anything.” Jungkook’s breathing is still shaky when he burrows back against him, and Yoongi strokes through his dark hair with a fond smile. “I’m sorry, Jungkookie.”
Jungkook jolts at this, raises his head frantically to protest the apology, then sees Yoongi’s smug grin, scowling at having fallen for it. With a huff, he reburies his face in Yoongi’s chest, and Yoongi grins, poking his forehead teasingly and laughing when Jungkook turns and bites his forearm in retaliation. But Jungkook’s arms rise to wind around Yoongi carefully, and he makes no move to get up, and Yoongi adjusts his arms holding Jungkook against him, and his heart beats warm and steady, and he smiles.
Yoongi has more of an appetite when it comes to dinner time, and his pain is manageable with the medications kicking in as Jungkook bustles around the kitchen, making them a light stir fry Yoongi had taught him a few months prior. Jungkook peppers him for details about the surgery, about the expected recovery, about the hospital and the surgeon. Yoongi is scrolling through his phone aimlessly when Jungkook huffs, and he glances up to find Jungkook frowning at the lightly bubbling vegetables.
“Jin said you gave the hospital a fake phone number and told them it was his.”
“Yeah, he’s out of town. I didn’t want to bother anyone else.” Yoongi shrugs.
Jungkook turns to scowl at the rice maker. “Yeah, anyone but Jimin.”
“He was a wrong number! I didn't exactly call him." Yoongi can’t help his laugh. "You’re jealous of Jimin?”
“What?” Jungkook’s head shoots up from where he’s stirring the broth, and his voice is high and indignant. “I’m not jealous!”
“Sure you’re not.” Yoongi grins, and Jungkook stomps his foot.
“I’m not!” Jungkook’s head whips to face him, eyes wide. “Wait, why? I thought he - didn't he just drop you off?” Jungkook’s eyes narrow when Yoongi looks away. “I thought he just dropped you off and stayed a bit, isn’t he just some stranger?”
Yoongi shuffles on the couch without looking up. “I mean… I guess he stayed a bit longer than that.”
Jungkook’s stare bores into him from across the room. “How long?”
“Umm… overnight.”
Jungkook’s eyes are comically wide when Yoongi dares a glance at him, and Jungkook’s voice jumps several pitches. “You slept with him?”
Yoongi’s face flushes, and he growls, “Look at me, I can’t sit up. You think I slept with someone?”
Jungkook shakes his head, wrinkling his nose. “Obviously I didn’t mean like that, I just… you let him sleep here? You let him… sleep here with you?”
Somehow, it’s even more embarrassing to admit to, especially when Jungkook crows with delight at the terse nod. “You’re blushing!”
“I’m not.” Yoongi turns his face into the couch, but it’s futile when Jungkook bounds into the living room, beaming.
“Do you like him?”
Yoongi groans, but Jungkook just crashes down eagerly beside the couch.
“You like him!” Jungkook’s excitement is gratifying somehow, delight so genuine in his wide smile. “You like him, you have a crush!”
Yoongi’s smile creeps slowly across his lips when he murmurs, “I did kinda ask him out.”
Jungkook leaps into the air with a cheer that makes Yoongi laugh so hard his shoulder aches distantly. “You asked him out!”
Jungkook is useless for the next half hour, crowing and cackling and generally overjoyed with Yoongi’s small accomplishment, and Yoongi hides his grins when he weakly throws a pillow in Jungkook’s direction and resorts to sticking out his tongue. Even with how attentively and gently Jungkook changes the bandages for him and helps him take his medications for bed, it doesn’t prevent him from teasing Yoongi relentlessly through the process. But his eyes shine with sincere delight, and Yoongi smiles into his pajama sleeve as he waits for Jungkook to brush his teeth and get ready for bed, grateful he's not in the room to see the way Yoongi blushes when he spots the bedside table where Jimin had so fascinatedly asked him about music, had held his hand as he'd struggled through waves of pain, had held him as he drifted restlessly in and out of sleep. Yoongi's fingers brush over his cheekbone where Jimin's lips had so fleetingly pressed, and he looks down at the bedspread, cheeks warm, and smiles.
Jungkook is meticulous as he lowers Yoongi carefully onto the painstakingly arranged cushions to accommodate the curve of his body and to ensure none of his weight rests on the wound. Then, naturally, Jungkook crawls into the space he’s left for himself, draping himself along Yoongi’s side with a soft sigh. Yoongi laughs and flicks his forehead when Jungkook nuzzles into his side, but Jungkook just rolls closer with a pout, tucking himself under Yoongi’s good arm and wriggling in until he’s cozy, and Yoongi laughs and ruffles his hair. Jungkook fumbles for his hand, tugs it close to him, and squeezes it. “I’m… I’m really glad you’re okay, Yoongi.” Jungkook breathes quietly, and Yoongi smiles.
“Thanks for taking care of me, Ggukie.”
Jungkook’s voice drags with drowsiness. “I’m calling the hospital tomorrow and giving them my number instead.”
“Sure.” Yoongi murmurs agreeably, shaking his head.
“If you don’t call me next time you need me,” Jungkook whispers sleepily, “I’m biting holes in all your shirts.”
Yoongi laughs, patting the hand Jungkook has curled beside him fondly. “Okay, that’s only fair.”
Jungkook pushes his face into Yoongi’s shoulder, muffling his mumble. “I love you.”
Yoongi’s heart warms, and his smile is soft. “I love you too, Ggukie.”
Jungkook’s deep, even breaths are a comforting background noise as Yoongi settles himself against the cushions, breathing deeply through the faintly ebbing pain as the medications take effect. He’s pleasantly tired, in much less pain than the day prior, and his first session of physical therapy starts tomorrow, mixed dread and anticipation. His eyes are closing against his will, Jungkook warm and steady against him, and everything feels more manageable somehow, more promising than last week when he’d managed to finally get on the schedule for surgery, the whirl of blunt fear and useless anxiety and vague irritation and distant worry. But he was able to get the procedure, and he’s recovering, and he could’ve just reached out for help, but he got it in the end, and even met someone, met someone so - so -
He’s already drifting hazily into sleep when he tugs his phone out, lips twitching into a smile, heart fluttering in his chest and face warm.
(11:27) Thank you again for everything yesterday Jimin. Can I buy you coffee tomorrow?