Chapter Text
Spring is the time of new beginnings.
In spring, the chill in the air smells less like a threat and more like potential. The sun on your skin feels like a promise. This is how Jungkook feels on a brisk Wednesday morning, walking down the quiet cobbled streets of a town he knows so well and finding it almost brand new.
Something about today feels like both a promise and a threat rolled into one. His mind is as calm as the gentle breeze, but there are shivers hidden under his skin that he can’t quite explain.
It’s grown to be a rare sight: being up this early, getting to see the town sleepily roll to life. He used to embark on this walk every day, out of the house before eight in the morning, round this corner and that, and in school before half past. But now, over a year since his last educational commute, the timbre of his shoes on the tarmac and the juddering scrapes of tired workers setting up A-Boards are familiar in a nostalgic kind of way.
He’s only worked a handful of weekdays so far, but today is the second Wednesday he’s been asked to do in a row, and something in the air tells Jungkook he wouldn’t mind if it wasn’t the last. Spring is the time of new beginnings after all, and if it’s almost officially summer already—well.
That just means he needs to get a move on.
The door chimes prettily as he pushes through it. Greta is quietly setting up behind the bar while Seokjin is nowhere to be seen.
Jungkook voices a modest “Hi.” as the door falls shut behind him.
“Heya.” Greta sing-songs. Her voice is as cheery as the bell above his head, but her face stays blank as she concentrates.
Greta is a nice woman, if a little intimidating (as nice women tend to be.) She’s one of the only members of staff remaining from before Seokjin became manager. The rest left (or were asked to leave) along with the old one, but Greta and the owner's son were allowed to stay. Jungkook has covered her shift more than he’s worked with her, but today Seokjin has all three of them in for what’s expected to be a busy week.
“You’re early.” She comments shortly as he moves.
“Oh, yeah,” He pauses, hands awkwardly resting on the straps of his rucksack. Greta continues organising various fresh delicacies across the counter, and how calm he feels about her half ignoring him is making him nervous.
Lots of things cross his mind, like making a joke about being eager, a joke about normally being late (even though he’s been four minutes early every single Saturday for the past five months.) Maybe he shouldn’t have come in so early. Maybe there are special rules about opening up he wasn’t aware of. Maybe that’s stupid and he’s making the moment weird by thinking about it. Maybe he should just walk away. Maybe he should walk out the door, come back in and pretend to say hello for the first time again.
He doesn’t say anything, hovers flightily at the bottom of the stairs.
“Alright, Bambi-in-the-headlights.” Greta tuts. “Put that look back where it came from and go put your stuff away,” She smiles endearingly down at the muffins. “You’re making me suspicious.” She still doesn’t look in his direction, but her bright chuckle rings through the air like a windchime, and anxiety melts out of Jungkook’s body like butter on a summer's day.
He becomes aware of his racing thoughts only as they calm down.
Greta is still minding her business, tired rings adorning her eyes while her hands now move assuredly over the sink.
“While you’re up there, can you grab that tray that Seokjin’s hidden in the office?” Her quiet voice travels easily over the sound of rushing water. “I know he hates the stuff but there's an empty space on the counter, and Bella will crucify him if we don’t sell it all.”
“Oh,” Jungkook nods, before realising her back is turned.
“If he catches you, tell him I’m saving his own ass.” She laughs.
“Yeah,” Jungkook croaks. “Of course.”
It feels as if a physical weight is lifted from his chest when he empties the air trapped in his lungs, trying to regulate his breathing.
“Thanks, love.”
A small smile flickers on Jungkook’s face as his hands relax from their death grip on his straps.
Somehow, Greta smiles back.
“Hey, can you take this out for me?”
“Yeah, ‘course.”
Jungkook feels more relaxed than he ever has after working short staffed through a busy period. Other than a single volunteer over lunch, it’s only been the three of them all day. But Seokjin and Greta are experienced enough to make up three Jungkook’s each on a good day.
Jungkook’s been having a great day today, though. He hasn’t faltered on the till once, he spent a solid twenty minutes alone on the coffee machine, and he hasn’t even zoned out while clearing a table, either.
Now that it’s quietening down, an hour before closing, Jungkook finds it a nice change of pace. He still feels that buzzing under his skin, though, still feels like he’s doing everything a little too fast and enthusiastically. Those new beginnings are hiding just around the corner, and with their looming presence, the excitement in his tummy feels a little like danger.
Oddly reminiscent of weeks prior, Jungkook doesn’t even realise he’s carrying a cappuccino across the ground floor before he looks up, focusing on his trajectory, and feels a brief panic from being wholly unprepared.
There Hoseok sits, in what must be his workout clothes. Baggy shorts and a blue tank top. A hoodie is draped over the back of his chair, leaving the skin on his chest and shoulders and arms exposed, a light sheen of sweat making it glint as he breathes. Jungkook, embarrassingly, feels his mouth water.
Strands of his hair are wet, stuck to his face, while most of it has been pushed up by his hands. He’s looking up at Seokjin—who stands confused beside him—with such a hard expression, Jungkook has to suppress the urge to shudder lest he spill the drink.
His body faithfully (traitorously) carries him forwards while his mind is writing an epic about traversing the joint of Hoseok’s neck and shoulder. Then he’s there, far too close to just stand awkwardly in silence. Jungkook swallows. Something resemblant of ineptitude gets stuck in his throat.
“C–Cappuccino.” He wheezes, staring at the rim of the cup, unable to look into anyone’s eye if he’s about to do what he’s about to do. They both turn to look at him, and he leans forward, placing the drink on the table. There's a second where everything is kind of alright. Then he realises Hoseok is going to have to say ‘Thank you.’ or acknowledge him, or something. He starts to heat up, warmth prickling along his hairline, spreading across his back. The words he wants to say are rushing towards his tongue like a race against time, but they’re tripping over twigs and branches, live vines slithering through their path.
“I–I,” he starts. He looks at Hoseok right in the face; his gentle eyes, soft, thin lips set in a small, inquisitive ‘o’. He looks approachable, he looks, honestly, quite beautiful, and he looks expectant, in a kind, patient sort of way. “L–like your outfit.” Finally finds itself on the other side of the jungle, relatively unscathed.
He immediately forgets every other word in any language he knows.
But Hoseok’s answering smile is the most blinding he’s ever seen, like a star so close it’d be a shepherd we’d name The Sun, and Jungkook decides he doesn’t need them anyway. It’s all the relief he needs; makes the shake in his hands worth it, alleviates him of his biggest worry––that he’s doing something wrong.
It’ll only be later, when Jungkook’s back is turned, and he hears Seokjin call “Bye!” to the tinkle of the door; only when Seokjin, immediately after, side-eyes him, like he’s watching a snail move in the rain, will he realise he just attempted his first flirt on his boss’s friend, directly in front of his goddamn boss.
Hoseok watches Seokjin serve a table nearby him. He appears to be in his element, humming a tune with a pleasing curve to his lips. It makes him look all sorts of benign and approachable, despite Hoseok knowing his natural resting face is more akin to a supermodel’s stare.
“Oh wow!” Seokjin exclaims, leaning down to place one of two coffees on the table. “I love your dress.” He appraises one of the women sitting there, leaning back and giving her a once over like he’s only just noticed. She’s dressed in a plain purple thing that wouldn’t make Hoseok, or probably anyone for that matter, bat an eye.
“Oh,” The lady giggles and blushes like she’s been reverted back forty years to a teenager, “Really?” She nervously brushes her hair behind her ear.
“Totally!” He says enthusiastically, and looks directly away from her and to his laden hands. It doesn’t seem like she notices. “Here’s your americano, lovely.”
“Oh bless you.” She coos, busily taking the cup from him.
“You know what goes really well with a black americano?” Seokjin brandishes a pointer finger and widens his eyes like he has a secret.
“What’s that?” She asks, incredibly invested in his tone––and definitely not the perfectly shaped lines of his stupidly attractive face, or the broad shadow cast by his strong, masculine shoulders.
“The pomegranate flapjack. It complements our coffee blend amazingly well,” He gives a deep, overexaggerated nod of his head, then perks up as if he’s just realised something. Hoseok gives him a six for effort––not that it matters. It’s not Hoseok he needs to convince. “We have some on the counter if you want to try it out for yourself!”
“Oh, really?”
“I think you deserve a treat, don’t you?” His smile is gorgeous even from across the floor, eyes squeezing into shining crescents, lips curving, perfectly sweet.
“Oh, perhaps I’ll test it out if that’s the case.” She laughs a little shakily, failing to remove the fluster from her face. “The pomegranate flapjack?”
“Exactly that! You won’t be disappointed.” Hoseok thinks he sees him wink. He rolls his eyes.
Seokjin turns around and shakes out his head in a shudder, like the interaction unpleasantly infected him. That’s when he catches sight of Hoseok, and he pauses like he’s seen a ghost. Hoseok raises a hand, gives an awkward twiddle of his fingers and a silly grimace.
Seokjin quickly moves over to the table.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” He says looking down at Hoseok. He talks slightly under his breath, like it’s a bad spell.
Hoseok blinks up at his friend.
“Nice to see you, too.”
“You’re…” Seokjin gives him a slow once over. One of his hands is subconsciously hovering apprehensively in the air. It flaps pathetically. “…Disgusting.”
Hoseok lets the knot forming in his brow turn to stone. Seokjin’s expression doesn’t budge either.
“Thanks.”
“You’re sweating up my shop.” Seokjin straightens up, dropping his arms and tilting his head like a frustrated preschool teacher. “You’re going to put my paying customers off.” He huffs, sounding pained.
“I’m one of those paying customers, you dick.”
“You look gross.”
“Yeah I know I look gross, I feel gross, too.”
“Why do you look so gross?” Seokjin continues like he’s not really listening. Hoseok sighs, the chair creaks as he slumps back in it.
“The showers at the hall aren’t working.”
Seokjin blinks rapidly.
“Then…” His hands turn outwards from where they hang by his sides. “Go home?”
Hoseok’s eyebrows shoot up his head. Go home? Go home? He looks away and shakes his head in disbelief. If only he knew.
If only he knew how last night, while packing his bag for the morning last thing, Hoseok made a blood curdling discovery. He somehow lost his printed out lesson plan, and therefore had to rushedly re-write it by hand at 2AM. Then obviously his lack of adequate rest made him sleep through his alarm, and in his hurry he forgot the packed lunch he lovingly prepared for himself. If only Seokjin knew the pain of the agonizing fact that Yoongi doesn’t get any service at the studio, and on top of it, has a horrible, inconvenient habit of disconnecting from the wifi when he gets super focused on something.
Hoseok’s just had the worst day he’s had in the past two weeks and literally all he wants to do is be well scrubbed and freshly tangled in clean sheets. Go home. Hoseok scoffs. Unfortunately, it seems the universe has other plans for today.
“Dude,” He lets the anger from the day seep into both his face and his voice. “I slept three hours last night.” He counts each point out on the fingers of one hand. “I haven’t had shit to eat, class ran on almost half an hour, I walked twenty minutes when it’s hot as fuck outside, and I can’t get a hold of my ride home.” He drops his hands, exasperated. “I just need a fucking coffee, okay?”
Seokjin’s eyebrows twist in a strange way, like they’re fighting between sympathy and disgust. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but someone approaching clears their throat.
Jungkook’s uncertain voice calling “cappuccino” causes both Hoseok and Seokjin to turn. The hard edges of their expressions melt as they recognise him, holding a cup and saucer out before himself with both hands. He places it on the table in front of Hoseok without taking his eyes off of it and then he straightens up, flicking his gaze between Hoseok’s face, shoulders, and somewhere off to the left. He looks like he should be shaking in his boots, but there's a determined set to his brow. A second before the silence would become awkward, he speaks.
“I like your outfit.” He says, and then he stops looking Hoseok directly in the face. Hoseok’s brain lags a bit behind, but then it catches up. He breaks out into his first genuine smile of the day.
“Thank you.” He says, a little slow. Jungkook nods and spins around, and he’s gone almost as quick as he came. Hoseok's lips don’t drop as he watches Jungkook walk away, his large silhouette looking small and soft the further it gets.
Hoseok looks up and gets his second reason to smile. Seokjin is still looking at where Jungkook disappeared around the corner, expressing a well baked mixture of disgusted, offended, and ultimately confused. Hoseok fails to stifle a giggle and goes to pick up his coffee.
“Whatever you’re thinking, stop it.”
“What do you mean?” Hoseok plays ignorance, shrugging and smiling as he takes a sip.
“Whatever you’re about to say, don’t.” Seokjin is doing his best warning voice, but it just makes it harder for Hoseok not to laugh.
“I wasn’t going to say anything.” He takes a pathetically small sip for fear of it dribbling past the upturned corners of his mouth.
“Whatever is about to happen, I don’t support this.”
Hoseok outright grins, tongue coming out to press at his bottom lip. He winks at Seokjin, who braces like he’s about to shout. It makes Hoseok smile wider.
“This is going to be fun.”