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A week ago, if you had told Min Yoongi, Chief Operating Officer of BH Entertainment, that he’d be spending the upcoming weekend holding his assistant’s aunt’s purse while she shopped for their engagement gift, he’d have laughed in your face. Then maybe slammed the door in it.
But that is, in fact, exactly what he’s doing.
“This color would look good on you.” Jungkook’s aunt presses a lavender dress shirt up to Yoongi’s torso, eyeing him up and down with a cluck of her tongue. He’s only been here for half a day, but he’s already learned that she’s a force of nature despite being a whole head tinier than him. “You ever wear anything that’s not black, honey?”
He resists pointing out that he’s only worn one outfit since they arrived that morning, obviously, and it just happens to be all black. (It’s the latest in fashion, though, trim slacks and a designer coat and his shining Rolex. Yoongi doesn’t do unfashionable.)
“You should wear this at your wedding,” she continues cheerfully. “In fact, wear a lavender suit. Head to toe. I’ll buy you matching shoes.”
Yoongi cringes. “Uh, I don’t think that’s--”
“Sounds like a good idea.” Jungkook’s voice from behind him makes him jump. His arm comes to slide around Yoongi’s shoulders, a wicked grin on his face. “You should wear purple, hyung. You’ll be a trendsetter.”
As soon as Aunt Jihee looks away, Yoongi elbows Jungkook in the ribs.
Jungkook pulls back and glares, rubbing his side. He’s still pissed. Yoongi can’t really blame him; he’d sort of roped him into the whole situation, but it wasn’t like Jungkook was leaving this empty-handed.
After all, a promotion strikes Yoongi as a pretty good deal in exchange for a temporary marriage.
Monday, ~8 AM:
Jungkook brings Yoongi his Americano with two extra shots of espresso and a cream cheese bagel from his favorite bakery down the street. Then he tells him there’s been another call from immigration, an urgent one (“Sir, you should really call them back this time--”) but Yoongi rushes off to a meeting with a guest producer and forgets all about it.
Tuesday, 2:40 PM:
The CEO of BH Entertainment calls Yoongi into her office and tells him he’s being deported back to Korea.
“Why the hell haven’t you renewed your visa yet, Yoongi?”
Yoongi hasn’t been to Korea for longer than a month since he was eleven years old. He’s not an American citizen yet; he’s subsisted on a visa for years, at least until he forgets to renew it because he ignores Jungkook every time he reminds him.
So he panics. You can’t blame him for panicking, it’s kind of a panic-worthy situation, and Jungkook happens to slip into the office with a phone call right then. So he panics, grabs Jungkook, and tells the CEO they’re getting married.
“He was born here. They can’t deport me if I’m marrying a citizen.”
Wednesday, ~2 AM:
“I’m not marrying you. You hate me.”
“Who cares? It’s only, like, a year--”
“I can’t just lie to everyone I know--”
“I can’t get deported to fucking Korea--”
“What the hell am I getting out of this, anyway?”
“If I get deported, you’re not gonna have a job, either--”
“I’m employed by the company, not you--”
“A promotion.”
“A what?”
“I’ll talk you up. Get you a better position. A shot at producing.”
“You can-- you can do that?”
“Sure I can.”
A moment of deliberation, followed by another, followed by another, and then--
“Fine. Now hang up and go to sleep .”
Thursday, 5:30 PM:
The immigration officer doesn’t buy it.
“Convenient time to get married, eh?”
He threatens to interview all their friends and family. Conveniently, Yoongi doesn’t have much of either. Jungkook has a lot of both and a weekend trip already planned to visit, which strikes Yoongi as the perfect time to announce an engagement.
Jungkook’s not so sure.
Friday, 6 AM:
Yoongi and Jungkook board a plane.
“What about this one, Aunt Jihee?” Jungkook says sweetly, pointing at the ugliest patterned suit Yoongi has ever had the misfortune of laying his eyes on. “Won’t Yoongi hyung look so good in that?”
Jihee wrinkles her nose. “Jungkook, stop teasing him. That’s ugly.”
Yoongi breathes an audible sigh of relief; Jungkook looks disappointed.
They’re lucky Jungkook’s family is mostly accepting of his sexuality. Yoongi’s parents aren’t around anymore, but if they were, he’s not sure they would be the same.
“Where’d you boys say your rings are again?”
They haven’t said. They glance at each other in a moment of panic before Jungkook says, “Uh, fitting. We got the wrong sizes.”
“Idiots," she says, and Yoongi doesn't know her quite well enough yet to tell if it's fond or scathing.
"You didn't think of rings?" Yoongi hisses when she's no longer listening.
"You're the one who proposed to me," Jungkook hisses back. Yoongi, for the thousandth time in two years, wonders why he hired an assistant with so much sass. "Anyway, this is your stupid idea--"
Jihee turns around, and Jungkook's mouth snaps shut. "This one," she says decidedly, "for Jungkookie. Honey, go try this on."
Jungkook takes the baby blue dress shirt from her without so much as a sigh. He disappears into the changing room, and Yoongi slumps onto the bench outside while Jihee sifts through a box of ties and cufflinks lying on a display table nearby.
"What do you think of this?" She holds up a red tie patterned with cartoon characters. A snicker threatens to escape him; he rubs his nose to hide it, glancing at his watch like he's preoccupied.
"I like it." He pulls his best poker face. "I think he'll love it."
Jungkook emerges, the dress shirt tucked into his skinny jeans to test the fit. The light blue suits him, makes his skin pop, though Yoongi doesn't want to admit it, and the slender fit does wonders to accentuate his narrow waist and shoulders. Yoongi fiddles with the fit of his watch. Stares at his shiny black shoes, a muddy scuff marring the tip of the left one. Jungkook hadn't told him they would have to walk up a hill to reach his family's house.
"Here." Jihee shoves the tie into Jungkook's chest. "Try this."
"You're kidding me." Jungkook stares at the bubbly cartoon drawings with a quirked brow. "Aunt Jihee, you know we're shopping for a wedding, right?"
"Wait that long to put it on and I'll die of heart failure first. You know that runs in the family." She clutches her chest and stumbles a little, holding Jungkook's arm for support. It's obviously a joke but Jungkook's eyes widen a little, anyway.
It's kind of endearing.
"Don't joke about that!"
"Then put it on, honey."
He sighs, steps in front of a mirror, and raises his collar.
"Wait." She frowns, turning to face Yoongi, and jabs her phone in his direction. "Put it on for him."
Yoongi's gaze shoots up from his feet, mouth opening a little. "Uh, sorry?"
"You're getting married. That's what married couples do. Tie his tie for him."
"That's really not necessary--"
"I'm a grown man, I can tie my own tie--"
Jihee’s pink, bedazzled phone comes to smack Jungkook's ass. He jumps, glaring at her through the mirror, and grabs his ass like it hurt.
"Hyung," Jungkook says. He's embarrassed. Yoongi catches the hint of pink cheeks and a slight slumping of his shoulders. It’s still strange to hear him say hyung . Yoongi is accustomed to the much more impersonal sir . But Jungkook had asked to call him hyung. My family will probably think it’s weird if I don’t. "Tie my tie for me?"
Yoongi can't pass up a chance to humiliate Jungkook. So he steps up to him and takes it, reaching to wrap it around Jungkook's neck. The tie really does look ridiculous. He has to move closer to knot it properly, their toes touching. The lack of distance makes him acutely aware of their difference in height and how it makes Yoongi's stomach turn. Jungkook smells nice. Shampoo and coffee, even though Yoongi knows he hates coffee; he buys himself a cup every morning along with the one he fetches for Yoongi, just in case he spills it. He's never actually spilled Yoongi's coffee, he's just paranoid. He ends up drinking the spare cup every morning, nose scrunched at the bitterness.
Yoongi tightens the tie more than strictly necessary. He glances up, realizes Jungkook's looking down at him, and they really are awfully close. His nose could touch the top of Jungkook's lips if he inched just the slightest bit forward. The smattering of pink is still visible on Jungkook's cheeks, and he's chewing on his lower lip, brow furrowed.
Jungkook's handsome. Yoongi knows this. He's stared at his pretty face every day for two years, seen it blotted with stress, and in the midst of laughter and anger both. He’s admired his big eyes that make him look a little lost and his strong jaw, the dimple in his chin, his cheekbones and his cute nose. Yeah, Jungkook's attractive, and maybe sometimes it stresses Yoongi out.
Yoongi finishes tying his tie, clears his throat, and moves away.
Jungkook's father is not nearly as friendly as the rest of the family.
Yoongi meets him the morning they arrive. He's stiff, cold; he shakes Yoongi's hand and says, "So you're my son's boss?" Then he looks at them and their intertwined hands with a gaze full of judgement. But it's the way he looks at Jungkook that bothers Yoongi the most. It's a look of perpetual disappointment, and it makes Yoongi's skin crawl.
It turns out Jihee’s shopping trip was a distraction for the real events of the afternoon. When they return to the pretty house atop a hill overlooking the lake, they're greeted with a loud cheer and a living room full of grinning people holding confetti. Jungkook's mother, Jiyeon, is at the forefront. Yoongi catches a glimpse of his father hovering at the boundaries of the crowd, a glass of wine in hand.
It's not really as large of a crowd as it seems on first glance. It turns out to be mostly family: Jungkook's uncle and his wife and three kids, his cousin and her boyfriend, an aunt and her dog. There are a few of his old friends, too, and that's the most uncomfortable part of the night.
"You didn't even tell us you were dating!" one of them says, and she looks appalled. "I thought we were supposed to be friends ."
Jungkook rubs the back of his head and shyly laughs off all criticism. It's an enviable attitude. Yoongi sticks close to his side, both because they've got to look like they're in love and because he's nervous. He can intimidate a roomful of producers into following an album concept the way he wants, but here he's out of his league. He's not sure how to charm his fiance's loved ones. He'd never even planned on having a fiance.
It's inevitable that they run into his father. He's growing tipsy, Yoongi can tell just by the flush in his cheeks.
"So, Yoongi," Sungmin says conversationally, cornering them in the kitchen. "What exactly does my son do as your assistant?"
Yoongi can feel Jungkook stiffen next to him. He moves unconsciously, doesn't mean to do it yet finds himself placing his hand on the small of Jungkook's back. "Quite a lot, actually."
Sungmin chuckles. "Oh, yeah? Midday coffee runs? Does he have the art of memorizing coffee orders down?"
Jungkook bristles. "Quit it, Dad."
Midday coffee runs are in Jungkook's contract. He knows Yoongi's coffee order like the back of his hand. But Yoongi doesn't like his father's implication. That's not all Jungkook does for him. "Last week, he was an intermediary between me and a graphic designer looking to work on an album cover project. He basically negotiated the deal himself."
Jungkook's gaze burns into the side of Yoongi's head, but he doesn't meet it. Sungmin raises an eyebrow. "Fancy way of saying he answers your phone calls?"
"Dad."
Jihee and Jiyeon interject, slipping into the kitchen with slices of cake. "What's going on here?" Jiyeon says, smiling between them. It's something of a plastic smile. Yoongi figures she's accustomed to the tension between her son and husband.
"Just chatting." Sungmin raises his wine glass to them, then turns away and ambles off into the living room.
"Well," Jihee says. "It's storytime."
"Storytime?"
“Everyone wants to hear how the proposal happened!” Jiyeon finishes, eyes alight with excitement. Yoongi hadn’t thought the sisters looked much alike, but seeing them now, he can catch the resemblance.
Jungkook’s fingers close around Yoongi’s sleeve. They hadn’t gone over a proposal story.
“Come on,” Jihee says. No one disobeys Jihee, so they follow her to the living room, where everyone turns to look as soon as they enter.
“Who proposed?” one of Jungkook’s friends calls out, perched on the edge of her seat with an eagerness that makes Yoongi queasy.
“Uh, I did,” Yoongi says, if only to protect his reputation as the elder.
“He took forever,” Jungkook adds, hand coming to rest on the small of Yoongi’s back. “Honestly, I was going to propose in a few weeks if he didn’t.”
Yoongi’s smile tightens. “I didn’t take that long. I just wanted to make sure he was ready, you know?”
“He was just nervous,” Jungkook says easily, patting Yoongi’s stomach. “He’s a lot more sensitive than he looks.”
“I wasn’t--”
Jihee, who’s sitting not far from them, taps her foot. “Get on with it. How’d you drop the question?”
“I, uh, at a restaurant. The ring was in his fortune cookie.”
“He watches a lot of movies,” says Jungkook, and everyone laughs.
“Jungkook loved it,” Yoongi bites back. “He’s such a sap. Cried and everything.”
“I shed, like, one tear--”
“His whole face was all puffy and red. Tears just streaming down his cheeks. It was cute.”
Jiyeon puts a hand over her heart, like she’s seconds from crying, too. Jungkook pinches Yoongi’s back. Nearby, Jihee starts to chant in time with the thump of her foot against the floor.
“Kiss, kiss, kiss--”
Yoongi blanches as a few of Jungkook’s friends and cousins join in. He’d always thought it was a stupid American movie concept, your loved ones wanting to see you kiss. The last thing he expected was Jungkook’s family to encourage it. Then again, Jihee is just something else.
Jungkook swoops down and pecks Yoongi’s cheek, feather-light. It takes him by surprise, and his face grows hot.
“That’s not a kiss.” Jihee takes her irritation out on whoever’s standing closest to her, which unfortunately happens to be Yoongi. Her bedazzled phone connects lightly with the side of his thigh. He jumps, flinches more out of surprise than pain into Jungkook’s side. He’s starting to wonder if she even uses her cellphone, or if it’s just a device of intimidation. “What are you, five? Give us a real one.”
Yoongi stares at all the eager faces staring back and realizes they aren’t getting out of this one, not without drawing suspicion. So he turns to Jungkook, whose eyes are wide in panic, and threads his fingers in his hair to pull him down until their mouths meet.
Jungkook’s lips are soft but a little chapped, warm against his. He kisses him sweetly, and Jungkook kisses back almost immediately, arms twining around Yoongi’s waist. Their chests brush, Jungkook’s solid and warm, and his hair’s soft on Yoongi’s rough fingers. He’s thought about kissing Jungkook before, he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t, and it’s nice. It feels good. Jungkook’s sweet, tentative, melting into Yoongi’s lead even as he asserts his own.
The sound of the others clapping and whooping feels almost muffled, but not enough so that Yoongi can forget they’re there. He pulls away. Jungkook stares at him, cheeks pink, eyes still wide.
“Now that’s a kiss,” says Jihee.
It’s expected. Inevitable, even. They’re sharing one room, and one room means one bed. There are, in fact, two of them. Two of them who aren’t dating and don’t share a bed and don’t particularly want to, either.
“Bed’s mine,” Yoongi announces, falling face-first into the collection of plush pillows. He’s older; it’s only fair. Anyway, he’s Jungkook’s boss.
(A part of him considers that this is Jungkook’s house, Yoongi’s fault, and Jungkook has complained in the past about backaches.)
“Who says?” Jungkook tosses his coat onto the desk and falls right onto the bed next to him. The movement jostles Yoongi, and he shifts to look at him.
"I'm your boss."
"This is my house."
"Sleep on the floor. I'm your hyung."
"This is my bed."
At that Yoongi starts, sitting up to glance around him. "This is your room?"
It doesn't look like it would be Jungkook's room. The walls are bare save for a landscape painting above the bed, and the sheets are maroon and gold. A case for a pretty fountain pen lies on the desk, and the bookshelves hold a collection of rather dull coffee table books. Yoongi would have imagined Jungkook to have a room with more personality. Something livelier, like himself.
"It was. When I moved to New York to work at BH, Dad got Mom to turn it into a guest room."
Jungkook flops around a little, cheek pressing into the covers so that it puffs out, lips slightly parted. His lashes cast shadows on his cheekbones when he closes his eyes. He’d looked so pretty after they’d kissed.
"Fine," Yoongi mutters. "Then I'll sleep on the floor."
"No, you won't."
"Then I won't sleep."
"You have to sleep. At least sleep when it's vacation."
Last week, Jungkook had slipped into his office well past midnight with a cup of instant ramen in his hand. "You're probably too cool for cup ramen," he'd said. "But you should eat this." He hadn't eaten ramen in years, actually, but he'd scarfed down the cup in minutes. At the time, he'd been too hungry to wonder why Jungkook was still at work. Later, Mark told him Jungkook liked to stay back to work on music. He wants to be a producer .
"We can just share, you know," Jungkook says. "It's big enough."
Sharing a bed with Jungkook is the absolute last thing he wants to do when he’s still stuck thinking about what it felt like kissing him. He considers kicking Jungkook out of bed, but he really does have backaches. Yoongi doesn’t actually want him to sleep on the floor. He snatches a pillow from the bed when he gets up and marches over to an armchair by the window. “I’ll sleep here.”
If he curls up small, the chair is roomy enough.
“Hyung, you’re being stubborn.”
“Of course I am,” he snaps, shifting around until he’s comfortable, knees tucked into his chest. “How do you think I made COO at 28? By being stubborn, that’s how. You should learn a thing or two.”
"I don't know if I want to be so stubborn that I don't sleep on time, subsist only on coffee, refuse to do anything outside of work, ignore the CFO because he got the same haircut--"
"Are you done?"
"I'm not, actually, thanks for asking."
"Shut up and go to sleep. Didn't your aunt want to wake up early to see the sunrise or something?"
"She's gonna kill us if we aren't up on time."
Jungkook flicks off the lamp by the bed, bathing the room in darkness save for the moonlight filtering in through the partially-curtained window. Yoongi wraps himself around a pillow and closes his eyes. He can hear Jungkook's soft, muffled breathing, the sound of sheets rustling as he moves.
"Aren't you gonna change?" Yoongi says after a moment of silence, remembering that while he'd thrown on sweats and a t-shirt in the bathroom, Jungkook was still in his clothes from the morning's travel.
The bed jostles as Jungkook moves around. Yoongi furrows his brow, wondering what the hell he's doing to move around so much, when he sees a pair of pants fly over the bed and onto the floor. A shirt follows.
Oh.
They only manage another minute of quiet before Jungkook breaks it to say, "Hyung, just use the bed."
"I'm fine."
His next words come quiet, so quiet that Yoongi almost misses them. He realizes, later, that he's probably meant to. "You really don't like me, huh?"
The thing is, that's not the problem. It never has been. It's the opposite.
Jungkook is handsome and funny and he's far too trusting for his own good. Yoongi likes him more than he should like him. He's his assistant. Yoongi isn't big on work relationships; those never end well. But even if that weren't a factor, Yoongi has had a rather bad bout of luck when it comes to relationships. He just wants to focus on his work. So he keeps his distance.
But suddenly he's thinking about how that might come off to Jungkook, who's always tried, who's always kind of looked up to him. He frowns into his pillow, an uncomfortable sense of guilt settling into his stomach. He never meant to come off like he didn't like him.
He slips off the armchair and pads over to the bed, tossing his pillow onto the empty side. Then he yanks the covers away from Jungkook and lies down with his back to him, tucking them to his chin.
"Night," he says.
Jungkook doesn't say anything at first. Later, when Yoongi's eyes are drifting shut and his breathing has started to slow, the murmured reply comes. "Night, Yoongi hyung."
"Does that look like a goddamn stretch to you?" Jihee whacks the back of Yoongi's thigh as he bends over in a pitiful attempt at touching the ground with his legs spread, the stretch burning his muscles. "The tips of your fingers aren't even touching the ground."
Apparently waking up to watch the sunrise translates to rolling out exercise mats and stretching by the lake in front of Jungkook's house. It's chilly and Yoongi didn't bring anything casual to wear, so he's still in his pajamas. A few feet away, Jungkook bends easily into a stretch, ass jutting into the air. He glances up and shoots Yoongi a triumphant grin.
"If I go down anymore, I'll break in half," Yoongi says.
Jihee clucks her tongue. "Jungkookie, honey, you need to work on him."
"Don't worry, I will," Jungkook says with a rather wicked glint in his eye.
Yoongi pulls out of the stretch with a groan. Even Jihee can rest her palms flat on the ground in front of her.
"Breakfast!" comes a cheerful call from the direction of the house. Jungkook's mother stands on the porch, waving at them. Yoongi waves back before rolling up his exercise mat.
"Look at you, so eager to run away," Jihee teases.
"I can't stretch when my stomach's rumbling, Aunt Jihee," Yoongi teases back. "Once I get some food in me, I'll be even more flexible than you."
From the corner of his eye, he catches Jungkook smile.
Yoongi's mother has laid out a full Korean meal on the kitchen table in front of the big, open windows overlooking the water. There's a pot of rice, a steaming bowl of doenjang soup, kimchi, and some side dishes. It smells amazing, and it’s unexpected, though now Yoongi realizes he should have seen it coming. He hasn’t had proper Korean food in a long time. His parents were the only family he had in the states, and after they died, he hasn’t been around other Koreans as much as he’d like to be. That and he can’t cook for shit, so aside from the Olive Chicken down the street from his apartment, he doesn’t eat a lot of Korean food.
"This looks amazing," he says, taking the seat across from Jihee and next to Jungkook. His parents sit on either end. "Thank you."
His mother beams. "Of course. Dig in."
"Want some bean sprouts, hyung?" Jungkook asks. He nods. Jungkook places a few in his plate, and Yoongi ruffles his hair in thanks. When he glances up, he realizes Jungkook's mother is watching them with a fond smile.
"We're so happy to have you, Yoongi," she says. "Jungkook's the baby of the family, you know. We were all so worried when he said he was moving all the way to New York to pursue music. He had a tough time in the beginning too, didn't know anyone and work was tough. It's so nice to see him settling in."
Yoongi glances at Jungkook. He's staring at his food, cheeks pink. When he looks back at Jiyeon, he realizes her eyes are glistening. She casts them to the ceiling and dabs a finger under to catch a tear before it falls.
"Mom," Jungkook mumbles, embarrassed yet clearly a little worried.
"I'm fine, I'm fine."
"She's a big sap," Jihee says. "Why aren't you boys eating?"
Jiyeon and Jihee are as attentive to Yoongi as they are to Jungkook. They pile food onto his plate and offer him seconds and encourage him to eat his fill. It's nice. He hasn't had anyone to worry about him in a long time. With a table full of homemade food and Jiyeon fussing over him in Korean, he starts to feel rather nostalgic. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed being around people like him. He’d been excited when he first hired Jungkook and learned he was Korean, but then his mixed feelings about him started to come into play, and he’d shifted into avoidance.
When he refuses the creamer Jiyeon offers for his coffee, she even scolds him.
"Black coffee is bad for your stomach."
"Oh, you have no idea," Jungkook says through a mouthful of rice. "He drinks, like, six cups of coffee a day."
"Six cups! Yoongi, honey, that's a terrible habit."
He flushes, rubbing the back of his head. "Yeah, I know." It should be annoying, someone telling him what to do. It's not. It makes him feel warm.
The anxious swirl of guilt that had settled in him the night before grows. It's almost suffocating. Jungkook's family has opened their arms to him, and they're just lying. He doesn't want to imagine their faces when they announce their divorce only a year later.
"Every morning," Jungkook says, "He drinks an Americano with two extra shots of espresso."
Yoongi's about to nudge him and tell him to quit exposing him like that when Sungmin, for the first time that meal, speaks beyond the occasional grunt of acknowledgement. "You really do have his order memorized for those morning coffee runs, huh?"
Jungkook's fingers tighten around his chopsticks until they turn white. He doesn't look at his father, stares at his food instead, but he doesn't move to take another bite.
"So is that it?" Sungmin continues. "That the extent of your big move to New York? Relegated to buying coffee for your boss, now you're marrying him? Are you even going to move on with your career or are you going to live off his pay for the rest of your life?"
Jungkook's shoulders tense. Yoongi bristles. At the same time Jiyeon says, "Sungmin, stop," Yoongi says, "Are you calling your son a gold digger?"
Silence falls, but only for a moment.
"Your words, not mine," Sungmin says.
"I'm assuming you aren't aware of how the entertainment industry works, Mr. Jeon, but everyone starts out with coffee runs. I still remember my boss's order. Jungkook's only 24. He has plenty of time to accomplish his goals."
"You're hardly older than him. You're the COO."
"Well, I got lucky." His tone turns bitter. He can't help it. "And I gave up a damn lot to get here. He shouldn't have to do that. He doesn't need to."
"Hyung," Jungkook murmurs, his hand coming to rest on Yoongi's arm. But Yoongi isn't done yet.
"He's been promoted, actually. We wanted it to be a surprise. He was going to wait until things were finalized to tell you."
Jiyeon starts, eyes wide. "Oh, Jungkook, that's wonderful!"
"Knew you could do it, honey," says Jihee, patting his hand across the table.
Yoongi doesn't tear his gaze away from Sungmin’s, challenging. "Congrats, son," Sungmin says, raising his glass briefly in Jungkook's direction. Then he stands and leaves the table.
The lake outside Jungkook's house is beautiful. It stretches for miles, a smattering of pretty houses on its opposite bank interspersed with trees and white fences. The water rolls in tight, choppy waves, sunlight glinting off the crests. A cool breeze wafts through his hair as he lies on a reclining chair by the water, just down the hill from the house, with his sunglasses on and a stack of paperwork he doesn't want to do on his chest.
"Hey."
It's Jungkook. He's in shorts and an oversized t-shirt, and he looks so endearingly casual that for a moment, Yoongi just stares. He's never seen much of Jungkook outside the dress shirt and slacks of the workplace. "Hey."
Jungkook takes the seat next to him, tucking his knees into his chest. He looks smaller like that. Younger, his chin resting atop his knees. He's only 24. Yoongi's known him since he was fresh out of college, hopeful and wide-eyed. Yoongi's known him since before he learned exactly how cutthroat the entertainment industry really is.
"Thanks," Jungkook says. He doesn't look at him when he says it, staring at the water, lashes framing his pretty eyes. They're sparkling even brighter than the waves. "For, um, sticking up for me. In front of my dad."
"No offense," Yoongi murmurs, "but your dad's a dick."
Jungkook laughs a little. "Yeah. I know."
"You're gonna be fine, you know. Don't let him convince you you're going nowhere."
"Yeah."
"I'm only here because I gave up everything else. All I do is work, Jungkook." He gestures to the paperwork even now lying on top of him, waiting. "I've lost track of all my friends. Haven't had a family since my parents died. Haven't been in a relationship in years. I don't think I even know how to love." He sighs, sitting up, resting the paperwork in front of him. "You don't have to be like me to succeed. Take your time. You'll get there."
Jungkook's looking at his hands, now, fiddling where they're wrapped around his knees. "That's not true, you know."
"What?"
"You do know how to love."
Yoongi snorts. "Oh, yeah? How would you know?"
"Remember the intern from last year, Tzuyu?"
"She hated me."
"No, she didn't. You were tough on her, but by the time she left, she'd learned so much. You know she cried when she left? She said she didn't wanna leave because she didn't think she'd ever find a boss like you again."
Yoongi's quiet. He hadn't-- he hadn't seen it like that. The others at the company talked shit about him behind his back. Said he was mean, cold, didn't care to understand anyone.
"Sure, you made her redo the file folders like three times because they weren't perfect, but you also dropped her name in every meeting you attended. She got so many networking opportunities because of you. And that one time she fell asleep making copies, you put your jacket on her and did the rest yourself."
"How'd you know that?" He didn't think anyone had been around to see.
Jungkook shrugs. "I pay more attention to you than you think."
He doesn't know what to make of that.
"And there was that time you called in sick even though you weren't and cancelled a meeting because we overheard Mark talking about how badly he wanted to go to his mother's for her birthday dinner that evening, but he couldn't because of the meeting, and he was afraid to ask off."
"How'd you know I wasn't sick?"
"I know what you sound like when you're sick, hyung. You're a hell of a lot whinier."
"Hey."
"The point is, you're a really good guy." Jungkook looks at him, finally, and he looks kind of embarrassed but kind of hopeful, too, like he needs Yoongi to believe him. Yoongi pushes his sunglasses onto his head so he can look at him back. "I don't know why you think you aren't."
They stare at each other for so long it's almost uncomfortable. Yoongi's heart thuds in his chest. He wants to believe him, almost as much as Jungkook wants him to.
Jiyeon breaks their reverie. "Yoongi, honey," she calls, coming down the hill. "Can I talk to you for a bit?"
"Coming." He gathers his papers and walks off to join her.
"I have something for you."
They return to the house together, where she leads him to the kitchen. A small velvet box lies on the counter; she opens it and holds it out. Inside is tucked a plain gold ring. It's slender and pretty. "This was my grandmother's. She gave it to my mother, who gave it to me when I married. I was saving it-- well, it's a woman's ring, and I had thought Jungkook would marry a woman before-- I mean, I know now. I want you to have it."
Yoongi's eyes flicker up to hers. She looks hopeful, too. Yoongi wonders what it is about Jungkook and his family that's so damn warm. That makes him feel like he belongs.
Maybe it's just that he's forgotten what it's like to have a family.
"I know it's for women, but it's rather plain, and your fingers are slender. So I thought, maybe, I could give it to you anyway."
Yoongi clears his throat. There's something blocking his air and his eyes burn and his fingers shake when he takes the box. "Thank you. This-- this means the world to me."
She's getting teary, too. She blinks them away and laughs it off. "Welcome to the family, Yoongi."
From the living room, Yoongi can hear the muffled sounds of Jiyeon watching Korean TV-- a drama, maybe. Rice sits in the cooker by the stove, and there’s a half-empty bowl of soup on the counter. Yoongi hadn’t meant for it to happen, but it feels like home.
“Thank you,” he says, “for treating me like family.”
She cups his cheek in her warm hand. It surprises him, but he leans into it unconsciously. “Jungkook told me about your family. You don’t have anyone here in America, do you?”
He shakes his head. His vision’s blurry. He blinks to clear it. “No, I-- it’s been a really long time--”
He doesn’t manage to finish, but she doesn’t need him to. Her smile is fond, genuine, and Yoongi’s forgotten what sincerity looks like, too. “You have us, now. I’m gonna be your mom, okay?”
“Okay,” he says, choked.
Yoongi runs all the way outside. Jungkook's where he left him. He grabs his arm, yanks him to his feet, and keeps on running.
"Hyung, what the hell--"
He doesn't stop until they're well away from the house, in the middle of the road that leads to town. Then he slows to a walk and lets Jungkook pull him to a halt.
"What's going on?"
"We gotta tell them the truth."
Jungkook's eyes widen comically. "You want to do what ?"
"Your mom gave me her grandmother's ring. She's so happy that we're getting married because she's worried about you, Jungkook. She really wants me to be part of the family. What the hell's gonna happen when we come back in a year and tell everyone we're getting divorced? She's gonna be devastated."
"Hyung." Jungkook places calming hands on his shoulders, but Yoongi can't be calm. His fists are clenched, his foot tapping an anxious rhythm on the road.
"And what about Jihee? She's gonna have a fucking heart attack or something."
"You're being dramatic."
"We can't do this to them."
"What are you gonna do? They'll deport you. You'll lose your whole career. Do you even know anyone in Korea?"
He doesn't, not anymore. His parents are dead. He's been gone too long. "It doesn't matter. This isn't worth it."
"They're gonna be sad if we tell them now. They're gonna be sad if we tell them in a year, too."
"Better now than a whole fucking year of fake happiness--"
"It doesn't have to be fake," Jungkook mumbles, the words quiet and running together so that Yoongi almost doesn't catch them.
His shoulders slump. Fists unfurl. "What?"
"I'm just--" He stares at his feet, rubs the back of his head. "Couldn't we be happy together?"
Yoongi stares at Jungkook, and Jungkook studiously avoids his gaze. He doesn’t understand. Or he does, but he’s not sure if he’s right, not sure if that’s what Jungkook’s getting at--
Because that can’t be what Jungkook means.
“Jungkook, do you like me?”
Jungkook’s eyes come to settle on his, finally, and he looks rather defeated. He chews on his lower lip and says, “Yeah.”
Yoongi wonders what he’s been missing. Wonders how Jungkook-- golden boy Jungkook, optimistic, hardworking, lively Jungkook-- could like him, Min Yoongi who does nothing but work and drink too much coffee. “How long?”
Jungkook shrugs. “A while.”
Yoongi sits heavily on the curb.
The first time they met was in an interview, Yoongi behind his desk with his shirt sleeves rolled up and tie loosened, Jungkook on the other side in a neat suit with a too-tight collar. He’d been nervous, fiddling with the resume in his hands before he gave it to Yoongi, clearing his throat between answers. Yoongi had found him endearing-- endearing, attractive, earnest. And he was Korean, like Yoongi.
He was so perfect Yoongi almost didn’t want to hire him; he was too close to everything he wanted.
But he was the best applicant, so he’d done it. Being together all the time didn’t help things. Yoongi fell fast, and he fell hard. He didn’t have time for relationships, didn’t have the energy for them, so he’d crafted a careful distance between him and Jungkook. He was good at keeping the distance, though Jungkook wasn’t. He was sweet and a little naive and he was always trying to get under Yoongi’s skin, whether it was by teasing him about the coffee he drank or bringing him late-night snacks to make sure he didn’t starve.
“I’m sorry,” Jungkook mumbles. “I know it’s weird because you’re my boss, I never planned on saying anything, I just-- can’t help it, I guess.”
“Don’t be sorry.” Yoongi runs his hands through his hair, looks up at Jungkook, whose body blocks the sun, remnants of light peeking around him. The past few days have made Yoongi realize something very important: he’s tired of being alone. “Me, too.”
It doesn’t register at first. Then it does, and his face lights up, glows . His pretty lips curve into a smile, and his eyes widen, and Yoongi’s chest feels tight. He wants to kiss him. He really, really wants to kiss him.
“Is that why you asked me to marry you?” Jungkook says, the hint of an amazed laugh in his voice.
“Maybe. Maybe it was like a subconscious thing. Is that why you agreed?”
“I just wanted to help you.” He scuffs his toes against the pavement. “I didn’t want you to leave.”
“Cute,” he says, and there’s a gooey sort of fondness in the way he looks up at Jungkook, there must be. “What are you doing falling for your shitty boss, huh?”
“You’re not shitty, hyung, no one thinks you are--”
Yoongi laughs quietly. “Come here.”
Jungkook comes to sits on the curb by his side, an inch of space between them. “So what now?”
“We have to call off the marriage, Jungkook.”
Jungkook stiffens. “No, we don’t.”
“We’re lying to your family. They don’t deserve that.”
“If we call it off, they’ll send you back to Korea. You’ll lose everything.”
The silent admission lies at the end of his words, hovering on the tip of his tongue. Yoongi hears it, anyway. I’ll lose you .
“We can just get married,” Jungkook urges. “We like each other, yeah? We can use the time to get to know each other.”
“Get married so we can date?”
Jungkook shrugs. “Sure.”
“Jungkook, you know marriage is a big deal, right?”
“You’re the one who roped me into this to begin with.”
“Yeah, well. I panicked and I fucking regret it. But you’re only 24. Do you really wanna be stuck with me already?”
“Look, if it doesn’t work out, then it doesn’t work out. Isn’t that the point of dating? To try? And if it doesn’t work we’ll get divorced at the end of the year, no hard feelings.”
“There’s going to be hard feelings,” he says with a fond, exasperated laugh. Sometimes Jungkook is so endearingly hopeful he makes Yoongi want to hope, too. So what if they last the year? What about the next year, and the one after that? Getting divorced is much harder than breaking up. “It’s not that easy.”
“Of course it isn’t. Nothing is as easy as it sounds. Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try.”
Yoongi has always admired that about Jungkook. No matter the obstacle, he always tries.
“Let’s just get married, hyung. Then you won’t have to leave. We can figure the rest out later.” He grows abruptly shy, fiddling with his fingers. Yoongi reaches out and wraps his hands around Jungkook’s anxious ones. “I want to be with you.” His eyes are soft, warm.
It would be easy to get used to a life like this; a life waking up next to Jungkook, eating meals with him, worrying about him.
“I want to be with you, too,” Yoongi says.
“Then let’s try.” He slips his hands from under Yoongi’s so he can thread their fingers together. His hands are calloused and warm.
Maybe it’s a bad idea. Maybe it’s a terrible idea, actually. But still Yoongi finds himself saying, “Okay. Let’s try.”
Kissing Jungkook is something else Yoongi could get used to.
He’s already starting to become familiar with it, with Jungkook’s hands threading through his hair and the press of his mouth, both hesitant and insistent in turns, and the warmth of their chests brushing. As he licks lazily into Jungkook’s mouth, he thinks he could probably spend all day kissing him. He’s familiarizing himself with the hard lines of Jungkook’s torso when there’s a knock on the door.
They leap apart in a millisecond.
Yoongi dives to the opposite end of the bed, perching on the edge like he’s been there all along. He glances back at Jungkook, whose chest is heaving like his, cheeks flushed and hair ruffled.
“Fix your hair,” he hisses.
“Fix yours,” Jungkook snaps back.
They pat themselves down and straighten their shirts before Jungkook clears his throat and calls for the knocker to enter. Jiyeon and Jihee step inside. The matching smiles on their faces make Yoongi wary.
“You two were up to something,” Jihee says immediately, glancing between them with a raised eyebrow. She’s relentless. Jiyeon nudges her.
“No,” they intone, even though there’s really no reason to hide. They’re engaged. They’re sharing a room. Yoongi’s as embarrassed as a teenager with his first boyfriend, anyway.
“Did you need something?” Jungkook asks.
“Actually,” Jiyeon says. “We have a proposition--”
“You should get married here with us,” Jihee blurts.
Yoongi and Jungkook exchange a glance.
“Today,” Jiyeon adds, and their eyes widen.
“That’s really not necessary--”
“We’d rather marry in New York--”
“Don’t you want your poor aunt to see you married before I die?” Jihee says, clutching her chest.
“That’s not funny , Aunt Jihee.”
“So it’s settled,” she says cheerfully. “You’re getting married today.”
Then she turns around and leaves the room, pulling Jiyeon along after her.
Yoongi collapses onto the bed with a groan. “Your family is ridiculous.”
Jungkook smiles. It’s a mix of mischievous and fond. “Better get used to it,” he says, and Yoongi thinks that he’d like to.