Work Text:
Apparently, carnations were Jungkook’s favorite flower.
Yoongi became unlucky enough to discover this small piece of trivia on a dreary weekday morning as he hunched face-first over a toilet bowl, having been abruptly woken up by a burning sensation in his throat shortly followed by an exponentially worsening tightness in his chest.
Of course, he knew what it was- what it had to be. That didn’t stop his mind from reeling in appalled disbelief at the implications that accompanied his sudden diagnosis.
Hanahaki Disease.
It was a peculiar disease in and of itself; the kind of ailment that most people only knew of from textbooks and friend-of-a-friend’s-second-cousin type rumors. A disease where a seemingly ordinary person, mysteriously begins to cough up petals from the favorite flower of the person they are in an unrequited love with. How romantic. Even just thinking about it made Yoongi want to gag, and not just because apparently he was now dying.
Although the disease was oftentimes fatal, the actual rate of people to contract this disease was so low that it was hardly even thought about. After years of vigorous research, doctors finally just concluded that the disease was so rare, simply because of the incapability of the average person to feel such selfless devotion towards the person they love. A devotion that they would unquestionably and unconditionally die for.
Of course, Yoongi thought that was complete and utter bullshit. Selfless devotion? Me? Really? He considered the possibility that this was some sort of mistake in the grand design. Yoongi wasn’t some naive romanticist, and he certainly wasn’t wide-eyed enough to fall into something as pathetic and pitiful and deplorable as a one-sided infatuation.
And yet here he was, coughing up into a toilet enough carnation petals to decorate a medium-sized wedding.
When the hacking had finally subsided, Yoongi couldn’t help but grumble about his terrible luck. Yoongi was an introvert by nature, armed with an assortment of scowls and sarcasm in an effort to keep people at arm’s length. It made absolutely no sense how a quiet boy like Jungkook had one day just sat down next to him in their Musical Composition class, and three months later was the epicenter of Yoongi’s every waking thought.
Hell, the pair hardly even spoke. Jungkook was an annoyingly shy freshman Voice major, and Yoongi an overly defensive and altogether grumpy senior Music Production and Engineering major. They had been paired together by an overexcited music professor to compose and perform a musical piece; so all the time they had spent together so far had been strictly professional. Professional.
So really, there was no way that Yoongi actually fell in love with the guy. Ridiculous. So what if his singing sounded like angels weeping? Impossible.
He glared down into the water, resentment and denial leaving a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. Pink, he noted dryly. I’m being killed by a flower that’s fucking baby pink. How fitting.
The carnation petals were soft (and so pink) and dewy, floating in the toilet water like they had just been drifting along through the air, before fluttering soundlessly over the water’s surface.
***************
The pair met every Tuesday and Thursday in the library during their lunch gap, and spent Friday afternoons huddled in a corner of a coffee shop on campus, pouring over sheet music and lyric notebooks. 3 days a week. Yoongi was the kind of guy who barely even loved his parents, let alone a guy he met with outside of class 3 days a week.
The Friday after Yoongi’s symptoms had first appeared, he spent about an hour debating on whether or not to actually show up to their meeting. He had ashamedly chickened out on Thursday, but Jungkook was much too polite to send him a questioning text for essentially standing him up. Somehow, the thought of the younger sitting alone in the library made Yoongi feel a little guilty.
When Yoongi finally entered the coffee shop, he immediately spotted Jungkook sitting in their usual spot, munching on a chocolate chip cookie as he scribbled in his notebook. His cheeks were flushed- probably due to the recently cold weather- and his hair was a catastrophe on Earth. No doubt, this was from excessively running his fingers through the fluffy dark strands- a habit Yoongi noticed Jungkook displayed whenever he was completely concentrated.
The other boy glanced up from his work as Yoongi rather shakily approached the table. Jungkook gave a small smile, shy but friendly, before shifting over the contents on the table to try and make room for the newcomer. Yoongi silently took the empty seat across the table, making an effort to act normally because really, everything is fine, it had to have been a mistaken. When he reached out to grab his notes from his bag, he grimaced when he noticed the trembling of his own fingers.
The pair spent the better half of the afternoon polishing their song. When it came to finalizing the chorus melody, for once Yoongi found himself short on ideas; years of songwriting and composing seemingly useless. (Which dumbfounded him more than anything because music was practically his life and he just didn’t get writers block.) He had been wracking his brain for melodies, musical chords, rhythms, anything really, when Jungkook had softly tapped on his hand. His fingers were delicate and graceful, like a pianist’s. Yoongi found himself wondering if he played.
Yoongi tilted his head in Jungkook’s direction to indicate that he was listening, but couldn’t seem to make himself meet the other’s eyes. The younger began to hum quietly, a gentle melody that melted over his skin like honey. His voice was lilted and pure, the kind of voice that songwriters spent lifetimes seeking out to breathe beauty into their songs.
When Jungkook had finished humming the chorus, Yoongi found himself wondering how he hadn’t realized the melody sooner. It was a perfect fit to the song, and it was like there was simply no conceivable way the melody could be anything different.
There was a sudden itch in the back of his throat, but Yoongi forced down the petals he could feel aching to burst from his mouth with a few large gulps of Jungkook’s vanilla latte. Jungkook gave him a surprised look, but didn’t seem to mind sharing.
“What’s your favorite flower?”
Yoongi hadn’t meant to ask so suddenly, but his sudden need for reassurance forced the words from his mouth before he could bite them back.
Jungkook’s doe eyes widened almost comically, surprised both because of the abrupt question, and because the two of them had hardly ever talked about personal things while together.
“Ummm… Carnations, I guess.” He answered shyly, tugging restlessly at his sleeves. “Why?”
He had already known the answer, but Yoongi couldn’t help but feel resentment bubble in the pit of his stomach. The confirmation of his impending demise only made the situation feel more real. He couldn’t help but feel bitter towards the boy who was unknowingly killing him.
As Jungkook continued to glance over the papers in front of him, nibbling on his third cookie, Yoongi silently cursed his music professor as well, for assigning them this stupid project in the first place. While he was at it, he sent spiteful internal messages towards the whole goddamn universe. It didn’t make him feel any better.
“No reason.”
***************
“Namjoon, shut up.”
“Yoongi, how long have we known each other?”
“That’s Yoongi-hyung to you, brat.”
“Okay Yoongi-hyung, how long have we known each other?”
“Too long.”
“Bzzzzzz. Wrong. The answer you’re looking for is, ‘long enough for me to be able to see through your bullshit’.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yoongi.”
Yoongi turned in his chair to pointedly glare at Namjoon. Namjoon rolled his eyes.
“Yoongi-hyung.” The nerve.
“Better.”
“Wonderful. I’m so glad you’re satisfied. Now tell me about this damn song.”
“You’re going to have to be more specific.”
Yoongi and Namjoon had been holed up in their studio for most of the day. And also most of the previous day. Truthfully, they hadn’t even slept since they started working. Yoongi just knew that in another few hours Jin would show up, scolding and yelling, to drag them out of their ‘cave’ and haul them back to their respective apartments.
It had taken the duo nearly five years to save up enough for their dinky little studio. It was located a little ways off campus, but it was close enough to where both of them lived to be within walking distance. Any time they weren’t in class or at home, Yoongi and Namjoon would usually be found in their studio, making music.
It had been in this studio where Namjoon’s last mixtape had been created through sheer effort and force of will. Namjoon was a bit of a legend in the underground rap scene, and armed with their own studio for recording and producing, the pair had suddenly turned making music from a pastime into an all-consuming life career.
Yoongi was currently sitting at the main computer, fiddling with different beats for his music project and wishing that Namjoon hadn’t also needed to work on a project at the same time. Namjoon was on the sofa behind Yoongi’s place at the soundboards, laptop propped open precariously on his legs in a manner that made Yoongi certain he was a sneeze away from needing to purchase a new computer.
Unfortunately, Yoongi had forgotten his headphones that day, and had been forced into using the normal speakers on his computer to listen to the playback of his song. And of course Namjoon would take an interest in his current song.
Namjoon was probably the only person in the world who understood music like Yoongi understood music. The pair had spent countless hours slaving over pieces together; pouring their souls into their art. Namjoon was even helping Yoongi with his current mixtape, which was about as close to actual emotional intimacy with Yoongi as one could get.
But even Yoongi couldn’t have known how revealing one song could be.
“The song you’re working on now! Tell me who you’re writing it for!”
Yoongi stiffened, and was suddenly thankful that the large hoodie he was wearing would help to hide his tense form. “I didn’t write it for anyone in specific.”
“Liar."
Yoongi didn’t respond, pretending to take interest in his computer screen and fiddling with buttons.
“C’mon hyung, you can tell me.” Namjoon said. “You know I won’t judge.”
Yoongi let out a sigh, leaning back in his chair until his face was tipped towards the ceiling. He knew Namjoon wouldn’t judge. More importantly, he knew Namjoon wouldn’t tell.
“Fine.” Yoongi relented. “It’s a project I’m writing with this kid in my class.”
Namjoon was silent for a moment as he processed this. Yoongi internally cringed. Namjoon was always the type to overanalyze everything.
“You’re doing a group project?” He finally asked. “Who’s the kid?”
“Jungkook.” Yoongi grumbled, fingers pushing his bangs from his forehead. “Some freshman. It’s not that big a deal.”
“It is for you, hyung.” He could practically feel the younger’s stare on the back of his head. “Music is extremely personal for people like us. You wouldn’t work with just anyone.”
Yoongi shrugged.
Namjoon exhaled loudly, and the couch creaked a little as his body shifted back. “Alright, I’ll drop it.” Yoongi secretly felt relieved, but then Namjoon went on. “But hyung, I think you should be careful.”
“Careful of what?” Yoongi found himself asking, even though something in his gut told him he really didn’t want to know.
“Just…” Namjoon paused, thinking over his words carefully. Yoongi hated it when he did that. “I know you, hyung. A song is never just a song. Just be careful.”
Yoongi didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t.
***************
If Yoongi had to guess, he would say that it happened sometime last fall, just after the pair had been assigned their music project.
Yoongi had been running to class- well, at least his version of running which really was just a brisk walk. He had once again overslept; the warm plushness of his bed far too tempting, and really his motivation was already weak as it is.
He hadn’t planned on stopping, lest he risk being chewed out by his Music Lit professor, again. But when he spotted Jungkook crouched down in the middle of the goddamn street like a moron, he knew he had to do something before the kid ended up smeared across the street.
As it turned out he was right to be concerned, because almost as soon as he started to change his direction towards the boy, a ridiculously lavish sports car came barreling down the street. When the car showed no intention of stopping, Yoongi’s body sprang into action almost instinctively.
He sprinted out towards the road (Seokjin would have been so proud), moving to stand over the boy still obliviously collecting his papers as Yoongi turned towards the car. He mustered up the harshest glare he could and fucking dared the car to hit him.
The sports car came to a screeching halt. Jungkook’s head had shot up at the sound- too little too late, if you asked Yoongi- but Yoongi made sure to keep his vicious gaze on the vehicle a moment longer as a silent warning. Hoseok always said his glare could freeze the sun.
When Yoongi finally looked at Jungkook, the younger was still staring up at him with wide, far too trusting eyes. The kind of eyes you would find on a small, defenseless animal.
“Hurry up and pick up your shit, kid.” Yoongi grunted out, suddenly uncomfortable under such an innocent gaze. Unworthy. He felt like if he got too close he would taint the boy’s purity or some shit.
Jungkook jolted, and nodded frantically before hurrying to finish picking up his papers. They were sheet music, Yoongi finally noticed.
When the boy held all his belongings firmly in his hands, Yoongi practically yanked him to his feet and dragged him off the road, giving the sports car one last scowl for good measure. Why any college student needed a fucking sports car to drive to class was beyond him.
When the pair was finally out of the way, the car shot forward. “You better hope I don’t run into you again, fucker!” Yoongi called after it, causing a few students passing by to start walking away a little bit faster, avoiding all eye contact. “Halfwit sports car-driving piece of shit.”
Jungkook stifled what could only be described as a giggle, but when Yoongi shot him a warning look he quickly looked away and cleared his throat, cheeks burning. Yoongi thought he looked kind of pretty. Maybe.
“Thanks.” Jungkook said quietly, nervously shifting and staring at his feet in a way that just screamed of social anxiety issues.
Yoongi rolled his eyes. “Crouching down in the middle of the street. You must be some special kind of idiot.”
But Jungkook only smiled softly, not looking too put off by Yoongi’s harsh words. “Not one of my best ideas, I’ll admit.”
The older only grumbled and looked away, because wow he didn’t know a person’s smile could look so fucking cute. Yoongi felt his cheeks flush against his will. He convinced himself that it was just from the heat. Of course, that pesky October weather.
“Were you on your way to class, Yoongi-sshi?” Jungkook asked politely, voice clear but soft as clouds. Yoongi vaguely recalled that he was a Voice major. A singer. Yoongi normally hated Voice majors; whenever he was paired with one for a project they always thought they knew shit about music and tried to boss him around.
“Hyung.” Yoongi corrected gruffly, and it was a good thing that his face was already red ‘from the heat’. “Yoongi-sshi sounds stupid. Call me hyung.” It’s no big deal, Yoongi reasoned with himself at his straightforwardness. The pair were going to be working together for the foreseeable future anyways.
Jungkook visibly gulped, and Yoongi’s eyes traced the motion of his Adam’s apple with interest. “Okay, Yoongi-hyung.” Something about that statement made Yoongi’s face burn again. “Were you on your way to class, Yoongi-hyung?”
Yoongi narrowed his eyes. “Don’t play games with me, Jungkook-ah.”
Jungkook only laughed, the sound light in Yoongi’s ears. He hasn’t personally heard Jungkook sing, but Yoongi would bet money that he was talented at it.
“Yes, I was on my way to class before I saw your ass playing hide-and-seek with speeding corvettes.” Yoongi answered. He was then suddenly reminded that he had actually been rushing to class because he was late. “And fuck I’m gonna be so late. Thanks a lot, Red Rover.”
Jungkook had the decency to look a little guilty at that, which irrationally made Yoongi feel guilty. “I’m sorry. Thank you again for helping me.”
Yoongi rolled his eyes. “It was a joke, kid. Lighten up.” It sort of hadn’t been, but he kind of hated seeing the younger boy look upset. Which come to think of it, doesn't make any sense. Yoongi normally had no problem speaking his mind with no accommodation for other people. Yoongi chose not to linger on it. “How about you? You have a class?”
Jungkook shook his head, suddenly looking shy again as he stared at his shoes. “No.” He bit at his lip. “I actually was heading to the library. I was thinking of starting on our project. Maybe.”
Yoongi raised his eyebrows. “You were going to start our song without me?”
The younger was quick to deny it, shaking his head almost in a panic as he spluttered. “N-no of course not, hyung! I was just- I mean- really I- I was just going to start brainstorming! Of course I’d run it by you next!”
Yoongi chuckled, feeling some strange sort of fondness as the younger stuttered panickily. “Relax. I’ve actually already started it.”
Jungkook was quick to glare, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. “Well why didn’t you just say that in the first place!”
“You’re an easy target.” Yoongi answered, still smiling slightly.
“I’ve noticed.” Jungkook said dryly, but there was no real anger in his tone.
Yoongi cleared his throat. “We can go over it. Together, I mean. After class?”
Jungkook doe eyes pinned Yoongi in place, happy and sparkly, if a little surprised. “Okay hyung! That would be great!”
“The café? I get done at 5."
Jungkook nodded with vigor. “Okie dokie, I’ll be there!” Yoongi tried not to think about how cute that was. “I’m really honored to be working with you, hyung. Everyone in the Music Department says you’re a genius or something.”
Yoongi smiled wryly. He was well aware of his reputation, but he hated how his passion for music was simplified by labels such as ‘genius’. He worked his ass off day and night, and his songs were simply brushed off as the product of solely natural talent over, genuine hard work. “… Or something.”
“I’ve listened to most of your songs, actually.” Jungkook admitted. “A lot of my professors use them as examples in their lectures.”
“You have?” Yoongi had known about his songs being used in lectures; his past professors had already asked his permission. He just wasn’t prepared for Jungkook of all people to have listened to them.
Jungkook nodded, expression open and excited all the sudden. “To be honest, I’m a bit of a fan. After I heard your stuff in class, I downloaded your mixtapes. My favorite song was probably Autumn Leaves, but I really like Cypher pt.3 too! That’s my roommate’s favorite too. Actually, I really like all your stuff. You rap in your own songs, right? You’re really great! Who are the other rappers? Who did you get to sing?” He asked in succession, words rushed with his excitement. The sudden change in demeaner surprised Yoongi to say the least; the kid was like a whole other person when he talked about music.
“Woah kid, slow down.” Yoongi couldn’t help but smile a little at how cute the kid was. There was something so genuine and pure about him- and about his love for music- that made something warm stir in his chest. It was an unfamiliar feeling, but not quite unpleasant. “Yeah, I rap sometimes. The others are all friends of mine.”
“Wow, that’s so cool, hyung!” Jungkook eyes suddenly looked wide and dreamy. “I would love to sing in your songs, they’re so beautiful. That singer friend of yours has a wonderful voice. Is he a Voice major?”
“Jin-hyung? Nah, he’s a Food Science major.”
“Really? Still, I would love to meet him sometime!”
“Yeah, maybe.” Not gonna happen. Knowing Jin, the eldest would instantly take a liking to Jungkook, and would then proceed to adopt the poor kid like he had done to Hoseok and Yoongi himself. Seokjin took one look at their cute faces and stuffed them under his wing, (in Yoongi’s case, unwillingly). He could already picture his hyung doing the same to cute little Jungkook.
The thought made Yoongi frown. For some reason, he didn’t want Seokjin to know about Jungkook at all.
I want you who makes eye contact with me,
I want you who wants me again.
Yoongi’s jaw dropped as the younger opened his mouth and music came out. More than that, it was his song.
Please don’t fall,
Please don’t collapse,
Jungkook’s voice was smooth and delicate and gorgeous. Yoongi didn’t know anything could sound that beautiful.
Never never fall,
Don’t go far far away.
Jungkook sighed deeply, eyes fluttering open as if he had been as entranced in his own singing as Yoongi had been. There was a moment of silence as the song lingered in Yoongi’s ears. Autumn Leaves, how fitting. It was certainly his song, and yet…
“You have a beautiful voice.”
Jungkook startled, blushing a little as if he just realized how much of a fanboy he was just being. “Thank you.” He squeaked out. The pink on his cheeks was a really lovely color.
“Well, thanks for talking to me, Yoongi-hyung. I won’t keep you any longer.” Jungkook smiled nervously, suddenly shy and soft again. “I’ll see you this evening?”
Yoongi nodded, throat suddenly dry at the sight of Jungkook’s smile. What the hell?
Jungkook started to walk in the opposite direction, glancing over his shoulder to wave and shoot back that damn smile. “Bye, hyung!”
Yoongi found himself standing there like an idiot as he watched the other walk away. There was a slight tickle in the back of his throat.
There was no conceivable way that he was making it to class on time. His professor was so going to kill him.
***************
“Yoongi-hyung!”
At the sound of Hoseok calling out his name, Yoongi quickened his pace. Hoseok, bless his soul, innocently took this as Yoongi not hearing him properly and continued to call after him. “Yoongi-hyung, we’re behind you! Yoongi-hyung! Wait up, hyung!”
“Yoongi, you little shit!” Seokjin yelled when Yoongi continued to feign ignorance, sounding annoyed. He was obviously not as easily fooled. “I know your ears work just fine, you unpleasant cloud of gloom!” If anyone but Jin had talked to him like that, Yoongi likely would have decked them.
Yoongi sighed, but stopped walking and reluctantly turned to meet the pair that was jogging to catch up. By the time they reached him, Seokjin was glaring at Yoongi for making them travel farther than was necessary and just generally being an ass, and Hoseok was panting dramatically, hands resting on his knees as he slumped over and wheezed. Typical.
“What?” Yoongi grumbled. He had been in a particularly bad mood ever since he last met with Jungkook the day before, (having had to make up some shitty excuse to leave early because at this point he was going to choke to death on these goddamn flower petals), and didn’t really feel like talking to anyone possibly ever again. Not only did his throat feel like he’d been gargling with sand and his brain throbbed because wow, was it always so fucking bright outside?, but he altogether just felt shitty. Like, apparently-I-fell-in-love-and-now-I’m-dying-how-pathetic, shitty.
Dying sucks.
“Hyung, where have you been?” Hoseok asked, still panting slightly. “We haven’t been able to contact you in like, a week! Jin-hyung was convinced you were unconscious in a ditch somewhere.”
Yoongi rolled his eyes, but Jin caught it and smacked his arm. “Excuse me for caring about your unapproachable ass!”
Hoseok ignored his oldest hyung, moving to peer closer at Yoongi’s face with a concerned expression. “Is everything alright, hyung? You look exhausted.”
Yoongi was all too aware of how sickly he’s been looking lately; he was visibly more ghastly than normal. He had already been unusually pale and skinny long before he started coughing up flora, and he was almost notorious for pulling all-nighters so the dark circles under his eyes were relatively commonplace. But even just looking at his own reflection, Yoongi could tell that he was slightly too pale and slightly too bony. While he may have passed for lithe and slender before, now he was just plain fragile looking, like some delicate little doll.
And he hated delicate. He had nearly punched Namjoon in the face for having the audacity to even suggest that comparison.
Jin leaned in closer to Yoongi, suddenly appraising him like a doctor would a patient. The eldest frowned. “Hoseok’s right, you do look more tired than usual. Which, considering your disposition on healthy life choices, is really saying something. Have you lost weight?” Jin scowled, his eyes sharp but with underlying concern. “What have I told you about eating 3 meals a day! You can’t just skip eating because you’re busy, or you would rather take a nap! And what kind of idiot doesn’t eat because they would rather take a nap?!”
“I’m fine, Jin-hyung.” Yoongi tried to reassure him, but Jin was obviously unconvinced.
“Jeez.” He exhaled with exasperation. “You act all ‘me Yoongi, me manly-man, me no need food,’ but you’re just like a child sometimes.” Jin’s voice was scolding and firm, and Yoongi was once again reminded why he was considered their little group’s stand-in mother. “That’s it, I’m coming over more often to cook you dinner! I’ll force feed you mama-bird style if I have to!”
“Please don’t.”
Seokjin only cut him off with another smack, this one hard enough to make Yoongi wince. “If you lose any more weight, you’ll disappear, Yoongi!”
“Listen to Jinnie-hyung, Yoongi-hyung.” Hoseok sing-songed, linking arms with Yoongi and side-hugging the older boy with cuddly enthusiasm. Hoseok’s always been a cuddle-bug. Something like guilt stopped Yoongi from pulling away, and Hoseok happily used this opportunity to burrow into his side like an overexcited puppy. “Your health is most important.”
How ironic. Yoongi couldn’t find words to reply, so he kept silent as Hoseok continued to carve out his designated spot into Yoongi’s side. Jin hooked his own arm with Yoongi’s free one, smiling again as he pulled them forward so they started to walk down the sidewalk.
“So,” Hoseok started casually, and Yoongi nearly groaned at the oh-so-familiar mischief laced in his tone. “Joonie mentioned that you’ve been working on a new song.”
Yoongi gulped. Namjoon, you traitor. “Yeah.
“Anddddddd, it’s not a solo project.” Hoseok continued, squeezing Yoongi’s arm tightly to hold in his excitement. How he was always so bouncy, Yoongi had no idea. “Joonie says you’re working with a partner.”
“You’re making music with another human being that isn’t Namjoon? Willingly?” Yoongi hated how genuinely incredulous Jin sounded. “You? Cooperating with other people? Who are you and what have you done with Min Yoongi?”
Yoongi rolled his eyes, and it took every ounce of self-control in his body to stop himself from blushing like an idiot. “Shut up, I’m not that bad.
Jin snorted. “You’re kidding, right? When have you ever let anyone help you with anything music related?”
“I let you guys sing my songs all the time!”
“You let us. That’s cute.” Jin’s voice was far too smug. “More like we’re the only people you know.” Yoongi wanted to point out that he was only half-right. He also picked his three friends because of their voices, but telling Jin that would only inflate his ego. “And anyways, that so doesn’t count as cooperation. You just shove us in the booth and boss us around, no teamwork necessary. So when have you ever let anyone help you with anything music-producing related?”
Yoongi opened his mouth to protest, but Jin was quick to cut him off. “And Namjoon doesn’t count!” Damn.
“The time I worked with that violinist? Jon-something?”
Jin scowled. “His name was Junho, Yoongi. And if I remember correctly, he tried to give you a suggestion about your piece and you gave him a look that had him running through campus crying and the next day he begged the professor to trade partners, so you ended up working alone.”
Yoongi had no argument. Jin had him there. Wimp. In Yoongi’s opinion, there’s nothing worse than a music major who’s half-assed about music. Junho seemed alright, but as soon as he walked in and started to complain about their assignment being too much work, Yoongi knew it wouldn’t end well. And like hell he would take shitty advice about his music from someone who dabbled in music only selectively.
Seokjin scowled, like he always did whenever Yoongi was rude and unsociable. Honestly, he was worse than Yoongi’s actual mom. “Min Yoongi, with how insufferable you are, you’re lucky that you’re apparently so good that your professors literally can’t fail you!”
“Well, what about that time hyung let me help him with the lyrics for his mixtape?” Hoseok hopped into the conversation. “That hip-hop song that Namjoonie really likes!”
“Seokie, did any of the lyrics you suggested by yourself actually make it into the song? Or did Yoongi just put the lyrics he wanted into your head, to make you feel like you contributed?”
“What?” Hoseok looked at Yoongi with wide, wounded eyes.
“Shit.” Yoongi muttered under his breath. He patted the youngest’s head awkwardly when Hoseok’s bottom lip started to quiver. “Sorry.”
“Hyung!” Hoseok cried. “All this time I thought we wrote it together! Our song! I thought we bondeddddd!”
“Thanks, Seokjin-hyung.” The oldest at least had the decency to look apologetic. Yoongi brushed his fingers through the hair at the back of Hoseok’s head comfortingly.
“So,” Seokjin cleared his throat, obviously trying to change the subject. “Whoever you got paired with must be good, if you haven’t refused to work with them. Or made them cry.”
Hoseok looked back up, interest instantly peaked, and Yoongi was once again so glad that he had the attention span of a toddler. “Who is it, hyung? Do we know them?”
“No. You don’t know him.”
“Him?” Jin pressed. “What’s his name?”
Yoongi chewed at the inside of his cheek. He knew that hiding the truth would only make his friends more suspicious, but he still didn’t want to disclose too much. “Jungkook.”
“Jungkook?” Hoseok echoed. “Never heard of him.”
“Well he’s a freshman, so…”
“A freshman? And you haven’t been constantly complaining about him being completely incompetent?” There was something about the way Seokjin said it that made Yoongi’s nerves stand on end; like he was more suspicious than surprised. “He a Music Engineering major too?”
“Voice.” Yoongi grunted out rather unwillingly.
“He sings?” Hoseok perked up with wondrous eyes. Yes, he sings. “That’s so cool! Do you know if he dances? It would be so cool if he danced! We’ve been looking for more members for the dance team, and there’s this one guy who’s really good, Jimin, who’s also a Voice major! Hey hyung, do you know if Jungkook-"
“I don’t know if he dances, Hoseok.” Yoongi’s tone was flat.
“Oh.” Hoseok suddenly looked deflated, and Yoongi suddenly felt like he had just kicked a sad puppy.
Yoongi sighed. “Maybe I’ll ask him. You know… Next time.”
Hoseok was quick to light up with another beaming smile. “Really? Thanks hyung! You know, there’s surprisingly a lot of Voice majors who are amazing dancers. Maybe I should switch majors!”
Jin laughed. “Seokie, I love you, but your singing is horrendous. Please stick to dance.”
“Hey!” Hoseok complained, chest pressed to Yoongi’s arm as he rotated to peer over him at Jin. “I’m not that bad!
“Please, the only person on this Earth who probably sings worse than you, is Namjoon.”
“Hyungggg.” Hoseok whined some more, before launching into his own rendition of Celine Dion remixed with lines from some old Justin Beiber song, (atrocious, Yoongi noted), that had people around the trio physically cringing in pain.
Yoongi was content listening to the pair bicker as they continued to walk, quietly appreciating this time with his best friends. He knew that eventually, he would have to stop seeing his friends so casually like this; eventually, his illness would become too obvious.
In a few weeks’ time, his Hanahaki will have progressed to the point where he wouldn’t be able to have moments like these; with Hoseok singing obnoxiously loud on one side, (who was now leaning his head on Yoongi’s shoulder as he crooned a particularly ear-piercing high note), and Seokjin laughing (and occasionally snorting) hysterically on his other side.
He would be weak and frail and sick, and everything his independent personality simply detested. He didn’t want to be diagnosed and sentenced to wait out his death in some dreary hospital that reeked of urine covered up by the overwhelming smell of cleaning products. He would rather die (no pun intended) than spend the rest of his measly life in a hospital bed, surrounded by doctors who can do nothing but watch as he withers away.
To avoid this possible conclusion to his life- which was unnecessarily miserable for everyone involved- Yoongi would eventually have to stop seeing people, particularly his friends. There was no way Seokjin or the others would agree to just let him die in peace.
So he remained silent, simply soaking in the lively energy of his companions with more affection than usual. When Hoseok grabbed his hand and interlaced their fingers, smiling openly but hesitantly because he knew Yoongi wasn’t big on skin ship (especially in public), Yoongi pretended not to notice and just let it happen.
The giggles that spilled from Hoseok’s mouth was well worth it.
***************
Yoongi had long since passed the Google-everything-you-can stage of his illness.
Researching the flower itself had turned up information that was superstitious at best. He didn't need to be a flower expert to guess that pink carnations symbolized love and enamor. He doubted Jungkook’s favorite flower had any meaningful significance anyways.
All he had really accomplished through his borderline-desperate research, was confirming what he had already known to be true; at this point it didn’t matter if he checked himself into a hospital, there simply was no medical cure for heartbreak.
In every recorded case of his condition that Yoongi had gotten his hands on, the patient had only two outcomes: have his/her one-sided love returned and be cured, or remain sick until eventually he/she dies a slow and agonizing death. In other words, I’m total fish food. Just brilliant.
It was a rather fast acting disease. Over the next few weeks, Yoongi could feel the tendrils of his illness spreading. It made its next appearance as a constant pounding behind his eyelids and in between his ears, then in his joints and muscles that began to ache even when he was completely still, and eventually he became so nauseous that the only thing he could manage to stomach was watered down soup. (And he was so tired of soup that he almost would rather starve.) The final stages included the deterioration of his lungs and the eventual shutting down of his heart, but at least those symptoms had yet to turn up and ruin his life.
The symptom that was really getting on Yoongi’s last nerves though, was the goddamn flower petals. Logically, he understood that this was occurring because of the carnation flowers that were rooted in his lungs, which then blossomed and had to be expelled from his body so that he could retain bodily function (a.k.a. living), but he was sick and tired of hacking up the contents of a florist shop every time he so much as thought about Jungkook.
Needless to say, the constant, violent upchucking of flowers made Yoongi’s life only that much harder. This was the most obvious symptom of his condition, and if anyone found out- if Jungkook found out- Yoongi was pretty certain that he’d die of humiliation on the spot.
Since the week prior, when his coughing had suddenly started to worsen- and oftentimes include blood- he had taken to skipping his classes and just avoiding all people in general. A cynical part of him pointed out that there was really no point in attending classes anyways, seeing as how he was scheduled to die long before his graduation would occur.
For this same reason, he had made the move to stop answering phone calls from the small pool of his friends and family. So far, he had 5 missed calls from Hoseok, 2 from Namjoon, and a whopping 13 from Seokjin- along with a mountain of texts and emails.
However, it was not unusual for Yoongi to fall off the map for days at a time, whenever he was knee deep in his song writing. During these periods, he often survived on minimal amounts of eating and sleeping, which never failed to simultaneously worry and piss of Seokjin to no end.
No doubt, Seokjin was already preparing to chew his ear out when he emerged from his apartment in the next couple of days. Hoseok was probably expecting to be there when his scolding went down, laughing his ass off until Yoongi wrestled him into the sofa just to shut him up. Namjoon would be ready to step in and stop the arguing, before quickly moving on to ask Yoongi about his latest project, earning an earful from Seokjin as well.
This was how this scenario usually went down. Yoongi simply didn't have the heart to tell his friends otherwise. His hope was that he could just die in peace without anyone making a big fuss; detaching himself from the people closest to him seemed like a reasonable price to pay.
The only thing that he couldn’t seem to let go of, was his meetings with Jungkook to work on their song, 3 days a week.
It was stupid, really. Really stupid. Yoongi would likely be dead before the assignment was due at the end of the semester. And yet, on a Tuesday afternoon the songwriter found himself walking on campus just to sit in the library with the other boy for a few short hours.
Yoongi and Jungkook were sharing headphones, looking at the screen of Yoongi’s laptop as the base track of their song played. Jungkook was leaned in towards Yoongi in order to see the screen properly, and Yoongi couldn’t help the fluctuation of his pulse at their close proximity. He even smells like fucking flowers.
Yoongi’s whole body throbbed with pain, but just being around the boy he was supposedly in love with, listening to their song, somehow made the weight in his chest feel lighter. Later, when Jungkook had casually grabbed his hand to pause his furious scribbling over sheet music, Yoongi swore that warmth shot up his hand and soothed the aching of his body and mind, if only temporarily.
“Jungkookie!” Their time together ended, when a bouncy brunette approached their table with a boxy smile that rivaled the sun and hurt Yoongi’s eyes. “There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you! Are you ready to go?”
His light brown hair was soft and fluffy, and the over-sized sweater he was wearing pooled at his hands and drowned his slender form in creamy beige fabric, draping just enough to expose the sharp contours of his neck and collarbones.
The newcomer happily bundled around Jungkook’s shoulders, snuggling his face into the crook of the boy’s neck. Jungkook, despite looking a little embarrassed, merely smiled that same, shy smile that Yoongi would never admit to positively adoring. That smile that he suddenly realized was not reserved for just him.
Wide brown eyes suddenly flitted over Yoongi’s form curiously, as if he had just noticed that Jungkook was not alone. “Hi there! I’m Taehyung, nice to meet you!”
Yoongi nodded in acknowledgement, but when he didn’t offer his own name the other didn’t seem fazed in the least.
“Oh my god, you’re so cute and squishy and smol! Like, small with an ‘o’. Smol! Just like Jiminie, but grumpier! Like a cute, grumpy kitten!” Taehyung giggled into Jungkook’s neck, and Yoongi was suddenly too envious to fully react to the newcomer calling him ‘smol’.
Jungkook rolled his eyes and ruffled the other boy’s hair affectionately, and the moment between the pair was so comfortable and intimate that something unpleasant made Yoongi’s stomach churn at the sight. Yoongi’s heart broke just a little bit deeper, because this boy was bright and warm and gorgeous and pure and everything that Yoongi was not.
Just what were you expecting? Idiot.
The singer turned to look at Yoongi apologetically, silently asking for permission. Yoongi could only school his expression and nod as nonchalantly as possible, because really it wasn’t within his rights to object. It was none of his business.
Yoongi fiddled with his notes as Jungkook packed up his belongings, the other boy babbling excitedly in his ear. But Yoongi couldn't resist stealing a glace as the other boy started to leave, only to immediately regret it at the sight of Jungkook’s cheeks coloring slightly at something that the other boy had said.
Pink. A very familiar shade of pink. Yoongi once again found himself wondering how something so lovely could also be so treacherously carcinogenic.
Taehyung suddenly turned to beam and wave over-excitedly at Yoongi. “Bye-bye, smol kitty!”
Jungkook didn’t look back.
Yoongi sat there alone at their table, staring at his laptop desktop, for about 15 minutes before he could muster up enough will to go home.
***************
That night, Yoongi couldn’t sleep.
Aside from his thoughts racing and his soul burning from the inside, the coughing became relentless. It seemed like every breath he took only made the petals in his throat more desperate to escape.
He spent hours hunched over his toilet again, his body trying to save him as petals and petals of pink burst from his lungs. These petals unlike the previous were not dewy and youthful, but rather were wilted with edges tinged with death and blood. His extremities tingled with needles of pain and exhaustion, and while he was shaking almost violently from an incomprehensible chill, the temperature of his body felt swelteringly hot.
The efforts of his body were in vain. He was definitely going to die soon.
Movement finally became possible (bearable), after he downed a handful of pain pills. He managed to lug himself off of his bathroom floor and back into his bedroom, where his laptop and music sheets were already patiently waiting for him on his desk.
He was actually dying of a broken heart, and Yoongi found it so ridiculous that he didn't even know what to do with himself.
Yoongi was careful, Yoongi was guarded. Yoongi spent most of his life pushing people away to avoid getting hurt, and yet here he was, completely submerged in all the mush and feelings just because of a boy- a boy with big eyes, a cute smile, and a pretty voice. The first (and only) time he falls in love he does so head first; with every fiber of his being, so deeply and selflessly, because at the end of the day the heart wants what it wants and no one can change its mind once its set on someone.
(Thinking back on it now, Yoongi really wasn't surprised with the outcome. Yoongi had always been bad at love, and love was a disease if you couldn't do it right.)
Yoongi spent the remainder of the night pouring over their song, polishing every last note and every last word until everything was perfect. When he was finally finished, the morning sunlight leaking through his curtains was a thousand times more destructive than usual, tearing through his retinas and searing straight into his skull where it settled into a painful throbbing.
As he finally took out his headphones and closed his laptop, Yoongi felt a bit like he had given up a piece of his soul somewhere along the way. What had once been pain had settled into numbness and the entirety of his being simply ached, but their song was done. What had once been resentment had simmered down into a quiet acceptance. Because, life isn’t fair and love isn’t free, you closeted sap.
Above all, Yoongi found himself hoping that Jungkook would like it.
***************
When Jungkook walked into his Musical Composition lecture, the professor was already making her way towards him with a brilliant smile.
“Jungkook!” The boy in question smiled politely, but the fidgeting of his hands gave away his nervousness. “Your song is simply splendid! I knew that you and Yoongi were already talented, but this has to be the best piece I’ve had turned into me by a student, ever! The lyrics, the melody, all pure genius! And with your voice singing it-”
Jungkook blinked. His professor was still talking animatedly, but as soon as her first few sentences had been processed, he had become far too confused to keep up. Something foreboding wiggled in the back of his mind.
“I’m sorry.” He interrupted his teacher abruptly, but politely. “Did Yoongi send in our song? I thought it wasn’t due for another few weeks?”
The professor’s smile dropped. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she looked at her student. “It’s not, but Yoongi emailed it to me early this morning. I thought you would know… He’s been skipping class to work on the assignment, right?”
Jungkook hesitated to answer. Truthfully, he had no idea why the other boy had been skipping class for the past few weeks. He had certainly noticed that the songwriter seemed to be sick as of recent, perhaps that was why? He had considered inquiring about it over text, but hadn’t wanted to risk upsetting the other with his intrusiveness. Yoongi had always been a rather reserved guy, and the last thing he wanted to do was annoy his hyung who he respected so much.
“Right. Sorry.” He finally answered, trying his best to keep his concern out of his voice. For whatever reason Yoongi was skipping class, Jungkook would willingly cover for him. “May I hear it?”
The smile was back on the professor’s face again, and she led him excitedly to her desk. As she clicked through her computer, the rest of the class filed in and found their seats, quickly quieting down as they sensed that something was about to start.
When the music began to play, Jungkook suddenly found himself overcome with a jumbled multitude of indistinguishable emotions. How could this be their song? Yeah, the melody was similar, but this song was, simply put, beautiful.
Every note was purposeful, indispensable, and exquisitely designed, and every bar was jam-packed with meaning and emotion, like Yoongi had literally sacrificed a part of his being to permanently reside within each count.
The whole thing just sounded like Yoongi. It was soft and gentle and lovely, everything Jungkook imagined Yoongi was underneath his prickly exterior. The music echoed in his ears like a sweet lullaby, spreading a delightful but fleeting warmth across his skin and shivers of awe down his spine.
And yet, there was something ephemerally sad about it, and Jungkook suddenly got the feeling that he was losing something very precious to him. A bit like longing, a bit like heartache, a lot like a final goodbye.
When the song was done, there was a brief silence before the class burst into a round of enthusiastic applause. The professor had turned back to him to share more enthused praise, only to stop short at seeing the tears sliding down Jungkook’s cheeks. At the realization that he was crying, Jungkook quickly wiped away the moisture with the back of his hand.
“May I see it? Please?” He asked softly, eyes watery and voice unsteady. What’s going on? There was an impending sense of wrongness in the air around him, so dense and overwhelming that breathing had been reduced to an arduous task. Every fiber of his being tingled in unprecedented panic, and Jungkook felt an impending sense of dread sink low in his gut. Something’s not right.
The professor glanced back down at her computer. Her expression was now marred with a frown, not doubt noticing the change in Jungkook’s demeanor. She turned the screen around so he could view it.
At the sight of the title of the song- or rather, the words staring at him from the top of the screen in the place where the title should have been, his knees suddenly felt weak.
I Love You. Sorry.
**************