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yoongi moves in about six months after jungkook, finding cardboard boxes stacked up across the stretch of their cramped hallway. there’s a young couple living across from him and a small family with a mom and two children further down the floor; they don’t get new residents normally, everyone already settled comfortably in their own little apartment.
jungkook’s arrival to the complex was an unexpected one, so to say. in his first year of university, he stayed at his aunt’s place and she was nice but he wanted something else – something more.
so, with the money he saved up since middle school and his parent’s allowance, he put in the deposit for an apartment closer to the school. an old building with paper thin walls and peeling paint on doorways and window sills. it was old and needed maintenance all the time, but it was his: a small place with just the right amenities for him to survive a year or two more – but probably no longer than that.
jungkook’s apartment is a mismatch of things he’s collected. gifts from his friends, things he’s picked up from different places he wasn’t meant to spend money on but like always, pretty things always seem to find themselves placed guiltily on his wooden shelves; picture frames, flower crowns, snow globes. it’s too quiet in there. so after the old gramma beside him moved out to be with her children the silence got too suffocating, a sort of smothering white noise kept in the background.
he doesn’t realize someone has moved in, the noise kept low when it begins after he’s had a shower (he’s got a handful of part-time jobs to keep him afloat); sprawled across the couch he scraped his pockets for, watching cartoons on his laptop. it’s at an obscure time when jungkook hears scuffling noises from outside, moon barely filtering in through the thin curtains that’s been shoved to the side.
shuffling to the door, jungkook opens it quietly to see boxes pushed against the wall and a few people murmuring under the breaths – workers most likely, all with towels hung around their necks. he sees silhouettes and the other door opened wide. sighing, jungkook shuts the door before flopping onto the sofa with his legs dangling over the edge. he racks his brain to remember if he’s got any kind of leftovers in the fridge to make an edible gift.
they were an average working-class family back in busan but she made enough food for almost all the tenants on their floor, small tupperware containers filled with banchan she would give out to the student three doors down and the grandpa. it’s much cheaper to cook his own food than order takeout (he’s learnt that the hard way, but the chicken was nice at least), and perhaps the times his mother made him help out in the kitchen paid off.
when jungkook first moved in, he had given a plate of plate of brownies to all his neighbours but this time he’s thinking a bit more savoury—
and jungkook sees him the next morning on the way to school; sees a peek of dark hair and sharp angles, so he thinks yes, savoury.
it doesn’t take long after he comes back from work and school. he fries up some pajeon with the scallions the owner of the supermarket he works at shoved in his arms ‘make yourself a good meal’ she insisted, so jungkook decided to do just that, but slips in a couple of bills in her hands before running away. too many mouths to feed, she had once said.
jungkook leaves a few for himself and places the rest on a plate before wrapping it with cling film. collecting his wits, he checks himself in the mirror and ruffles his hair so it looks more presentable. it doesn’t do much, his eyes look tired and his lips have lost its color.
sighing, he takes the plate and opens the door. there’s taehyung and jimin in view when jungkook steps out, the two of them giggling softly in front of their apartment door. he can’t bring himself to interrupt –
“jungkook-ah!”
he startles and turns to see jimin and taehyung staring at the food in hand. they’re wrapped up in each other and it makes him blush a little, like he was caught in the act holding a plate of food.
“what’ve you got there?” taehyung questions and points to the jeon in question. he walks closer and jungkook knows, knows, taehyung would try to steal a piece so he instantly snatches it away to hide behind his back.
“it’s for the new neighbour, isn’t it?” jimin smiles kindly before smacking taehyung on the shoulder. he lets out a pained noise before sulking out an ‘it hurts’. “i haven’t seen him yet but i didn’t hear anything last night – “
“of course you didn’t,” taehyung cuts in with a smile curved easily into a slight box, slinging an arm around jungkook's shoulders.
“– shut up. ignore him, jungkook.” jungkook mumbles a quick ‘i always do’ under his breath, “you and i are gonna stop bothering him,” jimin rolls out, cheeks red with disbelief. taehyung laughs while the other quickly unlocks the door before dragging him inside.
the walls are way, way too thin around here sometimes.
sucking in a breath, jungkook rings the doorbell and counts the beats that come after the tune, his heart racing. he’s never been that great with meeting new people and by the glimpse jungkook saw this morning he doesn’t look all that nice – not mean, but not exactly kind.
he rings again and waits for a little while. it would be rude to ring it more than thrice, so he digs around in his pockets. jungkook takes out an old receipt and scribbles out an i’m your new neighbour from 503, with the pencil that hangs from one of his pockets. he’s tempted to add a little ‘it’s not poisoned’ at the very end but decides against it. with a faint huff, jungkook places the piece of paper on top of the cling film before bending down to place it against the foot of the door.
a quiet grumble. “is there something you need?”
jungkook looks up in surprise, arching upwards when he realises he’s being addressed. he averts his eyes quickly, thoughts scattering. the new neighbor gazes at him with an unreadable expression, eyes slanted and jungkook flails a little, stammering.
“ah, no, sorry,” the guy blinks, confusion painted over his features. “i was trying to give you this—, “he points to the plate on the ground, “but you weren’t home so i… yeah.”
“you didn’t have to,” the guy’s face is still impassive, giving nothing away, not rude, but also not all inviting however. jungkook also notes the gyeongsang accent rooted in his drawl, veiled thinly only by the seoul tone and it makes his heart clench a little for home; for beaches and salty air and grandma’s food. “i went to the store to pick up a few things for dinner.” he says, not unkindly and holds up the plastic bags filled with the only thing jungkook can make out: ramyeon.
“it’s a small ‘welcome to the neighborhood gift’ – my mom would’ve yelled my ear off so it’s not a bother or anything.” he gives an awkward smile. then he adds quickly, “i’m jeon jungkook from next door, number 503?”
“min yoongi – 502,” he says, and this time yoongi half-smiles. a brief curl of the lips. a pale hand extends with groceries hanging around the wrist. “thanks. i was getting sort of sick of eating this.”
jungkook blinks. “it’s nothing much. you can leave the plate outside my door once you’re done, and don’t worry about washing it. i can do it.”
yoongi nods, fumbling a bit with the plate when he picks it up. “looks good.”
“it’s nothing, honestly,” jungkook ducks his head shyly, mumbling. “i – i have some work to do so i’m just going to...”
“ah, thanks. again.”
shuffling away with relief bubbling low in his chest, jinhee, the mom from down the hallway glances at where he and yoongi were just standing minutes before – he doesn’t really want to know what she’s already implying – raising her eyebrows as she ushers her children into their apartment. and just before she closes the door, jinhee noona mouths something like ‘you did well’ and gives jungkook a thumbs up he doesn’t quite want to understand.
a couple of days later, a plate is at his door – washed and it’s odd because there’s a couple of cookies piled on top of each other. jungkook eats it anyway.
walls are thin around the complex – paper, and jungkook hears sounds between concrete and peeling paint, curling around his body when his bed catches it and no longer are nights too quiet. yoongi himself doesn’t make noise, his presence is almost silent if not for the slow beats that floats and seeps under gaps of windows, ajar and under doors.
jungkook doesn’t know much about him but he finds out the small knick-knacks, small things that yoongi tells him on the minute-long elevator trips when their times match up – which almost never happens – and jungkook would do just the same – tell him things that don’t matter.
yoongi leaves the apartment when jungkook comes back from school, stiff half-smiles that don’t last more than a second and it’s in the small threshold between neighbors and friends. the distance between the metre walk from one door to another with plates of food left at each other’s door at four in the morning or perhaps two in the afternoon.
jungkook starts to get home earlier, before the sun vanishes and spends more time picking out his groceries. and maybe – maybe, he heads out to the fish market some weekends for the best catch, peeling off clambering ladies and the money that’s waved at his face. he takes more time in preparing food too, seasoning it carefully and tasting it multiple times; eating it, then packing some aside for yoongi.
picking up the plate wrapped in aluminium foil, a small note slips out from underneath –
had some leftovers. don’t stay up too late.
swallowing, he folds the post-it before shoving it in his pocket – god he has awful handwriting – and when jungkook heads back inside to the tepid warmth of his apartment, the foil uncovers to reveal an unopened bowl of jjajangmyeon.
jungkook’s not quite sure how long the giving and taking of plates of food has been going on. it’s partly because he feels sorry for yoongi, he supposes – bachelor food: how can you possibly live on ramyeon and boiled potatoes? it’s nice to cook for someone too, putting in a bit more effort in something and concentrating hard enough to alleviate the worries he has about bills and expenses now that he’s sort of resigned himself to this fate. yoongi looks dead-tired in the brief glimpses jungkook can see of him, dark hair accentuating the pallor and he looks like he forgets to eat sometimes too. it’s second nature to worry about these kinds of things: his mom’s always been fretful when it came to eating well and yoongi looks the exact opposite.
jungkook finds something to look forward to coming home even more and seeing that yellowed note sticking out from the bottom of plastic containers.
(he’s also going to pretend that it’s only his stomach that dips in the slightest.)
i made some food.
jungkook doesn’t know what he’s supposed to expect. for one, yoongi normally leaves take-out or some new foods he tried out from an alleyway of small restaurants (he sees the nice lady selling potatoes push extras in yoongi’s container) or the leftovers after company dinners. it tastes good all the time. so, when jungkook uncovers the lid of the tupperware, it’s –
awful.
a weird smell of mould and dirt percolates in jungkook nostrils. coughing, he closes it shut before peering at the note sheepishly once more.
jungkook tries again, prying open the container with a fork in hand. he digs through the spaghetti, twirls it around and holds his breath before taking a bite. he chews slowly, unsure of what he’s actually tasting before the flavor dies on his palette – leaving this horrid, inedible pungent in his mouth that refuses to be washed out even with multiple glasses of water and juice. he appreciates the effort, he supposes.
yoongi should never, ever cook for world peace. like how namjoon hyung should not be allowed in namjoon-hazardous areas for world peace.
he fiddles with the box throughout the night, not sure what to do with it when it’s close to being poisonous. but – but.
pressing yoongi’s doorbell, jungkook fidgets on the spot, antsy from the flickering lights in the hallway and the spaghetti he’s holding. it’s easy – supposedly, talking to yoongi should be fine.
“yeah?”
“– here,” jungkook pushes the tupperware into yoongi’s hands with a bit of a shift in his voice. “you probably made this and, i mean thank you but – “
“it’s bad?” yoongi finishes for him.
jungkook pauses. he scratches at the crown of his head, blood rushing warm in his ears. “that’s not it. i mean, it’s not bad but – but it’s not… good,” yoongi chuckles and jungkook’s eyes widen at the flash of gums. “or sort of edible but thank you. for cooking. or trying to.”
“so i guess what you’re trying to tell me is that i should stick with order-in pizza,” yoongi says dryly and somehow manages a wry smile in the midst of jungkook’s panicking.
“um, kind of—? but if there’s pineapples, i won’t be able to respect that decision,” jungkook insists, indignant before he can stop himself. yoongi sighs, muttering something about ‘the simple pleasures of life’. but honestly, pineapples?
then they’re left in a plain silence, filled only by the sounds of an old building and jungkook quickly rushes away back into his own house at the feelings bubbling beneath his chest. he fumbles out words that he hoped sounded like i think the stove is on and even after he’s made his way back into his bedroom, his heart won’t stop pounding.
.
.
.
jungkook comes back from a night shift he has at a café fifteen minutes away and in front of the door, there’s an oily, greasy box with a yellow post-it note.
no pineapple.
(and a phone number he (sort of) mulls over for hours).
[jeon jungkook] [02:15] Thanks for the pizza
[min yoongi] [02:20] go to sleep
[jeon jungkook] [02:21] Did you order half pineapple
[min yoongi] [02:21] no. why?
[jeon jungkook] [02:22] yoongi-ssi
[min yoongi] [02:23] go to bed
[jeon jungkook] [02:24] thank you i ate really well
[min yoongi] [02:27] its ok
[min yoongi] [02:30] [1] sleep well
jungkook wakes up later on wednesday mornings, allowing himself to get ready that much slower, slower than the morning rush to the station, slower than the presto of seoul.
he meets yoongi in the elevator, presses 1, and the doors shut.
it’s quiet, the old walls of the lift smelling of stale paper and peeling posters. his heartbeat is so loud, jungkook can hear it in his eardrums, pounding, unrelenting, and yoongi is so, so close. it stops on the fourth, and then the floor and people pile in, the mix of perfumes and colognes beginning to mask the must. and oh my god, he doesn’t even realize he’s pressed against yoongi’s side until light shampoo and musk begins to permeate his nostrils, not overly sharp but enough to clear it.
standing against him, jungkook’s realizes he’s actually taller than yoongi, the other needing to crane his neck to look at him properly. yoongi murmurs something softly, barely anything more than a whisper. “morning.”
“good morning,” jungkook answers quietly, voice uneven, teeth gnawing down on his bottom lip. he runs through the possible anything-else’s he can give: thanks for the food, don’t stay up too late too, the music sounds nice and before he can stupidly stop himself – it tumbles out of his mouth in a rushed, incoherent mumble,
“do you want to come over for dinner?”
what – like, shit. that didn’t really come from him, did it?
jungkook flusters, flails and the elevator dings to 1, doors parting into the lobby. he stares resolutely in the distance, determined not to glance at yoongi when spill out into the foyer. his breath is caught in his throat, air damp with the cold when the doors of the complex open and he’s left shuffling over – shivering almost – with his coat, thin against the winter chill. yoongi’s silent, stepping to the same stride as jungkook when they exit the building.
“yoongi-ssi,” jungkook starts then stops, looking for any sort of change in expression.
“hyung is fine.”
“– don’t worry about – “he chokes a bit, “dinner or what i said, if you’re busy. i don’t want to keep you and i know you have other things to do so it’s alright… if you don’t come or whatever.”
the trees are still wet with the morning dew, droplets sliding off the crackling leaves into jungkook’s hair and yoongi’s beanie. it’s a short walk and he doesn’t even realize he’s nearly at the station until he sees the sweeping entrance, the residual warmth of the central heater barely lingering outside.
“—and you’re gonna be late for the train, kid,” yoongi drawls slowly. “dinner is fine. whenever you’re free.”
jungkook splutters because he was not expecting that at all; cheeks crimson – dazed as yoongi continues on ahead. he takes a breather before quickly catching up to yoongi, his face awash with red and it is probably, not from the cold. probably.
the thing is, jungkook normally doesn’t have guests over. sure, taehyung or jimin might come over – mostly together or sometimes separate when they invite themselves in without permission – but other than that, jungkook’s not that good with accommodating people in his little abode.
“be more excited!” taehyung crows, then stares at jungkook with his head buried in his arms. “you’re going to have a guest, isn’t this, like, the first time?”
“no,” jungkook says, “it’s not wonderful. and yes, it is so can you leave already?”
taehyung doesn’t make any move to follow his request. he twitters around jungkook, giving him these looks every so often before continuing on with his own thing – no jimin to keep him company until later on in the evening. jungkook’s indignant on denying that he was rattled by the events of the past six months, firm on pushing it aside in his head.
it’s nothing. really – sincerely.
jungkook’s preparing egg rolls when taehyung takes his seat on the sofa, fingers wiggling and a weird smile painted on his face. “jungkookie, you better leave us some leftovers tomorrow morning. i’ll ask the hyung next door to give m – “
“what,” jungkook spits, retracts mortified, before going back to folding the eggs. taehyung snorts gracelessly before stuffing a piece of kimchi in his mouth. “i’ll leave you some.”
sighing when taehyung decides to announce his stay, jungkook prepares the rest of the foods for dinner with a nervous flair, accidentally dumping on a whole lot of salt and soy sauce. the ticks on the clock above a shelf are loud, resonate even among the roaring stove and each minute, jungkook grows a little more anxious.
“what’s the occasion, though?”
jungkook clears his throat, wiping his hands on the front of his jeans and turns away to the stovetop. “nothing,” he mumbles and busies himself with dumping the pans into the sink.
“nothing,” taehyung echoes flatly. “nothing means something – what is it?”
ignoring the query, he looks at the time and quickly ushers taehyung onto the couch before setting the table. it’s filled with small plates of food and there’s two rice bowls set up; a spread jungkook’s proud of when he walks back to admire the work.
“okay, well now i know that’s not for me.”
jungkook eyes him dully before widening his eyes really big, “can you please go now, hyung?” and he knows it works all the time because it’s enough to make jimin clean his vacant apartment when he’s goes down to busan during summer vacation.
he sees taehyung’s resolve crumble, eyes softening at the corners. “you know what? just this once – i swear to god jungkook, i’ll come back as your seoul dad and see how the guy next door is treating you—“
“you’re from daegu,” jungkook quips, face warm. he flips the meat over while the other makes a noise of vague approval. making a face, taehyung stomps out the apartment with finality before sending him an angry text demanding to size up yoongi ten minutes after.
.
“it’s good.”
“is it?” jungkook answers unsurely, a little hopeful. far too hopeful on fact. “i don’t know what you like to eat so i only cooked the foods that i’m only kinda okay at making.”
“i’m serious, it’s good,” yoongi nods between bites. he looks delicately ravenous, taking silent bites that make jungkook grin dumbly behind his chopsticks. jungkook chews slowly, cheeks warming up to the tips of his ears when he places a piece of meat in yoongi’s bowl.
“i study dance,” jungkook blurts to fill in the space, fidgeting with his spoon when it becomes all too quiet. “down at s-university.”
“ah, i went there—“ his eyes widen a tad bit. “the department’s pretty good with managing the arts stuff. i have a friend who used to study dance there too,” yoongi provides with a slight arch to his brow and jungkook sinks lower in his seat. “his name’s jung hoseok and apparently, he’s a pretty big deal but i swear to god he’s just an annoying little — “
“what,” jungkook whispers faintly, “the jung hoseok?”
“– shit who pesters around me all the time and asks about you, yes,” he finishes, and places kimchi on jungkook’s spoon. jungkook blinks owlishly, stares down at the spoon. “i believe that’s the jung hoseok you’re talking about.”
“he’s like, a legend in dance there!” jungkook exclaims a little too loudly and yoongi snickers, scooping a large spoonful of rice into his mouth. “hyung – that’s amazing.”
“is it?”
he swallows, face hot and pushes his food around with his chopsticks – maybe when yoongi doesn’t oppose the word. “the fluidity hoseok-sunbae has when he dances is what i want to have by my last year. i’m trying right now but i don’t have enough time for practice – work and other stuff,” yoongi nods like he understands, finishing off the last of some dishes but leaving enough for jungkook. “my form hasn’t been great the past couple of weeks so it’s a little difficult.”
“you’ll be able to do it,” yoongi imparts with so much truth behind his words. jungkook pauses, spooning the hot soup in his mouth. he averts his eyes, hands jittery. “that school in itself is difficult to get into so they must’ve saw some kind of potential to let you in or something.”
oh.
“thank you,” he mumbles; wants to say, ‘for saying that’. yoongi offers him a sort of soft smile that makes something flutter near his ribs (what, what, what—).
jungkook eats his dish clean, all the attention mildly embarrassing. “so what do you do then?”
“i make music.”
“i sorta guessed that,” jungkook replies lightly. he’s slept to the sound of his music – comforting even with the pulsing beats. briefly, he sees yoongi’s eyes light up with a slight spark at the mention. he guesses that yoongi breathes music – forgets to eat, locks himself up in his apartment for days on end to complete something from start to finish. it’s also probably the reason why yoongi looks awfully sick sometimes, and has jungkook rushing to call his mom up to ask about soup.
yoongi stacks the plates up and peers at him before asking wryly, “you heard?”
jungkook nods viciously. “the walls are thin around here and it’s like an accompaniment – your music, i mean. living alone is lonely sometimes so it helps sometimes.”
“ah,” yoongi smiles and it’s sort of boyish – bashful where it’s careful in the slightest way. no longer so guarded and jungkook’s not used to that so his breath hitches and his stomach churns in a way that makes him nervous—feels like falling. “well i hope you think it’s good since you’ve been hearing it so often.”
“it is,” he mutters softly. dusk splinters onto the windows and pools into the darkened area of the living room, sun having mostly gone down. there’s only a single lightbulb dimly lit above the table. “you’re good at what you do.”
yoongi’s silent for a while, scratching at the back of his neck. this time he flushes. “i also kinda rap but work’s taken up the time i used to have doing that. i miss doing things on my own, i guess.”
“have i heard you anywhere?” jungkook asks carefully. he’s sure he might’ve recognized the familiar rasp in his voice somewhere but he can’t quite put a finger on it. rap is good to listen to when he walks back home from the station at two in the morning, the syllables spat out matching the pace he has to get back to the apartment as soon as possible.
yoongi hums, “you might’ve, it’s been a while since i released something. i go by the name agust d but there’s a few other here and th — “
“oh,” jungkook breathes out. he shudders, going numb when yoongi mouth upturns. “you’re – shit – uh, that’s, um, yeah that’s cool.”
“are you a fan?” yoongi asks dryly, sceptical almost and slightly, slightly hopeful. and all jungkook can think about is the one who croons lowly at his ear through headphones at two am, is yoongi of all people. the yoongi who is absolutely, terrifyingly awful at cooking and the same neighbour next door who leaves fried chicken at his doorstep in the most obscure hours.
his throat dries. “holy shit.”
“i guess you’ll be one of the first people i go to for my next mixtape,” yoongi rouses with a slight smirk and collects the plates from the table.
“you wouldn’t mind that, huh?” he asks like it’d be a fucking question. ”you’re next door for a while, i hope.”
“sure,” jungkook murmurs weakly. “—i’ll be there for a bit. probably a lot longer than a bit.”
“mhm. good,” yoongi hums lowly, offhand, and wipes his hands on the front of his jeans. “do you need help with any of the washing?”
[park jimin] [12:50AM] [1] he’s got u on read tae
there’s a brief knock on his door when jungkook puts his phone down, unexpected when it’s one of those quiet nights that jungkook spends doing nothing. earphones are already jammed into his ears and he sees the little message notifications pop up on the top of his screen while he taps over the freckles on candy crush. shuffling to the door, he takes a look through the peep-hole, instantly stumbling over his feet and pulling out the buds in his ears. squeaking, jungkook trips on one of the spare slippers he has lined at the entrance of his apartment before pushing the door open.
“i heard you were up.” yoongi scratches his nape, neck flushed with light pink.
jungkook’s face is red, the heater suddenly turned up too high. “yeah, i was just… studying.”
“—with that?” he points to the phone with colored icons shadowed across his hands. jungkook stuffs it in his pocket, neck prickling uncomfortably while he defends in vain excuses.
“i was having a break,” he lies, and wrings his hands together uneasily when yoongi gives a boneless chuckle. the sort of chuckle echoed with a nervous lilt, although it’s hardly noticeable. “is there anything you need? i’ve got some food —”
yoongi holds out a plastic container wordlessly. “skewers,” he starts and jungkook nods slowly, confused, eyebrows furrowed when yoongi shoves it into his arms. he makes a small noise, flustered when yoongi steadies his arms.
jungkook looks briefly between the box and yoongi.
“i heard you liked them,” he continues, awkward. “i bought it freshly grilled from the place down there.”
“i do, but – “the fragrance wafts upwards and jungkook feels himself crave for a snack like so at this time of night. he glances sheepishly at the elder after taking a look inside and spots the familiar marinade. and strangely, yoongi somehow has a sort of intuition on the foods he seems to like to eat often, but isn't always able to afford. “you didn’t have to – i mean, thanks, thank you. i’ll eat it well.”
he closes the door when yoongi nods, fingers still clutching the container tightly. he sees the nervous swallow but doesn't comment. jungkook moves to the small kitchenette and prepares to wrap the skewers in foil when the doorbell sounds again, his phone also buzzing violently in his jacket pocket.
“hey,” yoongi sounds a bit breathless, light pink dusted on his cheeks that don’t fade even under the light. his voice is low and his shoulders are slumped, posture hunched over the doorway and jungkook thinks he might look a little – embarrassed. “that actually wasn’t why i came over.”
jungkook shuffles around in his woollen socks absently, not looking at the other – sort of expectant and far too hopeful. for whatever, he's not quite sure.
“let’s go out to grill skewers. together. one day.”
“what?”
“you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” yoongi informs and looks like he’s about to fold in half if he slumps over even more. jungkook notes the gyeongsang accent that has grown thicker in his speech too. “—and sorry if i’m scaring you right now. i’m not all here, i’m tired and you’re just – really, really fucking cute.”
what.
“going out?” jungkook echoes. he probably heard it wrong. he probably failed to hear anything correctly. jungkook flattens his palms against his thighs. “just – just going out,” breathes, “for food, yeah?”
“yeah, that,” yoongi answers. and adds quickly, motioning between them, “it could be – it could be a date if you want it to be—if you’re okay with it, i mean.” and jungkook sees the corner of his mouth quirk easily, neck bright red, “then yeah, a date. for food.”