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The wind carries a biting cold. He hadn’t noticed that on the ground, but up here, exposed to the elements as he is, he shivers. There’s not a single sound from behind him, not the rustle of fabric or of gravel underfoot, not even a breath. Everyone is silent and fearful with anticipation, watching, waiting. They’re waiting for him, he knows that.
So, he takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and jumps.
He expected it to maybe feel like flying, but it doesn’t. It feels like falling, like falling fast, the icy wind whipping his clothes around his frame and scorching at his fingers. The strange sensation only lasts a second or two, not enough time for him to cry out, before his body hits a wide something, bouncing back into the air once, twice more.
When he settles, his fingers immediately knot in the surface beneath him. It’s a net, a strong one at that, elasticated but sturdy enough to cradle his falling body. Overhead, he can see daylight through a large hole in the ceiling, and high above that, the ledge from which he jumped, several heads poking over the edge.
The net beneath him leans suddenly to one side and he rolls, straight into a waiting pair of arms. Confused, he rights himself, looking up into a pale face, a strange combination of round and sharp edges, with shrewd eyes and pink, downturned lips.
The face frowns, those dark eyes scanning him, taking in his red, threadbare sweater, his soft, mossy green slacks. “What, you followed the wrong crowd or something?” the person says in a deep, rumbling voice.
“No,” he replies, affronted. “I chose to come here.”
The person helps him down from the net – or rather, the person takes a firm, surprisingly strong hold of his upper body and sets him firmly on solid ground – before fixing him with a searching look.
“What’s your name?”
He draws himself up to his full height before he replies. “I’m Jungkook.”
The person turns around, taking a deep breath. “First jumper, Jungkook!” he shouts, and voices from within the shadows all around them cheer, repeating the name like a war cry. It makes Jungkook’s heart swell with pride and he grins blindly into the darkness.
He turns back to the person in front of him, those large, strong hands finally falling away from his arms. He wants to ask the person’s name, but is quickly distracted by the sound of two voices wailing and screeching on their way down from the rooftop.
Jungkook turns just in time to see two boys, one dressed in black and white and the other in blue, crashing into the net, then into the air, then each other, then the net once more.
“That was a bad idea,” the one in black and white groans, scrambling to find the edge of the net and clamping one arm around his ribcage. “Why did you let us do that? Aren’t you meant to be clever?”
“Fear overrides the frontal lobe, prohibiting our ability to make rational decisions, so I’ll thank you to get off my back,” the other replies, tumbling ungracefully onto the floor with a yelp.
The two newcomers spot him, no doubt taking in his comfortable, warm-coloured clothing, and immediately move to greet him. The dark-eyed, strangely strong individual that helped Jungkook down from the net has, in the time Jungkook was watching the others’ descent, disappeared into the darkness.
“Hello!” The boy in black and white speaks first, his eyes curving into crescents as he smiles widely. He has a friendly sort of face, open and honest in the way that only Candor faces can be, and his smile seems to illuminate the strange, dark space they stand in. “I’m Jimin. Candor transfer. Pleased to meet you.”
Jungkook shakes his hand politely, bowing his head and smiling.
“I’m Taehyung. Erudite. You’re Amity – you don’t get many Amity-Dauntless transfers,” the boy in blue says, stepping forwards to shake Jungkook’s hand as well. Jungkook supresses a smile; Erudite always did enjoy telling you things you already know. “You must be brave.”
“He was the first jumper, of course he’s brave,” Jimin frowns, whacking Taehyung on the arm. He turns back to Jungkook, friendly smile back in place. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Jungkook. Do you guys know each other?”
The two boys exchange a confused look. “No, we just met. Why?” Taehyung asks, frowning.
Jungkook grins, shrugging. “No reason.”
They wait for the other initiates to take the rather literal plunge, one by one, until a small crowd has gathered in the pool of light beside the net. Everyone chatters nervously amongst themselves, speaking in awed, hushed tones as they stare around the dark, cavernous space.
Eventually, someone steps forward, a dark-haired girl with a row of piercings down the bridge of her nose and a butterfly tattoo spanning her throat, and whistles loudly to get everyone’s attention.
“Dauntless-born, follow me,” she calls lazily, and around two-thirds of the crowd shift to follow her out of the room, a mass of dark-clad bodies disappearing down an unlit corridor.
The person that pulled Jungkook from the net reappears, somehow seeming underwhelming when compared to the other Dauntless leader, the girl with the nose piercings. His hair is inky black and undercut, his clothes are dark and tight-fitting, but his pale skin is unmarked, as far as Jungkook can see.
“Transfers, you’re with me,” the man says quietly, though Jungkook hears him loud and clear. He has the sort of presence that commands respect and radiates authority. “My name is Yoongi. I’ll be overseeing your training for the coming weeks. After me, now.”
With that, he turns, clearly expecting the gaggle of mismatched teenagers to follow him. As they move after him, down another dark corridor, Jungkook feels a hand at his elbow.
“That guy, I know him.” It’s Taehyung’s voice, Jungkook knows that much, though he can’t make out the boy’s face. At his other side, Jungkook feels what must be Jimin, leaning in to listen. “He’s Erudite-born. Transferred a few years ago now. There was a huge scandal within my faction when he left.”
“Why?” Jungkook hisses in response, his gaze flickering up to the back of Yoongi’s head some distance away.
“Uh – maybe it’s better to tell you another time. He might hear.”
“Right,” Jungkook nods. Yoongi certainly doesn’t seem the sort you’d want to cross, especially not on the first day, especially not when he’s clearly some kind of leader, so Jungkook lets it drop. All the same, he watches Yoongi closely as he leads the way ahead, wondering what his reasons were for joining Dauntless.
♡ ♡ ♡
Jungkook doesn’t know how much later it is when he finally heads for dinner, crowding into the large communal hall affectionately known as the Pit here in Dauntless. The day has been a blur, from jumping off the roof, to touring the underground Dauntless complex, to burning his old Amity belongings. There’s hardly any sunlight down here, either, so Jungkook has no idea what time of day it is. On the Amity farms, the sun was overhead from dawn until dusk, reliable, warming, constant. Down here, it’s colder, tougher, isolated.
That isn’t necessarily a bad thing.
Jimin and Taehyung stick firmly to his sides, clutching their trays and peering around uncomfortably. None of the transfers look at home, even in their new Dauntless-issued gear. Jungkook can hear the leather of Jimin’s jacket squeaking every time he moves and the heavy sound of Taehyung’s boots as he shifts from one foot to the other. The alien materials feel harsh against his skin and he thinks the black makes him look unapproachable. Perhaps that’s the idea.
“Come on, there’s no other space,” Jimin mumbles, nudging Jungkook and nodding towards a table in the far corner, empty other than a familiar mop of glossy black hair. They head over together, sitting down quietly as though there’s a chance Yoongi won’t notice their arrival, though he doesn’t pay them any heed.
Jungkook feels a little uncomfortable as he tucks into dinner. The food is different to what he ate on the Amity farms, more meat than he’s used to and much fewer vegetables, but he doesn’t complain. He’s known these people for less than twelve hours, he isn’t about to act like a total brat by whingeing about the menu.
“For an Amity, you’re awfully quiet, Jungkookie,” Jimin says suddenly, eyeing Jungkook sternly over his burger patty. “I’ve never met a shy Amity before.”
“I’m obviously not a very good Amity, else I wouldn’t have transferred.”
For a moment, Jungkook is worried he’s spoken out of line, but Jimin and Taehyung laugh appreciatively.
“Point taken,” Jimin grins.
“You, on the other hand, are exactly like every other Candor I’ve ever met,” Taehyung says sagely, pointing a fry at Jimin. “Voicing every inane thought as though it’ll benefit the population to hear it.”
Jimin scoffs, pretending to be outraged. “I’d rather be open and honest with my opinions than keep them all bottled up and judge everybody from behind my ivory bookcase!”
“Ivory bookcase?” Jungkook quirks an eyebrow.
“Oh, shut up Jungkookie, you know what I mean.”
“Erudite doesn’t need opinions because Erudite has the facts,” Taehyung counters, his eyes sparkling. Jungkook rolls his eyes. Factions always did love bickering at get-togethers.
“None of those things matter anymore.”
A deep voice from beside Jungkook makes him jump and he spins in his seat. Yoongi isn’t looking at him, at any of them, just stares into the contents of his glass, but nobody else could have spoken. Jungkook turns back, exchanging a worried glance with Taehyung.
“You left your factions behind. You’ll never go back. You need to forget how you used to live in order to become Dauntless.”
It’s sound advice, and Jungkook knows it makes sense, but he still feels a little intimidated all the same. More than that, he feels curious, especially taking into account what Taehyung told him about Yoongi only a few hours ago.
Maybe it’s that curiosity that, against his better judgment, drives him to speak.
“Didn’t you struggle to forget your old faction when you transferred?” he asks.
Yoongi seems to freeze in his seat, still staring down at his plate. Taehyung is jabbing Jungkook persistently in the ribs but he barely notices, smacking him away without looking. He continues to watch Yoongi, wondering what he’s thinking, wondering if perhaps he’s readying an answer –
“Are you serious?” Yoongi asks, turning to fix those dark eyes on Jungkook. His expression is unreadable.
“Uh – yeah.”
Yoongi’s shoulders shake as though he’s laughing, but he isn’t, not at all. His face hardens and Jungkook can almost feel a chill rolling off the leader’s body in waves. “What makes you think you can talk to me?”
Jimin and Taehyung both lean over their plates, suddenly very interested in the texture of their dinner. Yoongi glares at Jungkook for one moment more, a hard, challenging gaze, before he turns back to his dinner.
Jungkook’s insides seem to have turned to ice. He’s embarrassed at having been spoken to in such a way, as though he’s inferior, and a little hurt that he’s been so blatantly snubbed on his first day, but more than that, he finds that he’s angry. Why should Yoongi get to speak to Jungkook that way? The Amity leaders always treated Jungkook with kindness and respect. He doesn’t see what makes Yoongi so special.
Feeling a sudden thrill of either madness or genius, Jungkook shrugs enthusiastically. “Oh, it must be because you’re so approachable.”
Jimin snorts into his fries, quickly hiding his face in his coat. Taehyung drops his fork and has to dive under the table to retrieve it, making as much noise as he possibly can. Yoongi doesn’t look up, his tongue digging into his cheek, and Jungkook, feeling very pleased with himself, focuses once more on his plate.
“Careful.”
The word is murmured, so quietly that Jimin and Taehyung can’t possibly have heard it, but Jungkook does. It makes him shiver, just for a moment, but before he can react, Yoongi pushes his plate away and leaves the table.
Once he’s out of earshot, Jimin and Taehyung lean towards Jungkook, still snickering and wide-eyed. “What the hell was that?” Taehyung hisses, giggling behind his fingers.
“You’ve got a death wish,” Jimin says, a little pale with shock but still grinning.
Jungkook flushes from the attention but he finds that he quite likes it, smiling along with his new friends. “I just don’t think he should act like he’s better than us, that’s all,” Jungkook shrugs. “I guess Taehyung isn’t the only one from an ivory tower, huh?”
“I think Jiminie called it an ivory bookcase, Kook-ah,” Taehyung amends idly, and then seems to realise what Jungkook just said. He whacks Jungkook around the back of the head, scowling. “Hey!”
♡ ♡ ♡
It quickly becomes evident that Jungkook isn’t naturally suited for Dauntless. He’s brave, sure, but he kind of altogether sucks at the physical side of training. Jimin isn’t bad, claiming that he used to enjoy dancing as a hobby and really, fighting is just a kind of choreography. Taehyung is frighteningly good, having read pretty much every book there is on self-defence and memorised all common points of weakness. Jungkook, on the other hand, comes from the faction of kindness. Where the hell is he supposed to have picked up a knack for brawling?
“Just keep practicing, Jungkookie, you’ll get there!” Jimin calls encouragingly, waving from the other side of the high-ceilinged practice hall, having just knocked out his opponent. Jungkook does his best to smile back, but it’s difficult when he’s one of the only initiates still practicing on punch bags.
He looks to his left, where a weedy Abnegation girl some distance away is busy throwing her whole weight behind blows that barely budge the hanging sand bags. On his right, stands a Dauntless-born with glasses like milk bottles, who seems to be having real problems actually hitting his target.
Jungkook sighs. Maybe he isn’t cut out for Dauntless life. He thought maybe he would be, but he just feels in over his head. Clearly, it isn’t common for Amity-born to transfer to Dauntless for a reason.
“Why have you stopped?”
Jungkook’s head snaps up, eyeing Yoongi nervously as the leader approaches. He’s feeling crappy enough without being told how useless he is, especially when his friends have already advanced so far ahead of him. Jungkook keeps quiet, pushing his lips together and dropping his gaze as he braces for a scolding.
He hears Yoongi sigh, long and low. “I wouldn’t have expected you to progress so slowly, first jumper,” Yoongi says, and though Jungkook doesn’t look up, he can feel the way the leader’s disdainful gaze rakes over him from head to toe. “Go on, show me your form.”
Jungkook turns back to the punch bag, kind of hoping the ground will do him a favour and swallow him whole so that he doesn’t have to humiliate himself in front of probably the most intimidating man in the room. He feels ridiculous as he lifts his fist, and he knows he must look probably doubly ridiculous as he throws his weight forwards, his knuckles smacking into the leather with a dull thud. It swings on the rope but it was by no means a good punch, and judging from Yoongi’s sigh, the leader would agree.
“You need more confidence in yourself, Jungkook.” Yoongi steps closer, steadying the bag with one large hand. “You’re strong from working the fields, and you’re naturally quite quick. You just lack technique, and that’s the easiest thing to remedy.”
Jungkook glances up, his shoulders sagging. “I’m in the bottom three. I don’t belong here.”
“I don’t believe that and neither do you,” Yoongi replies, unaffected. He steps out of Jungkook’s sight, and after a moment, Jungkook feels hands on his shoulders, gently moving him to stand side-on to the punching bag. “Stand properly. Feet apart, knees relaxed, arms up.”
Jungkook tries his best to do what he’s told, lifting his fists up to his chest. Yoongi tuts behind him and kicks his feet apart a little wider. “Like this?” Jungkook asks, trying to look over his shoulder.
“Eyes on the target,” Yoongi says sharply. “And get your thumbs out of your fists, kid. Do you want a broken hand?”
Jungkook scowls but aims it at the punching bag as directed, adjusting his grip. “What now?”
“You want to pivot your hips with your punch,” Yoongi says lowly, and Jungkook feels the leader’s hand wrap around his hip. He does his best not to tense up – Yoongi is just trying to help him, that’s all – but he barely manages to supress a shiver at the sensation. “Here. Extra power behind your hits. Try again.”
He does his best, punching the bag a few times until Yoongi moves on, apparently mollified. It doesn’t really feel any better, but at the end of practice, he gets a nod of approval and a rough pat on the back from one of the other leaders, a tall, muscled man called Namjoon.
“Maybe you’ll be sparring with us tomorrow, Kook-ah,” Taehyung says brightly, throwing a sweaty arm over Jungkook’s shoulders. “The leaders seemed happier with you today.”
“Only because Yoongi helped me,” Jungkook grumbles. He doesn’t feel very motivated by his progress. If he only advances because somebody has given him a step-by-step guide on how not to suck, is he really advancing at all? Is he going to need someone to hold his hand through the entire initiation?
“You’ll pick it up in no time.” Jimin nudges Jungkook’s arm reassuringly, somehow still full of energy. “What did Yoongi tell you, anyway?”
“He said I’m naturally strong and quick, I just lack technique. He showed me the right stance and stuff. I guess it worked a little.”
“He creeps me out,” Taehyung mumbles, shuddering. “He’s just so serious all the time. I’d have been too scared to let him help me.”
“Oh, me too, I feel like he wants to murder me every time he looks at me,” Jimin replies.
Jungkook tilts his head to the side, thinking. He wouldn’t call Yoongi scary; a little stern, perhaps, kind of distant, but not scary. He could probably use a lesson or two in socialising, but he really had helped Jungkook earlier, and he certainly didn’t have to. “He isn’t so bad,” Jungkook muses idly.
“Got a little crush, Jungkookie?” Taehyung teases, his arm tightening around Jungkook’s shoulder.
Jungkook blushes at once, trying to push Taehyung off. “Shut up.”
“You do! How sweet, soft little Amity baby getting a crush on his teacher –”
“Yoongi’s your type, huh? Short, dark and intimidating?”
“I said shut up!”
♡ ♡ ♡
The first two weeks of their initiation are so busy that Jungkook forgets almost everything he’d learned before Dauntless. The farms seem so far away, so long ago, and it’s been so long since he left the city that he thinks he might have forgotten the smell of earth. He’s doing better in training now, having joined Jimin and Taehyung in sparring with the rest of the initiates; he even managed to knock Taehyung onto his behind a couple of days ago, although it had been a close match. Most nights, he eats dinner with his friends, forces himself to shower and bathe the day’s blood and sweat away, and then passes out over his bunk.
That’s why he doesn’t remember one of the first conversations he ever had with Jimin and Taehyung until almost three weeks have passed. His friends are sprawled over Taehyung’s bunk beside his own, happily arguing about Candor and Erudite values, as always, when something jogs Jungkook’s memory, causing him to sit bolt upright.
“Hyung, didn’t you say that there had been a huge scandal when Yoongi left Erudite?” Jungkook asks, forgetting his exhaustion.
Taehyung blinks confusedly, and then frowns. “Oh yeah, did I never tell you about it?”
“Obviously not, dipshit,” Jimin retorts, shoving Taehyung. “What happened?”
“Well, I don’t really remember everything, it was ages ago,” he shrugs, scratching at the corner of his mouth. “His dad was one of our leaders. When Yoongi chose Dauntless, it was a huge shock – I mean, the kids of leaders hardly ever transfer, if only for their parents – but after he dripped his blood onto the coals, the whole crowd gasped, and he turned around and – just kind of lost it.”
“’Lost it’?” Jungkook pushes.
“Yeah, he started going on about how Erudite is corrupt, how everybody should be ashamed of themselves. His dad took it really hard. He resigned the next day.”
“Why did Yoongi think Erudite is corrupt?” Jimin frowns.
“I can’t remember,” Taehyung shrugs again. “The whole thing was swept under the rug, like nobody should talk about it ever again.”
Jungkook settles back down onto his bunk, utterly unsatisfied by Taehyung’s story. He finds it difficult to imagine Yoongi shouting at a crowd of people; Yoongi has anger in him, sure, but he doesn’t seem particularly passionate enough to yell. Perhaps the leader has changed since joining Dauntless. He certainly seems to do well here, having climbed the ranks to leadership in just a couple of years.
Jungkook sighs, squirming beneath his sheets and rolling onto his side, his back to his friends. For some reason, he finds that he’s somewhat irritated with himself for being so interested in Yoongi. What does it matter if his leader is a grumpy Erudite-born with a scandalous past? Jungkook isn’t here to dig up the history of everybody he meets; he’s here to build his own future. And he knows he’d be annoyed if somebody tried to uncover his own past.
He decides then and there to give it a rest. He needs to focus on passing initiation. Nothing else matters.
♡ ♡ ♡
After almost a month in the Dauntless headquarters, Jungkook thinks he’s just about getting used to their protein-heavy meals, shovelling the best part of a chicken taco into his mouth. He knows he’s getting stronger, can see it in his own reflection, the gradual sharpening of his jawline and the broadening of his shoulders. Not to mention, he had some real difficulty fitting into the black jeans he’d bought right after arriving; his thigh muscles seem to have tripled in size. Not that he minds. He rather likes it.
“Jungkook-ah, you game?” Jimin asks, his mouth full of shredded chicken, jerking Jungkook from his daze.
“Uh, for what?”
Taehyung rolls his eyes. “We’re going to get tattoos after dinner. Our own mini-initiation. You want to come?”
Jungkook tries to imagine himself getting inked in some dark corner of the underground complex, a faceless individual dragging a needle over his skin, permanently marking him with something he’ll probably regret in a couple of months. “Yeah, probably not,” he replies, wrinkling his nose.
“You don’t have to get anything! Please come along? Jimin will need someone to hold his hand.”
“I will not!”
“Alright, alright, I’ll come.”
The tattoo parlour isn’t much better than Jungkook had imagined. It’s dimly-lit, overhead neon lights casting a ghostly glow over the rooms below and glinting off the glass squares hanging on the walls, the ones bearing some suggested tattoo designs. Some of them are quite pretty, Jungkook has to admit, not all barbed wire and curse words like he’d originally thought. He finds himself drawn to a smattering of floral designs, intricate roses and bright sunflowers covering the wall.
“What do you think?” Jimin bounds up behind him, a glass square clutched in his arms. He holds it out triumphantly for Jungkook to examine. It seems to be a traditional Japanese design, a koi carp leaping through the water, cherry blossom petals peppering the surface.
“It’s really nice, hyung,” Jungkook replies, lifting a finger to trace over the drawing on the glass. “Where would you get it?”
“I think on my bicep,” he grins excitedly. “Taehyung reckons that’ll hurt more but I don’t care.”
Something in Jimin’s expression suggests he does care a little bit, but Jungkook just smiles, clapping Jimin on the shoulder. “A true Dauntless,” he says, before Jimin hurries off to get his tattoo.
He spots Taehyung on the opposite side of the room, waiting patiently to enter one of the smaller rooms in the store as a red-haired lady beside him rifles through a drawer of sterilised needles. Taehyung catches his eye and grins widely, holding up a glass square bearing a stalking tiger, its stripes a glowing, flaming azure. Jungkook holds two thumbs up and nods encouragingly, and then watches as Taehyung disappears behind a curtain, leaving him alone.
Jungkook turns back to the designs on the wall and scans them idly. He isn’t sure why he feels so strongly about not getting a tattoo. The designs are beautiful, there’s no denying that, and after a month of training to be Dauntless, he’s no stranger to pain. And it isn’t that he’s afraid, for goodness’ sake, he just isn’t in a hurry to let some stranger scar him for life. The idea of getting a picture on your skin is insane, it’s a level of commitment that he isn’t prepared to make, it’s all kinds of scary –
Shit. Okay, maybe he’s a little scared.
The second that he makes this realisation, his gaze rests on a design some distance away, something that resonates strangely in his chest. He feels it, suddenly feels strongly about it, and feels like he has something to prove to himself in overcoming this silly little fear. He knows Taehyung and Jimin wouldn’t think less of him for choosing not to get a tattoo, but all the same, he’s Dauntless now. And what would a Dauntless do?
Jungkook strides forward determinedly, plucks the glass square off the wall, and heads to the rear of the store.
A few long hours later, Jungkook and his friends leave the parlour, grinning proudly and fussing with the dressings over their new tattoos.
“I can’t believe you got it right over your shoulder blade, Tae, didn’t that really hurt?” Jimin asks.
Taehyung does his best to look impressively nonchalant. “No, no way. Hardly felt a thing. In fact, let’s get another one.”
“Alright, big man, let’s go.”
“H-hey, wait, get off –”
“Jungkook?”
Jungkook spins around, his eyes scanning the dark corridor until he spots movement. Yoongi emerges from the shadows, something hard in his expression that Jungkook hasn’t seen before.
“Uh, yes?” he replies confusedly, glancing at Jimin at his side.
“We’ll just – we’ll meet you back at the dorms, Kook-ah,” Jimin mumbles nervously, grabbing Taehyung’s arm and dragging him away. Jungkook rather wishes they’d have stayed to keep him company, but he steels himself.
Dauntless. Brave. Right.
“Did I just see you coming out of the tattoo place?” Yoongi asks, a bite in his tone.
“Yeah,” Jungkook says. “We got tattoos.”
Yoongi laughs humourlessly. He crosses his arms over his chest, a defensive gesture, Jungkook learned about that in Amity; that means Yoongi wants to create distance between them, wants to make it clear that they aren’t friends.
“I didn’t realise you were weak enough to give in to pressure like that.”
“Wait, what?” Jungkook says, louder than he’d intended, his voice bouncing off the low ceiling. “Weak? How am I weak?”
“Getting a tattoo just because your friends did. That’s stupid, Jungkook, and you know it,” Yoongi snaps. “You don’t have to prove anything to them.”
“I’m not trying to prove anything to anyone!” He can feel anger boiling through his veins. In Amity, he was taught to count to ten before reacting with anger, to calm himself down before he does something he’ll regret. He isn’t in Amity anymore. “Don’t come over here and act like you know me better than my own friends, that’s bullshit.”
Yoongi looks a little shocked, his pale face flushing with rage. “So you chose to get that, hm? By yourself?”
“What does it even matter? What I choose to do is none of your business.”
“I’m a Dauntless leader.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, does that make you in charge of my every decision? Does it?”
Yoongi doesn’t reply. He just glowers, his dark eyes flickering dangerously. Jungkook finds that he isn’t scared of Yoongi, of whatever repercussion he might suffer in the morning for talking back to a leader; he’s just furious. He isn’t weak. He isn’t.
“I’m going to sleep. If you want to kick my ass, do it at training tomorrow. I need to rest up,” Jungkook tells the leader in a monotone, turning his back on the elder and heading for the dorms. Adrenaline courses through his veins and he feels - proud, feels elated, and he thinks he understands the point of being Dauntless, of being brave, better than ever before.
♡ ♡ ♡
The days pass by without event, and Jungkook eventually stops expecting Yoongi to beat the shit out of him after every practice. In fact, the leader seems to be trying even harder than before, singling Jungkook out to praise his improvement whilst maintaining this strange civility.
“Good job, Jungkook-ah, keep it up,” Yoongi calls across the hall, even though Jungkook isn’t really doing anything noteworthy, just practicing blocking hits with Jimin.
Jimin raises an eyebrow, snickering when Jungkook flushes at the attention. “How’s that crush coming along?”
“Shut up,” he mutters, aiming for Jimin’s stomach when the elder isn’t paying attention.
He’s getting stronger, he knows he is, and he’s only a little intimidated when he gets good enough to be paired with some of the higher-ranking Dauntless-born initiates. They’re all ostensibly kind of terrifying, dyed hair and pierced everything and dark ink swarming over their arms and throats, but he reminds himself not to judge too quickly. After all, he has a tattoo now, and he’s been training hard. Maybe he’ll even be good enough to win.
“First jumper, you’re up,” Namjoon shouts, summoning Jungkook over to one of the padded fighting rings in the centre of the hall. Jungkook makes his way there as calmly and confidently as he can whilst Namjoon scans the crowd. “Last jumper, get up here.”
As Jungkook steps into the ring, he watches a boy step up, a little shorter than himself but broad and heavily muscled. His face is kind of blank, unaffected, and Jungkook wonders what’s going through the boy’s mind. Is he nervous? As intimidated as Jungkook feels? Or just bored, ready to knock Jungkook out and get back to his own business?
Jungkook shakes out his hands, taking a deep breath. He has no reason to be frightened. He was the first jumper, he was, and this boy was the very last. There are different kinds of bravery. Jungkook is brave.
The boy takes his place opposite Jungkook and they mirror one another, Jungkook assuming the stance that Yoongi taught him – feet apart, knees relaxed, arms up – when Namjoon gives them the nod to begin.
Barely a second passes before the boy lunges forward, and Jungkook only just manages to dodge a heavy blow to the head, feeling the rush of air against his ear as the boy misses. He’s been thrown off already, startled and confused, but he’s still in this. He scans the boy’s body language carefully; he’s panting already, having thrown a lot of weight into his first punch, and he seems to be slower on his feet than Jungkook. He can work with that.
Thinking fast, Jungkook closes the distance between them, grabbing the boy’s shoulder and twisting his torso so that his second punch misses its target and thumps dully against Jungkook’s bicep instead. Jungkook brings his knee up hard into the boy’s ribcage and hears, with a rush of confidence, a pained huff of breath.
“Go on, Jungkookie!”
Jimin’s voice rings out across the hall and it bolsters him further as he grabs hold of the boy’s shirt, dragging him backwards to fall face-first onto the floor. He jumps out of the way, not daring to turn his back to his opponent for even a moment, and within a heartbeat, the boy is back on his feet. His face is red, with exertion and maybe humiliation, too, and he lurches towards Jungkook once more.
Jungkook tries his best to dance out of the way but the boy’s heavy, meaty fist collides with the side of his head, and stars erupt before his eyes. The pain doesn’t hit him for a long moment and he’s just dazed, blinking impatiently, stumbling slightly, trying to locate his opponent, when the boy’s other fist slams into his jaw.
He goes down hard, the world tipping before his eyes until the floor rushes up to meet him, jarring his entire left side. Sounds aren’t reaching his ears properly, as though someone has turned down the volume in the room. Jungkook blearily lifts his head, trying to make sense of whereabouts he is, when he sees Yoongi angrily talking to Namjoon, gesturing towards Jungkook and shaking his head. Namjoon isn’t paying him any heed, instead watching the ring with a shrewd kind of focus, his eyes darting between Jungkook, on the ground, and somewhere behind him.
Right. His opponent.
Jungkook pushes himself to his feet, nearly tripping over in his lingering dizziness, but he manages to resume his stance, standing before the Dauntless-born. The boy is still red in the face, still panting, his eyes flickering towards the leaders as though he’s hoping Namjoon will call an end to the fight, but no such luck.
Whilst the boy is distracted, Jungkook takes his chance, aiming an uppercut at the other’s jaw, the impact rippling through his knuckles and along his arm. The boy stumbles backwards, his hands over his mouth, and Jungkook thinks he might’ve bitten his tongue. He can hear encouragement behind him but he can’t make sense of the words, not yet, still too determined to win the fight. He steps forward, spinning and aiming a kick at the boy’s chest, sending him staggering back even further.
He waits for his opponent to move back into range, to ready a counter-attack, but he realises rather belatedly that everybody is cheering. The boy fell out of the ring. He won.
Jungkook turns excitedly to Jimin and Taehyung, both beaming at him from the crowd, clapping along with the other initiates. The Dauntless-born seem a little put out, grumbling as they applaud half-heartedly, but Jungkook barely notices. He won. He’s not weak. Now everybody can see that.
He spins around, trying to locate Yoongi, not entirely sure why but just needing to know that the leader saw that, saw that he is as capable as every other initiate in here, maybe even more so. After a moment of scanning the perimeter of the crowd, however, Jungkook quickly realises that Yoongi isn’t here. He left. He didn’t see.
“You did it!” Taehyung hollers from behind him, throwing his arms around Jungkook’s shoulders in a clumsy hug. “That was amazing, Kook! You did so well!”
“He was like, twice your size, they’ve got to score you high for that,” Jimin grins, ruffling Jungkook’s hair.
Jungkook tries his best to smile back, to celebrate with his friends, but he can’t help but feel slightly disheartened. He remembers during the fight, when Yoongi had been yelling at Namjoon; was he trying to call the fight off? Did he think Jungkook was going to lose?
Taehyung links his arm through Jungkook’s, pulling him away from the ring. “Come on, let’s get you patched up. Your jaw is going to bruise.”
A half hour or so later, Jungkook sits with Jimin and Taehyung in the otherwise deserted infirmary, an icepack held against his jaw and a bottle of water in his hand. His friends are excitedly recapping today’s fights, Jungkook’s as well as their own; it had been an all-round good day for the trio, and surely tomorrow’s scores will reflect their successes.
It’s a shame that Jungkook doesn’t really feel like he’s made any progress.
He can’t see the point of succeeding if one of the leaders has no faith in him. No matter how well he performs, one of the men in charge will always be expecting him to fail, underestimating his abilities and calling him weak. Just thinking about it makes his blood boil.
“You don’t seem all that excited about your first big win, Kook,” Taehyung observes, nudging Jungkook’s knee with his fist. “What’s the matter?”
Jungkook heaves a sigh. Perhaps talking about it will help. “The other night, after we got those tattoos, you know Yoongi wanted to speak to me?” They nod, frowning concernedly. “He called me weak. He said that it was weak and stupid for me to get a tattoo just because you guys did, and he said that I don’t have to prove anything to anyone. And today, during the fight, I saw him shouting at Namjoon, like he didn’t think the match was fair. Like he didn’t think I’d win.”
“Are you sure?” Jimin asks. “Did you hear him?”
“Well, no, but what else could it be?” Jungkook grits out, trying not to move his aching jaw too much. “One of our leaders thinks I’m weak. He didn’t even stay to watch the end of the fight. He probably thinks I lost.”
“He’ll see tomorrow that you didn’t,” Taehyung shrugs, exchanging a look with Jimin. “You’re overthinking it, Kook. Don’t worry so much. Everyone can see that you’re doing really well here.”
“Yeah, well. Not Yoongi.”
Jimin barely manages to conceal his eye-roll and pushes himself to his feet, stretching leisurely. “I’m heading back. You guys coming?”
Taehyung gets up at once, turning to Jungkook expectantly. “I’m going to find some painkillers first, guys. I’ll meet you back there,” he mumbles, really just needing a moment alone to be miserable before he’s ready to face the excitement of the other initiates.
His friends seem to understand, heading back to the dorm right away, and the sounds of their laughter and conversation gets further and further away until he’s left in silence. Jungkook exhales heavily, a breath that he feels like he’d been holding ever since he let his blood sizzle on the coals. He didn’t expect it to be easy here, but this – this is more than he’d bargained for.
“Hey,” someone calls from the other side of the room, making him jump. He spots Yoongi crossing the infirmary, his hands pushed into his pockets. He looks almost sheepish, a little nervous, like he doesn’t want this conversation but knows it needs to be had. “I, uh – I heard all that before. That you said.”
“Oh,” Jungkook says. He isn’t sure if he’s about to be scolded again, but either way, he isn’t about to apologise for it.
“I’m sorry for saying that you’re weak. And stupid.” Yoongi drops down onto the bed beside Jungkook, staring at his hands in his lap. “I don’t think you’re weak. I actually think that you’re really strong. That’s why I got a little – a little annoyed. I didn’t think you needed to do something like get a tattoo to prove that you’re brave.”
“If you think I’m strong, why were you trying to get Namjoon to end the fight?” Jungkook asks sharply, his eyes narrowing in distrust. Yoongi looks small in this moment, his shoulders hunched over. He looks tired. “Why did you leave before it was over?”
Yoongi laughs, though Jungkook doesn’t know what’s funny. He glances up at Jungkook for a second, his eyes flickering from the icepack still against Jungkook’s jaw, to his eyes, to his mouth. When he looks back down, he looks even smaller.
“That wasn’t something I wanted to see.”
♡ ♡ ♡
Jungkook can’t sleep. The dorm is rattling with snores and slow, heavy breathing, the occasional rustle of fabrics or creak of bedsprings. Jimin and Taehyung rest in their cots either side of him, sleeping soundly. He feels like they’re mocking him, peaceful and carefree as they are, whilst he can only stare blindly at the cement ceiling overhead.
He doesn’t know why he’s struggling to sleep. He’s physically exhausted, as always, having trained until his muscles were smarting in protest during practice that day. There’s just something bothering him, some strange uneasiness writhing in the pit of his stomach, unrelenting no matter which way he lies or what he tries to think about. It quickly becomes clear that he won’t be getting any rest tonight.
Pushing himself out of bed as quietly as he can, Jungkook pulls on his sneakers and slips a black hoodie over his shoulders. Maybe he could use the cover of darkness to explore the Dauntless headquarters a little; he hasn’t had a chance to look around since his arrival, not properly, and it’s not like anyone will be awake to catch him. Perhaps it’ll tire him out.
The corridors are so dark that Jungkook can’t see his fingers even when he waves them an inch from his face, so he stays close to the walls, the cool concrete firm and comforting beneath his palms. He doesn’t really know where he’s going and just takes turns at random; most paths end up in the Pit, anyway. It isn’t like he’ll get lost.
After a while, he hears the distant sound of rushing water, a sound that he hasn’t heard since he left Amity. He feels nostalgia hit him like a brick wall, deep and yearning and aching. He’s happy here, and he knows he made the right decision, but all the same – he’s missed the sound of nature.
Hurrying after the sound, Jungkook picks up the pace, straining his ears to better navigate the labyrinth of dark, stone corridors, until he emerges onto a kind of chasm, the floor falling away into nothingness. To his left, a path runs alongside the edge of the chasm, disappearing into shadows, and to his right, a waterfall, dizzyingly tall and spraying him with refreshingly cool water even though he stands metres away. He wanders closer to the tumbling column of foamy water, taking care to stay away from the sheer edge of the chasm, following the line of water up, up to the ceiling, so high he can’t even see where the water is coming from.
As he gets closer, he spots a kind of hollow set into the wall behind the waterfall, the path forming a bridge over the water. As he gets closer still, he sees that he isn’t alone.
Yoongi sits on the edge of the chasm, his legs dangling over the edge as though the drop doesn’t make him feel lightheaded. His slight frame swims in an oversized navy sweatshirt, the hood pulled up around his cheeks to protect him from the cold. He doesn’t seem to have noticed Jungkook – at least, if he has, he doesn’t show it – and just stares down at his own hands, distractedly rubbing at his knuckles and at the lines of his palms.
Jungkook wanders over, trying his best not to overthink the situation. His heart is pounding at the sight of the drop into the chasm beside him, at the thought of risking Yoongi’s anger once more by creeping around after hours, maybe with something else, too, though he pays that no heed. He’s a Dauntless, after all; he can be brave.
Holding onto that thought, he drops down beside Yoongi, opting to sit criss-cross applesauce rather than hang his feet over the edge. The leader has surely noticed his presence by now, but he doesn’t look up, doesn’t even speak. A silence falls over them, the thundering water reduced to a distant roar, and Jungkook settles into the moment, leaning his elbows on his knees. Yoongi’s company hasn’t always been a nice thing, but he feels comfortable now, sitting with the leader like this. They’re kindred spirits, night owls, perching together in the darkness. It isn’t so bad.
Soon, though, Jungkook feels questions threatening to tumble from the tip of his tongue. There’s so much he still doesn’t know about Yoongi. None of the initiates know anything about their mysterious leader, really, but Jungkook can’t be satisfied with that, not like the others. He wants to know this man, though he isn’t sure why.
Whatever. That’s a question for another day.
“Why did you leave Erudite?” Jungkook asks, and though he speaks quietly, his words echo from the concrete around them.
Yoongi’s shoulders heave with a slow, deep breath, and after a moment or two, he lifts his head, staring into the waterfall before them. “I just wasn’t the same as everybody else,” he mumbles. Jungkook has to focus to catch the elder’s words. “Not my family, or the kids I grew up with. It came so naturally to them, they were so content to accept what they’d been born into. I remember learning about all of the other factions in school, about how Amity grew our food, how Abnegation helped the factionless, how Dauntless protected the city, and I felt so – so ashamed.”
“Ashamed?”
“Erudite let everybody do everything for them. I understand that it’s important to research and to make new discoveries, but – I never understood how we could let Amity feed us, or let Dauntless protect us,” Yoongi continues. His voice is so low, so quiet, that Jungkook can almost feel it reverberating through his bones, and supresses a shiver. “Dauntless fight the battles of all other factions. Dauntless can stand up for injustice, can see something bad happening and put an end to it. In Erudite, they see something bad and they – they turn the other cheek, or hand over responsibility to someone else. That isn’t how I wanted to live.”
“So you left because you wanted the freedom to fight for yourself?” Jungkook asks, and at that, Yoongi turns to him, a small smile curling his lips.
“Something like that, yeah.”
They fall back into another silence, though this time, Yoongi focuses on Jungkook. It doesn’t make Jungkook uncomfortable like it has in the past; rather, he gets the impression that Yoongi is interested, as curious about him as he sometimes feels about Yoongi. His suspicion is confirmed barely a minute later, when the leader opens his mouth to speak once more.
“Why did you transfer?”
Jungkook leans back onto his hands, feeling the spray of the waterfall pepper his face. “I wanted freedom, too,” he confesses quietly, and when Yoongi doesn’t interrupt, only blinks patiently at him, he goes on. “There’s a lot of freedom in being brave, I think. I wanted to have the freedom to be - unkind, sometimes. I bet that sounds awful.”
Yoongi smiles. “It doesn’t.”
“In Amity, we were expected to give away anything we had, anything we’d worked for or earned, because it’s considered ‘kind’. We were expected to be friendly and affectionate with everyone, to let strangers touch you or get to know who you are, even if you didn’t want to,” Jungkook mumbles. He flushes a little, realising how petulant he must sound, how very bratty he must seem to Yoongi. “I just – I don’t like being touched. I don’t like letting people in. That should be my decision to make, and I needed to be brave to make it.”
He finds that he’s a little too afraid to meet the elder’s gaze for a while, but when he finally does look up, he doesn’t see any judgment in Yoongi’s dark, shrewd eyes, only curiosity.
“You said that you don’t like to be touched,” Yoongi begins slowly, carefully. “You let me touch you during training. I mean – if I knew you didn’t like it, I wouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”
Jungkook quickly shakes his head, straightening up. They’re a lot closer now than they were before, leaning in towards one another so that their shoulders brush, body heat churning between them. “No, I didn’t mind it.”
“You didn’t? Why?”
Jungkook pauses. Yoongi just looks at him, his slanted eyes black and glassy, his petal-pink lips parted slightly. He doesn’t know why he’s looking at Yoongi’s mouth. He swallows thickly. “I don’t know.”
Silence envelopes them again, somehow different to before, intense and heated in an unfamiliar way. Jungkook finds that he doesn’t know where to look, doesn’t know what to do with his body, unsettled and uneasy.
A long few moments pass, and then Yoongi takes Jungkook’s hand in his own, pulling it into his lap and winding their fingers together. His hand is warm, soft and gentle and soothing against his palm, so he isn’t entirely sure why the leader’s touch makes him shiver. He looks up at Yoongi questioningly but the elder just stares at their hands, at the way they fit together so neatly, so securely, so Jungkook follows his gaze.
It’s nice, he thinks. It’s nice to be touched like this.
♡ ♡ ♡
One night, Jungkook returns to the now-empty training hall after dinner, seeking out yet another moment of solitude. Jimin and Taehyung had understood, as they always did, because they’re so altogether great to him that Jungkook often wonders what he did to deserve such good friends. Taehyung had let him go on the condition that he bound his hands beforehand; in a practice a few days back, he’d been a little sloppy during a sparring match and split his knuckles open. His own fault, but he does as he’s asked anyway, wrapping bandages around his palms and securing them in place.
The only light in the hall filters through the narrow windows close to the ceiling, pale and bluish, sparkling with dust motes that float through the air. Jungkook had dragged the frame of one of the hanging punch bags into the centre of the room to better see what he’s doing, and time sort of loses all meaning, the sound of his fists smacking into the leather resonating around the hall like a metronome.
He doesn’t know how much time has passed when he pauses, taking a step back. His chest aches, his lungs clamouring for every noisy breath, and he’s bleeding through his bandages, but he feels good. It’s the first time his head has turned off in days, ever since he bumped into Yoongi beneath the waterfall, ever since the leader took his hand and explored the scars and life lines as though committing it to memory.
Jungkook crouches down, running his hands through his sweat-soaked hair. He doesn’t know what to make of that whole encounter. Yoongi hasn’t acted any differently since then, hasn’t brought it up, hasn’t tried to talk to Jungkook. To be honest, he isn’t entirely sure what he’d do if Yoongi had tried. Probably something embarrassing, like throw up on the elder’s feet or fall flat on his face.
He straightens back up, noticing that his t-shirt sticks to his chest and back like a second skin. Impatiently, he grabs the back of the material and pulls it over his head, throwing it out of the way before he focuses once more on the punch bag. He’ll head to bed soon, not wanting to overdo it, but thinking about Yoongi has his mind buzzing with uneasy activity again. Just another few minutes, just enough to settle his anxiety, and then he can rest.
“How did I know it’d be you causing a racket down here?”
Jungkook jumps, turning so fast that his neck cracks, blushing a little because jesus christ has this man ever learned how not to sneak up on people. He becomes very aware that he’s standing shirtless before a Dauntless leader, practically feeling the progress of the blood blush creeping down his throat and over his bare chest.
“Can’t sleep again?” Yoongi asks, slowly making his way over to Jungkook across the hall, his hands in his pockets. He’s smiling, his eyes doing that searching thing again, flickering over Jungkook as though taking it all in.
“I – it just helps clear my head,” Jungkook stammers. His gaze drops to the ground. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t be here.”
“It’s alright,” Yoongi says dismissively. He’s close now, close enough for Jungkook to see the shadows cast by his eyelashes over his cheekbones. Yoongi’s staring at his torso, and Jungkook’s about to complain, when Yoongi frowns. “Can I see your tattoo?”
“Oh,” Jungkook replies. He’d almost forgotten about it. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”
He angles his body so that Yoongi can properly see the design sprawling over his left side, right over his ribcage. Yoongi steps closer still, gazing down at the ink with an unreadable expression on his face. It’s still healing, but Jungkook loves it, more than he ever expected to, even when taking into account how taken he’d been with the picture when he first saw it on the wall of the tattoo parlour.
It’s a doe, beautifully drawn in black ink with minimal shading, surrounded by large peonies. Jungkook has spent longer than he’d care to admit in front of mirrors, staring at the artwork now adorning his skin. He’s enamoured with every little detail; the glassy sparkle of the doe’s wide, black eyes, the way the peonies appear to be cascading down around the creature, the seamlessness of the transition between bare skin and flower petals and spotted fur.
“It’s beautiful,” Yoongi murmurs. He glances up into Jungkook’s face through his lashes. “Can I touch it?”
Jungkook doesn’t quite trust himself to speak so he nods, swallowing thickly, and he doesn’t have nearly enough time to prepare himself for the soft press of Yoongi’s calloused hands against his ribs, comparatively cool against his heated skin. Yoongi traces the lines of the petals with rough fingertips, one hand wrapped around Jungkook’s waist as though to keep him in place. Jungkook feels like he’s about to burst into flame, not sure where to look, not sure whether he wants to lean into the elder’s touch or shy away.
“Why a doe?” Yoongi asks without looking up, his enraptured gaze still raking over the creature.
Jungkook takes a moment to swallow again, to summon some moisture back into his suddenly bone-dry mouth, before he tries to reply. “It’s my way of holding onto Amity,” he replies quietly. He struggles to meet the elder’s gaze when Yoongi looks back up at him, his hands still on Jungkook’s burning skin. “It’s there to remind me what I learned there. Even though I’m Dauntless now, or – or I want to be – I hope I can still be kind and gentle, sometimes.”
Yoongi’s smiling again, a soft curve of his lips that has Jungkook’s heart thumping against his bones. “It suits you,” is all he says, his attention dropping back to Jungkook’s torso, though the younger notices that his gaze wanders a little. Where his hand wraps around Jungkook’s waist, his fingers move gently over the skin, tracing the muscles just starting to appear. “You’re getting stronger.”
“Yeah, a little,” Jungkook murmurs shyly.
Yoongi’s hands begin to roam a little, nothing too invasive but more than Jungkook’s ever been touched before, more gently, more reverently, more. Yoongi traces a faint line of muscle over Jungkook’s abdomen, brushes his thumb beneath the slight swell of Jungkook’s pectorals.
“Is this okay?” the elder asks lowly, somehow setting Jungkook at ease and setting him ablaze at the same time.
“Y-yeah.”
Yoongi’s lips push together in thought for a second. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why is it okay for me to touch you?”
Jungkook doesn’t know how to answer that, instead lifting his hand to wrap around Yoongi’s wrist, keeping the elder’s hands against his skin. He likes the feeling, likes how it feels to have those long, calloused fingers pressing against him. Yoongi’s gaze meets his own once more and there’s something different in those dark eyes now, like he’s finally finished searching, like he’s found what he was looking for in Jungkook.
“Do you think I’ll make it in Dauntless, hyung?” Jungkook asks suddenly, unable to stop the question from tumbling from his lips. He flushes so deeply that his cheeks burn, berating himself for blurting out his worries, for accidentally calling the leader ‘hyung’ without being prompted, but Yoongi’s gaze softens.
“I do,” he replies seriously. He’s staring at Jungkook’s lips and Jungkook doesn’t know what to do with himself, hyperaware of Yoongi’s hand on his waist, of his own hand on Yoongi’s forearm. “I think you belong here.”
With you? Jungkook wants to ask, but he doesn’t, he can’t, probably couldn’t say anything at all even if he tried to.
Yoongi’s free hand moves to cradle Jungkook’s jaw and he lets out a breath, his eyes closing tightly. Surely Yoongi can hear his heart hammering away, can feel the way his blood boils beneath his skin. Jungkook feels so much anticipation in the air between them that he’s in real danger of bursting, of losing his mind altogether, but then Yoongi’s lips are pressing against his own softly, so achingly softly, and he whimpers against the elder’s mouth.
Yoongi holds him like he’s strong and brave, like he’s fragile and delicate, his grip as firm as it is gentle. Jungkook can only cling to the elder’s shoulders and take, take whatever Yoongi has to give him, his heart swelling in his chest.
The kiss doesn’t last long, not long enough, and before Jungkook realises what’s happening, Yoongi is pulling back, angling Jungkook’s jaw to peer into the younger’s eyes. He’s smiling again, so fond, so beautiful, and Jungkook smiles dizzily back.
He feels braver already.