Archive of Our Own ^beta

IT GRIPS HIM tight and shakes him. It snatches his fingers and tugs, tugs, him in the night. It looks at him and whispers sweet promises in his ears like a siren attempting to whisk him off to a desert island for consumption by a beautiful beast.

Like he's tied to the mast with wax shoved deep in his ears to block out the hypnotic melodies, a scarf covering his eyes out of fear he'll be drawn in solely by their beauty. And it burns like a bitch. Blood may as well be dripping down the sides of his neck and pooling at his collarbones for how hard he tries not to hear it. He may as well be blind for how quickly his eyes dart away from—

Well, it would also be easier if someone stole his voice like Ariel's, and yeah maybe he'd never be able to sing again but at least he wouldn't fucking have to worry about the idiot remarks he makes in the other man's presence.

In layman's terms, Jeongguk's fucked.

Which is why it's the dumbest decision on earth to text Yoongi at 11pm when he knows the guy's probably busy at the studio, deep in something probably amazing that he'll decide is inadequate and scrap before showing anyone. A few times, Jeongguk's managed to get Yoongi to show him incomplete work just to have Yoongi say, "Don't like it too much, by tomorrow I'll think it's shit and you'll never hear it again" and all Jeongguk had wanted to do was to tell him that it was fucking beautiful—but he knew Yoongi wouldn't listen even if Jeongguk had the nerve to say it.

Against every fibre of his being screaming that it's a bad idea, that it'll surely expose him for the stupid lovesick idiot he is, he searches up Yoongi's name in his contacts and stares at the blank space, the text cursor blinking at him urgently. It's nearly an overwhelming prospect to begin typing anything at all. But if Jeongguk can't look Yoongi in the eyes on the best of days, then he's really out of luck when it comes to communicating with the older man in any capacity. This is the only available means left to him.

He stares at the cursor for a long time, or at least what feels like a long time, and then has to tear his gaze away. He searches his room for inspiration. Jeongguk has to say something mundane. Not so terribly mundane that it doesn't garner a response, but something simple enough that Yoongi won't feel pressured to respond, but something just interesting enough that he still might.

Fuck. What if Yoongi doesn't answer? The guy is just as notoriously bad at responding to texts as Jeongguk is. But maybe he'll luck out. Or maybe it would be better for his health of Yoongi doesn't answer? Who knows at this point.

Jeongguk sees the long, black, hooded cloak from their recently filmed music video hanging on the coat hook by his door, and he's struck by the perfect thing to send Yoongi.

A quick google search and pasting of a photo into his text box later, Jeongguk is typing the caption:

     remind you of anything?

And with a a sudden rush of adrenaline, Jeongguk gets up from his bed to throw on the hood, and goes to his bathroom to take a photo of himself in the mirror wearing it.

He sends it, to make it clear that the photo of Kermit the Frog looking at himself in a hood is hilariously similar to their Fake Love concept.

To Jeongguk's utmost surprise, only thirty seconds pass before the grey dots appear on Yoongi's behalf and his bubble pops up.

->They let you keep the hood?

Jeongguk quickly responds.

     i asked

And then follows it with:

     im planning on using it on halloween to be a sith lord

Except that's a goddamn lie. They'll be busy Halloween. They're always busy. He wonders if Yoongi will call him out on it, but he doesn't. Jeongguk's not sure if he's disappointed or indifferent. Maybe he's just happy Yoongi is replying at all.

->Nice

Jeongguk panics. A one-word response is always the signal of the end of a conversation. Not that they really started having one—but like, still. He doesn't want this to dry up yet.

     you could be a stormtrooper

     i googled it and they do make smaller costumes

Jeongguk heart races in anticipation of a response. Again he's kind of lying, but at least he's teasing. He hopes Yoongi gets that. If he does, it's a sure-fire way to get a retort, Jeongguk knows that much.

->If you were here I'd smack you

Immediately Jeongguk laughs.

     id expect nothing less

     or no

     you wouldn't smack me you'd glare at me

->Yeah, to death

Jeongguk smiles broadly, sending a gravestone emoji. He waits for an answer in the form of an emoji, but gradually he realises it's not going to come. Yoongi's attention must have strayed to something else. Which, fair enough. Jeongguk is bothering him at work. Yoongi's always been very clear that the studio is for work. Not antics, not games, not chatting—and yet here Jeongguk is, feeling very satisfied to have broke that wall down just a little bit.

A spur of the moment descion makes him send a barrage of nonsense texts, trying to recapture Yoongi's attention.

     or you could be yoda

     you're old and wise

     but not green or hairy

     or are you hairy? Like besides the top of your head? I guess I wouldn't know

     but yoda isn't hairy either

     he just has like whispy old man hair

     whatever, I'm bored I'm sorry hyung if I'm bothering you

     you're probably busy working, but don't work too hard! You're not a machine

     jeez what am I saying

     there's leftover soba in the fridge when you get home if you want it

The weight of what Jeongguk has just done strikes him hard in the chest. The hammer of regret hitting and practically knocking the air out of him. He falls back on his pillows, groaning in distress. This is such a dumb idea. Who the fuck is he kidding with this? He thinks a few little texts back and forth with Yoongi will change the very nature of their relationship? It's unlikely, to say the least. And now he's put himself out there, subtly, sure, but still out there. Still tempting fate to crush Jeongguk's heart. To stomp on his dreams.

The regret is still pumping through his veins, and he can't seem to sink deep enough into his blankets. So he shoves his earbuds in and plays some American pop music to drown it all out. He hopes he hasn't made a truly huge mistake.

An hour later—after he's finally been able to bury his dumb emotions and senseless worries—his phone buzzes.

He ashamed to say that he swipes his phone open so fast and with such force that he knocks the entire device off his bed and to the floor. Exhilarated, he bends down from the mattress to read the message half upside-down.

->Can you come get me from the studio?

     of course

Jeongguk answers as fast as his fingers let him.

•••

It's well known that Jeongguk doesn't text. Ask him a question, and he won't get back to you until three weeks later when you've long since forgotten you'd texted him at all. Not to mention social media in general. His use of it maxes out at a vlive every six months; like he's allergic. Which is bizarre to anyone who's seen him, the guy's glued to his phone. But who the fuck knows what he's doing on it.

If you have to get in contact the only real option is by calling, and even then your chances of getting picked up are slim. Honestly, a reply isn't guaranteed even if you go to Jeongguk in person. He's just as likely to blink at you and change the subject as he is to enthusiastically engage in your conversation.

So when Yoongi's phone lights up with a text notification, the last person he expects it to be from is Jeongguk. Or, no, he's not the last person he'd expect—the thought would never even cross Yoongi's mind. The two don't seem compatible. Jeongguk. Texting. Like magnets pushing each other apart.

Yoongi's first thought when he reads Jeongguk's name is that something has happened. Something bad. Something that would require a quick message relayed from the maknae, of all people. He's quick to unlock his phone, and rereads the little grey message bubble a dozen times before it sinks in.

Jeon Jeongguk has sent him a meme. A goddamn meme.

Kermit the frog is facing another version of himself in a black hood. Yoongi's seen it a million times. Never laughed once. But Jeongguk sending it somehow makes him chuckle.

->remind you of anything?

At first Yoongi's confused, but the little dots pop up that mean Jeongguk's typing. Another photo arrives.

It's a picture of Jeongguk, a selfie taken with his bathroom mirror, of him in the black hood they'd filmed with last week. His phone held in one hand to take the picture, covering his face.

And Yoongi laughs. Like—he snorts and the energy drink he'd been sipping shoots uncomfortably up his nose and dribbles out of his mouth onto his keyboard. What the fuck?

Yoongi can't help but wonder if these texts were meant for him. But he probably hasn't texted Jeongguk in at least three months, so it's highly unlikely his name was near the top of his contact list. He's not sure how to reply, what does one even say? He's not about about to fucking put down "lol" unironically, and emojis go against his life's morals, so he settles for:

     They let you keep the hood?

->i asked

And then quickly followed by

->im planning on using it on halloween to be a sith lord

Yoongi rolls his eyes. Typical. Taehyung and Hoseok had shoved the Star Wars movies down Jeongguk's throat early in their trainee days.

     Nice

And Yoongi leaves it at that. He assumes Jeongguk doesn't have any more to share and Yoongi doesn't have any further questions. But moments later, just as he's tossed his drink can in the garbage, his phone lights up yet again.

->you could be a stormtrooper

->i googled it and they do make smaller costumes

It takes a full thirty seconds for Yoongi to realise he's being made fun of. For some reason, he has to sit back in his chair and gape for a moment. It's just. So wildly out of character? Not for Jeongguk to tease, but for Jeongguk to text teasingly. To text. Period. Still, Yoongi has to admit it's nice. He's been caught up in listening to music samples in varying pitches for the past seven hours and frankly his brain is fried. Every sound sounds the same. All just blurring into one continuous stream of percussion instruments.

     If you were here I'd smack you

He hits send with a shake of his head.

->id expect nothing less

->or no

->you wouldn't smack me you'd glare at me

Yoongi snorts.

     Yeah, to death

Jeongguk sends a gravestone emoji. And Yoongi just rolls his eyes again, setting his phone aside face down and looking back at the computer screen.

He's not making much progress on this track, but now his head has been cleared some so he's able to to focus again.

Another hour passes, the good mood propelling him forward and through more work than he's gotten done the rest of the day. He sits back, still relatively unsatisfied. Time for a nap.

He gets up and then crashes into the recliner in one corner of his studio.

Yoongi's schedule, when they have no schedule, is a goddamn mess. His grandmother always told him to "sleep when you're tired and eat when you're hungry," which are words he's chosen to live by as much as he can. He spends most nights with eyes stretched wide staring at screens and ear drums pounding with music. Or with his fingers placed on piano tiles testing out keys and new rhythms. Then he sleeps the next day late into the afternoon, sometimes into the evening, and the cycle begins again.

This is time the others' often spend resting and gaming and binging TV shows they missed out on while doing promotions and performances and touring. Yoongi not so much. Namjoon and Hoseok are in their studios frequently, too. But for them it's almost different. For them it's work, but for Yoongi? It's all he's ever known. 

As in, being alone with unhealthy lifestyle patterns and not speaking to anyone for days, kind of different. As a kid he'd ghost out of friendships so regularly, that eventually he just stopped making them altogether. But when he got into his teen years and his brain started eating him up from the inside out, he'd needed a friendly presence. One that wasn't his parents or brother breathing down in his neck. And he hadn't had it. No one to fall back on.

Bangtan has given him an incredible support system. He knows they're here for him to fall back on. But despite that, he still can't help but distance himself.

Maybe it's because everything is surreal. With each passing year, reality has turned into the stuff of daydreams. Daesangs? Billboard? Record sales, triple crowns, international tours? His face on bus stops and advertisements. His name found trending on twitter. Bangtan being revered as potentially the biggest musical boy group in the world? Impossible dreams, but now they've become rooted in statistics and interview questions and by the numbers, numbers, numbers. Numbers are always so important. The sheer size of their fan base alone has won them a goddamn a world record. Top that off with the fucking shelves of awards and even the fucking gucci outfits?

They're idols. Celebrities. Celebrated.

Yoongi talks a lot of shit. Always has. Talked about proving everyone wrong and reaching the top—and now they're at the fucking top and he doesn't know what to do with it. It's the feeling, he imagines, you're supposed to get when you look up at the Great Pyramids. Or at the Grand Canyon, or the godlike landscape of the Himalayas. Incomprehensible. Impossible. In denial.

Or maybe he just feels that he himself is infinitesimally small.

A mere speck of dust.

His brain is too full to let him sleep. His studio lights are dark and his lounge chair comfortable, but it's all meaningless if his mind won't stop reeling. Like a train chugging down a mountain with broken breaks. Doomed to fly off the rails. To crash and burn.

Yoongi leans back, propping up the foot rest and pulling a blanket over himself. He could just go home. He should just go home. Fall into bed or take a shower. Eat. And yet, sometimes he can't help but feel like it's all pointless. Everything from this studio to their awards to the box of old tracks Yoongi recorded on cheap equipment almost a decade ago. All of it. All of it is pointless in the grand scheme of things.

And now he's angry. Filling with rage. Boiling magma, pumping through his veins—the room is hot—he's so fucking frustrated because it's not supposed to be like this. Not anymore. He throws his blankets off and slams the foot rest down so fast the chair makes a horrible crack sound in response. He's just always breaking shit isn't he? Yoongi wants to scream, but just clenches his teeth instead. Feeling the bones pressing together and his nails curling into his palms.

The only option he has left is to get out of here. Right this instant.

He has the presence of mind to grab his jacket and phone and keys but then he's out the door. Through the hallway and down the stairs and out into the silent Seoul air before he can breathe again. His heart is racing. The magma sizzling beneath the surface and the world looks fake.

The dark sky. The midnight traffic trucking by and sweeping headlights over him. Like a scene from a goddamn movie.

And that makes him angrier. There's nothing here to ground him. He feels sometimes like they're flying so high chasing after their dreams, that they've forgotten what the ground looks like. They're relying on the upward push from below, stretching out, reaching in front of them for the next best thing but eventually—

Eventually that luck is going to run out.

And when they all fall, well, what will they fall to?

Will ground still be there to catch them? Or will it let their feet slip through the cracks and they all drown in faces they don't recognise and voices they've never heard and all the opportunities they didn't take. All the echoes from their past lives— memories of people and places they've forgotten. Their success a drug that washed out any remnants of who they could have been.

That's how Yoongi feels now. Standing on the curb of an intersection with a walk sign flashing at him. He's afraid if he walks he might stumble. Afraid he'll make it halfway across the road and decide he can't do it anymore, and turn to face the oncoming cars head-on. So he stays where he is. Shifting foot to foot like the pavement is burning him—unbalanced. He's unbalanced. Everything is unbalanced.

It's stranger still because part of him knows that help is a call away. That if he were to collapse right here and not move that people who care about him would find him. Because the support system he loves so much, for some reason loves him in return and he still refuses to believe it. Refuses to reach out and accept their help—to ask for it—because hasn't he already gotten far more than he deserves?

He can't bare this. He wants to kick something. To scream. To run across the street and then just keep running and never look back. Forget any of this ever happened.

But that would be selfish. And Yoongi may despise himself at the best of times, but he's come to care more about his friends than how much he hates himself; for some inexplicable reason he understands that they would be incredibly hurt if anything happened to Yoongi.

Yoongi has had to learn over the years his own value. To others, that is. Meaning he holds some form of emotional responsibility to them, and therefore must keep himself safe in order to keep them safe—and he's willing to do anything to be sure they're okay. When you're with a group of people for so long—through hardships and fights and failings and first wins and inside jokes and group hugs—your lives become so intertwined you can no longer extract yourself from the tightly knit bond.

So Yoongi doesn't run. He doesn't scream. He lets his fingers uncurl and lungs fill with air and he clutches the light post beside him tightly. He's here. Right here. With two feet planted squarely on the ground and the studio a few metres away. He's in Seoul with his best friends. His family. And they need him as much as he needs them.

And maybe Yoongi doesn't feel like he accomplished shit today. Like he's worthless and incredibly afraid of the tipping point in their careers. But that doesn't mean he can just leave it all behind.

He stumbles backwards. Away from the curb, and backs into the building on the corner. He slides down, resting his back against the wooden wall and shuts his eyes. The cold air cools the magma into rock. Present, but sturdy. Under control. He blinks hard, staving off tears, and pulls out his phone.

A dozen messages wait for him.

->or you could be yoda

->you're old and wise

->but not green or hairy

->or are you hairy? Like besides the top of your head? I guess I wouldn't know

->but yoda isn't hairy either

->he just has like whispy old man hair

->whatever, I'm bored I'm sorry hyung if I'm bothering you

->you're probably busy working, but don't work too hard! You're not a machine

->jeez what am I saying

->there's leftover soba in the fridge when you get home if you want it

Yoongi's not sure why he's crying but he is. He wipes the tears away with the back of hand and his fingers shake as he texts out a reply.

     Can you come get me from the studio?

He's not sure what he feels when he reads the answer.

->of course

•••

Jeongguk pulls on his sweater, grabs his keys and change for the bus, and is out the door before the strangeness of the request sinks in.

Yoongi wants him to get him from the studio? Why? For a moment, as Jeongguk climbs onto the bus and heads straight to the back of it, he's scared Yoongi might be drunk and doesn't want anyone else to know.

It's happened before. Except, those times Yoongi hadn't asked for help from anyone and had just stumbled home in a drunken stupor, slurring and angry at everyone. The only one he'd listened to at the time was Jimin. But this feels much different from that. Not that Jeongguk really knows, but based on the punctuation and formality of Yoongi's text he has to assume the man is sober.

Things become clear after Jeongguk hops off the bus and walks a few blocks to the studio. Yoongi is sitting on the front steps, curled in on himself like he's trying to get a grip on something. Or like he's trying to protect himself from the world caving in. Jeongguk somehow knows not to speak to Yoongi, and instead just gives him a smile and a hand up from the steps.

Yoongi doesn't look at him when Jeongguk leads him gently by the elbow towards the bus stop.

The thing is, Yoongi is pretty private person. And so is Jeongguk, if he's being honest, so he understands what it's like to suddenly need someone despite your natural state desiring to be alone. Sometimes you just need another warm body in the room so the universe doesn't feel so impossibly vast and empty and meaningless. Jeongguk thinks this is what Yoongi needs right now. The bus isn't coming for a few minutes, so the two just stand at the curb side in silence.

Occasionally a car will blow past, but Yoongi doesn't acknowledge them in the slightest. He doesn't acknowledge Jeongguk either. He's just staring absently into the dark distance at nothing. Jeongguk sits on the bench to wait, and tugs on Yoongi's ar  to encourage the older man to sit beside him—which he does. Jeongguk doesn't let his arm go, and he studies the side of Yoongi's face. It's hard to tell in this light, but it almost looks like Yoongi's eyes are red around the edges. As if he'd been crying. His mouth is open, he's breathing deeply.

And that's when Jeongguk realises what happened.

Yoongi must have had a panic attack. And he reached out to Jeongguk for help? It's been awhile since Yoongi's had one so bad he needed to tell someone about it. Even though he didn't tell Jeongguk directly, he would have known that Jeongguk could figure it.

Jeongguk's never had one himself. The closest thing he can imagine is the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach before a particularly large or important performance, where the room starts to look like it's spinning and he just needs some fresh air. But it's never like how Yoongi has it. What scares—or worries—Jeongguk the most is that it seems so unpredictable. At least Jeongguk always knows the nerves will come, but Yoongi's attacks don't appear to have a pattern. They come randomly, in different sizes, and don't seem to be brought on by any specific event. It's all in Yoongi's head, and Jeongguk knows he can't fix that for him. But at least he can be here to support him through it.

The bus comes, and as Jeongguk pays for their tickets Yoongi heads for a window seat.

Sometimes Taehyung will have an attack, or Jimin, and with them they want body contact and soft words and Jeongguk's good at that. Good at embracing people and holding them tight—but Yoongi isn't that kind of person. The way his body is turned away from Jeongguk and is looking out the window says as much. He doesn't want to talk either, which leaves Jeongguk with one choice.

Texting him.

He nudges Yoongi and receives a startled look, but he just waves his phone at Yoongi and the man gets the idea, retrieving his phone from his pocket and reading Jeongguk's message.

     are you okay?

->I'm okay now

Jeongguk stares at him in concern, and Yoongi quickly breaks his eyes away, but still holds onto his phone. He wonders if Yoongi wants to return to their apartment or if he just needs to be out out of the studio. Somewhere less cramped and suffocating. 

     do you want to go home or go somewhere else?

->Home

     okay, do you want me do anything else for you?

He knows Yoongi is unlikely to ask for anything he really wants, so he encourages him further.

     really hyung I mean it

->Could you heat up the soba for me? I'm starving

It's the smallest of requests, but Jeongguk knows that to Yoongi it probably feels like a monumental favour.

     of course

Jeongguk tugs the wire to signal their stop, and the bus chugs to a halt. Yoongi silently trails after him, like a shadow. A short, tired, honesty pretty cute shadow—with how his jacket seems to be swallowing him up it's so big. This is why it's so dangerous for Jeongguk to be around him, especially alone, because his brain keeps whispering thoughts like that. It's almost like a devil is on  his shoulder, tugging at his ear and cooing oh look at him, wouldn't you like to touch his face and stare into his eyes and kiss him? And then on the opposite shoulder, is the logical angel with its arms crossed and sour look on its face, scolding Jeongguk—you know no good will come of it. Just drama and awkwardness, you can't risk the group's stability just for one little crush. Your love life isn't everything, ya know.

They reach the apartment, and Jeongguk does his best to not pressure Yoongi into doing anything. Just smiles as softly as he can manage, careful not to appear pitying or anything akin to it. The older man settles onto the couch, and Jeongguk takes that as his cue to leave and prepare the soba.

He flips the kitchen light on, revealing an island with a bowl of browning fruit and stacks of papers that someone didn't bother to take with them to their room. They also have a CD player hooked up to a sound system, complete with bass booster, that they use to listen to their own songs as well as many, many, other artists. Jeongguk takes his leftovers out of the fridge and pours them into a bowl, setting it in the microwave and letting it run.

He leans back against the counter, grateful Yoongi can't see him here. Jeongguk's sort of freaking out, but that's fine. Totally fine. What is he supposed to do now? Obviously he's not just going to leave Yoongi alone; abandon the man when he seems to need him most. But that means Jeongguk will have to bite his tongue and avert his gaze the rest of the evening, so as to avoid making a complete fool of himself.

It used to be so much easier. Smooth sailing through shallow waters, admiring clear sparkling seas and appreciating the warmth of the sun on his cheeks. But now the ocean is raging, protesting, rising up with waves crashing onto the deck. It could capsize at any moment, and Jeongguk wouldn't know how to swim. In other words, everything was tolerable until it wasn't. Yoongi's gummy grins became overpowering. The way he stoically serves food and makes drinks and considerately cleans up for others without being asked to is mesmerising. His selflessness is practically contagious. And the way he can go from a dark cloud to a beam of sunshine in less than a second is unlike anything Jeongguk has seen before. Not to mention the way his face scrunches up in disapproval at Seokjin's jokes, or how sometimes Hoseok makes his goofiness become on par with Taehyung's.

And those are just the small things.

Jeongguk could go on for hours about Yoongi's passion. His dedication to his art, his work, his life. He could talk about how deeply Yoongi loves regardless of the mask he frequently parades around in. Jeongguk knows better than that. He can see past it. Everyone else can too, but no one ever talks about it.

When all these things started registering, Jeongguk began paying extra attention to Yoongi. Watching his every move, hanging on to each word, admiring from afar. Enamoured. But he doesn't like putting it that way. Eventually, he got yanked under the surface and started drowning in it. In everything he likes about the other man. And that's when the devil and angel appeared. That's when he saw Yoongi as a siren and himself as a helpless sailor.

The microwave beeps and Jeongguk nearly swears when the hot bowl burns his fingers. He wraps a cloth napkin around the bottom and grabs a pair of chopsticks, taking a deep breath before heading back into the battlefield.

Yoongi hasn't moved from where he left him on the couch, and he hands over the dish cautiously.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow, "You want a tip or something? C'mon, sit down."

Jeongguk clumsily goes around the coffee table to the other side of the couch, nestling his back in the corner cushions, as far from Yoongi as he can be. He can't risk anything tonight. Yoongi doesn't let him escape though, and turns his whole body to face him, his feet tucking up onto the couch. Jeongguk is hyper-aware of his own body. Where his arms are, what each and every finger is doing, how his hair is falling around his forehead. He's certain Yoongi must sense his awkwardness. His fear. This is why you can't say anything, you're already a mess, the angel on his shoulder whispers. Jeongguk agrees.

And then Yoongi initiates conversation, which is odd but he must need it so Jeongguk engages as best he can. Trying to get a handle on his fidgeting hands and voice that threatens to stutter. He asks about Jeongguk's night, where the others are, and somehow it evolves into a bizarre form of banter. Jeongguk would call it teasing, but it's almost more intimate than that. Even if it's ridiculous. It's great until Jeongguk can't take it anymore. His nerves have put him on edge, and he knows he's been laughing far too much. Because Yoongi is funny, but he's not that funny. The older man must have surely noticed Jeongguk's blushing. So he shifts on he couch, pulling his knees up and lying his head on the armrest in an attempt to hide at least part of his loony grin from his friend.

And then something soft and warm is falling across his back, over his legs and arms.

"You look cold," Yoongi explains as the blanket settles around Jeongguk.

"Thanks," Jeongguk says, pulling the blanket up over his shoulders. Hating this situation more than anything because here's Yoongi being considerate, and kind, and thoughtful, when Yoongi is the one who had a rough night, not Jeongguk.

"Hang on there kid, I want some of that too."

"You're on the opposite end of the couch," Jeongguk argues. Alarm races through him, something close to panic, because what if Yoongi lies down right next to him?

"Yeah, but I have legs," Yoongi deadpans, tugging part of the blanket over his limbs and tucking his feet against the couch behind Jeongguk's back.

The younger has never felt more relieved that Yoongi's not an avid  cuddler. If he can barely breathe with a minuscule press of Yoongi's ankles against him, he can't imagine what it would be like to be in Yoongi's arms. To have him in his. Suffocating, probably.

They exchange good nights and Jeongguk feels equal parts content and stressed. The angel and devil at war across his neck. He may have done next to nothing today, but his body takes pity on him and blesses him with sleep.

He's startled awake sometime later by Yoongi whispering bitterly at Namjoon and the other members who Jeongguk can hear stumbling inside the apartment.

"What's happening?" Jeongguk asks, rubbing at his face tiredly, seeing the guys trudge upstairs shamefully from their extended outing.

"Those idiots just got home," Yoongi informs him in a deep voice, made rough by sleep. "It's okay. Go back to sleep."

Jeongguk wipes his eyes, gazing right back at the older. The devil is shouting encouragements at him.

"Can I ask you something, hyung?"

Yoongi seems surprised, but nods.

Jeongguk is about to pour out a million thoughts and emotions. Admit to his worries and fears and inherent desire to help Yoongi. It's gripping and shaking and tugging, all too familiarly. It rattles him, things nearly escape him, but he bites it all back. Regretting having spoken at all. He should have pretended to stay asleep.

"...Never mind."

"What? You have to ask now, you can't leave me hanging like that," Yoongi presses.

"No, it's not important," Jeongguk looks away, burying his head back in the couch cushions. Ashamed of his lack of courage. The angel applauds the choice. "I'm tired."

"Fine," Yoongi gives in. But he sounds unsatisfied, and almost certainly this will be brought up again. But all Jeongguk wants to talk about is Yoongi in the first place. Even if he did have the bravery to forage on, his thoughts are far too jumbled to make any kind of sense. And what if his true feelings accidentally spill out as he confesses his concerns?

He imagines cotton stuffing his mouth and wax hardening in his ears. Blocking Yoongi out. Blocking it all out.

Fate continues to spare him from harm when he wakes up first the next morning. The sun has barely started to come up when he's sitting up from couch, slowly, so as not to jostle it and wake Yoongi. The older man is fast asleep, mouth slightly parted and chest moving up and down deeply. Jeongguk is considerably less overwhelmed in the face of a sleeping Yoongi than an awake one. There's no fear of fucking up.

But that's also why Jeongguk texted Yoongi yesterday in the first place. Because he's nervous about speaking. He snatches his phone from the table along with Yoongi's dirty bowl, then heads for the kitchen. He loads the dish into the washer, and then rests his elbows on the island. He opens up his texts, staring at his past messages with Yoongi.

He bites his tongue, and opens the Notes app instead. He can type his message out here, make sure it sounds good but not too catered, and then copy and paste a completed product into a text.

     okay so what I wanted to ask you last night was just of you're doing okay. Because I know you say you are and that's fine, but you asked me to get you from the studio and you were so silent all the way back and honestly? I was really worried. I still am. I know I'm your dongseng so maybe this isn't my place, but I hope you know I'm here for you hyung just like you've always been there for me. I know something must have happened with you and I really do want to be a support in anyway I can. And if I'm completely off base here, I'm sorry. But maybe my meaning will still come through.

     you guys ask me a lot about what the hardest part of being the maknae is and I always tell you that there's nothing especially hard. And this is true, mostly. But I guess if I had to tell the truth the hardest part of being maknae is having everyone look after you and not being expected to return the favour. But to me it doesn't feel like I'm doing a favour or doing work. I feel better when I'm with hyungs. When I make you all laugh or proud or anything like that it's the best feeling, and I want to be able to do it without just being silly. I want to do it like you guys can with maturity and my words. I really think I've learned so much, mostly because of you guys, that I can be helpful now

Jeongguk rereads it a few times, changing the bits that make no sense and deleting a few lines. He also wants it to look natural. Like a stream-of-consciousness and not a tediously planned text. Satisfied, he sends it to Yoongi.

And the devil shouts at him, and he sends another message before running it through the idiot-proofing filter.

     and maybe I also worry that you and everyone else still see me as a kid and I know I can't change being maknae and I wouldn't want to, but do you just see me as your kid brother, hyung?

The angel stamps its feet on Jeongguk, jumping up and down on his shoulder. Mistake, mistake, mistake!

In a rush, he types out a correction. Afraid to draw attention to his stupid words but even more afraid they'll be taken the wrong way. Or the right way? He's not sure.

     ignore that last part I'm not sure what I mean anymore but I did mean what I said at first

     im here for you if you want me to be

And he leaves it at that. Any more and he'll just be rambling. He's already rambling. He's already strayed from the path. Unclogged his mouth of cotton. Texting has gifted Jeongguk with a dangerous avenue to express himself. Maybe this is why he's steered clear of it for so long.

Distantly, Jeongguk hears a phone buzz in the silence. Oh, shit. He has to get out of here. The last thing he wants is for Yoongi to wake up and read his message, and then want to physically talk to him about it. Jeongguk wouldn't survive that. So he scrams, gets his keys, shoves his shoes on, and casts one final look over Yoongi who's sleeping peacefully, and then is out the door into the morning air.

The breeze bites, but it's a welcome sensation. He need to clear his head. He needs coffee and pastries and time alone.

Jeongguk ends up with an egg sandwich, rice cakes, and some fresh fruit alongside a coffee topped with whipped cream after Jeongguk had asked nicely for it.

He bites into the warm, toasty, sandwich with vigour, grinning at the taste. Jeongguk's phone lights up, and he hates that his first thought is that Yoongi would like this sandwich.

•••

Jeongguk finds him on the steps in front of the studio. Yoongi can't bare to look at him. Each moment he waited for Jeongguk to arrive made him regret ever sending the text in the first place. He doesn't want to seem fragile. He's supposed to be strong. Strong for his family. For the members. For himself. But Jeongguk doesn't look at him like he's weak. He just smiles gently at Yoongi and offers him a hand up, that the older accepts.

They're the only people on the bus. Yoongi finds it odd to be on a bus at all, honestly. It's been a long time. Nowadays, it's too dangerous for him to be anywhere near public transportation. Or near the public in general. Jeongguk hasn't spoken a word and neither has he. They're just sitting side by side, Jeongguk in the aisle seat and Yoongi staring out the window at the people clamouring outside of bars and leaving a movie theatre.

A nudge to his hip catches him off guard, and he jerks his chin over to find Jeongguk waving his phone at him. Yoongi frowns, but slips his phone out of his pocket.

->are you okay?

Yoongi glances up to find the biggest pair of brown eyes, absolutely swelling with worry. Jeongguk's forehead is creased and mouth a flatline.

     I'm okay now

Yoongi looks away, leaning his head against the window but holding his phone up in front of him. Jeongguk's typing.

->do you want to go home or go somewhere else?

     Home

->okay, do you want me do anything else for you?

And Yoongi's about to say no, he's fine, but a mother message pops up before he gets the chance.

->really hyung I mean it

     Could you heat up the soba for me? I'm starving

->of course

Yoongi shuts his phone off. Overwhelmed. But not in the same way he was before. Not like the walls are crashing in. More like the floodgates are opening and his chest is swelling with healing contentment.

A tug on his sleeve signals their stop and he hops off the bus after Jeongguk. They walk a block to their building, and are soon inside and shoving their shoes off. Jeongguk carefully sets both their pairs on the shoe rack just to appease Jimin, and then beelines to the kitchen after smiling at Yoongi assuringly.

Yoongi turns on a lamp, and he realises it's strange that he can't hear anyone else in the house. It's not even one in the morning yet, certainly everyone else is still awake. Yoongi may have an abnormally nocturnal pattern, but the others certainly aren't perfect either.

Shortly, Jeongguk returns with a bowl of hot soba and chopsticks, and hands them to Yoongi. He stares at him for a second, as if waiting for something.

"You want a tip or something? C'mon, sit down," Yoongi says. Jeongguk sits down on the couch as far away from Yoongi as possible, which leads to the older bringing his legs up and turning to face the younger, soba resting in his lap. "Where is everyone?"

Jeongguk shrugs, nervously clearing his throat, "I don't know. They left at like seven saying they were going to dinner and haven't come back."

"Why didn't you go with?"

Jeongguk shrugs again.

"Did you eat?"

"Yeah," Jeongguk gestures at Yoongi's bowl. "Those are my leftovers. But I though you might want them since you don't usually eat when you're at the studio."

If it were anyone else, Yoongi would chastise them for not eating enough, and that they shouldn't worry about Yoongi, he's a full grown man for godssake. What strikes him as odd though, is Jeongguk having leftovers at all. He's the guy who'll eat two tubs of fried chicken in one sitting, plus mashed potatoes, on the regular. Like it's nothing. Jeongguk steals food from everyone else constantly. Jeongguk doesn't just have leftovers. And if he did, they would definitely not be up for grabs.

But Yoongi doesn't say anything. Jeongguk is staring at him like he wants to say something. But Yoongi already knows he won't.

"What have you been doing all night, then?" Yoongi asks, changing the subject.

"Not much," Jeongguk curls his legs up on the couch, keeping his attention on Yoongi. "Mostly Overwatch and Fortnite."

"Are you any good?"

Jeongguk laughs, and his entire face lights up for a brief moment. And fleeting though it is, it's infectious. Yoongi is smiling too.

"I would like to think I'm pretty okay."

"You're better than pretty okay," Yoongi tells him, surprised at his own words.

"You've never even seen me play."

"Yes I have."

"Okay, but you don't understand how the game works so you wouldn't know whether or not I was good."

"You didn't die when I watched," Yoongi retorts. "That's already better than I can do."

"That's just because your a button-masher," Jeongguk laughs again.

"I'll mash your fucking buttons," Yoongi says through a particularly large bite of soba.

"You're making a mess, hyung," Jeongguk teases, shoving Yoongi's knee with his foot.

"Your face is a mess," Yoongi fires back.

Jeongguk tilts his head back and laughs at the ceiling. It wasn't even that funny, but Jeongguk can't seem to regain his composure. Every time he looks at Yoongi holding up noodles between his chopsticks he bursts into laughter again. He ends up turning his face to the side, laying it on the arm rest, picking at a couch with one hand and avoiding eye contact with Yoongi altogether. But he's grinning. Teeth and all.

Yoongi's bowl is empty, so he sets the dish in the coffee table and grabs the blanket from the back of the couch. He unfolds it, then throws it out over Jeongguk.

"You look cold."

"Thanks," Jeongguk says, pulling the blanket up over his shoulders.

"Hang on there kid, I want some of that too."

"You're on the opposite end of the couch."

"Yeah, but I have legs," Yoongi states as of it were obvious. He cushions his head on the arm rest like Jeongguk, and stretches his legs out to tuck between Jeongguk and the couch cushions. He tugs the end of the blanket up to his waist and calls it good.

"Night, hyung," Jeongguk says softly.

"Night, Guk."

The world feels real again. Unlike the chaotic spinning through a vortex of fear from earlier—this is solid. The couch is beneath him. His legs up against Jeongguk's back. His stomach full of noodles not nerves.

Yoongi is far from falling asleep though. He's been awake for probably only ten hours, and even if his batteries were drained after his whole...ordeal earlier, the soba and a few minutes talking with Jeongguk have recharged him.

Yoongi does fall asleep, only to wake up a few hours later to the sound of the front door opening. He cranes his neck to face the entrance, and Namjoon's head pokes in, the other members behind him giggling and talking.

"Hey!" Yoongi hisses. "Shut up, Jeongguk's sleeping."

Alarmed, Namjoon hushes the others but it's pointless as they stumble inside. Taehyung and Jimin are clinging to each other, snorting and laughing uncontrollably. Hoseok and Jin are considerably more composed, but Namjoon tripping over his own shoes and crashing to the ground is really just the icing on the cake. Yoongi rolls his eyes. Typical. This is why he sleeps at the studio so often.

He feels Jeongguk shift against his legs as the others finally head upstairs, his eyes peeking open.

"What's happening?"

"Those idiots just got home," Yoongi looks across their blanket covered bodies at the maknae. "It's okay. Go back to sleep."

Jeongguk wipes his eyes, gazing right back at the older.

"Can I ask you something, hyung?"

Yoongi nods tentatively.

Jeongguk opens his mouth, and then shuts it again.

"Never mind."

"What? You have to ask now, you can't leave me hanging like that."

"No, it's not important," Jeongguk looks away, burying his head back in the couch cushions. "I'm tired."

"Fine."

The next morning, Jeongguk is gone by the time Yoongi manages wake up. The sun is blinding, cutting through the curtains and across the room. He can hear chatter from the kitchen. His dishes have been cleared, and his phone sits on the coffee table. Yoongi grabs it, and there's more texts from Jeongguk.

It's common knowledge that Yoongi isn't much of a texter either. He'll reply far more swiftly than Jeongguk, but no one expects him to message others just on a whim. And they all know not to bother him with copious amounts of random texts either.

It's not exactly that he dislikes it. It's not even that he'd simply prefer to talk in person than text. It's that texting is so much easier, so much less physically draining than speaking, that if he starts picking up the habit he reckons it'll be impossible to stop. He'll be one of those obnoxious millennials that texts someone who's sitting across the room from him. Who gets caught up in having an entire conversation via gifs and emojis. Weirdly, the entire experience sounds fun. New and exciting, but it's a temptation he's hesitant to indulge in.

Despite the underlying interest, Yoongi still isn't fond of it simply on principal. He has to maintain some sort of image.

So why isn't Yoongi annoyed to read through the maknae's novel length text?

->okay so what I wanted to ask you last night was just of you're doing okay. Because I know you say you are and that's fine, but you asked me to get you from the studio and you were so silent all the way back and honestly? I was really worried. I still am. I know I'm your dongseng so maybe this isn't my place, but I hope you know I'm here for you hyung just like you've always been there for me. I know something must have happened with you and I really do want to be a support in anyway I can. And if I'm completely off base here, I'm sorry. But maybe my meaning will still come through.

->you guys ask me a lot about what the hardest part of being the maknae is and I always tell you that there's nothing especially hard. And this is true, mostly. But I guess if I had to tell the truth the hardest part of being maknae is having everyone look after you and you not being expected to return the favour. But to me it doesn't feel like I'm doing a favour or doing work. I feel better when I'm with hyungs. When I make you all laugh or proud or anything like that it's the best feeling, and I want the be able to do it without just being silly. I want to do like you guys can with maturity and my words and I really think I've learned so much that I can be helpful now

->and maybe too I worry that you and everyone else still see me as a kid and I know I can't change being maknae and I wouldn't want to, but do you just see me as your kid brother, hyung?

->ignore that last part I'm not sure what I mean anymore but I did mean what I said at first

->im here for you if you want me to be

Speechless. Wordless. Confused. Yoongi feels something he can't identify but mostly his mind is trying to decipher the hidden implications of Jeongguk's message like a treasure map. And can't 'ignore that last part' because that last part says "do you just see me as your kid brother?" and Yoongi, most certainly, does not.

And he's not sure why he feels so, so, strange as reads the messages again. Jeongguk wants to be there for him. Jeongguk wants Yoongi to know that he cares a lot about him. And Yoongi feels mad that the guy didn't tell this to him all last night. They could have talked about it! He could have assured Jeongguk that's he's not a kid to Yoongi, hasn't been for a long time. And Yoongi probably could have gotten some much needed consolation from him in return.

But on the other hand, Yoongi gets it. It's far less intimidating to say something from behind a screen than face-to-face.

The voices in the kitchen grow louder, and Yoongi gets up. If Jeongguk is in there, Yoongi's going to drag his ass out and make them talk.

He shuffles down the hall and peeks into the kitchen, discovering Jimin and Hoseok scooping rice out of the cooker. They look guilty, and Yoongi's not sure why.

"What's going on in here?"

"Uhh...nothing?" Hoseok answers as he dumps the rice into his bowl. He shuts the lid of the cooker and Jimin pulls out the kimchi from the fridge.

"Did you just finish the rice?" Yoongi asks, catching on.

"...Maybe," Hoseok admits.

Jimin stirs the kimchi in with his own bowl of rice, his portion massive, and begins eating it without looking at Yoongi.

"Jimin," Yoongi leans a hand against the wall. "Were you guys planning on not making a fresh batch and leaving the rest of us poor bastards to starve?"

Jimin swallows slowly, his large innocent eyes not fooling Yoongi one bit.

"...No."

Yoongi crosses his arms, "Make some more rice, guys. And where's Jeongguk?"

"Why do you need him?" Hoseok wonders curiously, taking a stool at the island and eating his breakfast.

"It doesn't matter why I need him, where is he?" Yoongi's tone is harsher than he intended.

"I don't know," Jimin shrugs. "What happened?"

"What do you mean, 'what happened'?"

"You seem mad," Hoseok notes.

"I'm not mad," Yoongi defends. This earns him two sets of dubious looks. "I'm not! I just need to talk to him about something. And how are you guys not hungover? You were out late."

"I was the designated alcohol strategist," Hoseok grins. "I made sure we ate at regular intervals and had lots of water. Therefore, minimising hangover effects while maximising our drinking experience."

"Wonderful," Yoongi comments. "But seriously, where the hell is Jeongguk?"

"He was leaving right when we came downstairs. We didn't get a chance to ask," Jimin informs him with a full mouth. "But I get the feeling he wanted to be alone or else he would have left a note."

Yoongi's next question slips out without permission. "Has he started texting you guys more often?"

"What do you mean 'more often'? I don't if that kid's ever texted me," Hoseok says, scooping up a large bite of kimchi. "Or that he even knows how to. Why?"

Yoongi shrugs, "No reason. I was just thinking I could reach him that way."

Jimin snorts into his food, "You? Text someone? Who are you and what have you done with Yoongi-hyung?"

Yoongi shoots him a glare, then turns to leave the kitchen. "Shut up, Jimin."

Chuckles erupt behind him, but he pointedly ignores them as goes back to the couch and the looming text messages. There's no magma in him yet, but there is a burning sensation in his every move. In his bones. A steady sizzling in his chest as he rakes his brain for a clue on how to respond to Jeongguk.

It's common for people to want to avoid or skate around the topic they care about the most. Which is how Yoongi decides what to answer.

     You're not a kid brother to me. And I would love to have you impart your wisdom on me.

And he, begrudgingly, but almost with a thrill, adds a smiley face.

•••

->You're not a kid brother to me. And I would love to have you impart your wisdom on me.

-> :)

Jeongguk blinks. Did Min Yoongi, also known as Suga, also known as Agust D, D-boy of Daegu, just send him, Jeon Jeongguk of Busan, a smiley face? And not even an emoji, just a colon and a parenthesis. It's a very intentional way to send a face. Jeongguk's unfamiliar with texting etiquette, so he wonders if there's a significant difference in meaning between an emoji and a typed face. Maybe he's over analysing again, but it makes it seem more personal this way. In Jeongguk's extremely unqualified opinion.

The grin that breaks out on his face must truly be ridiculous for the waiter to comment on it from all the way across the restaurant. Granted, the place is empty besides Jeongguk.

"That's a lovestruck smile if I've ever seen one," he says, coming over to pour more coffee in Jeongguk's mug. "Girlfriend?"

"What?" Jeongguk blushes. "No, no, nothing like that. Just a friend."

The waiter hums unconvinced, "Want more whipped cream?"

"Sure, thank you."

He laughs, "You sure? It looks like you got enough sweetness going on, kid. But I'll get you more anyway."

Jeongguk would glare or correct him, except he feels practically giddy and can't get control over his face muscles. By the time the waiter goes into the kitchen and returns with the cream, Jeongguk still hasn't composed himself enough to answer Yoongi. He's just staring at the message. He said plainly, directly, with no ambiguity, that Jeongguk isn't a kid to him. And that he's interested in Jeongguk's thoughts; his knowledge.

Jeongguk knows exactly what to say. He snaps a picture of his food and coffee and captions it.

     jk's Life Lesson #1) coffee of any kind is better with whip cream and a big breakfast

Then he adds:

     have you eaten? should I bring you something?

The dots appear, and Jeongguk's heart races in anticipation.

->Bring me sweet bread of some kind

Jeongguk smiles.

     jk's Life Lesson #2) if you can have bread, have it. It's one of the world's wonders

     ill get you some sweet bread

->Thanks

Jeongguk takes a drink of his coffee, barely caring that it burns his tongue a bit.

->Hoseok and Jimin those bastards tried to get away with eating the rest of the rice this morning

     and not making more?

->Exactly. Mutiny

     they're gonna get voted off the island for that stunt

->I caught them in the act, and I can hear them in the kitchen. I think Hoseok spilled a bunch of rice trying to make more.

     do you think they'll clean up the mess?

->You think Jimin would let slide? Not a chance in hell

     well if he can be swayed to not remake the rice who knows what he'll do

->What happened to our good little chimchim?

     fame has ruined him

->tsk tsk

Jeongguk smiles around a mouthful of rice cake, his insides fluttering and maybe a little nauseous but that's okay. Because he's talking to Yoongi. Talking back and forth like they never have before. He can't imagine Yoongi saying any of this in real life. The guy is so stubbornly calm most the time.

And yet, half the reason Jeongguk lo—

He stops his train of thought. He's entering treacherous territory. Tempting fate. Jeongguk should be going through a Yoongi detox, but here is soaking more and more of him up. Wax and cotton won't do him any good now, it's in his veins.

->Get your ass home with that food I'm starving

Jeongguk smiles, shovelling fruit into his mouth faster and calling the waiter over to place the order for Yoongi.

•••

A dozen days pass by and Yoongi has grown so accustomed to Jeongguk texting him that he now is constantly checking his phone for a message, and if he doesn't receive one he sends one of his own. Letting them pile up for the younger to read when he gets the chance.

     Did you see that shitty new coffee shop they're putting in?

     I hate chains

     And big corporations

     I should write a song about it

     But Mr. Bang probably wouldn't like that much

     What do you think?

Of all the people to ask, Taehyung has requested Yoongi accompany him shopping. They're driving to a small district on the outskirts of Seoul, driver and escort in the sedan to ensure their safety.

"What other kind of art do you like Yoongi-hyung?" Taehyung asks him, rolling the window down, back up, and then down again. He has a large, round, pair of sunglasses pushed up into his hair and an tied ascot around his neck. "Besides music, I mean."

"I assumed you meant besides music. And, I don't know, the pictures you take are pretty cool," Yoongi considers it a moment. "I do really like Jeongguk's videos. His vlog things. Those are really cool."

"Oh! Yes! Osaka was so pretty! Or do you just like seeing me and Jimin's pretty faces?" Taehyung laughs, bumping his shoulder into Yoongi's.

The older laughs, "No, I like seeing how Jeongguk edits it all together. How he layers the music over it and how well it seems to suit each clip at the right moment. Everything is so in sync with each other. Kairos, almost," Yoongi reflects, his fingers itching his coat pocket.

"Kairos? What's that?"

"It's this concept of like...appealing to the right thing at the right time. Saying something at the perfect moment, making the perfect action or choice. It can be up to chance, but I think usually it's up to the individual to take advantage of the opportunities they're presented with. Just going for it," Yoong scratches his head. "Anyway, all I meant was that Jeongguk is able to achieve that with his editing. To me, at least."

Taehyung lets his fingers dance in the wind outside the window, smiling up into the sunlight. His hair blows away from his forehead and his face practically shines. "What other vloggers do you like? Do you watch some on YouTube?"

"Oh, no," Yoongi corrects himself. "I don't actually watch vlogs. Just Jeongguk's. he showed me the one you filmed? Where you guys were on the train tracks."

"Oh! He showed you that? I'm surprised. He didn't even show me it."

"What?" Yoongi asks, incredulous. "Why not? He edited it."

"I know he did, but he said he didn't want to show me yet because it wasn't perfect yet. I mean," Taehyung shuts the window. Letting their voices echo in the car rather than be whisked away. "I saw the footage, of course, but that's not the same thing. Did he finish it?"

"I...don't know," Yoongi says, brows furrowing. "He just sent me it and didn't say anything about it. I told him I liked it though."

"Wait," Taehyung holds his hand up. "Can you repeat that?"

"I told him I liked it?" Yoongi repeats in confusion.

"No," Taehyung waves his hand. "What you said before that. About Jeongguk sending it to you?"

Fuck. Jeongguk and him have established an unspoken rule over the past two weeks: They don't mention they're texting. Not for like, any specific reason, per se, more so because they have mutual understanding that if the other members found out they were avid texters of each other they would then be expected to text everyone else, too. And neither of them want that.

"Er, yeah, he sent it to me—" Yoongi tells Taehyung, then quickly covers their tracks. "After I watched it with him on his laptop. I just asked him to email it so I could watch it again later."

"Oh," Taehyung slumps back in his seat. "I got excited for a second. I thought maybe Gukkie was texting all of a sudden."

Speaking of, Yoongi wants to check his phone. But to do so now would be blatantly obvious and he can't risk being caught in a lie.

A lie. Is that what this has become? It doesn't feel like him and Jeongguk are lying—they're just withholding information. Keeping it private. And there's nothing wrong with wanting some damn privacy. But what do they even need privacy for? All they're sending each other is memes and music and ideas and existential questions and...

A lot of secrets. Yoongi realises with a start. Jeongguk and him are baring their souls for each other. Admitting to aspirations they have that maybe the other members wouldn't understand. They've bonded over things like food, but also things like how group interviews are intimidating. How they sometimes feels like imposters, looking beautiful and strong on stage but then breaking down the instant they step behind the curtain. They're terribly different people, but each confession and parallel experience is followed by a powerful sense of validation. They aren't alone in this. Everything they experience is real, it matters, and it's okay.

Okay to feel shitty.

Okay to question the reality of world.

Okay to break down and freak out and consider abandoning BigHit and just running wild across oceans and continents.

Okay as long they tell each other first.

When Taehyung and Yoongi unload from the sedan, hats and shades on, Yoongi pulls his phone out. The magma in him boils at the sight of several messages.

Lately, the magma isn't something threatening to burst destructively and burn down cities and lives, instead its oozing through crevices and filling in any unstable cracks that may have formed inside him over the years. It's reconstructing, not demolishing. Preserving and protecting.

->hyung I love you but I gotta tell you that you've written at least a dozen songs shitting on big corporations already

->remember the cyphers?

->all you've done is rap about how you don't give a fuck about their cash because you made it to the top anyways

->jk's Life Lesson #27) know when you've made your point heard. Know when you've done done enough

If this were a movie Yoongi's phone would drop to concrete and the screen would shatter. But this isn't a movie. Alternatively, Yoongi's fingers curl around his phone so tightly his knuckles turn white.

"Yoongi-hyung?" Taehyung looks back at him, openly worried.

"I'm fine," he grunts. Shaking himself and tagging after the younger. Tae pushes his sunglasses down over his eyes and smiles.

"If you say so, come on. I want you to try on some berets. I think you'd look cute," and he takes Yoongi by the arm, guiding him into the mall.

They reach the boutique and Taehyung chats with the employees like he knows them, and before Yoongi can object he's being bombarded by boxes of berets with elderly women parting his hair different ways—Taehyung plopping different hats on his head—and he's directed to look in the mirror and tell him which he prefers.

He manages to mumble out answers and finds himself leaving the store with two berets he's not sure he'll ever wear, but Taehyung's gigantic boxy grin almost makes it worth it. They go around to clearance sales and special deals, basically any shop with a multi-coloured signs and a promise of a discount. Yoongi is almost enjoying himself, stocking up on pens and sharpies and buying a new pair of gloves, but then his phone buzzes in his jacket and his stomach drops to the floor.

Something must happen to his face because Taehyung is suddenly guiding him to a seat and taking Yoongi's hands in his own, warming them with his palms. Their escort is hovering nearby, but Taehyung tells him to to give them space.

Yoongi's feels the tears on his chin before he realises they're coming from his own eyes. Taehyung frowns, eyes huge with worry, and begins rubbing circles into Yoongi's hands.

"Hyung, what's going on?" He asks softly.

But Yoongi can't answer, and instead starts fucking sobbing. God he hates himself sometimes. Creating a scene out in a public store, with strangers around, probably staring at him now. Taehyung removes his face mask and hat and sits up on his knees to pull Yoongi into a hug. And usually Yoongi would push him away, but he's not panicking right now. That's not what this is. He's fucking scared. At a loss. So he buries his face in Taehyung's brand new coat, the tag still hanging off the sleeve, and shamelessly lets his tears and snot drip onto it as he pours his feelings out.

Taehyung rubs his back and whispers gentle, nonsense words and Yoongi appreciates it so much. This isn't the kind of comfort he normally craves but, in this moment, it's exactly what he needs. He clutches Taehyung's back and shakes. His teeth are practically fucking chattering by the time the tears run dry. But he stays there and Tae doesn't let him go, even though his legs must surely be giving out by now considering his awkward position on the floor.

"Breathe," Taehyung suggests, no pressure in his voice. Just assurance.

So Yoongi does. In and out and in again. Fuck. He's still terrified, but less so than before. Less alone.

After a few more breaths, Taehyung sits back on his heels and wipes Yoongi's face with his ascot. His sunglasses are long since abandoned to the floor along with Yoongi's things.

"There, all dry."

He looks at Yoongi a long moment, and he knows Taehyung's waiting for some kind of explanation. Fuck it. He's already made a mess of himself, he's already made a mess of this texting relationship with Jeongguk. He may as well let it all out.

"I think I love Jeongguk," he whispers, the words slurring together as his body threatens to burst back into tears.

Taehyung's head shakes in confusion, he brushes Yoongi's hair back from his face with soft fingers.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," Yoongi blinks hard, looking away and then back again. "I mean I think love him, Tae," his voice breaks, "like, a lot."

Understanding dawns on Taehyung's face, and the moment it does Yoongi starts crying again.

"Oh, hyung," Tae pulls him in for another hug.

Yoongi's eyes are dry but his body is heaving. Like it's rejecting the poisonous promise of pain that being in love has injected him with. He's not angry. He's not sad. He's disappointed in himself for letting this happen. He wonders if saw it coming, and just let it happen anyway. 

"What do I do?" He whimpers into Taehyung's shoulder.

"That's up to you, hyung," Taehyung whispers. "But I think you should tell him the truth. You can't go on like this."

Yoongi doesn't even care that his voice is perpetually breaking, "But w—what if...if he...shuts me out? What if..." Some more tears emerge.

"Yoongi, you can't get caught up in the maybes. There's infinite possibilities but only one real answer. Wouldn't you rather just know what it is?"

Yoongi shakes his head, "No! What if...? The one real answer...the answer is something bad? At least, right now, I can pretend there's a chance."

Taehyung pulls back again, and wipes away the last of Yoongi's tears.

"You can't play pretend forever, this is reality."

And Taehyung's absolutely right. There's a cushioned bench beneath him in a small shoe store in a mall in the Seoul suburbs. And his phone is burning a hole in a his pocket, threatening to burn Yoongi. Insisting he reply. The feelings he has for Jeongguk are real. And the conversations they've had, texting or not, are incredibly real. He could replay most of them in his head like a VHS tape. It all happened. He's here. This is real.

Yoongi wipes his own face, and glances up to Taehyung.

"Thank you, Tae, and I'm sorry about making your coat gross."

Taehyung shrugs, "It's okay. I was gonna wash it when we got home anyways. What matters is that you got a good cry in and let some feelings out. You ready to go home?"

Yoongi gets up, grabbing his belongings and new hats up off the floor. "Yeah, okay."

In the car back home, Taehyung studies him carefully before inquiring, "What brought this realisation on? Or have you known for awhile and it's just been growing?"

"Jeongguk texted me and said...well, he said jokingly that he loves me in response to something and it just...came crashing in on me, I guess."

"So that fucker is texting, I knew it! He was grinning at his damn phone all day yesterday and—" Taehyung spirals into complaints about Jeongguk's lack of attentiveness to their hang outs, and as he rambles Yoongi realises that Jeongguk is engaged to thoroughly in their conversations that he'll go so far as to try and ignore Taehyung—and succeed. And Taehyung is hard to ignore when he really wants to be listened to.

What this means, Yoongi isn't sure. But what Tae says about Jeongguk's clever tricks to hide his phone and text while with Taehyung sure brings a smile to Yoongi's face, in spite of it all. Or perhaps, more accurately, because of it.

•••

Jeongguk's forehead crashes to the table with a thump, the angel on his shoulder screaming critsim at him. He's pretty sure he fucked up. The past few days, he's stopped actively screening every text message he sends which he's now realising is huge fucking mistake on his part. Because now there a text out there, with the words I love you, sent to Yoongi. Context doesn't matter. The point is that insinuating in any way that Jeongguk could maybe love him is a dangerous fucking game. Because now he's put the thought in Yoongi's head, he's associated himself with love, and—and—there's just so many ways this could go wrong.

He's starting to give into the siren's calls.

Jeongguk's home in the gaming room, where a huge TV takes up one wall and an assortment of old Play Stations and an Xbox sit below it. He's curled up in the corner on the large couch, buried in pillows. His laptop is in front of him, but his phone is in his hand.

     hyung I love you but I gotta tell you that you've written at least a dozen songs shifting in big corporations already

     remember the cyphers?

     all you've done is rap about how you don't give a fuck about their cash because made it to the top anyways

     jk's Life Lesson #27) know when you've made your point heard. Know when you've done done enough

Jeongguk wonders if he buried the words fast enough underneath his other messages. If Yoongi will even think twice about it. Maybe it's not a big deal, and Jeongguk can relax. He runs a hand anxiously through his hair, before sighing in defeat and pulling his computer back into his lap.

Hoseok sent him a dance video yesterday of a group of girls from Russia covering one of their dances, and since then Jeongguk's been sucked into watching other people perform the very same moves they've dedicated months to mastering. Drilling each step, thrust, flutter, and pop into their bones, practically engraving it on their skin. Counts of four, eight, two— what have you—so many different combinations for any given dance. Jeongguk doesn't even have to think dancing anymore once he's mastered it. Granted, he can't recall dances from a few years ago that they no longer perform, but who has brain space for that? No one. Well, except Taehyung who has the memory of an elephant.

Jeongguk puts his ear buds back in and fires up the next video, a group of seven people performing DNA in a public square. He smiles the whole time he watches it. It's refreshing to just appreciate the choreography for the art that it is rather than sweating and panting through it, with aching muscles and a dry mouth. How bizarre it is to see people learn their moves, right down to the facial expressions, just for fun. Not that Jeongguk's saying it's not fun—it is—but it's taken time for him to develop the skill set and appreciation of it that he has today. When this all began, dancing was a tedious, endless, almost lethal process. Every 5am alarm and call to the dance studio filled him with dread, until gradually it faded away. His confidence grew, and things became effortless once he put in the hard work to make them so.

But the pressure is still very real. He's feels that every day. The music industry is toxic with expectations of perfection, accepting nothing less than flawless from any given group or idol. Pampered and pruned and painted picture perfect. They work so hard, all of them, to be everything their audience and their company and their competition and critics expect them to be. There's no room for mistakes. No room to breathe. Every day Jeongguk lets the idea of screwing up float around in his brain. How would they react if he just didn't dance? If he changed the lyrics as he sang, or spoke off script?

The format of their fame is synthesised into their personal lives, brainwashing them into presenting only the best versions of themselves to each other. Whether they're in public or not. Namjoon does his best to make sure they regularly practice stripping away their stage personas and embrace their true selves. It's why he frequents the Seoul Forest and the Han river. It's why Taehyung and Jimin stay up late together. It's why Jeongguk makes films and it's why Yoongi plays piano.

With a huge breath, Jeongguk takes his phone up again and sends another message.

     you could talk about how hard it is to be honest with ourselves

     how the standards for us are nearly unachievable, but we push ourselves so the limit and are able to reach them anyway

     it's unfair that we have to live this way to be successful, but we're grateful to be here anyway

     talk about the toll fame takes on us now that we have achieved it

     i think you could make some hard verses with that

No reply comes, but that's fine. Jeongguk has videos to watch and a shower to take.

The answer comes much later at night, Yoongi never came home, though Taehyung did and the first thing the guy did was tell Jeongguk that Yoongi's staying at the studio tonight.

Jeongguk's about to give Yoongi a hard time about that, when the older beats him to it.

->Yes I know I should come home and rest but no I'm not going to

->I got a bunch of ideas while I was out with Taehyung

->And your idea is good too, I'm writing that down. You make a good point that now that we have a recognisable brand there's a ton of pressure to maintain that reputation 

     just don't pull an all-nighter hyung

->You mean like you did yesterday?

     you got me there

->Can I ask you something?

Jeongguk's heart races, scared that Yoongi might question his feelings. Or inquire about why Jeongguk texts him. Because they've talked about pretty much everything. Except for that.

     of course

->What's up with you and taking the bus?

->Why do you take it at night, going no where?

     it gives me time to think. Peace of mind, too

     when I was little I took the bus with my mom everywhere since we only had one car, and my dad took that to work. we'd go to stores and out to eat, and my mom would have me sit in her lap until I got too big and then I'd sit next to her

     there were lots of times where I fell asleep on her shoulder and we'd reach our bus stop, but instead of waking me up she'd just stay on and we'd keep traveling the loop so i could sleep

->Your sleeping habits were this bad even as a kid?

     you're one to talk, but yes they were. I had a lot of nightmares though, it wasn't on purpose

->About what?

     skeletons. It sounds dumb. But I had dreams of these skeletons that glowed purple chasing me around almost every night, and i could feel their bony fingers grabbing onto me. I'd keep running away. they would scream at me, or make this weird chattering sound, and I'd cover my ears while I ran but I could never run fast enough

->Do you know where they came from?

     no, but I still get them sometimes. and when I do I usually leave the house and go outside. they always catch me when I'm inside

->Guk I'm so sorry? That sounds terrible I can't even imagine

     it's okay, I'm less scared now. I know they're not real. I get outta the house more from habit than necessity

->Take me with you next time

It's not a question. It's a request. And Jeongguk feels dumb for how warm he feels from the idea that Yoongi genuinely cares. He's been in bed for an hour now, and he sits up with a pillow propped up against the wall to offer him support.

     okay

     how was shopping?

->Tae made me get berets

     no shit, did you?

->I hate to admit that I did

Jeongguk laughs.

     that's amazing please wear them

->I can't. They go against everything I believe in

     and what exactly is that? all you believe in is lamb chops and rapping

->I take offence to that

     really

->Yes, really. I'll have you know that I take great pride in my belief that socks should be matching and that you're gonna have the most successful solo career of any of us

Jeongguk groans, rolling his eyes fondly. This is a recurring argument between them. Yoongi won't stop bringing up the inevitability of Bangtan's end, and how they'll each do solo music when the time comes. And he's convinced that Jeongguk will concur the world with his voice.

     i can't produce or compose for shit but you can rap, produce, compose, and write all on your own. and so can namjoon and hoseok-hyung, the rap line has the future in the bag not me

->You forget that we'll be the first who have to enlist Guk, with us and Seojin-hyung out of the picture it'll be you

     what about Jimin and Tae? you picking favourites?

Yoongi sends an eye roll emoji, which honestly isn't even necessary because Jeongguk was already imagining him doing it anyway.

->No, I think you'll all do great. But your air of mystery and pretty face are a huge selling point

     air of mystery? pretty face? i think you're talking about yourself yoongi

->Nah

->That face you make when you're tying to hold back a smirk is unstoppable

     unstoppable? what are you even talking about

->Honestly I don't know, but Guk, you're gonna do great

     why do you act like you're not? people love your songs, people love you

Jeongguk rolls his head, cracking his neck. Yoongi's typing dots keep popping up and then dissapearing again. He keeps starting a message and then deleting it.

     what's the hesitation?

->I'm just not sure how to phrase this

     don't worry about it, just go for it

->What if I stop making music after we're done

Jeongguk has to read the text again. And again. Yoongi? Stop making music?

     i don't understand?

->I don't either. I don't know. Sometimes I feel like I've had my fill, if that makes sense. I've done this so long, from the streets to stadiums, I've made music and sold it and loved it and lived it. But I'm scared that my love will run out. I'm worried my passion will run dry and I'll just start making shit music because it's all I fucking know how to do

->It's my only real skill besides being unintentionally awkward and rude, and I've relied on it my whole life. I don't want to start to hate it so I wonder if I should just stop. After all this runs out.

There's so many things Jeongguk can think of to counter Yoongi's argument. So many reasons Yoongi absolutely should pursue his own music career later on. And Jeongguk must admit that some of those reasons are purely selfish. As long as they're both in the industry they'll have to stay in contact. They'll be expected to support one another and on occasion work together. Jeongguk could be sure they won't drift apart, trekking down different paths that won't intersect.

But also, Jeongguk pulls the blankets on his bed up over his legs, he gets it. Just like he was saying before, the system in broken. The industry is toxic. But them, as individuals, are not. Their fans, are not. Those things are pure and strong, and Yoongi can't forget that.

     jk's Life Lesson #28) don't forget the lessons you've already learned.

     your first love is music. you might have drifted from it, tried other things or been forced to abandon it, but it always called to you and it's always been there for you. if, when this era comes to an end, you need to step away and take a breather you absolutely should. you don't need to cling onto it out of a sense of obligation, you are free to let go and move on as you please. but don't be scared to let music back into your life. always know it's there to catch you if you fall

->Thanks, Guk

->Not to radically change the topic but Superman or Batman

Jeongguk smiles at his phone, any unrest he's felt today has long since faded into the past. Yoongi has that affect on him. No matter how hard the day has been, no matter what crappy news article he read or sad movie he watched, these nighttime conversations with him make him feel better. It's like he's sucked the helium out of a balloon and is swelling with warmth and positivity. Even if their topic of choice isn't all that happy.

The back and forth is as smooth as the push and pull of the tide. The rise and fall of the sun and moon. The angel and devil balanced on his shoulder are relatively quiet and he no longer is a sailor lost at sea, steering clear of sirens. Jeongguk is just himself. And Yoongi is just Yoongi. No strings attached. No façades. Plain words.

     spiderman

->Fuck off. I should have known you'd pick him even if he wasn't a goddamn choice

->Batman for me

     well no duh obviously you'd pick batman

->Why is that obvious?

     stoic, strong, tough guy, pretends nothing gets to him but really inside he just wants to be appreciated for being himself. he has a batcave you have a genius lab

     which, you are, by the way. you're appreciated just for being you. if you couldn't rap or make music for shit and i still knew you id still |

Jeongguk pauses. The only way that it makes sense to finish this sentence is by putting another love you into the world. Into the space between him and Yoongi. A space that grows smaller with each passing day, yet Jeongguk still feels like they're universes apart. An ocean of distance between them. For as much as they've said, there's countless things that they haven't.

Which is why Jeongguk has to start closing that gap.

•••

Things are escalating quickly and Yoongi is starting to freak the fuck out again. Their banter has always bordered on flirtatious. He's toed the line since this all began, and he's interpreted hundreds of Jeongguk's messages that way too, whether it was intentional or not. But the number of winky faces and hearts they've exchanged the past two days is reaching ridiculous heights, not to mention that Jeongguk can't seem to stop talking about all these things he wants to with Yoongi.

From baking cookies to getting drunk to traveling to Daegu and meetings Yoongi's family—Jeongguk has mentioned doing it. He's listed out all the ways to properly enjoy the beach in the summer time, and informed Yoongi that he'd gladly spread sunscreen all over his vampire-like complexion so he won't burn. At first Yoongi assumed it was all hypotheticals, but then Jeongguk outright invited him to try that new goddamn coffee shop that they both love to hate, and Yoongi couldn't say no.

And they'd eaten out and Jeongguk had gotten whipped cream on both their coffees and he'd fucking paid for Yoongi and now Yoongi doesn't know how to respond. So he just keeps saying yes because it's his first instinct. It's habit. It's what his stupid fucking heart desires and so he keeps going on walks with Jeongguk. And they rode the bus last night for two hours together until they got kicked off. And they sat in Yoongi's studio and worked on their own projects, silently enjoying the others' presence.

The dumbest thing about it all is that they sat on the fucking bus and just texted each other. Even when Jeongguk rested his head on Yoongi's shoulder and the older man could see what was Jeongguk typing before he sent it, they just communicated that way. Fuck talking.

And now they're eating out at a restaurant with everyone else, Yoongi's sat in the centre and Jeongguk is diagonal him, both engrossed in their phones.

     Just you wait. These fuckers are about to hand me the plate of meat and are expecting me to grill it without being asked.

->well won't you do it anyway? you whine when anyone else cooks it

     I don't whine

     Okay maybe I do.

->see

     You would all starve without me

->that or we'd eat partially raw meat 

->it wouldn't be nearly as good

->namjoon-hyung would cook it with intensity

->but yours tastes better since you cook it with love

     Shut up. I do not

->yes you do

Yoongi glances up at Jeongguk and glares, getting a similar expression shot right back at him with the additions of a scrunched nose and stuck-out tongue. Yoongi rolls his eyes.

->something interesting on the ceiling?

The older can't help but snort when he reads the message, earning him a look from Seokjin.

"What's that? You read something funny?"

"Oh, no," Yoongi tells him, distracted. "Just...ya know."

Jin gives him an unconvinced look, but can't say anything since the food is being delivered on numerous dishes. As anticipated, Jimin hands Yoongi the meat and his duty calls. His phone lights up, and he turns his face down to his lap to read it. He's turned the vibrate off—it was starting to get noticed with his frequent Jeongguk texts him.

->get grilling chef yoongi

->you want one of those kiss the cook aprons?

Yoongi smiles and shakes his head, looking back at Jeongguk and jokingly making a kissy face at him.

And fucking goddamnsmoothsweetfuckingtalker Jeon Jeongguk mimes snatching the kiss out of the air and pressing it to his mouth. He's irritated to say that his own stupid mouth drops open in shock as a response.

And then Yoongi dies. Right on the spot. With a plate of meat in his hands and a grill warming up in the centre of table, he dies. With Seokjin elbowing him and reaching for the rice across the table, he dies. With Taehyung and Hoseok toasting their beers, he dies.

Jeongguk winks at him. And he dies.

His face is on fire. He turns away as fast as he can and picks up his chopsticks to start cooking the meat. But the magma is boiling beneath his skin out of embarrassment and...maybe excitement? But it's definitely hot in here now and he wants to take his coat off and step away from the burning grill but he can't just abandon his one solitary duty. In his peripheral vision, his phone lights up again but he doesn't risk looking down to read it. Jeongguk is fucking egging him on. Teasing. Flirting.

It's outrageous, is what it is. Yoongi can't bare it. He's not used to being flustered and flattered and finding someone fucking endearing. He's never thought this was a real thing that happens, but now he's sat here grilling meat, sandwiched between his friends, living it. The butterflies in his gut are irritatingly real and he just wants to pluck their wings off and crumple them up. It's awful and wonderful at the same time. How can people stand this?

He feels like such an awestruck kid with his red cheeks but also he never felt anything like this as a kid. Or ever. He's weightless and weighing a million kilograms at the same time. The opposing forces are like some big cosmic joke being pulled on him. Saying, oh lookie here, there's one gullible guy who will trip over his feet for the first man who sends a wink his way!

"Are you gonna cook that or just glower?" Seokjin inquires.

"I'm gonna cook it," Yoongi grumbles, refusing to look at anyone.

His phone lights up again and he's about ready to throw it at Jeongguk.

Because what does this all mean? It had to mean something, because if it doesn't Yoongi's going to be crushed. He's angry at himself for letting it go on this long. For letting the situation get out of hand. It's all boiling beneath his skin, splitting old wounds open with doubt pouring through the cracks. His chest aches with it.

"Hey, hey!" A shove from Jimin snaps him back into the moment.

"What?"

"The steak is burning."

Yoongi blinks at the meat that's blackened at the edges, smoke starting to rise from it. "Oh," he flips it over to reveal a blackened bottom. "Hope you like it crispy."

Jimin leans closer to him, and Yoongi forces himself to look at him.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine," Yoongi's traitorous eyes sneak a peek at Jeongguk. The younger is grinning and talking with Taehyung. He must sense Yoongi's gaze, because he looks over at him. Jeongguk raises an eyebrow. Yoongi brings his attention back to Jimin abruptly. "I'm just distracted."

"I can see that," Jimin comments. "Are you—"

Yoongi cuts him off, "I don't want to talk about this right now."

"Okay..." Jimin relents with a frown, going back to his food.

Yoongi takes a deep breath. The meat is nearly done, and he shuts off the grill top and takes a knife to cut it into several pieces. Namjoon and Hoseok are the first to get a bite, and no one even complains about the burnt side.

Jeongguk's busy indulging Taehyung by feeding him, so Yoongi's takes a moment to look at phone beneath the table.

->your blush is cute

->what's on your mind hyung?

Yoongi can't help it when he groans and puts his elbow on the table, hiding his face in his palm. Whatever appetite he had is gone, replaced by dread. If only he could brush this off, play along, wink back at Jeongguk and pretend it's no big deal. They're friends having fun. Unfortunately, his goddamn emotions decided to get involved and nows he's sucked into this game of will-he-won't-he-confess to Jeongguk—and the proceeding notion is that he, obviously, won't. But the lava is starting to overflow. Drip down the sides and setting his skin aflame. It's not just on the inside anymore. Molten rock and magma he can handle, but an eruption?

It's nearly upon him. And all he's capable of doing is running. It's the only thing he knows. Run from his family's wishes. Run from the car crash that nearly ended his career. Run from his past of being beaten on the streets, or on the playground. Run from his fear. Run from his pain. His sadness. From Jeongguk.

His breathing is stilted, he can't seem to fill his lungs. His bones are liquidating and his body's moving without his permission.

"Jimin, I gotta piss," he hears himself say and Jimin moves so Yoongi can get by, out from behind the table. The younger doesn't notice anything wrong with Yoongi and Yoongi doesn't give anyone else the chance to either before he's out of the room.

Everything is spinning. The hall is blurry. The restaurant is blurry. It's all muffled, like he's swimming through water. Unable to make distinctions. Murmuring voices, saturated colours, all blended together. He ends up outside somehow and then he's rounding the building, ducking into an alley. Immediately he falls against the building, his back pressing up against the brick. He shuts his eyes and tries to feel the ground under his feet. But it's like mush. Yoongi's convinced the wall behind him is going to collapse, that the smallest burst of air is going to tear him to shreds.

He's unbelievably warm. Feverish. He wants to scream and let some of the steam out. He wants to stumble down the alley into darkness to cool off. He wants to leave, and never return.

When he's finally able to pry his eyes open, he's certain the person before him is a hallucination.

"Yoongi-hyung," Jeongguk mumbles, less than a metre away from him. "You didn't bring your phone."

Yoongi gapes, spotting his cell in Jeongguk's hand. And then he laughs, bending over at the waist, getting stitches in his sides. He laughs until he's breathless and teary eyed and Jeongguk's staring at him, bewildered.

"You're unbelievable, Guk," he says, snatching his phone back. "Un-fucking-believable."

•••

Jeongguk sees Yoongi squeeze past Jimin and the expression on the man's face, and he knows that something is wrong. Taehyung is trying to fed him a bite of steak, but he pushes his chopsticks away and addresses Jimin urgently.

"Where is he going?"

"The bathroom," Jimin says.

"Can you give me his phone?" Jeongguk point to where it sits, abandoned by Yoongi's empty plate.

Jimin does, and before Jimin can question him Jeongguk takes the phone and leaves, chasing after Yoongi.

He checks the bathroom first, pushing the door open to find it empty. And then he races outside, out of breath, scared, worried. He whips his head side to side, desperately staring down the sidewalk and across the street. Jeongguk has to find him. It feels like a sign when a crow lands on the curb to his right and squawks at him. He turns that way and heads towards the corner, before stopping in his tracks as he catches sight of Yoongi in the alley.

The man's fists are clenched and his head thrown back against the building in a show of distress. His chest is visibly heaving, and Jeongguk feels strange just watching but he knows there's nothing he can do to make it stop. Yoongi's teeth are bared, and Jeongguk wants nothing more than to ease his pain but he can't. He can't.

Jeongguk's crossed a lot of lines lately, but this one isn't just drawn in the sand. It's dug into the concrete. Yoongi needs space. Not a leech.

After a few minutes, the older's breathing slows and the lines on his face smooth out. His knuckles are no longer white. Jeongguk quietly enters the alley, standing before Yoongi. He doesn't want to scare him, so he stays silent.

When Yoongi's eyes open, Jeongguk's expecting him to flee. Or fight.

Like an idiot, Jeongguk points out the obvious. "Yoongi-hyung, you didn't bring your phone.

Yoongi gives him a blank look, and then bends over laughing uncontrollably. Startled, Jeongguk watches in awe as the scene of anxiety transforms into one of joy. Of ease. There's no ice to be broken or awkwardness.

Once he regains his composure, Yoongi grabs his phone back from Jeongguk.

"Un-fucking-believable."

"Why?" Jeongguk asks dumbly.

Yoongi rolls his eyes.

"Nothing. You just..." Yoongi trails off, "keep surprising me, is all."

"How?"

"Where do I begin?" Yoongi shrugs, considering the ground between them before looking back at Jeongguk. His gaze is heavier. "That first text you sent me. When you took me home from the studio on the bus. When you shared your soba. When you texted me the next morning. All of your fucking life lessons. And...every single message inbetween and after that," Yoongi scratches the back of his neck, Jeongguk's familiar with the mannerism signaling his nervousness. "What surprises me the most is how much of an affect it's all had on me. My thumbs are cramping from all this typing," Yoongi gives a small laugh. "I send emojis now."

Jeongguk beams. He can't help it. "You're a natural."

"Why did you text me in the first place, Guk?" Yoongi wonders, his voice suddenly low and almost desperate sounding.

Jeongguk's stomach sinks. His throat closes up. The angel and devil that's he's grown used to having perched on his shoulders are absent, leaving an empty space where his conscious should be. Yoongi's words are the soft singing of a siren, and Jeongguk can't stand to block it out anymore.

He swallows hard. "I wanted to talk to you. It didn't," Jeongguk toes the ground, "It didn't matter about what. That's why my first message was so random. But I knew I..." he shakes his head, not sure where he was going from there.

"When you came that night," Yoongi says softly, stepping a few centimetres closer with his eyes burning into Jeongguk's, forcing the younger to give into it. His insides start melting under Yoongi's intense heat. "I was doing exactly what I'm doing now. Holding myself back from running away. I get so angry all the time, and I feel like I'm going to burst. And the only way I know how to handle it is by waiting for it to burn out. It feels like there's—" Yoongi clenches a hand against his chest, pressing there as if he's trying to show Jeongguk something. "There's a volcano inside of me and I don't know when it's going to erupt. And I'm afraid it's going to burn everyone I care about when it does."

"Yoongi—"

"Hang on," the older stops him, and then comes closer. Staring up at Jeongguk. "I'm afraid I'm going to hurt the people I love, which isn't a whole lot of people, Jeongguk. And I can't help that I've let so many people get so close to me, but I've been able to keep everyone some distance away, ya know? I've done it on purpose," Yoongi's eyes are filling with tears and Jeongguk wants to reach out and hold him. But he doesn't. "I kept everyone far enough away that I'd still be able to run if I was afraid I'd explode but you—you followed me out here."

Jeongguk's mouth opens and shuts, at a loss.

"And for as much as I've tried to stop myself, a such as I've stayed in denial, I can't say that I haven't loved every moment spent talking to you. I can't deny that I never want to stop talking to you, whether it be in person or by text, or just by making faces at each other across the dining table with our friends surrounding us."

Yoongi glances away, his voice quieting, "My brain will sometimes trick me into thinking that nothing is real. From these bricks to the dirt beneath our feet," he gestures as he speaks, "my brain won't always catalogue it as real and instead tells me that it's a simulation. Things will look blurry as shit or I won't be able to focus on anything. But these past couple weeks I've never once," Yoongi wipes a hand over his face. Jeongguk holds his breath. "I've never once doubted that my feelings for you aren't real. I've just questioned whether or not—"

Jeongguk lurches forwards, grabbing onto Yoongi's forearms and looking down at him. Yoongi peers up, surprise apparent in his face but it's tinged with caution. Like a frightened cat. "This is real, Yoongi. Only as you've said this have a I realised that I've been less than transparent with you, and now I understand that that can be confusing. But I—" Jeongguk sincerely hopes he's reading this situation correctly, or else he may very well regret his entire life. "I am actually, really—"

"Don't say it. I don't want you to," Yoongi interrupts, looking panicked.

Jeongguk tilts his head, taken aback slightly, "But I want to."

"No," Yoongi repeats breathlessly. "You can't say it. Please, don't."

"Yoongi," Jeongguk squeezes his arms, tugging him closer. Fear is consuming him like darkness takes over the sky when the sun sets. He's come this close, he's fucking standing this close, he can't just stop now. He's finally realised that the angel and the devil never existed and it's always just been a battle between his heart and his head—but now they're in agreement. The best thing for him, no matter the outcome, is to tell Yoongi the truth. "Why?"

And then pink creeps over Yoongi's cheeks and nose just like it had in the restaurant when Jeongguk winked, and Yoongi is refusing to meet his eyes. He's embarrassed, and Jeongguk can't help but smile it's so damn cute. Yoongi grumbles something that the younger can't quite make out.

"What did you say?"

"I said—" Yoongi speaks up, still bashful, "that I wanted to say it first."

Yoongi's gone totally red now, but he's staring at Jeongguk with determination.

"I love you," he says with the straightest face and most neutral voice Jeongguk's ever seen.

Jeongguk's head tilts back as he laughs, "Oh my god, you should see your face."

"My face is perfectly normal, thank you very much."

Jeongguk's smile spreads wider as he stares down at Yoongi, "You look constipated."

Aghast with mock offence, Yoongi tries to push him away but Jeongguk just laughs again and holds him tighter.

"I love you, too."

Yoongi really does shove Jeongguk away when the younger winks again, and mumbles something about how dumb Jeongguk looks when he does that. And Jeongguk just spins him around, winks again, and when Yoongi pushes his face away he captures Yoongi's hand in his own and holds it's against his face.

Where the man's fingertips drift across his jaw and trace back to his hair, electricity sparks. It runs down Jeongguk's back and encourages him to return the gesture. Yoongi's hair is softer than he imagined, Jeongguk's own is often brittle to the touch from how much he's had it dyed, flat ironed, and curled, but somehow Yoongi's isn't.

"Can we text till dawn tonight?" Jeongguk whispers.

"You're a fucking sap and I'm going back inside," Yoongi tells him. No malice only adoration in his voice. And then he adds, "Yes. But only if we're in the same room."

A huff of laughter escapes Jeongguk as he agrees, "I wouldn't have it any other way."

•••

Yoongi's heart is racing and fingers shaking as he types a message to Jeongguk. He's laying in the younger's bed right beside him, their backs pressed up against each other and a blanket spread over them both.

     I'm really glad you followed me outside

->i told you i would be there for you

     I know, but I guess I thought those were just words.

->just because something's written and not spoken doesn't mean it's not real

     Is that Jk's Life Lesson #34?

->yes

     Okay

Yoongi starts typing a question and then pauses, nervous.

->what are you thinking?

     Agh

->hyung don't overthink it

     Agh

-> :/

     Fine

When Yoongi hits send at last he shuts his eyes and drops his phone onto the bed. His face is warm.

•••

Jeongguk snorts when he reads Yoongi's adorably timid text message.

->Could you maybe cuddle me? And maybe if you want to you could kiss me?

He responds with a smirk and a flutter in his chest.

     of course