Work Text:
The room is uncomfortably warm. The air is stuffy, thick to breathe, like muggy humidity on a hot day. Jungkook fiddles with the sleeve of his dress shirt and wishes he’d been styled in something less constricting—something more flowing. Something like the white cotton shirt that Yoongi-hyung wears, sat in front of him. Jungkook purses his lips and stares at the back of the elder’s head, listening vaguely to the questions being asked by the interviewer.
The woman has some sort of exchange with Seokjin that has everyone laughing, but he’s not really paying attention, more focused on the way Yoongi-hyung fiddles with his ring, twirling it around his finger. The silver metal shines dull in the dim light of the interview room.
“So,” she begins, gesturing with her hands for everyone to settle down. She lifts her notecard, reading out the next question. “What term of endearment would you like to hear from your girlfriend?”
A sigh wants to slip past his lips, but he holds it back. Movement to his left catches his eye. Seokjin raises a hand, pausing dramatically. They all turn to watch him eagerly. Jungkook leans over in his seat, smiling expectantly.
“Charmander,” Seokjin says suddenly, hand coming down in emphasis. They burst into laughter. The eldest doesn’t even flinch—just sits back confidently with a straight face. The interviewer laughs but keeps them on track, gesturing for the next person to answer.
They go around. Jimin responds with just his name, and Hoseok jumps in a sudden burst of aegyo, letting out a high-pitched, “Baby~” They all laugh again at the cute display.
When it’s Jungkook’s turn, he bites his lower lip, contemplating. “Jungkook-ah,” he decides, nodding his head. Terms of endearment are nice, but hearing his name makes him happy. He’d like for his significant other to say his name.
He likes it when a certain someone says his name, especially. The way his name falls on that person’s tongue—drawled and slightly accented—he likes it a lot.
Said someone is the next to speak. Jungkook leans forward a bit, watching the back of the elder’s head as he hums in thought. Jungkook hadn’t really cared for the other hyungs’ answers, but he anticipates Yoongi’s answer, curious and wanting to know. He glances at Yoongi, quietly awaiting his answer to the interview question.
“Darling,” Yoongi says, soft and a bit hesitant. Shy. One of his hands rises to rub behind his ear, fingers massaging at the skin in nervous habit.
Jungkook blinks, mouths the word silently to himself. Darling. It feels nice on his tongue, curled and intimate. Sweet. Butterflies flutter in his stomach, filling him with warmth. His fingers twitch in his lap, itching with the desire to pull Yoongi aside and whisper the pet name in his ear. To see how he reacts. If his cheeks dust pink, if his flustered eyes dart every direction: Jungkook wants to know.
It suits him, Jungkook thinks. It suits Yoongi. He’s sweet and caring, considerate and wise. He’s gentle and quiet—soft—but bright and bubbly when he feels happy.
Jungkook smiles to himself. Darling.
He can work with that.
Music vibrates behind the door of the dance studio. Jungkook slows his steps, blinking in surprise as he approaches the room, pulling open the door slowly. He peeks a curious head inside. Jimin and Hoseok are back at the dorm, as well as Jin-hyung and Taehyung. Namjoon has a meeting with the managers, and the last Jungkook knew, Yoongi had gone to his studio.
Except Yoongi hadn’t gone to his studio, it seems, because he’s there, in the practice room, going through their title song choreography. His worn sneakers squeak against the wooden floor of the practice room, steps rapid and detailed. Jungkook smiles a bit, slipping into the room quietly, lingering against the wall as he observes the elder through the mirror.
The song ends, looping back to the beginning. Yoongi holds the ending position, panting lightly.
“That was good, hyung,” Jungkook speaks up, leaning against the closed door.
A yelp leaves the elder as he startles, falling from his careful position to the floor. Yoongi spins on his knees to face the younger, hand on his heart and brows furrowed. “You scared me... How long have you been there?”
Jungkook giggles, scrunching his nose at the shock on Yoongi’s face. He steps further into the studio, crouching down in front of the elder. “Not long,” he assures him, grinning. “Hyung, on the second 8 count—” He stands to emulate the dance. “Try to make your elbows a bit sharper, but don’t be too rigid. Like this,” he repeats the move, putting energy into his upper body.
Yoongi stands, coming to Jungkook’s side. He watches him intently, focused on the advice Jungkook gives him. Jungkook slows down, repeating the choreo. Yoongi follows along.
“Yeah, like that!” Jungkook cheers, as Yoongi puts a little more power into his upper body. He holds out a flat palm. Yoongi high fives him weakly.
“Okay,” Yoongi nods, pulling the long sleeve of his shirt over his fingers to pat at the sheen of sweat on his forehead. He turns to Jungkook with a tired smile. “Thank you, Jungkook-ah. I’ll remember that.”
“You’re welcome, d—” Jungkook, walking to the stereo to change the music, halts sharply, tongue stiff in his mouth. “D-Don’t worry about it,” he stumbles over the words a bit, resuming his path with a quiet, nervous, huffing laugh.
It’s there on the tip of his tongue—that pet name that’s been lingering at the back of his mind since the interview. The one that pops in his mind whenever he observes Yoongi doing anything, really. Just the other day, he’d found the elder doing laundry, folding clothes while humming under his breath, and Jungkook had to leave the room, otherwise he’d go over and back hug Yoongi, press a kiss to his neck and mumble that damned pet name against his skin.
Darling.
It’s become an obsession, almost, how much he craves to address Yoongi with the term. He’s always... always felt something different for Yoongi than he does for his other hyungs; something that makes his heart beat a bit quicker, makes him a bit giddier. This feeling that makes him want Yoongi by his side, their fingers tightly intertwined.
He’s not sure how to approach it. A delicate situation is what it is. A lot of things could change, could be hurt, including himself and Yoongi. The last thing he wants is to make Yoongi feel guilty and trouble his members.
It’s getting harder, though, when he keeps having dreams about waking up to the elder, drifting off with thoughts of tracing Yoongi’s soft skin with the tips of his fingers, spacing out as he stares at pink, pouty lips from a distance. All he wants is to hold Yoongi. It’s hard to stay away from him. Jungkook is a stray comet, caught in his gravity, locked in orbit around Yoongi, always paying attention, always watching him from afar. His heart yearns to move closer, to touch Yoongi—breathe his air—but he’s afraid that if he does, he’ll go down crashing, flaming, damaging them both.
The sound of Yoongi moving around the practice room snaps Jungkook out his thoughts.
“I’m going to go now, Jungkook-ah,” Yoongi speaks up, ambling towards the door. “Don’t stay up too late, okay? Come home soon.”
Jungkook connects his phone to the stereo bluetooth, scrolling through his music library. He sees Seesaw on the list, thumb stuttering in temptation. He shakes his head and scrolls past it. “Yeah, hyung,” he says, kind of roughly. He clears his throat, looking up at the elder. “I will.”
Yoongi smiles at him, and it makes Jungkook feel a million things at once. When the elder leaves, the room feels colder, lonelier. Without his moon, there’s no tide or current; he’s drifting aimlessly, waiting for the second he can be in Yoongi’s serene presence again.
“Darling,” he murmurs in the fading glow of Yoongi’s departure, closing his eyes and imagining that Yoongi is still in the room—all shocked silence, flushed cheeks, and fiddling fingers—tasting the sweet word just once.
It bounces around the practice room, echoing in a taunting melody. Darling, darling, darling. Darling Yoongi-yah. Sweet, sweet, lovely darling.
Jungkook hits play and makes his way to the center of the room. He doesn’t stop dancing until the thoughts of soft cheeks, pouted lips, and whispered “darling”s drift to the back of his mind.
The tiny light on the keypad blinks bright green, the door unlocking with an audible click. Jungkook opens the door silently, closing it behind him and hearing it lock automatically. His target doesn’t notice him slip into the studio, sat in front of the large computer screens, too focused on the words floating from the speaker.
Luckily, the television above the desk is turned on, Netflix pulled up on the screen, otherwise his reflection would be easily visible, giving him away. It also serves as a good distraction; Yoongi-hyung is completely immersed in the show—some love drama he’d probably deny ever watching.
Jungkook sneaks up on him, wiggling his fingers evilly, wicked grin on his lips. When he’s right behind the elder, he leans down close behind his ear, and takes in a slow, silent breath.
And then, he yells out, “Yoongi-yah!”
Yoongi yelps, arms flailing, and Jungkook jumps back with a cackle as the elder spins his chair around and starts kicking at the maknae, face scrunched in a scowling pout.
“Jungkook-ah, don’t do that!” Yoongi complains in a loud whine, rising to his feet to keep smacking the younger. Jungkook deflects him easily, laughing heartily as the two of them slap at each other playfully.
Yoongi gives up trying to shove him back—settles for gripping the younger’s upper arms—and looks up to frown at him. “What do you want?”
Jungkook pouts at him. Yoongi releases him as he backs up to plop himself onto the futon couch in the corner of the studio. “Can’t I visit you just because?”
The elder sighs, shrugging. It happens enough that he doesn’t question it, Jungkook visiting his studio, so he turns around, moving back to his desk, complaining about Jungkook distracting him from his show. Jungkook pulls his jacket off, getting cozy on the small couch, and soon enough, he himself gets caught up in the show on the large television.
He doesn’t know how long they sit there, watching Netflix silently. It’s easy to lose track of time here in Yoongi’s studio, so closed off from the rest of the world, its own little bubble. The soft blanket scented candle on Yoongi’s desk is lit, filling the room with a gentle, comforting aroma. The only thing that could make this better is if they had food and Yoongi wasn’t sat so far away.
After the second episode they watch, Jungkook can’t ignore the rumbling of his stomach any longer. “Hyung,” he whines, stretching his Iron Man socked feet onto the small table in front of the couch and wiggling his toes at the elder. “I’m hungry. Let’s order food.”
Yoongi pushes a hand on his desk to spin his swivel chair around, feet curled underneath his body. Yoongi tilts his head in thought, and Jungkook resists the urge to pat his thighs in invitation. He really wishes Yoongi were closer to him.
“Okay,” the elder agrees easily, nonchalantly asking, “What do you want?”
What doesn’t he want is the question more like. First of all, though, he wants Yoongi next to him. “Come sit with me, hyung,” he requests, patting the seat beside him. Yoongi comes readily, easing up from the chair slowly, shuffling to the couch and climbing over Jungkook’s stretched out legs to collapse besides the younger. Jungkook hums happily, hooking an arm around the elder’s shoulders.
“I don’t have a preference,” Jungkook tells him, tugging Yoongi close to his side. The elder leans against him, biting his lip hesitantly. Jungkook raises a brow. “What did you want, hyung?”
Yoongi chews on his lip, eyes on the television, watching the two main leads stare at each other for an unecessarily long amount of time. “I know the joke’s probably old by now, but... lamb skewers?”
Old? Joke? It’s true that it’s been a while since they’ve gotten skewers together, and they both have other options they prefer, but never once did he feel tired of lamb skewers. It’s their thing—his and Yoongi’s thing. He loves having a thing with Yoongi.
Jungkook assures him in a gentle mumble. “‘S not old, hyung. Let’s do that.”
Yoongi smiles at him softly, moving to rise from the couch. “Okay, Kook-ah. Can you order the food? I should try and get some work done in the meantime.”
“What? No,” Jungkook complains, tugging Yoongi to his side. The elder collapses against him with a huff. He pulls Yoongi even closer, attempting to slide the elder into his lap without being too obvious. “Hyung, you work so much. Let’s just relax.”
A snort tears out of the elder, limp in Jungkook’s arms. “I was watching Netflix when you walked in,” Yoongi deadpans, hitching a thigh over Jungkook’s, reading his intentions easily.
“Yeah, but you’ve been here for two days. Let’s just take it easy now,” Jungkook counters. It’s the root of his visit: an intervention. Jin-hyung had approached him and asked him to tear Yoongi away from his computer. It was what Jungkook needed; he was planning on coming anyways, but having Jin’s request for Yoongi to relax gives him more power.
It’s not like he needs it, though. Yoongi won’t grow angry or kick Jungkook out. He’s pretty compliant when they—any member—express worry for his health. Right now, the elder presses his lips together, debating, eyes roving over Jungkook’s sincere expression. He raises a hand and ruffles Jungkook’s hair affectionately.
“Okay,” he agrees, looking at Jungkook with soft, understanding eyes. “Let’s take it easy, Jungkook-ah. Just let me save my work.”
Jungkook beams at him, grinning widely. Yoongi pushes on Jungkook’s arms lightly, and the younger releases him. The smile slips of the maknae’s face as the elder walks over to his computer. “Wait, hyung, can I hear what you’re working on?”
A hum of affirmation leaves Yoongi, leaned over the desk with a hand on the computer mouse. He clicks a few things, and then a track is playing through the speakers of his studio. The beats aren’t too complex, and the melody is kind of haunting, slightly jazzy, backing vocals echoing past the instrumental. It has a familiar feeling, but Jungkook knows he hasn’t heard it before. Everything Yoongi produces feels familiar, because it’s him.
“I’m not really happy with it,” Yoongi tells him, speaking up over the music. “I’ve heard it too many times. I’ll probably have Namjoonie take a look at it. Get some fresh ears.”
The draft is obviously not a finished product, but it’s headed in the right direction. It’ll be good—great. Jungkook already knows it. He tells Yoongi so. “I like it a lot, hyung.”
“Yeah?” Yoongi asks, a bit zoned out as he focuses on the track.
“Yes,” Jungkook confirms, crossing his legs. “I like everything you produce. You’re a super genius, for sure. Everything you touch is magic,” he sings teasingly, lips quirked in a grin.
The elder snorts vaguely, honed in on the instrumental, still only half paying attention to the younger. “‘S an exaggeration,” he denies softly, shaking his head as he thinks of a few potential rhythms and sounds he could add.
Jungkook huffs, muttering to himself. “Not an exaggeration at all, darling.”
Distracted, Yoongi hums out a questioning, “Hm? What’s that, Kook-ah?” He pauses the track, saving it and shutting off his computer, turning to the younger with a expectant expression on his face.
“Nothing,” Jungkook chimes, bounding up from the couch. Yoongi raises a brow at him. Jungkook walks over, sliding an arm around the elder’s shoulders. “Hyung, how about we go out instead? I think you’ll enjoy some fresh air. Afterwards, we can go home and watch Netflix there.”
Absentmindedly, without thought, Yoongi’s hand raises to hold the fingers slung over his shoulder, hanging over his chest. Jungkook pulls him a bit closer, lips curling as the elder plays with his fingers.
“Okay.” Yoongi nods, smiling gummy and sweet at the younger. “Take me out, Jungkook-ah.”
It’s unfair, the way Jungkook’s breath catches in his throat, the way his heart twinges, his fingers twitching, aching to pull the elder forward by his cheeks and kiss him silly. His lips tingle; it’d be so easy to lean forward and let them press against Yoongi’s temple.
He wants that. He wants that and so much more.
“Jungkook-ah?”
Jungkook clears his throat, shakes his head slightly to clear the tempting thoughts of turning Yoongi to face him and darting down to capture that baby pink bottom lip between his teeth.
“Yeah. Let’s go, Yoongi-yah.”
The desk in his room is upturned, drawers pulled out and stuff littered everywhere. His closet, too, has been invaded, clothes strewn around the room haphazardly. A frustrated groan tears out of Jungkook as he looks around the clutter, near frantic. One of his Canon cameras is missing, the exact one he’d been hoping to take with him when they travel for their next photo shoot. He’s not planning on making a video, and that camera is better suited for stills. But where the heck is it?
The first person he tracks down is Jimin, finding him eating fruit in the kitchen with Namjoon, however the elder shrugs, telling him he hasn’t touched it. Namjoon nods as well, saying he hasn’t seen it anywhere. Seokjin steps into the room, scratching his stomach sleepily.
“What’s going on?” He asks as he steps over to the fridge, pulling out a chocolate milk. His voice scratchy from slumber, eyes slightly puffy.
“Jungkook can’t find his camera,” Namjoon informs the eldest, peeling an orange, nodding towards an increasingly irritated Jungkook.
“Oh, man,” Seokjin winces. The maknae is extremely cautious with his cameras—doesn’t like the members touching them without his permission and tends to get upset when they don’t run it by him first.
Hoseok peeks his head into the kitchen, having overheard the conversation from the living room. “Kookie, you lent it to Yoongi-hyung, remember? He wanted to take pictures of Holly when he visited his family a few weeks back.”
At that, Jungkook deflates, his huffy posture melting away. “Oh, yeah,” he recalls, blinking wide eyes. “I completely forgot.”
“Mhm,” Hoseok agrees, leaning against the threshold of the kitchen. “He really liked it, and when he tried to return it, you told him to keep it and that you’d tell him when you wanted it back.” Hoseok’s lips curl up. “Remember?”
The kitchen goes a bit silent. Jungkook bristles, feels his cheeks heating.
Seokjin lets out a loud, disbelieving laugh. “Ohoho,” he harrumphs, swirling his chocolate milk around. His face is smug, lips curled in a smirk. “So that’s what happened.”
Jimin raises his elbow and coughs loudly, over the top. “Uhhwhipped,” he hisses out between coughs, grinning wickedly. Namjoon just looks at the maknae knowingly, still peeling the orange with a borderline creepy grin on his face.
“Um,” Jungkook starts eloquently. “Shut up.”
With that powerful statement, he promptly takes his leave from the kitchen, ignoring the fond, teasing laughter of his hyungs.
“He’s with Tae,” Hoseok tells him helpfully as he power walks down the hall.
Jungkook sends him a thumbs up, rerouting to Taehyung’s room. The elder’s door is open. Jungkook spots Taehyung sitting on the floor, sitting back against his bed. Sheets of paper are spread all over, some blank and some colorful. Several pallets of paint surround him, as well as a ceramic bowl of water and a dirty, wet towel. Jungkook steps into the room, glancing around the floor curiously.
“What’re you doing?” He asks, watching Taehyung spread his paint coated fingers across a page.
“Finger painting,” Taehyung responds quietly, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth. There’s a line of royal purple paint smudged on his chin. Jungkook is intrigued and would probably ask to join him, but first he needs to find Yoongi.
“Where’s hyung?” Jungkook asks, still kind of dazed as he watches Taehyung paint obscure patterns on the page. The other raises a rose colored finger, pointing at his bed behind him. Without speaking any further, he returns to painting.
The bed is crowded, piled high with blankets and pillows, almost looking like some sort of nest. There’s a tuft of hair sticking out from the blankets, and had Jungkook not noticed it, he wouldn’t know Yoongi-hyung were there at all. Jungkook walks over, and a smile instantly spreads his lips at what he sees.
There, curled up on his side in the mess of sheets lays Yoongi, sleeping soundly. A bundle of fur is nestled close to the elder’s upper chest and neck, half of Yoongi’s face buried in Yeotan’s fluff, one of his hands resting loosely on the slumbering puppy. They look so cozy and soft, Jungkook finds himself automatically reaching for his phone, pulling it out of his pocket to snap several thousand photos.
“This is so cute!” He squeals quietly, camera shutter on his phone clicking as he angles the device and takes a picture. Taehyung hums from the floor, swirling an ivory thumb on the paper.
“I know. Everyone’s come in and taken photos,” Taehyung informs him, setting the painting to the side and dipping his fingers into the bowl to rinse them. “I wanted to post one, but Joonie-hyung said I should wait until he wakes up and ask him.”
Jungkook pouts a bit at that. He’s the last to see Yoongi like this. “Yeah,” he agrees, raising his phone to take another photo. He freezes as Yeotan lifts his head to blink sleepily at him, but the dog pays him little attention, lowering back down, fuzzy chin stretched to lay across the curve of Yoongi’s neck. Yoongi responds to the movement, a small noise leaving him as he raises his knees up to his chest, snuggling further against the puppy.
“Oh my god,” Jungkook wheezes, heart seizing. “This is so cute.”
Taehyung giggles, a contrasting sound to the deep timbre of his voice, peeking up over the edge of the bed. “You can just say it,” he teases, waggling his eyebrows. If it were any of the others, Jungkook might’ve grown defensive, but it’s Taehyung, so Jungkook sits carefully on the edge of the bed, letting his gaze trail from Taehyung’s understanding eyes to the gentle rise and fall of Yoongi’s chest.
“He’s cute,” Jungkook whispers. “Yoongi is so cute. Too cute. More cute than I’m equipt to handle.”
The elder sleeps on, completely unaware of Jungkook’s lovestruck gaze on his lithe form.
“He’s so... darling.”
Jungkook bites his lip, lowers his gaze, because if he keeps looking, he’ll try climbing in bed with the other. He’ll do something reckless, like spoon him, hug him close; press his face to the elder’s hair and breathe him in. He stares down at the bed, fingers tugging on a loose thread of one of the many blankets. Taehyung smiles as he watches, boxy and happy.
Jungkook sighs, looking to Taehyung with a sheepish smile. “Can I paint with you?”
Taehyung’s grin shrinks to something understanding and fond. “Yeah, Kookie,” he says, scooting over to make space. “C’mon. Maybe you can paint something for Yoongi-hyungie and give it to him.”
Jungkook smiles back at him weakly, shuffling to join him. “Yeah. Maybe.”
The table at the hole-in-wall restaurant is a bit too small for the seven of them, but they make do, crowding around the wood, pressed against each other’s sides. After a few drinks, none of them really mind it, thankful to have someone close by to lean against. Jungkook is sat between Namjoon and Jimin, smiling happily as his hyungs converse almost obnoxiously loud, all of them at least a bit tipsy.
A loud giggle catches his attention. Yoongi-hyung throws his head back, laughing heartily at the pun Seokjin just spouted, leaning against Taehyung, who’s snickering as well. Jungkook watches Yoongi, observing as the elder fishes a cube of ice from his cup and pops it into his mouth, cheek bulging like a hamster’s.
Jungkook can imagine little spinning flowers and sparkles appearing around him as he gazed at Yoongi, eyes round and shining, lips curled in a soft smile. Yoongi could be doing the most mundane thing, and Jungkook would probably watch him like he hung the stars in the sky.
Yoongi throws back another shot, his already splotted cheeks flushing darker. The elder sways visibly in his seat, a bit too far gone, and Jungkook thinks that maybe they’ve indulged enough for the night. They’ve been at the restaurant for hours already. It’s about time they head home. Jungkook leans towards Namjoon, arguably the soberest of the hyungs, save for Jimin, who can chug down full glasses of wine and not be affected.
“Namjoon-hyung,” Jungkook calls for his attention. Namjoon hums at him inquisitively. “We should go now, don’t you think?”
Namjoon blinks at that, turning his wrist to check the time on his watch, eyes glancing around at his liquor-happy counterparts. “Yeah, you’re right,” he agrees, waving their manager (who’d been sat at another table with some staff members) over, asking him to call for the cars. Their manager nods, takes off to do so quickly.
“Alright,” Namjoon addresses the group. “We’re going home now, you guys.”
The others agree easily enough, content with their meal, stomachs full and ready for sleep. After paying for their meal, they stand, stepping out of the restaurant, chatting amicably. Just ahead of him, Jungkook sees Yoongi stumble a bit and rushes to his side, wrapping a hand around the elder’s elbow.
“Oh, Kook-ah, hello!” Yoongi chimes, blinking up at the younger in surprise. A gummy grin spreads his lips. The elder is so bubbly when he’s drunk. “I was just talking about you...”
Jungkook’s lips quirk at that, raising a curious brow. “With who?” He asks the elder, guiding him outside gently. Two cars are parked at the curb, and he leads Yoongi to the second one, helping him step into the open vehicle.
“M’self,” Yoongi giggles, pointing to his temple as he climbs into the car at Jungkook’s prompting, clambering into the back seat. “In here!”
In his mind? Yoongi was thinking about him? Jungkook tries not to assume much, not to let himself get excited—because that doesn’t mean anything at all, really—but it’s hard to control the flutter of his heart as he sits down beside the elder, especially when Yoongi buckles his seatbelt clumsily and immediately rests his head on Jungkook’s shoulder.
Hoseok and Jimin climb in behind them, and soon enough, the car starts, beginning the short ride home.
“Only good things I hope,” Jungkook murmurs belatedly, distracted with the way Yoongi’s soft hair brushes against his jaw. The elder hums, a low, soft sound.
“Of course,” he promises in a sleepy mumble, readjusting his cheek on the younger’s shoulder, rubbing against the material of his shirt affectionately. “I only ever think good things ‘bout you, Jungkook-ah...”
The way Yoongi’s voice has gone all soft and raspy does terribly wonderful things to Jungkook’s heart. The elder’s words are slurred together, little lisp making them a bit softer, the syllables curled with a hint of Daegu dialect, something that only really happens when Yoongi is sleepy or drunk. Right now, he’s both, nodding off lightly against Jungkook.
Jungkook wants to ask him what he means, but drunk Yoongi is a chatty, even more bluntly honest Yoongi, willing to share information that sober Yoongi would prefer kept secret. It’d feel like a breach of privacy. No matter how Jungkook yearns to know the things Yoongi thinks of him, he’d never betray the elder’s trust like that.
When they arrive back at the dorm, Jungkook half-carries Yoongi to his room, the elder wobbly on his feet, body heavy and limp with sleepiness. It requires little effort to get the elder out of his shoes and jeans, tucked under the sheets. Jungkook didn’t drink nearly as much as his hyungs, almost completely sober, and Yoongi-hyung is tiny and super easy to maneuver and manhandle.
Once Yoongi’s curled up in bed, blanket tucked up to his chin (because he tends to get cold during the night), Jungkook attempts to move back, make his way from the room quietly, but a hand is shooting out to curl around his wrist, tugging him back to the bedside.
“Jungkook-ahhh,” Yoongi drawls, lips pouted. “Pet me.”
Jungkook blinks, unsure he heard correctly. He clears his throat, gaping down at the elder. “Uh, what?”
A huffing sigh escapes Yoongi, like he’s explained himself a thousand times and is growing impatient. He tugs Jungkook closer—the maknae falls to sit at the edge of the bed—and uses his grip on the younger’s wrist to place Jungkook’s hand atop his head. He moves Jungkook’s hand up and down, mimicking a petting motion, pout still prominent on his lips.
“Pet me,” he mumbles petulantly, eyes wide and brows furrowed, expression like a kicked puppy, as if Jungkook’s hurting him every second he doesn’t run his hand through the elder’s hair. “Please?”
“Oh,” Jungkook breathes, fingers twitching against Yoongi’s head. Yoongi makes an unhappy noise in the back of his throat, and Jungkook hurries to console him, lifting his hand to smooth over the elder’s soft strands. “Okay, okay, I’m—I’m doing it.”
The reaction is instant. Yoongi smiles happily, curling into the blanket with a content sigh. Jungkook stares down at him with wide eyes, cheeks surely tinged pink as he runs his fingers through Yoongi’s hair, heart kicking when Yoongi closes his eyes and leans into his touch, rubbing against Jungkook’s hand eagerly. He looks like a kitten, like this. Jungkook thinks he’d be purring if it were possible.
“Feels nice, Kook-ah,” Yoongi mumbles, blinking sleepily. One of his hands slides forward slowly, fisting the end of Jungkook's shirt, tugging him forward weakly. “Stay...”
Despite his heart jackhammering in his chest, Jungkook cannot refuse him, lifting his legs onto the bed, laying down on his side, head propped up on his elbow as he pets Yoongi’s hair. “I will,” he promises. “I’ll stay until you’re asleep.”
A soft, defeated noise leaves Yoongi. “Stay longer,” he complains, blinking heavy lashes, eyes closed longer than they’re open. He’s already slipping into unconsciousness as he mumbles out, “Stay w’me, Jungkook-ah,” but he fights the sensation, sudden anxiety making him fist the younger’s shirt.
“Yes,” Jungkook agrees easily, placatingly, knowing what the elder needs to hear. He places a hand on Yoongi’s cheek, rubbing his thumb into the skin soothingly. “I’ll stay. Go to sleep...” He bites his lip, chewing it, before letting the next words slip out, hushed and sweet. “Sleep now, my darling.”
And he doesn’t regret it, not one bit. He’s said it, to Yoongi, to his face, albeit his drunk face, but still. Jungkook finds his lips stretching into a grin as he watches the elder flush happily.
A breathy giggle escapes Yoongi. “M’kay, Jungkook-ah,” he sings, and like that, his eyes fall closed, and he sinks into a peaceful slumber, lips curled up in a soft smile. Jungkook stares at him, pressing his thumb to the curved corner of the elder’s mouth. Amazed, enthralled, admiring.
In love.
The cushion beside Jungkook’s dips as a body lands bonelessly beside him on the love-seat couch. Yoongi makes a low noise in his throat, eyes squinting as he watches Jimin set up the television for their weekly movie night.
“Why do we have to watch a scary movie?” Seokjin complains, already clinging onto an equally uneasy Hoseok in a mix of weary anticipation and dread.
Taehyung doesn’t look too disturbed, though Jungkook knows he’s not exactly into horror films, either. But the spirit of the holiday makes him more eager and willing. “It’s Halloween, hyung,” he emphasizes, sprawled across the floor with Jimin. “We have to watch at least one scary movie.”
Jungkook scoffs at Seokjin, grinning teasingly. “Already chickening out, hyung?”
Seokjin squawks in sharp denial. Jimin and Taehyung starts laughing, bantering back and forth with the eldest, while Hoseok unashamedly, openly admits that he’s guaranteed to chicken out. Namjoon looks like he’s three seconds from falling asleep, but he joins in the teasing, laughing tiredly.
Another low noise leaves Yoongi, unhappy and timid. It’s only because Jungkook is sat right beside him that he hears it. Concerned, he turns to the elder, frowning in worry. “You don’t have to watch it, hyung,” he assures him gently. “It’s okay, we understand.”
Across the room, Seokjin makes a strangled, appalled noise. Jungkook sticks his tongue out at him slyly.
“It’s fine...” Yoongi mutters, bringing his knees up to his chest. “Just give me some of that blanket.”
Jungkook smiles and stretches out the blanket spread across his legs to Yoongi, scooting closer to the elder so they can share. Yoongi leans against his side easily, curled up as much as he can, his head against Jungkook’s shoulder.
The menu screen pops up on screen, and Jimin’s pressing play on the remote, standing to turn off the living room lights. There’s loud giggles as he trips over Taehyung’s leg and tumbles to the floor, but then the movie’s starting and they grow hush again. The movie is familiar to Jungkook, one he’s seen before; a mix of psychological thriller, suspense, horror, and sci-fi.
It starts off unassuming. When the horror part of the film is introduced, it happens suddenly—loudly—as a character on screen is taken and killed by some sort of alien-looking creature. Everyone jumps—Seokjin and Hoseok yelp loudly and Jimin and Taehyung cuddle close. (Namjoon is alseep already, funnily enough, completely undisturbed by the noise, but he deserves the rest so they leave him be.)
Yoongi jolts against him, turning his face into Jungkook’s arm to avoid watching the scene. Jungkook turns to him, question on the tip of his tongue, but then the scene is over, and Yoongi is taking in a deep breath, emerging from Jungkook’s shirt to watch the television warily. He feels the elder wiggle close to his side.
Every time there’s a jumpscare or the tension in the film raises, Yoongi presses close to Jungkook, hiding his face against the younger’s arm. It’d be cute—it is cute, so fucking cute—but Jungkook is more worried about Yoongi being scared than amused at how the elder clings to him.
“Hyung,” he whispers after one particular scene has Yoongi hugging his arm tightly, the elder trembling a bit. “Yoongi-yah,” he drops the honorific, hoping it comforts the elder a bit more. “Are you okay?”
Yoongi nods slightly, letting out a shaky, “Mhm.” Jungkook sighs, raising his free arm to stroke the elder’s hair gently. Yoongi is tense against him, obviously uncomfortable—scared, but the elder turns back to the television, trying once more to brave through the movie. Jungkook bites his lip, deciding to keep an eye on him.
It’s at the climax of the film, when everything is much more intense and loud, screeching alien-monsters and screaming people, hair raising background music adding to the stomach twisting feeling of the chase scene. Jungkook jolts in surprise as the elder lurches towards him. Yoongi falls sideways into his lap and twists around to press his face against the younger’s stomach. At the same time, he tries to pull the blanket over his head, struggling with the material.
“Jungkook-ah,” Yoongi whimpers, giving up and burying his nose against the younger’s navel, face scrunched in anxiety.
Jungkook snaps out of his stupor, quickly placing a palm against Yoongi’s exposed ear, blocking the noise of the movie, using his other hand to comb through the elder’s hair. “Shh,” he soothes quietly. “It’s okay, Yoongi-yah. You’re safe...”
Tiny tremors run through the elder, vibrating against Jungkook’s stomach and thighs. He glances at the others, who’re squealing loudly, before returning his gaze to Yoongi. Biting his lip, he rubs his thumb behind the elder’s ear. “It’s okay,” he whispers again, muted by the loud television and screams of the others. “I’m here, darling.”
It feels good, comforting Yoongi, whispering to him sweet words even if the elder doesn’t hear. Yoongi spends the rest of the film hiding against Jungkook’s stomach, his hands curled into fists in the younger’s shirt. Whenever the movie grows in volume, he covers Yoongi’s ear with his palm, and when things settle down, he uses the hand to massage the elder’s scalp.
Eventually, the shaking of Yoongi’s shoulders dies down, the elder relaxed completely against him. Jungkook looks down at him in surprise, watching the even rise and fall of Yoongi’s chest. He’s asleep, Jungkook realizes, lips spreading in a fond smile. A bit of Yoongi’s face peeks out from his shirt, enough for Jungkook to see one closed eye, the fan of his lashes fluttering against his cheek.
When Jungkook is sure no one is watching—Hoseok and Seokjin have long since fled the room, Tae and Jimin are engrossed in the film, and Namjoon is snoring away peacefully—he lowers down slowly, and brushes his lips against the Yoongi’s hair gently.
“Darling,” he mouths against the strands. “My darling.”
(If, when Jungkook carries him to bed and tucks him in, he presses a kiss to those soft cheeks, no one’s the wiser.)
“You really think you can beat me?”
Yoongi fingers arch as he dribbles a basketball idly, relaxed and slightly amused as he stares up past his lashes. Jungkook scoffs in offense, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows at the question, stood directly across in front of the elder on the basketball court. He smirks, raising an arm in a ninety degree angle and patting his thick bicep.
“Uh, yeah?” Jungkook laughs softly, lowering his arm. “I’ve got strength and stamina on my side. You’ll be laying on the pavement whining to go home in 20 minutes tops.”
Mouth parting to intake air, Yoongi raises a finger. It curls slightly as he tilts his head admittedly. “You got me there,” he points at the maknae, lips curled up knowingly. “But I’ve got strategy and experience, so really, I think we’re pretty equal.”
Jungkook taps his chin, pursing his lips in consideration. He grins and claps his hands, gesturing for the elder to pass him the ball. It bounces onto the concrete and into his waiting palms. “I still think I’ll win.”
“I guess we’ll just have to see,” Yoongi huffs, hands on his hips. “First one to fifteen?”
The basketball blurs as Jungkook twirls it in his hands. He tries to place it on the tip of his finger and spin it like Yoongi does so gracefully, but it tips over immediately, falling to the ground and bouncing a few feet away. Yoongi snorts at him, shaking his head with a fond smile.
The ball rolls to a stop just at the edge of the court. Jungkook stares at it, blinking before turning back to Yoongi. “Loser does whatever the winner says,” he declares, grinning wickedly.
Yoongi shrugs, undeterred. He glances between Jungkook and the ball, shifting his weight on his feet. “Bring it.”
The elder's arms drop to his sides, hips turning slightly in the direction of the basketball. Jungkook watches him, lips curling into a challenging smirk. They meet each other’s eyes, holding the contact firmly. Jungkook imagines traditional music playing in the background, the two of them in a classic staredown.
It’s not surprising that Yoongi lunges for the ball first; he’s Bangtan’s resident sneaky, rule-bender, always looking for an upper hand. Jungkook immediately jumps after him, a laugh tearing out of his throat as he wraps his arms around Yoongi’s waist and lifts him, spinning him away from the ball. The elder screeches, attempting to squirm free.
“You’re such a cheater!” Yoongi complains loudly, but he’s laughing as he kicks against Jungkook’s hold. The two of them struggle against each other, play wrestling. Well, it’s really only Yoongi who struggles. Jungkook just keeps giggling as he pulls Yoongi further from the ball, who doesn’t stop squirming to get away. An unstoppable force versus an immovable object.
Yoongi elbows him, trying to yank free from Jungkook’s grip, knee raising to push him away. Jungkook just hugs him closer, hooking his arm around the elder’s neck snugly. Yoongi goes still.
“Can we start playing now?” Yoongi gripes, breathing a bit heavy. Jungkook wraps his arms around the elder’s waist and hefts him up, jiggling him around. Yoongi groans, kicking his feet like a child throwing a tantrum. “Jungkook-ah!”
Jungkook giggles breathlessly. “Okay, okay,” he relents, setting the elder back down on the ground. Yoongi immediately runs for the ball, and Jungkook lets him, lips stretched in a bright smile. He’ll get his chance soon enough.
A mix of laughter and yelling echoes in the empty park. It’s late, a few hours before midnight, and clouds hang dangerously low in the sky, threatening to burst at any moment. The combination means less people around the park, which then means that Yoongi does not hold back his high, ear piercing shrieks as they play. Jungkook doesn’t mind; it makes him laugh.
They've been spending more time together, just the two of them. While part of Jungkook absolutely relishes in it, in being with him, another part is tortured, suffocated by the feelings for Yoongi that are becoming too strong to ignore. Every little thing Yoongi does is amazing to him—wonderful, and precious, and adorable. It kills him in the best kind of way, yet Jungkook wouldn’t change it for the world.
Just as he suspected, it takes less than 20 minutes for Yoongi to squat down and take in a deep breath, a low whine leaving him. Jungkook grins victoriously, basketball tucked into the crook of his elbow. It took him less than 20 minutes to beat the other, too.
Yoongi glances up at him, puffing out his cheeks at the smug expression on Jungkook’s face. “You cheated...” he pouts, remembering how Jungkook lifted him away from the basket multiple times.
A disbelieving laugh leaves Jungkook. He points an accusing finger at the elder. “Says you. I’m gonna have bruises from your bony ass elbows,” he defends.
Yoongi opens his mouth to rebute, but he jolts as a large drop of water hits his forehead, running down his nose. He blinks, looking up at the clouds. “Uh, Jungkook-ah...”
A few drops litter the court, dark dots appearing lightly. Then, it comes down all at once. Jungkook barely has the time to look up before the clouds fall, rain crashing down on them, wetting them instantly. Yoongi lets out a panicked yelp—not sounding unlike a startled, disgruntled cat— jumping up to his feet.
“Jungkook-ah,” he yells over the rain. “C’mon!” Yoongi lurches forward, wrapping his hand around Jungkook’s. The younger stumbles after him, basketball falling from his arms. He’s not sure where they’re running, until suddenly they’ve escaped the rainfall.
They stand under the awning of the bus stop near the park, rain blurring the rest of the world from their sight, splashing against their shoes. Yoongi is still holding his hand, Jungkook realizes, heart skipping a beat. Instead of letting go, he turns his palm, intertwining their fingers. Yoongi’s head snaps to the side, eyes wide as he stares at Jungkook, but the younger keeps his gaze towards the rain steadily.
The tension in Jungkook’s shoulders melts away when Yoongi slowly glances away and moves a bit closer to his side, fingers curling over Jungkook’s knuckles.
“This sucks,” Yoongi whimpers, head ducked as he uses his free hand to touch his soaked hair. Jungkook brushes his thumb over the elder’s knuckles, watching with soft eyes as Yoongi tucks his chin further against his chest, shoulders raising. The tips of his ears turn pink.
The weather lets up a bit to a pleasant, gentle rainfall—the kind seen in a romantic movie or drama. A light bulb goes off in Jungkook’s mind. “I know what I want, hyung,” he blurts.
Yoongi looks at him skeptically. “That took you no time at all,” he quips, feeling his toes curl uncomfortably in his shoes. When Jungkook doesn’t answer, he follows the maknae’s intent gaze, looking out at the rain. Dread rises in his chest. “Jungkook-ah—”
“Dance with me,” Jungkook interrupts, turning his head to stare at the elder. Yoongi pauses, mouth flapping open and closed.
“...What?”
Jungkook swings their linked hands a bit, tightening his grip. “I’ve always wanted to dance in the rain,” he tells Yoongi softly. It’s on his (quite extensive) bucket list of romance to-do’s. It may be hard for him to do cheesy things, but he’s a romantic at heart, through and through.
Yoongi looks unsure, massaging his lips together nervously. “What, like walk out there and go through a choreo? You want to dance Idol in the rain?”
“No.” A laugh bursts out of Jungkook. Yoongi sounds like he’s joking, but his face is confused and a little curious, brows furrowed and lips pouted. He’s so endearing. “No, hyung. Slow dancing.”
A look of surprise flits across Yoongi’s features. His jaw drops, lips falling into a silent, “Oh.” The elder averts his gaze, staring down at the ground, fingers shifting against Jungkook’s, shrinking with the weight of Jungkook’s unwavering gaze.
“You want to slow dance,” Yoongi clarifies, voice soft and hesitant. “In the rain... With me?”
“Yes,” Jungkook confirms gently. He turns his body to face Yoongi, and the elder lowers his head shyly. A involuntary squeak escapes Yoongi as Jungkook’s free hand settles on his waist, the heat of his palm searing through the thin, wet material of Yoongi’s shirt.
“T-There’s no music,” Yoongi stutters, ducking his head, hiding the steady flush of his cheeks from the younger. He flinches as his forehead lands against Jungkook’s sternum, eyes wide in nervousness.
“I’ll sing,” Jungkook whispers, breath fanning over the side of the elder’s head. Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut, biting back the noise that bubbles in his throat.
Silence lulls between them, the background ambience of the rain providing a serene atmosphere. There’s no rush—Jungkook waits patiently, watching as the elder thinks. Meanwhile, Yoongi finds his mind blanking, completely caught off guard and unprepared. But...
After a brief moment, Yoongi raises his free hand, slow and slightly quivering, and places it on Jungkook’s bicep gently. “Okay,” he agrees in a mumble. “Okay, Jungkook-ah.”
Taking that as his cue, Jungkook steps them leisurely towards the edge of the awning, giving Yoongi the time to change his mind, but the elder says nothing. Yoongi’s face scrunches cutely in anticipation for the oncoming wet, but moves easily, letting Jungkook guide him. The first touch of rain makes Yoongi flinch, and Jungkook chuckles quietly, squeezing his hand in reassurance.
They stand in the rain, droplets pouring down on them. Yoongi blinks rapidly, shifting his weight on his feet. A small smile spreads his lips. “Take it away, Kook-ah,” he muses, raindrops sliding down his cheeks. Now that they’re back under the rain, he’s not as cold as before. It’s not as bad as he thought.
Jungkook readjusts his hold on the elder’s hand, raising their linked fingers. When he begins to sing softly, he takes a step forward, leading Yoongi into a simple slow dance. Yoongi ducks his head, hiding the flush creeping up his neck. Jungkook can see it anyways, the tips of his ears heated pink.
They go through three songs by the time their skin is pruned from the exposure to the water, small shivers making them shake. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to play in the rain during late autumn, but Jungkook can’t find it in himself to regret it. He had his fun with twirling and dipping Yoongi (laughing as the elder spluttered at the rain hitting his face), until suddenly they stopped playing around, settling into something softer, more intimate. They sway slowly, huddled close.
Yoongi’s head is on his shoulder, face turned in towards his neck. Jungkook can feel the warmth of his breath against his skin, chin resting against Yoongi’s head as he sways them. His heart is beating a mile a minute, eyes fluttered shut as the rain bears down on them.
The serene atmosphere is broken when Yoongi sneezes, sudden and loud. Jungkook laughs, happy and bright, but concerned as well, stepping back to lead the elder under the bus stop awning. They separate, gazing at one another silently.
“Slow dancing in the rain,” Yoongi sniffles breaking the silence. He shakes his head ruefully, amused smile on his lips. “Want a kiss, too?” He snarks, shaking his heavy, damp sweater paws uselessly. Jungkook laughs, pretends like the thought doesn’t make his heart jump in his throat.
Shivers wrack their way down Yoongi’s spine. Nose scrunching, he presses closer to Jungkook, blinking raindrops from his lashes. Jungkook feels him tremble and hugs him snugly to keep him warm.
“If I get sick, I will sneeze on you,” Yoongi warns, shuddering from chills. Jungkook makes an apologetic sound, rubbing his hands up and down the elder’s arms, concerned with the way Yoongi shakes, his teeth chattering slightly.
“I’m sorry, darling,” he apologizes absentmindedly, taking Yoongi’s cold hands between his own. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll let you.”
The rain stops. That’s what it feels like, at least, as Jungkook realizes what he’s said and snaps his head up to stare at Yoongi with shocked eyes. It feels like even the turn of the earth has frozen. The elder reflects his expression, surprised and a little bit scared. Tense silence bears down on them, unfamiliar and heavy. It’s never been like this between them.
There’s a choice. Take the plunge, take the risk, or play it safe, brush it off as a teasing joke. Jungkook’s first instinct is the latter, but Yoongi looks vulnerable, eyes wide and brows furrowed, and Jungkook will beat himself up if he’s not honest with the elder.
So he takes that step off the edge.
“Darling,” he rasps, airy and slightly wheezy.
The relief that follows is immense, like letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, like breaking the surface of a body of water he was drowning in. He’s already jumped, already falling, so he releases Yoongi’s hands, and cups his face. Stares deep into his shocked eyes and lets it go. Exhales his suffocation and breathes.
“Darling.” Jungkook puts everything into the one word, his stomach twisting as he slides his thumbs under Yoongi’s eyes, traces his skin gently, like he’s something precious, something delicate, something darling. And he is. He’s that and so much more to Jungkook.
Yoongi’s hands fist the front of his damp shirt. Maybe the elder feels his heart running rampage, because he flattens his palm out over his chest, his eyes widening impossibly at the pounding pulse. The other hand slides up, around his neck. Yoongi steps closer, and they’re so close, breathing the same, damp air.
“Jungkook-ah...”
His tone is heavy—thousands of words conveyed in just the one, just the single utterance of Jungkook’s name. It’s hard to tell; Jungkook’s not sure what to make of it, but he doesn’t have the chance to ponder too long, because Yoongi’s hands are fisting the collar of his shirt, tugging them backwards under the rain.
“Yoongi—” Jungkook sputters, hands falling down from the elder’s face to grip his waist. Water runs down his face, seeping into his clothes all over again, pooling in his shoes, and he has half a mind to kick them off, but then Yoongi’s there, inches from his face. His dark hair is plastered to his forehead, raindrops like diamonds in his lashes, his cheeks flushed and eyes shining. He’s beautiful.
Jungkook inhales sharply, arms sliding around the elder. “Yoongi—”
“Do you mean it?” Jungkook can hardly hear him over the sound of the rain, but it’s there, written on Yoongi’s face—the vulnerability. The fear and worry. The hope. In a burst of courage, Jungkook uses the arms around Yoongi’s waist to tug him closer, leaning down to brush his nose against the elder’s, close enough to hear his intake of breath.
“Of course,” Jungkook swears, resting their wet foreheads together. “I do. I mean it.”
A strangled noise escapes the elder. His arms slide around the younger’s neck, hugging him. “Jungkook-ah.”
Jungkook swallows, takes in a heavy breath as best as he can with rain pouring down on him, on them. “Yes, darling?”
Yoongi stares at him, eyes full of emotion. In a flash of movement, he’s jumping up onto the tips of his toes, arms winding tight around Jungkook’s neck. Jungkook gasps as Yoongi tilts his head to the right and kisses him. A strangled noise tears from Jungkook’s throat. He shakes off his shock to surge forward, matching Yoongi’s enthusiasm, their lips meeting and parting in tender kisses.
Without removing his lips from Yoongi’s, Jungkook ducks down to grip the elder’s thighs, hoisting him up. Yoongi wraps his legs around the younger’s waist, smiling against Jungkook’s mouth. A breathy laugh escapes him as he ducks his head down to kiss Jungkook again.
And again, and again, and again.
♡ ʙᴏɴᴜs ♡
All along, he thought he’d imagined it, dreamed it, misheard it. Always a hushed whisper, that sweet word that makes his heart skip, cheeks flaming with happy content, toes curling in his socks. It couldn’t be possible, he’d thought. Surely, he was mistaken.
In what world would Jeon Jungkook call him darling? It had to be his mind fabricating a false hope, making him hear things that never occurred, inducing a bittersweet flutter that made him equal parts ecstatic and depressed. Jungkook would never, he scolded himself, never call Min Yoongi his darling.
It’s true that his members know mostly every side of him, the sides he rarely shows to the world, despite the few blunt hints he’s dropped. There’s a limit, however, to even their knowledge. They don’t know just how much he craves sweet words, soft love, tender caresses. How he craves to be cherished and treated as if he’s something precious.
Compliments, when they come from the one, certain person, turn his insides to fluff, make his heart swell with peaceful serenity. Light touches are enough to sweep him off his feet, mind floating on a soft cloud of happiness. Eye contact and crinkly, bunny smiles sent his way sparks twirling butterflies in his stomach, the gentlest of pinks dusting his cheeks.
When it’s Jungkook. When Jungkook so much as looks his way, he’s twiddling his thumbs, averting his gaze coyly, basking in even the tiniest sliver of the maknae’s attention. That’s what clued him in to his harboring emotions: the desire to captivate Jungkook’s time and attention. Wanting Jungkook to laugh and play with him, too. Not just the others.
But it’d be too out of character, wouldn’t it? The only one who truly knows how clingy Yoongi can be is Taehyung—the only one who actively reaches for him enough to notice how Yoongi craves touch. Yoongi couldn’t just stroll up to the maknae and ask for his affection. Jungkook would be weirded out. There was no way Jungkook would ever want him, not the way Yoongi wants him.
And then, the practice room.
Yoongi noticed the way Jungkook stumbled over his words, stuttering out the beginning syllable to the one word that renders Yoongi completely soft. It felt so strongly like he’d say it, even if there was no premise for the action. That’s the way the syllable fell out. “You’re welcome, dah—” Yoongi had blinked in shocked, frozen until Jungkook continued, seemingly unbothered.
Maybe he was mistaken? Of course he was. Yoongi thought little of it.
And then, his studio.
Jungkook was the breath of fresh air that he needed, his presence refreshing and replenishing, like wind on a summer’s day, an oasis in the middle of the desert, rain after a drought. Yoongi lets himself get lost in the messy labyrinth of his mind, but Jungkook—he’s the golden rope that guides Yoongi back home.
Admittedly, he’d been distracted, focused on the music that’d been giving him hell for hours, rather than the muttered words coming from the maknae. It wasn’t something he realized until hours later, when he was curled up comfortably in bed, what he swore Jungkook said.
It kept him up, bouncing back and forth between stinging denial and hopeful what-ifs. Tired of struggling with himself, Yoongi slipped into a fitful slumber. One thousand times more confused than ever before.
And then, in Taehyung’s room.
Taehyung had become a solace of sorts—much needed support during the realization of his feelings for Jungkook, and ultimately, his troubles that came along with them. The younger had a certain way of reassuring him, gentle and purely good, careful with Yoongi in the way that Yoongi needed. Yeotan was a bonus; stroking his fluffy fur was, is, calming and therapeutic.
He’d been cuddled with the puppy, drifting somewhere between consciousness and sleep, a blank, empty limbo of nothingness, breathing in the soft aroma of paint and scratch paper. It was the kind of sleep where you faintly feel your surroundings, faintly hear the world around you. He’d half-heard the others walk in and coo at him. He heard Jungkook coo at him, too, he thinks, hushed words exchanged between the two. Amongst them, Yoongi swore he heard the whispered pet name.
But the half of him that wasn’t awake was asleep. He could’ve easily misheard, or even dreamt it. That had to be the answer. It was more logical, to him at least. More logical and realistic than Jungkook ever speaking so fondly and endeared about him.
And then, the dinner party.
Drunk Yoongi is a lot less afraid than somber Yoongi. Drunk Yoongi is chipper and chatty, unfiltered and honest. The night is vague in his memory, blurry and muddy like treading underwater, like scuba diving. But he remembers Jungkook laying with him, offering those sweet caresses that Yoongi so craves.
He... He thought he remembered Jungkook addressing him with the term of endearment, telling him to sleep, so sweetly. But he—he was drunk. Yoongi couldn’t say for certain what Jungkook uttered, and it nearly drove him up the wall. Because that’s what it had felt like for months: trying to gauge if there was even the slightest chance Jungkook might feel anything for him in return. A tangled mess of insecurity. An obscure, foggy glass of self-doubt and timidity.
Something that can’t be said for certain.
And then, the horror movie.
He’d been scared, and Jungkook was sweet, not seeming to mind Yoongi clinging onto him. In fact, he’d pet Yoongi’s hair and helped block his ears from the screams of the television. The comfort of Jungkook’s presence was enough to soothe him, the gentle strokes against his hair and skin gradually lulling him to sleep, rested on the younger’s lap.
And he felt it, definitely, when Jungkook carried him to bed and pressed the curve of his lips to Yoongi’s cheeks. It was a spark of millions of emotions: confused, dazed, unsure, but above all, hopeful.
Still, he didn’t have the strength to confront the younger, but he didn’t have to.
Because then there was no denying it.
♡
The bed shifts, creaks under added weight. Yoongi feels the mattress dip as Jungkook joins him, sidling up behind the elder, wrapping an arm around him and hugging him close. Yoongi sighs happily and leans back into him, tilting his head to face the younger, soft smile on his lips.
“Goodnight,” he hums, intertwining his fingers with Jungkook’s over his stomach. “Love you, Jungkook-ah.”
And Jungkook ducks down, lips meeting Yoongi’s in a gentle kiss.
“I love you, too,” he murmurs, settling down, nose brushing against the nape of the elder’s neck. He presses a lingering kiss there. “My darling.”