Work Text:
“—this isn’t looking very good.”
the buildings come out of the sky, flooding the streets with warm lights from apartments and offices and noraebang neon signs. under it, darkness, thick with fluffy clouds. they’ve been saying it’ll snow, but it hasn’t, not yet. february wraps around yoongi’s body like a deceived lover — cold and prying. his sweater and shirt have gone up, or down, the perspective is twisted. “i am so sorry , hyung—” is jungkook’s voice, coming from above, or under, and his fingers are firmly curled around yoongi’s left ankle. “i won’t— let you go.”
yoongi huffs, swaying. he’s lightheaded, hearing the blood inside his ears. all those meters down, or up, spread on the cement, it’s what’s left of his camera: small, dark plastic pieces, and glass. it’s his fault— mostly. he shouldn’t be trying to photograph spider-man at the top of that building. height makes his hands shivery. things have the tendency to fall. “i hope my memory card is still alive,” he comments with a nervous huff. it had taken him three years of shitty jobs to buy that camera. “those were good shots.”
“hyung ,” jungkook sounds— strained. yoongi forces his head up, or down, looking at him. he’s not in the best position either, one hand holding onto the flag post of the government building they’ve been exploring, other avoiding yoongi’s impending death. “i’ll have to toss you.” yoongi glares, opening his mouth to complain. “please don’t be mad—”
it’s — impossible, overall, to be mad at someone like jeon jungkook (he has tried, and failed, despite being constantly swinged across buildings in diverse reckless manners). yoongi doesn’t admit it, though, sniffing, feeling his eyes tearing up from the cold breeze. “if i die, i’ll come back to haunt you,” he mutters, raspy tones and feign annoyance. at this, jungkook laughs.
“i wouldn’t mind,” he says, cheeky.
“me dying?”
“you, with me,” yoongi’s face is already red from all the blood pooling, but his lower, or upper, parts tingle. jungkook clears his throat, and maybe his touch is caring, even though yoongi is sure it is just his imagination wanting things. “for a long time.”
“— the dead part—“ he starts saying, stammering, failing to find ways to say things properly, but then he’s being literally tossed, jungkook groaning from sheer effort, and yoongi’s stomach drops hard. “fucking —“
it’s fine, it’s fine, it’s good , jungkook says during the whole time yoongi’s in the air, which isn’t a lot, maybe a bit over five seconds, possibly even less. yoongi presses his eyes closed, coldness grabbing at his sides before jungkook does so. it’s a very hard pull, and he bites on his tongue, his bones feeling fragile, and all yoongi sees is the camera completely smashed, and how he could look the same (but not just plastic and glass, then). then, with a heavy huff, jungkook lands, arms still firmly around yoongi. “i’ve got you, hyung,” he breathes, words kind, fingers rubbing circles on yoongi’s hips. yoongi finally blinks, slightly nauseated, as his feet also touch the ground. they’re on street level, webs all around, maybe a net to catch them if— yoongi swallows. his mouth tastes like gritty metal. he shits on his weight, and the plastic under his foot cracks.
“oh,” he says, raising it slightly. jungkook takes off his mask, all flushed, all sweaty haired and big, doe-like eyes. “i’m going to have to find a new job.”
jungkook looks absolutely pained. “it’s my fault,” he offers, somehow small, deflating. his shoulders slump. “if it weren’t for me—“
“i’d be as dead as this camera,” yoongi exhales. it’s always interesting to see the change in the jungkook’s behaviour whenever he’s wearing his suit— the superhero, bold and daring and playful, and the boy, shy and blushy and soft-spoken. yoongi is very certain his heart beats in such trouble for both. they’ve been — kissing — since december, not that they’re keeping track, but it’s a thing that happens, often, quite often. “you didn’t do nothing wrong.”
“okay.” but okay is not what he sounds like. yoongi sighs. he reaches forward, grabbing jungkook’s wrist. he wants to hold his hand, too, but maybe that’s going too far.
“come on, i’ll buy you churros.”
“we’re far from home,” jungkook points out, smiling a little bit nonetheless. it makes yoongi blush too easily.
“change, we can take the train.”
“ hyung ,” and jungkook quietly touches the tips of yoongi’s loose fingers with his own. “it’s valentine’s day.”
“is it?” yoongi arches his eyebrows, voice suddenly higher. “haven’t noticed.” but he has, he certainly has, jittery at the thought of seeing jungkook on a day so meaningful to everyone else. it’s a day for — couples, lovers, and it makes yoongi think about things that shouldn’t be given thoughts to. the what ifs are too wide. “come on—“
but jungkook pulls on his hand, and yoongi steps forward involuntarily. the spider-man grin is back, plastered on his annoyingly pretty face. “are you taking me out on a date?”
the thing about yoongi is that he doesn’t like jungkook winning their sillies banters. so he inches forward, until his lips are hovering over jungkook’s ears, and he can tell jungkook’s body reacts to it, stiffening, nervous. boy jungkook is easy to rattle. “no.” then he laughs, stepping away, because there’s some sort of nervousness staining his lungs. jungkook makes a face, all blushy, before letting himself free of yoongi’s hold, starting to undress. yoongi turns his back to him, less for the privacy, more for the sake of his breathing system. “it’s churros.”
but it is not churros, not only churros, at least. it’s the first time they go out after dark as min yoongi and jeon jungkook, no superhero drills involved— all the other times rolled around the rescuing and saving of people, and the sale of photographs that feed, at this point, the three of them (“i’m not sure why you’re not telling me you bought a drone, i am not going to break it—“, namjoon has said, exasperated, just the night before). there’s also the fact that university is a thing namjoon likes to remind him, rather begrudgingly, they pay for and thus can’t ignore— the trials and tribulations of young adults are vastly boring and can hardly make the bestselling shelves, yoongi reckons.
yet here he is, with the boy he sometimes kiss and who might be some sort of vigilante to a city where not a lot happens. yoongi suddenly realises he’s nervous. “i want chocolate churros,” jungkook says, breaking his chaotic line of thought, and yoongi nods at nothing in particular. yoongi leans down to pick up the remains of a sd card. “i’ll buy tonight, hyung, for—“ he glances over his shoulder as jungkook pulls the zippers of his jacket up. he looks rather warm. “for your camera.”
“you cannot buy my camera price in churros,” yoongi huffs as they start walking. “you’re broke.” jungkook looks back at the dead, valuable object, and there are apologies already forming at the back of his throat. “leave it, jungkook, it isn’t your fault .”
“— okay.”
but he looks forlorn the whole way, sullen and possibly displeased with himself. yoongi doesn’t really know what to do. they haven’t known each other that long that they know how to deal with mood swings and awkward sadness. so he looks around— to the window shops filled with paper hearts and chocolate stalls varying in prices. there’s a lot of pink everywhere, and yoongi thinks briefly that pink doesn’t suit any of them (jungkook’s very clearly sunny yellows and red, yoongi is distraught grays all along) — except pinks look really good on jungkook’s nose, and his cheeks, and his mouth. “are you cold?” he asks, nudging the side of jungkook’s body with his elbow.
“no, i— just—,” the stammering is all jungkook’s colours. it makes yoongi smile at the ground. “i’m—,” he takes a deep breath as they stop by the train tracks. there’s a lot of people still out, mostly couples. yoongi flinches when jungkook’s fingers touch his, outside, in public . “i’m just really sorry. i could have— i could have let you fall, it’s stupid—” yoongi sniffs, embarrassed by the sheer warmth that has spread around his chest. “it’s reckless.”
everything about jungkook’s pastime is reckless, but yoongi doesn’t point it out. by the time they reach the churro stand, not a lot of words have been spoken out loud. yoongi fears it’s their lack of familiarity — jungkook’s young age and intelligence, his own lack of interest in most things. kissing isn’t meaningful, unless it’s given meaning to. a crush is just a crush if nothing else is acknowledged. “chocolate?” yoongi asks, then, softly. jungkook nods. they split the final bill of not more than a handful of coins and notes. this time, though, they don’t sit apart. there aren’t a lot of options, so the curb it is, and jungkook looks up, fondly, at the heights above. “you really have to stop being mad at yourself, jungkook.”
“but, hyung —”
“just because something bad happens, it doesn’t mean it’s your fault,” yoongi sighs, and jungkook does, too. “things break.”
“i don’t— i’m scared i’ll hurt you,” he holds the food a bit tighter, from the sound of crinkled paper under his fingers. “i— you’re my— friend .” the word is choked, as if it’s difficult to say it. yoongi feels himself flush again, heat all over the crevices under his skin. friends is a strange concept for them, all things considered. jungkook shakes his head then, ears pink. “no, you’re— more , and i’m— stupid.” their eyes meet. “you’re blushing.”
“well, yeah—” yoongi blinks, swallowing, attention going somewhere else, but not really, and jungkook’s eyes are really wide and really pretty. “we can go up there, if you want.” jungkook starts to shake his head vehemently, no way, hyung, no— . yoongi inches closer purposefully. “there are no people up there.” the building just behind the churro stand is not that tall, but it does have a rooftop, mostly unused. jungkook carries yoongi on his back this time, and it’s strange to wrap his legs about the younger boy’s waist, and hold against him. it feels — good. jungkook looks more like spider-man the moment he stares at the dark horizon, even if it’s difficult to see through all the buildings around them. he pulls his hoodie up, sitting at the railing, legs hanging out. yoongi wishes he had his camera still. he inhales, before sitting on the railing, too. spending time with jungkook has made heights a bit easier to bear (just a bit) (he’s started to shiver). “it’ll grow cold if you don’t—” he’s pointing at the churros still wrapped, but his sentence hangs unfinished as soon as jungkook places a kiss on his cheek. “—what— tharfor —i mean—,” he knows he makes absolutely no sense, and it makes jungkook grin.
the words get lost in shyness, and jungkook looks pleased with himself. they eat then, the way jungkook bites the sugary pastry making the blood run to weird places in yoongi’s body. he coughs, licking sugar out of his lips. “i happy you called, and i—,” he pushes the half-eaten churro into yoongi’s free hand, in order to find something in his backpack. it’s a chocolate box, wrapped in red. “i bought this— for you, and—,” he clears his throat, closing his eyes. “i know i’m not a girl so i shouldn’t—”
“i’m not interested in girls,” yoongi mumbles, surprised, staring at the chocolate box. it’s a valentine’s day gift, because it’s valentine’s day, and yoongi called the night before very knowingly so. jungkook looks flustered in a very attractive, boyish way. “— thanks.” his smile grows wider, and his nose scrunches. yoongi breath comes out stuttery. he offers the churro back. “more?”
it’s very hard not to stare as jungkook nods, cheerful, fingers curling around yoongi’s, teeth sinking into the pastry, chocolate staining the sides of his mouth. he chews, humming, and yoongi’s heart jumps out of the building, possibly. he’s suddenly irrevocably aware that falling is very possible — in every way there is. he might be halfway a skydive, for all he knows. he looks away then. the place where jungkook kissed him still burns. jungkook scoots closer. “hyung,” he starts. “thank you.”
yoongi glances his way. “what for?”
“coming out on a date with me.”
“not a—”
but jungkook kisses him, the side of his lips first, maybe hoping yoongi will turn his head, and he does, fingers loosening around the churros. jungkook gasps. “oh, shit, your churro —” he says, but yoongi doesn’t let him finish, feeling a rush of fear and excitement as he turns to kiss him fully, body swaying the slightest, losing balance. jungkook grabs onto him, then, digging fingers into the wrinkles of his clothes, and his throat produces the nicest hum, making yoongi smile. jungkook’s a good kisser, and it’s quite difficult to stop— but then jungkook trembles all over, fingers grabbing with some more urgency. yoongi pulls back.
“— danger?”
it’s quite the normal occurrence, the odd spider-sense , so he’s not entirely surprised. however, jungkook is the kind of bright red that leaves him speechless. his eyes are big, and his breath is— different, chopped. “no, just— another—kind,” the words get smaller as he says them. “of tingles.”
“ah,” yoongi swallows. he wishes he still had his churro to eat or hold or do something with his hands. both of them are suddenly hyperaware of every small gesture and touch. “it’s cold,” he offers. “maybe you’re just cold.” definitely not cold , jungkook seems to mumble, finally letting go of yoongi, still pink all over, and yoongi was very wrong, pink fits him quite well. he coughs, scratching his head. yoongi looks down at the chocolate box nestled on his lap. “— should we jump and go home? your aunt might— might get worried.”
“she’s already texted me thirty-six times,” jungkook huffs, and yoongi chuckles softly. “we can— take the elevator if you want, this time. you don’t have to—”
“you’re not going to let me fall,” yoongi shrugs, trying to look as nonchalant as possible, even if his glance turns longingly towards the door to the inner parts of the building, where a very safe elevator probably is. “and if you do, i’ll— i’ll just have to stay haunting you. forever .”
“or you could— just— i mean— stay.” jungkook gets up swiftly, touching his nose, pulling his hoodie ever more down. yoongi looks up at him, thinking briefly that his legs are too long. “not only—for pictures and— uh—kissing.”
“you’re stuttering,” yoongi scoffs, poking jungkook’s thighs. it’s the absolutely wrong move, as jungkook coils, and for a second yoongi thinks he’s going to fall. he doesn’t, but yoongi’s heart, already gone, does one last twist before it smashes against the ground down on street level. what are you asking, spider-boy? “are you asking me out, sunbaenim ?” the honorific makes jungkook lose his faint chillness entirely. he makes a sound, something between a strained huff and a groan, before leaning down, balanced as a dancer, to kiss yoongi real hard.
“yeah,” he says, but it sounds more like yhh , sweetness all around him. then jungkook inches back a little. “we—could do that—upside down thing—”
“—agreed.”
they’re laughing nervously by the time they jump, holding onto each other, jungkook’s webs keeping them safe. it isn’t a very tall building anyway. yoongi’s ready to touch the ground when the pull comes, and he’s gasping, feeling his ankles get grabbed, and this is not fucking happening again — but then he opens his eyes, the cold breeze grazing his exposed stomach, and he’s swaying very gently on a string of web. jungkook is upside down, but he isn’t. there’s a lopsided grin on his face. “thought you could try it once—”
“i’m murdering you,” yoongi says between gritted teeth, and it makes jungkook laugh, toothy and pretty and yoongi isn’t sure where his heart is at that point anymore, because his chest just feels flooded with lava. jungkook touches the sides of his face kindly, fingers rubbing his cheeks with care, and yoongi blinks. “ i’m murdering you .”
“ ahjussi , stop complaining.”
kissing jungkook when jungkook was the one hanging from a web felt entirely too different than being kissed while he himself is hanging from a web — and yoongi’s limbs feel suddenly made of jelly, soft all over, stomach dropping. it’s good — too good, very good . “okay,” he nods, nose touching jungkook’s, breathing through weird patterns. “—but i’m getting sick.”
“—shit, okay—” he’s helped to his feet again, with a gentleness that makes his stomach flutter. then they’re standing, awkwardly, absolutely flustered. yoongi pulls onto the webs that stick to the fabric of his clothes. they come off more easily this time. “i— changed the fluid a bit, so it’s doesn’t— ruin people’s clothes.”
yoongi snorts. “smart.”
“i added some esters that might make it solidify and turn into powder after some time, so you can just brush it off, and with the extra pressure to methanol and the carbon tetrachloride—” jungkook stops as soon as he notices yoongi’s arched eyebrows. “i’m— just saying.” he bites his lips. “i guess—i’m babbling.”
“it’s cute when you talk science.”
“i’m always cute,” jungkook pokes yoongi’s ribs. they start walking, towards the street that will eventually split them up. “you’re really lucky to have me.” yoongi doesn’t say anything, feelings the proximity of their limbs too blatant. “— you do have— me, i mean.”
“i’ll call you if i fall off a bridge,” yoongi eventually says, sniffing, smiling. he’s content, pleased with whatever they’re doing. “you can be my personal superhero.” they reach the infamous crossroad too soon. their feet dance around each other, not really wanting to part. “— see you, then.”
jungkook steals the fastest, cheekiest kiss (and yoongi chuckles nervously because they’re in the middle of the street ) before turning the other way, walking quickly, looking over his shoulder just to wave, grinning prettily. yoongi waves back, standing there, watching him go, until he can’t see jungkook’s silhouette anymore. he sighs, then, grabbing his phone.
(22:18) namjoon do you still have that old camera of yours
(two weeks later, and there’s a package by his door. it reads stark industries on the sides. yoongi looks sideways to the empty corridor, then picks it up, shaking it, hoping it’s not a bomb ever too late. inside the box, now sitting on his bed, is a camera — not any camera, a nikon z6, with two adjacent lens. the card is brief, in english: mr. jeon wouldn’t stop pestering me with teenage drama. please let him know you can feed yourself again. - t. stark . yoongi blinks, then cracks up laughing.)
(the next day, yoongi crosses the campus, searching the science building for any sights of jeon jungkook. when he does see him, he smiles. “oy, pretty physics boy,” he calls lightly, not loud enough that a lot of people hear. jungkook looks up from his books. yoongi snaps a picture of him, looking confused and blushy and ridiculously pretty in his lab coat and sweatshirt. his features melt down to a grin, then. “that is a dope camera , sunbae—!”)