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If Jungkook had taken the time to look back, he would have realized something had been wrong for some time now.
The excessive tiredness, the lump in his throat, the constant coughing. It was obvious that something was going on. But he never quite put the pieces together, and so when his voice cracks on a high note during recording, he’s surprised. He clears his throat and tries again, and again his voice breaks.
“Slow down and drink some water,” Jimin calls, leaning over Yoongi to speak into the mic. “You need a break?”
Jungkook considers it. Then he looks at Yoongi, who has that pinched, serious expression on that he gets when he’s stressed. Jungkook’s part hasn’t been coming along the way it should. Yoongi’s a perfectionist, and while part of Jungkook is frustrated with him for it, the rest of him understands. Jungkook’s a perfectionist, too.
“No,” Jungkook says. “I’ll be fine. Let’s do it again.”
Jimin looks like he wants to argue, but Yoongi hits the replay. Jungkook tries to hit the note with everything he’s got. His voice strains, and he breaks into a splutter of coughs, clutching his throat as a spike of pain shoots through it.
“Okay, that’s enough,” comes Yoongi’s voice through his headphones.
The door to the recording booth opens. Jimin hands him a water bottle. His forehead creases with worry. Jungkook takes a welcome chug of water; it soothes his dry throat but causes another twinge of pain, too.
“You’ve been off for a while now,” Jimin says, and of course he noticed when Jungkook hadn’t even realized it himself. “You need to see the doctor.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. You’ve been coughing for like two weeks. And you’ve been having trouble with your voice.”
Yoongi comes to the doorway, leaning against the jamb with his arms crossed. “Jiminie’s right. You should get it checked out before it turns into something worse.”
“It’s probably just a sore throat,” Jungkook mutters. He takes off his headphones and runs a hand through his hair. However much he doesn’t want to admit defeat, he knows there’s no use recording when his voice won’t cooperate. They’re done for the night.
He’s shoving his things into his backpack when Yoongi plops down on the couch next to him. Jimin’s gone off into Namjoon’s studio to bother him while he films a VLive. Jungkook had been planning on dropping in after recording, but now he doesn’t feel like he has the energy.
“I’ll go with you,” Yoongi says, and Jungkook pauses. “To the doctor. Schedule something and I’ll take you.”
Jungkook rubs his nose and returns to packing up, flustered. He doesn’t want Yoongi to feel obligated to accompany him because he’s the youngest. “You don’t have to do that. Sejin hyung will take me.”
“I’ll take you.” Yoongi’s using that firm voice of his, the one no one but Namjoon and Seokjin ever have the balls to argue with.
Jungkook doesn’t want to go to the doctor because right now his problem is a sore throat. And if he goes to the doctor, the problem might be something else, something bigger, and it’s easier to pretend he just has a sore throat. But he knows Yoongi and Jimin are right. The longer he waits, the worse it could be.
“Fine,” he mumbles, and Yoongi nods, satisfied.
Sejin gets him an appointment the very next day. He’s nervous all the way there, though he’s pretending not to be. Sejin drives them, and Yoongi sits in the backseat with Jungkook. He has his headphones in and his hood up, eyes closed as he leans his head against the window, but when Jungkook’s knee starts to jostle from nerves, Yoongi’s hand reaches out to calm it.
The wait for the doctor isn’t any better. Jungkook spends it counting cracks in the ceiling. The doctor is someone they’ve all seen before, so Jungkook’s tension eases at the familiarity. She checks Jungkook carefully, listening to his symptoms, her expression impassive throughout. When she’s done running tests, she calls Sejin and Yoongi back in.
“It looks like you’ve developed vocal cord nodules.”
Her voice is gentle; she knows Jungkook knows what that means. He’s known more than a few idols with the same diagnosis. He’s seen them struggle.
“He’ll need surgery?” Yoongi blurts before Jungkook can open his mouth. Jungkook peers at him from the corner of his eye and finds Yoongi looking more stressed than Jungkook has even begun to feel yet.
“Surgery is a last resort,” she tells them. “We’ll start with behavioral therapy. A speech pathologist will work with you to relearn how to use your vocal cords, and I imagine you might want to get a vocal coach involved.”
Sejin’s nodding before she finishes.
“Behavioral therapy works for many people. It can reduce the size of the nodules. If it doesn’t work, then we’ll look into surgery.”
She prints him some information, and Sejin has a lot of questions. Jungkook feels a little like he’s spacing out. He takes care of his voice. He didn’t in the beginning because he didn’t know how, and his company hadn’t done a great job of coaching the vocalists. But he’s learned since then. He thought nodules happened to people who misused their voices. Sure, he uses his voice a lot, but he’s careful .
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
They have a comeback in two months. Then they’ll have a tour. Jungkook needs his voice. He can’t afford to lose time; none of them can. The impending comeback will most likely be their last as a group of 7, at least for a handful of years.
Yoongi touches his knee again on the car ride back. “It’ll be okay,” he promises, and Jungkook wishes his words still comforted him the way they did when he was younger. “As long as you’re careful, you’ll recover.”
Recovery takes time. Jungkook doesn’t have time.
Their days together are limited; he won’t be the reason they lose any more of them.
When the others find out, they’re predictably upset. Jungkook almost doesn’t want them to know. He loves and trusts them more than anything, but he’s the youngest, the baby, and some of them tend to smother. Jungkook doesn’t like being smothered. He doesn’t want to talk about his voice, doesn’t want to turn it into A Thing. He’s going to work hard, and he’s going to recover, just like he always does whenever his body gives up on him.
Jimin and Taehyung keep hovering around him in the days that follow, like they’re afraid he’ll break down and they want to make sure they’re there to catch him. He doesn’t break down. He just finds it suffocating. Jimin keeps telling him to be careful when they’re practicing. Taehyung keeps shoving him toward the hot water dispenser, as if he isn’t drinking enough damn cups of tea already.
On the third day of this, he ends up snapping at them, fed up with the constant hovering. “Can you guys just leave me alone? You’re so annoying. You don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
“We’re just trying to help,” Jimin huffs.
“Well, stop. Tea isn’t going to do shit to make this better.”
Jungkook spins on his heel and marches back to his studio, locking it firmly behind him. Then he sits in the corner and cycles through the usual loop of regret and righteousness that he has after he argues with his friends. They deserved it. I’m an asshole. They should have left me alone. I’m a piece of shit.
He expects the knock on his door a little while later, but he expects Namjoon or Jimin behind it. They’re the best at dealing with this sort of stuff. Instead, he finds Yoongi, shuffling into his studio with his hands in the pockets of his baggy sweats.
“Save the lecture,” Jungkook mutters, retreating inside, leaving the door open behind him. Yoongi shuts it quietly, then sits down on the couch. For a moment, neither of them speak. Jungkook waits with tension in his shoulders, twisting his fingers together in his lap. He doesn’t like disappointing his friends.
“Wanna get some lamb skewers?” Yoongi finally says. “Hyung’s treat.”
Jungkook’s eyes shoot up to meet Yoongi’s. His are lidded, half-hidden by the hair pushed into his eyes by his beanie. They used to go for lamb skewers all the time. It had always been their thing, just the two of them, on late studio nights or sleepless ones. But they don’t really have time for that sort of thing anymore. Jungkook can’t remember the last time they really hung out, just the two of them.
He knows it’s a ploy to warm him up so Yoongi can lecture him, but he can’t bring himself to care.
“Okay,” he says, and they stand.
They cover up until they’re as unrecognizable as they’ll get. Yoongi drives them to the market where they stop at their old favorite tent and duck inside to sit at a rickety plastic table in the back.
“If hyung’s treating, I’m going to eat a lot,” Jungkook says, like he always does, and Yoongi smiles, like he always does.
“Eat whatever you want.”
Jungkook’s halfway into ordering soju when he remembers he isn’t supposed to be drinking alcohol anymore. He falters, shoulders slumping, and Yoongi jumps in to finish.
“And some tteokbeokki, too,” he says. The woman who runs the tent nods and walks off.
“You’re not getting anything to drink?” Jungkook asks.
Yoongi sniffs and rubs his nose, staring down at the table. “Getting drunk alone is just depressing.”
Jungkook’s lips twitch into a smile.
Their food arrives promptly, and Jungkook doesn’t waste any time digging in. He’s had lamb skewers since the last time he went with Yoongi, sure, but it’s never really the same. He feels oddly content sitting across from him at the table again. The deep upset that has settled in his bones since the doctor’s appointment fades to dullness. He regrets acting so childish earlier even moreso now, but part of him still doesn’t want to return to everyone treating him like glass. He isn’t a kid. He can take care of himself.
“They can be kind of overbearing,” Yoongi says after a while. “I get it.”
Jungkook nods his tentative agreement.
“Especially when everything sucks so much you don’t even want to talk about it. You just want it to disappear.”
Jungkook nods more firmly this time. That’s exactly it.
“But it’s hard to feel helpless when your friend’s in pain,” Yoongi adds, and Jungkook’s lips twist. “Everyone feels helpless, I think. So they want to be useful.”
“Nothing they’re doing is really any use.”
“No,” he agrees. “It isn’t. But if it were any of us in your shoes, you’d be hounding us to drink some damn tea, too.”
Jungkook snorts. He can’t deny it. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Just tell them you want some space and they’ll back off.”
“Will they?” Jungkook says dryly, pushing the last lamb skewer toward Yoongi. Yoongi shakes his head and pushes it back.
“Probably not. But is it really the worst thing if they don’t?”
Jungkook considers it. If they weren’t hovering, he’d feel lonely. He’d want someone to hover. “No. It isn’t.”
Yoongi nods, satisfied. He nudges the last lamb skewer more insistently until Jungkook picks it up and eats.
“Thanks for your wisdom, Min Yoongi-ssi,” Jungkook snarks, and Yoongi gives him a dirty look.
“After all I do for you, you give me attitude? Unbelievable.”
“I learned all my attitude from you.”
“You’re saying that like Kim Seokjin didn’t raise you.”
Jungkook laughs. “I’m gonna tell him you said that.”
“See if I ever buy you lamb skewers again.”
Even after Yoongi returns to his food with a huff, Jungkook’s grin stays plastered to his face. Even in the dim lighting of the tent, Yoongi glows. His brows are furrowed in concentration as he eats, his small nose scrunched up.
“What are you staring at?” he grouches.
Jungkook ducks his head. “Nothing, hyung.”
Yoongo accepts it. The tips of his ears tint pink, but the tent is warm, and Yoongi has always grown flushed easily.
He apologizes to Taehyung and Jimin when he gets home. Jimin hugs him tight and calls him an idiot; Taehyung asks if he wants to play Overwatch . He goes to bed that night feeling a little like maybe he can get through this after all.
🎵
He can’t do it.
He can’t sing without his voice breaking. He’s tired and his throat hurts and he practices and practices and practices until Yoongi bursts into his studio one night and yells at him for straining his voice. You’re gonna make this worse, don’t you see ? But Jungkook can’t just sit around and do nothing. They’re prepping for a comeback, and Jungkook can’t fucking sing.
He’s done everything his therapist tells him to do: he practices his vocal exercises every day, he pays acute attention to the way he uses his voice, he manages his stress and takes care of his throat with tea and humidifiers. When he sings, he integrates the techniques his coach teaches him and is careful not to go beyond his range. But still, no matter how hard he tries, he isn’t improving with the speed he had hoped.
Then Namjoon comes out of a meeting with the company while the rest of them wait outside and tells them they have questions for Jungkook.
“They want to know if you’re going to sit this comeback out.”
“No,” Jungkook blurts before anyone else can even react. “Of course not. Why the fuck would I need to do that? I’m getting therapy, I’m doing everything she’s telling me to do - ”
Next to him, Seokjin puts a hand on his leg. The weight of it is a warm reminder, and Jungkook slows down.
“I don’t need to sit out a comeback,” Jungkook says, lower this time. “We still have a month. My therapy will be over in a week. I’ll be fine.”
“We’re not going to be upset with you if you sit it out, Jungkook-ah,” Hoseok interjects. “You know we want you to take care of yourself.”
“I know that. But this could be our last one before - ” He falters. They all know what he means. “I’m not missing this comeback.”
“Okay,” Namjoon says carefully. “They’re thinking about scheduling a performance at a festival next week. Do you think you can do it?”
Jungkook nods firmly despite the way his heart wavers.
His speech pathologist and vocal coach warn him to sit it out, but he doesn’t listen. The company lets him. They don’t really want him to sit it out, either, and they’re willing to take the risk. He’s extra careful with his voice, continues to do exactly what he’s told, and when the day of the festival comes, he’s unbearably nervous but mostly hopeful. They’ve planned some adjustments to spare his vocals during the performance, and he thinks he’ll get through it.
His body is tired, and the performance ends up being more exhausting than anything. Being on stage is an adrenaline rush, though, and Jungkook rides on that high - he barely even needs his adjustments. He hits a high note that would make anyone proud, even if afterward Jimin pats him on the shoulder and gives him a worried, warning look. His coach and doctor are there to work on his voice with him between rests.
When it’s over, they go out for meat to celebrate.
“How’s it feeling?” Namjoon asks him quietly from his left when they’re settled, leaning in so as not to make it A Thing.
“Not bad,” Jungkook says honestly. “I guess the therapy’s working better than I thought.”
Namjoon pats his leg under the table, and the smile he shoots him is warm and relieved.
The others are laughing, and Jungkook tunes in just in time to catch Seokjin wheedling Yoongi to go night fishing with him.
“I already told you I’m busy tomorrow,” Yoongi’s complaining, long-suffering. “Leave me alone.”
“Not until you tell me why you’re busy.”
“None of your damn business, that’s why.”
“He’s only hiding it because it’s important,” Jimin giggles. “Otherwise he’d have caved already.”
“No more meat for you,” Yoongi huffs. He’s grilling as always, piling everyone’s plates high.
“Come on, hyung, what’s the big secret?” Namjoon says.
“Is no one on my side? Jungkook-ah?”
Jungkook’s heart jumps. He grins. “Come on, hyung, tell us.”
“Brat. Don’t even have you, huh?”
“Date,” Hoseok blurts, suddenly. “You have a date. I remember.”
Jungkook’s heart jumps again, and this time not in quite the same way.
“Hey!” Seokjin’s doubly offended now. “You told Hoseok you had a date but you didn’t tell me? Who is it?”
“Hoseok, open your mouth and I swear to god - ”
Hoseok, of course, spills immediately. “Kid from some rookie group, that one with all the big moves? Kind of old school, their music’s hardstyle.”
“I don’t care about the music, tell me about the guy,” Seokjin cuts in.
“Rookie group?” Jimin snickers. “So not a date, you’re just getting ass.”
“Hey, that’s fucked,” Yoongi complains. “I’m not like that, Park Jimin.”
Jungkook looks down at his food. He moves a rib across his plate.
“Rookie group? Is he even legal?” Taehyung says, and across the table Jimin shoots him a grin. When they team up, they’re insufferable.
“That’s fucked, too, what kind of guy do you all think I am - ”
“The hit it and quit it type, obviously, hyung,” Namjoon answers.
“Hyung can be pretty romantic if he wants, actually,” Hoseok defends.
“So how old is he?” Taehyung presses. “18, 19 - ”
“He’s Jungkook-ah’s age, actually, now fuck off.”
Jungkook clears his throat. “Gonna run to the bathroom,” he mutters, low enough that he doubts anyone even hears him. He stands and slips away from the table, the sound of their laughter following him past the rest of their team.
“Better not be going out for a smoke, Jungkook-ah,” one of their managers calls after him. Jungkook waves his hand good-naturedly.
There’s always the risk of stalkers, but the company has done a good enough job securing the restaurant for the night, and the alley out back is blissfully empty. Jungkook leans against the wall and breathes in the cold air, then tugs a mask out of his pocket and puts it on. He’s not supposed to be breathing cold air. He’s not supposed to be doing anything, really - no smoking, alcohol, cold drinks, cold air, caffeine, shouting, laughing. He’s not even supposed to stay up late.
But he supposes he shouldn’t complain. The treatment seems to be working, after all, and that’s what matters.
The door opens, and he startles, on edge, but it’s just Jimin.
“This is the bathroom?” Jimin says wryly, and Jungkook snorts. He hadn’t realized anyone had heard him.
“Yeah, just pissed on that wall you’re leaning on, so.”
“I’ll look for pictures of your dick in the news tomorrow.”
“Please anticipate.”
Jimin pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, then mutters something and puts them back. “Forgot.”
“You’re allowed to smoke, you know.”
“Not around you. Secondhand smoke is just as bad.”
Jungkook sighs.
“Was it the date?” Jimin asks, not bothering to beat around the bush. “Is that why you left?”
“Hyung, don’t worry about it.”
“I’m worried about it. That doesn’t usually bother you anymore.”
“It doesn’t bother me now.”
“Liar. Look at your face.”
“What about my face?”
“I’m just trying to help. Talk about it.”
Jungkook passes a hand over his face, slumping further against the wall. Jimin’s the only one who knows. Jungkook thinks sometimes Namjoon suspects; it’s his job to suspect, after all. But the years have passed, and Namjoon has never tried to ask.
“We went out for lamb skewers. Haven’t hung out like that, just the two of us. Not in a while.”
Jimin nods. “Feelings have been rekindled.”
“Shut up. You sound dumb.”
Jimin sticks his tongue out. “See if I ever try to help you again.”
“Oh, thank god.” His elbow meets Jungkook’s ribs, and Jungkook splutters a cough. “Hey, I’m an invalid.”
“Oh, now you want special treatment.”
“The feelings don’t matter, it’s just - I dunno. It’s annoying. I don’t wanna hear about it.”
He wouldn’t quite say Yoongi is the hit it and quit it type, but none of his relationships have ever lasted very long - or at all. Maybe it’s better that way. Jungkook doesn’t know how he would deal with something that actually mattered.
Jungkook has only ever tried his hand once, and that relationship didn’t last long, either. But back then, Jungkook was far too gone over Yoongi for anything else to have a chance of working.
“Yeah. I get it.” Jimin sighs. “Well, they’re done now. Come back in. The cold is bad for you.”
Jungkook nods, grabbing the door and letting Jimin in first.
“And next time he asks you out for lamb skewers,” Jimin says, glancing over his shoulder, “say no.”
🎵
When Jungkook wakes up, his voice is gone.
He gargles, drinks tea, and massages his throat. His voice does not come out past a hoarse whisper, and even that much causes him pain. He panics.
There’s no one around. Everyone’s asleep or busy, and Jungkook texts Sejin who gets the car promptly and drives him right to his doctor. She checks him over thoroughly, but the look on her face is grim.
“I told you to take it easy last night,” she says. “They’re growing again.”
“What do we do?”
She shakes her head. “Your therapy ends in a week. Prolonging it won’t do much at this point.”
Jungkook’s heart sinks right to his stomach. He doesn’t need her to say it. He already knows.
“If we want you to recover fully, surgical removal is our best option.”
They’ll have to tell the fans. He’ll be on complete vocal rest for days. They’ll have to postpone the comeback. Maybe he’ll just have to sit out. There’s only so much they can delay before they cut it too close to enlistment.
Their last comeback, and maybe he’ll have to miss it.
There’s a roaring in Jungkook’s ears. He swallows harshly, but it hurts to swallow. He squeezes his eyes shut. Then he stands and leaves the office, unable to tell them he just wants to step out for a minute. They seem to understand; they don’t follow. He stands in the hallway for a long, excruciating time, until Sejin emerges and places a warm, comforting hand on his shoulder.
“It’ll be okay,” he says, and then he heads out, and Jungkook follows.
The company does not hold a meeting that day, on account of the fact that he can’t talk. Instead, Jungkook spends the day lying in bed, staring at his ceiling. When he grows tired of staring at his ceiling, he opens up Weverse and reads through posts by the fans and thinks about how devastated everyone will be when they hear. His voice is everything to him , they’ll say, he must be so sad . But his voice is everything to them, too, and they’ll be just as sad.
Someone on Weverse named AlphaJK97 posts a video of him singing one of Dean’s songs on V LIVE . He loves singing so much, can’t you see the joy on his face? You’re so talented Jungkook-ssi!!!!!
Jungkook snorts. So getting on Weverse was a bad idea, not that he didn’t know that already. He posts a selfie of himself lying there, the flash turning his skin ghostlike, and the response is explosive. Jungkook’s here, Jungkook’s here, Jungkook’s here .
He puts his phone away. Tomorrow, they’ll say, no wonder he looks so sad in that selfie from last night .
Someone knocks on his door. Jungkook doesn’t move, willing them to go away. His voice has returned enough that he can whisper more clearly and less painfully than the morning, but the last thing he wants to do is talk to anyone.
Whoever is outside waits, then knocks again.
“Jungkook-ah, it’s hyung.” Yoongi’s low voice filters through the door. Jungkook glances at the time on his phone. Yoongi shouldn’t be home.
Against himself, he shuffles out of bed and opens the door. Yoongi certainly looks like he’s dressed for a date: turtleneck and trench coat, along with the fancy pair of boots he saves for airport photography. He’s holding a bag of takeout in one hand.
“Lamb skewers?” he asks, lifting it up.
“Aren’t you supposed to be on your date?” Jungkook whispers, and Yoongi shrugs a careless shoulder.
“Let’s go to the river. It’s nice outside.”
Jungkook stares at him, and Yoongi doesn’t push. He waits, and waits, until Jungkook turns away, leaving the door open behind him. Jungkook grabs a leather jacket and switches from sweats to jeans, then he follows Yoongi out.
Yoongi drives, and Jungkook realizes how prepared he is when they find a quiet spot by the river and Yoongi pulls out a blanket. He spreads it over the grass and pulls out a travel mug of hot water and two cups of ramen from his bag to set alongside the lamb skewers. Jungkook finds himself smiling wryly. They eat in silence, but it’s comfortable, and Yoongi was right about the weather.
“Guess you heard,” Jungkook finally says, when they’re nearly done with their food. Yoongi leans in to hear him better.
“Sejin hyung said the doctor thinks we’ll only have to delay the comeback a little bit,” he says, nearly as quiet. “You’ll still be able to make it.”
“If it goes well.”
“It’ll go well.”
“What if I can’t hit the notes anymore?”
“Then we’ll change them.”
“We’ve recorded nearly the whole album.”
“We can record your parts again.”
“It won’t fit. I won’t fit anymore.”
“Losing a few high notes won’t ruin the songs. Seokjin hyung can do them if we need to.”
“What if I can’t perform?”
“As long as you rest the way they tell you to, you’ll recover.”
“What if I don’t recover fast enough?”
“Then we’ll delay longer.”
“What if it takes too long and we can’t make it in time - ”
Yoongi takes Jungkook’s face between his hands. His grip is calloused and cold from the night air, and he turns Jungkook’s face to look at him. The steadiness of his gaze is reassuring, reminds Jungkook to stop and breathe.
“We won’t do this without you,” he says, and his voice is fierce. “We won’t.”
There’s a lump in Jungkook’s throat bigger than the one that’s already there. He tries to swallow past it, but he can’t. His eyes burn. He fucking hates crying in front of the others. Blinking rapidly, he pulls himself from Yoongi’s hold and looks away.
“Okay,” he whispers. “Okay.”
“Other people have gone through this same thing, and they’ve recovered just fine. Your range will change, but we can accommodate. And one day, maybe you’ll be able to build back up to it. There’s nothing wrong with change.”
“There’s always the chance that I won’t be able to sing again.”
“Yes,” Yoongi says. “But when you leave the house, there’s the chance that you’ll get hit by a car. When you eat lamb skewers from a restaurant there’s a chance you’ll get food poisoning and die. When you - ”
“I get it, hyung.”
“Life is full of risk.”
“It’s just - singing is all I have. I don’t have anything to fall back on. You have producing, you make music, but me? What do I have? What’ll I do?”
“That’s not true,” Yoongi says, and the vehemence in his voice startles Jungkook into looking at him again. “You’re fucking good at everything, Jeon Jungkook. You make music, too, and it’s good as shit. There are a million things you can do if you don’t sing. You could become a damn pro gamer, for god’s sake.”
Jungkook gives him a watery smile. “How’s that for a headline? Jeon Jungkook of BTS joins the Overwatch League - ”
“I’d watch all your damn streams until you made it.”
“Yeah?” The fondness that warms Jungkook’s heart feels almost unbearable.
“ What’ll I do , my ass. You’re an idiot,” Yoongi mutters. “You’re gonna be fine, Jeon Jungkook.”
“Okay, hyung,” Jungkook says, the smile not quite fading. “If you say so.”
“I do say so,” he huffs. “Now stop saying stupid shit and finish your food.”
Jungkook picks his box back up. “Okay, hyung,” he says, and wishes he could say much more than that.
🎵
Hello,
This is BigHit Entertainment.
We would like to inform you that JUNGKOOK was diagnosed with vocal fold nodules one month ago and promptly began treatment with a doctor, speech pathologist, and vocal coach. He underwent extensive behavioral therapy to reduce the size of the nodules over the past month, including rehabilitation and vocal hygiene training. Unfortunately, the therapy has not achieved the intended results.
Despite taking appropriate measures toward recovery, various medical professionals have decided minor surgery will be necessary to properly treat JUNGKOOK’s condition. We are confident that with rest and care, JUNGKOOK will make a full recovery soon.
As of now, JUNGKOOK’s health and recovery are our number one priority, and as such the upcoming comeback will be delayed indefinitely until JUNGKOOK can participate. We would like to apologize to fans for the inconvenience. We promise to return to you soon with good news regarding JUNGKOOK’s condition and future schedules.
Thank you.
🎵
Jungkook wakes up to fluorescent lights and a fuzzy feeling in his throat.
The nurse smiles at him when she sees he’s up.
“We’re just letting the anesthesia wear off,” she tells him. “Then we’ll wheel you back to your room. Remember, you’re on complete vocal rest for 5 days, so we’ve got pen and paper if you need something.”
He nods with a heavy head. For a while he lies there, noting that the room feels awfully cold, and listens to the noise of the hospital: the nurses padding around, the beeping of machines, the squeak of wheels on linoleum. He’s tired. He could go right back to sleep, thinks he does doze off a little as he waits, growing aware again when his bed begins to move.
His parents meet him in the hospital room. They fuss and fret, and though they’ve already had the argument, his mother insists again that he ought to go home with them to recover. But Jungkook spends comeback time in the dorms, they always have, so he doesn’t want to go to his parents’ home or his own apartment. Part of him needs to insist on normalcy or else he’ll start to lose hope.
The boys are waiting at home for him when he gets there, wheeled in since he’s still dizzy from the anesthesia. Jimin’s wearing a massive pair of corny sunglasses that spell CONGRATS, and Jin’s blowing on an air horn. Even though he’s only been gone a few hours, they’ve hung up a banner that says WELCOME HOME JUNGKOOK!
It’s silly and he finds himself smiling, waving and giving them all a thumbs-up whenever he’s asked a question. But he’s tired, and he’s still scared; yes, he made it, but he doesn’t know the condition of his voice. And he won’t know, not for a while.
Yoongi’s wheeling Jungkook toward the kitchen where they’ve brought what looks like a cake. Jungkook isn’t hungry. He places a hand on Yoongi’s arm, and he doesn’t have to do any more than that; Yoongi pauses almost instantly.
“Hey, I think Jungkook wants to rest,” he calls. “I’m gonna get him upstairs.”
Jungkook makes a shooing motion when they glance back at him in concern.
“He says go eat your damn cake,” Yoongi translates.
Their worry eases into amusement. Yoongi takes Jungkook to the stairs and helps him stand so he can climb, leaning on the railing. When he’s safe in his bed, he shoos Yoongi away, too.
“Take it easy,” Yoongi says, pausing in the doorway before he leaves. “No point stressing about something you can’t control, yeah?”
Jungkook shoots him a thumbs-up, and Yoongi eases the door shut behind him, cutting off the light that filters in from the hallway. For a long moment, Jungkook lies in the dark, silence pressing upon him like a weight.
Then he pulls out his phone and opens up Twitter .
There are videos of him singing everywhere. There’s heartbreak and worry and pessimism and optimism and people are arguing, though he can’t quite figure out what they’re arguing about. Some people are mean, too, as they always are. Some people are bitter. But mostly, there’s a lot of love.
Jungkook tries to focus on the love.
🎵
Long after the voices from downstairs have faded away, someone knocks on Jungkook’s door.
“Hey, it’s hyung. Throw a shoe at the door if you want me to go away.”
The corner of Jungkook’s mouth twitches up in a smile.
Yoongi waits a beat before opening the door. He’s holding a pillow tucked under his arm. He leaves his slippers by the foot of Jungkook’s bed and climbs in next to him, fluffing out his pillow and shuffling around before he finally makes himself comfortable with a huff.
“Buy a fucking pillow. You’re rich.” He punches the side of the rolled-up towel under Jungkook’s head.
Jungkook’s smile widens. He reaches out and smacks Yoongi’s stomach.
Yoongi pulls his phone out and Jungkook does the same, transitioning from Twitter to Weverse . A notification pops up promptly.
yoongi hyung 9:06 pm
hows ur throat feeling
jjk 9:06 pm
ur allowed to talk u know…
yoongi hyung 9:06 pm
yeah well it sounds like im talking to myself and its weird
jjk 9:06 pm
the pain meds are making me loopy so. throat feels fine
yoongi hyung 9:06 pm
damn wish u could talk then
jjk 9:06 pm
i have nothing to hide thanks
yoongi hyung 9:06 pm
yeah yeah
yoongi hyung 9:09 pm
get off twitter. its self-harm
jjk 9:09 pm
im on weverse stop looking at my phone
yoongi hyung 9:09 pm
get off weverse then
jjk 9:09 pm
hyung arent u gonna get me lamb skewers im sick
yoongi hyung 9:09 pm
are u even allowed to eat
jjk 9:09 pm
yes
yoongi hyung 9:09 pm
tomorrow. lunch
jjk 9:09 pm
its a date
They’re quiet. Jungkook goes back to Weverse . Someone posts a meme of Yoongi holding a cup of beer and Jungkook sends him a screenshot. He responds with a huffy sticker. Jungkook scrolls past an old video of him performing with Zion.T. He can still remember exactly how nervous he was, how it had felt to stand up there next to a singer he admired. Another dream achieved.
jjk 9:17 pm
hyung do u ever think it would have been better if our dreams stayed dreams
yoongi hyung 9:17 pm
yeah
all the time.
jjk 9:17 pm
this wouldn’t matter so much if i wasn’t jeon jungkook of bts
i could just rest
yoongi hyung 9:17 pm
you can rest, jungkook-ah. you can rest as long as you want
Jungkook thinks about the videos on Weverse and the military enlistment and the last comeback and -
jjk 9:17 pm
i can’t
Yoongi doesn’t answer. And then, quietly, a whisper in the darkness, “Yeah. I know.”
Jungkook shifts to face him. He’s lying on his back, staring at the ceiling, hands clasped over his chest with his phone between them. He drops his head to the side to look back, brown hair falling into his eyes.
“What happened to us?” Yoongi asks softly. “We used to be so close.”
Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut. They used to be so close. And then Yoongi’s presence grew and grew until it was too much, too overwhelming, and Jungkook didn’t know what to do but run away. There was too much at stake. He’s Jeon Jungkook of BTS, after all.
jjk 9:23 pm
sorry
“Don’t say sorry.” Yoongi sighs, a gentle breath of air. “I miss you.”
jjk 9:25 pm
i miss you, too
Yoongi reaches over and ruffles Jungkook’s long hair. He smiles, starlight from the uncovered window glinting off his teeth. That’s why they aren’t close anymore. Because Yoongi still treats Jungkook like a kid, and Jungkook wants so badly to be something else.
“Go to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning, yeah?”
Yoongi slips out of bed, taking his pillow with him. Jungkook opens his mouth and remembers at the last second not to speak. Goodnight, hyung. His lips shape the words, but Yoongi doesn’t see.
🎵
“Stop leaning out of the camera,” Yoongi huffs for the tenth time, tugging Jungkook’s head against his. “I can’t hold it out that far.”
Jungkook shifts so he’s seated a little further back than Yoongi, enough so that he can rest his chin on Yoongi’s shoulder. Problem solved , he mouths, and Yoongi shoots him a look through the camera.
“Okay, I’m starting it.”
Yoongi goes live, and Jungkook watches the view count rise as people begin to get the V LIVE notification. He’s still on vocal rest, so he has a stack of paper and a sharpie in front of him. The first one says HI ARMY!
He’d asked Yoongi to go live with him, having grown tired of seeing the fans’ worry all over the Internet. He thought a quick stream would convince everyone he was alright, and maybe things would start to calm down. Yoongi wasn’t as convinced, but in the end he had agreed to do it.
“A thousand viewers,” Yoongi mutters in that characteristic way of his. “We’ll wait until we get six thousand to start. Everyone must still be getting the notification.”
People have started to comment. Jungkook gives them a small wave, his chin still planted firmly on Yoongi’s shoulder. When the views rise enough for Yoongi to deem them acceptable, Jungkook holds up his second sign: I'm still on vocal rest so hyung's talking for me! He's flooded with "get well soon" messages in response. Many of them ask how he’s feeling. Jungkook starts to scrawl an answer on a clean sheet of paper.
“He’s supposed to be resting,” Yoongi says with a good-natured nudge. “But he spent all morning blowing up my phone asking if I’d help him do a live.”
Jungkook pauses to scrunch his nose at him before holding up his sign. My throat is a little sore, but I’m feeling fine! I slept 12 hours...
“He really did,” Yoongi comments. “Out like a log. I thought he’d never wake up. You know he sleeps with his mouth wide open?”
Hyung , Jungkook mouths, elbowing him. Everyone’s endeared.
“Let’s read some comments,” Yoongi hums, leaning in and squinting. “This one’s asking how long Jungkook-ah’s on vocal rest. Well, technically the minimum is 3 days, but the doctor recommended a full 7 since we want him to recover well.”
Jungkook nods his agreement, and Yoongi hunts for another comment. Someone’s hoping Jungkook will cut his hair before the comeback. Jungkook catches it, scrolling up the comment stream with his finger and gesturing to it. Yoongi frowns immediately.
“Someone wants Jungkook to cut his hair,” he says, reaching behind him to ruffle Jungkook’s hair. “I like his long hair, actually.”
Jungkook’s scrawling out a message asking if everyone likes his short hair better. Yoongi flicks his pen and shakes his head.
“He can do whatever he wants with his hair,” Yoongi tells the camera. “It’s his hair.”
Jungkook nudges him, but Yoongi’s already moving on to the next comment. “When’s the new comeback date? It’s a secret. Right, Jungkook?”
Jungkook nods. He writes out a new message: Yoongi hyung’s going to show off his sexy charm in the comeback song .
The comment stream goes absolutely wild, and Yoongi’s ears turn red. He glares at Jungkook half-heartedly, but Jungkook only grins in return. Please anticipate!!! he writes for the fans, and Yoongi mumbles a complaint under his breath.
They stream for about half an hour before Yoongi starts looking restless and Jungkook decides to take mercy on him. He writes a goodbye message, and they wave themselves off. Later, Jungkook scrolls down Twitter to read the reactions. He finds lots of screenshots and gifs of tiny moments, quotes of funny or thoughtful things they’d said, but mostly he begins to see a few images repeat themselves.
Of course, he had expected the shippers to come through; they always do, even when there’s nothing to notice at all. Jungkook has had a difficult relationship with them throughout his career. In the beginning, they’re the ones who had forced him to reexamine the way he acted around Yoongi. They’re the reason he had stepped back and realized he had feelings to begin with, a process that had been mostly painful. They’re also the reason he had begun to distance himself from Yoongi; every picture of them laughing together, of lingering glances or fond smiles, serves as a painful reminder.
Streaming with Yoongi and going on Twitter afterward was a self-destructive move, so Jungkook doesn’t have the room to feel sorry for himself. He finds himself caught on images of the way he looks at Yoongi, like he can’t stand to look away. The fans seem to enjoy pointing out how intensely Jungkook hangs onto Yoongi’s words in small clips of their stream. But there’s also something else that catches his attention. There’s Jungkook and the way he looks at Yoongi, but there’s also Yoongi, and the way he looks at Jungkook.
One gif is making the rounds. Jungkook leaning back, running a hand through his hair. Yoongi turning to gaze at him, his eyes flickering down Jungkook’s neck, back up to his jaw. The way he continues to stare until Jungkook shifts, leaning toward the camera, and the spell is broken.
Jungkook loops the gif, over and over, until he begins to wonder if he’s seeing things.
Then Namjoon calls Jungkook into his studio for a talk one afternoon.
Jungkook isn’t expecting anything, so he walks in without fear. By then his vocal rest is over, though he’s meant to keep usage to a minimum and still can’t sing, so he assumes Namjoon wants to talk about the comeback. Instead, Namjoon sits across from him with that open, gentle expression he gets when he’s about to broach something very serious.
Then he asks Jungkook if he likes Yoongi.
Jungkook’s heart leaps into his throat. He reels back unconsciously, hands tightening into fists over his knees and shoulders stiffening. Namjoon’s gaze remains open, but he doesn’t soften his words. He waits.
Jungkook swallows harshly. “What do you mean?”
“I think you know what I mean, Jungkook-ah.”
“Is this because of the V LIVE ? You know how the fans are, they talk - ”
“I’m not one of the fans,” Namjoon points out. “I know you. Both of you.”
Jungkook works his jaw. He looks down at his boots. He doesn’t know what to say, if he should deny it and keep his secret, or if the universe has given him a chance to finally come clean. “Does it matter?” he finally asks.
Namjoon leaves his seat and comes to sit next to Jungkook on the sofa instead. He rests a hand, warm and comforting in its weight, on Jungkook’s knee. “You’re my brother, Jungkook-ah. It matters.”
“His brother, too,” Jungkook says, bitter, and Namjoon knows what he means.
Unexpectedly, he snorts. “Yeah, I don’t know about that.”
Jungkook finally looks at him, and Namjoon’s lips are twisting in amusement. His eyes twinkle. “What do you mean?”
“I saw that gif.”
“Hyung!”
“What? I have eyes. He has eyes, too.”
Against himself, Jungkook laughs. The air feels less heavy. “Oh my god.”
“Look, I want to know because you guys are important to me. And because I want you to know that if the two of you decide to date, that we’ll be on board.” Namjoon pats his knee gently. “We can officially clear it with everyone else, but unofficially, everyone’s okay with it.”
“Everyone knows?” Jungkook breathes, eyes a little wide. He hadn’t realized anyone besides Jimin knew. They’d talked about them? He feels uncomfortably seen.
“We all have eyes,” Namjoon says wryly.
“I think you’re misunderstanding. I mean, I do - I do feel that way. But hyung doesn’t. He’s never given any signs that he does. I’m just - I’ve just been trying to get over it? And I did get over it, for a little while. Moving out helped. But, um, lately - lately it’s been hard, that’s all.”
Namjoon shakes his head. “I think you’ve been ignoring some signs, Jungkook-ah.”
Jungkook doesn’t know what to say. His heart pitter-patters. He doesn’t want to hope, not after so long.
“You can’t chase your feelings away,” Namjoon murmurs. “They’re valid, yeah? Respect them.”
“Hyung,” he says, weakly.
“If you like him, you deserve to tell him how you feel.”
“But I don’t - I don’t - ”
“I know it’s hard. Just think about it, okay? I just wanted you to know that we all love and support you no matter what.”
Jungkook swallows through the lump in his throat. He nods, hair falling into his eyes. “Thank you, Namjoon hyung.”
Namjoon slings an arm around his neck and knocks their heads gently together. Then he pats his back and gets up. “Come in later so I can show you some adjustments I’m making to a song.”
Jungkook nods. He dashes at his eyes surreptitiously and slips out of the room.
🎵
Unsurprisingly, Jungkook finds himself outside Yoongi’s studio door.
He hesitates, wondering if he should even be here. Everything still feels unreal; he can’t imagine a world in which the members know how he feels, in which Yoongi might reciprocate. Jungkook doesn’t know how he feels; he just knows that the first thing he wanted to do when he left Namjoon’s studio was see Yoongi.
He knocks; there’s no answer. Yoongi falls asleep at his desk more often than not, so Jungkook keys in the password and enters. Aside from Yoongi’s desk, the rest of the studio is neat and clean. The desk is covered in beer cans, empty cigarette boxes, and crumpled pieces of paper. He must have been working all night, but he’s nowhere in sight now. Jungkook wanders over to the desk, grabbing a handful of cans and tossing them in the recycling bin. He returns for the boxes, eyeing the only piece of paper left uncrumpled; he’s used to being nosy about Yoongi’s music, so he doesn’t think twice before picking it up and reading it over.
It’s a love song.
Jungkook reads and rereads it. It’s self-sacrificial and about someone with a childish smile and eyes that contain universes and Jungkook reads it again, reads it again, and stares at the scrawled letters in the very corner of the paper. JK .
The door opens.
Yoongi’s gaze goes from his face to the paper in his hand. He blanches, letting the door swing shut behind him. Jungkook can’t find any words to say. He stares at Yoongi, holding the paper out, waiting.
“You were having a rough time,” Yoongi says, swallowing visibly. His voice sounds a little hoarse. “I wanted to give you something.”
That’s fine. That makes sense. They’ve given each other songs before, among the seven of them; Yoongi had written a song for Jimin just last year, and Jungkook’s writing one for Hoseok right now. But this isn’t that kind of song.
“Hyung,” Jungkook starts, his voice sounding tinny even to his own ears, “this is a love song.”
Yoongi swallows again. He hunches into himself, turning his face away from Jungkook, like he can’t bear to look at him. He doesn’t give him an answer. Jungkook closes the distance between them; he can hear his heart beating in his ears, filling the silence.
“Hyung,” he tries, but Yoongi won’t look at him.
Jungkook feels like he’s floating out of his body, dangling by the ceiling looking down. He sees himself reach out, fist a hand in Yoongi’s collar, force him to turn back. His mouth’s moving.
“Hyung,” he’s saying. “Did you write me a love song?”
Yoongi stares resolutely at Jungkook’s chest for a long moment before he finally looks up. His shoulders sag. His eyes droop. “Yes.”
Jungkook’s brought violently back into his body. His grip tightens, and before he can think, he’s pulling Yoongi in for a kiss.
Yoongi’s mouth is soft and only a little chapped. At first he’s stiff, still, and then he melts into it all at once: his arms wind around Jungkook’s neck, fingers threading into his hair, his mouth moving insistently against Jungkook’s in return. Jungkook lets his collar go, pulling him in until there’s no air between them, arms tight around his waist. Everywhere Yoongi’s body touches his is warm and very, very real, leaving the rest of him faded in comparison. For a moment, it’s as if only the Jungkook who stands in relation to Yoongi exists.
In all the dreams he’s had of kissing Yoongi, he had never quite believed it would really happen.
Yoongi breaks it first. He fists his hand tight in Jungkook’s hair, holding him close, pressing their foreheads together. Jungkook takes a moment to feel Yoongi’s breath tickling his lips, their noses brushing, before he dares to open his eyes. Yoongi’s cheeks are flushed, his eyes open and flickering over Jungkook’s face, like he’s trying to memorize him. Like he can’t quite believe he gets to look at him.
Jungkook swallows, breathes. “Hyung.”
Yoongi’s gaze flickers from his eyes to mouth. He steals another kiss, this one soft and quick, Jungkook’s lower lip caught between Yoongi’s teeth when he pulls back. Jungkook chases his mouth, unwilling to let him go this time, and he can feel Yoongi’s smile against his.
“We should talk, baby.”
Yoongi’s voice is rough, and Jungkook’s heart clenches. Baby . His arms around Yoongi’s waist tighten, and he hums his dissent, nose pressing into Yoongi’s cheek. “Not done yet.”
Yoongi laughs, quiet and breathy, and Jungkook can feel it against his body. “Talk first, kiss later.”
“Don’t like that.” Jungkook kisses the corner of Yoongi’s mouth. He feels drunk on their closeness. “I like you. That’s all I have to say, anyway.”
Yoongi turns his head to catch Jungkook’s mouth with his own. His tongue traces the seam of Jungkook’s lips, and Jungkook lets him in, tasting him with growing urgency. This time, when they break apart, both their chests are heaving.
“Like you, too, baby,” Yoongi murmurs, and Jungkook grins.
“See. Talk’s over.” He drags Yoongi over to the couch and pushes him onto it.
Yoongi leans his head back, hair falling into his eyes, and smiles up at him, warm and indulgent. “Okay,” he says, reaching up to drag Jungkook down. “Talk’s over.”
🎵
When the high of their joint confession fades, the anxiety settles in. They do talk, standing on the terrace of their dorm, cool air stirring their hair. Their shoulders brush, and Jungkook’s stomach clenches with nervousness, but he feels okay. Better than he has in months.
“I thought you saw me as a kid,” he admits. “Even now.”
“I did for a while,” Yoongi tells him, cold air curling around his lips. Jungkook can’t stop looking at them, remembering the way he tastes. “And then I didn’t.”
“When did you realize it?”
“I don’t know if I can name a moment,” he muses. “It happened slowly. Then all at once. Before I knew it, I was writing you love songs in my dreams.”
Jungkook laughs. “Who knew you were such a romantic?”
“Who knew?” he agrees, a wry twist to his mouth.
“Would you have ever told me?”
“No,” he says. “I didn’t plan on it. Didn’t think you were interested, didn’t think we’d be able to convince the others. Then you got the nodes.”
He pauses, and Jungkook hums for him to continue.
“I dunno, you were so sad and saying stupid shit about how you didn’t have anything else and then we were spending more time together and - it just all came back. And I couldn’t push it away this time.”
“So you wrote me a song.”
“So I wrote you a song. I was going to give it you when I finished recording. But every day I went back and forth on whether I would really do it or not.”
“Good thing I found it, or you might have debated forever.”
“I don’t know if I ever would have done it,” he agrees. ““What about you? Would you have ever told me?”
“Absolutely not,” Jungkook says honestly. “Then Namjoon hyung told me he’d figured it out and that he thought you liked me back. I don’t know if I would have done it, though. But I thought about it.”
“Yeah?”
“I’ve been in love with you forever, hyung.” It feels strange to admit it after keeping it a secret for so long.
The way Yoongi gazes at him is soft, and Jungkook’s chest clenches. He looks away, overwhelmed in the best of ways.
“Long as I can remember,” he breathes. “It was always you.”
Yoongi’s hand covers his over the railing, twining their fingers together. “Can’t believe Namjoon figured it out.”
“He said everyone knows.”
Yoongi laughs, shaking his head. “It’s a wonder they’ve managed to stay quiet about it until now.”
“Jimin’s known for a long time. We’re too close for him not to have figured it out.”
“I had a feeling Hoseok suspected, but he never said anything.”
“Namjoon hyung said everyone was okay with it. That they all supported us.”
Yoongi’s smile grows a little sadder, a little fonder. He looks down at their backyard garden, lashes casting shadows on his skin. “Of course they do,” he says. “As if I didn’t love them enough already.”
Jungkook’s heart swells. “Look at you,” he teases. “Big softie.”
Yoongi doesn’t even try to deny it. “Yeah,” he mumbles. “There’s the company, though. There’s always that.”
Jungkook nods. “I know. But I don’t think hyung would have told me to go ahead if he hadn’t considered that first. He must have something up his sleeve.”
Yoongi’s quiet. When he speaks again, his voice is soft. “This is real, then. We can do this.”
“We can do this,” Jungkook echoes, squeezing Yoongi’s hand in his.
Yoongi turns his body to face him, leaning against the railing. “Then I’m gonna take you on a date. Been wanting to do that.”
Jungkook’s smile stretches his face painfully wide. “I want lamb skewers.”
“Yah, we always go for lamb skewers. That’s not even a date. Let me take you somewhere nice.”
Jungkook shakes his head, still smiling wide. He steps in until they’re chest-to-chest. “Want lamb skewers, hyung.”
Yoongi scoffs, his eyes impossibly fond. He reaches up and strokes a hand through Jungkook’s hair. “Yeah,” he says. “Whatever you want, baby.”
🎵
Slowly, Jungkook begins to sing again. He starts with basic vocal exercises and works his way up under the guidance of his coach. They test his range and find that, as they feared, it has changed. He can’t hit the notes he could before. Their comeback songs are adjusted, and he records them again. It would be a lie to say he takes it well. He hides his struggle from the others, but at night he lies awake and listens to his voice from before, his old voice, and he regrets.
But there’s nothing he can do besides move on, and so he holds his head high and moves on. At least he can still sing. At least he has a voice. He holds onto that reality with an iron fist, and with time, he knows his new voice will no longer feel new.
It’s difficult to find time amid comeback preparation, especially with the added work, but Yoongi and Jungkook find time. Even if they only manage an hour lying next to each other before they fall asleep, they find time. They learn each other again, without the guardedness of before, and sometimes Jungkook wonders if his life has become a dream he might wake up from at any time. With the hardship of his surgery, the universe has given him indescribable joy. Being with Yoongi feels like a flower that blooms each day anew.
He’s happy.
The others are insufferable and wonderful all at once. They have their official meeting with the rest of the group, where Taehyung makes at least three innuendos, Seokjin calls Yoongi a cradle-snatcher, and Jimin starts crying. Namjoon wants to speak personally with Bang PD about it; he has a whole case prepared, he promises them, and Jungkook tries not to burst into tears alongside Jimin.
The path ahead won’t be easy. Adjusting to a changed voice, dealing with the fans’ reactions, convincing the company, maintaining a relationship amidst the hectic swirl of their lives. It won’t be easy, but when Jungkook’s with Yoongi, he feels invincible. He feels endlessly hopeful, like everything will be okay - must be.
The universe gave him Yoongi, and Jungkook won’t let it be in vain.
🎵
Before their first comeback performance on an American TV show, Yoongi takes Jungkook’s face in his hands and presses their foreheads together.
“They’re going to love you,” he promises. “They won’t even notice.”
Jungkook laughs at that. “They notice everything, Yoongi hyung.”
“They won’t care. They love you.”
“They’ll be disappointed, some of them.”
“Then I’ll be proud enough for all of them.”
Jungkook smiles, tracing Yoongi’s cheek with his fingertips. “You’ll be proud enough for all those millions?”
“And more.”
Yoongi kisses his nose and lets him go. Jungkook takes a deep, long breath, preparing himself for what’s ahead. He has practiced and practiced, and he knows he won’t mess up. Still, the worry sits under his bones like an old friend.
Jimin squeezes his shoulder, pulling him in for a brief hug. “You’ve done so well, Jungkook-ah. Don’t forget it.”
Hoseok delivers a wet kiss to his cheek and tells him, “New year, new voice, new you.”
Jungkook’s still laughing when Taehyung shoves him good-naturedly, squeezing his cheeks between his fingers. “If anyone says anything mean, I’ll scold them on Weverse tonight.”
“I’ll be right there with them,” Seokjin promises. “I’ll stream an entire V LIVE . Just remember that nothing anyone says matters more than what we say, yeah? We know you best. So don’t worry about them.”
Jungkook nods his agreement and takes Namjoon’s hand when he reaches for him. “I’m so proud of you, Jungkook-ah,” Namjoon tells him. “We wouldn’t be here without you.”
“Don’t make me cry,” Jungkook mutters, alarmed at the lump forming in his throat.
One of their stylists, hovering in the back, calls, “If you ruin his makeup, I’ll kill you.”
They laugh, and Jungkook accepts well wishes and good lucks from the rest of their team. He meets the members by the stage entrance, where they put their hands in and complete their customary chant. The chanting of the crowd outside thrums in his blood. Jungkook squares his shoulders and steps out into the blinding lights.
He was born for this. He’ll be okay.