Archive of Our Own

Kim Taehyung is one of the smartest people Jungkook has ever met. He's observant, and persistent, and has an eye for art and photography that even Jungkook sometimes envies. He's friendly, and kind, and always willing to be the shoulder that carries the weight of strangers' worlds. But fuck, if he isn't also one of the most forgetful people on the face of the planet. 

"How could you forget your keys?" Jungkook half-laughs, half-huffs, while grabbing his own from his paper-strewn desk. Taehyung's rattle against them as he stuffs them in his pocket. "Didn't you lock the door behind you on your way out?"

"I left with Jin this morning. And I know you're going to be late in your studio, and Jin will be at his friend's, and Jimin will be working. So I'll need them to get in. Please, Jungkook? You'll be my favorite roommate forever and ever."

"I already am," Jungkook jokes. He knows Taehyung doesn't (usually) play favorites. "Send me your work address." 

"Sugar and Gloss. The book café on Ninth street."

Jungkook doesn't really know where that is, but Taehyung sounds hurried, so he doesn't push it. Working just outside of a college campus must come with the sort of after-class and before-class rush that requires all hands on deck. "Okay, give me fifteen minutes."

Taehyung makes a satisfied little noise. "You're the best! Hyung loves you."

Jungkook rolls his eyes fondly, though he knows his roommate can't see him do so. "Love you too." 

The weather isn't too bad today. It's raining, yes, but it's the kind of lazy drizzle that Jungkook doesn't even need a coat for. And while the puddles on the side of the road remind him of heavier downpours, the bus doesn't even make a splash as it rolls through them and to its waiting clients. The windows are all fogged up when he boards, and Jungkook hums slightly as he traces small shapes on his--stars and moons and galaxies unobserved. He likes the quiet lull that comes between morning and noon, when the world hasn't quite settled on what the day will bring. 

Ninth street is a couple stops past where he normally gets off, but he finds it easily enough. And the place Taehyung described is there in the dead center of it, a used book café that has squeezed itself between a record store and a retro-looking diner. There's a large window right in the front, the panes kissed by frost. When he peers in, Jungkook sees a couple seated at a small round table, chatting about life; a lone elderly woman, gazing at the passersby; and there, working furiously at one of the espresso machines, a certain forgetful roommate of his. Jungkook smiles, and opens the door. 

A small bell announces his presence. 

"Hello," a rich voice greets him. Though the man has probably recited the line a thousand times by now, he doesn't sound bored in the slightest. "Welcome to Sugar and Gloss." 

Jungkook glances to the register, and his heart decides to beat a little bit too quickly. The man working there is tall, and handsome, and has the slightest shadow of a dimple on his left cheek. It's devastating. "Uh, thanks," Jungkook manages, and is very proud of the fact that he does so. 

At the sound of his voice, Taehyung's head shoots up and he abandons the shots and steamed milk in favor of practically launching himself over the counter. "Jungkook! Did you bring my keys? You're the best, thank you, thank you!"

Jungkook holds the keys in one hand and fondly returns Taehyung's aggressive side-hug with the other. "It's no problem, really. My class doesn't start until eleven."

"You should stay, then! It's going to rain harder later on. Yoongi said so and he's never wrong."

"Yoongi?" Jungkook asks, and then immediately remembers late nights, a bit tipsy, with teasing complaints spilling from his roommate's tongue. "Oh, right, your boss."

"Speaking of which," the man at the register says, not unkindly, "You should probably get back to work before he figures out you've put your boyfriend over your customers."

"Jungkookie isn't my boyfriend," Taehyung protests, ruffling Jungkook's hair fondly. "He's my roommate. And he's a customer, too. Just you wait, Namjoon will make you something extra-special." 

"Oh, I--" Jungkook begins to protest, but the man behind the register is already humming thoughtfully and Jungkook's eyes are drawn to the black apron he wears, where the name 'Namjoon' is carefully stitched in thin white letters. His mouth goes dry. 

Taehyung thanks him one last time and pockets his keys, before hopping back around the counter to complete the drink and call it out. A medium caramel latte to go. Jungkook rarely steps foot inside of coffee shops--Taehyung, who hates coffee as much as Jungkook does, had forced him to try it once and Jungkook's been avoiding it ever since. He supposes an iced Americano is always a safe bet--it has plenty of espresso, but it's watered down, and he can always add cream. He hesitates, but Namjoon looks so thoughtful and so excited and okay, maybe Jungkook wants to hear his voice, just once more. 

"Um, I'll get..."

"Here," Namjoon interrupts, smiling kindly, and suddenly the dimples aren't shadows anymore. He offers Jungkook a small sample cup. Steam curls from the top of it, but Jungkook isn't really sure what it could be or where he grabbed it from. "Try it." 

"Oh, Jungkook doesn't like straight coffee," Taehyung calls from the back, where he's grabbing more straws. 

Jungkook's fingers brush against Namjoon's and his mind goes blank and he suddenly forgets what coffee is or what it tastes like. 

He gulps down the sample, and is regrettably forced to remember. "Ah," he manages, wrinkling his nose in displeasure. 

"No?" Namjoon laughs, and it's worth the bitterness of the drink just to hear him do so. "I'll make something sugary, then. Not coffee, I promise."

"Oh," Jungkook says, feeling shy and awkward and just a little bit hopeless. "Thanks."

"Will that be for here or to go?" 

"For here, I guess," Jungkook says. He still has forty minutes before his class begins, and he'd been hoping to actually get some work done on his essay, anyway. "And can I have, um..." he glances at the pastry case, which boasts berry scones and chocolate muffins and crème brulee cheesecakes. "Um, just a slice of banana bread, please, with that?"

"Sure thing," Namjoon says. He rings Jungkook up (their hands brush again and Jungkook feels his cheeks flush), and then offers another smile. "I'll make yours myself. Taehyung, wanna take the register?" 

The younger boy nods vigorously from where he's standing, fixing part of the display to maximize it's aesthetic quality. 

"It's Jungkook, right?" Namjoon asks, and Jesus Christ, Jungkook's heart needs to calm down, because it does a little backflip when Namjoon says his name. 

He clears his throat. "Um, yes. That's me. Jungkook. And you're Namjoon?"

"Right. It's good to meet you, Jungkook."

"It's good to meet you, too." 

Jungkook finds a little booth to sit down in, and he rifles in his bag for his laptop and his textbook and the research papers he'd printed out before hand. Half of them are already littered with yellow highlighter, with small notes marked in the margins. It's for one of his favorite classes, so he doesn't mind all that much. Art History--the second term in the three-term sequence. He's quite proud of his paper, too, or what little he has written. It might be impossible to finish in forty minutes--or, well, twenty-five if he wants to make it to class on time--but he'll get a good chunk of it done, he's sure.

There's something about the little café that feels good for his soul, for his creative juices. It smells like baked bread and coffee grounds and warm milk. Soft pop music plays in the background, and it's overlaid with the murmurs from surrounding friend groups and punctuated by Taehyung's loud laughter as he charms a customer. Taehyung's boss had been right--it is starting to rain a bit harder, creating dew drops that splatter against the glass windows. Jungkook hadn't brought his coat or an umbrella, but he'll be quick when he's walking to class, so he can't be too upset. It's soft and quiet and warm. He thinks he could probably live here if given the chance.

"Here you are," a voice says, and Jungkook looks up sharply, startled. He meets Namjoon's eyes, which glitter with amusement, and then looks right back down at his papers, ears burning. A slice of walnut-banana bread appears before his nose, followed by a butter-yellow mug that holds something... sweet, definitely. It smells vaguely of cinnamon.

"Thank you," he says, and finally sets down the pen. 

"I want to see you try it," Namjoon replies, instead of leaving him be. 

Jungkook wrinkles his nose again--not in disgust this time, but in amusement. He feels a bit shy, but he lifts the mug to his lips and takes a sip, even as Namjoon chides him with a "careful, it's still hot." It tastes... warm, yes, but both in temperature and in flavor profile. There's the cinnamon he'd smelt before, lingering on his tongue, and it's definitely hot chocolate with... something else sugary as well. A special sweetness that he fails to place.

"I like it," he says, and he doesn't know why it comes out as a whisper. "It's really good."

"Really?" Namjoon asks, seeming pleased. "Any adjustments for next time?"

Next time. Jungkook likes the sound of next time. "It's perfect," he says, and means it.

And next time when he visits (to the surprise of Taehyung, who had protested with a "hey, I remembered my keys this time!"), it's perfect as well.

-

The third time he visits, it's four-thirty on a Friday afternoon. Jungkook really doesn't have much to study--nothing due on a Saturday, anyways, and Fridays are his short days, so his classes finished early. But he has an art commission that he's been avoiding, and he has Philosophy notes to look over. Fucking Philosophy, which he's struggling in. He's passing, but with a precarious C+, which isn't very promising going into midterms week. 

He exhales heavily, glancing at the fog outside. It's funny, how late it curls around the walkways. He's spent a good five minutes scribbling little creatures in the margins of his paper, and now he flips over one of the notebook pages, and begins drawing on the back of the lined surface. Eyes, nose, dimples. A face. One that he hasn't seen at the register yet, and one that he's afraid might not work on Fridays. 

But then someone slides into the seat opposite of him and Jungkook's pen flies off his paper and he quickly flips it over and tries not to look startled. 

"Sorry," Namjoon says. It seems he's always apologizing for one thing or another, and in another circumstance Jungkook would find it endearing. As it stands, he only feels a slight guilt for making Namjoon feel like there's something to apologize for. The elder slides a mug across the table. "Same as usual. I hope you don't mind."

"Oh, but I haven't paid for it yet."

"On the house," Namjoon offers. Jungkook brings the mug to his lips, and inhales slowly. Cinnamon, sugar, cocoa. There's a whipped cream topping to it this time. "Consider it a long-term investment."

"What's that mean?" Jungkook teases, lips still tingling from the warmth of it. 

Namjoon laughs softly, and reaches toward Jungkook, who doesn't move away. His thumb swipes near Jungkook's lip, and comes away with a stray bit of whipped cream. Jungkook's lip tingles where Namjoon left him. "It means I'm hoping to see you again."

"A lot?" Jungkook asks, feeling bold. 

Namjoon doesn't give him time to regret it. "Hopefully, yes. What are you working on?"

"Hm?" Jungkook looks down to where his messy notebook lies next to a Philosophy textbook, open to a random page. Something about metaphysics, he thinks. Or... idealism? He can't remember. "It's for my Philosophy class."

Namjoon cocks his head to the side slightly, eyes flicking down. "'Nothing is divine but is agreeable to reason,'" he quotes. Maybe from memory, maybe from the book. Jungkook hasn't yet read this chapter. "Immanuel Kant. He had some interesting ideas. Some call him the founder of morals, but personally I think that written morality existed far before his time. What do you think?"

"Yes?" He's beginning to word everything as a question, and it's a Friday afternoon, which means he should be at home with Taehyung and Jimin and Jin getting drunk and playing video games, but instead he's decided to park himself in a cozy book café, pining after someone he's interacted with twice in his entire life. "I'm not sure," he admits, after a moment. "I'm not doing so well in the class, to be honest."

"Boring?"

"No, it's not that!" Jungkook protests. He can tell Namjoon is passionate about the subject, and he doesn't want to accidentally insult... well, anything he enjoys, really. "It's interesting! I just have a hard time... remembering all that, I guess. Or applying it."

"Making it relevant to today," Namjoon says, understanding. "I can help, if you want."

"Don't you have work?" Jungkook asks, shy. His mug is warm where his hand hasn't left it. And there's a fog about his brain, but it's more pleasant than the one lingering outside. Here, in this café, it feels like time has slowed just a little to allow shelter from discomfort. 

"I'm off in thirty minutes, if you don't mind staying. I know you probably have better things to do on a Friday night..."

"I don't mind," Jungkook says, too quickly. 

Namjoon's smiling like he'd said it just right. "Great! I'll see you then, Jungkook."

"Right." And if Jungkook's eyes are shining, it's just the reflection from the fairy lights strung across the ceiling. He thinks he likes it here. He thinks it feels like home.

The thirty minutes pass by quickly enough. Jungkook texts the group chat he shares with his roommates, letting them know he'll be home a little later. Studying, he says. Taehyung and Jimin send back small phrases full of teasing doubt, and Jin sends a string of emojis that makes Jungkook choke a bit on his cocoa. He spends the time finishing his portrait of Namjoon, catching glimpses of him as he rings up orders, warms mugs of tea, shakes hands with a toddler's stuffed bear. Once, their eyes meet, and Jungkook's cheeks burn a little to be caught looking, but he doesn't look away and he gets a grin back as his reward.

It's warm here. Jungkook feels warm.

Then, Namjoon is turning in his apron and he disappears for a couple of minutes before returning to Jungkook's booth with a coffee in one hand, and a bookbag in the other. He's wearing a knit black beanie now. He wasn't before. It looks nice on him. Jungkook thinks that almost anything would look nice on him.

"Hey," Namjoon says.

"Hi." Jungkook has finished his cocoa, but there's a bit of whipped cream still melting in the bottom of his cup. He's tempted to scoop it up with one finger, but he doesn't want to be embarrassing, not when he's finally going to get to talk to Namjoon, one-on-one, for more than just a couple-second snatches. 

"So, Kant."

"Yeah," Jungkook says, trying not to sound morose. "I have my last quiz here, but the midterm is going to be in written format, defending a, um. A philosopher's position, so..."

"Any philosopher?"

"I think so..."

"Tell me what you're interested in, then. Something you're passionate about. It might help me."

"Passionate about... in ethics?"

Namjoon takes a sip of his coffee. "There's got to be something."

There really isn't, but Jungkook takes a moment to think. "Maybe... some examples might help?"

They talk for longer than they'd meant to, and if Jungkook's attention hadn't been riveted on the man in front of him, he might have been able to watch the sun set and the customers slowly filter out of the shop. He glances down at his phone, which is lighting up with a message from Taehyung--something about the three of them ordering takeout, and if Jungkook wants anything--when he sees the time. Six-thirty. An hour and a half, spent solely on ethics and idealism and freedom and morality. And Jungkook had been interested in it. Something in the way that Namjoon words things... it makes even the simplest of topics, or the most complex of them, sound like poetry. 

There had been tangents of course--funny stories from classes, whispered observations about a customer at a side table, explorations into other classes and topics and books they've both read. It's easy to talk to Namjoon. And it's easy to listen to him. 

Namjoon must catch the time too, because he interrupts his own story. "Oh!" He says, sounding somewhat alarmed. "I'm so sorry. I've been rambling for so long now, I've kept you... I'm sure you have to go."

"It wasn't rambling," Jungkook had wanted him to keep going, to explain every caveat and detail. "Really, don't worry about it. You've helped me a lot. Thank you." 

"Your midterm is next Thursday, right?" Namjoon makes to get up from the table, and Jungkook feels something like regret pool in his stomach as he gives a confirmation. "Good luck! Tell me how it goes."

"I will," Jungkook agrees. He gathers up his own things, and Namjoon walks him to the bus stop before heading in the opposite direction, and Jungkook knows exactly why he can't stop smiling. And thinking about it only makes him smile harder. 

"What are you so happy about?" Jin asks accusingly as soon as Jungkook steps through the door. "You never told us what takeout you wanted, so we had to order everything, just in case. Shame on you."

"We would have anyway," Jimin admits, before Jin can continue with his playful scolding. Jungkook knows it's all in good humor, anyway. Besides, they'll have a hard time dampening his spirits. "How was studying?" 

"It was fine," Jungkook says, thinking of warm cocoa and poetry. "Great, yeah."

"What were you studying?" Taehyung asks, and Jungkook isn't really sure why he's looking at Jungkook so fiendishly. He's leaned up against the counter, next to Jin, who's divvying up bowls full of noodles and chicken and soy sauce packets. Jungkook moves purposefully away from him, seating himself beside Jimin on their overstuffed orange couch. "Art history?"

"Philosophy."

"Ah!" Taehyung exclaims. Jungkook doesn't really like the sound of that. "But you hate Philosophy."

"Well, I found a tutor."

"Namjoon?"

Jungkook nearly leaps up and off the couch. Instead, he presses his back further against it, like maybe that will help him disappear with the embarrassment of it all. He knows he can be a bit obvious when he's pining after someone, but really, Taehyung had reached that conclusion far too quickly. "How--" Jungkook begins, then cuts himself off. No. No 'hows,' no confirmations yet. "What? Why would you think--"

"He loves Philosophy, and I know you've been studying at our work a lot this week. He must have helped you." Taehyung pushes himself away from the counter, grinning deviously, and sits on the ground so he's facing Jungkook, craning his neck to look up far too innocently. "Is that why you're so happy? I knew you must've liked him, that's so cute!"

Jimin coos in the background while Jin finishes the last of the special Kim-Park-Kim-Jeon household takeout bowls. "Namjoon? Isn't that Hoseok's roommate?"

Taehyung's purses his lips as he thinks it over. "Yes, that's right. Yoongi's, too. He lives with our boss, we always tease him for it."

"Well," Jin says, carrying over two bowls, and handing one to Jungkook. "You should tell us all about this 'studying,' then."

"Hyung," Jungkook whines, trying even harder to disappear. 

Their laughter carries them through the night, and the rain begins to patter against the windows of the third-floor apartment once again, but Jungkook finds himself hardly caring. And when the others put on some reality show that Jungkook's never seen before, he finds himself fading, his thoughts more fixated on a cozy little coffee shop than on the playful ranting of his roommates.

And later, when Jin and Jimin have already fallen asleep on top of each other, and Jungkook is nestled cozily beneath Taehyung's arm, his head resting on his roommate's shoulder as the latter gently strokes his hair, he murmurs: "I really like him." 

"Hm?" Taehyung plays with a specific strand, twisting it around one finger before letting it go. It's clear that he, too, is on the verge of exhaustion, in that space between dream and wakefulness that makes confessions so easy, that makes the darkness seem like a friend, that makes everything feel just left of reality. But this is reality, and saying this much, even if not to Namjoon himself, sends a thrill through Jungkook. "Who?"

"Namjoon." Jungkook is so tired that he doesn't know if he'll regret it in the morning, he doesn't know if he'll want to take it back and covet it to himself for awhile longer, but his eyelids are drooping and he whispers, "I just really like him a lot."

Taehyung laughs softly. "Don't worry, I won't tell him. Go to sleep, Jungkookie."

Jungkook does not need to be told twice. When he falls asleep, he feels more at peace than he has in a very long time. 

-

It isn't like Jungkook purposefully memorized Namjoon's entire schedule. It just kind of... happened. Jungkook would come in every day before classes and Namjoon would sit with him during his break, and for fifteen minutes, they would get lost in conversations about art or poetry or music. Jungkook had shyly showed Namjoon a few of his drawings, and a couple of his edited photographs, and Namjoon had gazed at them with the proper amount of respect and commented on elements of the composition that Jungkook had only sometimes intentionally included.

Jungkook learned about Namjoon, too. About how he loves to write songs and music, but claims he can't sing for the life of him. And how he raps sometimes with his roommates (Yoongi and Hobi--Hoseok, Jungkook remembers), but how he's too shy to do so in front of Jungkook. Or maybe just too shy to do so in front of the other dozen customers browsing bookshelves and nursing cups full of oolong tea. Either way, Jungkook begs him for just a bit of a sample every time they see one another, and every time Namjoon laughs and rubs the back of his neck and makes an excuse that Jungkook doesn't believe. 

Jungkook still hasn't forgotten his midnight confession to Taehyung. The one where he'd whispered I just really like him a lot, and the way his soul had felt... in place, afterwards. Like something had clicked and stuck and it would be impossible to tug it away now without a little bit of heart-break. 

Sometimes when Jungkook visits Sugar and Gloss, Taehyung sees him and Namjoon sitting together, laughing and sampling drinks out of the other's mug, and he winks at Jungkook over his shoulder. Every time, Jungkook feels himself flush and burn and look away, hoping that Namjoon doesn't notice.

("You still haven't gotten his number," Taehyung chides him later, teasing. "You've been talking to him for weeks now. He thinks you're cute, you should ask him out."

"No, I--" Jungkook begins, and then he flushes and burns and flashes a smile. "He... thinks I'm cute? Really?" 

Taehyung laughs and hits Jungkook's shoulder, but not in a mean way. Jungkook is still too focused on his previous words for it to really hurt. "Obviously. I have his number from the group chat at work. I can give it to you, if you want." 

Somehow, that feels like cheating. It feels a little like skipping ahead, and even though his soul is still locked in that comfortable-yet-exhilarating place where the thought of Namjoon brings him, he isn't quite sure how to take another step forward. How to go about actually asking Namjoon for... anything more than their thrice-weekly conversations. "It's okay, really," Jungkook dismisses. "I think... It's alright."

Taehyung shrugs and doesn't push it and then suggests the newest anime that Jin has been binge-watching without him, and their conversations stray away. Even still, Jungkook has that little thought lingering in the back of his head-- Namjoon thinks I'm cute. I like him so much and he thinks I'm cute.)

It takes until Thursday of Finals week for Jungkook to fully pluck up his courage. It's Namjoon's break, and they're talking about how their respective exams went (Jungkook, with Namjoon's help, had dragged his Philosophy grade up to a solid B going into the Final, and he's almost certain that he passed the course.) They're talking about music and art and life, and Jungkook's fingers are trailing from his mug of hot cocoa and over the notebook he'd brought in on his second visit to the café. He takes a deep breath and flips open the pages and finds the portrait he'd doodled of Namjoon, that second time they'd met. 

Namjoon grins a little even before seeing it properly, his dimples making Jungkook's heart skip around once more. "What's that?"

"It's you." Jungkook tries not to be embarrassed, but he feels a bit shy and tugs one of the sleeves of his sweater over his sweating palm. "I, uh... I know it's not much, but I just felt like drawing you, I guess. It's from awhile ago, actually, but..."

"That's incredible," Namjoon gushes, leaning forward to catch better sight of it. When he's this close, Jungkook can smell the sharpness of his cologne. "Wow, you're so talented. I wish I could draw like that. And look, you even caught my dimples." He flashes them again now, smiling down at the paper. "Thank you. For drawing me. I'm glad I was worth drawing."

"Of course," Jungkook says, baffled that Namjoon would ever think otherwise.

Namjoon's phone pings and he glances down at it instinctively, then curses. "Hey, I have to get back to work. I'm off soon though, so if you want to stay...?"

Jungkook always wants to stay. Wherever Namjoon is, he'll stay there. He nods eagerly. "Right, yeah. I have to catch up on commissions anyway."

"Great!" Namjoon makes to get up, and then pauses before heading back behind the counter. "Actually, can I take a picture of this? It's alright if you say no." 

The thought of Namjoon permanently having access to actual proof of how much Jungkook admires him is a bit embarrassing, but Namjoon looks so hopeful that he can hardly say no. The elder smiles, snaps a photo, and then thanks him one more time before joining the man with dyed-blonde hair--Yoongi, he remembers--behind the coffee bar. They exchange words, Namjoon laughs, and Jungkook watches for awhile before turning to his portfolio and opening up his drawing files. 

There's quiet pop music playing in the background--something that plays on the radio at least twice an hour. He isn't paying a lot of attention, but he is singing along quietly to the parts that he knows. Just the chorus mainly, and part of the bridge. He's run out of hot cocoa, but the hum of people around him having their own private conversations, combined with the wind occasionally gusting at the windows and buffeting the creaky exterior wood, is enough to keep him warm. 

"That's beautiful."

Jungkook jumps again as Namjoon slides across from him. "What?" 

"Your singing voice. It's beautiful."

"Oh," Jungkook says, heat rising to his face as he saves his files and closes the program. "It's not much, I know. I'm out of practice."

"Did you used to be in practice?"

"I used to love singing," Jungkook admits. "I was in the choir at my school. But then I came here, to University, and I just... got busy, I guess."

"Do you want to be in practice again?" Namjoon isn't accusing or pressuring or anything else that Jungkook has sometimes come to expect from the numerous instant messages on social media from his old vocal directors. Instead, he seems just genuinely curious. It's freeing. It lets Jungkook think for a moment, without providing his gut reaction of a defensive remark or an automatic 'no, I'm too busy, I don't have the time, I--'

"I think so," he admits out loud. "It helps me, I think. It's hard to explain."

"No, I get it," Namjoon says. "Music is like that. It is for me, anyway. It lets you express things that... might be hard to express otherwise. Maybe art is like that for you, too."

"Yeah," Jungkook says. He thinks there's truth in each of his paintings, a piece of his soul that he sends into the world to be critiqued. "Yeah, I guess it is."

"Well," Namjoon says, and he rubs the back of his neck in that way Jungkook has come to associate with his own personal brand of being overwhelmed. By positive things, by negative things, by stress-inducing things, by potentially awkward things. "If you ever do want to be in practice again, or just... mess around or anything, I actually... well, one of my songs has a part that I've been looking for someone to sing for. It's just a demo, so no pressure if you're not comfortable, but it would really help me out, and I'd love to hear your singing voice again..."

"Would I get to hear you rap?" Jungkook jokes, but his heart is skipping a bit and his soul feels anchored and this sounds something like a date. 

Namjoon laughs, short but full. "Yes, fine. If that's what it takes to convince you." 

Jungkook grins widely. "Then I'm in."

The mild surprise and not-so-mild elation on Namjoon's face is enough to make it worth it already. "Really?" he asks, half-incredulous. "Are you free Saturday?"

Jungkook isn't sure, but he nods anyway. He will be free Saturday, even if he has to cancel other plans to make sure of it. 

The surprise is fading from Namjoon's face, and it leaves behind that pleasant glow that warms Jungkook from somewhere shallow in his chest, somewhere already half-filled up with flowers. "It's a date, then," Namjoon declares, and the space half-filled with flowers overflows.

It's a date. It could mean nothing, or it could mean everything, and Jungkook feels a bit like he's flying. "Great," he says, hoping he doesn't sound breathless. "It's a date. But I don't have your number for...?"

It's a good thing Namjoon interrupts him, because Jungkook had had no idea how to finish that sentence. He'd been too excited, too determined, too and not enough. "Right," Namjoon butts in, taking out his own phone to exchange numbers. "Here. I'll text you my address if that's alright. Yoongi's got a bunch of equipment, he's created practically a music haven in there... me and Hoseok invade it all the time." 

"I can't wait to see it," Jungkook says, honest and open and true. This time he really does sound breathless. 

"Saturday," Namjoon promises, finishing typing his number into Jungkook's phone. "I'll see you then?"

"See you," Jungkook agrees. He texts Namjoon that night, just before bed--a  simple sort of text, letting him know Jungkook's number, asking about the time and address. Namjoon responds just a minute later, and Jungkook stares at it, smiling stupidly at his phone until eventually, sleep takes him.

-

Friday passes far too slowly. Jimin is the last in the household to finish his Finals, and that night the others celebrate in their typical manner--takeout and soju and a racing game that Jungkook always beats them in. 

"I'm not drinking tonight," he says, ignoring the bottle someone pushes toward his face. "I--" His eyes are focused on the low-quality screen, where he's fallen behind into second. "I'm helping Namjoon with something tomorrow, and he wanted to get an early start."

Taehyung pauses the game and launches forward, tackling Jungkook off the couch. "You have a date! You didn't tell us you had a date!"

Jungkook laughs loudly, pushing him off. "It's not a date. He didn't say it was a date." But he did. 'It's a date.' 

"What are you helping him with?" Jimin asks, sprawled across Jin's lap, face slightly flushed from laughter and drink. 

"He wants me to sing something. He's really into music, and he's working on his own mixtape right now. His roommate--Yoongi, not Hoseok--has some equipment so I'm..."

"It sounds like a date," Taehyung interrupts, pouting and climbing off of Jungkook and onto the couch, pushing Jimin aside to sit between his two elders. His pout ascends into a smile, one that makes his eyes squint. "You'll have to tell us everything tomorrow. I can't believe he asked you out."

"He didn't," Jungkook repeats, climbing to his feet, but he can't resist matching Taehyung's smile. That flowering place in his soul makes him feel breathless.

"Abandoning us for love," Jin says dramatically, falling back onto the couch and draping one arm woefully around Taehyung's shoulders. "Just be back before midnight, or I'll have some words for Kim Namjoon." 

" Jin," Jungkook protests against being drawn into the small dogpile, but he falls on top of his roommates, laughing as someone hugs him tight and someone else ruffles his hair. It's late when they all return to their own rooms, and it's early when Jungkook awakens the next morning. The world is cloudy, but Jungkook hardly cares, and the only person up is Jimin, who grimaces at a piece of burnt toast but waves goodbye kindly enough. 

Namjoon had sent Jungkook his address, but he'd also told him to meet outside of Sugar and Gloss, since his apartment is somewhat close by. When Jungkook hops out of the bus, thanking the bus driver, he spots Namjoon, standing there in a black sweater with two coffee cups in his hand. He hands one to Jungkook before Jungkook can really process everything--the speed his heart is pumping, the way the world is gently shifting, the sight of Namjoon's dimples against white fog. 

"Hot chocolate," Namjoon says, and Jungkook takes it. "Thought I might treat you to brunch, too, if you haven't eaten yet." 

Jungkook hasn't--he'd forgotten that important step in his excitement, and his stomach growls now to remind him. "Oh," he says, blowing on the cocoa to cool it. "I'd love that. I mean, if you really don't mind--"

"I know just the place." Namjoon leads him a bit further down the road, and they exchange anecdotes about the day they'd missed together. Namjoon tells Jungkook about some of Hoseok's dance routines, and Jungkook tells him some about some of Jimin's, and despite his growling stomach, Jungkook can't remember a time he's felt so full and favored and fond. The place that Namjoon takes him to is a breakfast-all-day sort of a place, and they seat themselves in a booth near the window, facing the passing cars. 

"I want to hear about the song," Jungkook says, still holding tightly to his paper cup. "What's it about? It's for your mixtape, right?"

Namjoon seems pleased that Jungkook remembered, and he nods enthusiastically. "Right, yeah. I have about ten songs for it so far, but it's still in the earlier stages... I guess I'm trying to tell a story. I'm always trying to tell stories with my music, but this is different..."

Jungkook listens intently, like he always does, and adds in comments where he thinks they might be useful. Even when his pancakes arrive, warm and soft and fluffy, he can't take his eyes off of Namjoon. There's this way he lights up when he speaks about the things he loves, and Jungkook wants to watch him light up like that forever. 

They finish their food and their hot chocolates and bus their own table. It's one of those places where they go to the register to pay, and there's an entire case of desserts and pastries greeting them when they do so. Carrot cakes with candied nuts sprinkled on top, rich chocolatey cakes, wildberry muffins with cream cheese fillings, and...

"Oh, there, look!" Jungkook exclaims, reaching instinctively for Namjoon's hand. He does that sometimes when he gets excited--he grabs onto Jin or Taehyung or Jimin to get their attention before his mind can fully catch up. His face immediately goes warm with embarrassment, and he almost pulls away, but Namjoon doesn't let him. Instead, he curls his hand around Jungkook's, smiling over at him fondly.

"What?" He asks. "The brownies?"

"No, the banana bread. It's my favorite, but..."

"We'll also take a slice of the banana bread to go, please," Namjoon says. He keeps a tight hold on Jungkook's hand and reaches with his free hand to pay.  And he keeps hold of Jungkook's hand on the way out of the restaurant, on the walk to his apartment, on the climb up the single flight of stairs. He only lets Jungkook go when he has to unlock the door. 

"Sorry about the mess. That's mostly my fault," Namjoon apologizes as they step inside. There isn't even much of a mess, and Jungkook tells him so, even when Namjoon gives him a doubtful look. "Here, it's in our spare room, right here."

The equipment might be basic or it might be complex--Jungkook isn't sure of the difference, really--but he is suitably impressed by the setup. There are a few screens, and microphones that are better than the shitty headset Jungkook used to have for gaming with his friends back home. He obediently follows Namjoon to one of the swivel chairs, and watches as Namjoon settles in, like he's been here so many times it's become force of habit. One of the computers has a larger screen than the others and Namjoon shifts through several files, finally settling on the one he wants. "This one," he says. "Alright, the lyrics are over here... it might take more than a day, but...?"

"But I'll come back," Jungkook promises, eyes always on Namjoon. 

There are those dimples again. Jungkook's fingers itch, wanting to trace the lines on stray sheets of paper. "Here," Namjoon says, oblivious. "The beginning is meant to start softer, kind of quiet, and then it builds... I can play the backing track for you, give me a second."

"I want to hear you rap," Jungkook blurts out. When Namjoon snaps around to look at him, Jungkook straightens up, holds his ground. "You promised."

"I did," Namjoon agrees reluctantly. "Ah, I feel shy about it now..."

"Don't," Jungkook says. "I bet you're great." 

And he is. When Namjoon plays the first track of his mixtape, Jungkook can feel the elder's eyes on him for the entire three minutes. There's something that's so captivating about the inflection and the word choice and the way the instruments in the background fade out to emphasize specific phrases. It's enchanting and haunting and energizing, all at once. Jungkook wants to listen again, needs to listen again, if he's to fully understand all the lyrics and subtle choices. 

"Again," Jungkook breathes, feeling awed. "Please, hyung? Again?"

Namjoon obliges his request, and then he plays a different track, and Jungkook wants that one replayed as well, but Namjoon cuts him off. "We'll have to start with your vocals if we want to get out of here at a decent hour," he pushes back. 

Maybe Jungkook doesn't want to leave at a decent hour. Maybe he wants to stay with Namjoon until the sun sets and rises again, on the opposite edge of the sky. Instead, he pouts slightly, and sweeps back his hair. "Right," he says. "You said it starts out quietly...?"

The lyrics are as beautiful as the melody, and Jungkook almost doesn't feel worthy of singing them. But when he begins, Jungkook gets lost in the world that he's created. He sings it all the way through, tripping up slightly near the end, but it feels... good. To sing again. To really sing again, and not just in the shower or while bothering Jin when his roommate's busy studying. It makes him feel buzzed in a way he hasn't felt in a while. "Sorry," he says, clearing his throat. "I'm kind of rusty, I warned you..."

"That was beautiful," Namjoon says again, and Jungkook flushes slightly at the praise. Just like in the coffee shop--that was beautiful. 

"I missed some of the lyrics near the end," Jungkook admits. "And there was a note I kind of flubbed in the middle..." Namjoon brings him a glass of water, and they run it again, twice, three times. After the fourth one, Namjoon shuts off the mic, tucks it away.

"That one was perfect," Namjoon says. "We're going to use that one. It's just a demo, but... this could be the real thing. I really think you're good enough to go big with this kind of stuff."

"I don't know," Jungkook says. He wants to say: it's because of you, it's because of your lyrics, it's because you reminded me what it felt like to do something I used to love. Instead, he just rubs the back of his neck--he's picking up on too many of Namjoon's habits--and looks up with hopeful eyes. "Can I listen to the rest of your mixtape now? Please?"

Namjoon agrees with only a bit of reluctance, providing him with a pair of headphones to hook up to one of the other computers so he can listen to it while Namjoon works. Jungkook listens and he watches from a distance--but not too far, never too far. Sometimes he takes out his phone and types out a message to Taehyung or plays one of the games he's installed or nibbles on the banana bread they'd bought earlier in the day. It's quiet, but it's a comfortable sort of quiet. Jungkook has always respected people who can be comfortably quiet. He's always valued the relationships that can grow without words.

(At one point, one of Namjoon's roommates--Yoongi, from the coffee shop--opens the door and sees them. He mumbles a quick "ah, sorry," before backing out again and Jungkook stares after him, a bit shy, a bit confused. 

"Should I go introduce myself?" He asks, not really wanting to leave. He doesn't want to be rude, though, and Namjoon's spoken so highly of his friend...

Namjoon's eyes don't break from the screen. "Oh, you'll see him next time. You can introduce yourself then."

Next time. A tiny thrill gets sent through Jungkook's chest at the mention of a "next time" and another flower blooms in that coveted spot near his heart. Next time.)

It's late by the time they finish up. They listen to the finished product all the way through once and then Jungkook insists that they listen through it again, and his grin grows wider as he hears new details every time. Namjoon explains some of the elements, and some of his reasoning behind certain discordant notes, certain instruments that he's brought in that may seem unconventional, but together it culminates into something beautiful. 

"I don't know about the middle," Namjoon frets, fiddling with something in his hands. "I feel like there might be something missing there that..."

"I think it's perfect," Jungkook says honestly. "It's amazing. You're amazing."

Namjoon stares at him, smiling broadly at the sudden compliment. There's a shyness to his movements as he shifts away, and Jungkook follows the motion. "Yeah?"

"Yes," Jungkook insists. "Your whole mixtape is going to be great. It already is, really."

"I hope so," Namjoon says, but he doesn't sound quite so worried anymore.

They must have been in the studio for longer than either of them had thought, because the world outside the windows is dim and black and speckled with stars. Yoongi had left dinner in the fridge, and Namjoon warms up two bowls, one of which he hands to Jungkook. They both keep bringing up random threads of conversation, equally reluctant to let the night end. 

"The last bus leaves in half an hour, doesn't it?"

Jungkook looks down at his empty bowl, wishing it was full again. "Yeah..."

"I'll walk you to the bus stop," Namjoon offers, placing both dishes in the sink. "I'm sorry about taking up so much of your time today, I didn't realize it would take so long..."

"I had fun," Jungkook argues. "It was really cool to see you work like that. I've always wanted to know what goes on behind the scenes. I... I used to write music, sort of, nothing big, but..."

"You can come over anytime," Namjoon says too quickly and just quickly enough. "I'd love to hear something you've written." 

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, of course." Namjoon holds the door open for him, locks it behind them, and follows Jungkook down the stairs.

Darkness has eaten up the sky. Darkness, and clouds--puffy and grey and overbearing, hovering over their heads. Street lights flicker on, and the sidewalks are empty save for a couple chatting quietly as they pass by the stairs, and an elderly man whose cane taps against the curb as he carefully steps off to cross the road. A misting rain seems to fall, but there are no puddles on the ground, and Jungkook's eyes widen as his mind processes the sight.

He grabs Namjoon's hand, squeezes it once in his excitement, and then scurries out of the overhang, spinning in place once joyfully. "Snow!"

"Ah, really?"

"Yeah, look!" Jungkook sticks his tongue out, trying to catch one of the flakes and failing. He feels a bit childish, and maybe a bit embarrassed, but he's also so excited that he doesn't really care. It hasn't snowed for months and months--not since early December, and now it's mid-March. It isn't supposed to snow in mid-March but here Jungkook is, being tickled by frozen droplets that melt against his eyelashes, his nose, his outstretched tongue. 

"Lucky us," Namjoon says, watching him closely. 

"It's supposed to be a good sign, snow," Jungkook says. He doesn't know if it's true, but it sounds nice when he says it. He's sure there are snowflakes stuck against his dark hair, against the hem of his coat. The cold is beginning to bite at his nose, and he shuffles his hands together, blowing on them to keep warm.

Namjoon is looking at him with a smile so fond that Jungkook can hardly stand it. "What?" Jungkook asks, grinning shyly.

"Nothing." Namjoon says, and then thinks for a second. "I want to kiss you."

Jungkook stills, smile never fading. "What?" He says it again, softer this time.

"Sorry." Immediate regret pools over Namjoon's face and he stumbles a bit as he tries to step further back, ankles hitting the stairs. He winces slightly, grabbing at the railing with one hand and rubbing the back of his neck with the other. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I--"

Jungkook steps forward, so close that he could reach out and brush a fallen eyelash off of Namjoon's cheek. So close that he could kiss him. "It doesn't make me uncomfortable," he says, quiet. "I... want that, too."

"Want what?" 

Jungkook scrunches his nose slightly, amused. For someone so smart... "I want... to kiss you. I like you, Namjoon. So much, that sometimes..." He wishes he could speak as eloquently as the elder, he wishes that he were a poet instead of a painter, he wishes for so much. 

Most of all, he wishes for Namjoon. Instead of speaking, he reaches out and brushes the eyelash off of Namjoon's cheek, and lets his fingers stay there, lets his palm feel the warmth of the elder's skin. And then he leans forward, kissing his cheek shyly, and then the place just next to his lips, and then, finally--

It's warm and clumsy and awkward at first, their noses clashing in the middle and they break apart to giggle for a second before their lips meet again. It's soft. And there's still a hint of sweetness on Namjoon's lips, cinnamon and sugar left over from conversations over cocoa. Namjoon's hands wrap around Jungkook's waist to pull him closer and Jungkook laughs and draws away to pepper paper-light kisses against Namjoon's cheeks, his mouth, his nose. 

"I like you," he says again, "so much."

Namjoon has that shine in his eyes again, that one he gets when he talks about the things he loves most. The one that Jungkook wants to watch forever and ever and ever. "I like you so much, too," Namjoon says.

And it's snowing and freezing and cold, but here, beside Namjoon, Jungkook feels so very, very warm.