Work Text:
If Jungkook was to be asked what his favorite time of the day was, he'd say pre-dawn.
Pre-dawn hours had made for him some of the best memories he'd had with his hyungs; such as Yoongi letting him slip into his studio to help him produce, or the first time Namjoon praised him for the lyrics he'd wrote, or once an impromptu picnic date with Hoseok, or a surprise trip to Tokyo with Jimin, or a six hour long overwatch marathon with Taehyung.
He'd written Begin and Euphoria and Decalcomania during the same wee hours of the morning, light barely breaking past the horizon as he'd stood up to look outside his window, papers strewn all over his studio floor. He'd made the split decision to join Bangtan at 4:52 at the dot, mind heavy with the thought of living halfway across the country from his family yet brimming with nervous excitement at the thought of being able to start the path to his dreams.
He just found that anything that happens within those hours were a little special. He supposed that it's a given considering the hours they worked that they'd be awake during the times when most people aren't and are supposed to make the best of them, but he finds that where he used to loathe it, hate the way his body felt awfully weak at times like he was mere seconds away from keeling over, he's fully adapted to working late nights and staying up until late morning or what their schedule for the day required.
(Of course, it wasn't always good. Just as it brought him warm spring the same hours brought him harsh winters too; nights wherein his thoughts felt too loud inside his head, where the words just don't come easily or his voice doesn't feel right, where he and Seokjin fight over petty things he could no longer remember, where he feels like he's stuck in limbo: twenty-four and not having done anything that quite felt right for him. Nights where passion doesn't seem as tangible or real, where the what-ifs and what-could've-beens loom too large over him, lending him to wonder if what he'd done so far had been the right choice.
But the rest of the members were always there for him every time: sharing his pain just as he shared theirs. And whenever they squabble somehow he and Seokjin quickly say sorry in small ways: passing the other a water bottle before they even ask or wiping the sweat off the other's face, buying small treats as if to say I’m still here, I’m with you, I’m sorry too, or mock fighting to lighten the mood, until everything felt right again and they could later talk about it properly.)
But what he loved most about pre-dawn hours was that during the rare times they could all stay over and rest, it gives him Jin slipping next to his bed to lie next to him, their limbs curling together under the sheets like twin question marks, intangible and inseparable. He'd shift a little so he can tuck Jin's head against his arm, the elder’s warm breath hot and heavy against the skin of his chest as they were lulled to sleep by each other's soft breaths.
Or sometimes it's him slipping into Seokjin's bed like what he is doing now, humming a little as he nuzzles into Jin's neck and pillow, letting out a sigh of relief at the familiar scent. (Seokjin had always smelled to him like comfort and home, no matter the cologne or body wash he used for the day.)
He slips an arm around Seokjin's waist to pull the other flush against him, letting out a little 'sorry' when the elder groans due to being roused from sleep. He tugs at Seokjin's arms a few times, and Seokjin lets out an exasperated sigh before turning around so that they were face to face.
"What is it, JK?"
"Nothing," Jungkook shifts forward, forehead pressing lightly against Seokjin's. "Just missed you."
He lets out a little laugh when Seokjin rolls his eyes and flicks him gently in the ear. He catches Seokjin's hand just as the older moves to flick him again for laughing, bringing his fingers to his lips and leaving small pecks across his knuckles.
"Yah, you're being awfully clingy tonight." Seokjin says, trying to tug his hand back. Jungkook only closes his eyes and shifts his hand so he can interlace their fingers together.
He opens his eyes only once he hears soft snores coming from Seokjin. As always the sight of the latter's sleeping face leaves him breathless: long lashes fluttering with each soft breath, full lips parted just a little enough to show his teeth peeking, cheeks rosy from sleep. Their hands were still intertwined, and Jungkook stares at them, suddenly recalling the first time he'd heard Seokjin play the guitar.
He'd first heard Seokjin play the guitar during the same early hours; opening the door to the elder’s room to find him sitting by the edge of his bed, guitar tucked against his chest as he strung out a few chords. Jungkook had closed his eyes and listened silently as Seokjin played for him song after song after song, voice soft as he doled out ballads and acoustics and even a song he said he'd written before but scrapped ("You're the only one in the world who'll hear this, Kook-ah. You should be thanking me right now."), stopping only when the callouses in his fingers had rendered him unable to strum properly. Jungkook had thanked him (albeit cheekily) and pressed soft pecks all over his fingers, before slipping into the Seokjin's lap to kiss him properly, heart brimming with fondness.
Jungkook wonders at that now, at how he’d once thought that every new shared moment they had had together were the zenith of what they could have. Stolen moments in the other’s room and secret kisses on places where no one could see them, small touches and jokes pertaining to the other that the other members had used to brush off as nothing but the youngest idolizing and admiring the oldest.
That one interview where Jin had called him his favorite, the other where he’d spoken about his ideal person and described Seokjin. The gayo where the game had been for them to wear caps and Seokjin to almost kiss him, and he had been unable to stop the wide smile that had broken between his lips, barely remembering that he had to push Seokjin away. Outro: Propose and sitting next to Seokjin as he worked, grinning upon reading the lyrics and recognizing that it was for him, never minding the changes they had to make as if they were speaking about another as he knew they shared something secret, something tangible, something solely theirs. The blush on his face that he had been unable to hide when Seokjin had sang his verse for him in one of their The Red Bullet Tour Concerts, altering the lyrics just for him.
There had been too many moments, seen and unseen, known and unknown:
- Their first kiss, at 4AM: Jungkook babbling about god-knows-what and Seokjin kissing him, quick and sudden, barely there. Jungkook would’ve thought he’d hallucinated it if not for Seokjin’s red ears and the flush spreading from his neck.
- The first time they’d slept next to each other, Jungkook’s stomach a mess of butterflies and jitters, hands shaky as he’d wrapped them around Seokjin. He had been the first to kiss Seokjin then, soft and slow like molasses, hands eager and marveling over Seokjin’s small waist. They’d had to stop only due to Yoongi sleeping on the bed across from theirs.
- Their first date (if you could even call it that), which had been in a park they'd sneaked into one late night in Osaka, still heady with post-concert haze and eager to catch the sunrise. It had been their first concert in such a large place, the arena they'd had it in having a capacity of almost 30,000. The cheers had been deafening and surreal, and they'd convinced their managers to let them out so they can in turn convince themselves it wasn't just a fever dream. They'd worn caps and scarfs and masks to cover their faces and had bought all the foods that caught their eye from a convenience store before plopping down next to the river inside, making small talk and slowly going through what they've bought. Seokjin had kissed him just as the first hints of light peeked over the horizon, tingeing the sky in shades of pinks and purples. He had tasted like strawberries and mint.
- Their first time in a hotel in America during one of their tours; Jungkook pouting after while Seokjin cleaned their bodies as he’d wanted to give Seokjin so much more—hearts and flowers and slow music, like something straight right out of a romantic movie he’d once seen, not something hungry and almost ravenous, built up from tension and too many late nights. But Seokjin had been so good to him and for him; panting and pliant and soft. Their bodies had moved and fitted against each other’s perfectly, and even now the memory of it leaves Jungkook flushed and wanting. “It’s okay, Kook-ah, we have all the time in the world to do it how you wanted, no?”
- And what he wanted, he eventually got: Seokjin’s boisterous laughter after coming home to his apartment to find Jungkook waiting for him eagerly, his room a sea of red petals as an RnB song crooned in the background. He’d told Seokjin he loved him for the first time then; smiled soft and sweet when the elder told him the same.
- (The guffaws they’d shared after making it through the airport the following day: Seokjin cunningly wearing a massage shoes and giving one to him to excuse their limping.)
- And the memory he cherished most: entering their shared dorms for the first time one late night as a boy of merely fourteen, eyes wide as he met member after member. He’d shaken Namjoon’s, Yoongi’s, and Hoseok’s hands in wonder, recalling the Paldogangsan performance he’d watched and silently wondering if he’d ever be on par with them. Taehyung who had been the sweetest to him, helping him open up from his shell and making him laugh loud enough to make his stomach hurt. Jimin—bright, hard-working Jimin—whom he’d immediately flocked with, recognizing he had someone who shared a similar drive for passion. And Seokjin, who left him breathless at first sight, wondering at the fact that there were truly people who could look as he did.
Seokjin who was all warm laughters and kind smiles, voice soft as he’d helped him unpack and let him have the top bunk as he said that’s where he’d be most comfortable. Seokjin who had left the largest portions for him, who hadn’t said anything when he slipped out of the shower one night to find the elder, merely looking at him with kind understanding. As if to say, that’s alright, take your time. Seokjin whose words he’d immediately trusted, Seokjin for whom he’d heard bells toll and clang loud enough in his head it was a wonder no one else had heard it.
Seokjin who he knew he had been in love with since then, and would always be in love with for as long as dawn breaks.
Jungkook looks at the elder now, insides brimming with a love and fondness so full and close to overflowing. He runs a finger against Seokjin’s eyelids, nose, lips. Seokjin’s nose twitched with every touch, and Jungkook grins, thinking he loved that, too—all the quirks he’s learned and will continue to learn about Seokjin.
The elder opens his eyes with a hum, and they stare at each other silently for a few moments, before Jungkook breaks contact by leaning in for a kiss. I love you. Love you. Love you. He thinks he’ll never get tired of saying it; whether by words or small actions. He hopes the slow mold of their lips could tell Seokjin what he currently cannot.
Seokjin only smiles knowingly against his lips, slow and warm like light breaking past the horizon.