Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Seriously, dude. Just check the locker room again. You probably left it there after practice or something.” Jimin mumbles over a mouthful of Hot Cheetos, fingertips covered in bright red dust. He proceeds to lick it straight off before delving in for another handful, unbothered by the clear lack of sanitation. 

Jungkook scrunches his nose, giving his preoccupied friend a distasteful look. “Can you go wash your hands, maybe? And there’s no point, it’s been gone for a week now and I checked like, three times already. ‘S not there, man. It’s gone. Vanished. Poof. Se fue .”

“First of all, I have no idea what the fuck you just said, Kook.” Jimin pauses to rub his hands together in an attempt to get the dust off again. “Second of all, it couldn’t have just vanished . It must be somewhere on campus, right? You’ll find it, dude. Maybe someone found it and is looking for the owner as we speak, y’know?”

Jungkook groans, obnoxiously loud to the point where he can physically feel Jimin’s judgmental stare on him. He drops onto the short, meticulously trimmed grass on his back, arms spread out like a starfish. “Well, they’re obviously doing a lousy job at looking, then. And it’s not at the lost and found.”

His eyes squeeze shut once the sun comes into view, and he closes them completely with a sigh. The warmth is nice, and he basks in it for a moment. Spring had come faster than any of them had anticipated- it’s not often they experienced temperatures this high in mid-March.

“Okay, well, now you’re just being dramatic. Whoever it may be, they’re not a damn superhero. Besides, it’s just a sweater, you can probably replace it.”

And, truth be told, Jimin’s right. Jungkook knows he’s being ridiculous and dramatic, there are things far worse than losing an article of clothing, a simple, oversized baby-blue sweater that’s slowly becoming somewhat ratty due to near-constant wear, to be honest, but that’s the thing . He’s attached . It’s his favorite sweater, his comfort item, if you will, just the right amount of oversized and comfy, the exact shade of baby blue that complements his complexion. He’s always been one to cling to material items with sentimental value, be it a plushie saved from his childhood or a long-time favorite sweater. And he wants it back , damn it. If that deems him dramatic, so be it.

He groans and swats at the general direction of his friend’s voice with a lazy hand. “You just don’t get it, hyung. You don’t know what that sweater and I had. It can’t be replaced.”

His eyes peek open just in time to catch Jimin rolling his own. “Right, whatever you say. Get your ass up, you and I both have class to get to and I am not about to be late because of you again.”

Jungkook scoffs, taking full offense, and picks himself up, hands rubbing at his butt in order to get off any possible grass residue. “That was one time . And it was because you initiated a bet you knew you’d lose, Park.”

A squint is sent his way. “Don’t call me that, brat. And how was I supposed to know you could hold a handstand long enough to actually get us late for class, the fuck?” Jimin scrunches his nose and brushes his own butt off. “I’m surprised all your blood didn’t pool at the bottom of your head.”

The younger of the two snickers, pulling his backpack (still perfectly functioning and preserved from his high school days, thank you very much) up and over one shoulder, fingers wrapped around the strap, holding it in place securely. “It didn’t cause I always know what I’m doing.”

Jimin hums, sending him an unimpressed look as they begin to make their way across the football field. “Clearly. Especially when it comes to keeping your clothing in check.”

“That’s a low blow. That one physically hurt, hyung.” Jungkook’s hand grasps at the fabric over his chest dramatically. “See you at practice?”

“You know it. Have fun in class, drama queen. Good luck searching for your long lost love.”

“Real mature, hyung. Real mature.”

****

Sometimes Jungkook questions the things he does. He’s smart- academically, very much so. It’s just that sometimes his ideas tend to be… unconventional. For himself. Like that time in third grade when he decided it was a good idea to announce to everyone in class that yes, he was, in fact, the second cousin of The Actual Spiderman and could get everyone autographs by next week. Or that one time he agreed to go skinny dipping three summers ago in the middle of September, resulting in literal blue balls and him being  bed-ridden for the rest of the month. 

However, his worst decision yet has got to be choosing to study health science. Sure, he was well aware of what he was getting himself into. He wasn’t an idiot, he knew the road to becoming a physiotherapist would be a bumpy one, but nothing could prepare him for gruelingly long hours of lab work, and with a partner that pushed every single one of his buttons on a daily basis no less. Technically, he should be used to it by now, being in his second year of university, but he’s really, truly not.

“Seriously, Jae. It looks fine . We followed the steps down to a T, what is your problem?” Jungkook groans, gloved hand flying up to pinch at the bridge of his nose.

“My problem is that I don’t think it should look like that, Jeon. I mean, why is it all weird like that on the surface? And, please, do enlighten me as to why there are—”

His partner’s words get cut off by the sound of the bell going off, signaling the end of class, and Jungkook doesn’t even attempt to hide the relief he feels enter his body.

Jaehyun frowns when Jungkook ceremoniously pulls the gloves and protective glasses off. “What exactly do you think you’re doing?”

“Leaving.” Jungkook’s eyebrows raise in question. “I have practice. You, however, can either stay after class and finish whatever this is or wait until tomorrow so we can figure it out together. Your call, dude, but I’m outta here.”

He pulls out his phone as his partner continues to switch between expressions of confusion and irritation, opening his text conversation with Jimin.

To: Jimmy Neutron

jae bein an ass again. pls tell coach i might be like 2.3 minutes late

Jungkook winces as he hits send, fully aware there’s a good old scolding under way. Their coach doesn’t tolerate being late in any way, shape or form, and he scrambles to shove the rest of his things haphazardly into his bag as he makes his way out of the lab, ignoring Jaehyun’s irritating shouts of protest and fumbling with his phone when he feels it vibrate in his pocket. 

From: Jimmy Neutron

lol k 

He rolls his eyes, and not even a minute later the device goes off once more.

From: Jimmy Neutron

make sure to check the locker room for ur long lost sweater ;) may even get lucky enough to peep in some lockers other than ur own, not that its not a violation of privacy~

From: Jimmy Neutron

just remember to avoid hoseok’s locker. whatever he keeps in there must be cursed

He snorts at the last message before he shoves the phone back into the pocket of his pants, feet quickly making their way through swarms of people blocking his way in the halls. He passes by a few people he knows, returns a friendly nod here and there, even manages a wink or two, well aware he’s supposed to upkeep his so called jock reputation. It’s all a load of bullshit, really, a concept and stereotype long outdated and so, so unnecessary. Sometimes he still feels like he never left high school in the first place, though he has to admit he gives even less of a shit about the logistics of popularity now.

“What are you looking so serious for?” 

He’s bumped in the side by a bony elbow, and before he can even begin to muster up a reply, the same arm pulls him into a tight headlock. 

“Don’t ignore your elders, Kook.” Hoseok grins, and Jungkook would give so much just to sock him square in the jaw. And he would, if not for tens of onlooking eyes.

Instead, he escapes from the hold, snorting when his hyung pulls an offended face. “You expect me to reply while you’re keeping me hostage?”

“Yeah, duh? Now answer my question.” The tone of Hoseok’s voice implies he’s totally unimpressed, though the wicked grin on his face is an obvious giveaway of amusement, too.

“How about we get to practice before coach has our heads instead? Why are you running late, anyway?” 

The question is ridiculous all on its own because Hoseok is always late. Always. Senior privileges, he says. Jungkook enjoys seeing their coach get riled up because of this fact too much to try and stop the elder, though, so he doesn’t. Simple as that. He’s not about to pass up on free entertainment.

“Me? Late? Never. You wound me, Jungkookie.”

Jungkook snorts. “Right. Sorry, hyung, forget I even brought it up.”

“How’s the search of that sweater going, by the way? Any luck?”

Jungkook groans. He supposes he should’ve known it would be the talk of the team, what with how frantically he’s been searching for it all over. “It’s not going. Honestly, I might just have to give up.”

An arm is slung around his shoulders like a dead weight, and Jungkook thanks the Heavens for his gym membership. “Aw, don’t say that. Who knows, it might turn up at any moment. Maybe it’s right in front of your eyes and you just don’t know it.”

Yeah, right. It’s a nice thought, but Jungkook seriously doubts it. He’s searched high and low.

It’s right as he’s about to let out a sly remark in response that Jungkook sees it for a split second out of the corner of his eye, making him stop dead in his tracks. At first he wants to brush it off as a trick of the eye, a hopeful, desperate hallucination, but even he’s not that far gone. It’s undeniable- a flash of baby blue that rounds the corner to their left and disappears. He knows that shade of blue, goddamn it. 

Hoseok must be a psychic. He’s convinced.

He doesn’t get the chance to voice this conclusion because before he knows it, he’s breaking out in a jog, feet carrying him around that same corner on their own accord. Hoseok’s confused shouts of his name are left ignored, but he could not care less because right there in the middle of the hallway is his seemingly gone-without-a-trace sweater, walking next to a guy with annoyingly wide shoulders.

Or rather, a person wearing his sweater. A guy. In his sweater . 

Jungkook’s pretty sure there’s steam coming out of his ears and as he stomps after the boy, he knows he’s not about to show any mercy whatsoever.

“Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

His hand flies up to grab at the sleeve of the sweater, successfully holding a fistful of the soft material as soon as he’s close enough to reach it, and the guy wearing it jerks, stumbling on his feet. Jungkook comes to a stop, as does the culprit and whoever it is walking with him, and he’s aware he’s causing a scene, but fuck it. He has the right to, okay? 

The accusations begin to bubble in his throat, ready for a quickfire attack as the supposed sweater thief begins to turn, but nothing actually comes out once he comes face to face with the culprit’s unimpressed expression. The words get stuck in his throat, positively piling up and staying there, and he’s not even sure he’s breathing anymore, sweater be damned.

It’s just his luck that his sweater thief just so happens to be the most breathtakingly beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

An eyebrow quirks up, paired with an amused twitch of the corner of the lips, and Jungkook already knows he’s done for.

"Can I help you, sweetheart?"

If he thought the face was killer, then the voice is what really gets to him because oh God is it deeper than anything he would’ve expected. The amused use of the pet name makes the entire situation just that little bit worse and embarrassing (for him, not the culprit) and Jungkook kind of wishes the ground would swallow him whole.

“Um.” He squeaks, fucking squeaks , because of course that’s the first thing he can muster in front of a pretty boy.

Nice work. Outstanding . Fucking marvelous , if he may.

“Uh,” he tries again, no less pathetic, “you—your shoelaces.”

The boy quirks a brow, and Jungkook does not think of how pretty and thick his eyebrows are, partially hidden by honey-brown hair that ever so graciously falls over a deep set of dark eyes. Seriously, he doesn’t.

“My shoelaces?” 

Jungkook nods jerkily. “Yeah. They’re—they’re untied, y’know. It’s unsafe to be walking around like that.”

Thank God he’d managed to sneak a look at the boy’s feet.

He’s met with a pregnant pause, accompanied by an incredulous stare of sharp eyes that tears right through him like a spear, until the boy lets out a laugh, loud and gradually growing in intensity. Jungkook simply watches in disbelief as the boy nearly doubles over in laughter, hand flying up to wrap around his stomach.

When he finally comes to and manages to somewhat calm down, Jungkook’s already lost all of his dignity. This is it for him. This is where his social status dies completely. 

“You’re telling me you did all of that just to tell me my shoelaces are untied?”

Jungkook physically cringes. “I guess?”

A shake of the head is all he receives back before he realizes his fingers are still securely wrapped around his wrist and he jerks back, pulling them away as though he’d been burned.

The boy flinches at the action but doesn’t bother to acknowledge it. Instead, he sends Jungkook a simple smile. “Well, thanks. I’ll make sure they’re tied next time so you don’t have to go running after me in the middle of a busy hallway, okay?”

Jungkook nods, too ashamed to even bother speaking again, and watches as the boy shoots him one last dazzling, toothy smile over his shoulder and walks away.

“Dude, what was that ?”

The last thing he wants right now is to hear Hoseok making fun of him. He knows he will, though. He just wishes he had the time to mentally prepare for it. 

“Don’t. I’m going to die. I’m going to crawl into a hole and die.”

Hoseok snorts. “You won’t die . Honestly the worst thing is that he didn’t even tie his shoelaces. He just left.”

Jungkook doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. It’s a universal truth that sometimes he does questionable things. It’s a fact everyone around him is very much aware of.

This, however, takes the cake by a long shot.

He groans, hand flying up to hide his face, and he rubs over it as if trying to rid himself of embarrassment residue. 

Somehow, Hoseok’s still wrong, though.

The true worst thing is the fact that he didn’t even get his sweater back.

****

By the time they actually make it to practice, everyone’s long ago started without them. Coach doesn’t give them the usual lecture, which, all things considered, is way worse, because that means this time he’s actually pissed. They’re benched for the rest of practice game, despite the fact that Jungkook’s their center and arguably their prized-possession (well, second best if you give in to Yoongi’s self-proclaimed and admittedly well-deserved title as their shining shooting guard) and he’s positively bummed. 

Hoseok doesn’t seem to mind all that much, but even Jungkook can tell he’s a bit disappointed this time around, too. He does apologize, but Hoseok brushes it off with an easy smile. 

Halfway through the game Jimin finds his eyes across the court and mouths a confused ‘what the fuck’ , and Jungkook can only really shrug and grimace awkwardly. He doesn’t know either.

“What the hell happened? This was our final practice before the game, you know you couldn’t miss this.” Jimin is all up in his face as soon as practice is over and they’re back in the locker room, and the red-haired boy isn’t the only one wondering as they clearly have more than one set of curious eyes and ears following their every move.

“Jungkook chased a cute boy to tell him to tie his shoelaces, that’s what.” Hoseok answers for him, unable to stifle his laughter. Jungkook even receives a loud smack against his bare back but it doesn’t particularly make him feel any better.

“That’s not really… it.” He mumbles, crumpling his jersey to shove it back inside the locker. 

Jimin frowns and doesn’t leave his side, in fact, he gets Yoongi to join the interrogation. “Then what is it? You’re lucky coach values you as a player too much to keep you off the actual game.”

The younger of the bunch sighs and his head falls against the empty, closed locker next to his own. “I found my sweater.”

“What?” Jimin half shouts, unbothered by the added attention this sends their way. “You just happened to find it? Where?”

“Pause. No fuckin’ way. The sweater you lost was blue, wasn’t it?” Hoseok beats him to replying again, slamming the door to his locker shut to dramatically lean his side against it. “Don’t tell me—“

Jungkook nods, lifting his head back up with a groan. He thinks he’s groaned more today than in the rest of the accumulative years of his life. 

“Yeah. The guy was wearing my sweater.”

Jimin’s eyebrows shoot up. “So you’re saying you missed practice because you saw someone wearing your sweater and, instead of confronting them about it like any sane person would, you panicked and told them to tie their shoelaces ?”

An awkward silence follows before Yoongi caves and bursts into laughter, unable to keep it in any longer. Jimin elbows him in the side. “Sorry, sorry it’s just—of course something like that would happen to you. Holy shit, that’s so great. How’d he get it?”

Jungkook shrugs in defeat. “I don’t know. It has to be mine, though. There was a small hole in the sleeve I grabbed, the exact one mine has.”

He shoves the rest of his things in the locker before he slams it shut, turning to his friends with crossed arms.

Jimin sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Right, well, this is fuckin’ stupid. Did you at least get his name?”

“No, just told him to tie his stupid shoelaces.” Jungkook shakes his head in shame, mumbling under his breath with a pout that makes Yoongi laugh once more. He’s sulking and understandably so, and his friends are dumb.

Dumb friends, dumb practice, dumb sweater, dumb pretty boy with his pretty eyes and hair and—

“Okay, so you can either suck it up and let the sweater go or look for the guy.” Hoseok offers with a shrug, pushing his weight off the wall of lockers to approach him, hand traveling up to ruffle his slightly perspired brown locks. “Right now, though, focus on the game this Friday, yeah? We’ll find the guy. It can’t be that hard, can it? At least we know he has some classes in our building.”

And Hoseok’s right, they can all agree on that. There are more important things at hand, namely the upcoming game against a team from a university in Incheon, and Jungkook’s surprised they’ve even indulged him this long. The rest of the team offer him smiles or pats on the back as they scatter away, leaving them to finish up last.

“Don’t look so sour, Kook.” Yoongi offers as he zips his sports bag up. “Even if you don’t get it back, it’s just a sweater. Let’s make sure we win that game and lift your spirits, alright?”

Jungkook finds himself nodding in agreement, mood lifting ever so slightly. “Alright. Drinks on you after, though.”

“Hey, I never said that! Get over here, brat!”

He laughs boisterously as he grabs his bag and dashes out of the room, Yoongi’s feet stomping after him like a hurricane.

His mind is put somewhat at ease as he returns to the dorm (courtesy of the hyungs), though the beautiful boy in his sweater never leaves his mind.  To his own surprise, his thoughts don’t even stay on the task at hand, that being getting back the article of clothing. Instead, the boy occupies them for the remainder of the night.

Jungkook barely gets any sleep.

****

Friday comes like a whirlwind, and before he knows it, it’s the night of the game. He has not seen the boy or his sweater since “the incident” (as Jimin’s deemed it), the latter of which he could really use right about now as a means of comfort, and it makes him feel disappointed to a certain degree. Despite having played basketball ever since he could stand on his own two feet, he still gets pre-game jitters. Especially if the game involves the Incheon team, definitely not their sworn long-time enemies whatsoever.

“Kook?”

Jungkook flinches, surprised by the proximity of the voice, turning his face to the side to catch Yoongi staring at him intently.

The older frowns, hand moving to rest on Jungkook’s shoulder. “Everything okay? I called your name like, 5 times before you even reacted.”

Jungkook nods. ‘’Sorry, just zoned out for a second. Everything’s fine, really.”

His hyung squints at him, Jungkook squints back, and soon enough it’s a full-blown stare down.

Yoongi caves first, letting out a long, drawn-out sigh. “If you say so. Is it the pre-game anxiety?”

“Yeah.” Jungkook nods. Among other things . “It’s okay, though. Should be fine as soon as we’re out there, y’know?”

“I know.” Yoongi nods, standing up from the bench between two rows of lockers with a huff. He offers Jungkook a hand, one he gladly takes, and lifts him up, too. “Let’s get out there and show them the wonders of the home team, shall we?”

Jungkook smirks, and the hyped woops of his teammates around the room following Yoongi’s words only encourage him more. “Hell yeah. Let’s go.”

“Jeon makes his move, drives in and… he makes it! With two point six seconds left on the clock, Jeon Jungkook, number thirteen, makes the winning shot! The Bulletproof of Seoul National University win the game!”

The crowd roars around them, and Jungkook can barely hear it over the sound of his own heartbeat, sweat pouring down his temples. He’s lifted up in the air, supported by his cheering, screaming teammates, breath momentarily getting caught in his throat, and that’s when it sets in.

He scored the winning shot. They won. They fucking won . 

The laughs that leaves him is breathless and borders on disbelief, and hearing his own name being chanted is exhilarating—he feels like he’s literally on top of the world. A piece of confetti (not that he remembers any cannons going off) lands at the front of his bangs, which only makes him laugh harder, and he picks it out, pocketing it in his shorts. Sentimental value.

When he’s put down, the team goes in for a dogpile of a hug, and Jungkook’s so fucking happy. Jimin elbows him with a proud smirk, having sneaked his way into his right side, and Jungkook elbows him right back.

“We did it, Bulletproof! We goddamn did it!”

Jungkook doesn’t even register who says it over the still echoing loudness of the court, though he vaguely distinguishes Jaebum’s voice, and a new wave of cheers follows.

It’s when everything starts to settle, his teammates and students around them still basking in the euphoric moment, that he feels a tap on his shoulder.

Figuring it’s yet another person he has a class with coming to congratulate him, he whips around, and almost falls right on his ass once he faces the person. This one he certainly does not have class with.

“Hey there, shoelaces.”

Jungkook swears it’s the post-game adrenaline high making him see things. That’s the only reasonable and plausible explanation. 

Why in the hell else would the pretty sweater thief approach him?

He blinks, mouth falling slightly agape, and the boy chuckles, almost as though he’d expected no less from Jungkook.

“Uh.” He speaks, once again impressed by his lack of communication skills. “What’d you just call me?”

The pretty boy snorts with a smile, arms crossing over his chest. “Shoelaces. Appropriate, don’t you think? Or would you prefer I referred to you as Jeon? Or maybe even star athlete ?”

Jungkook makes a face, hand flying up to scratch at his nape. He’s still not sure he’s not seeing things, but the softness of the boy’s face and the silky fabric of the red blouse falling over his shoulders makes him think this might just be real. He’s angelic . 

There is absolutely no way his puny human brain could conjure up a sight like this on it’s own. Even with the help of adrenaline.

“Well—I suppose I deserve the shoelaces one, but star athlete might be a bit much.” Jungkook mumbles awkwardly, mentally patting himself on the back for even managing his much. “Uh, sorry about that, by the way. I don’t know why—”

The stranger (is he?) shakes his head, smile never leaving his face, and Jungkook decides to pass away right then and there. “It’s alright. Who knows, you might have prevented me from slipping and snapping my neck, so. I guess I owe you now.”

Well, then. Mark him down as intrigued. Jungkook’s eyebrow shoots up. “You do?”

“Uh-huh.” He hums, head tilting to the side. “I’m sure you’ll think of something, Jeon. Great game, by the way. You really do shine, just like they say you do.”

With that (and a wink, a goddamn wink , holy fuck) he turns around to leave, Jungkook staring after him, starstruck and gaping like a child in a candy store.

“Wait!” Jungkook shouts, making sure he’s heard over the buzz of the crowd, though he’s not entirely sure why he’s trying to stop the boy in the first place.

The boy in the red blouse stops, throwing him a questioning glance over his shoulder. Fuck, his shoulders —

“Yes?”

Jungkook swallows, mind going haywire, but eventually, he gets it together. “Can I get your name, at least?”

He seems to contemplate for a moment, doing nothing but watching Jungkook’s expectant face. He lets out a sigh, head tilting back to look at the ceiling. “I suppose I have no choice.”

He frowns. “It’s okay if you don’t want to—”

“Taehyung. My name’s Taehyung.” 

His mouth falls shut, even though it itches to try the name out. Taehyung.

“Bye now, Jeon. See you around.”

Then, he leaves for good, form retreating through the exit of the court, and Jungkook is left wondering just how he’d never seen him around before. The sweater does not even cross his mind.

****

“I’m just saying , coach would totally be fuckable if he was like, y’know, ten years younger. I mean, have you seen those pecs? Dude .”

The glass of an orange-red vodka mixture in Jungkook’s hand suddenly seems way more interesting than whatever Yoongi’s spewing, but he makes a face at it nonetheless. “Gross, hyung. He has like, two kids.”

“So?” Yoongi snorts, downing the rest of the contents of his own glass. “I’m no homewrecker but I can recognize a fine man.”

Jimin shrugs, shifting in his seat. “He does have a point. I’ve checked him out more than once, not gonna lie.”

Hoseok slams a hand down onto the table with a loud laugh, startling everyone around him. “We know! You’re not exactly subtle.”

A drunk Hoseok is certainly a sight to behold—he’s all flailing limbs and sparkling grins one minute and a lethargic zombie the next, he wonders who’s gonna be the poor soul in charge of getting him home this time. Certainly not him, not after last time. When he thinks about it, none of them hold their alcohol all that well. 

His friend’s drunken state reminds him that his own glass is now nearly empty and with one final gulp, he pushes himself off his seat, struggling to regain his balance. “I need a refill. Be right back.”

He leaves his friends to bicker, unbothered to participate in conversation discussing their coach (he’d rather not, thank you very much), and begins to weave through a sea of people and towards the bar. 

The club is packed . Sweaty bodies make it harder for him to get around than they should, and sure, while it may be simply because it’s a Friday, the familiar faces he keeps passing make him think people may have caught wind of the fact that the team would be here. He recognizes a few that had come up to him after the game, and he’s honestly not surprised someone from the team let their location slip. 

As soon as he finally catches sight of the bar, he lets out a sigh. He pushes past a few more people and collapses against the counter with an exhausted huff, earning a chuckle from the bartender. 

“Rough night?”

Jungkook grimaces, hoping he’s somehow manifested something that at least resembles a smile. “Great night, actually. Just not a fan of crowds.”

The guy nods, and Jungkook decides he likes the neon-green tips of his hair, but doesn’t voice it. “The same as before, then?”

His eyebrow raises in surprise. He didn’t expect the bartender to remember his order, especially not with how many people he must’ve made drinks for tonight. It makes a pleasant fire churn at the pit of his stomach. “Yeah, thanks.”

He receives a nod and a smile in return, and when the bartender doesn’t engage in further conversation, he reaches for his phone to pass the time instead.

There’s a snort that comes from somewhere on his right, and he ignores it until a voice follows. “A love potion vodka? Didn’t peg you as the fruity cocktail type, Jeon.”

Jungkook freezes. He knows that voice. Of course he’s here too, because that’s just Jungkook’s luck at it’s finest. 

“How do you know what I’m having?” Jungkook questions, turning his gaze to the boy. 

Taehyung’s perched atop a stool by the bar, elbows placed on the glass surface. He’s looking at Jungkook with a grin, the same one that always seems to grace his face. He has no idea how he failed to notice the striking boy sitting right next to him (especially now that another button of his red blouse has seemingly come undone, revealing a sliver of golden chest), and suddenly it feels like the club is empty, save for the two of them. His attention automatically gravitates towards the golden haired boy.

“I can see what he’s making. And ‘cause I’m drinking the same thing.” Taehyung raises his own glass, swirling the liquid around before he places it back down.

Jungkook blinks. “Well, then you must know it’s the best thing here. I know how to appreciate a good cocktail.”

Taehyung hums around his glass, taking another sip.

Jungkook’s eyes follow his movements, all the way down to the bob of his Adam’s apple. He gulps when he realizes he’s staring and tears his gaze away, taking his drink from the bartender with a quiet ‘thanks’. 

“I applaud you on the lack of toxic masculinity.”

Jungkook grimaces, and it makes Taehyung laugh, so he counts it as a win. “Don’t. I’m pretty sure my drunk teammate over there might cry and then confess his undying love for you if you tell him that.”

Taehyung laughs again, and it eases a smile out of Jungkook. He feels a sense of pride, happy he can make the boy laugh, and a warm feeling settles at the pit of his stomach. “Can’t be bothered to, anyway. I’m just fine with talking to you, instead.”

If Jungkook flushes, he blames it on the alcohol in his system and the stuffiness of the club, totally not the implication of the other’s words. “Right, uh.”

He pauses, teeth gnawing at his bottom lip. Taehyung looks at him curiously, almost as if he’s trying to figure Jungkook out, and he doesn’t think he minds all that much. Prying eyes have never been his forte, but Taehyung somehow manages to make himself at home without even having to try. 

“So, do you wanna dance?” Jungkook spits out, doesn’t think twice, doesn’t think at all, really, and he resists the urge to slap himself across the face.

Shit. 

Taehyung’s eyes grow comically wide, damn near pop right out of his head. “You—you’re actually asking me? To dance with you?”

Double shit. Fuck Jungkook’s life, honestly. He can’t even trust his own mouth to have his back.

Jungkook’s leather jacket-clad shoulders lift in a shrug (which he attempts to pass off as nonchalant as possible), eyes drifting to graze over the crowd. “You owe me, don’t you? Or have you already forgotten?”

“I haven’t. It’s just not all that easy to catch me off guard, but I think you just successfully managed to.” Taehyung snorts, but his eyes are soft, amused even. He downs the rest of his drink, hops off the stool and fixes his blouse. “Alright, then. Let’s dance. Free of charge, though, cause I’m feeling generous. Use that favor another time.”

Scratch that. Jungkook may have saved a nation in his past life. 

Taehyung extends a hand, a clear offer to Jungkook, but his brain still short circuits- he stares at it, blinking like an owl on steroids. Taehyung snorts and wiggles his fingers around.

“Are you gonna take it or—”

“Yes, I—” Jungkook nods. “Yes. I definitely am. Sorry.”

He refuses to think about it too much and takes the boy’s hand, warm and slightly clammy, and follows Taehyung as he leads them through the crowd. 

Taehyung stops once they find enough space for the two of them to stand semi-comfortably and flips around, facing Jungkook with a confident glint in his eye. His hands immediately snake around Jungkook’s neck and effectively pull him closer—just enough to make Jungkook buzz in anticipation. 

Emboldened, Jungkook allows his hands to rest on Taehyung’s hips. “Is this okay?”

Taehyung hums. “I’d say it’s too PG-13 and a bit high school prom-like, but it’ll do for now.”

Jungkook snorts. Taehyung lips twist into something exciting and he begins to move to the beat of the song, one Jungkook can’t put a name to but vaguely recognizes, something you’d probably hear on the Billboard top 100.

If he tried hard enough, he could most likely even recall some of the words, but with Taehyung’s body moving next to his, an intoxicating warmth seeping out of him and seemingly all over Jungkook, he can’t seem to focus on anything else.

It’s not like he’s unfamiliar with the feeling of having a warm body near his, of having someone to unashamedly share his warmth with, be it in bed or on the dancefloor of a shitty club—Jungkook’s had his fair share of experiences. 

Right now, though, everything blurs together until there is only Taehyung—like he’s experiencing everything all for the first time again, and they’re not even doing anything, really. Taehyung’s barely close enough to brush up against him as he dances. Even then, he’s sure he could easily lose himself in this. In Taehyung, to be exact. 

Something, some one knocks into him from behind and he stumbles, stumbles until he ends up in Taehyung’s space even more and his face heats up, skin already too hot from the bright lights engulfing them. Taehyung chuckles, tightens his hold on Jungkook and hoists them back up to a standing position. He moves in closer, breath dancing along the skin on the side of Jungkook’s face.

“You’re a good dancer.” Taehyung compliments, speaking loud enough to be heard over the thumping music. Jungkook’s stomach twists and turns in the most pleasant way.

“I literally just almost knocked you over.”

Taehyung snorts. “That wasn’t even your fault. There’s a drunk guy behind you. Wanna move?”

Jungkook shakes his head, a bit too frantic and a bit too enthusiastic. “No, it’s okay. I’m drunk too. Everyone’s drunk.”

And he is, he feels it in the way his vision wavers and his feet seem to move on their own accord, and if it weren’t for Taehyung, he’s not sure he’d be standing upright. 

Taehyung shakes his head. “You’re fine.”

“You’re a good dancer too, by the way.” Jungkook speaks, nods, tries to speak again. “You—are you a fine arts major?”

The smile that blooms on Taehyung’s face is lovely, so lovely, Jungkook wants to take a photo. Maybe two, for good measure. “You’re assuming that just from the way I dance?”

Jungkook nods. “Yeah. Is that bad?”

“It’s not bad.” Taehyung shakes his head. “But I’m not a fine arts major. You’re not even close, to be honest.”

Jungkook frowns. He was confident he’d gotten it right. “What is your major, then?”

Taehyung pulls back a bit, facing him head on, and playfully cocks his head to the side. “Where would be the fun in me just telling you?”

“Can I get a hint, at least?” Jungkook doesn’t pout. He does not pout.

Okay, maybe he pouts. Just this once. It’s the alcohol.

“You already have a hint.” Taehyung grins. “We have classes in the same building. Let’s see how long it takes you to figure it out.”

That, at least to his drunken state of mind, sounds like a challenge. Jungkook has never been one to back down from a good challenge. 

(It also sounds like an invitation to see each other again. Jungkook’s heart squeezes.)

“Okay.” He nods, locks his gaze with Taehyung’s, confident he’s already got this in the bag. “Okay, you got it. Challenge accepted.”

“Good. Now, shut up and keep dancing, Jeon. Let’s put our skills to good use, hm?” Taehyung outright smirks , teeth on full display, and pushes closer, effectively eliminating the remaining bit of distance between their bodies. Chest to chest, toe to toe, Jungkook’s breath catches in his throat, and besides the music drumming in his ears, he can only feel Taehyung, Taehyung, Taehyung .

His eyes fall shut, head lolling forward to rest against Taehyung’s shoulder, and he lets out a laugh. 

The word ‘euphoria’ rings in his mind, plays over and over like a mantra, and he thinks he’s never felt more comfortable with someone that’s barely past a stranger. 

****

The next morning is not kind to him. 

“Care to explain why you were canoodling with Kim fucking Taehyung after the game and at the club?” 

Jimin stumbles in his dorm, unannounced and looking like a riot (yet still characteristically attractive, the son of a bitch), and Jungkook regrets ever giving him the spare key.

“Can you shut up?” Jungkook groans, turning over in his bed, pillow flying up over his head to block out noise. “Some of us have headaches.”

The older stops at the foot of his single bed, hands perched on his hips. “It’s literally only you in here. You have a single dorm.”

Jungkook groans again. “I am some of us! How are you not on your deathbed after last night?”

Jimin snorts, kicks the foot that dangles off the edge of his bed. “Because I drank water in between my alcohol. Drinking 101, amateur.”

“I’m not an amateur.” Jungkook grumbles and pushes himself up to a sitting position, hand flying up to clutch at his head. “This blows.”

“I’m sure it does.” Jimin nods, reaching for something in his coat pocket. “Here. Painkillers. I knew I’d better come prepared.”

Jungkook winces but nods nonetheless, taking the pack of pills from his friend. “Thanks. I’m surprised I didn’t just end up crashing in your dorm.”

He grabs the bottle of water from his nightstand and takes a large swig, downing two painkillers in one go.

Jimin watches him in amusement. “I’m not even the one that got you back home, Kook.”

Jungkook almost chokes, hand flying up to stop water from spilling from his mouth. He coughs a bit as he swallows, eyes shooting up to look at Jimin. “What do you mean? I don’t remember much of last night so I just assumed we—”

“Kim Taehyung took you home.”

What. What .

“What?” Jungkook manages, voice sounding all kinds of strained.

“Yeah.” Jimin snorts. “You two came up to us like half an hour after you left for your, uh, refill and Taehyung announced he’d be getting you home safely. Honestly, we thought you two were leaving to bone.”

Jungkook almost chokes again. On air, this time.

“Oh my god.” Jungkook murmurs, pulling his knees up to his chest. “Oh my god .” 

His head drops to rest on his knees, forehead pressing against them almost painfully, and Jungkook racks his brain in an attempt to remember something. Anything . 

He remembers meeting Taehyung by the bar, asking the boy to dance, actually dancing with him, too. He remembers the feeling of Taehyung next to him, moving against him; he remembers the lines of his sides under his hands, the chuckles and breaths against his skin. 

His cheeks heat up, he knows they do, even if he can’t see it. In fact, his entire body feels like it’s flushing, partially out of embarrassment and partially due to the pleasant memories. He remembers Taehyung, he remembers Taehyung everywhere, the flashes of lights and thumping in his ears and then—nothing. 

“ Fuck .” He groans, body falling back down onto the bed. “You mean to tell me he took my drunk ass back here? And you didn’t think to, I don’t know, stop me and tell me it may not be the best idea? I don’t remember shit , Jimin.”

“Relax.” Jimin rolls his eyes. “The boning thing was a joke, we told Taehyung he better not try anything funny while you’re drunk. I know him, Jungkook. He’s not like that. I trusted both you and him enough to let you two leave unsupervised.”

Jungkook’s eyes almost pop out of their sockets. 

“You know Taehyung?” He damn near shouts, startling both himself and Jimin.

Jimin’s eyes narrow and he sighs, plopping down next to Jungkook on the shitty mattress.

“Everyone knows Taehyung, Kook. He’s the subject of like, everyone’s sexual and romantic fantasies. Guy’s popular.”

Jungkook scrunches his nose in distaste. “Even yours? And I only met him this week. Hoseok didn’t seem to know him either which is weird if you claim Taehyung is popular. Hoseok knows everyone and their moms.”

Jimin sighs, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “No, not mine, Kook. He’s a friend. He didn’t come up to me after the game because you were busy hogging him.”

There’s an awkward pause, neither of the two knowing where to go from here. Then- Jimin startles. “Actually, speaking of Hoseok—he did say something weird at the bar when you and Taehyung came up to us. I just wrote it off as drunk rambling, though.”

Fuck his life. (Jungkook should seriously have a penny for every time he thinks this. He could build a whole empire.)

He gulps. “Uh—well, you see—”

“Jungkook.” Jimin’s eyes narrow. “Spill.”

“Okay, fine.” He groans. At this point, he’s got nothing left to lose, anyway. His dignity is already gone. “Taehyung is the shoelace guy.”

Jungkook spares a glance at Jimin’s face and instantly wishes he hadn’t.

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was.”

“You have to be kidding .”

Jungkook flinches. “I am not . Will you quit it, please?”

Another pause follows, and then it’s like Jimin’s a dam that’s finally bursting- the laughter that leaves his mouth is uncontrollable, rolling in waves that make Jungkook question his sanity once again.

“Glad one of us is finding this funny.”

Jimin snorts, shaky hands flying up to rub at his damp eyes. “Sorry, sorry, it’s just—you’re telling me Taehyung stole your sweater? As in, rich, preppy boy Taehyung? And you chased after him just to tell him to tie his shoelaces?”

Jungkook grabs a pillow and slams it over his face, barely holding in a scream. “ Yes . Can we stop bringing the shoelace thing up now?”

Jimin yanks the pillow away from his face, shit-eating grin on full display. “Nope. Sorry, Kook. It’s going down in history.”

History his ass . History was meant to be rewritten, anyways. 

“Taehyung’s rich? And preppy?” Jungkook muses, eyes drifting over the cheap, dulled down glow-in-the-dark star stickers on his ceiling. Left there by the previous owner of the dorm, he never bothered to take them down. 

Jimin shrugs. “Well, yeah, he comes from a well-off family but he doesn’t flaunt it or anything. He’s a sweetheart, really, if a bit of a flirt. Didn’t get into university with his daddy’s money, he’s actually, like, a genius. And you didn’t figure he’s a bit preppy from the way he dresses?”

Jungkook pouts. “My ratty, oversized, old sweater doesn’t exactly scream ‘prep’, y’know.”

“Fair point. You really never noticed him before? Seems hard to miss someone like him.”

Jungkook shakes his head. He supposes he’s never been the most observant when it comes to things out of his immediate line of sight, taking information in best when it’s presented to him directly, though he does wonder how he’d missed someone like Taehyung.

It’s almost ironic, considering now he seems to run into Taehyung anywhere he goes, but he can’t exactly say he’s complaining. Taehyung may be a (very) recent addition to his life, may not even be a permanent one, but he finds he wouldn’t mind seeing the boy again. Especially after last night.

He still has to get his sweater back, too, after all. Even if for some reason the damn blue thing becomes the last thing on his mind as soon as Taehyung as little as smiles his way. 

Curse you, weak heart. 

“Okay, well. This is pretty hilarious. It’s hard to imagine why Taehyung would have your sweater in the first place, he definitely doesn’t need any more clothing than he already has.”

Jungkook shrugs. “Maybe he just really liked it.”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “I’ve seen the sweater, Kook. Don’t take this personally, but I don’t think Taehyung would go out of his way to steal that of all things. There must be a logical explanation. Ask him about it, since you’re so buddy-buddy now.”

Jungkook’s leg flies up to kick him in the ribs, but he misses. “Shut up. It’s not like that.”

“Oh? So it’s already more ?”

Jungkook holds back a scream, upper body flying up and hand pointing at the door. “Out. My head still hurts and your yapping is only making it worse.”

Jimin snickers, pushing himself off the bed. “Alright, alright, I’m leaving. Call me if you need anything else.”

“You’re literally one floor up.”

“Your point?”

Jungkook sighs. “Just get out. Thanks for the painkillers, man.”

Jimin nods, grin never leaving his face. “You are very welcome. And just because I’m a great friend, I won’t mention this conversation to Taehyung if I just so happen to run into him. Bye now!”

“Fuck off .”

Jungkook shouldn’t be surprised Jimin knows Taehyung. If anything, something tells him the two probably get along wonderfully. Which isn’t exactly a problem , per se, at least not one that Jungkook has anything to do with. 

However, the presence of a sinking feeling of jealousy makes itself known, and Jungkook is not surprised at this, either. He’s not entirely sure why he feels this way—perhaps he wishes he’d met Taehyung earlier. Wonders how far his and Jimin’s friendship reaches; if he could ever have something like that with Taehyung. 

His bed no longer feels warm like an inviting escape, legs tangling into the sheets uncomfortably, and he kicks his blanket away with a huff. 

Jungkook has a hangover at 10 in the morning and he’s come to three realizations.

One, his sweater was stolen by seemingly one of the most popular guys on campus. And probably one of the wealthiest , at that. 

Two, said guy took Jungkook’s drunk self home last night.

And three, Jungkook without question wants to see him again. Wants to know if the warmth he’d felt for Taehyung last night was a figment of his imagination, or if it would still be there.

Somehow, it feels like he already knows, anyway. 

****

Jungkook is not a morning person.

This fact has continuously proved itself over the years, and Jungkook’s long ago accepted defeat by his own natural clock. He’d gotten more detention slips for tardies than he could count when he’d been a high schooler, and while he has learnt to make it in time for class nowadays, that does not mean he is any way fully awake for them.

Once Monday rolls around, though, he is not only still half asleep on his way to early morning class, oh no, he is late . Majorly so.

His chest heaves excessively as his feet pound against the concrete, and he’s not sure why he’s even running at this point. It’s not like his professor would let him in after 10 minutes of missed class, but he still hopes . Racking up absences was definitely not part of the semester plan.

It’s not as though it’s his fault in the first place. How could he have not properly plugged his phone in to charge overnight?

Okay, so maybe it’s kind of his fault. Sue him. Technology – 1, Jungkook – 0. He’ll take his revenge one day.

He lets out a whine of relief when he rounds a corner and the auditorium comes into view, albeit door already shut. He stops in front of the entrance, chest steadily rising up and down as he regains proper breathing, and yanks the door handle. 

Locked. 

He groans, trying again in a desperate attempt to get it open, shoulders slumping when his attempts are futile. This is great. Fantastic. Absolutely something he’d wanted at the very start of the week.

“Door too heavy for mister star athlete?”

He startles, but not because of who’s speaking. Weirdly enough, he’s starting to get used to the low, smooth timbre.

He chuckles. “Nope. Just late. Prof locks the door after class starts.”

When he turns, he’s already met with a warm smile, a teasing hint to it. “Something keeping you up? You should make sure you get enough sleep.”

Taehyung’s holding a couple books to his chest, but behind them peeks a light brown vest pulled over a simple, white button-up. Sleeves rolled up to the elbows and all. It’s simple yet effective, an outfit that is guaranteed to make Jungkook weak in the knees. 

He shrugs. “My phone didn’t charge overnight. I’m honestly surprised I even woke up this early on my own.”

At that, Taehyung giggles, and Jungkook feels something stir in his chest.

“Well, since first period is a lost cause for you now, how about joining me for a study session?”

Jungkook’s eyebrow quirks up. “Study session? As in, with you?”

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “Yes, with me, dummy. I don’t have first period on Mondays so I usually go to the library and get some revision in. Might be more fun with another person, though.”

And- okay. Admittedly, Jungkook’s not one to spend every extra moment studying but if it’s with Taehyung—

“Okay, yeah. Only if you’re sure it’s okay for me to join.”

He agrees before he can even consider it. A cute boy asking him to be study buddies? Taehyung of all boys? What is there to even consider?

Taehyung’s smile is pleased, clearly satisfied with his decision, and he nods. “Of course I’m sure. You may be cute, but once I focus on my studies, it’s pretty hard to distract me.”

“That just sounds like another challenge to me.” He chooses to ignore the comment calling him cute. Ignorance is bliss, and Jungkook might burst if he acknowledges it further.

He snorts. “Everything’s a challenge to you, Jeon. Knock yourself out.”

Jungkook grins. “Will do. Lead the way, then?”

****

The library is quiet, save for the sounds of turning pages here and there, and Taehyung takes him straight to a secluded table near a window, a sliver of light dancing over the surface. It seems almost routine for the other boy with the way he strides towards the spot like it’s his own, and Jungkook supposes it may as well be if he’s a frequent visitor.

“Is here okay?” The boy asks, and Jungkook raises a brow. It’s not like he’s gonna be the one doing the studying, but he appreciates the courtesy nonetheless. 

“Up to you. I don’t mind.”

Taehyung nods and pulls out a chair, leaving his books on the table. Jungkook does the same, taking a seat directly across from Taehyung, backpack resting on his lap. The silence among them is far from uncomfortable or awkward and Jungkook wonders if it’s due to early-morning drowsiness or the simple knowledge of being around someone he’d been aching to see since their encounter at the club. He figures it’s the latter, though there’s a nagging at the back of his mind making him wonder if he should ask .

He watches as Taehyung pulls out a set of pens and pencils and some notes, surprised to see paper rather than the usual laptop or tablet he’d grown used to seeing.

“No digital notes?”

Taehyung lifts his head to peek up at him. “Is it surprising?”

Jungkook ponders for a moment. “Not really. Just unusual. It suits you, though.”

“What, writing things down on paper? Weird kinks you got there, Jeon.” Taehyung snorts. “Did you know that studies show you remember information better if you write it down by hand?”

Jungkook hums. “That makes sense. And it’s not a kink, it just suits your vibe, I guess?”

Taehyung stills, giving him a once-over. “My vibe?”

“Yeah, like—using fancy pens and highlighters and composition books and making everything look all neat and organized, y’know?” He shrugs, embarrassment seeping into his features as he looks away, suddenly finding the neighboring table all too interesting. “Sorry, it’s just—”

“I get it in a way, I suppose.” Taehyung chuckles, resuming to jot down whatever it is he was writing before, book splayed out next to him. “You’re basically implying that my aesthetic is stationary. Perhaps I look like a Muji store employee to you?”

Jungkook is rendered speechless for a moment, caught off guard by the casual atmosphere that twists and twines around them, settling and making itself known. The overly casual tone of Taehyung’s voice and the way he manages to turn conversation into that of playful teasing—Jungkook almost allows himself to believe they’re already friends . Almost.

“Not stationary, no, just like, nice, neat things? I don’t know.” Jungkook snickers, trying to keep it down as much as he could. “You, um. You look nice today, by the way. I like the vest.”

Taehyung lifts a curious eyebrow, eyes cascading down for a split second. “The vest?”

“Yeah, uh. This style of clothing suits you.” Jungkook mumbles, honest to God marveling at the fact he’s managed to say this much without physically combusting.

Taehyung beams, and the expression is accompanied by a flush so faint but lovely, it makes Jungkook want to reach out and touch . 

“Well, I’d hope so, considering it’s the majority of my closet. Thank you, Jeon. You don’t look too bad yourself.”

And, that—Jungkook actually finds amusing. “I’m wearing a black hoodie and sweatpants. I could not have put less effort into this if I tried.”

Taehyung shrugs. “Effortless can be very attractive.”

A shiver runs down Jungkook’s spine, the implications behind his words much too obvious to ignore. He opens his mouth to speak, to somehow react, but he doesn’t get to. Taehyung’s phone chimes from where it’s placed on the table, the vibration against the surface of the table clearly startling the boy.

Taehyung curses under his breath, sending Jungkook a sheepish smile in apology. He picks the device up, and Jungkook takes this opportunity to exhale a long, shuddering breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. 

“Do you mind if my hyungs join us for a while?” Taehyung’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts, slender fingers typing out a quick response to what seems to be a text.

Jungkook shakes his head. “That’s fine. Your hyungs? If one of them is Jimin, tell him I’ll kick his ass for skipping first period.”

Taehyung snorts. “Jimin as in Park Jimin? He’d probably never let us live this down, but no, they’re upperclassmen from my course.”

“What do you mean Jimin would never let us live this down?”

Jungkook is genuinely confused and it must be written all over his face because Taehyung sends him a look .  

“The club? Us dancing? Me taking you home? He witnessed all of it. Seeing us together would be like striking gold for him.” Taehyung shudders, nose scrunching up in distaste. 

The expression is undeniably adorable. Jungkook is, once again, reminded of just how endearing Taehyung’s entire existence is. 

“Besides, he’s not my hyung. We’re the same age.” Taehyung adds, flipping over to a fresh, blank page in his notebook. “I am, however, a hyung to you .”

Oh. Oh . This is true. Does that mean Jungkook should call him—

“Taehyung!” A voice calls out somewhere behind Jungkook, Taehyung’s eyes immediately shooting up to find the speaker. It’s warm and filled with familiarity, the smile that blooms on the elder’s face, and Jungkook wonders if Taehyung would ever look at him like that.

He supposes he’s blessed enough to have Taehyung look at him at all, though. He’ll take what he can get.

“Joonie-hyung, Jinnie-hyung! Good morning!” Taehyung beams, brighter than the goddamn Sun, holy crap , a warm feeling settling at the pit of Jungkook’s stomach. He has a feeling it’s there to stay, as long as Taehyung is.

“Hey, Tae.” Another voice speaks, and Jungkook watches as two intimidatingly tall, handsome guys, one with dimples that are borderline angelic and the other with a face literally worth millions, move to stand by the other’s right side. They’re dressed similarly to Taehyung—vests and blazers pulled over pristine, white button up shirts, and Jungkook feels even more underdressed than he initially had. 

What is it with everyone but him looking like they’re straight out of Men’s Vogue? 

Scratch that, what is it with everyone in relation to Taehyung ? 

“Jungkook, these are my hyungs, Namjoon and Seokjin. Hyungs, this is Jungkook, the guy that chased me to tell me to tie my shoelaces.”

Jungkook is sure he’s redder than a tomato. 

“Oh! I remember that!” One of the hyungs (Seokjin?) exclaims, Taehyung’s melodious giggles following suit. “I honestly just thought you were one of Tae’s admirers fishing for an opportunity to talk to him. It was pretty funny.”

Jungkook feels a part of his soul leave his body. Of-fucking-course this just had to be the person who’d been walking with Taehyung that day. He honestly should’ve recognized those shoulders from a mile away.

And, shit— is that what Taehyung thinks Jungkook was doing, too?

“I—I wasn’t, I was just—”

“Concerned about my safety, I know.” Taehyung smiles, waving Seokjin off with a hand. “Don’t worry, he’s just teasing. Right, hyung?”

Seokjin’s eyes narrow. “Right. It definitely had nothing to do with the fact that—”

“Anyway!” Another voice cuts in, a large hand traveling up to squeeze at Seokjin’s shoulder. The voice, which Jungkook now knows as Namjoon’s, is firm and comes almost as a warning, clearly aimed at Seokjin. “We just wanted to come by to say hello. We actually have an assignment to go work on, don’t we?”

The same hand squeezes once more, Seokjin’s face twisting before it turns into a smile. “Of course. We’ll be on our way, then.”

“It was nice meeting you, Jungkook. Hopefully we can meet again soon.” Namjoon speaks, voice relaxing considerably, and Jungkook actually wouldn’t mind to see them again, either. As long as the incident isn’t brought up again, that is.

“You too. Good luck on your assignment.” Jungkook replies with a nod, watching out of the corner of his eye as Taehyung waves the two off with a toothy, box-like grin.

“Sorry about that. They mean well, they’re just, y’know.” Taehyung chuckles, fingers scratching along his cheek. “They tease me a lot. That’s all, really. But they’re great, the best hyungs I could ask for. The way we met was unconventional but… it ended up working out, so.”

Jungkook can’t resist pouting. “It kinda sounded like they were teasing me, though, not you. Unconventional?”

“Oh, trust me, they were teasing me through you. Nevermind it.” Taehyung trails off in a clear attempt to change the topic, and Jungkook lets him. He’ll just have to deal with his curiosity later. “And yeah, unconventional. We all met because our families would drag us to company dinners and balls and such—we bonded over our mutual dislike for those things.”

Ah, there it is. Jungkook had a feeling they were all somehow tied together by the strings of their families, if the air around the three of them was any indication. Not snobby nor belittling in any way, just, well, expensive . It was clear they came from families of high social status—Jungkook could only pray they weren’t paying enough attention to tell he was wearing an un-ironed hoodie from yesterday’s laundry. Even so, they did not seem like the type to care.

“Do you have to attend those often?” Jungkook asks, hoping he’s not crossing any lines.

Taehyung hums. “Not really. Maybe twice a year? I get out of them more often than not, especially now that I live alone. I think my parents gave up on trying to marry me off to their colleagues’ daughters when I brought home a boyfriend senior year of high school, so me attending is more symbolic than anything nowadays.”

Now that is very valuable information. Taehyung likes (at least liked ) guys. He supposes he should’ve gathered that from the night at the club, and yet Jungkook does a little internal dance of victory, pushing away the thoughts that make fun of him for even allowing himself to assume he could ever have a chance. He’ll deal with those later.

“What about you, then?”

Jungkook blinks. “What about me?”

“Any embarrassing family stories you’d like to share? Deep, dark secrets that are begging to be revealed?” Taehyung smiles, head tilting to the side. The simple gesture is entirely too attractive than it should be.

He hums, eyes darting around the room as he racks his brain. “Well, one time I threatened my parents I’d legally change my name to Justin once I was of legal age if they didn’t let me go to my classmate’s pool party.”

Taehyung’s eyes widen, teeth biting down on his bottom lip in order to stifle laughter. “No way. Justin? What are you, American?”

Jungkook groans. “No, but I was 14 and desperate to show off my Shin-chan swimming trunks. It was important, okay? I couldn’t just not show up.”

“I’m sure it was.” Taehyung laughs, entirely too loud for a library, uncaring if they get any accusatory looks. “Weirdly enough, the name kinda suits you. Maybe you should’ve gone through with it, see how they react.”

“Oh no.” Jungkook shakes his head. “I would’ve probably been exiled from the entire family.”

“Alright, fair point. Your name is nicer, anyway.” Taehyung chuckles, ridding the table of his notes and books before sitting back in the chair comfortably. 

“Doesn’t add up with you insisting on calling me Jeon , then.” Jungkook challenges, a playful tone to his voice, and the dark eyebrow that Taehyung raises is rewarding enough.

“Did I not call you by your name when I was introducing you to my hyungs?” Taehyung retorts, shoots back seamlessly and with no hesitance; Jungkook thinks he likes Taehyung’s ability to effortlessly get the ball in his court a little too much.

“That didn’t count. It was an introduction.” Jungkook grins, arms folding across his chest. “Maybe you should introduce me to someone else, just so I can hear it again, hyung .”

Score .

Taehyung splutters a little, shifts in his seat and tears his eyes away. It’s cute, the way the elder struggles to sit still as the tips of his ears gradually grow a deeper shade of red, and Jungkook resists the urge to raise a fist in the air in victory. He assumes it’s not easy to fluster Kim Taehyung, and any small victory is celebration worthy.

Over the short period of time he’s known Taehyung, he’s taken note of a few things. One, Taehyung will take any and all opportunities to tease him—all in good heart, because of course he has to be physically attractive and a complete sweetheart with no filter. Two, he definitely, without a doubt knows the effect it has on Jungkook. And three, he enjoys being teased as much as he does being the one doing the teasing, even if he would never admit it out loud. The reaction Jungkook is currently witnessing is all the proof he needs.

(Number three is something he definitely plans on keeping in mind.)

“Um, right. Maybe if the opportunity arises.” Taehyung mumbles, still unable to quite meet his eyes. He begins to shove his things into his backpack haphazardly, and it might be the most disorganized Jungkook’s ever seen him. “I should start heading to class. Don’t wanna be late for second period.”

Jungkook hums and stands up, waiting for Taehyung as he packs up. “Where’s your next class? Want me to walk you?”

Taehyung looks surprised for a second, but quickly shakes his head. “No, that’s okay. It’s a bit of a walk. Thank you, though.”

Jungkook shrugs. “If you’re sure.”

“I am.” Taehyung confirms, offering Jungkook a small smile. “Besides, you’re still yet to figure out my major, right? Can’t have you figuring it out so soon, can we?”

Jungkook huffs, eyes rolling as he begins to lead them out of the mostly deserted library. “You’re unbelievable and, quite frankly, doing the most.”

“And you should never forget it.” Taehyung giggles, turning to him with a smile so wide, it pulls one out of Jungkook, too. “Thanks for keeping me company, Jeon. Find me soon, yeah?”

Jungkook nods. “I will. By the way, about that night at the club—”

Before he can finish, a swift palm cups one of his cheeks, effectively shutting him up. The skin on skin contact catches him off guard, soft and unexpected and so incredibly warm , he couldn’t utter a single word even if he wanted to.

“Nothing happened, I got you into bed and made sure you slept, that’s all. Don’t worry your pretty little head over it.” Taehyung offers, thumb ghosting over his cheekbone.

Jungkook nods once more, albeit jerkily this time. “I—okay. Okay, that’s—good? I wouldn’t have wanted to, y’know, not remember anything in case—”

“You’re okay. We can talk about it later, if you want. I really have to go now, though.” Taehyung smiles weakly, hand dropping off of Jungkook’s face. He wonders if Taehyung can read the disappointment on his face. “I wouldn’t have let anything happen, anyway. Not while either one of us was drunk.”

Jungkook inhales, fast and sharp, brain already looking for ways to interpret that last sentence. “Okay. Yeah. Okay. I—I will find you later. Maybe tomorrow, or on Wednesday or any other day, um.”

Taehyung lets out one final, breathy laugh as he takes a hesitant step back. “Okay. See you, then.”

“Yeah. See you.”

He stands in place, not daring to move even an inch as he watches Taehyung’s retreating back. He only breathes once the boy is completely out of sight, and he figures he must look odd standing in the middle of the hall, trying to regain his composure.

None of that matters, though; not when, this time around, he knows he’ll be seeing Taehyung again. It doesn’t matter if anyone sees him staring, sees him smiling to himself as he muses over the sheer thought alone. 

He’s simply got to tell him he’s already figured out his major.

****

“So.”

Jungkook quirks a brow, sparing Jimin a glance as he pulls his jersey over his head. “So?”

Wednesday practices are ones Jungkook never dared to be late for. In fact, he was always early enough to have casual chit-chats with other early-comer teammates, too aware of their coaches knowledge of their schedules. You see, he had a free period before practice on Wednesdays, and so did Jimin, which meant Jungkook interrogation privileges were free reign.

(Bastard.)

“Taehyung, huh?”

Jungkook swallows. “What about him?”

Jungkook hadn’t managed to see the boy in question after all, class and practice busying him to no end. This fact upset him more than he’d like to admit.

“Oh, nothing, really.” The point guard shrugs, presence of his shit-eating grin audible in his voice. “He told me about your little library date the other day.”

Of course he did. Jungkook really can’t trust anyone.

 “It was not a date.” Jungkook groans. “What makes you think I wanna date him in the first place? I literally sat there as he studied. Y’know, as acquaintances tend to do from time to time.”

Jimin snorts. Jungkook decides he never wants to tell Jimin anything. Ever. Doesn’t know why Taehyung would willingly subject himself to this.

“Uh-huh. Acquaintances. That’s a funny word for—”

 “ Shut up . I don’t want to hear it.” Jungkook grumbles, mushing his shirt into a ball and throwing it inside the locker. “Like he’d ever date me anyway. Have you seen him? I feel like crying every time I look at him. He doesn’t even feel real , hyung.”

“You’re disgusting.” Jimin makes a face. “Wanna bet?”

Jungkook looks at the elder, meets his shining eyes for an excruciatingly long moment before he sighs. “Bet on what?”

Jimin hums, finger tapping against his chin. “Okay, how about this. If we win the game Friday night, you have to ask him on a date. And you’re not allowed to chicken out.”

Jungkook’s eyebrows raise in interest. “And if we lose? Or if he rejects me?”

“We won’t.” Jimin smirks. “When have we ever lost against Hanyang? And believe me, Kook, he won’t reject you. Think about it—when have I ever lied to you, huh?”

“I feel like you’re too confident for your own good.” Jungkook squints, too skeptical to give in. “You can’t just assume. If we lose, you’re buying me lunch for the next two weeks. How’s that sound?”

Jimin throws a rolled up pair of socks at him and Jungkook barely ducks in time, laughing when it lands straight into a puddle by the showers. As it should.

“Do I look like a walking won bill to you?” Jimin complains. “But, alright. Only because I know we won’t lose. You’re on, Jeon.”

Jimin extends a hand, and Jungkook wonders if he’s aware of how ridiculous it is to bet against his own teammate. He supposes there’s no harm in indulging him from time to time, though, and extends his own hand until it locks with Jimin’s in a firm grip.

He might walk away from this with two weeks worth of free food. 

When he steps onto the court not even 30 minutes later, excitement bubbling in his veins as it does every time he gets to play, gets to fly , mind clouded by liberation, he decides he doesn’t even want the food.

Instead, something foreign bubbles in his chest, a fire that picks and prods at his skin; sends shivers down his spine in the most pleasant way. 

He’s never wanted to win a game this badly in his life. 

****

On Friday evening, Jungkook finds himself in a circle with his teammates, shoulders pressed together, more than ready to step onto the court. He can hear the faint roars and hollers of spectators, a familiar sound that never fails to get his blood pumping. 

“One minute!”

A voice exclaims to his right, Yoongi nudges him on his left. He grins and extends an arm to join the other’s waiting in the middle of the circle, stacked on top of one another, a tower of trust and teamwork.

“Let’s go, Bulletproof!”

The abundance of hands flies up in a flurry, voices loud and molding around each other and it’s exhilarating , the way Jungkook feels right before a game. Before this game. His anxiety’s doubled—he doesn’t remember the last time his hands shook this hard.

And yet, he knows where his focus lies. He knows as soon as he’s on the court, he’ll feel nothing but determination and thrill. He’s here to win, and he’ll make sure the other team knows it, too.

****

“Two minutes left on the clock, Hanyang’s Supreme are left four points behind. With Yang Yeosang as their small forward, they might just pull through.”

Jungkook grits his teeth, drowning out the commentators’ voices. It’s all noise at this point—he cannot see or hear anything other than the court. Halfway through the game he’d thought he’d spotted Taehyung’s honey-toned head somewhere at the top of the bleachers, but he’d chosen to divert his attention even from that.

He, simply put, could not afford to lose. If he’s lucky, he’ll do more than just look at the boy after the game.

Realistically, he knows they’ve got this. With less than two minutes on the clock and a four point advantage, there’s little Hanyang’s team can do to turn the game around. Especially so when put against Bulletproof. They’ve got this.

“Thirty seconds! Jung Hoseok, Bulletproof’s point guard, makes a pass at Jeon Jungkook!”

The remaining half a minute passes in a blur; all Jungkook can see is the hoop in front of him and the ball in his hands. It’s second nature, the way his body reacts to Hoseok’s pass, and he aims. 

“Ten seconds! Will number thirteen make the last shot?”

When Jungkook releases the ball, he knows there’s a smirk on his face. 

Number thirteen never misses the last shot.

****

“You came again.” Jungkook speaks, looking up at Taehyung from where he’s standing two rows of bleachers below.

Taehyung watches him, curious. Proud, even. “Well, you never found me like you said, so I sure did. Been coming to these games since the start of the season, too.”

“Oh?” Jungkook takes a step, a single row separating them now. “Why not join the team if you’re so passionate about the game?”

Taehyung snorts. His hair bounces prettily. “Yeah, no. It’s not exactly the game.”

It’s silent between them for a moment, though not necessarily around them, not when everyone’s still riding the high of the home team’s win. 

Jungkook’s aware his team is probably waiting for him back on the court, celebrating without their golden center, without Jungkook, but as soon as a loud ring had signaled the end of the game, Jungkook’s feet carried him here. 

“You came.” Jungkook says again, takes another step. Taehyung is within an arm’s reach.

“I did.” Taehyung reaffirms. 

“And we won.”

A chuckle. “Of course you did. They had nothing on you, honestly. Congrats, Jeon.”

Jungkook shakes his head. “Why did you come?”

Taehyung flinches, body visibly freezing. He clearly had not expected a question of such a blunt nature, and Jungkook thinks he can see the boy tense. “Um. I like basketball?”

“No, hyung.” Jungkook persists. “Why do you come to our games?”

“Because—because some of you guys are my friends. I’m here to show my support.” Taehyung tells him, despite the two of them knowing that is still not inherently true.

Jungkook blinks. The red of Taehyung’s face tells him all he needs to know, confirming his suspicions more effectively than any words ever could.

“I’m not your friend, hyung.”

Taehyung’s face twists into something unreadable, and for a split second Jungkook wonders if that was the wrong choice of words. If he should’ve been more indirect, more subtle. 

It’s when a smile crosses the elder’s face that Jungkook’s fears diminish. Taehyung knows, too. 

“Good. I never planned on being just your friend, anyway.”

Then, a pair of feather-light, softer than cotton lips are on his, and Jungkook decides right then and there that he’d never wanted a friend, either. His hands find purchase on Taehyung’s slender hips, squeezing once or twice as if to say thank you, thank you for understanding when words fail me , and he pulls him closer, closer until all he can feel is the other’s body heat burning against his skin.

It’s all strangely reminiscent of that night at the club, and it’s weird to think a mere week had passed. He feels arms loop around his neck, locking in place securely, and Taehyung exhales against his mouth. He breathes, shares the air between them, and chases after a pair of red, kiss-swollen lips. He places another kiss, then a couple more, drawing it out as long as he can, molds his mouth against Taehyung’s to the point where it’s hard to say where one of them ends and the other begins.

Pulling away is hard, heart-achingly so, but the look on Taehyung’s face when he does is worth it. He’d kiss him a million times over just to see the flushed, starry-eyed expression again.

“Hey.”

Taehyung trembles under his hands. “Hey.”

“Hyung.” Jungkook attempts, but not without leaning in to place one last kiss against Taehyung’s mouth. “Hyung. I wanna use that favour you owe me.” He swallows. Then— “Go out with me. On a date. Please.”

A laugh dances along the skin on his face. “Jungkook.”

He smiles. He can’t do anything else, couldn’t move if he tried.

“Jungkook.” Taehyung repeats, says it almost like a mantra. Jungkook thinks he could get used to it, the sound of his name. “Jungkook, you’re silly. I was gonna ask you, too.”

“Beat ya’ to it.” Jungkook grins, pulling the other in for a hug. His chin rests against the top of Taehyung’s shoulder, and it’s then that he realizes they’ve got an entire court’s worth of spectating eyes. He doesn’t find it in himself to care.

“Jungkook.” Taehyung speaks somewhere above him, voice drowned out by tufts of his hair. “Jungkook, I took your sweater on purpose.”

Jungkook hums. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Taehyung sighs. “I know it’s why you chased me in the hall. The shoelaces were a nice save, though, I’ll give you that.”

At this, the younger perks up, head lifting to look at the boy in his arms. “Why’d you play along, then?”

“Because I wore it to get you to notice me in the first place. I’d found it lying on the bleachers after a game and took it home with the intention to return it to you.”

Jungkook raises a brow. “And instead you wore it? To get my attention?”

Taehyung smiles, sheepish and altogether embarrassed. It’s a sight to behold. “I figured I might as well, since simply attending your games wasn’t doing the trick.”

Jungkook groans, burying his face back against Taehyung’s shoulder. “I can’t believe you. You could’ve saved us both the trouble and just talked to me.”

“Well, what’s the fun in that?”

Taehyung’s laugh is once again muffled by Jungkook’s hair, and a stray kiss is placed against the crown of his head.

“Now go, you’ve got a win to celebrate. After that, we have all the time in the world. I’ll wait for you.”

Taehyung pushes him away playfully, making sure to use as little force as he can, and Jungkook stumbles down the steps and towards his team with a smile that shines brighter than the court lights.

It’s Jimin that finds him first. “Told you. Congrats on securing the boy of your dreams.”

“Yeah, yeah. You did. Thanks, hyung.”

“You can thank me by buying my drinks later tonight.”

“Wh—that was never part of the bet! Hey, come back here—”

****

“Business.”

Taehyung shifts from where he’s lying against Jungkook’s chest two weeks after the game against Hanyang, tangled between his feet. “Huh?”

“Your major.” Jungkook continues, a yawn escaping his lips. “I figured it out that day at the library. Yoongi hyung is a business major, too. I recognized your textbook.”

Taehyung laughs. “Why tell me now?”

Jungkook shrugs, fingers brushing through the strands behind the elder’s ear. “Felt appropriate.”

Taehyung hums, burying his face deeper against the fabric of Jungkook’s shirt. “Of course it did. Go to sleep, Kook.”

He nods, more than happy to drift off to dreamland, surrounded by nothing but soft blankets, warmth and his favorite person.

Before he lets sleep overtake him, though, he spares one last glance at Taehyung’s sleeping form, bundled inside a worn, light blue fabric. His lips curl into a smile, and he finally allows his eyes to squeeze shut.

The sweater looks better on him anyway.