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Jungkook knows something is wrong the second Yoongi walks through the door.
There’s a certain energy Yoongi always seems to carry. He’s calm and gentle, moves like a stream of water stuck in laminar flow. Yoongi’s usually eager to come home and relax. To kiss Jungkook and drench him with love in the form of slow kisses and chaste touch.
But today, it’s all different.
Yoongi walks in like fire. His steps almost searing into the wood of the apartment floor. His breaths are far too quick and too hot, and the scowl branded onto his face is worrying. He reminds Jungkook of a Basquiat painting—all chaos and color, his emotions bleeding out through his skin.
It’s ironic, though, that despite Yoongi’s unusually loud presence, these are the days he doesn’t speak.
Can’t, actually.
Jungkook didn’t understand the first time it happened. He couldn’t figure out why his boyfriend just wasn’t responding to him. His confusion and Yoongi’s guilt accumulated into something raw and ugly—tears pouring out of both of them before Yoongi locked himself in the bedroom that night.
The next morning, fortunately, brought some clarity. After some apologies on both ends and a cup of warm coffee, Yoongi sat Jungkook down and explained. Explained that some days he feels so helpless, so frustrated, so fucking overwhelmed that his ability to speak just abandons him.
It’s not like Yoongi doesn’t want to talk in these situations. It’s more like he’s trapped inside a glass skeleton, pounding at the cage with balled fists. But one scream too loud, one hit too hard, and everything will rain down around him in jagged shards and pieces.
It broke Jungkook at that moment. To know that Yoongi was hurting so badly the night before, and he didn’t do anything to help. Hell, he made it worse. But after another instance or two, Jungkook learned to remind himself that this is temporary. That Yoongi knows himself and his needs the best, and all Jungkook could try to do is listen to the words unspoken.
So, despite the concern flooding his body, Jungkook tries not to worry. Yoongi will generally head to their room and lay down for a bit, or stay there and retire early for the night. They can always talk when morning comes.
However, Jungkook jumps right up off the couch when he sees Yoongi walk into the kitchen and ties an apron around his waist.
“Hyung,” Jungkook fusses, “It’s fine. I’ll make dinner tonight. Don’t wor—”
Yoongi cuts him off with a simple raised hand.
Let me do this, Jungkook understands.
And so he backs off. He lets Yoongi fiddle around and distract himself with chopping up fresh vegetables and sifting through the spice rack. There’s no humming today, nor a single direction for Jungkook to follow. Just the sound of Yoongi’s knife against the cutting board and the bubbling pot on the stove. It’s not too long after that there’s a meal hot and ready for the two of them to enjoy. Although, not together.
Jungkook’s mouth twists into a pout when he sees Yoongi head into their office instead of taking the seat across from him, but he doesn’t say anything to stop him. Even after dinner, Yoongi doesn’t join him right away. Jungkook hears his footsteps trail into the bedroom before the shower stutters on. He tries flipping through the TV channels but still finds himself straining to listen to the steamy rush of water through the walls.
He should be a bit happier—that at least Yoongi has eaten and is taking steps to feel better. But the lingering need to check up on his boyfriend lodges itself in his chest and swells with every passing minute.
It’s only when Yoongi returns and settles onto the couch beside him that he feels a semblance of relief. Jungkook rests back against the cushions, leaving his hand outstretched in the space between them. An invitation, ready for Yoongi to take when he’s ready.
It takes a while—almost twenty minutes into a show neither of them are watching—but at long last, Yoongi shifts closer. Jungkook holds in a breath, paralyzed, before he feels the tip of Yoongi’s index finger trace circles in his palm.
It’s soft. Featherlight.
And as much as Jungkook wishes he can just reach out and pull his boyfriend into his arms, he doesn’t. He lets Yoongi take his time caressing him, patterns and swirls igniting goosebumps along his skin. Until finally, Yoongi interlocks their fingers, bringing their joined hands into his lap.
Jungkook knows his boyfriend has always loved hand-holding. It feels safe. Secure. Something innocent and intimate all at once. Literally holding someone you care about, someone you love, right in the heart of your palm.
He closes his eyes, trying to soak in the feeling of Yoongi being close to him until it happens.
Yoongi presses down–gentle, yet firm–right on Jungkook’s heart tattoo.
I need you.
The signal was a complete joke at first. Yoongi asked what the tattoo meant, and Jungkook made up an answer on the spot. “It’s your personal love button. Just press it when you want some good loving.”
“Good loving?” Yoongi asks, biting back a laugh,
“Yeah, cuddles and kisses galore whenever you need it.”
Neither of them thought too much of it, but somehow, over time, it stuck.
So now, with Yoongi’s tender touch against the ink, Jungkook finally allows himself to look into his boyfriend’s eyes. All that pent up fire from earlier left Yoongi scorched—red-rimmed eyes and splotchy nose. But still, to Jungkook, he looked like an unblemished angel.
“Hyung,” Jungkook rasps before guiding Yoongi into his lap, both of them clinging to each other like they can’t bear to be apart any longer.
Yoongi buries his face into Jungkook’s neck before gripping into his sweatshirt and making one solid tug.
Closer.
“Come on,” Jungkook whispers, gathering Yoongi up and carrying him to their bedroom.
Both of them sink into the mattress together. Chest to chest—heartbeats synchronizing their songs. Jungkook worries for a moment if his weight is crushing Yoongi under him, but his boyfriend’s arms just snake around him even tighter.
Eventually, Jungkook pulls out of the embrace and shifts his weight back onto his heels, removing his shirt first before undressing Yoongi. He takes his time, kindly shedding layer by layer until Yoongi is baring both body and soul.
“Mine too?” Jungkook asks, hand skirting over the top of his waistband.
Yoongi nods.
Jungkook hovers over Yoongi when he’s done, hand cupping his cheek before bending down and placing a fleeting peck on Yoongi’s lips. It’s over before it’s even started; all Jungkook could feel was the cool sensation of Yoongi’s lip balm before he pulled away. But it’s okay. After all, that isn’t what tonight is about.
His lips graze along Yoongi’s jaw and down his neck, never once entirely pulling away. Yoongi tilts his head up, completely exposing the vulnerable skin.
More.
Jungkook hums, rolling Yoongi over so he’s laying on his stomach. He resumes from the scruff of his neck and works down Yoongi’s spine. He never stops moving, never stops touching. Like if he does, Yoongi will somehow fizzle out from under him.
When Jungkook reaches the base of his spine, he presses a silly kiss to one of Yoongi’s cheeks before flipping him onto his back. Jungkook cups the underside of his thighs—silky and soft to the touch. And the best part, the part that breaks and remakes him simultaneously with every breath, is that Yoongi smells like him. Used Jungkook’s soap in the shower, and now Yoongi smells like white amber and musk instead of his usual citrus and honey.
Jungkook’s smile brushes his inner thighs, mapping them out with his lips as Yoongi trembles. He moves onto the tummy and hears Yoongi sniffle but doesn’t pay it any mind. Yoongi would let him know if something was wrong—if he needed to stop. The tears being wrung out are just his final attempts at extinguishing any leftover embers from before.
By the time he reaches Yoongi’s solar plexus, he hears actual crying. Jungkook takes extra time here, nuzzling into Yoongi’s sternum and whispering soft affirmations before resuming his actions. He doesn’t leave any marks or wet trails. Just hopes his lips are soft as they worship the route they travel.
And soon enough, Jungkook is right back where he started. He places a kiss on Yoongi’s pink lips before pulling the comforter around them. Yoongi is still crying a bit, but Jungkook pays no mind to the tears slicking his skin as they shuffle closer.
When Yoongi’s breathing evens out, he grabs hold of Jungkook’s hand and plants a kiss of his own on the heart tattoo before bringing their intertwined fingers right between them. Right against his chest.
Jungkook presses one final kiss to the top of Yoongi’s head and grins when he replies, “I love you, too.”