Archive of Our Own

If anyone would ever ask Jungkook what he’s the best at, he probably wouldn’t even have to think twice before answering. 

He is great at fixing things. Patching up holes, mediating between his two best friends who just happened to have had a huge fight of which the fallout Jungkook always knew how to pacify. He’s great like that - at fixing things. Even if they weren’t broken to begin with. 

He and Hoseok were like that, too. Irreparably broken, and yet whole at the same time. Much like a soap bubble trembling amid the air, so fragile that one too strong of a blirt could eradicate it. They were drifting aloof towards directions unknown, but opposed to each other. Still, they wanted it to work, to protect the quivering shape of their own bubble for as long as they could, but then… then they couldn’t. Not anymore. 

There were no fights when the bubble popped, dispersing into a mayhem of descending drops. All Jungkook can remember now are the dim lights of their dormitory rooms, too small of a bed to contain them both, this being the exact reason why he loved it so much, because he could pretend he had to wrap his arms around Hoseok to not fall from the edge, instead of explaining awkwardly that he just really liked his smell, liked how Hoseok’s skin felt against his with only his oversized t-shirts standing in the way.

Then, there were some tearful goodbyes, then joyful hellos that were crowned with one more crying episode that they both tried to bury deep down inside the darkest corner of their memory. 

If there was one thing Jungkook and Hoseok were in agreement of, it was the no crying rule, or rather the idontlikeforyoutoseemesovulnerable rule. In the end, they both didn’t follow it. Jungkook thinks, if anything, they did their utmost best to break it over and over again until there were no memories of it lingering in the air. Or maybe they just didn’t have any tears left to cry. He wasn’t sure. 

Now, two years later, his life completely Hoseok-free, Jungkook can’t recollect what was the reason he thought they were broken in the first place. Working his boring office job, sometimes all his mind revolves around are all the misshapen ways of how he convinced himself that fixing them would be good for them. That fixing them would fix them. 

But most of the time, he simply feels empty. A little hollow, too. 

If he was a poet, which he certainly isn’t, he would spend hours trying to describe the hole inside his chest that not loving Hoseok (a.k.a., pretending not to love Hoseok) drilled amid his flesh, but Jungkook’s not like that. He's always struggled to find the right words, and even the pain of losing the one person he can’t recall to ever have stopped loving didn’t grant him the ability to suddenly wax poetic about how much he hates it. Hates just being without Hoseok. 

As if Hoseok had been all that great. 

Whenever this thought enters his head, he just laughs dryly, because - yes, Hoseok was that great. He was amazing, talented, astounding, loving and sunny, like Jungkook’s personal ray of sunshine, a gem he found amid the dark-

Maybe Jungkook is a little bit of a poet, after all. 

He smiles at the thought, nothing but the cup of warm coffee to distract him. He wraps his hands around it to soak up some of the heat, the pinching cold of the winter morning still grazing his skin. Luckily, the coffee shop he and Jimin decided to hang out in isn’t full yet, so Jungkook didn’t have to wait too long for the waitress to emerge from behind the counter and bring him his vanilla flavoured latte. 

It doesn’t take Jimin long to appear in the coffee shop, too. For a moment he comes to a halt in the middle of the room, his legs hidden behind a row of tables and chairs as he squints in the hope that he’ll locate Jungkook this way. 

To be quite honest, Jungkook thinks Jimin just likes doing things in a manner that could be considered exaggerated if he wasn’t so damn adorable in the meantime. 

Once Jimin’s eyes finally fall upon Jungkook, his entire face lights up like  Christmas lights, like the flip of a switch, turning the overall appearance of the mediocre tree into a beautiful ornament.  

“Here you are!” Jimin exclaims before dropping onto the chair in front of Jungkook. His knuckles are reddened when he puts his hands on the table to embrace Jungkook’s fingers, now toasty thanks to the heat of his coffee. “Give me some of that warmth of yours. I’m freezing.”

Jungkook chuckles in response. “Should’ve thought about that before you put on a leather jacket in the middle of winter.”

“Fashion demands sacrifices.”

“Are you sure it’s not the fact Taehyung thinks you look hot in leather?”

Jimin laughs the way he always does - his eyes crinkle, voice breaks as he giggles, and his body naturally follows suit, trembling and wiggling as Jimin tilts his head upwards. 

“I—you know what? You’re totally right.”

“Called it.”

Jungkook smiles sheepishly, enjoying the warmth of Jimin’s hands. Ever since Hoseok, he’s been missing things like that. Things that remind you that no matter what, you’re still alive. Loved. 

God, does he miss being loved. 

In the meantime, Jimin wipes away nonexistent tears from his cheeks and is now staring at Jungkook expectedly, as if Jungkook knew exactly what just crossed his mind. When Jimin finally opens his mouth and the words trip from his tongue, Jungkook finds himself getting surprised that maybe he did.

“Vanilla latte again?” Jungkook doesn’t like how Jimin’s voice sounds as the words reverberate through the space between them. Compassionate. Bashful. As if he knew—but he can’t, right? 

How would he know that the only reason Jungkook developed an obsession with anything tasting remotely like vanilla was that it reminded him of Hoseok? Drinking this stupid latte, he, for once, was able to dive into the endless ocean of his own misery, as his thoughts took him back to the evenings when he lay curled up to Hoseok’s side, his nose buried deep into the crook of Hoseok’s neck, the smell of vanilla wafting around them like an umbrella that shielded Jungkook from everything that wasn’t Hoseok. 

Even his kisses tasted like vanilla for fuck’s sake. 

Jungkook feels like crying. 

“I just like it.”

Jimin doesn’t look convinced as he furrows his brows, gnawing at his bottom lip, and there’s a dead weight dropping to the pit of Jungkook’s stomach at seeing him this worried. 

“How was your day, hyung?” Jungkook decides to deflect. 

That’s what became his specialty after too many miserable attempts at fooling people: pretending to be fine. Now, at least he knows how to convince them. It doesn’t still the pain, but it keeps the facade. 

“It was good so far, but it’s only eleven, so maybe you should ask me again later,” Jimin chirps. 

In the meantime, the same waitress who brought Jungkook’s vanilla latte places Jimin’s order on the table. The drink has an incredulously thick layer of whipped cream swimming atop, and the brown of the coffee has been brightened by milk. 

Jungkook laughs internally, wondering if Jimin isn’t drinking milk with a tiny bit of caffeine instead of an actual latte. 

“I don’t think I will.”

“Brat,” Jimin says with a roll of his eyes. His pointing finger is tapping the brim of the glass to the rhythm of the song emerging from the speakers, but it’s too quiet for Jungkook to recognize anything more than the beat. “I was thinking—”

“Your first mistake.”

“I was thinking,” Jimin repeats with meaning, “and I have a proposition.” 

Frankly, Jungkook isn’t interested in any propositions if they don’t involve Hoseok. Of course, he doesn’t say it out loud, because he learned not to mention Hoseok in front of Jimin. Not after he left him no choice but to take care of the broken pieces of himself after him and Hoseok ravaged whatever was left of him, tearing every seam that kept him together. 

“I don’t like where this is going,” Jungkook says instead.

Jimin dismisses his words with one swing of his hand as if they were flying around like bees that he wanted to chase away. “You know Namjoon, right?” 

“Mhm. We met once. Talked about… bonsais I think?”

“The one time you met, you talked with Namjoon about bonsais?” Jimin deadpans. 

“He even showed me pictures. They were cute.” 

Jimin blinks, studies Jungkook’s expression in an attempt to discern any trace of a joke, but when he doesn’t find one, he just shrugs nonchalantly. It’s not anything out of ordinary. Not when you know Jungkook and Namjoon. 

“Do you like him?” Jungkook doesn’t like the mischievous glint of Jimin’s eyes once the question leaves his lips. 

He swallows. 

“He was nice.” 

“But that’s not what I mean and you know it.” Jimin leans forward, his elbows now settled on the table and fingers curled around his coffee. He looks so hopeful with his eyes wide open and a sunny smile plastered onto his face. The guilt drenches Jungkook’s heart in heat, lighting his chest aflame. “Do you like him as in would you date him ?”

No, Jungkook wants to scream out, but he can’t. It’s not fair, because he’s more than certain Jimin knows it. How many times did he fall asleep in Jimin’s arms with tears staining his cheeks and Hoseok’s name lingering on the tip of his tongue for Jimin to know without having to ask that no, Jungkook doesn’t want to date anyone who isn’t his boyfriend. Wasn’t his boyfriend. 

His fingers clench around the glass without him noticing. The frustration penetrates every fibre of his body, untangling each string from the fabric that makes Jungkook Jungkook. 

It’s Jimin who sees it first. 

“You’re still not over him, are you?” His voice, usually chirpy and teasing, sounds sad and quiet. Jungkook doesn’t want to see pity painted all over his face, so he decides not to look up, eyes leveled on his knuckles instead. Hoseok always liked his hands. He used to plant butterfly kisses on his fingers.

“It’s been two years, Jungkook. Maybe it’s time to try moving on.” Without lifting his gaze, Jungkook’s lips part, ready to let words out, but then Jimin sighs and shakes his head disappointingly. “Don’t lie to me. I know you didn’t try at all.”

This shuts Jungkook up, because he knows Jimin’s right. His vanilla latte still encapsulated by his fingers seems to prove him this much.

“Go out with Namjoon. See what happens.” Jimin’s hand finds Jungkook’s, and all of the sudden it’s not only the warmth of the drink blanketing his skin, but Jimin’s too. “You said yourself: his bonsais are cute. That’s as good of a start as any other.”

Jungkook bites at the inside of his cheek, afraid that the pressure behind his eyes would eventually squeeze the tears out of them. Once he tastes blood on his tongue, the tension subsides. 

“I guess… I could give it a try.”

Jimin squeezes Jungkook's fingers while his lips bend slightly into something Jungkook assumes is supposed to be an encouraging smile. All it actually does is pour more heat into the flaring blaze wrecking havoc within Jungkook's ribcage, but Jimin doesn’t have to know that. 

After all, nobody needs to know that Jungkook never stopped believing Hoseok was it for him. His one big love. His person.  

When Jimin changes the subject, Jungkook looks down at their hands, wondering how it would feel to grow bonsai instead of ordering the same drink over and over again in the hopes that someday it will finally feel like enough. 

So far, it never has. 

___

A few days later, Jungkook gets a text from Jimin with a time and a location, no explanation, only a devil emoji following the text. 

It seems like his date with Namjoon is happening tonight, in the pizza place Jimin and he never got to go to even though they had been mentioning it to one another for the longest time. 

The date's still a few hours away, so with an intention to distract himself, Jungkook throws on his favourite hoodie and scuffs towards the sofa before he falls onto the cushions with a pleased sigh. Once he finally finds the controller, he launches the TV and allows his thoughts to die down as the game starts. 

He plays for hours, winning ninety-percent of the time and groaning with displeasure during the remaining ten. He forgets Namjoon, his bonsai, and vanilla lattes, but even so, its taste never leaves his tongue. Lingers there for as long as it can before Jungkook forces some food into his system. 

Before he realizes, it’s time to go. He tried to put some effort into his outfit, but he’s not sure to what extent he actually succeeded. On his way to the door, he promptly studies his reflection in the mirror, appreciating that this one time his hair actually cooperates with him, as it falls in a wave on his forehead. 

Hoseok always liked his bangs. Said they make him look cute.

The entire way to the restaurant gets blurry, as the subway stations mingle together, mottled by lights and faces Jungkook forgets a second after he sees them. Seoul, so full of life, is obstructed by a thick curtain of colors pelting Jungkook’s vision like drops of rain that cloak a window. 

Seeing the neon sign above the restaurant finally dissipates the fog clawing at his mind. He takes one deep breath before he enters the place. 

It’s warm. Welcoming. There are vivid conversations coming from everywhere, tables and walls decorated with colorful ornaments, and candles burning brightly amid the artificial light of the lamps. Jungkooks likes it here. 

On his way here, he worried that finding Namjoon would turn out to be a challenge, but now he sees there was no reason for that. All it takes to locate him is for Jungkook to turn right, his eyes effortlessly falling on the only table occupied by one person. While he walks in his direction, Namjoon notices him, which in result tugs at the corners of his lips, dimples digging into his cheeks. Jungkook can’t help but smile. 

“You’re finally here!” Namjoon stands up from his chair, stretching out his hand in greeting. Jungkook’s eyes light up when he shakes it with a little bow. 

“Am I too late?” 

“Not at all. I tend to be overly punctual, so it’s not your fault the waitress has been ogling me for the last twenty minutes.”

Jungkook bursts into laughter. 

When they finally receive the menus, Jungkook’s eyes skim through the dishes. He freezes momentarily once his eyes stop at number five of the list with warm beverages. Vanilla latte. He gulps. 

“Everything okay?” Namjoon squints, a worried crevice forming on his forehead. 

Jungkook nods in response, because he doesn’t know what answer wouldn’t turn into a lie once out in the open. 

Only when the waitress comes back with a polite smile and a jagged notebook in her hand does Jungkook force his lips to part, readying himself for the flames to spike.

“What would you like, sweetheart?”

That’s moving on, right? Trying. Jungkook should try. 

“One apple juice please.”

“The same for me,” Namjoon says with his dimpled smile. He winks at Jungkook when the waitress turns on her heels and waltzes around the tables, so happy. So carefree. 

Jungkook’s burning but, for the first time, it feels freeing. The same kind of flame like the one cindering the feathers of a phoenix before it can be reborn again. 

Maybe moving on is all about burning the right kind of flame until all there’s left are feathers and apple juice. 

___

Contrary to Jungkook’s thoughts, the night is peaceful. He’s walking down the street, his legs aching after nearly two hours of a stroll, because no matter what direction he sets, it never feels right. Not when his heart hammers against his ribcage and the dimples of one certain Kim Namjoon float in his head like a bunch of butterflies—loud and big, their wings brushing against his skull with a dashing sound to it. 

Jungkook just wants to laugh, because—fuck, how could he think it would be that easy to forget Hoseok? To move on? He endured twenty minutes without Hoseok. Twenty. Once he couldn’t bear it anymore, it all came back even more forcefully than before, like a tide too strong to fight against. The kind that pulls you downwards, towards the bottom that will eventually squeeze the air out of your lungs, tear your limbs apart and leave your dead corpse drift somewhere in between, in a limbo. 

He’s so damn tired of the vertigo washing over him whenever he dares to take a step towards the surface because, he finally realizes, he enjoys the pain of missing Hoseok. Revels in each memory that cuts him to the bone. How could he not when that’s the last thing he has left? The pain of being unloved by the one person who ever loved you right. It sounds like a fucking joke. 

His legs decide on their own to take him to the one bar he promised himself to avoid, because he and Hoseok used to visit it quite frequently when love was still a concept that instilled butterflies inside Jungkook’s stomach instead of killing them with nothing but their dead weight lingering in its pit. 

He blurs out the people, doesn’t even hear the music after he enters. All he cares about is the counter and the bartender who must have realized Jungkook isn’t one of the talkative customers, because he just nods at him wordlessly and sets a glass of soju in front of him after Jungkook picks a seat. 

Jungkook downs the content of the glass in one go and winces at the sweet flavour. It’s too close to the vanilla he grew dependent on, but he doesn’t care enough to do anything about it. It’ll have to do. 

With one gesture, he motions for the bartender to refill his glass. What he receives instead is a full bottle of soju the bartender leaves right from his glass before he turns around and leaves to tend to other customers. 

Jungkook can work with that. 

When the alcohol traces down his throat, the taming dam that kept his memories in check breaks, and there is no way of stopping what’s finally free, painfully so. Jungkook wants to be free, too.

“You smell so nice,” Jungkook sighs against Hoseok’s neck as he comes closer from behind and wraps his hands around Hoseok’s waist. 

“I do?” Hoseok laughs, but there’s something there, hanging onto the last vowels. Darker. Hotter.

Before Hoseok can do anything about it, Jungkook grabs his arms and turns him around, so that now he can actually make out the light red of Hoseok’s blushed cheeks. Jungkook smiles, inches closer until they breathe the same air, until Hoseok’s gravity pulls Jungkook in like the largest black hole would, except that Hoseok is anything but. 

They kiss and it tastes like—

Vanilla. Why does this fucking soju taste like vanilla. Jungkook thumps his fist against the counter, his class clinking, all attention suddenly on him. 

Hoseok’s hands roam all over Jungkook’s body, mapping each slope, every scar, as if he wanted to memorize them all in case someday he won’t get to touch it, to worship it with his palms like Jungkook deserves to. 

Jungkook loves it. Loves the little whines escaping Hoseok’s lips as Jungkook bites here and there, wishing nothing more than for it to leave a mark. Loves his waist encircled by Hoseok’s sure hands, fingers that can do nothing but love him and him only. 

If he could choose a way to go, he’d like to suffocate just like that, his last breath sucked in by Hoseok’s lungs, living in him for the amount of seconds—if that was an option, Jungkook would be already gone.

Jungkook notices the wet stains on the counter before he feels the tears flowing down his cheeks. He promptly wipes them away, but all it does is to cause even more to brim over. He hates it. He hates everything, everyone, himself. 

He hates everything but Hoseok, and something about this makes him cry even harder. 

He places a couple of bills on the counter before he leaves, hoping for no one to notice his reddened eyes and puffy cheeks. If he had stayed for a little bit longer or maybe if he hadn’t been this out of it, he would have heard Hoseok’s quiet,  “Jungkookie,” after he entered the bar. 

But Jungkook didn’t hear it. His breaking heart, crumbling piece by piece over and over again, was too blaring. Too loud. 

Or maybe Hoseok’s shame was too quiet.

What a noise the two of them made. 

___

Ironically, even though Jungkook didn’t hear Hoseok, Hoseok's voice still resonates inside his head, like an echo of the past that he so wistfully wishes to become the present. It never leaves. 

When Jungkook’s rushing to work on autopilot, it’s Hoseok’s giggles accompanying him on each turn of the subway. Ordering takeout with Jimin, it’s Hoseok’s pensive murmurs resounding within as Jungkook gets reminded of the way he was beaming whenever he convinced Jungkook to order whatever he wanted, although in the end, he still gave up, because Hoseok could never really refuse Jungkook anything anyway. 

There was a time when Jungkook believed Hoseok would bring him the stars one day. Now, without that promise, the nightscape is simply black to Jungkook, no white dots, no planes lining the sky. Nothing at all. Hoseok must have taken all of that with him before he left. Packed the stars into the suitcase he dragged behind himself as he walked out of their apartment. 

Jungkook hates that he can’t hate him. Even drowning in darkness, he can’t hate Hoseok. 

And so, the days pass, but Jungkook’s reverie doesn’t. The yearning never stops. The wanting. It’s not even Hoseok he craves, it’s the bar. Because there’s always a chance that maybe, maybe he’ll meet him there, and then—

Frankly, he’s not sure what he would or wouldn’t do. He just wants to see him. Know that, despite everything, Hoseok hasn’t changed all that much, because then it would mean that the Jungkook from the past, the Jungkook who was the happiest he’s ever been, irrevocably disappeared. And that’s a thought Jungkook fears the most. That the him right now is all he is, all he ever was. 

The turmoil of these thoughts must have shown on his face, because around a week after his date with Namjoon, Jimin sits down next to him on the sofa with a tense look on his face. Jungkook abandons his controller on the side and fixates on his friend before the stabbing pain caused by too many hours of staring at the TV screen sends flares up his skull. 

“What’s up?” Jungkook asks, rubbing his eyes to chase away the ache.

“We should go out tonight,” Jimin answers, but he doesn’t sound like expected. Usually, he’s very excited whenever a perspective of spending some time outside of their apartment shows itself, but now his eyes look dim compared to the little sparks glistening with enthusiasm that Jungkook had gotten so used to. 

“I don’t really feel like it.”

“Probably, but I’m sure you’ll consider the place I’m taking you to an exception.”

Jungkook studies Jimin’s face, tries to see right through him. It won’t work and he knows it. Not when it’s Jimin, but he still feels inclined to try. Besides, he doesn’t like the tilt of Jimin’s eyes. He looks sad. 

“Where?” Jungkook asks finally, accepting defeat. 

“To a bar.”

At first, Jungkook doesn’t understand anything anymore, but Jimin explains, and then, it makes sense. Turns out Jungkook hasn’t been as good of a pretender as he thought, but that’s nothing new, too. He always carried his heart in his hands. Hoseok used to say that there’s a map to Jungkook's soul hidden in his eyes if only you look for long enough, and back then, Jungkook relished in the simplicity of their interactions. How Hoseok knew what he was thinking before he even figured it out himself. Now, listening to Jimin revealing all of his secrets that weren’t so secret after all, he hates it. 

But Jimin is right. He does want to go to that goddamn bar, even if only to expose himself to a huge disappointment, because the fact they used to go there doesn’t indicate Hoseok still does. Didn’t Jungkook stop, too, after it all went to shit? 

When he voices his concerns, Jimin reassures him, pats him on his shoulder and noticing it does nothing to Jungkook’s anxiety, Jimin envelops him in a bear hug so warm it could feel like a blanket if it wasn’t for the blonde strands of hair tickling the tip of Jungkook’s nose. 

“That’s why I’m going with you, dummy. If you won’t meet him, we’ll just get wasted. You look like you could use some alcohol in your system. And if we do meet him there—”

“Then what?” 

“Then we’ll either hide in the restroom or approach him. I’m fine with both.”

The churning in the pit of his stomach tells Jungkook he prefers the first of the two, but just one glance at Jimin, and he realizes they’re both very much aware.

____

After five minutes of bracing himself to eventually enter the bar while Jimin giggles by his side, calling him a baby, they open the door. 

Since it’s Saturday, there are more customers than the last time Jungkook visited. After some consideration, Jungkook isn’t sure anymore how true that claim is considering he didn’t really pay much attention to that kind of thing when he came here last time to drown his worries in countless bottles of soju. (Countless, because to this day he has no idea how much he drank).

Jungkook scans the few wooden tables and walls adorned by neon signs, disregarding all of the meaningless posters and numerous photos hanging on threads from the ceiling. He’s more than sure there is one being a remembrance for Hoseok’s and his third date, so finding it isn’t exactly his priority at the moment. 

Only then, when he fixates on the one couple occupying the table farthest away from the door, does he recognize a familiar silhouette. Oddly enough, it’s not Hoseok that catches his eye, but Yoongi. 

The sight prods his hand to grab Jimin’s arm in the hopes of grounding himself with the familiarity that Jimin poses as. 

“We can go home,” Jimin whispers from behind him. 

“No. It’s—it’s fine.” Jungkook gulps and takes a step towards the back of the room, hand never unclutching, always feeling Jimin’s coat under his fingertips. 

Two meters.

One.

“Jungkookie?” 

Hoseok’s voice didn’t change at all, and maybe that’s the worst part of it, because just hearing it feels like a blow in Jungkook’s stomach. For a moment, the air gets punched out of his lungs and his vision focuses blearily on the mop of hair Jungkook assumes belongs to Hoseok. Instead of a crown drenched in red, there are black strands falling on Hoseok's forehead. Before Jungkook's eyes can go any lower than this, he averts his gaze and locks it on the red plate attached to the wall above Hoseok.

Meeting him is one thing, but his eyes? He waited too long, too desperately for this moment to let it wither just like that. They deserve better than this.

A quiet, choked up, "Hi," is all Jungkook can come up with. His fingers squeeze Jimin's arm mechanically.

That's what makes Yoongi turn around, the man having finally caught up with the situation. Once he recognizes the person behind him to be Jungkook, his cheeks stretch as his lips morph into his signature gummy smile. Eyes glazed over with the carelessness of alcohol, Yoongi looks absolutely adorable with his face flushed pink and round like a dumpling. Jungkook can't help but smile.

He did miss Hoseok, more than he'd ever admit, but even so, the feeling was always laced with sadness, one that he couldn't carry by himself most of the time. Missing Hoseok was hard like that. Unbearable. Missing Yoongi was easier. It was safer, since his heart didn't tremble inside his chest at the very thought of him, just because it wasn't sure whether it's being pulled towards hatred or love, always roving somewhere on the line between the two. A line Jungkook's heart didn't intend to take a leap from. Not if it meant for it to plunge into the unknown. 

"Kook-ah?" Yoongi's eyes emblaze, aimed at Jungkook. 

"Hi, Jimin." He nods in Jimin's direction then, as he scratches his cheek. "It's been such a long time. Come give your hyung a hug."

Jungkook tenses for a second, but before he can even react, Yoongi's already up and stretching out his arms to clasp them around Jungkook in a tight embrace. Jungkook loves hugs, always has, so he eases himself into it, accepts the warmth and the soft pressure against his body. It doesn't even feel awkward when Yoongi pats his back as he swings them nice and easy, left to right, and again. Jungkook smiles against his neck.

"It's good to see you, Yoongi hyung." Jungkook hears Jimin say behind him.

All the while, Hoseok stays silent, and maybe, only maybe, Jungkook's grateful. Just facing him in all his glory fills his stomach with lead, his limbs so heavy he struggles to enwrap them from around Yoongi. Luckily, Yoongi seems to notice his intention before Jungkook can even coerce his arms to cooperate, as he steps back with a sheepish smile on his face. "Do you... do you want to join us?"

"I... is that okay?" Jungkook asks to avoid answering, but mostly because it feels like the perfect time to ascertain that his presence here is desired by everyone. Including Hoseok.

He dares one look that makes him stumble over his own thoughts once he sees Hoseok for the first time. Really sees him. He sees the delicate skin, lips that tend to mould a heart shaped smile prompting everyone who witnesses it to follow suit. He sees Hoseok with his gentle eyes and sharp jawline he used to plant kisses on back when he still could. Back when he still wanted to.

Does he still? Does he still want to?

He gets scared when comfort washes over his body, limbs filling up with distending warmth, like cotton seeping through his bones. And all of this just because a terribly awkward Hoseok sits a meter away from him, his gaze lowered and fingers scraping at the label on his soju bottle.

Has he ever stopped loving him? 

Jungkook blinks, waiting. His heart beats twice as fast now and Jimin extricates his arm from Jungkook's grip to slot their fingers in a sign of reassurance. Jungkook appreciates the gesture.

Hoseok gulps, and Jungkook braces himself for the words that will follow.

"Yes, of course. I'll order something for you two. I'll be right back."

And then he disappears just as hastily as one does whenever the sister of your mom's uncle comes for a visit, and you await the first opportunity to leave and lock yourself up in your room.

It would hurt if the little, annoying, but booming voice inside Jungkook's head wasn't relishing every letter that rolled from Hoseok's tongue. 

Jimin pulls at Jungkook's hand and leads them to the two chairs on the right before they take off their coats. The lights are dim here, but even so, Jungkook makes out the pink tinging Yoongi's cheeks. Jungkook coos a little inside.

"So, how have you been?" Yoongi asks, taking a sip from his glass.

Jungkook smiles sheepishly, because he always liked Yoongi, just as much as he enjoyed the attention that comes with being surrounded by the people who actually care about you. 

"I finally graduated, found a job too. It’s nothing grandiose per se, but I like being the main architect's assistant. Sometimes he even listens to my ideas."

Yoongi nods in acknowledgment, something in the lines of his features illustrating how proud he feels right now. If Jungkook wasn't this anxious, he probably would feel happy. Very much so.

"And you? Still in training?" Yoongi turns his eyes on Jimin then.

"Mhm. Two more years."

"I think a police uniform will suit you," Yoongi grins.

"Aish, with my face I would look good in anything, hyung," Jimin laughs loudly, his head tilting back, chin pointing to the ceiling. Jungkook laughs along, while Yoongi stares fondly, endeared. He and Jimin always had this weird connection that Jungkook could never fully grasp, nor did Hoseok.

He's suddenly painfully aware of how many people were affected by their breakup. How many friendships were put on hold, because he tried to patch up holes that haven’t been torn out yet. 

He feels like throwing up.

"So you still haven't changed?"

"There was no need to."

And perhaps Jimin's right. There was no need for any of them to change. If anything, now Jungkook just prays for all of them to stay the way they are for as long as it's humanly possible. He hopes for Jimin's laughter to never stop echoing inside his chest like a pair of bells knocking together in a chirpy melody, he wishes that the sheepishness of Yoongi's smiles will never fade, always accompanied by kindness and gums full on display.

Jungkook prays like a fool for Hoseok to have remained just like he was when they could still call the something between them as love instead of dreading the moment to address it. 

Now he's just sad and so full of longing that the love he so wistfully dreamed of in the past, even though it still feels the same, blanches with each day, the colors and the sun rays surrounding it dispersing into the greys of the dusk.

But Jungkook doesn't know that anymore, can't be sure whether his Hoseok is still there to be found, and truth be told, he's scared to find out.

So he laughs, shifting the attention from the trepidation rooting itself in his features to the sound now a little constricted, a little dull, but a laugh all the same. A remotely happy one, Jungkook hopes.

"And you, hyung? What about you?"

Yoongi nods with his lips pressed together before answering. "Same old. Trying to make it big as a producer, but it’s a little harder than I thought. Hoseok has more interesting stories to tell, that I’m sure of."

"Oh. Interesting how?" Jungkook is confused at what exactly "the many interesting stories" implicate.

Yoongi brightens up right here and there, as he perches his arm on the table, his pointer finger wiggling in the air, ridiculously close to Jungkook's nose. "He finally found a job related to his major, so he’s been happy these days. Busking in Hongdae on the weekends wouldn’t suffice for much longer. Seoul’s not the cheapest place to live, right?"

Jungkook laughs with his heart instead of his voice. Experiencing the Min Yoongi drunk has always been a hell of a spectacle, but more than anything, seeing Yoongi like this, so open and warm, feels almost like coming back home. Almost, because home is where Hoseok would wait, and Jungkook—

He's not sure there's anyone to come back to. 

"Jungkook pays most of our bills, so I wouldn’t know," Jimin joshes, swatting Jungkook's arm with his hand. "Sorry for that again," adds as if to chase away the phantom pain of the hit.

"You'll pay me back for it once all of your income doesn’t come from modelling gigs."

"What's wrong with them?" Jungkook hears Jimin pout as he swivels to nudge Jungkook’s chest. Jimin smacks his lips at him.

"The fact you get two every six months if you’re lucky?"

"Meaningless details," Jimin swipes his hand in the air. 

Jungkook opens his lips to tease his hyung some more, but then Hoseok appears in the corner of his eyes, grows and gains on centimetres until he towers over them all as he raises two green bottles of soju, joggling with them above Jimin's head. At first, there's a smile on his face, but then his eyes must have taken notice of Jungkook still being where he was when Hoseok left, because his expression twitches at the edges, the tempered light-heartedness threatening to break down like crumbled marble.

"So, uhm... I ordered grape for you, Jimin," Hoseok says, handing Jimin the bottle," and peach for—you."

"Thanks."

Jungkook quickly reaches for the bottle, making sure their fingers don't brush. Call him superstitious, but he doesn't want to risk the universe collapsing just because he and his ex couldn't keep their hands to each other. If the world was bound to end because of one touch, Jungkook wanted it to matter more than a mere exchange of soju bottles.

But mostly he's just petrified that one touch would sap all of the walls he built, all the reigns keeping the fear of the past disappearing completely, and once they're gone, there would be nothing to replace them with.

This sounds scarier than any heartbreak ever could.

All the while, when Jungkook berates himself for letting his thoughts consume him once again, Jimin and Yoongi try their very best to ignore the awkward weight of the air that lingers on their skin, the two laughing and challenging each other to drain one more glass, take one more sip.

After they get tired of the silence sewing Hoseok's and Jungkook's lips shut, Jimin claps with a hopeful smile. "Now, let's get this party started."

And even though Jungkook didn't believe it would, the alcohol sinks in, the tongues loosen up, and the party, indeed, starts.

Even Hoseok's eyes don't look so sad anymore. 

Jungkook can almost ignore it. 

____

Jungkook doesn't know what it is that makes him grin like an idiot, a dense one at that, throughout the evening. Maybe it's the alcohol, or the neon lights casting out the darkness from the corners of the bar. 

Or maybe it's the silly smile on Hoseok's face when he says, "‘I need some fresh air. Should we take the party somewhere more exciting?" All the while, he's holding his soju bottle in the one hand that's not occupied with patting his knee to the rhythm of the music coming out from the speakers.

Yoongi immediately cuts in, explaining how he's drowning in work and should probably get going home anyway. The rest assures him it's completely fine upon seeing a disappointed grimace bleeding into his features. Then, what Jungkook didn't expect at all, Jimin, too, bails without naming a proper reason, and for a second, Jungkook's confused. Maybe even terrified. Him and Hoseok alone? Is it his biggest fear or desire? He's not sure.

The confusion must have rendered his features, because Jimin points at the restrooms in the back, a quizzical look on his face. Jungkook nods curtly before he stands up and heads in the pointed direction.

Jungkook doesn't even have the time to brace himself for the conversation he knows will be about Hoseok, because Jimin is already there, his usually petite torso suddenly filling up the entire hallway. Jungkook exhales deeply.

"Why are you going?"

"Hyung, it's just—"

"I'm not dumb, nor blind," Jimin cuts in, gnawing at his bottom lip. "Why?"

"Because I can't not stay," Jungkook answers, his tone way too similar to a whine. "Because... it's Hoseok. It's Hoseok hyung."

Jungkook feels his hands curl into fists, something desperate reining his muscles.

Loving shouldn' be this hard , both Jimin and Jungkook think at the same time; Jungkook, because imagining Hoseok's cherubic smile shouldn't twist his insides with uneasiness, and Jimin, because caring for your best friend isn't easy when he's in love with someone he cannot reach.

Jimin bites harder at his lip, the skin jutting out from the pressure. Jungkook doesn't notice.

"I just don't want you to hurt," Jimin says eventually, fingers clasping around Jungkook's sleeve, pulling at his arm, so that the man comes closer.

"He's never done anything to hurt me."

"Maybe, but it's not him I'm worried about."

Jungkook's eyes flick up to meet Jimin's, and the stare they exchange feels to have its own gravity when they both realize they cannot retract. Jungkook frees his arm from Jimin's grip to then lace their fingers instead.

"I'll be okay, hyung. It's just one evening," Jungkook mutters. Ignores the stabbing pain when one leaves his lips. "Just one evening and he'll be gone again. Maybe for good."

"Is this what you want?"

"Do you want me to lie?"

"Yes."

"Then yes, I want him gone as soon as possible"

There's something sad about the way Jimin glances at him, as if he was afraid to find something he already knows is there. He smiles, but there's no joy to it.

"That's what I was worried about."

"You shouldn't. I'm okay, and it's gonna be fine. And if not, you're my best friend. Who else would be able to mend my broken heart but you, huh?"

Jungkook swings their hands in the air, dares a toothy smile that prods Jimin to offer him one in return. All of a sudden, the heaviness that tarried in the compact distance between them dissipates, leaving them with the feeling of warmth as the only weight hitching in the air.

"Aish, I should've thought about it more before I befriended you, brat."

"Definitely. It was very careless of you."

One glance towards their table, and Jimin squeezes Jungkook's hand once more.

"Be careful?"

"Will do."

And when Jungkook smiles, he realizes he actually means it.

Nobody likes to have their heart broken once, but twice? That's too grievous, even for Jungkook's standards. 

____

Jimin is the first to leave. Having thrown Jungkook one last sceptic look, he fetches his coat and motions for Yoongi to get moving, too, since the two settled on getting a cab together before.

Jungkook clears his throat when he joins Hoseok by the door. Hoseok's face is rosy and warm, chin hidden in the layers of a thick red scarf enveloping his neck. He looks a little awkward in the neon light that illuminates the outline of his silhouette as he stuffs his hands into his pockets and then pulls them back out over and over again. So he's nervous. Jungkook finds it incredibly comforting to know that he's not the only one.

"Ready?" he says a little bit too enthusiastically. He bites at his bottom lip to suppress the urge to smile like an idiot, because apparently that's what Jungkook turns into when drunk—an idiot.

"As ready as I can be," Hoseok answers with a half-smile. "Now let's get this party started."

_____

What Hoseok means by "starting a party" soon enough becomes a stroll through the empty streets of Seoul, the street lights casting a golden glow on every brick, sidewalk and person that their rays fall upon. The snowflakes still descend as if in slow motion light up in the light before they disappear among the white carpet of snow already blanketing the streets. Jungkook forgot how quiet Seoul gets when there's nobody to turn up the volume of the bustling streets and muddled conversations one can never truly decipher, the cacophony of words blurred into one when passing by faces to be forgotten a minute later.

Still, no matter how calm the atmosphere is, the awkwardness Jungkook fears so much resides in the little distance between his and Hoseok's shoulders as they walk side by side, but what seems like kilometres away.

When the wind catches them by surprise and Hoseok's breath hitches in his throat, Jungkook isn't sure if he curls his hands into fists inside his pockets because of the cold, or if it's out of frustration.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. They weren't supposed to act like strangers.

Jungkook takes a deep breath. The air pricks his lungs as it enters.

"I hate winter. And snow. And the cold. I hate it all."

Jungkook doesn't even realize that he's pouting.

"You're such a baby," Hoseok laughs against his scarf. There are lines rumpling the skin around his eyes, but before Jungkook can garner enough courage to look up to take in the sight, they disappear.

"Am not!"

"The fact that you disagree makes you even bigger of a baby."

Two emotions fight each other inside Jungkook's heart, and he hates that the one condemning Hoseok for calling him a baby, perfectly knowing there was a time he was his baby, seems to be winning.

Jungkook falls silent. Hoseok closes the distance between them, prompting Jungkook to look away. Again.

"Have you ever caught a snowflake on your tongue?" Hoseok's voice is crisp and light when he attempts to break the quiet.

"'m not sure."

"You should try right now."

Jungkook groans mentally, but then glances at Hoseok to see a genuine smile arching his lips. The street light they just passed builds a golden layer around Hoseok's head that makes it hard to not mistake him for an angel.

Something bitter nestles on Jungkook's tongue once the thought enters his head, and he even shakes his head inconspicuously to elude its claws. However, there are some things that one can't escape from, can't avoid for too long unless you don't want to lose your mind.

"Stop teasing me," Jungkook puffs out. His breath coils in the air, swathing the snowflakes in its blurry warmth.

"I'm serious!" Hoseok jumps up to then pass Jungkook and come to a halt right in front of him. Suddenly, the gold-sunken streets are obscured by Hoseok's happy face, and Jungkook lungs contract in vain as he urges them to accept the whiffs of oxygen he forces up his nose. "Look, I'll join you."

"You will?" Hope. That's what Jungkook would recognize his voice was dipped in if he only tried. 

He presses his lips into a thin line.

"Mhm."

When Hoseok cocks his eyebrow wearing a victorious smirk on his face without even having heard Jungkook's answer, Jungkook knows he was always meant to agree, to do whatever Hoseok's eyes asked of him until his own would give in. And as wrong as it sounds, Jungkook knows better. Knows love better, and what it makes you do in its name. Knows how once it takes roots in your heart, loving becomes your first and last instinct. Loving, loving, loving.

Sometimes it hurts, but even so, Jungkook would give up every single second that passed without Hoseok in his life just to love him again for as short as he can, be it a slight of a second if that's all he gets.

"Ugh, fine."

It's like a mute spell, not one converting the sounds into actions but one that embraces one's mind and points in the direction the thoughts should drift towards.

In the name of mutual understanding Jungkook’s thought was long gone. They both smile impishly and position themselves with their knees slightly bent to bounce then, tongues poking out of their mouths as the snowflakes fall, missing their tongues and adding to the white layer coating the street.

Hoseok laughs brilliantly when he bumps his head into one of the street lights due to how absorbed he was by the chase. Hands massaging his forehead, Jungkook watches him wince, mirth never dispersing from his features. The situation seems so hilarious to Jungkook that he can't constrict the bubby laughter that bursts out of his throat, arms holding onto his aching abdominal muscles, now strained, his entire body laughing along.

Hoseok squints, tilts his head slightly, the way that is so very much Hoseok, and then squats with his hands buried in the drifts of snow. Before Jungkook can comprehend what's happening, a shapeless snowball hits him straight in his chest.

"What was it for?"

"As if you didn't know."

Jungkook smiles in return, the most angelic smile of his etched into his features. Hoseok only rolls his eyes playfully before he goes back to tailoring his position, the tip of his tongue already protruding from between his lips.

Jungkook follows suit.

The stars are concealed by the veil of the light coming from underneath, but when Jungkook keeps tilting his head heavenwards, at some point the descending snowflakes turn into a mayhem of dancing stars, wind taking them somewhere only he knows.

Then it happens. Jungkook feels the cold bit of snow melt on his tongue.

"I've got it! Hyung, I caught one!"

Without thinking, because that's how the most important things happen, Jungkook bounces on his toes. His eyes find Hoseok's instinctively, and when he smiles the way the stars brighten above them, all Hoseok can do is to smile back. Faintly, just as much as he allows himself before the happiness that overcomes him gets too saddening.

"Congrats, bun."

Maybe it's a mistake; calling Jungkook by his own nickname, one that was only Hoseok's. Maybe it's cruel. Obtrusive.

Maybe Hoseok, just as Jungkook when he decided to come with him, has had enough of things he knows are right, but don't feel this way at all.

Maybe he just misses the love of his life.

The silence that settled quickly diffuses after Hoseok clears his throat. Jungkook's eyes are wide, the lights inside brighter than the snow and stars combined. Hoseok looks at them, learns them just in case it's the last time he has them in the reach of his hand.

Jungkook is confused. He's so confused at the explosion of emotions that erupts behind his eyes at the familiar nickname. Bun. How much he longed to hear it again, spoken in Hoseok's voice. Soft and edgy, the word sounding happy when leaving Hoseok's lips.

But as much as he loves it, cherishes each second, he's confused more than ever. Even more so when Hoseok untangles his scarf from around his neck and comes closer, cocooning Jungkook until he ties it in a knot on the younger's chest.

Jungkook looks at him questioningly, but Hoseok only shrugs, some of the snow draping the fabric of his coat.

"You said you're cold."

"Aren't you?"

"No. Not anymore."

Somehow, they both know that there's more to it than the bare words convey, but it's pointless to mention it, so they stay quiet. Instead, Jungkook snuggles into the soft fabric of the scarf in an instinct to sniff at it without Hoseok noticing. Breathing in the smell, he fills his lungs with the fragrance so inherently Hoseok that it almost squeezes tears out of his eyes.

"There's a park nearby. Shall we take a walk?" Hoseok asks, but he's already stepping in the direction the place must be in.

Jungkook nods eagerly and in disremembering, because-

How could this ever feel wrong? Flawed?

____

Some time later, the sky turns even emptier as it ceases its weeping. There are no snowy tears falling from above Jungkook's and Hoseok's heads, and as they stroll along the aisles, Jungkook misses the white powder settling on his hair. He liked the chilly sensation of melting ice soaking his head.

Ever since Hoseok tied his scarf around Jungkook's neck, they haven't talked much, but now Jungkook doesn't think the atmosphere is awkward. Not at all. The silence between them is like a mutual pact that offers more comfort than anything else.

Only when they pass a large tree with its crown of leafless branches reaching for the sky, they falter for a slight second after discovering a couple leaned against the trunk. They're so absorbed by their make out session that they must have missed the sound of Jungkook's and Hoseok's steps as they approached.

Now, Jungkook feels inclined to hide his nose in the scarf, his cheeks burning passionately with red tint. Jungkook's eyes level on the other side of the sidewalk and he misses the same red painting Hoseok's skin.

Who would have imagined that two people can think the exact same thoughts at the exact same time.

I wish I could kiss him.

"So, how's life been?" Hoseok asks to change the topic.

Jungkook gratefully smiles until Hoseok proceeds to walk. He follows his steps, but the answer he knows will give doesn't feel rewarding in any way. His life has been empty without Hoseok, and that's the only truth, never to be revealed.

"Okay? It was okay." Jungkook's voice breaks, so he clears his throat and continues, "Yours?"

Hoseok's face lights up.

"Oh, well. It's been great. I got this new job at the library. Never thought I’d actually like it, but it’s great so far. Would you believe I never met more people than when I’m at work? And here I thought you’re not supposed to talk in libraries.”

"Isn't it how we met?" Jungkook chuckles before he can choke on the words.

"Nope," Hoseok says, kicking the gravel lingering on the sidewalk as they both slow down. There's a melancholic smile on his face, one that strongly resembles the one on Jungkook's face. "It was in front of the university library."

"It still counts."

"Nice shot, but no, it doesn't." Hoseok smiles at the sky. Jungkook watches in amazement as the curves of his nose, lips and cheeks get embraced by the faint light of a far away street light.

“How are you even so sure it was in the front and not on the stairs?” Jungkook arches his brow at him.

Hoseok's eyes linger for a little longer on the moon until Jungkook shifts his weight from one leg to another, the movement drawing Hoseok's immediate attention.

There's something in his eyes that changed when Jungkook wasn't looking. The melancholy that bent his lips before now drowning his irises with its tides.

"There are moments that are unforgettable, you know? They’re like photographs in your memory that never fade."

Jungkook swallows, his legs starting to walk on their own as if staying still would make this moment even more nerve-wracking. Jungkook hears Hoseok's steps following his, but he doesn't allow the man to catch up, his face always in that one spot that merely grazes his peripheral vision, but isn't present enough to catch attention.

"Meeting me was like that?"

"It—it was."

It's too much for Jungkook to take in, so he decides to turn the atmosphere around.

He swivels on his heel, facing Hoseok, wearing a wicked smirk on his face, while he walks backwards. He never lets his eyes leave Hoseok's face, now reddened from the cold. At least that's what Jungkook assumes.

"Okay, what was I wearing?"

“This ridiculously big hoodie, which is still beyond me, cause god—how can you hide a body like this?" Hoseok shakes his head, hand gesturing towards Jungkook's torso. "It should be illegal.”

"It was comfy." Jungkook shrugs.

"And you know what's even more bizarre?" Hoseok chuckles to himself.

"What?"

Right before the words leave Hoseok's mouth, his eyes catch fire and a playful glint Jungkook knows all too well penetrates his features.

“I wanted to kiss you right then and there. And I didn’t even know about the abs that you hid under that hideous piece of cloth.”

Jungkook freezes. So does his face.

“Oh. Uhm. Thank you…  I think.”

Hoseok eyes drop then, corners of his lips hanging sadly, turning them into a flipped over half moon.

"Fuck, I'm sorry. It's the alcohol talking," he says, rubbing at the back of his neck. "I told myself I won't cross any lines tonight."

"It's... it's okay." Jungkook nods.

He isn't mad, not even upset. Just confused due to an abundance of unexplainable happiness rushing up his veins. The air is electrified when Jungkook comes to a halt, hands inside his pockets and eyes drilling a metaphoric hole inside Hoseok's chest.

Hoseok's gazes have always been too magnetizing to resist, and Jungkook doesn't want to give in just yet.

"It's just—it's just you," Hoseok blurts. Jungkook braces his heart, his bones. His everything. "You make all the lines disappear. Gone. Just like that. As if anything was possible and I’m stupid enough to believe it.”

"Hyung—"

"Should we call it a day? Or night. Or is it tomorrow already?" A tiresome sigh follows. Hands hidden inside his pockets now as well, Hoseok kicks the bigger parts of the gravel while keeping his eyes stuck on the ground. "Does it even matter?"

Jungkook can't believe what he's hearing, but even more than that, he's just so full of feelings, his stomach bursting from all the emotions. He feels like his skin will tear open any minute now.

"You want to go home? Now?"

"Mhm," is all Hoseok mumbles without lifting his eyes.

The fullness Jungkook couldn't define a moment ago turns into white noise, a clog of edges and sharp corners that cut his flesh from anger that washes over him.

"Are you kidding me?"

Hoseok looks up, and Jungkook can't believe they were both blushing just a second ago given how blank, how tired, Hoseok looks right now.

“Don’t you think I hurt us both enough for one night?”

“You’re just running away again. You always do," Jungkook scoffs, his hands curling into fists.

The wind pulls at Jungkook's hair when Hoseok attempts a broken smile meaning to placate the anger that bled into Jungkook's voice.

It makes everything so much worse.

“Then you shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Hyung, what the hell? How can you say what you just did and then expect me to go home and forget it ever happened?”

“Isn’t it what we did once already, bun? Run away and forget? It feels like it became our thing.”

Was it really? Did hurting each other in a desperate effort to love the other better became the norm for them?

However, what really bothers Jungkook is the forgetting. Because he never did despite many, many tries.

Was he the only one still holding on?

"Did you?" It comes almost as a whisper.

"Did I what, bun?"

"Did you forget about me? Us?"

Will Jungkook survive if Hoseok says 'no'?

“You already know the answer.”

Hoseok stature, his face, everything about him seems to have opened like a book with pages disclosed for anyone to read. Jungkook examines everything he knew about Hoseok and everything that he doesn't recognize now, but feels like he could relearn again, and realizes that even though he hasn't used the language of Hoseok's body for two years now, he still knows every sign.

“Then I don’t understand what this is all about, hyung.”

Jungkook is desperate, but when Hoseok speaks again, he chokes on the clogged words that he knows would be meaningless.

“Me neither, bun. Me neither. " Hoseok offers him one more lonesome smile, one that breaks both of their hearts, and then turns around. "We really should go home. Goodnight.”

And he starts walking, going somewhere Jungkook can't join him. Where he can't patch all of the torn shreds of their hearts.

"Hyung?"

Hoseok looks at him over his shoulder. Either the street lights render his eyes with a shiny gloss, or there are tears glistening in Hoseok's eyes.

Jungkook doesn't know which of the two he would prefer.

"Can we meet again?"

A smile. The end.

"Goodnight, Kookie."

For now.

___

It's been seven days since the last time Jungkook heard Hoseok's voice, and at this point, he feels desperate.

For the last two years he did just fine, reminiscing about the memories, making peace with the ghost of Hoseok's smiles and eyes angling whenever he felt really happy. All the while, it was enough.

It isn't anymore. Not when Jungkook once again heard his voice, breathed in his smell. Imagined the kisses that are now far too tangible on his lips. He kept biting at them over and over again to get rid of the disturbing sensation. To no avail.

He's exhausted.

The fatigue shows on his face prominently, he knows it. That's why he's not surprised in the slightest when Jimin invites him for a sleepover, Namjoon joining them out of solidarity, but Jungkook assumes they're just worried about him.

He loves them. He really does, but right now it only makes him more miserable.

It's three in the morning, and the three breathe in a steady rhythm, wrapped up in blankets all over the floor. Jimin's on Jungkook's left, his leg perturbing from underneath to have settled on Jungkook's shin. Jungkook smiles at his friend, even though he knows it'll remain unnoticed.

Some smiles are meant to be unseen.

Then, the failing light is divided in two by a column of light that's casted by the screen of Jungkook's phone when it vibrates with a new message. Jungkook lazily moves his hand, sliding up and down until his fingers brush the phone.

When he sees the message, his heart beats one final time before it halts completely.

Wanna hang out?

It's the least Hoseok-thing Hoseok could have decided to send, but even this unfamiliar tone is enough to make Jungkook feel suspended in the air as if he was floating.

Jungkook knows he’s being unreasonable, but he still unwraps himself from the blanket and puts on his clothes as quietly as possible in the hopes of not waking up anyone. He doesn't know if he's being a good friend or if he just doesn't want to face a situation in which he would be forced to explain his actions, and frankly, he wouldn't be able to.

He just wants to see Hoseok. Needs to. One last time. Just a time.

When he's by the door, hand planted on the door knob, he hears someone's steps from behind him.

"You're going to him, aren't you?"

Jungkook turns around, having enough decency to look ashamed.

"How do you know?"

"The look on your face," Jimin says, his voice still rusty from the sleep.

Jungkook narrows his eyes, trying to understand the meaning behind the words, but he doesn't.

"I’ll pretend I know what you mean.”

“It’s the same like back then, when you were still together.”

This confuses him even more.

“But we’re not together anymore.”

A sad smile tugs at the corners of Jimin's lips, and something in the pit of Jungkook's stomach sinks even farther, the weight gathering in his toes, feet cemented onto the wooden floor, unable to pull away.

" I know that. Do you?"

Does he?

Maybe remembering it is so hard, because he never stopped loving him, Jungkook thinks. Because in a way, even when separated, Hoseok has never left his heart.

Never left him.

“I’ll be careful, hyung.”

“I hope so, Kookie.” 

He leaves, and somehow he knows that nothing will ever be the same again.

Not even the smithereens of his own heart. 

__

Ten seconds is all it takes for Hoseok to open the door after Jungkook knocked shyly. Of course, it took Jungkook far longer to talk himself into knocking in the first place.

With an ambiguous smile, much like Hoseok wouldn't know himself if he's happy to see Jungkook or rather anxious, he beckons him in. Jungkook is welcomed by the same, familiarly white walls full of polaroids and doodles Hoseok and Yoongi drew over the years they've been living here.

When Jungkook's eyes flicker to the side to glance at the wall he was once pressed against, he averts his look, cheeks hot pink.

"Yoongi hyung's not home?"

"No. He's at the movies with Seokjin, being all gross and all. Probably oblivious, too," Hoseok explains while they enter the living room.

"They're still not together?" Jungkook scans the room until he decides the least awkward thing to do would be sitting on the sofa in the corner of the furniture-stuffed room.

“Nope. Yoongi hyung doesn’t seem to take notice of the heart eyes Seokjin has for him.” Hoseok shrugs. It seems like he's awaiting Jungkook's reaction before he finds a place for himself in this new and yet old scenery.

"Poor Seokjin," Jungkook mutters, plopping down onto the sofa. Hoseok slumps into the cushions just a second later.

"He enjoys the challenge, trust me."

With Hoseok close enough to sense his heat permeate the air, but still too far for Jungkook to truly feel his presence on his skin, he feels the long forgotten throbbing of his heart (and many other things) render his body into an instrument, a beat to song reverberating through his bones like pulling at the strings.

"So, why did you text me?"

"No reason."

Jungkook almost slumps into himself.

“Hyung, I’ll need more than that after the last time.”

Hoseok's eyes flicker to Jungkook's and for a second, it's like they were alone in the void of stars, the two of them shining the brightest. But then Hoseok glances back to some spot in between Jungkook's chin and elbow, and the light of what they both desire burns out.

"Couldn't stop thinking about you."

Frustration. That's what pinches at Jungkook's insides with a force of a dozen needles.

He tilts his head upwards, and not looking at Hoseok, groans, "But what does it mean?"

"Does it have to mean anything?" Hoseok drawls, and Jungkook only hears him move. Inching closer.

His breath gets stuck in his throat.

“It should, otherwise we’re wasting time," Jungkook says, but his voice is dull. Frail like a thread that's about to tear.

He starts kneading the skin on his thighs in the hopes that it would ground him. Somewhere close, closer than before, Hoseok breathes out and his breath fans Jungkook's cheeks.

Hoseok still smells the same. Probably tastes the same too.

 “When did you get so wise, Kookie?”

He only knows how. Remembers the pain of being away from Hoseok teaching him a lesson or two.

And now Hoseok's barely a step away.

“I missed you." Nothing but a whisper comes out of Jungkook's mouth.

“I missed you too. Is it enough?”

Jungkook finally lowers his chin, eyes falling upon Hoseok's without a warning. He hasn't realized how close he really is. How his knee is an inch away from brushing against Jungkook's thigh.

He can almost count the barely visible freckles on Hoseok's nose. Even after two years, they look exactly the same.

When Jungkook doesn't answer, Hoseok takes it as a sign. Of what both of them don't know, but it's enough for Hoseok to edge even closer, his legs now pressed against each other, the eyes of one anchored in the ones of the other.

Jungkook's breath hitches inside his throat as he closes his eyes shut.

“I want it too, but hyung—”

“Remember what I said? About the lines? How you blur all of them out?” There are hands, delicate finger touches on Jungkook's neck, his chin, and he can't think.

"Mhm."

Feeling the warmth of Hoseok's breath on his cheek, Jungkook organizes his thoughts in a way that doesn't organize anything, and waits.

“What if there are no lines. No rules. Just us. Would it be enough?”

Hoseok sounds so close, is so close, and Jungkook can't think, can't breathe.

He knows what he wants.

"Hyung—"

Hoseok's fingers slide back to Jungkook's nape and embrace it, gently pressing so that the tip of his nose is now brushing against Hoseok's.

Jungkook opens his eyes.

"Can I kiss you—"

And he sees. Sees for the first time the love he thought was gone, everything that turned into ashes now new and right in front of him.

He sees Hoseok. And then he kisses him. 

Once their lips touch, there is no waxed poetry in Jungkook's mind. Only white noise. Only Hoseok's hands roaming all over his back, his shoulders and then tracing back to the back of his head, hands fisting at the hair at his nape, bringing a low moan out of Jungkook's lips that gets lost somewhere inside Hoseok's throat.

Jungkook rises up on his knees to settle on Hoseok's lap, the pressure in all the right places so deliciously present, hot. As if the contact alone could set them aflame.

"But—"

"Just us, hyung," Jungkook breathes out before he bites at Hoseok's bottom lip. "Now, shut up."

There are no words being exchanged when the clothes lie abandoned on the floor, a trace of the rushed walk to Hoseok's bedroom. The silence of the empty apartment seems to only wait to amplify each slap of skin against skin when Jungkook's inside Hoseok, the entire universe promptly shrinking to the size of this bedroom, this bed and walls painted grey.

Jungkook drowns slowly, but just as intensely in the kisses, long and wet, tongues dancing and hands pressing where it shoots pleasure up the other's spine. He drowns, but somewhere during his descent towards the bottom Hoseok catches him every time, pulls him up with each bite of Jungkook's skin, with each of his beautiful moans anchoring Jungkook above the surface. 

In between the loving and touching, the sun sets the sky alight, just enough for it to turn grey. Their hands tire out, eventually settling somewhere where they can still touch the other, still love him wordlessly.

Around six, Jungkook's head resting on Hoseok's bare chest. He listens to his accelerated heartbeat. Knows it's his doing, because his own hammers against his ribcage just as vehemently in the face of what just happened. Of what is still happening.

"I missed that," Hoseok puffs against Jungkook's hair.

Jungkook feels brave, but maybe he shouldn't be this surprised. Nothing that transpired within these four walls gave him any reason to fear the question he is about to ask.

“Hyung… did you ever stop loving me? Cause I tried—I tried not to love you anymore. But then something would remind me of you, and it was like you never left. Like we never broke up.”

Jungkook lets Hoseok pull him closer, his arm now wrapped around his shoulders. He hugs his waist, sucks in the warmth and maps the smooth skin with his fingertips, always featherlike.

“I don’t think I remember how it’s like to not love you, bun." Jungkook swears that he can hear Hoseok's smile. "Seems like that’s all I ever knew.”

“I’m scared, hyung," Jungkook says, because as happy as he is, tomorrow is still terrifying.

"Of what?"

“Of tomorrow. What if we won’t work out again? What if we—”

"Shh," Hoseok whispers, planting one lingering kiss on top of Jungkook's head, then shifting just enough to reach his forehead with his lips and leave a kiss there, too. Jungkook smiles. Smiles like he would not know how to do anything else. "Let’s think of tonight as tomorrow. It’s just one long day that will never end. No nights to be scared of. No mornings to fear. Just one endless tomorrow.”

Jungkook inhales his scent. Vanilla and fabric softener. Hellos and goodbyes.

"What happened to you," Jungkook laughs before he traces a trail of butterfly kisses with his lips, right up to Hoseok's collarbones.

"It's the books," Hoseok retorts when Jungkook settles his chin on the other's chest, eyes big and bright like two coins looking at Hoseok the way only Jungkook can. Only Jungkook always could.

"So tomorrow tonight?"

"For as long as you want," Hoseok mumbles.

He then cups Jungkook's cheeks in the most tender way like he would be afraid Jungkook will shatter from a too hard of a touch. Jungkook smiles at him, slightly too big of teeth on display.

The smile never leaves his lips. Not even when all the metaphors hit him all at once, feeling Hoseok's lips on his again.

The tomorrow he was so afraid of never comes. They live in today, love each other like the twenty four hours would never end. 

And perhaps in some cases, they don't. 

Just one endless today.