Archive of Our Own

Jeon Jungkook – the younger of the two children Mr. & Mrs. Jeon had raised – was a restless kid. He was the kind of kid who was moody; the kind who threw tantrums; a handful because nothing held his interest for too long. No toy was good enough, he’d tire of them easily, which meant his unfortunate parents had to scramble to buy him new, shiny toys every other day just to get him to stop bawling.

Jungkook was still restless, but he grew up - long-limbed, bunny toothed - and grew out of his tantrums and moodiness. And the toys gave way for other things.

So, when the Jeon boy, at an impressionable age of fifteen, developed a love for singing and expressed a desire to audition for Big Hit Entertainment, his parents called it one of his passing fancies and figured a year or two would suffice before he found something new.

They were wrong.

Their son - the flighty and fidgety Jungkook - didn’t waver, and he found his center of gravity in the loud Seoul city, miles away from the clear seas and clear skies of Busan.

~

Habits are hard to let go of, and his restlessness never completely left, and Jungkook, despite being older and more mature, still flitted from one thing to another.

Performing became a constant; it was his life after all and a huge part of his identity, but it didn’t amount to enough. So, he traveled around the world, picked up boxing, swimming, painting, anything he could think of – dropped it midway to do something else. Sometimes, he came back to it. Sometimes, lost interest.

The world was his oyster with too many interesting things to explore and too little time.

Then, one rainy day, he met Kim Taehyung, and everything slowed down.

Kim Taehyung; older than him, but restless like him. Daegu’s resident, ’95 born, oldest of his two siblings – he was something.

Taehyung made an art of being all over the place; messy, with nothing to contain him. But he wasn’t fickle. He held onto people and places and his art tightly, carried them everywhere, gave it meaning.

And Jungkook couldn’t look away. Taehyung was similar and different in a way that never made sense to him. Bandmate, partner-in-crime, best friend. Even after seven years of friendship, he fascinated him like his shiny playthings never did.

(When he counted on one hand the things that are constant in his life, Taehyung made it to the list as an entirely separate category, which wasn’t friends or family, but simply as TaeTae hyung.)

*

Jungkook leans against the railing of the tenth-floor balcony, overlooking the shimmering city of lights, bobbing his head to Lauv’s ‘Never Not’ for probably the tenth time that day. A while later, Taehyung, in all his comfortable and soft glory, also steps into space.

Covered in an oversized, full-sleeved T-shirt and blue cotton pants, he maintains a few feet distance as he mouths the lyrics to some song playing on his phone.

He doesn’t notice the younger at first, but when he does, he smiles warmly towards him; Jungkook smiles back, the gesture thaws his insides in the slightly chilly night.

They don’t exchange any words, but Taehyung continues mouthing the lyrics, so Jungkook mutes Lauv to listen to his bandmate instead.

It’s an unfamiliar song - melancholic and somber and in English - and there is a hurt in Taehyung’s voice which he doesn’t understand, like so many things he doesn’t understand about him. He listens to his crooning and doesn’t let him know he’s listening, earphones in place, afraid he’ll stop.

It’s strangely intimate, the way Taehyung sings the words like he feels all of it, and Jungkook knows he’s probably infringing; it’s probably not meant for anyone’s ears. Taehyung isn’t choosing to be vulnerable – he has been, countless times – but right now, he’s unaware of Jungkook’s attention on him (Taehyung; vulnerable; through the pictures, he takes with his DLSR, through the songs he composes, through the tears he sheds when he comes to Jungkook’s room; it’s always his choice).

It’s intimate, and he’s probably infringing.

But he likes Taehyung like this – unguarded, himself, oblivious to everyone, allowed to feel whatever it is that he is feeling – with no façade.

Since he lives this life, has been living this life for more than seven years, he understands the suffocation. Sometimes, he feels a ‘it’s just there’ kind of sadness, nothing heavy or intense, but he’s forced to smile because when there are cameras lurking and tracking his every movement, people invariably have questions for even the slightest change. And he doesn’t like that. He doesn’t want people to always scrutinize his every action, his every expression. He’s just a normal boy, like anybody else, he feels what everybody feels. He just happens to be famous.

So, he doesn’t ask Taehyung anything, doesn’t question him when he sings the song with its sad twists and lets him be. Because he understands, maybe because he doesn’t want to be caught.

He stands there, transfixed, pretends to listen to the music on his phone, while he listens to the ebb and flow of his band mate's baritone instead; occasionally glances at his moonlit face (his moonlit face; all shadows and sharp angles), with his banjo-heart pounding steady beats, and with a litany of questions on the tip of his tongue; why do you sound so heartbroken? Can I hold your hand and make it okay? He stands there, in awe and adoration. 

The song winds down to a hum, and then, stops entirely. The only sound then is the whistle of the wind. Taehyung sighs and looks at the world spread out in front of him, and Jungkook looks. He glances at his phone, scrolls past Twitter, and Jungkook looks. He checks the time on his watch, shuffles on his feet, and Jungkook still looks. When he doesn’t turn, doesn’t say a word – is he still listening to music? - he reaches out to him as a guitarist would reach for the strings of his guitar. Taehyung turns around, and their eyes meet. And his raised hand hangs in the air, then drops gracelessly.

A beat passes, then he smiles in his usual, carefree way, ruffles his hair, and whispers, “Goodnight, Jungkookie”.

And just like that, he’s gone.

The wind blows.

(This is Taehyung; a summer child but not the sun. No, Taehyung is the moon. Mysterious, ever-changing; both the crescent and the full moon; sometimes, hiding away from the world, sometimes, shining so bright it hurt. So close, so far away.)

He’s a little cold.

*

The youngest remembers how he used to be in their rookie days. The bright-eyed Jungkook, the one who belted notes in front of the management with a finesse rarely seen in kids his age, was unsure and uncertain around the other boys from the get-go.

Being the youngest didn’t help either. Sure, they doted on him since day one, but there was always this feeling – this feeling he just couldn’t shake – of not being enough. They were tall and talented and certain. They knew the ins and out of this life, they understood the rules better than he did.

And his shyness was another problem altogether. He barely spoke, rivaling Yoongi’s stoicism to perfection. It was so bad that he couldn’t even change his clothes in front of the hyungs. 

Enter: Kim Taehyung, a burst of color and lights, on a gloomy, rainy day.

His Taehyungie hyung took his pinkie finger – his abnormally long fingers compared to his pudgy one - and dragged him everywhere. He coaxed him over gaming sessions, chocolate ice cream, anime marathons to be less reserved and more social. He became his commonality because this shared space began the process of tethering him to the new and strange city of Seoul, to the rest of the boys.

And so, it began.

It wasn’t long after, that he grew fond of the rest of his hyungs too. Taehyung was the linchpin, but the others helped him settle completely in the harsh and foreign embrace of Seoul city.

Still, Jungkook will never forget the thumping of his heart when he first stepped into the dorms, the longing for his mom, for Busan’s rustic air like a performer craving the stage – the gentle way Taehyung would hold his wrist – the anxiety – Taehyung’s warm hold when it was too cold – the nervousness – Taehyung’s big bright boxy smile which calmed him down, his mischievous eyes which begged to accompany him into troublemaking, Taehyung Taehyung Taehyung –

*

“Jungkook.”

It’s afternoon, and Jungkook knows it is afternoon despite the blinds being pulled down, because of the translucent glow against the curtains. The air inside the room is cool, so he can’t tell the temperature outside, not that it matters even if it’s the peak of summer.

It’s afternoon, and he’s in Jimin’s room, and there’s Korean indie music playing in the background; it’s as lazy as it gets.

Jimin calls his name, exasperation evident, and Jungkook barely raises his head from the ground where he is half-sprawled - the other half on Jimin’s bed - to look at his companion, who is sitting in a corner of the same bed with a magazine in his hands.

He shoots him the most withering look. Scrunches his nose. “Can you sit like a normal human being?”

And since Jungkook is well, Jungkook, he flaps his legs, which causes the mattress to shake and which also causes a thoroughly annoyed Jimin to inhale deeply and respond with “You’re insufferable”.

Jimin goes back to his magazine. He can’t see the cover from this vantage point, but it’s probably one of those celebrity ones which Jimin simply loved to peruse, while he ponders, for the nth time, what is entertaining about them; he’s never enjoyed any, he’s never enjoyed reading as a whole, in fact. Just one of the things he disliked, besides Math, of course.

“Jimin-sshi, what would you be doing at this moment if you weren’t BTS?”

This had been a long-standing game between the three youngest. Jungkook doesn’t even remember who came up with this question, but over the years, they have asked this one question to each other randomly. And it stuck.

Jimin just about raises his eyes to look at Jungkook, then goes back to his magazine. A small furrow appears between his eyebrows. “Probably this. Just back in Busan.”

It had been a long-standing game, and over the years, the answers have ranged from sitting in a restaurant drinking coffee with a girl to eating home-cooked food in the kitchen. Never grandiose, simple, and rather mundane things and no one ever mentions just what they missed, what they keep missing when they chose and keep choosing idol life, and they play this game.

“What about you?” Jimin finally keeps his magazine aside.

The answer sits on his tongue, but Jungkook doesn’t say it. Stops; swallows the words. He’d be in Busan too, probably wrestling with his older brother. The brother he hasn’t seen in months.

Jimin’s eyes are piercing, kind too, somehow. Like they always are. Like he understands.  He marvels at him, at the kind of strong and fragile he is, which he can never be. His teammate, friend, and brother from Busan.

He mumbles his reply.

“You must miss him,” Jimin leans forward, chin in his palm. His eyes turn mellow; there’s a downward quirk to his lips.

“Don’t we all miss family?”

Once upon a time, there was a 15-years-old, who left home and never came back. This boy followed his dreams, and his dreams led him to this: with the world at his feet, with his world far away.

Jimin hums. Plops on the bed. Stares at the ceiling.

“It’s funny, isn’t it? How we met, how we became Bangtan?”

Once upon a time, he left his home, and never looked back. Was it chance or fate?

“Would you have missed me?”

He retracts his legs from the bed, sits cross-legged. Jimin stares at him, upside-down. It would be comical if not for the air of seriousness there is.

It’s a stupid question.

“I wouldn’t have known you to have missed you. How does one miss someone who they’ve never met?”

How does one miss someone who they’ve never met?

Jungkook thinks about the first time he met Jimin. Jungkook was the shorter one then. After Taehyung, he was the first one he had considered somewhat of a friend. As it is, he never really thought of him as someone older. And that’s how the trio had come to be lovingly referred to as the maknae line.

“I’m glad we met though” – Jimin smiles his eye-smile, the crinkly one when he’s all too happy with Jungkook – “Who would have reminded you about your height otherwise?” Jungkook singsongs.

The sudden twist in his features is comical too. This time, he does laugh.

“I hate you”, he says, but there’s no real bite to his words. He’s also smiling a little if Jungkook squints.

A long pause. “Now, I wish I hadn’t met you,” he replies with a pout.

You don’t miss someone you never met. 

Jungkook swears he’d have missed Taehyung. He’d have missed him with a feeling of something not being quite right, like the last beat missing at the end of a song. 

It goes awfully quiet then, the music meanders to the last finishing notes. He realizes a second too late that he blurted his thoughts.

He holds his breath. 

“I’m sorry,” he says slowly, and the air whooshes from his lungs.

He’s not looking at cross-eyed Jimin anymore, opting to stare at his feet instead. He has always been cautious about Taehyung, always skirted the line which blurred their bond, skirted the topic itself. Because really, where was the time to sit and introspect and question what Taehyung meant to him when time was always a mile ahead of him, and he was merely catching up?

Except with the pandemic taking its toll, there is enough time, enough time to think things he wouldn’t have otherwise, enough time to –

Jimin slides next to him, back against the wall, gaze heavy on his side. He takes his hand.

“Does he know?”

That’s the thing with intimacy. Not too many words are needed to communicate.

He drops Jimin’s hand, stands in a hurry, it’s too much too much, and he’s not ready to – he’s not ready. Except, what is he running from? Jimin has always known, maybe his other teammates too.

The thing with intimacy is it doesn’t need words to communicate.

Jimin takes his hand again, intertwines their fingers, his hold firm. “You both have been dancing around each other for far too long. We all see it, except him.”

What is he running from?

His grip loosens. “My only worry is, when the light fades and the music stops, what if you’re the only one left?”

What is he -

Jungkook takes a deep breath.

“What if I have been dancing alone all this time? What if he never was with me?”

“Well,”  he locks eyes with him, smiles kindly, “you won’t know until you tell him.”

~

He doesn’t tell him. He goes on with his life, pretending the conversation with Jimin never happened. He goes on with his life and throws himself into perfecting the demos of their upcoming album, memorizing the dance moves. Throws himself at it because that’s the only thing that remains concrete and constant in this uncertainty.

He finds time to interact with fans, to play games with Taehyung and/or Jimin almost every day, and to share meals with all the members.

He picks a new hobby – guitar, this time – and practices it sincerely, moving on from kickboxing which was fun while it lasted.

It's normal, routine, to anyone looking at his life from the outside.

Yet, no one figures that his routine includes thinking about Taehyung. There’s too much time. So, he thinks about him for minutes, for hours.

It wasn’t a new development – this - thinking about him. It had been a habit; a habit he had developed over the long course of their friendship. Except now, it reaches a point of obsession, so much so that he worries he would lose his mind soon. 

There’s Taehyung and there’s love, both a rollercoaster ride, and Jungkook confuses one for the other.

(He blames Jimin for it, but it’s all him it’s all him.)

*

Once upon a time, a boy left his home and never looked back.

Jungkook didn’t factor in a lot of things when he chose idol life. He didn’t factor the grueling hours in rehearsals day in day out till the last move was perfected, neither did he factor in letting go of normalcy, of freedom – something as simple as stepping out on the street whenever he pleased.

Jungkook signed his youth away when he was fifteen, and that was the price of his dreams.

Love, then, was never understood. Physical attraction, yes, crushes too. But love? Not really. He went on a few dates with pretty girls he met in game-parlors and cafes. But it never turned into something more. In fact, what he knew of love came from the whispered conversations he had with Taehyung, sometimes, Jimin. So, he did what he did best: he moved on, called it ‘being busy’, and bundled the promise of love with his lost youth, and buried it.

Not that being a part of the most popular boy band in the world ever made it easy.

Love existed though, and he knew it. He had seen it with his parents, with his brother and his girlfriend, even, through the periscope of K-dramas. But it was more candy floss and daydreams, never within his reach.

Then:

Then, there was this boy.

“What are you smiling at?”

Taehyung and he were sitting in the cramped living room with an old drama playing on the equally old television. It was 2:45 am, and they had early rehearsals, but after weeks of no break, they had said “fuck it” to sleep and had huddled under a blanket. It was chilly, but the clothes and the cushions that were strewn around in complete disarray made it decidedly cozy.

“Nothing,” Jungkook replied, not revealing how endearing he found the focus with which Taehyung was watching the movie, even as his upper lip quivered with trepidation. 

Without much thought, he ran his fingers on the elder’s forehead to smoothen the frown lines. It oddly reminded him of the outlines of Busan’s mountains.

The moment his fingertips touched his skin, Taehyung leaned into it and looked at him from the corner of his eye and finally, smiled.

He just smiled, and his heart jumped to his throat.  

(He buried his lost youth and the promise of love, but he could never bury the whisperings of his heart when it came to Taehyung.)

*

Jungkook wakes to the smell of freshly cooked bacon. He wonders if he’s hallucinating for a minute before he jumps out of bed and rushes to the kitchen, shirtless and only in his solid black boxers, and is immediately greeted by the sight of the oldest, with a spatula in one hand and a can of oil in another.

“Good morning, princess,” Jin chirps.

He spots the others minus Yoongi – his gaze lingers on one face for an extra second - sitting around the table, which itself was covered in bright pink linen, to his alarm. Besides some murmured greetings, they continue whatever they are doing, nonchalant as ever, without even a double-take at his state of undress. He supposes this is what living together for more than 7 years entails; there is no room for secrets, and this doesn’t even qualify as one.

He goes to stand beside Jin, and indeed, he’s cooking bacon. He grins at the oldest. 

“I was feeling generous,” Jin says, and there is a hint of smugness in his voice.

He stares at the sizzling light of the stove for another minute, nods with satisfaction, then turns around to walk over the ’95 line and fling himself in the space in-between.

Taehyung smiles prettily at him, bumps his shoulder with his, and while he is busy appreciating the halo of the gentle, morning light filtering through the window and crowning his head, Jimin tackles him from the other side.  “Jungkook Oppa is so handsome!”

Living together for more than 7 years means no room for secrets but it also means you never grow up around each other.

“Piss off, Jimin-sshi.”

“That’s no way to talk to your elders!”  Jimin announces and attacks him with renewed vigor.

It’s Namjoon’s voice a second later which gets Jimin to stop his tickle-attack and sit straight, faint blush dusting his cheeks. He follows the older and lifts himself from the carpeted floor.

“Aren’t you two a little too energetic for the morning?” Their leader lets out a tired sigh.

Hoseok pats his shoulder but winks at the mischief-makers behind his back. Taehyung laughs openly.

Jin appears with a plate decked with bacon and toast, and it smells heavenly. Yes, they are BTS, but these small things never stop being exciting.

Jungkook, at once, dives into his food.

As he’s wolfing down the bacon bits, Jin says, “Can you please wake Yoongi after this? I really wanted all of us to have breakfast together.”

He groans because waking Yoongi hyung was the worst, but he’s quick to suppress it when Jin glares at him.

“Jungkook-ah, I will accompany you, don’t worry,” Taehyung chimes beside him, and he stares a little too long at his companion, always taken by his big bright boxy smiles.

He nods enthusiastically.

“Alright, Romeo, finish your breakfast,” Jin mutters, and Jungkook swallows the rest of his food along with the comment. The comment doesn’t escape Jimin’s notice though, and he snickers, so Jungkook accidentally elbows him.

In record time, he gobbles his food, sprints to his room - to pick a T-shirt - and back, falling in step beside Taehyung.

After a stretch of comfortable silence, Taehyung says, “I have a plan,” eyes bright.

Taehyung having a plan was the best-worst thing. Flashes of various such best-worst plans come to his mind, ranging from harmless to bizarre, while the result was always the same. Trouble.

Despite being wary, he prods Taehyung to continue.

“It’s not that big a deal, I promise. It’s harmless.”

The thing with intimacy is, you trust without thinking or questioning so much. And he believes him like he always does like he did the first day Taehyung asked, “Want to try mint-chocolate ice cream?” He has never been one to deny Taehyung anyway. He’d still let Taehyung drag him anywhere if he promised to be by his side.

They reach Yoongi’s door by then. Taehyung pushes the door, enters screaming his name – and Jungkook covers his ears because Taehyung can scream.

“Hyung, wake up!” Taehyung stomps around the room, creates a veritable ruckus and even shakes the corpse-like body of Yoongi. “Bang PD is meeting us in five minutes, hyung! Wake up!” Taehyung continues his incessant verbal rampage, and only after an eternity, the motionless form of their hyung stirs.

He whines, once, twice, then, at last, peeks from underneath the fort of pillows and sheets. 

He croaks, “What the fuck do you want, Tae?”

Taehyung inches closer to him – and Jungkook would be scared if it were him because honestly, you just don’t fuck with Yoongi hyung when he’s still half-asleep, 7 years of friendship be damned. But Taehyung bends to his eye level, whispers, “Meeting. 5 minutes. Bang PD.”

They are damned to Yoongi-hell after their silly prank anyway, so might as well.

 “Why now?”

Mission successful then. Yoongi hyung’s awake.

Amidst more Can’t believe you’re making Bang PD wait! and Yah! Just leave me be. I am sure Bang PD can do without me, Yoongi gets out of his bed.

They are once again at the corridor, this time Yoongi in tow, and it’s almost absurd how hard Jungkook has to restrain himself from laughing out loud. For all the rapper’s bravado, an impromptu team meeting with the CEO of their agency does wake him up quicker than expected and makes him take things seriously. Except –

“So, which way for the meeting?” Buttoning his checkered green-black shirt, he asks.

“What meeting?” Taehyung asks, smiles widely before turning around to give a run.

Jungkook looks between Yoongi and the running form of Taehyung, Yoongi, and the now empty side of the corridor and doesn’t waste another second to run for his life too.

Yoongi’s indignant shrieks and expletives follow him before he turns around the corner.

~

Taehyung is laughing when Jungkook catches up to him; bent forward, tears in his eyes, hands on his knees.

The youngest drinks this sight of his – hair billowy, skin radiant, laughter musical – and commits it to his memory. He can’t remember the last time they had done something as juvenile as this, can’t remember the last time they had pulled a silly prank, together, and almost incurred the wrath of one of their hyungs.

He misses that time; they had grown up too soon.

“We should do this more often,” Taehyung exclaims between laughs, and the maknae wholeheartedly agrees.

Eventually, his laughter dies down, and he stands with his back against the outside wall of the main rehearsal hall, looks at Jungkook with a quiet, unwavering focus.

“I wish we had recorded it, it was epic,” Jungkook says, for want of saying something.

He regards him still, then his attention shifts to a spot on the ground. “I’m glad we didn’t. I think some memories are better when private.”

Jungkook waits for him to look at him, but he doesn’t, he's again lost in thought.

So, he is surprised when the older mumbles, “Sometimes, do you wonder who you really are when the cameras are off?”

“Sometimes,” Jungkook replies, after a pause, and Taehyung is about to say something when a loud crash distracts them both.

Taehyung’s expression crumples, and Jungkook is certain his features mirror the worry that’s evident on his face. They hurry back to the dining hall, last where they were all assembled, and as soon as he notices the commotion, he knows.

He exchanges a look with Taehyung, and they double-back in laughter.

Broken china. One hassled leader. The God of destruction strikes again.

“Look the demon spawns are here.” Behind Namjoon, Yoongi intones.

They laugh harder, then tiptoe through the mess to resume their seats.

While Namjoon clears the porcelain on the floor and Yoongi looks at them with murderous intent, the rest of his hyungs sport identical expressions of amusement, undoubtedly having heard the tale of their silly prank.

“The one day I want to have a nice, wholesome breakfast, and what do I get? Kids tackling each other and lying to wake their hyung up, one surly roommate, and one Namjoon dropping something.” Jin sighs in resignation.

Hoseok giggles. “Okay, but you are stating the usual. What’s new?”

The thing with intimacy is there are set patterns. Navigating together through the humdrum of life becomes as much muscle memory as performing a choreography practiced a thousand times. There’s no room for surprises.

Namjoon throws the pieces in the trash and joins the rest. Jin sits at the head of the table, the maknae line on one side, the rappers on the other. “Wanted to enjoy a good meal together, just by ourselves,” he says.

“Thanks, hyung. The food was really good,” Namjoon says, guilt dripping from his tone.

But Jin is smiling in that indulgent manner when it’s Namjoon, and everything is already forgiven and forgotten. 

“I still hate these two,” Yoongi deadpans, and the table breaks into another round of guffaws before it eventually quietens. Namjoon uses this opportunity to interject, “Hey, guys. So, I wanted to say something.”

He clears his voice.

“Right now, we would have been on a tour, and it’s unfortunate that instead we are holed in the dorms, away from our beloved fans” - others assent in murmurs and nods –“nonetheless, I hope we all make good use of the time. Sleep plenty, catch up with friends, or watch shows we have been postponing for too long. Read books, indulge in hobbies, and most importantly, take care of our health: mental and physical.”

Jungkook gags at the 'read books' part but mostly, his chest fills with affection for their leader, his words settling in him like the cheerful sound of a flute, and a quick glance around the table reveals that others feel the same, if their cotton smiles are an indication. Yoongi hyung isn’t scowling anymore, either.

What follows, then, are discussions about how they fill their days, their feelings, what they miss. The sun outside is bright now, almost garish – Seokjin hyung pulls the curtains when the rays get too harsh – and he reserves this calm, unhurried Monday in the folds of his mind. And he reserves the memory of Taehyung, golden, under its light with it.

*

Few years post their debut when Jungkook’s fists were no longer too little to hold onto the world, he stopped being scared to take up all the space like he used to. He grew to be taller, bigger, wiser, while Bangtan scaled newer heights.

But, while the world seemed conquerable, he also became intimate with the fear that came with the possibility of failing. The stakes became too high, he suddenly had something else to lose which wasn’t just his youth.

It was one of those days – most days were days like this - when there were back-to-back practices scheduled. They were still getting accustomed to the whole idea of being a youth icon, finally out of the well of anonymity, and that translated to more rigor, more hours, more sweat, more everything. So, it was one of those days when his entire body was sore and screaming in protest, but he didn’t stop.

Everybody functioned as a cog in a well-oiled machine. They knew their roles, the sequence, the outcome of it all. So, when Hoseok hyung said ‘from the top’, they followed, and when Jimin hyung intervened to suggest an improvisation, they listened. Taehyung picked up the moves the first, Namjoon and Jin hyung practiced separately. He focused on his singing, was the choreography getting too intense that his singing suffered? Yoongi hyung threw packaged water bottles at each of them while rapping his lines under his breath.

They were a system so if one part went defunct, the other parts suffered.

It was in the Spring of 2017, that the cogs of the wheel fell out of rhythm.

In that Spring, their summer bright Hobi hyung lost some of his shine. He stopped talking to the six of them, only kept to himself, always looked frustrated. His phone kept him company.

Nobody uttered a word for a long time. Intimacy also meant giving space for the other to exist in peace. So, they let him be and hoped to whatever power there is, that it would become better soon.

Except it didn’t, and his mood only deteriorated as Spring turned to Winter, and that was when Yoongi and Namjoon hyung decided to intervene.

This wasn’t new. Seven years meant seven years’ worth of hardships as well. Family issues, insecurities, external threats – these plagued them from time to time. So, dealing with problems of any kind wasn’t anything new; the only difference was that while earlier Jungkook would be kept in the dark as all his hyungs sorted out the matter among themselves thinking him too young to even understand, now Jungkook became a part of everything that constituted Bangtan.

He was in the know - even as his two hyungs spoke to Hoseok hyung in hushed tones -in the meanwhile, regarding them from the sidelines.

In the end, it turned out that what caused a rift between the rest of them and their Sunshine hyung pertained to the heart. There was a girl who his hyung had started seeing but given their unrelenting schedule and global fame, there was no space for her, which left a crack between the two as huge as the gap between the first and last key of a piano.

It was simple, then. There was no other way but to let go.

Until the sun became stronger and stronger with the onset of summer, his dancer hyung didn’t smile. However, with each passing day, he came back to them, little by little – the remaining key fell into place, right where it belonged. Before Summer hit them with its full force, Hoseok hyung was smiling and joking and laughing again.

He began seeing someone again, but this time he told everyone about it from the beginning, and months passed without any hiccup. She was pursuing her final year of a medical degree, so she was just as busy, and that allowed her to appreciate his lifestyle much better.

Of course, that didn’t make Jungkook any less fearful. If this fell apart, he didn’t want to think about the repercussion on his hyung. So, he voiced his apprehension during dance practice when it was just the two of them.

“You worry too much, Jungkookie. I am better now, and this time, if it doesn’t work out, I will handle it much better, I promise.” 

Jungkook was still skeptical, and rightly so.

“Doesn’t it scare you? To risk your heart again?”

“Listen, kid. Of course, it scares me, it terrifies me. But even if you fear something” – he stretched his arms, chuckled like he was cracking a joke – “You do it anyway.”

*

Time crawls, and his days trickle by in a meandering motion. Jungkook too used to the fast-paced idol life and constant lack of time casts mismatched steps in this race.

There are still performances lined – the internet is a wonderful ecosystem – yet the current timetable is nothing compared to the back-to-back schedule he’s accustomed to.

So, he falls within himself and no one notices, and he idly wonders if he’s the only one who feels as lost, as bored. He also wonders if he should talk to someone about it, maybe Taehyung? – but there is ever-present anxiety whenever he thinks about him, so maybe not.

(Maybe it has nothing to do with boredom, and everything to do with his best friend, the golden-colored boy.)

He moves – doesn’t run anymore, he’s tired – and he adjusts, as well as he can.

And then, one of these days Taehyung wakes him from a restless slumber. He whispers his name, and when Jungkook opens his eyes and stares at him stupidly, he hushes him and beckons him to follow, “Come with me?”

So, Jungkook does. Step after step, the sounds of their feet padded by their slippers stay muted, as they slip past the hallway, past the elevators on their floor, and head for the stairs.

After climbing two flights, and not intending to halt, Jungkook reasons they are headed for the terrace. They could have taken the elevator, but it seems Taehyung thought differently.

He remains mute and walks after him.

Once they reach the open roof of the eight-story building, he takes a deep breath, a little exhausted from the climb, as Taehyung moves closer to the parapet. He joins him.

The view is breathtaking, more so than from the balcony, because from here he can trace the movement of the dark clouds, open and unfettered, and the thousands of stars too. Tonight, there is a crescent moon giving the stars its company.

Of course, he has come here before, but it has been rare; he had been too tangled and distracted by everything else to make the effort. Such a simple joy, he wonders, yet so easy to miss out on.

He turns around to ask the reason for this late-night stroll, but it leaves him reeling when he catches Taehyung’s singular gaze on him.

There's something delicious when Taehyung fixes his attention on him. It's daunting, it's also thrilling. Sometimes he is so lost in him, that he forgets that he also sees him. He sees him, all of him.

Just like that, Taehyung looks away and looks to the sky, smiles like he knows a secret.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Jungkook agrees, but nothing comes out of his mouth, his brain too busy processing the cadence of his heartbeats filling his ears.

His hand makes its way to his fingers, which are awkwardly resting on the surface of the parapet, “I’m sorry for waking you up”, he lowers his gaze, apologetic; Jungkook is about to tell him that it’s okay, he doesn’t mind, when he cuts him off, “Been having trouble sleeping, you know?”

He closes his mouth, nods, tries to convey that he understands.

Namjoon hyung had once said that they were the same people, residing in different bodies.

You don’t miss someone you don’t know.

“Me too,” he murmurs. Taehyung caresses his palm, and he supposes it is to comfort him; instead, goosebumps break on his skin.

Jungkook wants to ask when and why didn’t you tell me, because they have been meeting every day, playing games together; they share the same space, after all. But he holds back because hypocrisy tastes bitter, and he is grateful Taehyung told him when he did.

He’s grateful for Taehyung, for his warm and tangible presence at this hour. (Warm, always warm. Like the summers. Taehyung: the summer moon.)

“So, how are you feeling, Tae?”

Taehyung stops fidgeting with Jungkook’s fingers, smiles sheepishly, “I – I don’t know? I felt, sort of, claustrophobic, I guess. Decided fresh air might do me good. But it was too late, and I didn’t want to come here by myself, and everybody was also asleep. And though, you were asleep too, I knew you wouldn’t mind being woken. You don’t, do you?”

He says it all in one breath like he does when he’s nervous. Jungkook shouldn’t find it as endearing, but he’s a sucker for all of Taehyung’s mannerisms.

“No, hyung. I don’t mind. I’m glad you asked me to accompany you.”

Taehyung visibly relaxes and gives him a grateful grin. He takes his hand, once again.

“I sometimes worry this will never end. This is how our lives will be like. Trapped in one place, away from the hustle and bustle of crowds, festivities, concerts.” He says concerts with a frown, and Jungkook is tempted to chase it away.

He doesn’t, and instead says, “No, Tae. This will end soon. Please don’t worry too much about it. We’ll meet our friends, family, and even our fans, again. We’ll go out again.”

“Well, how are you so sure? What if it takes years before a cure is found?” He asks, apprehension evident in his tone, the frown deepening further.

The thing with intimacy is Jungkook knows exactly how Taehyung’s feeling, he too feels the uncertainty in his gut, in the spaces between his bones. But he has nothing concrete to give him, no solid reassurances, except for his company.

“Well then, I am glad to be stuck with you.”

Taehyung murmurs something akin to “such a sap”, but he accompanies that with a soft grin, which replaces the frown, and it is worth it. Under the glow of the dim light, Taehyung is striking – when is he not – and Jungkook shamelessly catalogs his features: the roundness of his cheeks, the arch of his lips, the tilt of his eyebrows. A hobby that he never tires of.

“On second thoughts, you’re right. Not like there’s much left to live. Right now, would be a good way to go – when we are at the peak of our careers, both rich and handsome.”

He supposes Taehyung’s right in a way. When they had started out as rookies, they had more dreams than fans, more dreams than the number of trophies and honors adorning the shelves of their dormitories. They didn’t have a lot of money, nor space, barely enough to make it through. They did have time and their youth, both of which they bargained for their dreams. And now, they have everything. They are still the same boys, but they are all of those things which Taehyung pointed out. He didn’t even realize when they adapted to the idol lifestyle – to all the cameras and expensive clothes and fancy cars – but they did, and really, what more could one ask for? Yet, this can't be the only thing that their life was to be built on, right?

“You’re serious?”

“Why not?”

“That’s – that’s ridiculous! There have to be other things to live for.”

Wry smile in place, Taehyung asks, “Like what?”

Jungkook takes a deep breath, wracks his brains for something.

“Well, I agree our biggest dreams have come true. But what about our other dreams? We still haven’t seen the Aurora Borealis, or – or the Taj Mahal. We haven’t had a steady relationship yet. Fuck that, I haven’t had a duet with Justin Bieber!”

Taehyung laughs – it’s deep and throaty – and Jungkook blushes from head to toe. He also realizes, belatedly, that he swore in front of Taehyung. He’s about to apologize when Taehyung interrupts, “Don’t. I know you are going to apologize for swearing, but just – don’t. I hate when you do this: treat me like a hyung, who needs to be respected all the time, instead of treating me like a friend.”

Jungkook shuts his mouth. He tries to treat Tae as his friend, and he dares say he has become better over the years, but sometimes their age difference and with it, the ingrained hierarchy is hard to ignore. Tae insists he drop the honorifics permanently, but he wouldn’t dare.

“But other than that, point taken. Love is a good enough reason to live,” he says, his tone wistful.

He has a faraway look on his face, and once again, Jungkook tries to find answers to what Taehyung could be thinking. He wants to prod and probe his mind till he knows each and every thought that Taehyung has had, wants to know him inside-out, be as familiar with him as a musician is with their instrument. He wants to solve his mystery and give his mind a rest from the constant wondering.

Taehyung, Taehyung, Taehyung.

“It’s decided, then” – Jungkook breaks away from his inner monologue – “The first thing we do post-pandemic is to see Aurora Borealis. Just you and me.”

He shouldn’t feel as joyful as he does when he adds the just you and me, but he does.

~

Once upon a time

They talk for another hour or two, Jungkook can’t tell, and in that time, Taehyung’s hands don’t stray from his hands for longer than five minutes – and Jungkook, he doesn’t really mind.

Once upon a time, a boy left

The temperature drops further as time passes by, but they huddle close, and the idle chatter in-between warms them both. They don’t talk about work, about Bangtan, but they talk about old memories, about their last telephonic conversation with their family, and it’s as bitter-sweet as the impending departure of Summer is. They talk till the stark black of the night sky turns into streaks of navy blue, and they hear faint sounds of birds from faraway.

Once upon a time, a boy left his home

They eventually drag their feet back to their rooms when Jungkook’s eyes begin drooping, and when Taehyung mirrors his yawns. But there is a smile on their lips, a softness in their brown-black albeit sleepy eyes. Jungkook tucks Taehyung in bed, and because he can he presses his lips to his forehead.

Once upon a time a boy left his home and found

Is everything okay, then? Not completely. He realizes he never did talk about what’s plaguing him - not that he himself knows – but in listening to Taehyung’s fears, he finds his solace. So when he drops to his own bed, he falls asleep instantly and for the first time, he doesn’t play catch up with time and lets it be. That night/morning, he dreams of candy floss and big eyes and boxy smiles.

Once upon a time a boy left his home and found a new home.

~

It becomes a ritual. Taehyung visits his room, whenever he can’t fall asleep, and Jungkook is always awake, waiting for him. They sit on the floor of the terrace, their backs against the parapet, and they talk and talk some more. Sometimes, they remain silent. Sometimes, Jungkook sings a song, and Tae’s eyes don’t leave him, and sometimes, Taehyung hums a song, and Jungkook closes his only to see his face in his eyelids. Jimin catches them twice on their way to the terrace, but he never comments, and despite Taehyung’s insistence he doesn’t accompany them. And so, it goes.

(“I have an idea.”

Jungkook groans.

“No, hear me out! Let’s write a play.”

He pretends to jump off the roof.

“How did you know I wanted to write a tragedy?!”)

*

Like Hobi-hyung, it wasn’t a surprise that the other band members also went out with girls for dates. It wasn’t easy because they had to be careful to avoid public scrutiny, and they had to pick relatively emptier locations to meet, but it was something, so they weren’t quick to complain. They were glad they could date at all, even if nothing concrete came out of it, even if they had to hide their relationship status, howsoever temporary, from their fans.

Not that it mattered greatly to him, he had already made his peace.

It wasn’t a surprise then when Taehyung went out with a few girls himself over the course of the years, but it was a surprise when he announced to the group that he was going steady with a girl for over three months now.

(No one except Hobi hyung had managed to maintain a relationship for a long duration.)

He was fiddling with his swimming gear when Taehyung sprung the news on them, and he was happy for his hyung, as were the others. He grinned at him and squeezed his shoulder, and he reacted by pulling his cheeks. They had a small celebration (they just needed any reason to celebrate) and jokes about Hobi and Tae hyung being off the market were made, and he laughed heartily. But once everybody went to sleep, and he jumped into the swimming pool because he fancied a swim, something twisted inside him. And it twisted further and further, till he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see. It was 1 am, he was swimming in their private pool, and he couldn’t tell the water from his tears.

He got out of the water, toweled off the mix of water and tears, and walked back to his room.

~

It was the fourth month when Taehyung, just as casually, announced that he had broken up, and they had a celebration once again. Jungkook didn’t smile once. They chalked it to him feeling bad for his hyung, and coo-ed over his innocence.

He didn’t correct them.

~

It was about a month later when they did an interview, and Namjoon hyung announced that none of the members had a girlfriend or boyfriend. Now, Jungkook knew about the LGBTQ community. Just because it was illegal in South Korea didn't mean he didn't acknowledge homosexuality or bisexuality. But he never really bothered to introspect until the interview.

And so, like the ever-curious Dongsaeng that he was, he approached the leader. Or more like their leader crossed him as he sat on the kitchen stool sipping banana milk.

"Hyung, today in the interview when you mentioned none of us have a girlfriend or boyfriend, did you mean in general or did you -

He hesitated. He didn't mean to pry even if he was curious; after all, he didn't have any right to question his hyungs on their sexuality.

"Go on?" Namjoon hyung beckoned. "You know you can tell or ask me anything."

"I - I don't mean to sound rude, but did you say it because one of us could be not straight?"

Namjoon laughed. And Jungkook was glad that Joonie hyung found it funny and not offensive. Still, he hoped he hadn't crossed any line by asking that.

"Jungkook-ah, you're so cute." He flicked his forehead lightly. "It's okay to have this conversation with the rest of us. We are brothers first, then bandmates. As for the answer to your question, we're all at an experimental age but because of us being who we are, we still don't know certainly. Take me, for example. I could be bisexual. I do find some men incredibly attractive."

"You - you do?"

On one hand, the flippant way in which his hyung answered this question relaxed him, on the other hand, the possibility of feeling this way about someone who wasn't a girl, and the complete acceptance of it, left him quite unsettled.

"South Korean laws are still draconian in some cases, this being an example." He added, emphatically, "Just remember that you are can feel anything and everything. This is your life, let no one dictate it."

When he didn't say anything for a long time, Namjoon flooded the semi-dark kitchen with the overhead light bulb, patted his head, and left him to deal with his pirouetting thoughts.

*

It's the end of summers, and the wind plays with Jungkook's hair as he sits on the parapet of the terrace. It's early evening, and for a change, he appreciates the setting sun - orange streaks adorning the unending blue of the sky. It's a stunning vision, and he lets himself be lost in the movement of the birds, the rustle of the leaves, the panorama of an explosion of colors.

It's so perfect, he almost wishes to capture it on a canvas. Maybe, he should ask Taehyung to click a picture.

At the thought of the older, his phone rings, and he eagerly picks up.

"Jungkook-ah, where are you?"

In under a minute, Taehyung sprints through the entrance and bumps his shoulder with his.

"Missed me, is it?" Jungkook teases him.

"Always."

Jungkook raises an eyebrow, gives a shake of the head, tries hard to not smile. Taehyung is already busy clicking the picture of the sunset from various different angles.

"It looks especially pretty today, doesn't it?" 

He hates the pandemic, but if Jungkook had to choose a silver lining, he decides it's all this time with Taehyung. Especially, on this rooftop. That night, when they climbed the stairs to find an anchor to their new meaning of life, they claimed a small place for their chaotic thoughts and for each other. And he is grateful.

"Do you want to watch a movie together tonight?" Taehyung asks after he is done clicking the pictures and as he sits next to him.

"What did you want to watch?"

"Anything works, as long as it is with you," Taehyung replies, cheekily.

Jungkook raises his eyebrows at him and squints his eyes. Taehyung is always daring, but today he seems to be a man on a mission; a mission to embarrass him and make him stutter.

"What's gotten into you today?" Jungkook asks.

"Nothing," but he notices the sparkle in his eyes which tells him that Taehyung is scheming.

The thing with intimacy is he knows all of Taehyung's looks. So, what is the scheming for?

"Just pick a movie, hyung," he says and shakes his head, hides a smile. The sun is below the horizon now, the orange is replaced by the somber navy blue, except in some places where the streaks are still lighting the sky. There are no stars yet.

"I'll see you in your room, then. Say, after dinner?"

He nods. Stares once more at the disappearing orange, then brushes his hands and jumps off the parapet.

Taehyung shows him the pictures he took, and Jungkook smiles. This moment, preserved, perfect. 

"I want to paint this. Can you send it to me?"

"Of course."

He will gift it to Taehyung once he's done. This moment, this is theirs. Preserved in his memory, perfect. He was wrong all this time - life is not about the grand moments, the big wins, and the bigger losses; life is rather a collection of small moments spent with the right people.

"I'll see you after dinner, hyung."

~

For a casual movie plan, Taehyung surely puts in the effort to make it the best movie viewing experience for the two of them: he gathers blankets and pillows and builds a makeshift fort; he brings popcorn, nachos, and orders chicken wings from KFC ("I really don't think we could eat this much, we just had dinner!" "Shut up, you know nothing, noob."); he also carries a projector, his soundbars, and spends fifteen minutes in choosing the best wall to project the film and another fifteen in setting up the entire thing.

Jungkook gives in exactly two minutes fifty-two seconds later and lets Taehyung do as he pleases. They have a movie room, a separate movie room for their movie-watching pleasure, but that's too lowly for Taehyung, clearly.

If he's honest, he's endeared. It's endearing the amount of thought that Taehyung has put into it.

The movie begins and it is good, and Jungkook is enjoying it, but what he enjoys more is Taehyung's weight on his left; sitting shoulder to shoulder in their fort in the dark with the only light from the movie, reflecting off Taehyung's glasses and his golden skin. Shadows and shapes.  

Taehyung catches him openly staring once or maybe twice - Jungkook is careless today, reckless to the whims of his heart - but he simply smiles and says nothing. And Jungkook is glad for the darkness, that Tae cannot fully see; he's sure the canvas of his face would betray all that he feels.

Amidst more looks, some laughs, the movie ends, and then the screen goes black. They sit in darkness, close. Jungkook feels suspended, caught in time, doesn't know what he should do with their hands which came to rest like this at some point. There's no movement, no word, just two boys, their connected hands, and their muted breathing. Just two boys, trapped within each other, no space in between. (Someone just has to lean in.)

And then, Jungkook moves away, and the air snaps, breaks. The promise of an almost - this is their dance, the choreography of which they perfected over the years, and he never has enough courage and grace to change it. Jungkook switches on the lights and avoids Taehyung's eyes. Doesn't want to confront whatever it is that Taehyung is showing.

"So, you liked the movie?" he asks, and there's a split-second when Jungkook catches the downward bow of his lips before it's changing into a serene smile. The air is still charged with that almost. But they don't acknowledge it.

"Yes, yes. I liked it. Thanks, hyung," he returns his smile, and he waits for the next move. They are dancing like they always are.

Taehyung moves where Jungkook is standing, halfway to the door, and he knows the next part well - "I should go now, it's really late. G'night, Kookie. See you tomorrow." - and he waits for it. Except, Taehyung doesn't utter a word - this wasn't a part of their choreography - and stands too close to him, gets in his personal space -

And smacks his forehead.

Jungkook staggers backward, shocked, and before he can recover or even register what happened, he pulls him closer closer closer, and the next thing he knows it is the feel of Taehyung's lips on his. 

The earth doesn't split beneath his feet, it isn't devastating, but something alters, something intrinsically changes; the air is once again thick, but this time with an almost that becomes a something.

Taehyung kisses him, harder, deeper, his tongue plows into him, and Jungkook forgets their dance, forgets to be scared for one goddamn second, and he's intoxicated, high.

He kisses back, matches him move for move.

And just like it had started, it ends. Taehyung draws back and stares at him with an openness that is almost too delicate.

"I enjoyed the movie too, yes." And Jungkook breaks into a guffaw. He laughs so hard that his body threatens to give away, and Taehyung laughs too, and it's ridiculous, absurd, but this is them, stupid and drunk off each other.

Still laughing, they head back to their fort; Taehyung puts his head on Jungkook's shoulder, and Jungkook puts his arm around his. They don't say a word - they just stay like this and exchange occasional chaste, unhurried kisses.

When Jungkook pictured this moment, he imagined adrenaline. He imagined pulling at each other's clothes, and passion, a fire in which they would burn and burn. But it was not like that. Not really. After the initial high of anticipation and its aftermath - finally, finally - it all settled down. Jungkook experiences a calm like a performance aced like this is but the logical course of his life.

 "When did you know that I - " he asks, hesitant.

Taehyung shifts from their position, faces him. Smiles. "Maybe a year? You are not exactly subtle. Your unabashed staring was just too obvious, sometimes."  

Jungkook blushes. The older chuckles and plays with his ear. Coos at his cuteness.

"Why didn't you confront me before? Why wait for so long, if you knew?" he asks again.

Taehyung's expression shifts and he looks at him, impossibly soft. "I was not completely sure. I didn't know if what you felt was more permanent or if you were just infatuated, if it was just a phase. I'd rather not rob you of a chance to actually fall for someone else instead. So, I waited. Hoped you'd come to me, tell me yourself. But when months passed and nothing changed, I got too tired of waiting. I decided I had to tell you, irrespective of whether you felt the same way or not."

He adds, "It was so difficult. Every time, I would hatch a plan to tell you how I felt, I would chicken out at the last moment, change my mind. While you would stare at me, so innocently, so unaware. The timing was always messed up."

"Except today."

"Except today. I told myself, it is happening today. I am not leaving your room without telling you, or as it happened, without showing you."

"It feels so surreal." And it does. All this time Jungkook thought it was only in his head. He was convinced that he was alone in his feelings for him, that this was a pipe dream. How could someone like Taehyung, so impossibly perfect, ever feel something for him. And in a way, it was good. There were no complications when it was only him, nothing to be scared of, nothing could ever go wrong -

"Stop. You're thinking too much."

That's the thing with intimacy, Taehyung already knows everything, every look, every thought. But, Taehyung says stop, and he does.

"What now?"

"Now..."

Taehyung walks over to the soundbar, plays a song – a vaguely familiar tune – and drags Jungkook on his feet. Wraps his arms around his neck and pulls him by his waist. As the elder mouths the lyrics to the song, the younger finally recalls where he had heard it.

Jimin’s words come back to him again, and he thinks it’s only fitting that they dance like it’s the end of the world. He was right, they’ve been dancing around each other for far too long, and it’s time that they stop.

The scene unfolds like this: there are two boys, and they are in love. One, too afraid that he won’t be enough, the other, scared because the boy in his arms feels a lot like coming home. There are two boys, and they sway and glide and hold each other, figure skaters dancing on ice except they don’t know the moves. Maybe, it’s okay to not know the choreography beforehand for once.

And then, the light fades and the music stops.

(And Jungkook is not alone.)