Work Text:
Jungkook opens his eyes and sees that everything is still the same.
He is lying down on the lumpy couch that came with his one-bedroom apartment. His laptop is open to an unfinished paper that’s not due for another week, cursor flashing mockingly where he gave up halfway through a sentence. Next to it, a mug of lukewarm coffee is abandoned amongst a sea of water rings that has accumulated for the past several years, Jungkook always forgetting to grab a coaster before he sets down a drink.
Seokjin always complains about them, has a small frown on his face whenever he looks at the rings staining the table. I gave you a set of coasters for a reason, Jungkook-ah. Use them! And Jungkook doesn’t mean to leave them most of the time in the cupboard, only remembering them when Seokjin happens to be here with an expectant look already on his face a second after Jungkook gets him a can of black tea—his favorite, the only reason why Jungkook keeps a few in the fridge. Despite his scolding, Seokjin would still plop down on the couch and put his sock-clad feet on the table when Jungkook does, sighing in defeat. I guess they look charming in a way.
And then from there, the night proceeds as usual. A foreign film playing on Jungkook’s TV, their eyes reading the text at the bottom of the screen with ease, so used to having their attention simultaneously on the scene and the subtitle. In their laps, a couple bags of chips already opened before the TV was, hands sneaking inside without them being fully aware. Their feet on the table play-fighting for a moment, then in the next their legs tangled together on the couch. An arm wrapped around Jungkook’s waist, his back against Seokjin’s chest. Sometimes, he even leans over Jungkook’s shoulder, his cheek pressing into his neck.
It’s still the same. Everything is. The proximity. The touches.
The clock strikes seven thirty; Jungkook has to squint to be sure he read it right and it seems to be around that time. It’s early into the evening yet he feels a bit sluggish, like he is not quite sure if he’s really awake or still caught up in a dream.
He feels silly, finding himself waiting again. He has been for a while now. A few hours ago, Jungkook thought Seokjin would be here by five, as he told him so a day before. Something about getting off work earlier, a treat for himself seeing as he had to work overtime a few times this week. Then, the corner of his laptop’s screen read five thirty without Jungkook noticing as he typed away words that didn’t seem to make sense when put together in a sentence, so he thought maybe Seokjin was a little late, that he would probably be here soon. In about ten minutes? Fifteen? By six o’clock, Jungkook had already melted into the couch’s cushions, the lumps here and there no match for the sudden weight in his eyelids. He imagines himself there looking tired and soft, only his head and foot peeking out of his blanket, eyes unfocused.
The clock’s minute hand moves. Jungkook blinks, willing his sleepiness away, but not parting from the couch just yet. He’s too comfortable to move. You mean you’re too lazy, Seokjin would say if he was here.
He clumsily reaches for his phone on the table. When he finds it’s not there, he feels for it on the floor, thinking it must have fallen while he slept, until finally his fingers brush something solid and smooth. In the corner of his eye, he can see his reflection in the black screen of his TV, how his phone’s screen lights up his entire face in the dimness of his apartment, the only light he left on being in the kitchen, spilling a bit into the tiny living room and barely reaching his toes at the other end of the couch. His eyes are as wide as they can be when sleep still pulls at them to close, trying their hardest not to miss anything, hoping for something to hold on to.
No new messages. He checks his recent calls just in case he missed one even though he set his phone to ring beforehand. The last call he got was this morning.
Jungkook could text him, ask where he is. Perfectly normal and reasonable to wonder where Seokjin is right now or if he’ll even come at all. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, but the hesitation Jungkook feels is. The messaging app is open, his conversation with Seokjin at the very top. See you later, the last Seokjin sent him with an emoji throwing a kiss his way, Jungkook hating the way he wishes it is the real thing. He isn’t supposed to have a hard time messaging his friend, but it is just one of the many things that he used to do so naturally, as easy as breathing, yet have now become somewhat new. It feels like learning how to ride a bicycle all those years ago, that split second of thinking he’ll fall when he starts to lean a little bit more to the right.
Jungkook sighs and sinks back into the couch. He thinks he has already fallen, even bruising from the force of it. He just wants Seokjin to be here already.
Right before he closes his eyes again, he hears a knock, his breath hitching in surprise. It all happens in a quick blur, getting up, blanket falling. Then before he knows it, he is already at his door. But he doesn’t open it. Not yet. He steadies his breathing first, makes sure he doesn’t sound like he is out of breath even though he sort of feels like he does. What was quiet now feels too loud: the in and out of his breathing, the beating of his heart, the want that stirs in his chest. He is not even sure if it’s Seokjin at the door, yet his body seems to know, or at least craves for it—a warmth that is so unmistakably Seokjin, a scent so soft and pleasant to his nose coming through the door.
A series of knocks this time. Louder and impatient. Then, “Jungkook-ah?”
He opens the door a bit too fast. Seokjin’s finally here.
The first thing Jungkook sees is Seokjin’s raised fist, about to knock for the nth time. His gaze then shifts to Seokjin’s face, at the lapels of his jacket, white and fluffy like clouds. Jungkook wants to hug him.
Seokjin arches an eyebrow, shaking the bag of takeout in his other hand. “Well? Aren’t you going to let me in?”
Jungkook sets aside his laptop to make space for the food as Seokjin settles next to him on the couch. He hadn’t noticed how hungry he was, and as he fills his stomach generously to quiet its rumbling, he listens to Seokjin rattle off complaints. A coworker of his—in Seokjin’s words—had fucked up his part on a report so he got held back a bit to help him fix it lest he gets dragged down by any more mistakes. He apologizes to Jungkook for not notifying him sooner that he’ll be late, too busy double checking the changes they’ve made before handing in the report to their department head.
“I understand that he’s been going through something,” sighs Seokjin, putting down the now empty food container. “And I’ve tried to be patient with him but it’s beginning to weigh me down too.”
“You should talk to him about it, hyung.”
“I know, I know,” he mutters tiredly, leaning back in a more relaxed position. Then, he turns his head to smile at Jungkook. “I will tomorrow, but enough about work. I’m tired of that. Were you able to get anything done while waiting for me? You have that project, right? Oh, or was it a test?”
Jungkook had turned on the lights as he let Seokjin inside. Now, he wishes he hadn’t so he wouldn’t feel so seen, so exposed like he does now with Seokjin looking at him so intently. He wants to move forward, do something, only for him to take two steps back in the end. Nothing, he wants to say. All I did was wait for you.
He laughs instead. “You’re getting old, hyung. It’s this dumb paper I have to write. It’s still not done but I’m getting there.”
His shoulder gets lightly knocked by Seokjin’s as revenge for his teasing, smiling harder when he sees Seokjin’s face scrunch in offence.
“Hey! What is it with you and my age? I’m not that much older than you.” Seokjin huffs. He may look like he’s annoyed but Jungkook knows the truth; he doesn’t mind in the slightest what Jungkook says or does. It’s easily seen in the way the corner of his lips tugs up when Jungkook giggles, his gaze growing soft, and it’s such a small thing yet Jungkook wants it. He wants Seokjin’s eyes on him long before he ever knew what that meant.
“Come on,” Seokjin urges him once his laughter dies down, grabbing the remote from the table and turning the TV on. “Go choose a movie if you haven’t.”
Jungkook takes the remote from Seokjin, typing in the title of the movie he’d chosen earlier, his legs tucked underneath him. His body knows what to do even when his thoughts are muddled with Seokjin’s smile. His movements come naturally with no need for further guidance. The way he inches closer to Seokjin, the way his hand immediately wraps around Seokjin’s arm. It’s familiar. Almost like part of a routine. And it seems that way for Seokjin too for he adjusts Jungkook’s hand into his own, pulling him into his side. Jungkook can only follow, body snuggling next to him, his head resting on Seokjin’s shoulder like it is home.
He has been thinking about this a lot, the way they get to be Jungkook and Seokjin, and Seokjin and Jungkook. A palindrome if he were to call it. Look at them either going forward or back and you would still find them being their normal and, sometimes, insufferable selves in each other’s company.
It’s the same. It should be. As one half of this dumb duo would expect of each other, what they expect being together is.
But something is there. It’s in Seokjin shifting in his seat, when Jungkook feels him rest his head against his. It’s in Jungkook’s body melting next to him, like he can’t help it. It’s in how he follows Seokjin’s breathing with his own. In then out, in then out. Their bodies moving as if they’re one. It’s subtle but Jungkook knows. He is aware, so painfully aware of everything. How his view on things so small and unimportant before can become the complete opposite in a blink of an eye; such things that now have a hold on his heart. When Seokjin hums, recognizing the movie he’s chosen, Jungkook can feel that hold strengthen. It will not let go. He doesn’t want it to.
“Didn’t we watch this before?” Seokjin murmurs against his temple as the movie begins with streets full of crowds waving and cheering, a princess smiling back at them. The corner of his lips presses into Jungkook’s temple as he does, breath warm on Jungkook’s hair.
This is as close as Jungkook gets to a kiss. Savoring it, he closes his eyes for a moment longer. He wishes he had swept his hair back so he can feel it on his skin, not letting even a strand to keep him from that accidental graze, of knowing what Seokjin’s lips feel like.
“Hm. But I want to watch it again.”
He can feel Seokjin smile, a chuckle slipping out. “No complaints here. It’s your turn to choose after all.”
His turn? Jungkook thinks. It’s almost always his turn, always what he wants, whether it be this or what food to order, and even when Seokjin chooses, it’s not much of a choice but rather a silent surrender, an undeniable truth of how much he is willing to give and how much he knows Jungkook. If he were to choose tonight, he would probably reason he is “in the mood,” as he puts it often, to watch something romantic, something sappy—all the things Jungkook wants to see, to feel with his own heart, against the pads of his fingers, or even a soft brush of his lips. It’s an excuse because the truth is Seokjin knows the soft parts of him that yearn for such things in life, the gentleness he craves despite how much his outward appearance seem to suggest otherwise: the ink on his arms, the piercings on his earlobes and eyebrow, his all-black wardrobe. It’s because Seokjin has only ever been a giver and not much of a taker.
“I’ve always thought this part is cute,” comments Seokjin now. On the TV screen, Ann wanders the streets of Rome, alone for the first time with eyes full of wonder and excitement at all the things she couldn’t afford to see up close before. “She looks so happy, it’s endearing.”
Jungkook watches as everyone seems to flock to Ann, pulled in by her shine, their smiles at the ready for her to receive. For Jungkook, he doesn’t need anyone else’s attention or gaze on him other than one person. In a way, he is the opposite of Seokjin like that. Whenever Seokjin holds out a hand for him to take, he immediately laces their fingers together as if afraid Seokjin may take it back. After Seokjin gave him a polaroid camera for his birthday last year, he has only ever been taking pictures of Seokjin or them together in one frame, indulging himself of something he has yet to have. Maybe something he’ll never have. A hey, hyung barely leaves his mouth and he will already have Seokjin’s attention with a look that he fools himself into thinking means I’ll do anything for you. And when Seokjin leaves, he does not ever want him to, clinging to him and making up excuses for him to stay even if it’s just a minute or two longer. Sometimes it comes to a point where he wishes Seokjin would just put him in his pocket and take him wherever he goes just so they won’t part, just so the distance he never knew they had would grow any more than it needs to.
Jungkook just takes and takes which makes him want more, yearn more. It seems nothing will ever be enough. Not the touches, the nicknames. Not the eyes he so selfishly wants them to see him as more than just a friend.
They’re nearing the end of the movie now, at the point where the main characters say their goodbyes, share a kiss before they part. Jungkook knows what happens next: them returning to their normal lives, both knowing that they’d never be together again. Nevertheless, it still gets to him—that familiar ache that renders him speechless, mind looping the scene where they look at one another as if to trace the outline of each other’s faces so they may imprint it on to their minds, so they may never forget the time they spent together. It’s the hopeless romantic in him that makes him think of it still long after the scene ends. He has always considered himself to be one although he has never said so out loud, too embarrassed to. In his defense, it’s so hard not to root for them, to hope for something more than what they’re given, especially knowing the what ifs.
With such a short amount of time, it wasn’t love, not quite, but it could have been and that hurts Jungkook more.
All the while, Seokjin has been comforting him through it, sensing his emotions as if they were his own. He plays with Jungkook’s hair, twirling it between his fingers as he asks, “Are you okay?” And his breath fanning over Jungkook’s fringe, warm and inviting, makes Jungkook feel at peace yet restless at the same time. Without thinking, he clutches at the sleeve of Seokjin’s shirt, fisting the fabric in his hand. Worry mars Seokjin’s face at the action.
This is what frustrates Jungkook the most. To be known had not always been such a scary thing. He never gave it much thought, to be honest, and that’s because he hadn’t been aware how much of him has been bared and laid open for Seokjin. Every part of him, mind, body, and soul—everything that makes up who Jungkook is, Seokjin knows. The only exception would be the home Seokjin has unknowingly made in Jungkook’s heart, how he came into his life and took root. He has yet to know the extent of what he does to Jungkook, how far and deep those roots reach into the core of Jungkook’s heart.
Sometimes Jungkook has the urge to let Seokjin know of his growing feelings, a smidge of confidence, maybe a bit of recklessness sparking him into doing the littlest things, things that are somewhat not that noticeable but feel as though they are blaringly obvious, ridiculous even. At least, to Jungkook they are. He feels like he’s back in high school, trying to impress his crush and make him notice him in some way. As of late, he has worn, in the few times they’ve gone out the past month, something different from his usual laidback attire, like this pair of slacks he got with the excuse of having just finished this oral presentation in class, or this flowy and loose shirt he wore that Seokjin kept fiddling its hem. Even makeup has no escape from Jungkook’s quiet attempts: a light brush of pink on his cheeks, eyelids swiped with a shade of light orange, or eyes lined daringly with black.
Now, though, they’re just watching a film at Jungkook’s apartment, nothing to get all dolled up for, yet looking up at Seokjin all Jungkook can think about is all the times he tried to look a bit different but still himself, still Seokjin’s best friend that just wants to be seen in a different light, and how Seokjin hasn’t noticed any of those moments, Jungkook acutely aware of the layer of lip balm he applied earlier, can remember how his lips shine red like a freshly bloomed rose as he looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. Thinking about it, he’s so glad that is the only thing he put on or else his face could have been a disaster after succumbing to a quick nap a while ago.
“Jungkook?” Seokjin gently tucks Jungkook’s hair behind his ear, smiling softly, almost like he’s endeared. “Silly, why would you watch it again if it will affect you this much?”
Shaking his head, Jungkook nuzzles into the crook of Seokjin’s shoulder, as if they’re not close enough as it is, and breathes out a sigh. He hears Seokjin laugh, amused but not at all mean in the slightest, and Jungkook responds by pinching his side, holding back a laugh as Seokjin reacts indignantly. Before he knows it, Seokjin has Jungkook almost seated on his lap, curled up against him and held in his arms. In retaliation, he pinches Jungkook back but he’s smiling too wide, eyes closing at the sheer greatness of his smile that he misses the way Jungkook looks up at him, starry-eyed and hopeless too, all twisting and burning inside his chest, fighting and surrendering at the same time.
If Jungkook were to grab his camera, the one he uses to take beautiful shots in the rare occasion they go somewhere new, he would place it by the corner to capture this moment: lights dim and soft on their skin, them lounging on the couch as if they have all the time in the world held in the palm of their hands, Seokjin looking down at him with such a fond smile, and then there’s Jungkook trying hard to hide the restlessness in his bones, the want he wishes Seokjin feels too that translates into fingers holding on to the front of Seokjin’s shirt. What would Seokjin think seeing themselves like this, all wrapped up in each other in the quiet of the night, as if watching a scene from a movie, like he’s just a spectator to another budding romance? If he even sees said romance at all, that is. Doesn’t he see it, the way Jungkook curls into him like he belongs nowhere else? The way Jungkook wants to shine so bright, so pretty in his eyes that he is unable to look at anyone else other than him? Won’t he root for them too?
Overcome with these thoughts, so long ago they’ve settled inside him that he somehow finds himself blurting: “Do you like it?”
Seokjin looks a bit confused. “The movie? Yeah, I do.”
“Uh— Well, no, I mean—” Jungkook stammers, equally confused too, trying to determine what he meant by his own question. “Not the movie, but— My lips?” When those words leave his mouth, only then does he realize what he was referring to. His lips, his lips that feel soft and still a bit sticky from the swipe of his lip balm. Licking them, he can taste a hint of strawberry. Dread gobbles him up like he has offered it a feast with just two words. He gulps. Shit. He didn’t mean to say that. He didn’t know what he should have said in the first place.
At first, Seokjin simply stares before his gaze drops to his lips, and Jungkook grips Seokjin’s shirt in panic, in want too. “I—I have this new lip balm,” he explains. It sounds weak even to his own ears. “So, I just…”
Then, his hand loosens its grip in surprise, his mouth parting to draw in a breath then holding it, afraid to move rather than to not be able to breathe again. Before him, Seokjin’s gaze does not waver as he brings his hand up to gently cup his cheek, thumb touching the corner of his lips.
This is something new, something entirely different. Jungkook is not sure what to make of it.
Seokjin looks up and throws his own question back at him. “Do you like it?” Jungkook manages to nod. “Then that’s all that matters.”
“I want you to like it too,” he whispers hesitantly.
“Of course, I do,” agrees Seokjin immediately in an equally hush manner. He has since returned to tracing Jungkook’s lips with his eyes, with the brush of his thumb.
Doesn’t he understand what Jungkook is trying to say? “I’ve only used it a couple of times and I—I like it so far, I guess.”
“Hm.”
“It’s… It’s strawberry flavored.”
The end of Seokjin’s lip quirk up. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Jungkook sighs just as Seokjin brushes his thumb across the mole under his bottom lip. “Um. It does a good job in keeping my lips, uh. I mean it keeps my lips moisturized.”
“Oh?”
He knows, doesn’t he? Surely Jungkook isn’t imagining the teasing lilt in Seokjin’s voice.
“Hyung.”
Seokjin raises an eyebrow. “Jungkook.”
He hoists himself up so he can look at Seokjin properly, hovering over him, their faces close. Hands firm on his waist, Seokjin does not let go of him, does not even flinch at their increasing proximity. “Hyung,” slips out of his mouth again and still he is not sure why, not sure what else to say. Behind him, the brightness of the TV screen reaches the wall in front of him, enough to see how Seokjin looks at him the way he always does, but now Jungkook asks himself the same question: if he were to see themselves right now, just like how one would watch a scene from a movie, would he see anything different? He is frustrated that Seokjin doesn’t seem to take notice of anything at all but what about himself? Underneath his palm is Seokjin’s creased shirt and below that the thump, thump, thump of his heart. Has it always been like this, just as loud and erratic as Jungkook’s?
“Jungkook? You were saying?”
“Right. Uh. What I’m trying to say is—” He draws in a breath, shivering for a moment as Seokjin noses his neck, at the light contact of lips on skin he has been wanting for so long it feels as though he imagined it. Even this moment, he thinks, must be a product of his imagination, a scene plucked from a movie.
“Hm?”
“Do you want to try it?”
“Try what?”
“The lip balm, hyung.”
“I don’t know,” muses Seokjin. “Do you really want me to?”
Gently, Jungkook tangles his fingers in Seokjin’s hair, uses it to raise his head, to return his gaze back to him. “Yeah,” he breathes, “I really do.”
Seokjin grins. “Are you sure?”
He nods.
“Are you really sure?”
Groaning, he bumps his forehead against Seokjin’s. He even pinches his shoulder for good measure. “Hyung, I swear if you’re going to kiss me just d—”
His breath stutters the moment their lips meet, Seokjin swallowing his gasp into his mouth. It’s soft and slow and sweet, gentle in the way Seokjin’s lips mold against his, his own lips growing pliant with every brush and warmth he feels. Intoxicating, Jungkook thinks, would be the word he’d use to describe this kiss. This kiss that brings him close, closer to where he wants to be. To be seen and wanted too. A shining star in Seokjin’s eyes.
And this want, this desire—is it so wrong, so naive of him to think it surges through Seokjin’s veins too? That it is found in how he wraps an arm around Jungkook’s waist, thumb and index finger tilting his chin down for a better angle. In how he doesn’t stop, from a heartachingly sweet peck to something as enticing as the wet swipe of his tongue along his bottom lip, as if to taste that sweet strawberry tinting Jungkook’s lips red.
Seokjin continues to give just like he always does and Jungkook is not one to refuse, has never been when it comes to him. And so, he takes what Seokjin gives him, whatever he can get with these greedy hands of his, these lips that want more, more, more. So much more as if he is starving even though he already has everything within reach. When he feels Seokjin lick into his mouth, Jungkook parts his lips so easily to him, sighing as he kisses him deeper the way he truly wants to. So foolish was he to have thought that he now knew what Seokjin’s kisses were like, how he tasted, because as he continues to breathe him in does the thought finally register to him, make his body and mind come alive. This is what Seokjin tastes like. This is what it feels like to be wanted by Seokjin.
Jungkook doesn’t want to let go just yet, but they need to breathe to live so with reluctance he lets Seokjin guide him away from his mouth, eyes slowly opening as if awakening from a dream. In a way, it feels like it was. Too good to be true.
“How was it, Jungkook-ah?” whispers Seokjin, a soft smile adorning his face. “Did you like it?”
“Yeah,” is all he can say, breathless, “I loved it so much. Let’s do it again?”
Seokjin bursts out laughing into his neck, shaking from the force of it that even Jungkook is pulled in, trembling too. His lips are wet when he presses them into Jungkook’s neck then up to his jaw. “As many times as you want. I’m all yours.”
“Really?”
Another laugh. “Yes. Really.”
Jungkook smiles, elated and already leaning into him, barely managing to say then what are you waiting for? before Seokjin greets his lips with a smile. It’s not much of a kiss since it’s all teeth with how wide their smiles are, but Jungkook doesn’t mind. He likes this one too. He likes all of them.
Later, Seokjin will ask him to take out the polaroid camera he gave him. When the picture starts to appear, Jungkook won’t need to pretend anymore, not with those eyes looking at him instead of the camera. Not when Seokjin has not looked at anywhere else but him ever since.